#if its zombies is it cannibalism????

[rinzay]

How exactly does Gregory get infected? It's clear he was attacked, but how?

He was hanging around a group of survivors (To steal their food) until they got in trouble with a horde. Normally this wouldn't be a problem for Gregory, but....

#rinzanswers #rinzart #my art #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #Fnaf SV au #Fnaf security virus AU #gregory fnaf #fnaf gregory #zombie apocalypse #tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: gore #I guess???? #its not much #tw: cannibalism #if its zombies is it cannibalism???? #click for better quality #chomp chomp #ashfjksafd

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'til the break of dawn - Pt2

<Pt1

(TWST zombie apocalypse au for all your crack-fic needs)

As a kind of ‘sorry for almost stabbing you, please do not sic your zombie cat on me’ gesture, Ace gripped Yuu’s hand and dragged him into the back of the convenience store so they could share a nice little meal together.

Well… it would be nice, if Yuu wasn’t approximately 99% sure that Ace was a cannibal. After all, he hadn’t had any supplies on him that would have been worth stealing, much less killing over, that was why he had come into the convenience store in the first place. And it wasn’t like the store had been openly claimed in any of the traditional ways, with a blackened zombie corpse out front or a big bar over the window and a handwritten sign telling people to stay out ‘or else’. 

And Grim had accepted Ace’s mystery meat. Yuu had lived with the zombie for quite a while, now, so he knew for a fact that Grim was very particular about his diet. Much to his chagrin, might he add. It was a little gross to watch his cat feast on the corpses of what had once been humans. He only spared so much of his innocence by turning his face away whenever the zombie needed to eat.

All of this to say: Yuu did not like the look of the bowlful of mystery meat he was offered. Especially since it wasn’t really all that much of a mystery.

He took it gingerly, but was reluctant to actually eat any. He tossed some to Grim when Ace turned away to prepare himself a bowl, and winced when Grim snapped it up without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Well, that confirms that theory.

Ace settled down a few feet away and started digging in. Without even cringing. Maybe it was good?

Yuu poked at the meat with his chopsticks, frowning a little. When cooked it, frankly, didn’t look that different from any other meat. Though it looked bland. Did Ace not know what spices are? Yuu was pretty sure he had seen a few spice jars scattered around the shop, couldn’t he have spared at least a couple?

Beyond that, though, he was… less than eager to learn if everything really does just taste like chicken.

Would it be rude to refuse, though? Ace had cooked it for him…

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, uh, why didn’t you just… eat the food that was here?”

Ace didn’t seem to know what he was talking about, so Yuu motioned to the aisles upon aisles of food that he was using as bait.

Ace seemed to buffer for an entire minute.

“Well… it’s not sustainable. I mean, we’re going to be stuck like this until… who knows how long. I don’t know how to tend to plants or – anything.”

Yuu gave him a flat look. “Y’know, I’d believe that if it wasn’t very clear that you’re making this up on the spot.”

Ace scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, what do you know? You befriended a fucking zombie.”

“It was really dark, okay?!”

Grim glowered at Ace. And then snapped at his knee.

“Get your fucking cat!” Ace screeched.

Yuu sighed. “Grim, just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean you can kill them. We’ve been over this.”

Grim, for lack of a better word, sulked at the reminder.

Ace, however, looked horrified. “... how many times has Grim killed someone you made ‘friends’ with?”

“I try not to think about it,” Yuu admitted.

Ace looked like he wanted to die… well, actually, like he very much did not want to die. “Well, you – you scold him afterward, right?”

“Of course!”

“You’d scold him if he killed me, then?” Ace sounded a little bit desperate. He looked at the zombie. “You hear that? You’ll get told off if you kill me!”

Grim looked like he was very much ready to take that risk.

“You – you have to start doing more,” said Ace. “Like, at least say you won’t talk to him anymore if he kills me.”

Yuu frowned. That seemed a little bit extreme. Grim was his special little guy. He couldn’t just stop talking to him.

Ace would claim until the end of time that he did not whimper. That the sound he made was actually very cool and manly. Ace is a liar.

Yuu, however, is not. Which is why he never agreed to abandon his beloved cat.

His beloved cat was, technically, a murderer, but we all have our flaws. Yuu didn’t care that much. Though… he seemed to be an exception – people always stressed when Grim’s kill count was brought up, it was so annoying. And hypocritical, in Ace’s case, seeing as he was a serial killer/cannibal.

Yuu didn’t need to deal with this.

“I’m going to grab some spices,” he decided, pushing himself to his feet. “If I’m going to be eating this, it needs to actually taste good.”

Ace yelped and jumped up as well, almost running to latch onto Yuu’s arm, squinting at Grim with open suspicion. “Here, I know where they are, let me take you there!”

Grim narrowed his eye right back at him. But, upon receiving a warning look from Yuu, settled down on his front paws and glared at nothing.

So, with little additional fanfare, Yuu and Ace grabbed a few spices from the shelves, and Yuu worked at making a spice combination that would go with something he had never tried before and didn’t even really want to eat now.

He managed to make something that tasted… fine. On its own, at least. He had no clue how well it would work with human flesh.

So, Ace was to be his test subject.

(Should he trust Ace as a test subject? He was already eating people, his taste buds might not have been all that normal… whatever. Yuu was having a day. He was officially tired of parsing out things like logic and morality.)

He spiced up the meat and then gave it to Ace to try.

Ace glanced at him, slightly wary. But he had watched Yuu grab all of the spices, so it wasn’t like he could have poisoned it. The worst it could be was gross. He took a careful bite.

He almost dropped his bowl.

He looked at Yuu with stars in his eyes.

“Never leave me,” Ace said.

Yuu’s eyebrows raised just slightly. “Not scared of Grim anymore?”

“It’s worth it. I can’t cook for shit. I’ve been dying here.”

Yuu snickered into his hand.

Grim narrowed his eye at Ace. Ace – who was definitely a little more concerned about the zombie cat than he had originally tried to claim – hesitated, before scooping a little bit of the meat out onto the floor for him.

The zombie sniffed the peace offering for a moment before eating it.

Grim was enlightened.

Yuu realized, dully, that this was probably the first time the zombie had ever had seasoned food. He felt… strangely guilty about this.

He rubbed the zombie’s head, scratching behind his cat’s ear in just the way he liked it. Grim purred and, apparently, decided that Ace could live for another day, so long as Yuu continued to love on him for the rest of the night.

“I guess the food was a hit,” Yuu joked lightly.

“It’s really good,” Ace said, nudging the bowl towards him to try.

He picked it up gingerly and blew on the… ‘food’.

… in the end, Yuu only managed a few bites before he had to stop. It tasted fine, but he couldn’t get over what it actually was. He resolved himself to make a run to the store sometime within the next week or two for something he could eat without feeling physically ill – or mentally ill, for that matter.

(He wanted to use what they already had in the store, but Ace insisted that his bait was not to be disturbed. Remind him why he had chosen to be friends with Ace, again?)

~

Yuu stubbed his toe on a can of beans of all things. Ace had taken to trying to drive him away with petty inconveniences, since anything too openly hostile would end in him getting killed. It was kind of funny, when it wasn't happening to you.

He punched a shelf out of frustration.

Great. Now his hand, hurt, too.

"Sh-ugar," Yuu hissed.

Ace snorted. "You can swear, man, it's the apocalypse. I do it all the time. Watch: fuckshitbitchdamnhellIcan'tthinkofanymoreshitshitshit! See? No one to get onto my case about it."

Yuu scowled. "Nope. I'm perfect and virtuous and -."

"Your best friend is a zombie."

He threw up his hands in frustration. "You befriend one zombie and suddenly all of the good things you've ever done are null and void!"

Ace raised an eyebrow.

Yuu scowled. How was he supposed to have known that helping out a random stray would end the world as he knew it? Grim was the very first zombie, it would have been weirder to assume that there was something wrong, in his opinion!

"I'm never doing anything nice ever again," Yuu decided.

"You've done nice things before?"

"Shut up and go cut up that body at the front of the store so I can start making dinner."

"Very nice of you," Ace teased.

"It is," Yuu said flatly. "I don't have to feed you, you know."

Ace, to his surprise, didn't back off. Instead, he grinned widely. He clapped Yuu on the shoulder. "You're already getting the hang of it! I'll corrupt you in no time."

Yuu fought the urge to curse, if only because he didn't want to further prove Ace's point.

After all, he hated Ace and didn't find him at all funny. Ignore the little smile that threatened to tug at his lips the moment Ace was safely out of sight. Yuu was certainly ignoring it.

~

Yuu squinted at the veritable forest that had grown in the garden section of the old, abandoned grocery store.

Man, things go to the dogs fast in the apocalypse.

Or should he say they went to the cats? Since it was a cat that had started this all?

He looked down at Grim. The zombie had been clinging to his side even more than usual. Yuu wasn’t sure if it was because the almost-murder had spooked the cat, or if him becoming kinda-friends with his almost-murderer had made the cat decide that Yuu absolutely could not at any cost be left alone ever again, or if Grim was jealous that he no longer had Yuu’s undivided attention anymore, or if the zombie just really liked the texture of Yuu’s new baggy sweatpants and would take any opportunity to rub up against them. Really, all of those options were equally likely.

And, though Yuu was definitely the one with all the power in this scenario, he wanted his darling subordinate’s opinion:

“Do you approve of this?” he said, smiling wryly as he motioned to the mess of plants.

Grim squinted suspiciously at the plants, as if he was half-convinced there would be another Ace hidden in the shadows.

He didn’t seem to see anything, for he didn’t start growling or puffing up like he did when he was trying to be menacing, so Yuu took a cautious step forward.

Grim sunk his teeth into the fabric of his pant leg.

Yuu’s life flashed before his eyes. The zombie’s teeth didn’t touch his skin, but they could have if he had moved even the slightest bit unpredictably, and he did not appreciate that he had almost been killed.

He looked down at his cat, disapproving.

Grim didn’t look cowed (or… cated?), instead tugging on Yuu’s pant leg, trying to physically drag him away from the forest.

Yuu sighed.

He supposed that it was unlikely that he’d find any useful plants in the brush, anyway.

“Alright, plan B, then,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.

He grabbed the nearest plant pot filled with soil, and then walked right back into the store proper.

~

Yuu stepped into the convenience store, still frowning just slightly over his gross bag full of rotting fruits. It was wrapped in as many bags as he could physically tie around it, plus some, but it was still a miserable thing to carry.

You would think he’d get used to the smell of rot and death, but no. It’s a surprisingly varied smell. Just when you think you’ve smelled it all, another, worse smell will make itself known.

He hates his life. And his bag, right now. Ugh, he would never get the smell out of these clothes.

At least these seeds would, probably, sprout into something useful once he planted them. He wasn’t sure, since the plants themselves were rotted and therefore there was a very real chance that the seeds would be useless. He, frankly, did not have much knowledge about gardening, because he was a normal teen boy… but he could figure it out! He grabbed a couple of books on the subject, he’d be an expert in no time. By sheer force of will. He was determined to eat as few human beings as was physically possible.

Speaking of.

His cannibal friend.

He would… prefer not to catch the boy by surprise. For hopefully obvious reasons.

“Aaaaaace. I got that bell and string you wanted,” Yuu called, ringing the bell once for emphasis, before making his way further inside.

He could hear a flurry of movement, but he wasn’t entirely sure where it was coming from. Maybe Ace had been asleep and was scrambling to get himself back into order before Yuu could see his bedhead…?

Ace cursed, loudly. This did not necessarily disprove that thought, but Yuu did end up remembering that Ace’s hair always looked like a bedhead, and there was no reason for him to suddenly care about it.

So… the sound was probably…

Yuu looked down at Grim, betrayed. “Did you send a zombie after my friend?!” he hissed.

Grim looked like he had only just now realized that that was an option. Which meant that it wasn’t a zombie that Ace was fighting. But then… what?

“Ace?” he called, standing on tiptoes to try and see over the shelves, trying to figure out where the scuffle was coming from. “You good?”

There was a loud banging sound from somewhere in the back of the store, and a shelf wobbled uncertainly.

Well, that answers that question.

He rushed towards the back of the store, and… well, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it really wasn’t to find Ace sitting on top of the freezer, looking for all the world as if he was entirely innocent… with a backpack and bat that Yuu had never seen before at his feet, and what looked to be a bruise forming on his cheek.

“Oh, hey. Yuu. You’re back. Thanks for the. Bell,” the boy said, entirely natural in his cadence and definitely not doing that thing you do when you’re entirely out of breath and trying to keep quiet about it because someone is passing you and you don’t want this random stranger to know how inactive you are.

Yuu raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re… welcome?”

There was a banging sound from inside of the freezer Ace was sitting on. Ace tried very hard not to react, but his fingers curled tighter around his knife anyway.

“There’s a person in there, isn’t there?” Yuu said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Noooooo,” said Ace, batting his eyelashes.

The not-person-inside-of-the-freezer screamed something that sounded distinctly like the word ‘yes’. This did not convince Yuu of Ace’s innocence.

Even Grim seemed to give Ace a look that screamed ‘who do you think you are fooling?’

“So, if there’s no person in there, then you’ll have no problem opening it, right?”

Ace’s smile strained at the edges. “... c’mon, man, don’t do this to me.”

Yuu looked at the freezer, mentally debating whether it was worth it to even get involved. Frankly, it was the apocalypse, and everyone that was still alive kind of sucked, and there was a nonzero chance that the person would not take being shoved into a freezer lightly and would try and kill them immediately upon being let out.

He sighed.

“How old did they look?” Yuu asked.

Ace hesitated just a hair longer than would typically be to Yuu’s liking.

He groaned. “Open it.”

Ace looked like he would very much prefer not doing that. But, when Yuu prodded him with his foot, he reluctantly stood and, holding his knife out in preparation for a possible attack, allowed him to unlock the freezer.

Another person, maybe about their age, emerged from the freezer like a vampire might emerge from a coffin, grim expression and all. This effect was ruined by the fact that his hair was… blue? Maybe he was a blond who had dyed his hair black with shitty dye and it had washed out weirdly without touch-ups. Or maybe he was just really into blue hair and was working to maintain it even throughout the apocalypse. Who knows?

The boy groaned and stepped out of the freezer, scowling at Ace. “Thank you,” he grumbled, immediately picking up his bat again. He stepped between Yuu and Ace, raising his weapon. He pointed it at the redhead, which is, really, not what you’re supposed to do with a bat. “You should run, he’s dangerous.”

Ace looked somewhere between flattered and offended. “Hey! That’s my –...” Ace trailed off, unsure. Yuu wondered, absently, what he would say. Would he call him a friend? Partner? Fellow survivor, even? “Chef!” Ouch. “He’s not leaving here, he’s mine!”

Grim growled.

“And Grim’s!” he added hastily.

The blue-haired boy, though, paused. He looked for the origin of the sound. Yuu nudged Grim into a shadowed area so he looked more like a normal cat. Because the boy seemed well-intentioned, and therefore was very likely to be against Yuu having a zombie for a pet.

What does that say about Yuu’s relationship with Grim? Well, he’d rather not think about it!

Yuu sighed, stepping around him carefully, holding his hands up placatingly. “I appreciate it, but it’s fine.”

The boy looked incredulous. “He’s killing and eating people?! He doesn’t even act like he likes you?! You’re his chef?!”

“Listen, man, it’s the apocalypse, I don’t have that many options.”

“Dude…” He offered Yuu a hand. “I’ll be your friend. I’m Deuce Spade. What’s your name?”

Ew, pity. He didn’t want a pity friend. He could take Ace talking to him out of fear of Grim or respect for his cooking prowess, but pity? No thanks.

Ace snatched up the outstretched hand before Yuu could even try to shake it (not that he currently wanted to), squeezing with way more force than was entirely necessary. “Ace Trappola. Nice to meet you.”

Deuce looked disgusted. And then mildly terrified when Ace made as if to slice off his hand.

Yuu was quick to grab Ace by the arm to stop him from murdering someone for the high crime of daring to suggest that he was not the safest person to be around. How could he not see that this was proving Deuce’s point?! You’d think he’d refrain from killing for the sake of being petty, at least, but no!

Deuce’s eyes looked strangely misty. Not even because of the almost-dying thing, that was pretty much par for the course when running into other survivors, he looked so upset about Yuu’s situation. Yuu wondered what kind of soap-opera-esque backstory the boy was dreaming up for him.

He didn’t get to ask, because Deuce quickly derailed the conversation before he could: “I guess I’ll have to stay here until you’re ready to leave.”

Ace spluttered. “No?! We let you live, you’re supposed to go, now?!”

Deuce scoffed. “Why do you get to make that decision?”

“This is my base?!”

Deuce, apparently, was not going to be swayed by Ace’s facts and logic.

Ace gave Yuu a pleading look. “Yuu, can we please kill him now?”

Yuu thought about it. And then shook his head, a tiny grin threatening to steal across his lips. “Nah, letting him stay is way funnier.”

From the look on everyone else’s faces, they vehemently disagreed.

But this isn’t about them! So, Deuce got to stay. Much to the chagrin of everyone. Including himself!

~~~~~~~

Pt3>

#ace trappola #deuce spade #grim twst #twisted wonderland #yuu twst #deuce: i should do this guy a solid and help him escape from his weird cannibal friend #yuu: no its fine actually idc #deuce. severely misunderstanding the situation. tearing up: i see i must save him from HIMSELF #he... tries #twst #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fic #zombie apocalypse au

[verycharismaticdragon]

Inside you there are two WIPs...

One is soft tomfoolery with Bingqiu who are at least halfway to mental stability and healthy communication...

The other is, Luo Binghe brought Shen Qingqiu back from the dead as a flesh-eating zombie, but not to worry, shizun, he has a solution! The solution is to eat Luo Binghe. It's a sustainable source, shizun!🖤 And if that ties Shen Qingqiu to his side, well - isnt that a nice bonus?.....

#bingqiu #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #svsss #charismaticdragonwrites #cw cannibalism #they can be sooooooooo weird and codependent and weirdly codependent in the second one you guys its great!!! #zombie sqq fic

[royalreef]

(( Merfolk do not see humans as prey, potential or otherwise.

First of all, humans don't look anything at all like how their typical food species do. They're strangely skinny and scrawny, oddly shaped, and clearly not at all intended to be something made to live in the water. Merfolk do have fairly bad vision, so there is the possibility that there could be a shark situation of mistaken identity, but they also don't hunt like sharks, being as they're people who take a lot of caution to ensure that they are hunting something properly and that they will minimize any potential harm to themselves and pain to the animal.

Likewise, if they notice something being off, their first urge would be to investigate first. Merfolk, also like sharks, also tend to investigate things using their mouth first, but, again, they're smart enough to wait a moment before putting something in their mouth. They'd approach first, and even if they do not realize that the human is not a normal animal and in fact a person, this would probably still not result in a bite if the human began to freak out at being approached by a merfolk. This is the most likely case, especially since only very few people now know merfolk exist, but also because merfolk are indeed very large and very dangerous marine predators. Most people would panic at one suddenly getting close, particularly since they wouldn't have been taught any languages said merfolk might be speaking.

Honestly, more than any other comparison for interacting with a different species, merfolk would just view humans as... people? To a merfolk, speech and conversation matter a lot on what is a person versus what isn't, and since merfolk have no other analogs to what kind of animal a human might be, they'd just liken humans to "very weirdly shaped merfolk".

Of course, this is avoiding the political slant, and the fact that another major part of what defines a "person" to a merfolk is their social relationship and structures — but this is what the general gut reaction would be, and it serves a nice comparison against the human gut reaction of merfolk being very large, very dangerous predators similar to lions or crocodiles.

( And lastly... Humans just taste nasty to merfolk. Merfolk tend to have a lot of bone in their diet, but even for them, humans have far too much bone and the meat itself is bitter and foul-tasting. Miranda does enjoy the taste of human blood specifically, and heavily decomposed human bodies do taste much more delicious to them, but these are exceptions, not the rule. )

#Most secret royal advisor || OOC #Given by Divine Right || Headcanons #cannibalism m #(( theres a reason brian gets singled out #(( and its because yeah zombies and what meat is on them IS tasty #(( but human meat alone is. just Disgostang. #(( and really there are better options anyway #(( anyhow. very fun to me. #(( fun to think merfolk look at humans and go ''...... weird merfolk???'' #(( while humans look at merfolk and have the panic attack of a single entity looking like BOTH of their major evolutionary predators

[theshadow-inthelight]

Apperently it's become news recently that deer are having a terrifying outbreak of a "zombie disease"

And I am here to say that it's just chronic wasting disease!! Chronic wasting disease is a condition in deer (most commonly anyways!) And it causes them to quickly deteriorate physically and mentally.it does NOT spread to humans!

It spreads in deer and similar animals through bodily fluid and environment contamination!

We do have something similar, although it's much more uncommon.You see, chronic wasting disease is a prions disease, and technically those can occur in people (such as kuru)! However it pretty much only happens when you eat uncooked human meat. So Good news! The majority of the population is safe.

Cook your corpses! Be careful with deer! Stay safe!

(obviously joking do NOT eat people. Humans are not good for you. We also generally are just not good sources of vitamins. Like you won't benefit from eating a person.)

#hearing people be like oooh zombi apocalypse is annoying me. its been around for AGES. #chronic wasting disease #deer #news #recent events #tw cannibalism mention

[ghoul-haunted]

started off attempting to outline a mystery type story for a warm up, only I added in One Historical War Crime, and I have dropped the regular reality setting and I have begun adding in. Horrible Ghosts.

#i do historical cannibalism and i want to add in zombies #its because what i actually want to do is rewatch the guest and kingdom respectively

[howaboutalittlehelpneos]

So I'm gonna be upfront with you I've spent like ten minutes trying to cook up an art request that would be like...fun to do? And the only thing coming to mind is to draw arc-v characters trying to brave their way through a like...a zombie apocalypse? Or maybe as zombies themselves? Idk man that's all I've got.

The first one would be a lot for me... I am a baby artist :c but here is my attempt at a zombie!

Yuri eating his fellow student

#this is soooo so messy and its because im limiting myself to traditional for these asks where its also the first time im drawing #any of these people #dont worry there will at least be a digital remake coming but for now the drawing is finished because i say it is #ygo arc v #yuri #my art #zombie #cannibalism #ask #lonely-yellow-sock #request... completed

[satanfemme]

🌸 Ask Game 🌸

actually let me give you guys song recommendations too!!!!

send me your name (or any name/word, idm) and for each letter I'll give you a song off my Halloween Playlist (<- NOTE THE PLAYLIST NAME. note that I'm an EDGY GOTH. because you WILL get weird cannibalism and necro music. ur welcome.)

#don/t reblog since this game is specific to my playlist thx #post formatted like this for attention #btw sorry for liking cannibalism and necro music.... as if its my fault 🙄 #its a 12 hr long playlist so I just shuffle it during work all day every day and it fucks every time #and some of these bands/songs are UNDERAPPRECIATED!!!!!! #for example 'zombie' by 'we are band nerds'!! idk if I'll be able to rec that one for the game cause its about sui which is upsetting ofc - #but its maybe the best sui song in the world SORRY. like lol maybe I WILL shoot the zombie in the head. since u said it like that ^_^ #(<- JOKE JOKE JOKEEEEEEE. Im k*lling my [redacted]s before I ever kms. <- also a jokeee this is why I moved out ^_^) #Im NORMAL and listen to normal music yippeeeeeee!!!!!!!

[clevercorvidae]

I want to eat a brain so bad. They keep showing pictures of the brain in my class and I want to eat them SO BAD. Brains look so tasty. So edible. I bet it would taste so good in pasta.

what.

#asks #cannibalism tw #what. #a zombie? #in my inbox? #its more likely than you think

[cryptidroots]

Saw a post recently about how zombies and mummies are similar, just having different cultural backgrounds;

And then I remembered that very real bit of our history where the victorians would have dining parties to eat mummies (yes, look it up);

And now I'm wondering if the victorians had access to zombies, would they eat them too? Would there be food debates over which tasted better? Would the more common classes eat zombies, and mummies would be eaten only by the highest classes in society? Would there be underhanded markets where sellers would try to pass off really old zombie corpses as mummies?

I need some crazy steampunk author to write about the victorians eating zombies, please, I need answers.

Feel free to add your own alternate universe with zombies in the victorian-era specific questions, they'll make my day.

#if you know a story about this please mention it #zombies #mummies #victorians #victorians eating mummies #should i tag this as cannibalism? #cannibalism #cannibals #steampunk #i tagged it as cannibalism just in case #its 3 am #these are totally normal thoughts #and totally normal questions to have #victorian era hannibal lecter would fit right in

[imblocking-you]

Watching warm bodies. He's just like me fr lmao

#im a minute in and im realising this is probably an hour long metaphor of us as a society the nature of communication and probably how work #life turns us into corpses idl #idk* #the transitions are fun #its cool that this isnt a horror approach ive been looking for romcoms like these #its really giving 2012-2017 movie era love it #this is kinda sad living in your body full consciousness no memory no form to connect to another just as sentient being knowing yohr demise #kinda scary too as a living person half of humanity reduced to this state but they can still somewhat think they can open doors feel+ #emotion but they have a thirst for your flesh and lose all rationality once in vicinity of you #damn #all the trinkets in the plane :((( #simultaneously funny and sad grunting scene #one question: where are the scientists #8 years man the system mustve been real faulty no way they havent captured at least one zombie #found out they can think and did their magic #like?? resources aren't forever ur city is deteriorating day by day #also i just imagined his gf or his parents slowly losing hope for his return or even his slim chances of being out there surviving #i am reminded of the quote i wrote about cannibalism #the distinctions are kinda messy if they eat humans then it implies they mustve been eaten too #but why not completely they dont look battered #is there a process? have they only been bitten #does a zombie only need to bite a few bites to be satiated? do they feed on one and completely tire of it after? they don't come back to it #for a second bite? #curious #she was so hot in her first scene #ahhh the brain part explains it #AH THIS PART MAKES ME SENTI #someone play scott street #ive come full circle with my cannibalism quote fr #this can turn to angst realll quick so much potential

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fifteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.7k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.

Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water's surface, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 

"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.

Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.

You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. Everything is starting to turn into Blue's favorite color. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 

There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. It's a shame they taste so good because the petals are a beautiful fuschia. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.

The moment you returned yesterday, she had asked how training with Ghost went. That was quick, she'd observed. Weasling past the rules of your friendship, you gave her a half-lie: He went easy on me this first time. She didn't seem fully convinced that Ghost and 'going easy' belonged in the same sentence together.

"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"

Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” She looks at your near-empty hand. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."

"There are. I just suck at catching them."

She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh— Ghost was looking for you, by the way."

It takes you a moment to respond. "He was?"

"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."

The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to think about arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 

He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 

"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.

Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He speaks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."

"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"

He nods. "Only found one. Could be others so we'll keep an eye out."

"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 

Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"

"Right," you grimace. "Blood and rot. Their favorites."

Setting down the catch and spear, you help Ghost gather some wood from the modest pyramid stacked beside the cabin. He nudges the Grey with a booted foot, making it tumble limply into the trench. Starting the fire in there should keep the flames contained.

As you silently place the wood and some kindling over the carcass, your mind is in two places at once. With Ghost right next to you, it's impossible to not think about yesterday; how it felt to be grabbed by him, how he questioned you again about the ammo trip, and how you can't help but detest the thought of him looking at you in pity like he once he did. 

You also think about how much you fucking hate Greys. Christ, they are disgusting. Your fingers accidentally brush against the paper-thin skin that hangs off the bones and a shudder travels up your spine.

Ghost starts the fire with a match and the two of you watch the flames catch, quietly at first— then, they roar through the corpse, quickly turning it black. Bitter smoke intermingles with the crisp spring air and the smell has you coughing into your arm.

Blue has taken it upon herself to avoid the fire, making an audible gagging sound before scooping up Grim. In her absence, you shift from foot to foot, stealing a glance at Ghost. He watches the ash build up and the flames tamper down in mild interest. 

Your fingers curl up into balls, fisting the excess fabric. "Are you worried about more?" you ask him.

It's the first thing you've said to him - actually said to him - since cutting your training short. He loosens a breath and slightly shrugs his broad shoulders. "No. I told you. We never see more than a few at a time." You weren't worried, but if you were, his dismissal of the subject would reassure you. "You should be careful until I finish your bow, though. Unless you're good at throwing knives."

"I'm not," you almost snort, voice no louder than it needs to be. "But Blue is quite good at it. She's been killing squirrels for me."

He hums his response, a low sound that gets lost in the crackle of embers, and you wonder if that's him showing a lack of interest in this kind of conversation with you. With a deep inhale, you change the subject to one you can't ignore.

"Ghost— I want to apologize," you turn to face him, straightening your shoulders. "I wasted your time yesterday. It won't happen again. If we could... give it another try, I would like that."

The smoke is starting to fade. Ghost breaks his gaze from it to study you. You try not to shrink away, wondering what he's thinking. If he feels pity, it's impossible to detect in the dark irises set behind his mask, though, you've never been able to find much of anything in them. 

"You didn't waste my time, Twix. I have an interest in your capabilities." 

"What?" 

"If you're going to be staying here," he elaborates, "—then your strength is of value to me. I'd like to know that if I ask you to do something, you can do it. That if shit happens again, I can rely on you."

"You can," you breathe out. "I am... capable."

"You are," he agrees, looking away. "You're good with a bow. You think quick. But you're still weak, and you doubt yourself." The blunt comments make your brows lower, but you can't help but feel satisfied with the glimpses of approval. "Yesterday was my fault. You weren't ready for it and I should've known that."

"I am ready," you protest, lips parting as you shake your head. "Let me try again. I don't want to be coddled."

"I'm not going to coddle you," he replies in a firm drawl. "I want you stronger first. Let's start there."

“Okay.”

A hand.

There's a hand on your shoulder, heavy and firm, offering a slight shake. With a gasp, your eyes fly open to darkness, only the white of a skull visible above you, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. 

"What the hell?" are the first words you sputter, voice harsh and raw from sleep. You grip your throat to clear it. 

He scans your face. "Get up. Come on."

"What? What... what fucking time is it?"

"Almost dawn. Let's go."

It takes a few deep breaths to calm the rush of adrenaline ignited by his abrupt wake-up call. Go where? you think to ask, but instead, you slick a hand through your hair, warily rubbing your eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

Somehow you end up outside, wading through the sprawled-out fog as you follow behind his silhouette, the morning so early and quiet that it would've felt like a dream if not for your crunching footsteps. You braid your into a single, tight braid along the way. With such shitty sleep, you're too out of it to even scowl at his backside, wondering how getting up at this hour will in any way make you stronger. 

The answer is in the two axes he carries and the towering oak tree he stops in front of, your eyes climbing up the height of it before landing back down on Ghost. Your hands are forced out of your coat pockets when an axe is offered to you, fingers curling around the handle and abs tightening from the surprising weight of it.

Confusion rolls around in your gut. Slowly, you ask, "Um. You... want me to cut this thing down?"

"We need more wood after yesterday." He inclines his head and gives a tap of his own axe to the thick trunk. "Good size for you to start with."

"It's huge," you mutter under your breath. "Why do we have to do this so early?"

If there's any reasoning to it at all, he doesn't bother sharing. Rather, he stalks over to another tree about ten meters away. The calm air is soon shattered by the rough sound of metal biting wood as he starts effortlessly cutting the trunk. A large part of you considers dropping the axe and leaving without a word, but you ignore it.

"Alright then," you whisper to yourself. 

It's not the first time you've chopped down a tree. You used to help Paul with it, and truthfully, you're surprised Ghost has never asked you to do chores like this sooner. It's certainly bigger than the skinny, young trees you used to go for, evident in how little of a dent you make with the first swing.

Either you're as weak as Ghost claims, or this axe of his is heavier than the one Paul had because your biceps feel strained by the third hit.

"Have you never done this before?"

The voice at your back nearly makes you drop the axe. Whirling around, you face the colossal presence of him and wonder how you didn't notice it sooner.

"I have." You rest the thick blade on the ground, grumbling. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up on people?"

"Be more aware of your surroundings." His tone teeters towards admonishing, and he looks you over before ticking up a brow. "And fix your stance before you throw your bloody back out."

He nudges the toe of his boot against yours, forcing you to spread your feet further apart. Your lips roll together as he grunts in approval. "Try again now."

When he takes a step back, you face the tree again, bending your elbows before extending them sharply. The blade cuts deeper this time, if only by a little.

"You're focusing too much on your arms," he remarks behind your shoulder. 

Your eyebrow twitches. "I'm... I'm holding the axe with my arms. Why would I not focus on them?"

"When you're shooting arrows, what muscles do you use the most?"

Thinking back to those lessons from Paul, you answer almost immediately. "My back." It's always the part that gets most sore. "And my... my shoulders, I guess."

"Focus more on those."

His advice helps. The next swing deals considerable damage to the bark. You turn to see his response, but he's already gone back to his tree.

The next few days involve so much chopping and sawing that you think you might be starting to hate wood and all of its forms. After the trees are down, you have to cut them into sizeable logs. The back-and-forth motion leaves your arm numb. You quickly realize why Ghost is making you get up early for this work— once the sun is out, it becomes miserable, cold sweat cascading down your back and temples. 

Blue decides this is not the kind of training she's interested in watching. You don't see much of her except during dinner where she offers to cook the squirrels she's caught for you. You don't object. You pick the meat apart down to the needly bones, wiggle your sore toes of their confinements, and knock out earlier than either of them. Fatigue goes back to claiming you swift and heavy, like a current that pulls you down, down, down. The dreams sit behind a dark wall, blocked for now. 

It goes on like this for a whole week, and somewhere along the way, you stop hating it. The grunts that leave your mouth are laced with exertion and focus. Your arms don't hurt as much. You split the logs apart as your mind fills with thoughts of everything you hate. Greys. Death. Pity. You imagine breaking all those things into a hundred, rotten pieces. It feels... good.

One morning, you awaken to sunlight already bleeding through the plywood, and confusion sits you up. You look around, wondering why Ghost didn't get you up sooner, only to find Blue lying belly-down on the raggedy rug, flipping through one of her new magazines.

"Where's Ghost?" 

"Good morning to you, too," she sings. Her chin inclines from where it rests in her palm. "I decided you need a different kind of training today. He's setting it up."

"You... you decided that, huh?"

She hums. "I made you breakfast. Go eat." She waves her hand. "I'm sure he'll be done soon."

You have no idea what she's talking about, but your stomach guides you to the cooked meat calling your name. She points out things in the magazine, like old celebrities and ridiculous perfume ads, cute boys and yummy sweets she wishes she could try; you nod along as you eat.

When he returns, she perks up. Practically tugs on your arm. You have to remind her that you're still barefoot. She impatiently groans the entire time you are lacing up your boots, taking your sweet time on purpose. 

The pond is where she leads you. That place where you first saw her.

Except today, there is a thin log stretched across one end to the other. A bridge.

"We have got to work on your balance, my student," Blue announces, hands on her hips. A gentle, warm breeze tousles her hair and she swipes it from her face. "We can't have a repeat of you-know-what."

Your brows shoot up and a chuff of breath leaves your nose. "Are you trying to say I have no sense of balance?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Come on, now."

You almost forgot Ghost followed the two of you out here until he sits on a tree stump with his carving knife and the bow he's making. He's been working on it for a few hours every day. Today, when you steal a glance as Blue clasps your hand and leads you to the homemade bridge, it almost looks like a bow, finally taking on a curved shape. You can't see much of it, though, because soon you are being instructed to cross the log.

"Without falling," Blue adds. 

"Easy," you tease, shrugging. 

"Prove it."

The log is about the width of the metal beam, but much shorter. You cross over it, arms outstretched at your sides and boots hovering a few feet above glistening water that is teeming with fish. When you step down on the other side, you shoot Blue a grin.

She rubs her chin. "Not bad, not bad. Again."

You do it again with ease, even though your muscles are still stiff from your morning workouts. 

"Okay, this time, we're going to make it more realistic." 

By realistic, she means baring her teeth in a growl and sticking her arms out like a Grey. All of a sudden, you are being chased across the log, Blue running behind you. Explicatives leave your lips until your boot misses a step and you fall into the water. This time, the shallow pond offers a comfortable temperature that doesn't send your body into panic mode. You break the surface, able to stand up on the rocky bottom, and throw your wet hair out of your face as laughter bubbles up your throat on its own accord.

You look up at Blue, playfully glaring. She smirks.

"Come here, Grey," you say.

You grab her by the ankle and pull her down into the water with you. She gasps and giggles, thrashing around in her soaked clothes as you splash water in her face. 

"Or," you taunt, "Should I say Amelia?"

Her eyes widen. "How did you—" 

Then, she's leaping at you, pushing your head under the water. "Don't ever call me that."

"Or what?" You tease and swim away, scaly fish brushing against your ankles as the wide legs of your jeans ride up. "You'll kill me?"

"Might have to!"

You're not sure how long the two of you swim in there. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Until your fingertips are pruney like how they used to get when you used to swim in the pool with your sister.

You hoist yourself out of the pond and sit by the water's edge, drenched shirt clinging to your breasts uncomfortably, but you don't care. You've felt far more uncomfortable things. The buttery sunlight kisses your exposed cheeks as you wring out your hair, Blue sitting beside you to do the same thing.

She peels off her wet jeans, probably uncomfortable in them. You would do the same if you were eleven and didn't care. On her thigh, the thick scar from her bullet wound blemishes the soft, pale skin.

"I'm a better teacher than Ghost, huh?" she says.

"So far," you nod, glancing at him. When you do, his eyes meet yours across the short distance. Only for a second. Before they flicker back down to the bow.

"He hates swimming, you know."

You look at her. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He never really goes in with me." She shrugs and buries her fingers in the grass. "Hey. Look. There are those violets I told you about."

You follow the direction of her eyes and sure enough, a patch of wild violets decorate the ground, gently bent in the breeze. As your clothes dry, the two of you pluck them. They are beautiful. Dark purple petals. You braid them into her hair. She tries to do the same for you, but her braiding skills need some work. It's a nice break from the past week you've had, your sore limbs sprawled against the grass to dry.

It's when the sun starts to lower that Blue puts her jeans back on. Your clothes are still wet, and the wind is starting to pick up, spreading gooseflesh across your skin. 

"Here."

The familiar low voice announces his presence. Tucking your wet hair behind your ears, you look up at Ghost. The two of you haven't exchanged many words except for his occasional correction of your form while cutting wood. 

He stands against the sun. You take the finished bow from him in quiet awe. It's even nicer up close, the smoothed oak caressing your palms as you glide them up and down the length of this new weapon. The first one he gave you was made for a child, but this one is larger, the perfect size for you. Your index finger gives a pluck to the string, feeling the hum of vibrations. He must have just added that. 

"Thank you," you tell him honestly. Whatever uncertainty or irritation you might feel about him doesn't change the swell of gratitude you feel in this moment. It’s a tangible thing that sits in your chest. “It's... great, really."

"Might take some getting used to,” he says gruffly.

You shrug. "That's alright."

You glance to your left where Blue is still changing. With a swallow, you hold the bow tight to your chest. "Do you think I'm ready to try more tomorrow? Not just the wood. I feel like... I feel like I've been getting stronger from it already."

He gives a short nod. "Tomorrow, then."

#simon ghost riley x you #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 15)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, mentions of cannibalism, SMUTTT

Word Count: 2,421

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14)

Notes: okay, I’ve missed this one. It hits. (3/6 of 6 updates for 6k 💙)

_________________________________________

Day 195

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You’re beginning to really hate the decision to leave.

Not only because of the three walkers you’ve seen, all with missing jaws, but there’s a niggling in the back of your mind, screaming at you about Feyre and Rhys. You shouldn’t have left the house, no matter how harrowing the sight you, Cassian, and Azriel had stumbled upon was. 

Cassian and Azriel, the two men who have been taking care of you since. The former had stayed up all night smoking the deer meat over the fire until it was nothing but smolders and a carcass left. You had intended to stay up with him until he was finished but Azriel had pulled you between his legs and all but forced you to lean against him with your head on his chest.

“Sleep,” he’d demanded gruffly, but his fingers brushing the hem of your t-shirt to find your skin were soft, soothing as he traced patterns. His lips were warm against your forehead, his breaths even and strong against your back that had lulled you into sleep in a matter of moments.

You’d been woken up by gentle strokes, the moon high in the sky. Both men had decided that you’d need to move campsites in case any zombies or wild animals were attracted to the carcass. The three of you stumbled through the woods, sticking close to each other. You’d quieted at the soft sound of a creek trickling through the brush and you’d been able to fill your canteens before Cassian washed the blood from his hands and forearms.

By the time the sun had washed its yellow rays upon the sky, you had found your way back to the main strip of highway and have been following it since. The little sleep that Azriel forced you to get had helped a little, but the anxiety rushing through your body at the thought of Feyre and Rhysand out here alone keeps you wired and focused only on made up scenarios of what could have gone wrong.

Had they made it back to the van? Had they tried to come back to the house only to find the letter Azriel had left them? Had they taken the warning and found gas, drove up the road until they’d seen the Eryef signs her sisters had left her? 

“Stop overthinking, sweetheart,” Cassian breaks the silence. He wraps an arm around your shoulder swiping his thumb across the crease in your brows. “We’ll find them.”

“You don’t know that,” you huff, wringing your fingers together. Azriel peers over his shoulder from where he’s scouting ahead, stopping in his tracks until the both of you catch up. You can’t look at either man right now. If it weren’t for you, you’d probably all be back together as a group, or at least waiting safely back at the house of horrors. “We shouldn’t have left them.” 

Azriel pulls you straight into his arms and Cassian closes the pack by pressing his firm body against your back. You’re enveloped by arms and warmth, soaking in both of their confidence that both Feyre and Rhysand are safe and to keep moving is the correct decision for your group of three.

You’re still not quite used to this side of Azriel. How he’s more open to you than before, like it’s been just as much of a struggle to keep away from you as it has been for you. He’s no longer afraid to pull you into his side or chest or arms should he sense your overworking mind. You’re much like him in that way, always playing out every scenario before anything happens. It’s a hard habit to break, one that has gotten him this far, saved his ass more than once, and by the Mother he’ll do whatever he needs to to make sure you find them. 

“Feyre is safe with Rhys, and he is safe with her,” Azriel starts, planting his palms on either side of your cheeks. The marred skin is soft against your cheeks and he tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look in his eyes. The gold in them is stern, as are his following words. “We’re going to see what this Eryef is all about because that’s where they’ll go when they see the signs. We’re going to meet them there and all will be alright.”

“Well, as alright as things can be with the apocalypse and all,” Cassian adds, nuzzling his nose into the juncture of your jaw. The brush of his lips makes you want to laugh, but you’re frozen beneath Azriel’s stare.

“Okay?” he asks you, and he tries to ignore the way that Cassian’s kissing down your neck, running his hands from your hips up your sides. He tries to ignore the way your fingers clutch to the hem of his shirt in response, and the way that your lids flutter. He steps into you and you can feel their stiff cocks pressing into you from front and back. The air is shoved from your lungs the closer they lean. “We’re worrying about us first. We can’t help them if we can’t help ourselves, first. We need to stay level headed, right?”

His lips slanting against yours are all too convincing of that.

“Right?” he asks against your mouth, and you nod, gasping when Cassian’s fingers dip into the waistband of your pants. You grind your hips, drawing delicious moans from both men.

“Right,” you whine, fingers raking down Azriel’s chest. You need them, both of them right now, even in the middle of the fucking forest in the middle of nowhere. You don’t fucking care. “Need you both.”

“If we’re giving her what she needs,” Cassian says, leaning over you to caress Azriel’s jaw. He tucks his thumb and is tipping his chin back, gold eyes clashing with hazel. It makes Azriel’s throat bob and from your vantage point you want to crane your neck and lick over it. “Then we can’t deny her this, Azzy.”

He hums languidly but it chokes off when you press onto your toes to lap across the skin of his throat. It’s salty, musky, and his fingers on your hips tighten. It makes your legs clench together and your cunt drip with want.

“We shouldn’t,” Azriel groans because Gods does he want to. But he’s feeling too exposed out here like this, all tangled up with his lovers. It muddies his mind and if you’re all too preoccupied with the taste of each other, he worries you’ll attract walkers. “Not enough protection.”

“Don’t have any condoms,” Cassian mumbles against Azriel’s mouth.

“From walkers,” Azriel growls, biting at Cassian’s lips. It’s meant as a warning but all it does is make Azriel’s cock jump at the thought of your tight heat milking him dry. He wants to fill you up, watch Cassian fuck his way into you until you’re a moaning mess, leaking their seed. 

He’s right, though. You shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing even now. Anyone could be near hearing the three of you fooling around, dead or alive. It’s a dangerous situation that lust is trying to paint its way over, and no matter how badly you need to feel the press of their bodies against yours again, you need to be careful about it.

“I’m going to find you both a house,” Cassian says gruffly, disappointment lacing his heady tone. He brushes Azriel’s hair back with one hand, and with the other he’s holding you tightly. “One with a fence and room big enough for a garden. We’re going to find a place for Feyre and Rhys nearby, but not so close that they hear me fucking the both of you all day and all night.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head at his words. He says them like he means them, like this is going to happen, and you can admit that it sounds like heaven. Spending the rest of your days with the two of them, always together, never lonely.

“‘M gonna take care of you both,” he continues, tone going soft with promise. Both you and Azriel lean into him, cradling him close. Your stomach twists a little at the thought that passes through your mind like a shooting star. “We’re going to be okay.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Only a few more miles,” Azriel says sometime later, when you’re taking a break. You’re munching on some of the meat Cassian had stowed away last night. You’d all been very lucky with that kill. Animals lurking the woods are a lot less common as they were at the beginning of the apocalypse, with all of the roaming zombies hungry for flesh and blood. They’ll take a bite out of anything with a pulse.

The meat is chewy and bland, but it’s better than most things you’ve eaten since the world ended. There was once when you and Feyre had to force down handfuls of flowers to ease the hunger pains contorting your bodies, but they hadn’t tasted as good as they smelled, but they’d kept you alive. 

“We should be there by nightfall, I reckon.”

You nod, forcing yourself to swallow. You’re not complaining, but your throat protests around the chewed meat, dry as it scrapes down your windpipe. Coughing, you try to dislodge it, and Cassian hands you his canteen to wash it down with. You beam gratefully at him.

“Do you think anyone will be there?” You ask, examining the jerky. “What do you think we’ll find?”

Azriel sighs as he thinks, leaning back against the tree behind him. His gold eyes scour the woods surrounding you. When they pass over your body and they rove down, drinking you in, then does he answer. “Hopefully we can at least find shelter.” 

You clench your thighs together. Clearly, he hasn’t forgotten about earlier when the three of you had been pressed so tightly together you were nearly one. Cassian shifts too and you can see the slight tenting of his jeans. Goosebumps awaken on your flesh as his bare arm brushes yours.

You’re about to speak but a twig snapping draws all of your attention, freezing in your spots.

You shove the rest of the meat into your mouth because by the Mother you will not waste it. Your body is tight with anticipation, and you draw your blade silently from your belt, preparing for the worst.

You peek a glance at Cassian, who shrugs a little. His hazel eyes are sharp, but he can’t see anything any more than you can. He sends a questioning glance over to Azriel, who silently shakes his head. He can’t see anything either.

The unmistakable groan of a walker sounds in the distance and your spine goes straight. It’s about time you’ve seen one. It’s been much too quiet as of late, and you pray to any God that will listen that it’s not a horde.

Slowly, you follow Cassian’s lead to stand. He offers you a hand and you move as silently as you can. Azriel’s already on his feet and moved closer to you. You hadn’t noticed how quickly and quietly he can be when he wants to. 

You’re kind of envious.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulders, both men cover you while you work it into place until your knife is back up at the ready. 

“C’mon you filthy vermin,” a voice cuts through the woods, not caring how loud they are. It carries through the trees easily, like an open field, though you still can’t see anything. “Just a  few more steps.”

It’s a low voice, but unmistakably a woman’s. She sounds agitated as well, especially when the male voice that follows is nothing but a sweet, teasing trap. “Ease up, fawn. We have all day.”

“We don’t,” she disagrees. “Elain will wake soon and if something happens,” her voice pitches higher in distress and the male’s one turns soothing.

“Her condition hasn’t changed in months, Nes. She’ll hold on another day.”

You exchange glances with Cassian and Azriel but the confusion painting their faces is the same as that of yours. What the hell are they talking about?

The sound of a zombie groaning breaks them apart. The woman spits curses at it and her male counterpart chuckles. Cassian presses closer when the voices trail your way.

“All in good time, fawn,” the man says again and he’s back to calling her that nickname. 

“It’s not my fault that they’re so damn stupid. I swear, it’s like being at University all over again.”

You hold your breath as he laughs and she huffs.

There’s a loud snap, the sound of something crunching nearby. It’s a little too close for any of your liking, and when the two of them step around a large oak, finally in your line of vision, they halt.

You watch the smiles slip from their faces, their eyes going hard. Their hands are tangled together but they rip apart as they reach for their weapons. 

You, Azriel, and Cassian raise yours in defense, but no one moves.

The man’s auburn eyes blaze over the three of you, calculating. His features are sharper than the blade in your hand, eyes hard like he could light you on fire with a single look. His copper hair is finger rifled, tousled on the top of his head, but the unruly look works on him. You wonder if the smattering of freckles dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose are marks of all of his kills.

The woman beside him, however, somehow looks even more menacing. The hard lines around her mouth must be from frowning most of her life, much like she is now. Her dirty golden-brown hair is braided back from her face in two long plaits. There’s a bow strapped across her back, and you’re lucky that the three of you caught her whilst she was distracted.

She looks familiar, though, so familiar that it only takes you a moment to place her until you’re dropping your arm and stepping forward, ignoring how Azriel and Cassian grab for you.

The girl’s gray-blue eyes are sharp, deadly even. Her knife is curved and razor-edged, dark blood from her latest kill dripping off of the tip. She doesn’t look like she’s willing to extend any pleasantries in the slightest, but if the next three words out of your mouth don’t stop her from killing the three of you, then maybe you deserve it.

“You’re Feyre’s sister.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36 @bionic-donut @que-serasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer  @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24  @poppyalice2001 @fall-myriad @sstrohma @tcris2020@jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi@ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x cassian x reader #dead by dawn #acotar zombie au #zombie au #acotar au

[huramuna]

even in undeath - chapter 1.

lich king aemond x reader a 'world of warcraft' AU. prev | next

The Lich King is the master and lord of the Scourge. Consisting of thousands of walking corpses, disembodied spirits, beasts of the north, and damned mortal men, the Scourge is a terrifying and insidious enemy.

word count: 2.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, DUBCON, smut, heavy heavy angst, graphic depictions of violence, allusions to cannibalism, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, suicidal thoughts and ideation, mutilation of corpses, obsessive aemond, dark aemond, a happy ending is not in our future. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS! This story will be pretty dark.

story playlist

It was dark and cold. There was a faint dripping of water somewhere off to the side, but you couldn’t quite see where. The echoes of whimpers ricocheted off of the craggy walls, stinging your eardrums. 

This was the descent into madness, wasn’t it?

You weren’t sure how long you’d been chained up for— how long had it been since your village burned to the ground? Since you watched the ghouls rip apart the cow farmer from down the road. Since you watched hellhounds crunching on little Mary Jay’s bones. Since you had watched your mother and stepfather plead and beg for their lives, for forgiveness, for mercy, for absolution of their supposed sins before the death knight’s sword lopped their heads off. 

How long has it been? 

Shifting slightly, the chain tied to your throat clinked against the wall. There was no light, no passage of time to be had in the dank, pitch black cave they stowed you and a few select others in. You only had on a ragged potato sack as a dress, the sensation of dirt and grime caked on your hair and under your nails making you feel less than human. 

But— you were still human. For now. The Scourge had ravaged the Eastern Kingdoms without mercy, swiping through the North and South like a fast traveling plague, curdling and damning everything it touched. Hordes of undead zombies, ghouls and hellhounds were the first to raze the cities, driving out the people like mice from the walls. Then the banshees came, along with the necromancers to raise the dead, adding them to a forever amounting army.

Not even Quel’thalas had been able to resist it, an ancient elven city hewn in magic.

What chance did you have? 

More than most, evidently. Your mind wrought itself over and over as to why— why were you alive? Why were you still human and not merely a risen thrall? 

The clinking of armor scared you as it ascended the hallway. You pressed close to the wall and closed your eyes. 

Please don’t stop here, please don’t stop here. 

Clink, clink, clink… closer… closer… 

Then it passed, descending further away. You let out a breath, your blood still pumping in your ears. 

Clink, clink, clink. They were coming back. Clink… silence. You felt bile rise in your throat as you shook, the chains rattling noisily. You knew they were standing there, you knew they were here for you. 

A harsh tug upon your chain, your head hitting the floor— some words were mumbled, the voice sounding far away and broken. Your eardrums rang with the ferocity of your fall, drowning out any semblance of what your jailer was saying to you. Then, you were tugged upward, the cool metal of the collar biting into your skin as you were dragged like a petulant child away from your cell… 

You didn’t want to open your eyes. You couldn’t face the horror you knew was around you— corpses, living ones and dead, the clatter of bones, the heavy breathing of gargantuan abominations, bodies and faces of countless people stitched together into a new body, hewn with thread and necrotic magic until it gave way to something else entirely. Something unnatural, something made of nightmares. The dermis of those who were used to make the monsters would still twitch, reach out on its own, and if it had a mouth, it would be twisted into a scream. You swore that you heard them whispering as you were dragged by. 

The monstrosities were one of many abhorrent creatures at the Scourge’s disposal. Hellhounds, ghouls, gargoyles, wraiths, crypt lords, geists, banshees, and other things of horrific nature were only some of the power wielded by the Scourge. It felt like it was all pulled out of a child’s fairytale, changed and twisted and defiled into what it was now. 

It all felt like a very bad dream. 

Your eyes opened on their own and you took in the image of death knights, former paladins who served a higher power, the Light— now are nothing but undead heretics, glowing eyes and gaunt stares that bored through you. 

Some of the monsters chittered as you were dragged past them, leering and looking hungry. 

‘Scrawny that one. Perhaps she will suffice for hellhounds to pick their teeth.’

‘Speak for yourself, her skin will do beautifully on a new abomination.’ 

‘She won’t be knighted. Merely a maid’s bastard, I’ve heard.’

You forced your eyes to close once more, the sudden light stinging them. You forced yourself into another time, a better memory than what you were experiencing. 

They were right, you were a maid’s bastard. Your mother had served in the royal keep for years, with you under her feet. You didn’t know who your true father was, nor did you care.

You became attached to the second son of the King— Aemond Targaryen. He was a sprightly boy with near white hair and luminous violet eyes. The two of you were attached at the hip. 

Childhood friendship blossomed into more as you grew into teenagers and young adults— you shared your first kiss together, you held hands and shared sweet nothings. As he trained by day to become a paladin of the Light, he held you close by night, vowing to never let you go. You were both terribly in love and so terribly, terribly naive. He was your first in everything– your first friend, your first kiss, your first lover. You promised yourself that he would stay your first and only.

‘You can never marry a maid’s bastard, Aemond! You’re a prince of the realm-‘

‘I don’t care! I want her, father. I’ve always wanted her!’

Your mother quit her job at the castle— moreso, threatened into quitting by some of the King’s advisors. She was given a considerable amount of coin and told to take you far, far away and to not contact the prince again. 

Heartbroken, you left him your sapphire ring, the only thing of value you ever had, which had been passed down through your mother’s family for generations. 

It was left on his desk with a note of few words but much feeling. 

‘I love you. I’m sorry.’ 

That was over ten years ago. You hadn’t seen him since, but you missed him horribly. Especially now. You wondered if he was still alive, fighting against the Scourge like his knightly vows dictated. 

Maybe he was married and moved across the sea to Kalimdor where it was safer. 

Or maybe he was dead. Dead like almost everyone else you knew. 

You heard a rumor, fleeting and without much more information, that his father had died– no, that his father had been murdered. The fall of the king, Viserys, is what started the Scourge war. Did Aemond know, wherever he was? 

You imagined him holding his arms around you, kissing your neck and fanning his breath over your skin. He liked to encompass you completely with his body when you laid together— you never could emulate the feeling with heavy blankets and pillows, as much as you tried. Putting yourself back into that memory, you wrapped your arms around yourself, willing warmth into your body. 

But you didn’t feel any warmth. All you felt was cold, cold down to your bones. They felt brittle, like ice, splintering into shards as you were thrown on the floor again in a different room. Pain bloomed in your arm as it cracked at an awkward angle. Broken. 

Your ears rang again as your mouth opened into a scream, tears of pure anguish squeezing from your eyes. But you didn’t hear a thing besides the rush of blood dampening your senses— and the sickening crunch of your broken bones. 

‘What have you done to it, Lady Deathwhisper? It looks broken.’ 

‘It’s human bones are so brittle, it was merely a slip of the hand. I cannot help that their living constitution is so weak.’ 

‘His grace will not be pleased if it is broken beyond repair.’ 

‘Worry not, Lady Alys. Most things can be mended— and if not, it can always be raised.’ 

‘Physical defects aren’t the only issue. What of its mind?’

You feel an acute sensation over your skull, reaching into the depths of your cranium. Its cold, but not stinging— like a soft caress upon your brain as your mind is rifled through like a tome. You can feel your memories being perused, all of the most intimate moments of your life flashing in your head like playwright’s prose. The physicality of your mind being invaded wasn’t painful, but the act of your memories being ripped from you was damning. Tears fell down your face on their own, your mouth opened into a silent scream.

‘She is the one— I saw it. You are lucky that you did not break her mind completely, Lady Deathwhisper.’ 

‘As are you. You do not have a deft hand when it comes to memory perusal, Lady Alys. I am surprised that it still has a brain in its skull.’ 

‘Shut up and bring her to him. He will be pleased she is still alive. Barely.’ 

You felt yourself being moved again, still reeling from the invasion of your mind. You tried to put yourself back into the safe haven of memories, but they were… locked. Locked behind an iron door with no keyhole. They were lost to you. 

What were you trying to remember? 

Flashes of white hair and violet eyes flitted behind your eyelids, soft caresses and kisses, heavy breathing and love filled promises, the sensation of skin to skin… 

Your eyes opened, vision bleary. A helmed woman followed behind you, wings outstretched. You could see the glint of green eyes under her helm. Val’kyr. The woman behind you was a Val’kyr, a spirit guide who defected to the side of the Scourge. They could move between the realm of living and dead as simply as taking a breath. 

“The little human is awake,” she mused. “Your mind isn’t broken after all? I do see a glint of intelligence behind those eyes. Keep them on me, you shan’t wish to look upon Lady Deathwhisper.” 

You didn’t want to speak, words caught in your throat like food stuck in your craw. A val’kyr was basically an angel of death and talking to one must mean you are dead. 

You wish you were. 

The chains scraped against the floor, which was no longer stone like before, but rather, hardened ice. You were ascending upward, it seemed. The architecture of the building was nothing like you’d ever seen— dark metal was plated upon the walls, inscribed with glowing runes. The runes looked… familiar to you, somehow. But the memory that contained them was locked away, or mayhaps stolen by the Val’kyr, Alys. 

The temperature was cold, you were being lofted upon ice, of course, but you didn’t wholly feel it. You were partially numb, heat radiating from your broken arm. You knew you should be feeling pain— but you were just… numb. 

Your escorts stopped in front of two large doors, inscribed with the same glowing runes. Against Alys’ advice, you glanced at ‘Lady Deathwhisper’. She was skeletal, floating upon the ground with no legs to speak of. Her robes were purple fabric, molded around an incorporeal body. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand, the scratchy voice of hers coming out of a bone skull, but the mouth wasn’t moving, maw open as the words came out. 

You should have listened to Alys. 

The door opened with a rumble, opened by ancient magic, likely imbued by the runes, as they flickered and flitted above your head as it opened. The room beyond was open and bereft of almost anything, except for a throne. A throne forged of ice and swords. 

Someone was sitting upon it in a lazed position, one plated gloved finger tapping on the arm of the throne.

“We’ve brought her, your grace,” Lady Deathwhisper growled, shoving you forward. You skidded across the floor, which felt slick like grazing atop an ice-capped lake. “Alys confirmed it is her.”

The clinking of armor caught your attention, the sound of metal grazing against ice. It was irritating and made you grind your teeth. As whoever was on the throne got closer, the force was oppressive. Whimpers and tiny cries were ripped from you as they walked towards you, the aura exuding from them causing you to fall flat to the ground, feeling as if someone was sitting atop of your chest and not letting up.

The steel plated boot was in front of you now and your hair was grabbed rather harshly, pulling you up. 

Don’t look, don’t look. You cannot look.

“Look. At. Me.” the voice growled. It was quiet but commanding at the same time, rattling in your bones and making a home amongst the marrow. It felt familiar… so… 

You lifted your bloodshot eyes, not out of your own volition, but from the authority of the voice.

“Hello, little dove.” he mused.

It was him. It was… it… Aemond. You knew him so well, even with ten years gone. His chiseled jawline and chin and the dimple of the tip of his nose… 

But his eye was missing, a jagged scar bisecting it. In its place was a sapphire. The sapphire from your ring, grown into something to make home in the socket.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, your stomach flipped and flopped like a fish hoisted from the sea, sputtering for air. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t–

Your best friend, your lover, the one you vowed to never forget, to never forsake.

Aemond Targaryen. 

Aemond Targaryen was the Lich King. A defiler, a mass murderer, an unholy being in his own right.

“Now you won’t be able to leave again, will you?” Aemond murmured, his violet eye roving you. It was glowing slightly– his skin was a pale gray pallor, cheeks sunken slightly. He was undead.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, vision going black.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing #even in undeath #hotd au

[throwaway-yandere]

Ansy maybe I can send an idea about this. Maybe this yandere is turning into a zombie/monster, Reader sacrifices or willingly let's the yandere eat reader so the yandere wouldn't hurt others. Other idea, Yandere is a monster/cannibal and reader has a flesh that is very addicting to eat so yandere feels guilty for eating their darling but can't as darling tastes so delicious.

A/n: I'm actually currently writing the prompt I got earlier so here's some short ideas. also, what's up with me writing cannibalism fics for two older brothers with blue-white color schemes?? *shrug*. I'll go with the 2nd idea-ish (I'll tweak it again) in this one. First time doing headcanons so... I'll adios lol.

Content Tags: hello its yandere cannibalism lmao + Whodunit spoilers

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who strangely takes too long to respond to his childhood friend's messages. You're starting to get worried that he's spending too much time inside the dreamscape. Although your race greatly differs from his- being an ordinary human resident and all- you heard numerous stories that Halovians tend to carnally seek glamorous feasts after hosting series of events.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who finally replied to your recent message, telling you "DON'T COME, PLEASE." with bold capital letters. You can only raise an eyebrow, considering you're already on his front door with a fruit basket at hand. In hindsight, perhaps you should've considered giving him a heads-up beforehand instead of rudely announcing your visit. But you are genuinely worried for his overall wellbeing, especially given what happened to his sister.

And perhaps, you were also just looking for someone who could understand your grief as well. He wasn't the only one stripped of their family so suddenly. The thought of your friend starving himself had pushed your own sadness away in favor of sheer platonic worry. That was how strong your bond was.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who shook, mortified at the knocks on his front door. As much as possible, he can't let you in. The current nightmare he calls "HUNGER" was an unforgiving beast. He leaned against the other side of the closed door, breathing heavily.

"(Y/n), n-now is not the time for a visit! Forgive me for this crudeness, but I shan't open the door at present." You hear him inhale shakily. "To have you see me like this undermines all the work I've put in our... friendship."

You sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry. But... can I please just leave this on your porch?"

"... I will not bar you from doing so..."

"Thank you."

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY whose hands refused to stop trembling. You're so close. He can almost taste you behind that door. A chill runs down his spine as he noticed just how much his mouth was watering at the thought of taking a bite.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who thought himself most detestable for his cravings. The Odes of Harmony preaches honesty among its many virtues, and he would drown himself for omitting the grim truth from you. THEY will not be happy with this relapse of his.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who bit his thumb, drawing blood. THEY wouldn't endorse this behavior from a representative of the Family.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who looked at his bleeding finger and laughed sorrowfully at the lingering question on his mind.

Whose blood was it? His... or THEIRS?

Sunday could never be at ease after committing this crime. A Halovian like himself would never allow their vision to be clouded in red, and it appears the devil had saw an opportunity to hurl at two birds with one stone. But that would be an inaccurate way to describe it. His wings had not been clipped; he had brutally torn it away himself.

Penacony's most shrewd man lied to the arrogant fool that evening. There were four murders in that timeframe. One was a stowaway, the other was his precious sister, and the last pair was both your father and mother.

THEIR vision of a happy future for you did not welcome HIM.

All he recalls now was their polite disapproval turned screams when he made an attempt to ask for their blessing. Sunday only realized what he had done the moment he had sunk his teeth down your mother's arm, noticing how your father was already but boney remains of himself.

This Halovian ancestry's secret... it served him no good.

Why was he born into this race and why wasn't he raised just like you?

"Watchmaker... How can I ever forgive myself for this...?"

How can he dare proclaim to mete out justice when he deserves to be served the same sentence? "Sunday" himself is a transgressor, unworthy of yielding Harmony's name.

What heathen he was, to partake in flesh and blood that was not for his stomach simply because they both smelled just like you. What heretic he was, to place anger and hunger above his better judgement.

What karma it was, to find out his sister has been killed in his moments of guilt.

What retribution it was, to face that what he had done to others, will be done unto him.

#ansy-writes #yandere sunday #tw: cannibalism #yandere fic #yandere hsr #yandere sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere headcanons

[utilitycaster]

look, I know polls are silly and fun and so I want you to understand writing this rant is silly and fun for me but EMON? Emon is the Critical Role Entry for Most Place of All Time? I must call bullshit. And so:

Friends, fellow critters, and people who have me blocked but hate read my blog each morning over breakfast: Emon is not even the Most Place on the Material Plane. It is not even the Most Place in Tal'Dorei. Hell, it's not even the Most Place on the fucking Bladeshimmer Shoreline, which includes a destroyed city now overtaken by bandits, and a cave system that hosts both a rift to the Far Realm and a different rock than residuum that can make a different magical drug than suude. Emon is if you took the aggressively mid vibes of Washington, DC and transplanted them to the inconvenient location and city of refuge for flaky people who avoid gluten for non-medical reasons of Los Angeles. The second Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III invents the motorcar that sumbitch is going to have traffic bad enough to summon Tharizdun. Also there's a literal pit of fire that's been burning for 30 years that both hasn't been adequately addressed but also doesn't really seem that interesting. Like oh a bunch of dragons destroyed your city? Big deal. Draconia got so fucked up it doesn't exist anymore, and at least Westruun has some fucking charm. At least Pike and Grog actually lived there, whereas Vox Machina got a house in Emon and proceeded to spend their time literally anywhere else.

Here is a brief list of places on the planet of Exandria in the Material Plane - not even across Critical Role's main campaigns/EXU, which includes such non-Exandrian places as "living city of people who mind-melded and escaped to the Astral Sea during a century-plus-long war of the gods"; "Ligament Manor"; "Ryn's groovy pied-a-feu, man I wonder what made the scorch marks on that furniture, anyway", and "THE MOON THAT IS ACTUALLY AN PRISON FOR A THING THAT EATS GODS AND IS POSSIBLY HATCHING" - that are more of a place than Emon:

Jrusar: 5 spires no waiting, sweet cable car system, city almost entirely destabilized by goo creatures as part of an overly complicated plot to blow up the aforementioned moon

Bassuras: (literally "garbagetown") Run by Mad Max gangs and everyone is cool with it; regular sandstorms; one of those gangs apparently sits atop a hive mind and NO ONE has examined this (except for them)?)

Whitestone: has a tree planted by one god over a buried temple to another god that was corrupted in the name of a third, shittier god; overrun by zombies but it's fine now; streetlights and two bears that are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want.

Yios: The canal system of Venice meets the colleges per capita of Boston meets the orcs from your fantasies, also there's some kind of kitchen-based organized crime ring so intricate it could be its own campaign (so, also like Boston).

Vasselheim: literally no one understands what the fuck its government system is. Old as balls. Temples everywhere! Temples full of trees. Temples full of blood! Temples full of an old guy who will kick your ass. A sphinx that regulates the monster hunter mini-game. Presumably the giant titan full of the ancient cannibal dwarf city is like, still there, as a new fixture, since I don't see how they're moving that.

The arctic: where teleportation doesn't work, there's a river of lava in the middle of the snow, ancient ruins full of snow globes full of actual people, and the Chaos Bisexual Emerald - and that's just a smattering of what Eiselcross has to offer.

Since this is about space and not time we can toss Aeor and Avalir too, since they once were places, and while we're at it whatever the fuck is going on with the Shattered Teeth and its permanent fog cloud and fish dream cult and capitalist shipwrecked merchants.

And, of course, any arbitrary square millimeter of Wildemount, frankly, has more Mostness than the entirety of Emon could muster under absolutely ideal conditions. But for the sake of one place per region, let's hand it to Rosohna (city of eternal night for practical purposes, built over the Evil God Headquarters); Uthodurn (underground! Giant goats! Elves and dwarves, living together, mass hysteria!); Hupperdook (steampunk gnome party city); Nicodranas (Fjord, Jester, Veth, Marion, and Yussa literally all live there at once; plumbing used to be courtesy of an imprisoned marid...but watch out); and Blightshore (Blightshore).

In conclusion: Emon is boring, nominating it was a mistake, there are literally sealed gods in other parts of the world and also way better taverns, good night, and what the fuck.

#critical role #long post