#kid me ending up with scars from a series of bites from a dog i wasnt even told was there when i was babysitting: not at fault

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, attempted assault, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader finds herself at an impasse.

Note: Things are heating up and we're starting to go full force over here <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Days passed in idle anticipation. You kept Elina locked up with you and she grew more restless by the hour. When Lord Zemo came at night, she was happier but your sense of dread and impatience only grew. When the retinue arrived, you only wanted them to leave, but knowing who was roaming just floors below, you were anxious to strike first.

The baron was ever the voice of sense. Zemo was no beacon of morality, you knew that, but his honesty made him respectable. You considered how blatant he was in his intentions as compared to those other noblemen who painted their bad deeds as gifts. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely trustworthy but he didn’t trying to make you think otherwise.

You did your best to keep your daughter occupied with her many toys and quiet songs hummed out of tune. You bounced her on your hip as best you could with your cane in your other hand and crawled around with her like a dog. She was only calm when she slept as she longed for the sunlight that taunted her through the window.

You began to wonder how long the men would stay; how long you would be expected to stay hidden. Zemo mentioned vengeance and you dreamt of it every night. It was the only thing that kept you from quaking in fear and panic.

Tess brought your dinner and you placed it on the low table and sat on the floor with Elina and ate. You gave her tiny morsels to chew on or toss back at you. She was an energetic kid, stubborn and strong, and seemed to find fun in even the most dull tasks. You hoped she would grow up to be happier than you. Surely, she’d be more bold and more blessed.

As you chewed on some chicken, you heard that familiar knock on the door. Tess always gave a tiny tap and called through the wood but Zemo always gave that rhythmic beating. It was the latter, he was early that day. It made you worry as you left Elina to squeeze a piece of sweet potato and stood with your can dug into the wood.

You crossed to the door and turned the latch slowly. You opened the door and leaned heavily on the wooden stick, “well, you are earl--” your voice hung in the air as you stared at the familiar face, though it wasn’t Zemo.

You pushed the door but the man caught it and kept it two inches from the frame as he came closer. Peter’s hand trembled as he clung to the wood and gaped at you. He shook his head and blinked dumbly. The two years had given his face character and his shoulders a little more width.

“You’re alive?” he breathed.

“You can’t-- you have to go,” you pushed the door with a grunt, “please, go.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead,” he croaked, “I thought I--”

“Go away. Please!” you begged, “I can’t talk to you.”

“Or you won’t talk to me?” he challenged as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame, “how--”

“How did you find me?” you gasped.

He lowered his eyes and guiltily and clamped his lips shut. He sniffed and looked at you again, “I thought Zemo was hiding something from us. I followed him last night and listened… I couldn’t hear anything, I only saw him come here and knock.”

“No one else can know,” you said, “you can’t-- please go and don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t but-- I want to talk to you,” he insisted.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” you argued, “you must go. If Zemo discovers you--”

“I don’t care if he does. Don’t you understand, I--I-- I thought I killed you.”

You were silent as you stared into his face. You saw the pain in his eyes, the shock laced with relief. But it was all tinted with the guilt he’d carried since that day. The false guilt you’d given him.

“I’m sorry, Peter, it was the only way out--”

“My aunt cried everyday for you and she never let me forget what you said to me. I never could forget,” he hissed.

“I know, but you have to--” Elina made a noise as she came over and clung to your leg, smearing food down your skirt. Peter looked at her and his lips parted in surprise, “no one can know about her.”

He nodded and gulped. He looked up and down the corridor. “I wouldn’t tell but I can’t go until we talk, I…” his voice cracked, “I need to tell you I was wrong. I lied.”

“El,” you bent to wipe her face and lifted her, “please, stay here,” you bid Peter as you turned and hobbled across the room.

You placed her in her cot, thought she only began to fuss, but you shoved a stuffed caribou into her hands and left her to poke its eyes. You went back to the door and found Peter staring at your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that’s my fault,” he nodded to the cane, “and that,” he looked to the scar down your face, “I saw it. I tried to follow you that day but I wasn’t fast enough and you were--”

“No, it wasn’t you. I said it was because I could. I couldn’t tell the man who made me do this so I told you instead. That was unfair and unkind,” you blinked away tears, “and I hurt more than just myself.”

He mulled your words and picked at his sleeve. He dressed finer than the last you’d met, “I didn’t mean what I said to Barnes. You were sweet to me and my aunt told me what you were, he told me you were worse, but I didn’t truly care. I only knew he was hurting you and I was making that worse so I thought if I stayed away, he’d stop.”

“No one can stop him. No one. Those men, they cannot be stopped. They are evil in the flesh, they are borne to greed and cruelty. They only see what they can get, not what they can give because they won’t ever be denied--”

You heard a clamor, the pounding of footsteps from the stairway, and the frantic breathing of whoever was approaching. You opened the door further and pulled Peter inside. You shut the door and leaned against it with him as you listened and watched through the crack.

“Away, away,” you heard Melinda’s airy pleas as she swept past your door, “please, sir, away!”

“I just want to play a little game,” the deep voice made your blood curdle then the realisation of what he was doing made it boil even hotter. You gripped your cane as Peter frowned at you, “come here, pet, I don’t bite.”

Melinda squeaked as Lord Rogers’ footsteps slowed and you heard the struggle that followed. The muffled collision of her body against the wall, the small girl’s broken breath as it was knocked from her, and his lewd growl as he pounced.

You pushed Peter away from you and tore open the door. They were closer than you thought. Just against the wall opposite your room. Lord Rogers’ body shielded the girl’s body almost entirely. You raised your cane without a second thought and brought it down on his shoulders.

As he exclaimed and staggered, you hit him again, the time in the back of the head. You swooped your cane down and banged his knees so that he fell onto the stone. You hit him again in the side as he wheezed and you stood over him.

“Bastard! Bastard!” you hit him as the young maid and the other lord watched in shock, “how dare you? You beast!”

Peter grabbed your arm and stopped you as Rogers rolled onto his back and coughed. He groaned as he reached to his head and you were pulled away from him. You struggled with Peter as you wanted badly to hit him again.

“Melinda,” you said as you struggled, “go fetch the baron. Now!”

She skittered off like a mouse, careful to tiptoe around Rogers as he sat up and gripped his right shoulder where you’d hit him. He chuckled as he looked up at you. He grinned beneath the trickle of blood on his lips.

“Oh, well, what a treat this is,” he mocked, “the whore lives.”

“You’re vile,” you snarled, “I should bash you like the snake you are.”

“Parker,” he spoke to the man at your side, “hold her for me.” He grunted as he pushed himself up and stumbled a little on his feet, “let us remind her of who she is… oh, Barnes might come out of his rooms for this.”

He reached to his belt but Peter let you go. You looked over at him and he crossed his arms and shrugged. You gripped your cane tight and swung it again. The strike caught Lord Rogers across his chin and the next in the tender flesh of his side. You jabbed his chest so he was again on his back but he could barely get his arms up to keep away the storm of blows.

When he was limp and prone before you, you slowly lowered the cane. You quivered as you stared down at what you’d done. His breaths came in rattles. You leaned on your right leg as your left shook and you lifted the carefully carved stick.

You pulled the silver topper until it dislodged and revealed the long silver blade. Peter caught your wrist as you raised the dagger.

“Don’t, it’ll change you. It’ll make you as bad as him,” he whispered.

You looked at him and your hand shook. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks and you heard Elina murmuring, louder and louder as she wondered where you were. You sheathed the knife and plunked your cane down on the stone.

Footsteps drew you back to the end of the corridor as Zemo appeared from the stairwell. His face dropped as he saw you standing over Rogers. He took a breath but did not look angry.

“Well, I did hope to delay this a little longer,” he said as he approached, “but that Rogers was ever the petulant pest.”

“I’m sorry, he--”

“Oh, I can guess at it,” he nodded to Melinda as she followed meekly behind him, “I’d have done it myself if I had the displeasure of witnessing his lechery.” He came up to Peter and stopped, “but I will do what I must.”

“He won’t hurt us,” you said, “Peter… isn’t like them.”

“But he is loyal to his kingdom,” he pointed at Peter’s chest harshly.

“I am a viscount. Not a duke or earl even. I serve men like that on the floor because I have to, not because I want to,” Peter countered, “I have no lealty to the men who leave women like this.” He looked at you and bowed his head, “but I will admit I am not innocent of it.”

Zemo looked at you and stilled your hand as it was still shaking. "Do you vouch for him, lady?"

"He is a good man. If anything, I have drawn him unjustly into this mess," you said, "I knew you wanted to wait longer--"

"No use in apologies," Zemo grasped your shoulder and squeezed, "this stalemate would not have lasted forever. I am not entirely unprepared."

Elina began to bawl and Zemo brushed past you. He returned with her in his arms, rocking her until she quieted. He cradled her cheek with a mournful gaze and his lips curved for just a moment.

"Be quick, we must leave before the moon. We will move the lord out of the corridor and be away before they can discover him," he said, "by the morning, the castle should be empty but for our foreign visitors and it will take them some time to return to their home with news of such catastrophe."

"Is he dead?" you asked as you looked at Rogers' boots.

"An ox like him? Not yet, just annoyingly on the precipice," Zemo replied, "if we're fortunate, he'll have some lingering detriment but we cannot kill him. That would be an unforgivable mistake."

You heard a grumble and a croaky chuckle. Zemo turned and you looked down on the dazed duke.

"That is a beautiful girl," Lord Rogers rasped, "looks like her father."

Zemo's pupils turned to pinpoints and he handed you Elina. He bent and knocked Rogers across the cheek so that his head bounced off the stone. The baron shook out his hand as he stood straight and his nostrils flared.

"Lord Parker, was it?" He looked to Peter, "help me move him. We haven't time to spare."

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #fic #series #hue and cry #dark fic #dark!fic #peter parker #steve rogers #sam wilson #falcon #captain america #winter soldier #spider-man #au #medieval au #medieval!au #mcu #marvel

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 23: Almost Too Easy

((Y/N catches up with Wilford before they have a meeting with the studio’s manager.

This and the next part are both going to be on the longer side. I also feel like I should give a head’s up that there is some gaslighting happening the later conversation. Just one character being all around not okay, but that’s pretty normal for him.

And here are links to yesterday’s part and to the series masterlist if you need them.))

You waited until the studio doors closed behind the others, and then a little longer to give yourself time to breathe, to prepare yourself for what might happen next. And still, you had no idea what to say to the man who was still whistling to himself, as though waiting to be invited back into your earlier conversation.

“Colonel,” you said, and the whistling stopped.

Wilford looked over at you and beamed. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in years! I’ve gone through so many over the years, you know, can hardly keep track of them all…What did you say your name was, again?”

“What?” you stared at him, sure that he must be joking. But as the silence went on too long, you asked, “You don’t…you don’t remember me?”

Wilford approached and leaned on the back of the chair he had been sitting in a minute ago as he studied you. “Of course! You told me your name earlier, it was…Dave, right?”

“Dave?” you repeated.

“Dave!” Wilford plopped down in the chair and leaned toward you again, his eyes bright. “How have you been? How’s the wife and kids? See, couldn’t be sure, you don’t look like a Dave, but something about your face just reminded me of that name, you know?”

“Colonel, I’m not Dave,” you said. “You told me…you told me how Dave died, remember? Do you remember, we were sitting outside, and you—you showed me your arm?”

Wilford glanced down at his arm and rolled back his shirt sleeve to reveal the bite mark, still as livid as the first time he showed it to you, when he told you how the ambush on his unit ended with him bitten and his comrade past any hope of saving.

“Y-yeah, I remember…” Wilford said softly, running his fingers over the scars. “Good man, that Dave.”

He blinked hard for a moment before he looked back up at you, and for the first time, recognition seemed to spread across his face. “Y/N! Why, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been, what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been trapped in a mirror for decades.”

“Well, that’s still no excuse not to visit,” Wilford scolded, shaking a finger at you. “You’re as bad as that hunter, haven’t seen that guy since the party. Wonder what he’s been doing.”

“I think he’s been looking for you,” you said, thinking now might not be the time to bring up why. “Is there anyone else from the party that you have seen? Like…”

“I think that butler and the chef opened up a restaurant together,” Wilford said, scratching his chin. “Good place, fun crowd, you should go there sometime.”

“Yeah, I’ve been.” You hesitated, knowing who you really wanted to ask about, but before you got a chance, Wilford was practically in your face, grinning knowingly.

“Go there with someone else?” he asked. “Like on a date?”

“No. I was stuck as a wolf at the time, and couldn’t change back no matter how hard I tried.”

Wilford nodded, as though this was a common problem. “It’s hard to get back into the dating scene after a while. Just give it time, find someone special, you’ll work it out. And don’t marry just because they have a funny name, believe me, it does not last.”

“You got married? What about Celine?” you asked, realizing a fraction of a second too late what you had just said.

But instead of becoming upset, Wilford’s eyes went soft and he said, almost dreamily, “Oh, Celine. My heart still beats for her to this day, or as much as it beats for anything. But if she saw me, she’d probably carve mine out.”

You started to ask why he thought that, only for the memory of that face on the other side of the glass to come to mind, the look of utter disgust on his face before he walked away. So completely different than the man you thought you knew.

You blinked rapidly and focused on your breath, until you felt calm enough to take another shot at getting something close to an answer out of Wilford.

“At the restaurant, I was with someone else,” you said, trying to ignore the knowing smile on his face. “A man who called himself the Host.”

“Like the game show host?” Wilford asked. “Bim’s a bit hard not to recognize, but I can bring him back if you need another go at it—”

“No, not Bim. He wore bandages around his eyes, and walked with a staff. And he had a voice, that could get other people to do what he wanted. Does that sound familiar to you at all?”

There had to be some kind of connection here. At the park, where the Host had been attacked, you smelled what you now recognized was that magitek thing, Google, and his scent had led you to the disco, to Abe, to Wilford.

But Wilford shrugged and said, “Doesn’t ring a bell. Course, it all gets jumbled up, mixed together these days. That Google guy always says I’d wander off on my own if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on me, like I don’t do that every other day. You have to, around here, if you ever want to actually have some fun. Why, if it were up to him, I’d never leave the studio at all!”

“…Why are you here, Wilford?” It occurred to you that Bim had acted as though he had been asked to find somewhere to put Wilford, as though someone had brought him into the studio and only then realized they needed something for him to actually do. You remembered the flyer, the note written on the back of it. “Who asked you to come here?”

He winked at you and said, “Same one who invited you, I’m guessing. You are a VIP, after all.”

Your mind immediately went to the scent that took you from the park to that flyer, to Google. He worked for the studio, but who did he answer to, really? The Jim twins and Bim both invoked the studio’s policies and rules when talking to him—if he really was just a mixture of magic and technology, then it made sense that he would be bound to some kind of rule system, but he still needed someone to give him orders.

“Oh, someone’s looking thinky,” Wilford said. “And that’s no good for anybody. You’ve gotta trust those instincts of yours, Y/N!”

“If I did that, I wouldn’t even be here right now,” you muttered. “Col—Wilford, doesn’t something feel off about this place to you?”

“Mmm…no?” Wilford shrugged and jumped out of his chair, as though sitting still for any length of time was completely beyond him. He paced around a bit before adding over his shoulder, “And is that what your instincts are really saying? To turn tail and run?”

You started to answer, only to hesitate at the last second. Part of you was wishing that you had taken Chase up on his offer to just leave, to let this lie and walk away, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Not when you had found the Colonel again, for the same reason you couldn’t bring yourself to just let Abe leave without trying to reach out to him, even though you had every reason not to trust him. Because you could feel the edge of something bigger here, of answers to questions you had been left alone with for far too long.

“My instinct’s saying someone here knows more than they should, about what happened to us,” you answered, but when you stood up you realized that Wilford wasn’t listening to you anymore.

His gaze was distant, fixed on nothing in particular that you could see.

“Colonel?” you asked, and when he didn’t respond you prodded his arm carefully. “Wilford? Is something wrong?”

He jumped, putting several feet in between the two of you as he brushed at his forehead and said, “Yes? No, just realized that Bim might be on to something with that lunchtime thing. Positively starving, you?”

Before you could answer, he was already moving toward the studio doors at a fast clip that you could barely keep up with when it occurred to you to try and follow him, and he said, “I have a room here, you know? My name on a star and everything, they bring me my meals on the regular there, I bet it’s already waiting.”

“Wilford—” The name still felt strange on your lips as you followed him out into the hallway, where he paused only briefly before lurching off again. “Your…your meals, they aren’t—You still eat a lot of meat, right?”

“Of course! I love me my meat, you won’t see me turning vegetarian anytime soon,” Wilford said, pausing at a door that really did have a star and the name “Wilford Warfstache” on it to give you a wink. “Sorry, I just get a little antsy if it’s been a while. You know how it is.”

“You’re still craving meat,” you said, more of an observation than a question when you could already smell what was waiting for him on the other side of the door. “Has it—has your condition been a problem? I mean, does it seem to have gotten better at all, or…?”

Wilford opened his door and positively beamed at the stack of slabs of meat piled up on a plate, all of which could barely qualify as medium rare. Someone had bothered with trying to season it, at least, but the smell underneath the spices still made your stomach turn.

“I feel like that’s something I would remember…” Wilford mused, the same man who had mistaken you for his dead comrade just minutes ago. You remembered how he told you his hunting kept him well stocked enough to curb the cravings, but you wondered how he had kept that up before ending up here. As your roommates had discovered while trying to feed a wolf, meat was expensive when you weren’t out getting it yourself. That the kitchen staff here were ready to send up this kind of meal on the regular suggested that someone else here knew about Wilford’s condition. He shrugged and asked, “Are you hungry? I’m always willing to share, and the kitchen staff here can send up more—”

“No,” you said quickly, taking a step back from the dressing room. It was one thing to eat that much meat as a wolf, but even then uncooked meat did some bad things to your imagination. “No, I’m…I’m good. Thanks.”

“They make some excellent desserts,” Wilford offered, but his further mentions of cakes and pies while you could still smell the fresh meat just made your nausea worse. “Okay, your loss. Still, don’t be a stranger! I don’t want to wait however long it’s been to see you again, do you hear me?”

“…I’ll try,” you said, and that seemed to be answer enough as he smiled at you before closing the dressing room door behind him. You stood alone in the hallway for a moment, feeling a strange sense of sadness as you looked at the star on the door.

Celine had promised him, once, to help find a cure for the zombie bite that had infected him. That he had been able to stay in control of himself this long was amazing, but you knew from your own condition that just being able to control something didn’t mean that it wasn’t still a problem. It just meant living with the fear of losing that control.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself those kinds of thoughts right now weren’t exactly helping you or Wilford. Walking back to the elevator, you paused and stared at the up and down arrows, and the directory sign next to the buttons. Chase had said the Jim twins were taking him and Jameson to Studio 5, but you still hesitated to hit the button that would call the elevator. Right now, you found yourself alone and unsupervised in the studio; not a chance you could hope to have very often, or if you rejoined the others.

Inside the elevator, you studied the buttons before selecting the unlit human resources button, just to see where it would take you. Plus, it was near the top where you suspected more of the higher-up offices would be, and someone there might be able to point you in the right direction. Google had said he was going to report to a producer, so maybe it was one of them who hired Wilford. And, if nothing else, being a werewolf did leave you with a talent for eavesdropping from far enough away not to be noticed if you were careful.

Except when the doors slid open on the Human Resources floor, they revealed dark hallways and empty desks, along with a smell of cleaning supplies that hadn’t completely banished the musty scent of undisturbed air and dust bordering on decay. A scent that was all too familiar to you. You punched the close doors button, pressing it over and over again until they finally slid shut and quickly selected the next floor up.

Only to have the doors slide open and reveal a set of offices that looked a lot more like you had expected, alongside a surprised-looking woman standing outside waiting to take the elevator.

“Who are you?” she asked, even as her eyes went down to the visitor’s badge hanging around your neck.

“Uh—”

“Oh, Y/N,” she said, her tone changing quickly. “Did Google send you to the wrong floor? He was supposed to take you to the studio manager’s office himself.”

“Manager?” you repeated. “I think I might have—”

Before you could come up with an excuse, she smiled and said, “Don’t worry, this place can be easy to lose yourself in if you don’t know where you’re going. Let me show you.”

She stepped into the elevator alongside you and pressed yet another button, except this one did have a label: “ID Required.”

“Your badge should work, if Google’s added you to the list,” she said. “Just hold it up in front of the scanner, and it’ll read the code on the bottom.”

Still absolutely baffled as to who this woman was or what was going on, you followed her directions and held your visitor badge up to the black square that until now you had just assumed was for decoration. She patiently turned your hand so that it was facing the correct way, and the elevator gave a different tone before it began moving upward.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, but she just shrugged.

“I’m just glad I caught you. I was about to head to lunch, and I doubt one of the editors would even notice someone was wandering around looking for help. And then I’ve got to go have a talk with Wilford, again…” she muttered the last part, pinching the bridge of her nose underneath her glasses and sighing before she seemed to remember someone else was there. “Is this your first time in the studio?”

“Y-yes, it’s been interesting,” you answered, trying to figure out how to tactfully ask who this studio manager was and why they wanted to see you without giving away that you still weren’t sure why your name had been on the visitor list at all. “I’m guessing you’re one of the producers here?”

“That’s right, name’s Kathryn,” she said, sticking out her hand for you to shake just before the elevator doors slid open once again to reveal a large foyer-like area, well decorated with artwork and an expensive-looking rug, even a set of vaguely humanoid shaped statues on either side of the opposite dark oak doors, alongside plants and wide windows to let in the sunlight and show off the rest of the city further below. “He’ll be waiting for you, just go right in. And if you need anything at all after you’re done here, just let me or one of the crew know.”

“Thank you,” you said, stepping out into the foyer and walking as far as the middle of the room before the elevator doors closed behind you. At which point, you were free to panic on your own.

This was bad.

Either whoever was on the other side of those doors thought you were someone else who just happened to share the same name, or they knew exactly who you were and had been expecting you.

It wasn’t hard to guess which one of those was the worse option, or the more likely one considering Wilford’s presence here as well.

You looked over your shoulder at the elevator doors and the curtain-like drapes to either side that you suspected, based on the layout of the floors below, hid the door to the stairwell. Either one would be an easy escape back down to the others.

You took a deep breath, in the process realizing that this room had recently been cleaned, or wasn’t used often enough for you to be able to pick up the scent of anyone else, familiar or not. A shame, considering the view, and you would have liked to have some kind of idea what you were walking into when you forced yourself to walk toward the set of doors on the other side of the room.

Doors which swung open as you approached, seemingly on their own, to reveal an office on the other side possibly larger and more elegant than the foyer that led into it, if you had been in any state of mind to notice.

Instead, your eyes were drawn toward the desk in the center of the room and the man in a well-tailored suit casually leaning against the front of it who smiled at you and said, in an all too familiar voice:

“Hello, Y/N. Long time, no see.”

A snarl escaped your throat as you lunged forward, nails like claws digging into the polished surface of the desk and leaving deep scratches where the man had been just a moment before. Your other senses caught him, and before he could do so much as breathe, you spun around and slammed him up against the wall behind one of the doors, a growl coming from deep within your chest that sounded a lot more like it came from the wolf.

“You.” It barely came out as a word, as you struggled not to change back right here and now and let the wolf take over everything you’d like to do at the moment.

Only because you wanted to get some answers first, and for that you needed to remain in control and stay human for a little longer, at least.

“Me,” he answered, sounding calm for someone who had a half-transformed werewolf at his throat. Dark eyes studied with you interest, and the heartbeat you could feel underneath your hands was calm, steady, if far too slow. “Although I’m not sure we’re thinking of the same person.”

“I know who you are,” you said, your hand pressing tighter against his neck, forcing his chin up to reveal old scars there and under the collar of his shirt. Scars left by Mark, before he tossed aside this body in favor of a new one that hadn’t suffered as much abuse. “Damien. Or am I talking to Celine?”

He smirked. “That’s a…complicated question these days. The process of taking this body took its toll on Celine which she hasn’t quite recovered from yet, and dear Damien, well…there are some things you can’t walk away from without being changed. I’m sure you can relate.”

You growled, already suspecting that you wouldn’t have nearly enough patience to deal with whoever was piloting this corpse at the moment. Did it really even matter, anymore?

“No, these days most people just call me ‘Dark,’ if they even bother to give me a name. I’m just the studio manager, after all.”

“Dark Entertainment Studios. So they think you named this place after yourself,” you said, but the smirk on his face disappeared when you added, “Guess you and Mark have that in common too, then. Markiplier, Markiplier Manor…”

“Do not compare me to him,” “Dark” said, anything like humor or fake friendliness dropping from his tone. “I am nothing like that man.”

You laughed, a bitter sound that was far too close to becoming tears. “Really? After everything you did, you want to pretend you have some kind of moral high ground over Mark?”

Dark didn’t move, but you felt something grab at your arms, your legs, your chest, a cold darkness that spread from somewhere behind you to wrap you in its tight, choking grip.

“You know better than anyone else what he did to us, Y/N. He betrayed us all, turned us against each other for his own amusement and then left us to die while he walked away in my body, all because he couldn’t handle having his heart broken. He manipulated us, used us, and then—”

“So did you!” You strained forward with another snarl, unsure if the way the office around you was fading was because of whatever was holding you back or because you were cutting off your own blood flow trying so hard to break free from it. “How dare you talk about betrayal and lies?! You left me there, trapped to burn and die over and over again in that mirror for years! Decades! I trusted you, Damien, I believed you, I would have done anything to help you and Celine, and you…”

“Needed to pay a price,” Dark answered coolly, no trace of emotion in his eyes or face despite your words. “Power requires a cost, and returning us all to the land of the living, you back to your body and Celine and Damien to this one, to get these broken bodies of ours moving again, all of that does not come cheaply, my friend.”

He paused at the pained growl that came out of you and walked away, a moment later the grip the darkness had on you disappearing as quickly as it started. You turned to find him standing on the other side of his desk, glancing down at the claw marks you left before looking up at you again.

“Celine and Damien became consumed by their desire for revenge, to do whatever it took to destroy Mark, no matter how long it took, no matter what it cost. Thus was born me, ‘Dark.’ Your…beloved detective has paid a similar price, whether or not he realizes it. And you…you spent your time in the mirror, in your cage of silver, and your price was paid that way.” Dark shrugged easily and said, “It’s one reason I made it a little…easier for your magician to find you. Once the time was right.”

“You—what?”

Marvin had been looking for you, ever since he and the others found out about your disappearance. He had told you that, told you how he had even gone to the house before and found nothing, but only now did it click into place.

“You were hiding me from him. You could have let me go at any moment, and instead you kept anyone else from helping me?”

“Because the price—” Dark paused as you lunged forward and vaulted over the desk only for your clawed hands to slash at empty air, before he continued from the other side of the room, “Had to be paid. I’m not your enemy here, Y/N, whatever you may be thinking right now.”

“You stole my life from me!”

“After you lost it,” Dark answered, again moving out of your reach in the blink of an eye. It was the same way Jackie moved sometimes, when he would show up out of nowhere or disappear just as quickly to go out and do his vigilante work. Whatever Damien and Celine had become, you could smell the entity’s influence still at work here. “After Mark set you up to die, over and over again in his little game. The cards, the silver bullets, in every way he stacked the deck against you. Not that you were the only one; if it were up to him, he would have been the only one to walk out of that house alive.”

“…He was the only one who came back, after you left,” you said, carefully watching Dark for his reaction. “He offered to help me get out of the mirror.”

Dark’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment his form became hazy, as though the darkness was back again and swirling around him with flashes of gray and silver like static. “I’m sure he did. You would make the perfect pet then, being bound to pay back your debt to him. A tempting idea—”

Dark again disappeared and reappeared, but this time you were ready, and it was only the darkness that followed him that held you back as he smirked and continued, “But it does seem like you’re lacking the training someone like him would prefer.”

Mark’s last words came back to you, not that they had ever left you for long since that short conversation.

“I’ll come back around, once you’ve learned how to heel.”

Dark, studying your face closely, saw the flicker in your eyes, the sting of memory, and he took a step closer to you as he said, “I could have been the one to free you from the mirror. I could have brought you back here, nursed you back to health, left you dependent on me for every meal, for every breath of fresh air and whisper of sunlight until you realized that I was the only one you could ever really trust to come back for you. I could have made you mine, no matter how long it took.”

He was closer now, and a hand went to the side of your face, just close enough to leave a trace of warmth without touching you (or being within biting range).

“But what did I do instead? I led your friends to you. I watched from a distance as you gathered your strength, as you readjusted to the world. I used Google to leave a trail for you, away from that pointless detour you were going down to Wilford, to here, so that you could come on your own terms, and meet me face to face,” Dark said. “All because I think, with enough time, you’ll understand. That you can be reasoned with, that you’re not some wild animal that needs to be caged until you’re tamed. Believe me when I say that Mark would not have exchanged the same courtesy, if he had been able to get to you.”

You lunged backward, either breaking the grip the shadow had on you or being let go to keep your distance from Dark, even though you knew this room wasn’t nearly big enough to give you all the distance you wanted right now. “And what, you expect me to be grateful? Like the fact that you had a chance to be even worse and didn’t take it somehow undoes everything else you’ve done?”

You paced back and forth along the side wall of the office, oblivious to the window and view as you passed, to the paintings and the fake plant in the corner because nothing living could survive in this room with him and whatever it was that surrounded him, that toxic air that tore at the back of your mind and, for a moment, made you feel like you were back in the house, back to pacing the floor of a hollow reflection, where your body wanted nothing more than to change to the wolf and the safety and security that form provided.

Your fists clenched, forcing the claws to turn back to fingernails, as you continued, “You trapped me there, left me to suffer, you—I—and for what?! So you could become some TV executive?!”

Level with his desk now, it was an easy swipe of your arm that sent papers flying and his computer monitor crashing to the ground. He did nothing to stop you, and did not even flinch as the coffee mug went sailing by his head, an inch or two off thanks to your still recovering eyesight.

“If you’re done,” Dark started, only to pause as the stapler almost nicked his ear. Your aim was getting better. “Of course, the first thing I did once I left the house was track down Mark, which proved more…difficult, than I imagined it would be. He had been with the entity in that house for so long, had learned so much from it, while I was still a patchwork of broken souls bound together by spite and revenge. He nearly killed me, assuming I can even die anymore.”

His expression changed, the disgust evident in his eyes and the turn of his mouth, or as much as you could see them through the thickening haze around him. “But he let me live. Said every ‘hero’ needed a ‘villain’, and he had such great plans for us and this city.”

He spat out the words, and for a moment you thought you saw not one but two men standing there screaming before the haze around him settled back into one form. “If you thought the little game he had us play back at the party was bad, then you cannot begin to imagine what has followed since then, even if it started off small. Our deaths on the front page of every paper must have ruined any hope he had of slinking his way back into society even with a new face, and we both had to be careful not to attract any unwanted attention.”

“So, the first ‘game’ was how to regain power, how to manipulate from the shadows. He chose his pawns, and I chose a medium that I saw some potential in,” Dark smirked and added, “Mostly in the potential it had to hurt the former actor’s ego, I will admit, but still, it has turned out far better than I could have ever expected. First TV, then all the opportunities a more connected world provided with such a willing and eager audience.”

“Why?” you asked, trying to ignore the prickle under your skin that suggested fur trying to grow out. “What’s the point of all of this?”

“We can tear each other apart all we want, but we’ve both grown stronger over the years and the casualties for everyone around us would be…significant, if that happened. Like destroying all of the chess pieces until there’s not even a board left to play on. So instead, we find other outlets to gain an advantage over the other. Mark would say that it’s a fight for the soul of this city, but then he was always the one for delusions of heroism,” Dark said with a roll of his eyes. “This city isn’t the one you remember, but you’ve probably already realized that. Technology, progress, all of that. And monsters, allowed to live out in the open! Assuming they’re the right kind of monster, of course, as long as they can be tamed and fit within his precious view of what is right and good.”

“Meanwhile, I’ve been more than welcoming to our…less than conventional employees here. Under my protection, they have nothing to fear from the Bronson Institute. Bim Trimmer would be a stuffed curiosity if Mark had his way, but here he can be in front of the camera, in the homes and on the phones of millions, to become comfortable to them. He used to be nothing more than a glorified gate guardian, and now people come to the studio to have selfies taken with him and to get his autograph. And the same goes for every other nonhuman that appears on his shows.”

Dark stepped closer and you immediately took a step back, but he merely bent down to pick up a knickknack that had been knocked to the floor during your sweeping off of the desk. It was a metal recreation of the studio’s logo, a silhouette of the city skyline with D.E. Studios engraved into it with a cursive script, and weighty enough that if you had been thinking clearly you would have tried to hurl it at his face before knocking it to the ground.

“Influence what people see, what they’re exposed to, and you influence what they think. There’s a power in that, and I think that I have used mine well, don’t you?” Dark asked.

You bit back your instinctive response to that, very aware that Dark was trying to do just that right now. Control what he told you, paint a picture that portrayed him as the suffering hero here and influence what you thought. Instead, you asked, “Is that why you brought Wilford here? To protect him? But if so, why wait until now?”

“When has Wilford ever needed my protection? His mind isn’t what it used to be, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but he still has that same astonishing ability to survive whatever comes his way. No...” Dark frowned down at the studio logo, turning it over in his hands as though searching for something on its surface, before he looked back up at you.

“These games, they’re not just about the ‘fate of the city’ or whatever you want to call it. Mark wants power, but more than that, he wants to make everyone who hurt him suffer as much as he thinks he suffered. And I’ll admit that at least for me, the feeling is mutual. The same night you broke free from the mirror, Wilford was playing what would be his last show at that disco, and a certain hunter was on his way back to the city. Do you really think that was a coincidence? A new game has started, and Mark and I have already chosen our players.”

You stared at him as this information sank in. Wilford was here, under Dark’s protection, which meant that he must have “chosen” him. And there was only one person Mark would choose if that was the case, only one person who had been searching after the Colonel all this time already, who Dark had already said was just as consumed by revenge as the man you once thought you knew. It would be so easy to push him in the right direction and watch him go.

“And how do these games of yours end?” you asked, your mouth so dry that you could barely get the words out.

Dark raised an eyebrow at that, his expression saying that you both already knew the answer to that.

Among the remains of everything that had once been on his desk, there was a low buzz before Google’s voice came from the surprisingly still functioning black glass orb that was cracked down the middle.

“Sir, there is an issue that requires your permission for maximum response.”

Dark sighed and nudged the device with the toe of his shoe, causing the surface of it to change and become a lighter shade of gray. Perhaps it was lighting up with some color, but you couldn’t be sure and it didn’t seem to matter much when it began to flicker and stutter.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume the answer is no, but explain.”

Google’s voice was distorted when he spoke through the device again, glitching and stuttering as he said, “Your-your response is-is-is unclear, Sir. There appears to be an err-err-error in the—”

There was a garble of noise before his voice came through again, “Unauthorized intruders in the-in the-in the—one matching record on fi-i-i-ile, Abe—”

Another garble of static, and when Dark attempted to prod the device again, it responded by neatly splitting in half along the crack as the glow within died completely.

“I paid a lot for that,” Dark remarked, sounding surprisingly calm despite this latest revelation. “A direct line to that Google unit, among other things.”

“You mean you can’t get him back?” you asked. “What’s he going to do to Abe?”

“Well, without directions from an authorized source, he will have to resort to his programming. Or at least, how he chooses to interpret it in this situation.” Dark shrugged and said, “He generally tends to prefer the lethal options. A bit of a problem that his creator couldn’t be bothered to work out in the first run of development, I suspect.”

“Then tell him to stop,” you growled, stepping up to Dark only for him to stare you down.

“And how, exactly, am I to do that? You destroyed the device, and as I don’t know where in the building they are, calling around isn’t likely to be helpful. And of course, you make the mistake of assuming that I care.” Dark didn’t flinch as you grabbed him again, and there was no attempt by his shadow to defend himself as he continued, “I’m not stopping you from doing whatever you want, Y/N, but I’m not about to do anything for that man. You can run and find your precious hunter, but I think in the long run you will wish you had stayed here and let Google do his job. A hunter is a hunter, after all, and you…”

He cast his eyes down before meeting yours again, and you became painfully aware of your current state. You could feel the shape of your teeth that did not belong in this mouth, the fur still itching to show itself, the claws digging into the palms of your hands. All it would take was a single push, and you would change entirely with no guarantee of how long it would take to change back, assuming you even could.

But you couldn’t let this happen, either.

“This game is over,” you snarled into his face, promising yourself that this wasn’t going to end here, that you would make sure Dark and Mark both paid for what they had done.

Until then though, you had more important things to worry about, starting with finding Abe before Google found him, or before he found Wilford.

Dark watched you run out of the office and tear back the curtains hiding the door to the stairs in the foyer before disappearing from sight. He smiled to himself and leaned back against his desk, oblivious to the mess around his feet. His fingers, however, found the deep marks you had left behind on the otherwise smooth, dark surface. So much anger, so much fear, and so much confusion.

It was almost too easy.

((End of Part 23. Thanks for reading! Fun fact, in the first ideas for this story, it was Actor Mark who was running the studio, but I feel like Dark being here fits better. Plus, more of a Markiplier TV feel that way. I also had Dark casually admitting that sometimes there’s the occasional “accident” involving audience members or contestants, before I remembered that he’s supposedly trying to get Y/N on his side. XD

The next part is the one that I wanted to get to before I started posting again, which is why there might be another delay after tomorrow. I’ll talk more about that in the notes section of that part.

Link to Part 24: Three Shots Fired.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm district attorney #wilford warfstache #darkiplier #googleplier #today the da chose violence #tomorrow?

[manychocolatefactories]

CatCF Ruby Chocolate: Part 1, Kids and characters

This version is the last of the "four main versions". It is named after the new, fourth type of chocolate discovered in 2004 but only publically released in 2017. It is a modern version, supposed to take place in the 2010s. In this version, there are six Golden Tickets released in the world.

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on: Augustus Gloop)

This version of Augustus was inspired by the 2013 musical, more specifically by the idea of a cute little boy that eats "pigs limbs from limbs", and also swallows whole little dogs. So, something quite dark.

Augustus has a very cute face. A chubby, angelic face, like the puttis of the Renaissance paintings: blond curls, puppy eyes, a radiant smile. If he wants, he can make your heart melt like the video of a little kitten purring.

But Augustus is hungry. All of the time. He eats and snacks all day long. He dreams of food. He sleep-walks to eat. And while he adores candies and chocolate, there is one thing he loves more than anything else: meat. Meat and blood. He is a true carnivore, for him every meal rhymes with "meat". And if you leave him unattended, he will try to get meat by himself. For exemple, by attacking a living pig and devouring it on the spot. Or by biting off the fingers of a plump woman. But, of course, all of that with a cute smile and while saying sorry in the most adorable way.

Nowadays, if your cute you must be innocent, and thus forgien.

Augustus' body is not as cute as his face. It is said to be a "bloated mass of pink flesh", actually very similar to the body of a pig. His fatness is described as "ill-fitting", as if it was "forced" onto his body. His overweightness is not natural. It is puffy, flabby, bloated, but doesn't feel "natural".

Augustus also always wear ill-fitting clothes and suits.

Mrs. Gloop is a tiny woman, usually wearing a pale pink skirt suit, with her hair arranged in a crown of braids. She might be tiny, but she is bold, energetic, and speaks both clearly and loudly. She has so much presence, she often intimidates people. She keeps reminding others of how cute her son, and how eating makes him grow strong. She insists that she is a good mother who makes sure her son eats of everything (to have a balanced diet), eats well (by giving him only the finest and best-quality products (such as the Wonka bars and not their cheap rivals knock-offs), and of course, she only feeds her son because he "needs nourishment".

And don't dare criticize her, or she will scream so much, so hard and so high your ears will bleed. Just like the "original" Mrs. Gloop, this one keeps pointing out the "hooligans", saying it is better to stay at home eating food than being a violent thug on the street. My iteration sincerely believes that violence and criminality is due to poverty, hunger and lack of food, and if everyone was well-fed the world ould be at peace.

(For her, think of Mrs. Gloop the original, mixed with Bernadette from the Big Bang Theory )

Mr. Gloop (full name, Gordon Gloop, parody of Gordon Ramsey) is the son of a butcher, and the grandson of a slaughterhouse worker. He was always knee-deep in blood, and as a result grew accustomed to killing animals and cooking them (in fact the sight of blood makes him peckish). He is a tall and strong man, but suffers from a bad sleep due to his wife's horribly loud snoring.

He tried to teach his son the refinment of haute cuisine, for Mr. Gloop is a world-renowned cook, but to his disappointment Augustus only cares for raw meat and drinking blood-dipped candies. Mr. Gloop is so obsessed with having good dishes and best-quality ingredients, he keeps at the back of his house a little barnyard full of cattle (if he ever has to serve some steak or ribs to his guests). Trouble is, Augustus keeps sneaking into said barnyard to devour the poor animals.

Second Winner: Elvira Entwhistle

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

Veruca Salt being a pretty solid and complete archetype in herself (the girl who wants it all and has her parents buy her all), it is quite hard to reimagine her. So, I tried thinking about "why" she wants things - given the actions are settled and confirmed, it is the goals that are important, the motivation. And , in our time of modernity, what makes people want things? Trends, fashions, what is "in".

This reinterpretation of Veruca, named Elvira Entwhistle (after one of the old drafts names), is a mix between Chanel Oberlin from Scream Queens and Esmé Squalor from a Series of Unfortunate Events. She is a girl living for trends, for fashions, buying and acquiring all of the latest things "in", only to discard them as soon as they are "out" or not trendy anymore. Spending her time on social media, following models and influencers, she keeps going to luxury shops with her "personal assistant" (a nice name for what is a modern slave) to buy accessories, jewels, clothes, pets and whatever corresponds to the current trend.

Spoiled, impatient, self-centered and short-tempered, she needs to have the latest fashion NOW or she will get insanely angry. She also doesn't hesitate to change her personal appearance to fit all the new trends (for exemple her hair changes color and shape every week). Of course, she got her Golden Ticket because it was the current trend. Everyone was searching for it, so she had to get a Ticket to be the most "in" person around.

 Third Winner: Mike Teavee

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

For this version of Mike Teavee, I wanted to get away from the usual hyperactive and hyper-violent kid. I wanted to take back this common idea that television makes you stupid and sluggish, by making Mike the perfect embodiment of a couch potato (even though he was designed to look at the same time like a mushroom and a zombie).

Mr. and Mrs. Teavee are hard-working people, who spend their entire week working and only come back at home for very brief periods of times (usually in the week-end) before going right back at work. As a result, Mike barely knows his parents. He doesn't even know what kind of work they do. To "babysit" their son, the Teavees bought an enormous, high-definition television with a 666 channels pack, and kept telling him to not go outside due to the outside world being "dangerous" and filled with crushing bikes, killing cars, kidnappers and the like. This is how Mike began his life as a shut-in.

Spending his days looking at the television, never going outside, he ended up closing all shutters because light bothered him. Living in the dark, barely lifting his body from the couch, he only survives on candies, snacks, television-plates and microwaved/defrosted food (and the Teavee family can afford to buy a lot of it, because they are really, really rich - Mike has accounts in three different banks).

The result? A chalk-white boy. A bloated ans shapeless body. A full-moon face covered in craters and scars due to a bad case of acne. Two dead, sunken, small eyes. Speakin slowly, and often pronouncing only half of the words, Mike refuses to answer or talk to anyone while television is on : he only speaks during "uninteresting advertisements". The only thing muscular in his body are his fingers, that got a lot of muscle mass due to twitching frenetically all day long on the remote to channel-hop.

Mike is actually a very intelligent boy, but all his cleverness and intellectual gifts are buried and wasted by the brain-washing of his shut-in life and his television obsession. He got his Golden Ticket because his parents often buy him Wonka bars as "television snacks". Even though, in his own words, he prefers food that "tastes like plastic".

Fourth Winner: Violet Beauregarde

(Based on: Volet Beauregarde)

What is Violet, originally? She is a girl that seeks fame and attention, that is snarky, that is nasty towards people, and that does stupid records. What reflects that perfectly in our day and age? Reality television shows!

Violet Beauregarde was strongly inspired by the most brainless and "sassy/nasty" stars of reality television and the Internet. She is a teenage girl wearing clothes of such bright, flashy and clashing colors it often hurts people's eyes. Her face is covered in makeup, her hair is covered in extensions and her hands are covered with fake fingernails.

She thinks she can be as rude and horrible as she wants, as long as she calls it "sassy". But on the other side, she considers "rude" anyone or anything that doesn't please her, or that is too "ugly" or "dirty" for her. She is the kind of girl that keeps screaming loudly "YAAAAAAASSS, bitches!" and "DAAAMMMNNNN", that calls herself "the queen", that chews ferociously on her gum all day long, and that says "Why are you touching me? See, you're touching me again!" while she is the one hitting people. She hates everything "old" and "boring". She keeps publishing musical albums that nobody actually buys, because she sings badly mere words (her singles being titled "Lalalala" and "Heyheyheyhey" - she never understood a song needed to have lyrics). Finally, her biggest dream is to be part of a TV-reality show.

Her father, Mr. Beauregarde, feeds his daughter's "bitchy diva" attitude and her delusions of grandeur by acting as his agent (just like in the 2013 musical). He is also the "ringleader" of Violet's circus (because Violet, with her clothes of ridiculous colors, and her enormous amount of makeup, has a clown subtext). As a result, Mr. Beauregarde is like a ringleader in acircus, a showrunner in a freak show, and also an agent. He "sells" his daughter, he organizes her interviews, he has people pay money for "extra time" with Violet, he shows her around, and finally he uses his whip (yes, he has a whip) to attack all those that try to "touch the product".

He is a short, flabby and balding man, that smokes very long and thick cigars, wears enormous rings and clothes that are garrish and clownish - his over-the-top and ridiculous fashion sense is clearly a compensation for what he lacks in height, hair and health.

 Fifth Winner: Marvin Prune

(Based on: Marvin Prune)

In the original drafts of Roald Dahl, Marvin Prune was a Mr. Know-it-All, a too-perfect schoolboy obsessed with studies, an arrogant bookworm, a haughty teacher's pet, you named it. In this version, i decided to keep the idea of Marvin being a "know-it-all", but instead of using school, books and the like, he rather uses modern technology and the Internet.

Marvin is a tech-obsessed boy. He lives for, with and through technology, to the point of neglecting to live in the real world. He thinks his over-use of technology, and all the knowledge it can provide him, make him an "intelligent" and "superior" boy (when in fact it does not).

He thinks he can claim to have been everywhere in the world because he visited virtually all the most important landmarks of the world. He claims he can speak all the languages in the world, but in fact he uses translation websites. He keeps tracks of all his bodily functions thanks to health monitors (heartbeats, blood pressure, cholesterole...) but not because he is concerned for his health, merely for the sake of knowing more things. For him, Googling something is the best solution to all your troubles, and as a result he is a self-centered and pompous boy.  

Due to his technology dependance, Marvin is actually quite a weak boy. Since he doesn't do any sport or physical activity, and since he rarely leaves his house (due to always ordering things online, having classes online and visiting places virtually), he is a quite thin and frail boy, if not emaciated - at least, a good chunk of his muscle mass has melted away.

The original parents of Marvin Prune were, in Dahl's works, teachers and school principals. I decided here to go with the opposite of a teacher : Mrs. Prune never does anything herself, and always blame it on others. There are problems in the world? For her people should fix it, but they are too lazy to do it - while she herself does nothing about it. Her son acts rude? "Someone should teach him good manners" she says. She loses all of her money? "That's because the people in charge of the economy are all incompetent!"

Mrs. Prune thinks of everything and everyone as stupid because it allows her to blame all of her problems and flaws on other people. But ultimately she never takes any kind of action herself. If someone should teach her son good manners, it is "those lazy teachers at school", certainly not her! She also dislikes things that are "foreign".

Marvin found the Golden Ticket when he ordered by mistake a chocolate bar in France : in truth, he wanted to buy a "tablet" (in French a tablet is tablette, and a chocolate bar is also a tablette de chocolat).

Marvin will also be incredibly frustrated inside Wonka's factory, because in there numeric devices mess up, stop weirdly or disfunction totally (the same way UFOs tend to mess up phones, radios, computers and the like). As a result, he becomes powerless and helpless.

 Sixth Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charkie Bucket)

Here, I decided to really twist things up. To have a Charlie Bucket that isn't thin or malnourished, but fat! Yes, here's Chubby Charlie! (No, not Fat Charlie, this one is copyrighted)

Charlie's story is deeply linked to the story of the Wonka factory. The town Charlie lives in was built around the Wonka Factory a bit before the 20th century - it was a "worker town", created to allow the workers of the factory to live with their family next to their place of work. For more than fifty years the Factory was the only occupation and work of the town. But somewhere in the 1950s or 1960s, all the workers had to take an early retirement. They were kicked out, and the Factory closed to the public. The Factory was still working, but not hiring anyone anymore. This was an enormous blow to both the town's economy and moral. There was an economic crisis and poverty (since people were trained only to work in a candy factory).

But there was one good thing: since it was the town Wonka's products were created in, they were sold at must cheaper prices than anywhere else in the world, and all the ex-workers of the Factory got in exchange for their work coupons and reductions for themselves and all of their families - reductions on the Wonka products, of course. This was seen as a chance, because the Wonka products were world-renowned candies, even luxury goods in foreign countries. It was like being able to buy haute-couture as daily clothes and eat gastronomic cuisine every week-end.

But this good wasn't so "good". Indeed, given the poverty and lack of job in town, the ex-workers and their family relied more and more on the coupons and reductions, their diets filled with candy and sugary products. As a result, from the 1970s to the 2010s, the number of people suffering from obesity, diabetes and teeth problems blew up.

[ This background is actually a mix of two different real-world fact. Real-world fact 1: the Menier Chocolate Factory in France, aka the real-life Wonka Factory, was revolutionary for creating a town for its workers, and taking care of their health, education and the like, but closed after World War II, to the deception of everyone. Real-world fact 2: Coca-Cola, Nestlé and other big food industries tend to pay their employees with extra-sugary and extra-addictive if their own products in poor areas, such as South America - resulting in sicknesses and diseases.]

As a result, in this version Charlie is fat. Because in modern days, and in developped countries, poverty and malnourishment actually leads to obesity and diabetes, due to the cheapest food being candies and junk-food.

This version of Charlie is a very nice kid, but a kid addicted to the Wonka products. He grew up on the coupons, due to his family all being ex-workers. Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George both worked at the factory, but were too old or sick after being fired to find a new job ; Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had been trained for the factory and could barely afford new studies after its closing. Mr. Bucket became a street cleaner, while Mrs. Bucket became a receptionist and secretary for a dental office (due to the rise of tooth diseases, dental offices boomed in town, but most are actually crooked or scams).

Charlie grew up in a very humble home, with two parents working really hard to have enough money to buy food for everyone. Of course, fresh or good food is too expensive. Charlie tries to help his family the best way he can with his part-time job (making people fill surveys) and by working really hard at school. But as the years go by, his weight and his health are beginning to cause problems. Due to not having any money he can't do sports, wich makes him gain weight, and the fattest he is the hardest it is to do sport, it's a vicious circle. Every year, the scale reveals he puts on more and more weight, and faster and faster - if he doesn't do something quick, he may end up obese.

And, as I mentionned before, Charlie is truly obsessed with the Wonka products, it is an addiction. He dreams of them at night. He sticks Wonka bars wrappers on the wall of his room like posters. He drools at the mere mention of a Wonka bar. He isn't spoiled, cruel or nasty, but he is too addicted for his own good. In fact, when he finds money in the stret and buy chocolate bars with it, it is a pure act of selfishness, because he doesn't have the willpower to turn away from the candy shop and go back home.

#catcf #charlie and the chocolate factory #charlie bucket #augustus gloop #veruca salt #mike teavee #violet beauregarde #marvin prune

[kclenhartnovels]

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades, Larocque’s Introduction

As I’m finally getting some actual words done on the project, here’s a fun sneak peak into the early chapter, and Harding’s first interaction with Larocque. I feel like I’m finally finding the narrative voice, and I may be having too much fun with descriptions.

===========================

"Agent John Harding, Sr.?"

The use of his full name startled Harding out of his focus, and he jerked up so suddenly he sent half a dozen papers fluttering to the ground. They hadn't been in much order to begin with, emptied from the file box and strewn across his desk and the floor with a few of his own notes scribbled on post-its on top of them, still trying to make sense of the flood of information. He had expected some other lackey suit to be standing in the door to his office, perhaps holding another full box or checking in on his progress as they had been doing for the past couple days, but instead was someone he had never seen before. And he didn't look like a paper pusher, or a field agent. Instead of a suit, he wore a long white lab coat, immaculately pressed and clean. He had the long, narrow look of someone who had at one point been a normal proportion, but then had been squeezed and pulled too tightly through some sort of unforgiving machine. His high cheekbones angled too sharply against the line of his jaw, leaving hollows that might have been called dimples if they didn't look so severely cut. Dark blond hair curled loosely across his temples, and seemed the only thing about him not pressed and stretched into a cultivated, regimented perfection. Harding got the distinct impression that he was some sort of lizard that had decided to wear a human-suit, but had no idea how to make it properly fitted. If he saw a forked tongue, Harding was going to carve a window into the wall behind him and jump through it.

"Yes, sir," he answered instead. "That's me. Can I help you?"

The reptile in the doorway smiled, at least much in the same way a snake smiled while sizing up a cornered mouse. It was less of a gesture of goodwill, and more a yawn of fangs in preparation to swallow someone whole. "My name is Dr. Henri Larocque. I have the results of your bloodwork."

"Ah." When Larocque didn't continue right away, Harding felt compelled to speak. "Is this like looking up symptoms on the Internet? Do I have brain cancer?"

The doctor's smile widened marginally, enough to finally wrinkle the hollows of his pitted cheeks. "Quite the contrary. Won't you follow me?"

"Why do I feel like I don't have a choice in the matter?" Harding picked up a few of the papers that had fallen, returned them to the piles where (he thought) they came from, and gingerly stepped around the rest. Standing beside Larocque, he was even more acutely aware that his own suit was rumpled, his tie was loosely done, and he hadn't really slept in a day or so. He felt rather like a stray dog beside a freshly-groomed Westminster poodle.

"You always have a choice, John."

Harding flinched. No one called each other by first names here, and he wasn't sure if it felt too familial, or too mocking when the doctor said it. It was just weird. Everything about the doctor spoke something of the other, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of Lovecraftian beast lurking under the skin, rather than a simple razor-toothed lizard. "Yeah, it sounds like it. You sure I don't have brain cancer?"

Larocque led him down the hallway, past the series of windowless offices where other paper-pushers like him worked, past the open cubicles of other agents. RJ saw them pass by, and she stood to exchange a glance with him. He offered her a shrug, and gestured vaguely towards the white coat in front of him, before spinning one finger beside his temple in a gesture of insanity. When she looked genuinely alarmed, a tightness formed in his stomach. Did she know something he didn't?

The doctor pushed open a door at the end of the hall, and gestured Harding into the same small clinic room where the nurse had drawn his blood almost two weeks ago. "Please, have a seat."

The only place to sit was on the hard metal table, covered with a sheet of sterile paper, and Harding felt like a child waiting for a round of vaccinations when he hopped up onto it. The paper crinkled under his hands. The sound settled around the knot in his stomach, adding an acidity that made his teeth ache, as if he had just heard nails scraping against chalkboard for the past two hours. "So," he began lamely, "what's this about? They never said what the blood draw was for."

Larocque drew the shades on the door's window, giving them as much privacy as could be expected. Harding half waited for him to pull out a butcher's knife and begin painting the white walls with chunks of his flesh. But instead, the doctor moved in front of him, and tapped his tapered fingers against a clipboard. "How much do you know about the human genome, John?"

His teeth ached, and he realized he had been gritting them. "It's Agent Harding."

The doctor smiled thinly. "Answer the question, please."

What the fuck was he supposed to say? "I'm not a biologist. I studied French and political science. I know they finished the human genome project recently. It was all over the news." Larocque nodded, and seemed to be waiting for him to go on. He felt a frustrated sigh hiss past his clenched teeth. A headache began to throb in his temple. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten anything that morning aside from three cups of coffee and half a bagel that he had mostly neglected after he found mold in the cream cheese. "I don't know. DNA makes us who we are?"

"That is correct." He sounded like a teacher, praising an especially thick student for finally answering a simple question, while the rest of the class snickered and flicked spitballs at them. "And we have mapped your genetic code. This is a brave new world we are entering, and you and I are to be on the forefront of this new science. You see, your DNA is holding something extraordinary."

"Not brain cancer, then?"

Larocque's impeccable human suit flickered with irritation. His nostrils flared, and a hint of color finally touched the hollows of his face. "I am certain that you are aware of the rumors of humans with powers beyond the norm? Those that can produce elements with the powers of their mind, or move at speeds and strengths thought impossible?"

"I read comic books," Harding agreed.

"This is not colorful fiction any longer, John. We may have the power to unlock and strengthen these abilities, now that we know the genetic markers that indicate a predilection towards them." He tapped the clipboard again, and his taunt body leaned forward some. "And the markers on yours are incredibly rare. Tell me, how often do you get sick?"

"Get sick?" he repeated, feeling a fresh pulse in his headache when Larocque called him by his first name again.

"Yes, how often do you contract an illness?"

The question gave him pause. "I don't know. I guess--as often as anyone."

"Specifically, when was the last time you were ill?"

"I don't know." He had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing. Professionalism had been his feedback when he was accepted into the program. He had really wanted to tell them then that they could go fuck themselves. Translators weren't in the public eye anyway. But he needed this job. He just didn't need this reptile probing him with weird questions. Fuck, when was the last time he had been sick? He could remember looking after Karen when she got colds, when she got the flu last year, and she had scolded him for kissing her, because what if he got sick next? The only thing he could remember-- "Food poisoning," he said at last. "Uh, senior year of college. Four buddies and me went to a bad choice of restaurant. They all ended up in the hospital."

"And you?" Larocque pressed.

He shrugged. "I was cradling the toilet for eight hours or so. It was miserable."

"Only eight hours for food poisoning, when all your friends were in the hospital for--how long?"

His shrug came stiffer. It hurt his shoulders to make the gesture. His stomach tightened again, knotting in on itself like a low throb of warning. "I don't really remember. They got their stomachs pumped and they were dehydrated so--a day? Two?" He could taste the lie. One of his friends had nearly died, and was there for a week. The other two spent four days wretched and pale. They had sued the restaurant and won enough money that the one who had treaded the veil decided he didn't need to find a job, and bought a house instead. Harding hadn't been a part of all that. He had never even told a doctor that he had been ill. It hadn't seemed to do any harm.

Larocque made a note on his clipboard. "And that was how long ago now? Four, five years?" he guessed.

Harding felt his shoulders jerk in another harsh shrug. It felt as if his muscles were trying to tear themselves free of the bone.

"And before that? Or since then? Any allergies?"

"Nope. Not that I've found yet. Why? Do you think I'm some sort of superhuman cockroach or something?"

"Precisely that."

Harding opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue was dry, and he snapped his teeth shut again. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

"What about injuries?" the doctor went on. "Any broken bones?"

"I broke my arm when I was a kid. I got a papercut this morning." He held up his hand to show the mark on his finger, but the line was so thin it was nearly invisible, and the skin was barely torn. He had a hard time finding where it had happened to begin with. "Fuck, I was in a car accident two years ago and had a concussion. Ripped my head open on the steering wheel." He tilted his head slightly, running his fingers along a scar just at his hairline, faded and smooth. "I'm not a man of steel or anyth--can you back up?"

But Larocque had closed the distance between them, and took Harding's head between his thin hands. His fingers were cold. Harding tried to pull back, but he was held like a vice, and the doctor inspected the scar with such intensity that he had to wonder if the reptile also possessed laser vision or something.

"Fascinating," the doctor breathed at last. "A scar this healed would take decades for a normal individual. You had stitches on this wound, yes?"

"Twelve staples."

"Incredible. The marks have completely vanished. If your body already possesses this sort of accelerated healing, then it should only grow stronger once we begin the treatment."

Harding finally jerked himself free of Larocque's probing hands, and all-but fell off the metal table to get away from him. "The fuck do you mean, treatment?"

"I have your paperwork to sign first, of course. We will need your informed consent to begin." Larocque's dark eyes were glittering, and he had the giddy appearance of a schoolboy that had found a particularly large worm on the playground, and couldn't wait to pull it apart to watch both ends wiggle bloody death throes. "I'll have it all sent to your desk. I suggest you finish your current project quickly. We start treatments on Monday."

Tag list:

@fatal-blow​  @gingerly-writing​ @rrrawrf-writes​ @pied-piper-of-hamlet​ @inkstarlight​ 

As always, let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#excerpt #writeblr #horseshoes and hand grenades #harding #larocque #hippocrates #honestly this book is going to be so much fun just because it's very much harding's voice #and he's so snarky #and so weird #i love him #he's so YOUNG here

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘20 - Week Two: Secret

Okay so I won’t be doing all four Stanuary prompts this year.  I couldn’t think of something for the last prompt.  But I had a pretty good idea for this prompt and I wanted to use it, so, ten days after January ended, here it is.  My ficlet for the “Secret” prompt.  This prompt takes place in my Angiewolf AU, which, like many of my AUs, is rather developed and has some complexity to it.  But all you need to know to read this ficlet is that it’s an AU where Stan is a werewolf.

...And also Stan has a wife and kids and they are also werewolves.  Enjoy.

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              “Soos!”  Soos looked up from the taxidermy gorilla he was currently brushing.  “Get your butt in here!”  Soos promptly dropped the hairbrush and sprinted for the gift shop.  When he arrived, panting, Stan was by the cash register, glaring at a pile of coins Soos had forgotten to put away from the last sale.

              “What is it, Mr. Pines?”

              “Why didn’t you put these in the register?” Stan demanded, gesturing angrily. The tips of his fingers were bright red and blistered, like they’d been burned.

              “Sorry, Mr. Pines, I forgot.”

              “Well, get it done with.  I can’t handle coins from before 1964,” Stan grumbled.  Soos made his way over to the register.  As he picked up the coins, he could see that the year they were made was indeed prior to 1964.

              “Why not?” Soos asked curiously.

              “None of your beeswax, that’s why,” Stan muttered darkly.  He stormed off.  Soos rested his elbows on the counter, frowning thoughtfully.

              Is Mr. Pines allergic to something?  Something in coins before 1964?  I don’t want to expose him to something and hurt him if he is.  Soos’ eyes wandered around the room, eventually landing on a book on coin collecting, resting on a shelf nearby.  Well, that’s pretty lucky!  He walked over to the shelf, picked up the book, and blew the dust off.  1964. What’s special about that year? It took some doing, but he managed to find a paragraph on coin composition.

              “Silver-colored American coins were 90% silver until 1964,” he read out loud. His eyes widened.

              Is Mr. Pines allergic to silver?  Now that I think about it, have I ever seen him touch silver before?  He has watches and necklaces, but those are all gold.  Stan stalked into the gift shop again.

              “Did you put away those coins?” Stan asked, his arms crossed and foot tapping. Soos put the book back on the shelf.

              “Yes, sir!”

              “Good.”

              “Mr. Pines, are you allergic to silver?” Soos asked.  Stan froze.  He eyed Soos, but didn’t say anything.  “Coins before 1964 were made of-”

              “Yeah, silver, I know.”  Stan looked away.  Soos could hear him grinding his teeth from where he was standing.  “Fine.  Yeah. I’m allergic to silver.  Don’t tell anyone, though.  I can’t let anyone know I’ve got a weakness.”

              “You can count on me to keep a secret, sir!” Soos said solemnly, doing a salute.  Stan grunted. “But, I mean, silver’s a pretty weird allergy.  It’s almost- it’s almost like you’re a werewolf.”  Soos laughed at his own joke.  Stan was silent.  “…Mr. Pines?”

              “Keep manning the register, kid.  I’ve gotta go do…something.”  Stan went outside, slamming the door closed behind him.  Soos rubbed his chin.

              Something’s fishy here.  But what?

----- 

              Soos silently approached the Mystery Shack, utilizing all his powers of stealth, sticking to the treeline.  After that day, when he’d found out Stan was apparently allergic to silver, he’d begun to notice other odd things.  Some of Stan’s kids were in town for the summer, since they were still in college, and they helped out at the Mystery Shack.  Soos had known them for years; some of them were even helping him figure out college applications.  But he’d never realized before how much they behaved like wild animals.

              Not that Stan didn’t also behave like a wild animal at times.  Soos couldn’t count how many times Stan would suddenly freeze and sniff the air, or spin around to stare at a door right before it opened.  But while he was paying attention, Soos realized Stan and his family did more than just that.

              The growling…  Soos had heard of people growling in frustration, but he almost went outside to look for a stray dog before he realized the low growl he was hearing came from one of Stan’s younger children, Emily.  At one point, he could’ve sworn she actually barked.  Add onto that how much meat Stan’s family ate (Stan’s wife kept inviting Soos over for meals) and the way they all were eerily strong, even those who were slender like Stan’s wife, and Soos couldn’t dismiss the thought. The thought that had started as a throwaway joke to try to impress Stan.

              Well, it’s a full moon now, so if he’s really a werewolf, this is the time to check.  Soos knew that Stan technically lived in a different building with his wife and kids, but he also knew that Stan had been staying later and later at the Mystery Shack. He fully expected that Stan would lose track of time and be transformed when the moon rose.  A howl echoed in the distance.  That howl was answered by another one, much closer.  A giant wolf emerged from behind the Mystery Shack. The hairs rose on the back of Soos’ neck.  His heart jumped to his throat.

              Dude…  A scar on the wolf’s right shoulder caught the moonlight, shining amidst its gray fur. The exact same gray as Mr. Pines’ hair. The wolf sat back on its hindquarters and howled again.  Once more, a howl sounded in response.  The wolf got up, shook itself all over, and bounded into the forest.  Soos stared silently.  For a moment, he grappled with whether or not he would follow the wolf. I didn’t bring any weapons or anything, what if the wolf isn’t Mr. Pines?  There was a faint rustle behind him.  Soos spun around.  There was nothing there.  He let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a scream as something with teeth and claws jumped out of the bushes, tackling him to the ground.

              “If you’re Mr. Pines, I swear, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Soos said, covering his eyes.  There was a loud bark and a series of heavy thuds.  The claws pinning Soos to the ground vanished.  Soos opened one eye.  The gray wolf from earlier was standing over him protectively, growling loudly at the forest.  After what felt like an hour, the growl faded from the wolf’s throat, and it looked down at Soos.  Human emotion was evident in the wolf’s glowing, brown eyes.  Soos swallowed.  “Hi, Mr. Pines.”  The wolf snarled softly, then, with its teeth, picked Soos up by the shirt collar. “W-where are you taking me?”  The wolf marched over to the Mystery Shack, set Soos down on the ground, and then went behind the back of the building.  Soos was about to follow when Stan Pines, partially dressed, appeared from the same place the wolf had gone.

              “Kid, what the hel- heck was that?” Stan demanded, wearing only his pants. Soos opened and closed his mouth silently.  “C’mon, Soos, what were you thinking?”

              “You really are a werewolf,” Soos whispered.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I was- I had to check and-”

              “You coulda gotten killed,” Stan said fiercely.  Soos was surprised by the concern in Stan’s voice.  Sure, he liked to think of Stan as being a sort of surrogate father, but he didn’t really think that Stan felt protective of him, like he did his actual children.  “Over what, a joke?  You’re smarter than that.”

              “It started as a joke, but then I thought it might be true.”

              “Uh-huh.  How’d you figure that out?” Stan asked, his hands on his hips.

              “I, uh, I watched you and your kids.  You guys act like wolves, y’know.”  Stan’s mouth flattened into a straight line.  “And you guys eat meat like, all the time.”

              “Yeah, we-”  Stan looked off, clearly frazzled, again startling Soos.  He wasn’t used to seeing Stan so flustered.  “Hmph.  Guess we don’t hide it as well as I thought.”  Stan looked back at Soos with a firm gaze, his eyes shining the same way they had when he was a wolf mere minutes ago.  “This was still a stupid thing to do.  Werewolves are dangerous, but at least none of the ones around here will hurt you. There’s all sortsa other dangerous stuff in the forest during a full moon.  You’re darn lucky I was still nearby.”  

              “Yeah, I am.”

              “You’re not even eighteen yet!” Stan continued.  “Don’t go trying to kill yourself by taking a full moon forest hike in Gravity Falls!  I mean-” Stan shook his head.  “I swear, it’s like having another kid,” he muttered to himself.  Soos perked up.

              “What was that, Mr. Pines?”

              “Nothin’.”  Stan glared at him.  “Look, promise me you won’t do something that dumb again, okay?  Your grandma isn’t the only one who’d kill me if anything happened to you.  My kids made you an honorary pack member ages ago, so I’d have to deal with them, too.”

              “And your wife,” Soos said helpfully.  Stan grimaced.

              “Yeah.  Her too.” Stan sighed heavily.  He seemed to have run out of steam, so Soos took the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him.

              “How come you turned human again?  It’s a full moon?”

              “I’ve been a werewolf long enough that I can force a shift if I need to,” Stan mumbled.  “And being high up in a pack has its perks, too.”  Soos’ jaw dropped.

              “Are you the alpha?” he whispered.  Stan let out a bark of laughter.

              “As if.  I’m married to the alpha, though.”  He fixed Soos with those steely eyes again.  “But I’m not answering any more questions.  I’ve got other things to do tonight.”  Soos heard a howl in the distance.

              “Is that your wife?” Soos asked.  Stan shook his head.

              “No, it’s one of the kids.  Now, get yourself back home so I can take care of my wolf business, okay?”

              “Uh…”  Soos looked away.  Stan groaned.

              “You walked here, didn’t you?”

              “I had to be sneaky!”

              “You-”  Stan let out another heavy sigh.  “Fine. Gimme a sec.  I’ll transform back, then I’ll take you back to your grandma’s house so nothing bites your face off.”  Soos beamed in excitement.

              “I get to ride your back?”

              “No fu- freaking way, kid.  I’m carrying you like the pup you are.”  Stan went back behind the house, muttering darkly.  A second question came to Soos.

              “Mr. Pines?” he called.  There was a pause.

              “What?” Stan asked, exasperated.

              “Why didn’t you make me promise not to tell anyone you’re a werewolf?”

              “Two reasons, kid.  Number one, even in this town, no one would believe you.  Number two…”  Stan trailed off.  “…You’re not the kinda person who would do something to screw up someone’s life.”  There was another pause.  “Unlike some people I know,” Stan said, so quietly Soos could barely make it out.  A warm feeling began to spread throughout Soos’ chest.  He grinned, caught up in the kind things Stan had said to him.  A large gray wolf emerged from behind the Mystery Shack and stood in front of Soos.  Soos beamed up at Stan.  Stan rolled his eyes, then, like before, delicately picked Soos up by his shirt and set off.

              This is the best night ever!

#uhhhh hopefully Soos isn't too OOC. he's a difficult personality to do properly #Stanuary #Angiewolf AU #Stanley Pines #Soos Ramirez #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[fallingin-like]

november 22

fox sleep by @annawrites [requested by @allforthebee]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is an amazing fic that features shapeshifter!neil who arrives at the foxhole coven in the form of a fox. it is such a sweet, playful, and comforting fic with a wonderful tinge of magic, i cannot recommend this fic enough. 

shapeshifter fics are always among my favourite, so i cannot explain exactly how excited i was when i first saw this posted. this was 10k words of softness, but at the same time it felt entertaining and i didn’t want it to end. i love the world that you created, it feels like it really does exist.

some of the parts i especially enjoyed:

”it’s like a gong being struck inside andrew’s head, and it hurts right down to his fingertips” there is something so andrew about having the wards tied to to himself in a way that it physically pains him when they’re breached. that he allows himself to endure this pain to protect the ones he cares about. i wonder, is this how all wards are? or just how andrew’s are

”trust-such a foolish, fickle thing; and yet.” ooh i love this sentence. andrew is so reluctant to let people in, it’s so wonderful to see that andrew has allowed himself to trust some of the foxes and it really shows the bond that has formed between him and the other foxes

”the morning is sharp and cold, a blade buried under snow” oh, what beautiful imagery

”nothing should have been able to break through so easily” this makes me so excited! i love powerful characters, although i know that this means that andrew will immediately be that much more wary and suspicious of neil

”andrew grinds his teeth. he must have done it a lot in his sleep last night because pain shoots through his jaw at the renewed pressure” lol this is really relatable

if there’s anything i love more than shapeshifter fics, it’s shapeshifter fics where the shapeshifter is injured… sounds mean but i just love angst!!

”his energy is a carefully rationed good; he’s stopped wasting it on arguing with a stubborn bunch of bleeding hearts who don’t listen to him anyway.” although i know that andrew is, for the most part, fond of the foxes, there’s something so heartbreaking about this. i don’t know exactly what andrew’s backstory is in this au, but i assume it’s similar to in the books, where andrew learns at a young age to not speak his opinion because it doesn’t change things

”sunlight warms his back through the window as he pokes the wards in his mind one by one, plucking at them like strings and listening to their familiar hum” ahh magic is so so cool, i’m always super interested in how it works. do you think that renee experiences her wards in a similar way? i always find myself leaning towards the idea that andrew experiences the world, and as a part of that, magic, in a way that so unique to only himself and that’s why he has so much control over his emotions, actions, and powers

”he doesn’t miss his jacket until he’s back outside and the biting wind sticks its icy fingers under his shirt.” ugh i am such a big fan of your descriptions

”the lapping stops. the fox’s head swivels over and his eyes unerringly find andrew’s across the room” woah i got shivers reading this!!

”the fox hastily retreats into his blanket nest-andrew can see his jacket poking out of the mess and tamps down a brief flash of irritation” i love nesting!! i wonder what neil was thinking when he added it to his pile, was he drawn to the scent of andrew?

”andrew remembers the burned patch on his face, now hidden under healing salve, and puts the lighter away. for now” !!! this is good

”then he reaches out to tap the box twice for yes, somehow succeeding in making the movement look sarcastic” neil josten i love you

”he looks a little bit chastened, but andrew catches him scratching at a scab again the minute abby’s back is turned” this is a great example of how flawlessly you are able to show neil’s personality even though he’s a fox. this reminds me of when wymack was like ‘make sure you have your phone with you and on all the time’ and neil was like ‘okay coach’ and immediately turned it off (was that canon? i think it was but not sure when it happened)

”everyone turns to the fox, who is busy sneaking persimmon slices from renee’s bowl while renee graciously pretends not to notice. his face immediately morphs into a picture of innocence, which matt takes as agreement” this is adorable! neil is so sneaky, but in a cute way. reminds me of a kid version of himself, although he definitely acts this way in the series as well, taking advantage of how fond the foxes are of him (and because of that, how blind they are to how dark and capable he actually is). when neil’s a fox version of himself, is his mind the same as when he’s a human? or is he more… fox-like?

the chickens!!!hen solo? amelia egghart? genius

SCRABBLE THIS IS THE BEST IDEA IN THE WORLD

neil is really showing off his personality here, with the ‘ouch’ and ‘nunya’ (that one made me laugh)

”the words sublimate in front of his mouth, from sound straight to steam. andrew can almost see the scrabble grid in the air” woah, what an amazing couple of sentences

hmm “how long he’s been in his fox form” and “the risks of staying in any one form for too long” hints at the idea that shapeshifters can shift into multiple animal forms? is there a limit? is it based on skill? how many animals can neil shift into?

”it is less them settling into a routine than the routine settling over them, like snow piling up overnight. one morning, andrew wakes up and finds himself neck-deep in it” what in the world, this is so so good

”andrew can’t tell if neil and jean are friends or enemies or a bit of both, but they squabble over everything-the best napping spot in the common room, the juiciest bites at dinner, the shiniest cat toys, the plumpest berries” i love this little insight on what things are like. we don’t see a lot of interaction between neil and jean in the series

andrew carrying around fruit for neil is super cute!

oo i like how you handle neil’s response to not shifting. “neil huffs and pushes a few letter tiles around aimlessly” and “he yawns demonstratively and curls up in his nest” yeah that’s neil

andrew in an ugly sweater knitted by bee that is super warm is the most adorable thing ever

THE BOOZY HOT CHOCOLATE SCENE IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITES. IT FEELS SOFT AND KIND OF BLURRY ALONG THE EDGES. ANDREW TRUSTS NEIL ENOUGH TO BE DRUNK AROUND HIM AND I LOVE THAT. thank you for listening to my psa.

wait okay so the edges of the newspaper start to smoke, what is the extent of andrew’s powers?

ohymgoodness i didn’t know there was something that could be as cute as andrew giving neil a bath!!

the scene with andrew showing neil the newspaper is so good. how you describe neil breaks my heart, and i love the mention of andrew feeling neil’s scars

”he seems asleep every time andrew checks on him, but somehow he still follows the progress of the lights across the room, ending up squashed in a corner with the last ruddy-golden wisp of it before it disappears altogether” this is a wonderful detail and i love that you included it

NEIL SHIFTING BACK INTO HUMAN FORM AND ANDREW FREAKING OUT AND THEN NEIL GOING BACK TO A FOX oh. it’s good. again and again. i love the way that you treat it.

i bet the thing that neil missed the most about not being in human form was being able to talk. he probably only survived as a fox because then he couldn’t insult people

”and neil promptly conks out mid-sentence on the couch with his feet in andrew’s lap” ahh this is so cute

”was anyone going to tell me that he’s this handsome or was i just supposed to find that out myself” OH MY GOODNESS YOU REALLY DID THAT

ANDREW AS A FURRY UHHHH

the porcupines!!

okay so dan has a dog, renee has an owl (love that idea, so serene, all-knowing, but ready to strike and attack at a moment’s notice), seth has a rottweiler, aaron has a ferret (that is hilarious to me, HAH), bee has a cat. are there any others that i missed/weren’t mentioned? how did you come up with these matches and do you have backstories behind how they came together?

this fic was so so wonderful to read. as a really conflict-averse person, i loved the sense of comfort i had while i read this, i knew that they were all safe and protected and i felt so warm and cozy. i loved your characterization and the way that you were able to show neil’s personality so well in his fox form. this fic was fluffy, funny, and contained such beautiful descriptions and sentences. i know that when i read a fic that’s written from you, it will be good, and this one was no different. it was so easy to read and i loved witnessing the bond form between andrew and neil. i enjoyed this so so much. thank you for writing it!!

#fox sleep #aftg fic review #raelle writes

[chicago-reeed]

PHCK ME - Reed900 Fic Rec List

Hello!!! You might not remember, but awhile back I mentioned I had the start of a fic rec list that I planned to post (which I never did). To celebrate all 1K+ of you, I thought I would finish the list for you! It is my duty as a loyal reed900 servant.

DISCLAIMER: This list of reccomendations was made purely out of personal opinion. I by no means want to discredit any other fics/authors. Some may not agree with my choices, and that’s totally understandable. I just wanted to share these fics because I personally enjoyed them <3

I didn’t include some fics because they haven’t been updated in a long time, or I didn’t remember them enough to give them accurate reviews. Also, I’m sure there are many more fics that I forgot to put on here (these are from my ao3 bookmarks). I might include them in a future update.

Anyways, all of my recs are under the cut! There are a lot!! I had eight pages worth of them in my documents haha

Mint Condition - by itsdefinitive - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 18/? - Reed could see what they were going for there -- the whole infallible super-soldier thing.  A monument to testosterone made perfect, cast in steel within plastic.  It was actually really creepy.  Maybe that was on purpose.

The first reed900 fic I read, and it’s honestly what got me into the pairing itself.

Charon - by Vapewraith - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 20/20 - Gavin Reed, a mess of a human being, just wants to be left to his self destructive tendencies. RK900, an android designed by the most brilliant minds in the world to be the perfect machine, is desperate to grasp the full range of emotional freedom now afforded to him. The two will need to find an equilibrium before their incompatible personalities—and an eccentric serial killer with a dangerous piece of tech—swallow them whole.

I can’t even describe how much I love this fic. I’m a slut for horror, and there’s plenty of that in here. It might just be my favorite. Definitely recommend.

Two Sides of a Vaguely Similar Coin - by ZombiBird - Mature - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 13/? - RK900 is lost.

It’s been months since the Revolution and he’s still no closer to figuring out what the hell he’s supposed to be doing with himself. He feels like an outsider in his own body. Completely detached, nothing more than a quiet observer; like he’s looking down at the world through a layer of glass instead of fully living in it.

Gavin Reed is a temperamental asshole.

This isn’t news, okay? Gavin’s fully aware of what he is. He burns bridges instead of building them. Bites hands instead of shaking them. Would rather drown in a sea comprised of the consequences of his faults and misdeeds than try to change the way he is. Because people like him? Maybe they deserve to drown.

[Alternatively: Both lost in different ways, Gavin and RK900 try to figure their shit out and end up learning that, sometimes, it takes two people who have absolutely no idea what the hell they’re doing to get a goddamn clue.]

I don’t remember much about this fic, if I’m honest. Not that the story is forgettable, it’s just been awhile since I read it. However, the title definitely stood out to me so I know it was very good :P

Captcha Encryption - by Cerulaine - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 18/? - It's a little over a year after the android uprising and it's still the end of the fucking world.

Back in the day when things became shit he used to enjoy a drink or two. Or Five. It all depended on how long the shift ran. After 'The Accident' he can't even cough without Nines breathing down his neck anymore.

He just wishes everything would go back to normal, but if there's anything Gavin has learned it's that you can't unring a bell once it's been rung.

Or whatever. Fuck if he knows.

Similar situation to the last fic: I don’t remember much about it (my memory SUCKS), but I do remember thoroughly enjoying this one.

Daydreamer - by Pence - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 21/24 - Large purple bruises twined prettily around the corpse’s throat, every finger defined in perfect cruelty. His eyes tore away from the handprints as a cold finger traced the lightning strike scar across the center of his face—drawing his attention to a small, blue lipped smile.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave this town, Gavin?”

________

When a series of Detroit murders are linked as originating in his hometown, Gavin Reed is unwillingly assigned the case. Fowler insists that his history with the place and people will hugely benefit such an investigation.

He was fucking wrong. 

This fic is one big holy shit moment tbh. Really fantastic. Really makes you wonder why these authors aren’t paid to do this.

All Aboard the Underground Railroad - by Senjihae - No Rating - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 11/? - What starts as sticking it towards his half brother evolves into something with the potential to rewrite android history as he knows it. Gavin doesn't realize what he gets himself into until he is mistaken as the 'Android Messiah' of all things. It's not like he goes out of his way to help them, but his life gets a lot harder once Hank is assigned a shiny new boy toy ('sent by CyberLife').

Things only get worse when he's gifted a heap of metal of his own ('sent by Elijah Kamski').

(Yeah, fuck off Elijah)

Very interesting fic. Gavin is RA9 so that’s a thing. A nice slow burn!

Dragon Become Age - by errantwheat - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content Warnings - Chapters 11/? - Y’all wanted me to write dragon age!au so I did :)

YES! YES! YES! DRAGON AGE AU! YES! YES! YES! (it’s really gud)

Warmth - by TheRedPaladin101 - Teen and Up Audiences - No Warnings - Chapters 1/1 - Gavin frowned, the aching in his shoulder fading from his mind for a moment. “Then give me my jacket.”

“Your jacket is in no condition to keep you warm,” he stated. “For now, use mine and stay warm while we wait to head back to the station.”

----

Five times RK900 gave Gavin Reed his jacket, and one time Gavin gave his in return.

Very wholesome. Lives up to its title. Some good ole hurt/comfort!

Letifer - Terminallydepraved - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 19/19 - Gavin Reed is a DPD beat cop determined to make detective by any means possible, and putting an end to a string of murders looks like the quickest way to accomplishing that goal. Unfortunately for him, he fails to account for the real culprit— or the thought that perhaps he isn't the only one on the hunt for a killer.

(Now with cover art by Leetmorry!)

I love beat cop!gavin. It humbles him. And vampire!nines is scary and amazing. Love how the author wrote both of these characters (and the others too!). I definitely recommend this one!

A Strange and Beautiful Creature -  by LittleLalaith - General audiences - No warnings - Chapters 7/7 - Scientist Nines is called in to Amanda's lab to assist with a new discovery - a genuine Mermaid.

While Amanda is indifferent to the creature's circumstances, Nines builds an unlikely connection to the specimen and they grow a little closer than either of them expected.

(AKA Gavin is a sassy sea slug and Nines thrills in breaking the safety protocols)

Mermaid au! Nines wants to save mermaid Gavin, and it’s all very wholesome.

I Think You Do - by spotlightonmringenue - Teen and Up Audiences - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 16/? - “Son of a bitch, there’s another one. What the fuck is it doing,” Gavin says, grip going white on the gun as the android continues to stare at him without acknowledging Connor.

“RK900, my name is Connor. I’m part of a group called Jericho that recovered you from Cyberlife’s Production Center late yesterday. We are currently in the Detroit Police Department Central Station. Are you feeling okay?”

“It doesn’t feel shit,” Gavin mumbles, resisting the urge to step back as the RK900 takes a step closer. It holds out the cup, and Gavin’s eyes dart to it for only a second before flipping between Connor and his doppelganger.

“You requested coffee,” it says, and Hank sighs, leaning back against his desk while rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Quality ‘enemies to friends’ content. Nines is intimidating. Gavin is confused. Good times.

Flying with Crooked Wings - by UnCon - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 20/? - “Listen, kid,” Gavin started, cutting off the desolate child. Sure it was sad his dog had died but it wasn’t Gavin’s fault no one taught the little twerp chocolate was a dog’s kryptonite, “he’s in a better place, alright, so if you’d just stop asking for him to come back—it’d be much appreciated.”

“You promise?” the eight-year-old asked, his big brown eyes looking like glass—fragile and sparkly.

“Yeah,” Gavin lied, looking away as he did it—his halo going a bit crooked. To be honest, he wasn’t sure where dogs went after they died, only that he was tasked with calming the little boys and girls who despaired after them—at least until his punishment was up. “So just, you know, go to sleep and all that.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a world where angels and demons inhabit the same earth, both searching for a way to overthrow the other, both failing--Gavin sits right in the middle, with a crooked halo and a pair of wings to match. It's not enough to be a bit mischievous, however, he also has to get caught up in the demon brothers' scheme to take over heaven. Perfect.

Really good! This fic has the interesting dynamic of Gavin as an angel and Nines as a demon. Check it out!

The Red String Will Still Connect Us Ten Thousand Miles Apart (and to the moon and back) - by Jillflur - Teen and Up - Content warnings - Chapters 5/5 - Gavin, an ‘unlovable’ man without a Soulmate. He was used to it, never had one since he could remember. However, that little fact changes when he wakes up one day and realizes that he suddenly has a Red String connected to his ring finger. It only gets worse when months later, an android walks into the precinct who apparently is his new Soulmate!

Can androids even have Soulmates?!

To make everything even more complicated, a sudden new killer is on the Streets, and he murders people by cutting their Red Strings!

A soulmate fic by our very own jillflur! So good. Amazin. I love the red string trope so much. Yall should big read.

the prince & the reed - by Pence - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 2/? - "I wanted to marry you," the prince murmured, polished armor gleaming as he stared down at the injured man--icy eyes tinged with sadness. Regret.

A guttural scream ripped from the soldier's throat as a heel dug into his wound, arm coated crimson from his weeping shoulder.

The soldier's teeth were stained pink as he jerked his chin up to grin toothily at the other man, bloody fingers scrambling down his thigh in search of the dagger tucked into his boot.

"Then drop to your knees and ask me properly, Nines."

Okay this fic is only two chapters and hasn’t been updated in awhile but GOT DAMN do I love how the author set this medieval fic up. I’m a slut for the medieval au’s, so that’s just extra points.

Not a teacher but I can teach you a thing or two - by Adishailan - Teens and Up - No warnings - Chapters 20/20 - Gavin owed the walking hunk of plastic. He owed him. Ugh, Gavin hated owing people stuff. It gave him a horrible feeling in his stomach, like indigestion, except worse because it involved emotionsTM. This, coupled with the fact he was pumped up with drugs and suffering a concussion, was why he was about to make a terrible, terrible mistake.

“‘Kay. Fine. Thanks or whatever. Lemme know if you ever need anythin' prick.”

RK900’s LED went yellow at this, and this time Gavin was pretty sure he was doing the processing thing. It was still yellow even when he nodded in a serious way and said:

“That would be useful.”

Oh man this one is BIG CUTE! It’s so soft, and is a fantastic slow burn. I totally recommend this fic.

O May I Join the Choir Invisible - by BanishedOne - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 13/? - Gavin Reed was a new inmate at a prison where the infamous killer, R. Nathan Kearney, was on death row. Circumstances led to an unfortunate encounter.

Okay don’t quote me on this but I think you can find the rest of this fic on Twitter. It was posted in a bunch of seperate posts and it was really confusing but there was definitely extra chapters. You can find the post here (or at BanishedOne on twitter). Other than that, this is a really good fic! The boys get into a lot of trouble!

Neon Maps - by caffienefueledfeels - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 11/11 - Everyone has their limits. Gavin is about to discover several of his own.

He's broke, barely scraping along, and struggling to keep an aggressive black-mailer off his back. On top of that, the grey-eyed distraction in his bed is about to test his heart in more ways than one.

Cyberpunk fic!! Super interesting! Go check it out!

Computers Are Elaborate Cat Beds, Actually - by errantwheat - No Rating - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 6/? - “Marvelous find, Gavin. They’ll promote you for this, surely.”

Gavin pulled an exaggerated frown. He was awfully animated for a robot. “Jesus, What kind of human are you? I’m waving a fucking kitten in your face and you’re still a bitch.”

Really cute. I’m pretty sure there’s some art to go with this fic. Super duper cute reverse au!

More Than a Woman, More Than a Bride - by AvixiLynn91 - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 38/? - When Gavin’s life is threatened for the last time by a violent gang expanding the production of a new drug in Detroit, Captain Fowler must come up with a plan for his safety. Perhaps forcing a marriage between Nines and Gavin wasn’t the best solution he could come up with...

Oh man. This fic. Let me tell you. I’ve been with this fic since the beginning and it is one hell of a roller coaster XD. The author updates constantly, it’s really impressive.

More Like You - by Mooneye - Teen and Up - No warnings - Chapters 1/1 - “This next bit’s going to get awkward. I’m going to interface with you.”

At that he could feel the collective confusion in the room. His eyes darted up to look at Hank and then Nines. They both seemed eerily still and were possibly thinking that Gavin had surely lost his mind.

Gavin has kept his prosthetic arm, with good reason, a secret from humans and androids alike for as long as he’s had it. The prospect of losing Nines threatens to unravel everything, but perhaps it’s worth the cost.

The idea of Gavin (an android hater in-game) having a prosthetic-android arm is definitely interesting!

An Unforeseen Union - by AvixiLynn91 - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 16/16 - Gavin and Nines are sent undercover to investigate a slew of brutal murders at a gay counselling and therapy resort for androids and humans. They're forced to pose as a couple, but soon feel their relationship becoming more than an act as real feelings develop.

I loved the dramatic whodunnit vibes in this fic! It gets crazy :P

The Great DPD Kink-Off - by connorssock, LittleLalaith, Skye_Willows, Stujet9rainshine - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 24/24 - It started out as a bit of rivalry and turned into a competition. Who was the kinkiest android in town?

If you like smut, then read this. That is all I will say.

The Black Nights, The Long Dark - by bvssbot - Explicit - Content warnings - Chapters 8/12 - translation of an amazing russian fic тёмные ночи, долгая тьма (the dark nights, the long darkness) into english

An unknown catastrophe was the reason Gavin ended up stranded alone on a godforsaken Canadian island. Having almost made peace with the thought of living in solitude for the rest of his days, he saves the life of a pilot named Richard, whose airplane crashed in the middle of his humanitarian mission.

Shit, I loved ‘The Long Dark’ and I love this fic. I don’t speak russian, unfortunately, so I must wait to read the end. But this is still amazing and you all should read it.

Detroit: Outlast - by Cardboardghost - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 1/? - Connor Upshur is a down on his luck reporter, who spends his nights getting drunk and passing out at home. A mysterious email calls him to Mount Massive Asylum, owned by the Cyberlife corporation. Armed with nothing but a camera and his wits, Connor must brave the asylum's horrors and find way to save the people Cyberlife stole from him.

Gavin Park is a beat cop looking for a more well paying job. So when an offer to work private security at the Cyberlife corporation all but falls into his lap, how could he refuse? Gavin quickly realizes things are not what they seem, and in an attempt to expose Cyberlife, he ends up further in their clutches. Now he and Connor must work together to claw their way out of the asylum's depths, and the familiar faces that wait inside those walls.

This fic only has onw chapter, but go check out Cardboardghost’s art if you finish reading this!! They have provided so much quality content for the Outlast/DBH crossover I didn’t know I needed.

Gin & Tonic - by limchi - Explicit - No warnings - Chapters 8/? - People didn’t like Gavin Reed. Gavin Reed didn’t like people. It went together like gin and tonic, you can’t have one without the other. Nines hated him and he hated Nines. Those were the rules they played by, the rules that couldn't be changed - until fate decided they could.

It turned Gavin into pretending to dislike and Nines into a dense idiot with a crush, unable to grasp the concept of love. Both in utter denial. The catch: gravity worked against them, pulled them together at a frightening pace. Push against and defy the rules of nature or go along the prevailing forces?

Your friendly neighborhood reed900 fic. Very epic slow burn and fluff (and a hint of angst tbh). I definitely recommend!

Bitter Half - by turnabout - Mature - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 5/5 - Gavin Reed was born unmarked, and had spent his entire life expecting to die like he lived - alone. It isn't until Tina points out the new serial number on his chest that he realizes everything is about to change. Whether that's for better or for worse is up to him.

I’m a sucker for soulmate fics and this one does not disappoint!

K-900 - by Serazimei - Teen and Up - No warnings - Chapters 3/3 - Gavin and Nines were a great team. Unfortunately they were both huge workaholics. That's why when Nines' body gets busted on a job and the needed parts aren't available yet chaos is inevitable. Needing to choose between waiting and potentially being of no use at work or participate in one of Kamskis experiments and transfer his mind into an Android dog the decision is easy to make.

Who knew being in a dog body could become such a hassle? Not Nines, that's for sure.

Nines is a pup!!! I don’t believe I’ve seen a fic like this yet, so it’s really cool!

Thanks I'm Hating It - by Lupo (LupoLight) - Explicit: only suitable for adults - No warnings - Chapters 4/4 - Gavin goes to a fast food burger joint and Nines judges him. Then he realizes that Gavin isn't as much of a dick as he used to be, except he is, but in a different way. He isn't sure how to react to this knowledge.

QUALITY reed900 content

Bloodstains - by DeviantAlicee - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 12/? - Nines is an interrogator & detective for the DPD with a dark past. His thick skin & smarts helping him to be one of the most valuable members of the department. He's cold & daunting.

GV200 is one of the first police android models who's partnered with a cruel beat cop who not only hates that his partner is an android but doesn't think GV can feel any of the cruel things he does or says to him. The android doesn't speak up due to the fear of being shut down.

Nines has no clue that the android he bumped into at a bar is in fact a police android. He just thinks that he might be somebody in need of some help. But, as time passes by & a new drug that can be used by androids begins to circulate, Nines begins to realise the situation is a whole lot more convoluted than he originally thought.

This is a really interesting reverse au! Check it out!

Team spirit - by ilse_writes - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 4/4 - Someone had the unholy idea to go camping with the department, all in the name of 'team building'. Gavin is not liking it very much. That tall instructor with his haughty manners and cool eyes... that one he likes very much.

I don’t think I’ve seen another au quite like this one. Very epic content, can we hit Gavin Reed?

Wake Up - by SkySquid22 - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 6/? - “Gavin!”

GV200 slipped out of his stasis. He didn’t get a chance to open his eyes before a file came down on his face, smacking him.

“And here I thought tin cans didn’t sleep.”

Something was wrong.

Something was very very wrong.

DIS GOT ME  F U C K E D  U P!!! Bruh @skysquid200 really out here shaking my world with this fic. I was hollering while reading this like I got HYPED

Natural - by Erik_Heinrich - Teen and Up - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 1/? - They are all wing people.

Gavin gets partnered with Nines. As expected hes not too happy about it, but their partnership seems to be going well. That is until spring comes along. Nines wings seem a bit fidgety and Gavin is nesting. Nines doesn't realize he's been trying to court Gavin, and Gavin is just as oblivious.

or. They are both complete idiots the whole time

WING FIC WING FIC WING FIC!!!! Yall dont know how long I’ve looked for a reed900 wing fic. My homie @phckingusername out here doin God’s work <333

Thank you all so much for 1K!!! Being able to hop on Tumblr everyday and talk to you guys makes me so happy!! I really hope I didn't f up this rec list anywhere lol. Hope u guys like it!!

#thank yall so much #i cant say it enough #dbh #detroit become human #gavin reed #rk900 #nines #reed900 #fic rec list #reed900 fic recs

[calucadu]

Another hole in the wall

I'm so happy to have done this in collaboration with the lovely @anakitoart! ❤

Check her incredible drawing out here! You should also consider following her on Tumblr, her art Tumblr and Twitter! She's such a sweetie!!

Another hole in the wall, a Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia One Shot.

Summary: Bakugou’s never tried a glory hole before, until now.

Pairings: Bakugou/Kirishima.

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou

Rating: Explicit

Read on AO3

Or read below the cut

Bakugou’s never done this before. Sure, he’s done other things, and they’ve all been a lot of fun, but this is him stepping out of his comfort zone. He impatiently taps his fingers over the dark screen of his phone, hoping to master the courage to do it. With a sigh, he tries to reason with himself. It’s not too different from all the other stuff he’s done. It really isn’t. 

It should be easier than it seems. He doesn’t even have to add a profile picture, and even if he wanted to, they aren’t allowed to show their face. So, it’s one less thing. But Bakugou likes his face. He thinks the sharp lines of his jaw and other features are what make him handsome. It certainly isn’t his personality what gets him laid, and he knows that. He’s not particularly good with words, or people. And it had never really mattered that much to him until he realised he was alone and that that’s how he was going to die if he didn’t at least make an effort.

So he’s gone down this rabbit hole of trying to meet new people through the internet. It’s harder not only because of his difficult personality, but because he’s looking for one person in particular.

It had been years ago, and Bakugou still can’t shake the memories of how happy that person had made him. He’d been shaped by him, all his preferences in men and in sex, they were all thanks to that boy he’d met. His first kiss, his first sexual encounter. His first beer under the stars, holding hands and groping under clothes. It had been the best time of his life.

He’d tried to find him again, but he couldn’t remember his name and he could barely remember his face. He’d discarded that useless information at the beginning, not knowing it was going to be crucial for him later on. He’d never been good with names, he hadn’t bothered trying to get close to people. That’s why that boy was special. He didn’t care about all those things, he just saw Bakugou as Bakugou, and liked him for who he was. And when the blond realised what he felt was love, it was too late. The boy was gone; they were far away from each other again.

And it was all Bakugou’s fault.

He searches for him wherever he goes, without noticing. Every smile that flashes makes him think of his; every person with red hair makes him do a double take. He doesn’t remember much else about the boy, except that he did have a pretty little scar over one eye, and the sharpest teeth Bakugou’s ever seen.

He’s tried to forget him, but the memory of him never fades. He’s tried everything to get over him, from alcohol to other people to bed, but nothing has worked.

When everything else failed, he tried looking for him online, but without a name it’s hard to get a result on the internet. 

Bakugou’s almost given up. He wants to try other people until the taste of his first love leaves him forever. And he’s doing great on that front… except that he’s stood up six dates in the last month. He agreed to go out with them, but then he remembered they’re not him and he erased the app and bit the pillow to stop himself from screaming as tears rolled down his cheeks, a deep hatred for himself and his feelings in his chest.

This time he swears it’s different. There’s no face to face, it’s just sex. He can do sex. He can’t do dates or talking to people but taking his clothes off and letting others use him, that he actually enjoys.

But he’s still finding it hard to set up a profile. Maybe he’s afraid he’s going to do like he always does, and ditch another poor fellow that doesn’t deserve it. He tries to reason with himself that it’ll be fun and new. When that doesn’t work, he convinces himself to open the app by telling himself it’ll end in sex, and sex is a good motivator. 

It’s called ‘The Glory Hole App’. Bakugou’s never tried a glory hole before, but he has watched a lot of porn about it. It’s always been something he wanted to try, something he’d always click on when he saw the thumbnail. Plus he likes the idea of anonymous sex. He wants to be abused by a faceless stranger. That way he can picture it’s his first love fucking him into the mattress and when he opens his eyes he doesn’t have to be disappointed to not see it’s someone else. 

That’s why this app might be the thing for him.

He’s already downloaded the app and everything. He just has to click on it and set the profile up and look for someone who’d be keen to fuck him stupid. It shows you people in the same district as you and you can speak to them and arrange dates in the various different glory holes the country has.

When he finally manages to master up the courage to open the app, he’s a bit confused as to how it works. There are too many menus and options and pop-ups flashing up. It wants Bakugou to start setting up a profile so he does. He opts for a photo he took the other day to use as his profile pic. It doesn’t show his face but it’s him biting his shirt to pull it up enough to expose his abs and stomach. The viewer can also see his bed to one side, so it’s sort of inviting people in like that.

He lists his interests and ticks the right boxes, asking to only be paired up with men, and preferably tops. Immediately a notification with a few suggested people for him pops up, and he clicks on it, going over a large amount of penises he doesn’t think are tremendously impressive. Some of them have photos like his, exposed stomach and sculpted abs. One does catch his eye, however, and he decides to go to his gallery and look at more of his pictures. 

The profile belongs to RedRiot, and by what Bakugou can see of the man, he’s very hot. ‘Likes: meat, tough guys and making you whimper 😉’ His description reads. Suppressing a snort, the blond decides to message him: ‘Hmm I doubt you’re really are up to par with that description of yours.’

He feels a bit giddy after hitting the enter button. He’s never felt like this while on the other dating apps, but then again, this one is different. 

He really wants to be answered by this man, but a few minutes later he still hasn’t received a response. Feeling dejected, Bakugou drops his phone on his bed and starts doing the dishes he left soaking that morning.

An hour later he decides to pick his mobile up again, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see RedRiot’s answered him.

‘I really do like making guys like you whimper 😏’ The first message says. The next one, which pops up the moment Bakugou opens the chat reads: ‘Especially guys like you, who think they’re tough.’

“Fuck, who is this dude?” The blond laughs, licking his lower lip. “Who does he think he’s messing with?”

‘Like you could make me whimper.’ He texts back, proud of himself. A bubble with the word ‘writing’ appears next to RedRiot’s name and Bakugou’s tummy does a leap. A second later a little chirp forces his eyes to read the other’s message: ‘Why don’t we meet up so we can find out?’

‘Bold move’, Bakugou thinks, smirking as he quickly texts him back: ‘Tell me when.’

‘Whenever you’re free, baby. There’s one close to the station, if that works for you.’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘Friday afternoon?’

‘Working, could it be night?’

‘You’re on, big guy. You better not disappoint.’

Waiting until Friday is agonising. He continues to text RedRiot during the week, finding out things about the man. He learns that he’s a firefighter and that he has two big dogs named Red and Riot. He’s a fan of Crimson Riot, a TV series that was on when they were both kids. Getting to know him makes it feel less nervous. It’s not so much like he’s going to let a stranger fuck him, just a faceless acquaintance. An acquaintance that he’d actually like to meet.

As their date comes closer, they both sound more and more excited to meet each other and most of the blond’s worries dissipate.

‘I reserved booth #3, hope to see you ready 😉’ Bakugou wakes up on Friday morning to RedRiot’s message and he smirks, feeling his insides warm up.

Throughout the day the blond is nervous, finding himself making stupid mistakes he wouldn’t normally make. Sighing, he tries to concentrate, knowing fully well it’s just how nervous he is at the prospect of being fucked by a hot – and incredibly cute – man.

After dinner, he goes to his room to prepare himself for his big night. He’s giddy, biting his lips and trying to fight off an aroused smirk. Tracing a finger over the bottle of lube, he takes his trousers off and lies on his bed, ready to play with himself. He hopes the small pumps he gives his eager dick help relieve himself from the stress and nervousness of his blind date later that night. 

Inhaling a deep breath, he throws his head back and closes his eyes, letting his left hand roam down to his arse. Giving a cheek a light squeeze that excites him, he proceeds to circle his rim with the digit. Groaning, he thrusts his hips up, trying to reach a rhythm he’s comfortable with as he teases himself with one hand while he fists his dick with the other.

He turns around to raise his bottom up, pressing his face against the pillow. Coating his finger in a considerable amount of lube, he inserts it inside of himself, suppressing a whimper by biting on the soft cushion.

Sparks of pleasure make his body tingle and he bites on the padding harder, closing his eyes and rutting against air, trying to feel the friction against his dick more. Feeling his toes curl, he quickly releases his leaking cock, knowing he only needs to tease himself, not cum over and over before the hunky stranger gets a chance to play with him.

He takes his time to prep himself well. He spends over half an hour stretching himself open, playing with his fingers and edging himself on as he looks at the pictures of his… well, he supposes it’s his date. He’s never been this excited about a date before, or about sex. He coats his hole in lube some more before putting a cute studded plug inside of himself. He then quickly gets dressed and ready, without worrying too much about his clothes and appearance since he’s not going to be seen by the other.

The ride to the place is nerve-wrecking. His stomach seems like it’s doing somersaults and he can’t stop his foot from tapping the floor impatiently. Bakugou keeps getting his phone out of his pocket to check the time and the place and also the app, to see if he has new messages from the stranger. He’s scared he’s going to get dumped or cancelled on. But the last message he received stays the same, and it’s RedRiot telling him how eager he is to wreck him. Looking at it makes him smile and blush, which he responds to by clicking his tongue.

He eventually gets to his stop and he steps off the train, looking around to see if he can see the place. He knows it won’t be publicly announced or anything, but maybe he can spot an indicator or something. 

Since he’s lost he just uses his phone’s GPS to take him there. He reaches a pretty shady looking place, but the sign over it clearly says ‘Another Hole in the Wall.’ From the outside it looks like a bar, but there are numerous warnings over the tinted glass on the doors that only people over 18 can enter.

Once inside, he walks over to the counter where a bored man is playing on his phone. He barely looks up at Bakugou when the blond clears his throat and asks about his booth reservation.

He finally puts his mobile down and he turns to the computer. The sound of his mouse clicking is the only thing that can be heard until he starts speaking again. “Did you use the app to make an appointment?”

“Yeah.”

“Screen name, please.”

“King of Explodokills. Every word separated with an underscore.”

“Hmmm,” the man tries to stifle a snort. After a few more clicking sounds. “Is your partner RedRiot?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you the one receiving or giving?” 

“Receiving.” Bakugou mutters, his eyes narrowing as he goes along with the other man’s choice of words. His gaze falls on the floor and he feels warmth in his cheeks.

“Have you ever done this before?” The man asks as he gets out of his chair and grabs a set of keys. 

“No.” Bakugou answers, trying to appear calm. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and his palms are sweating, but he tries to hide this by wiping them discreetly against his trousers.

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Bakugou is led through a large corridor until they reach booth #3. He’s not only scared; he’s also excited. It’s something new and exhilarating, but not necessarily bad. He’ll see how he feels about it after getting fucked by the anonymous stranger.

The man smiles politely at him as he opens the door, turning the light on. He lets the blond enter first, and he’s faced with a table with black padding for him to lie on and a hole with flaps. The room is tiny and white , but the neon lighting it has makes it look violet and sky blue.

“I’ll explain how this goes. You lie down on this table and fit half your body through the hole. I’ll strap your legs in on the other side.”

“Okay.” The blond responds. It sounds easy enough.

“There’s a button under the table.” He crouches and shows it to Bakugou “It’s to call for help, whether you’re stuck, in pain, or being mistreated. Press it if you need to and someone will come to aid you.”

“Thanks.” He grunts, taking his shirt off.

“That’s all! Have fun!” The man waves goodbye as he open and closes the door, leaving Bakugou alone to his doom.

The blond’s not sure he will. His heart is thumping heavily inside of his chest as he undresses. He’s apprehensive and nervous, but he swallows hard and finally gets his underwear off. He sits on the padding, debating whether or not to take the plug out. He opts to leave it in and he lies down, shifting his body down slowly and inserting his legs through the hole. The flaps tickle his skin as they move along it and Bakugou lifts them up over his groin just as they go over his dick to protect it. 

He’s finally feeling comfortable as he lies on the padding when suddenly he hears the door open and a familiar voice attracts his attention. “Hey, it’s me again.” The man from before says. “I’m going to strap you in, don’t freak out.”

He grabs Bakugou’s left leg and lifts it up. The blond feels cool leather being bound to his ankle. “Your partner’s at the door. He looks pretty excited. I told him you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

“I did not!” He snarls back, his fists automatically clenching against the table.

“Sure.” He hoists up the other leg and straps him in. He tugs at his lower limbs to make sure they’re properly secured and then he claps his hands together. “Well, you’re all set here. I’ll get him to come in, then.”

Bakugou’s heart starts beating heavily again. He breathes in through his mouth to calm himself down, but it doesn’t seem to work. He’s bubbling with the need for something – he doesn’t know what – but he desperately wants to satisfy it.

He tries to relax and close his eyes, letting his head rest against the comfortable padding. He opens them again and looks at the ceiling as he waits, trying to find a pattern in the dirt stains on the white wall. He thinks about all the other people that have been there, just where he is right now, waiting or being fucked into the table, and that sort of makes him feel a little bit more at ease.

Suddenly he hears the door click open and he automatically tries to see who it is. He can’t, of course, since there’s a wall separating them. He did it on instinct since he feels very much vulnerable.

“Fuck that’s a nice arse.” A silky and smooth voice mutters. “Can’t wait to make a mess out of you.”

The blond’s first thought is ‘fuck, he sounds hot!’ as he tries to imagine what he looks like. He’s not very imaginative, though; he can’t even think of a face. A low chuckle forces him to concentrate on the man on the other side of the wall again. He hears a belt being unbuckled and his tummy contracts in excitement. Breathing irregularly and with his heart beating fast, he squirms impatiently in his seat.

“Oh, and you left the butt plug in, that’s a nice touch. I’m sorry, I’m going to have to remove this.”

“Yeah.” Bakugou whispers, his voice husky, tainted with lust. He nods as he says it, a small smile creeping up his face due to his excitement. 

“You sound eager.” The man chuckles, and the blond feels warm hands against his cheeks. He nearly screams as nails drag over his skin. Instead he squirms against his restraints, the leather shackles rattling as his legs shake in them.

“Fuck, just seeing you like this makes me hard. And, oh, look at you! You really are keen!” The deep voice mutters, sounding aroused. The man presses a finger on the head of his dick, then quickly letting it go to watch it bounce up and down in its half-mast stage. Breathing through his nose, Bakugou clenches his teeth and waits for the stranger to fondle him in any way. It’s almost painful when the man’s fist circles his cock. 

Gasping, the blond opens his eyes wide, a nice warm tingly sensation spreading from his groin to his heart. He spasms uncontrollably as the stranger plays with his cock and balls, one hand stroking his shaft from base to head and the other fondling his scrotum tenderly. A groan gets caught in his throat and Bakugou contracts his body in pleasure.

The blond feels himself grow as he’s teased. The stranger’s hands are like magic and he flutters his eyes closed, letting a deep sigh leave his mouth. The hand on his balls stops moving in a circular motion and leaves his body altogether. Bakugou’s pissed off about this, and he’s about to retort with a snarky comment when the man starts pumping his dick harder, making the other completely unable of using his mouth.

The stranger’s fingertips ghost over Bakugou’s rim and the blond almost bucks his hips against the table. They haven’t even started yet, why is he so excited and impatient?

The next thing he feels is the butt plug being slowly pulled out of his hole. He breathes in deeply as he fights the need to whimper. He clenches his teeth and tries to fight his legs shaking when the other man gropes at his exposed skin. The plug finally comes out with a sloppy plopping sound that resonates in his ears. 

“Fuck, I want to be in you so bad…” The stranger mutters huskily, inserting one of his warm fingers inside of Bakugou’s lubed up hole. The blond inhales sharply, trying to arch his back against the table and the restraints, but finding it impossible to.

He hears a low chuckle behind him. “Why won’t you talk? I wanna hear your sweet voice.”

“Shut up and just fuck me already!” Bakugou snarls, trying to push his arse back against the hand.

The man howls in laughter. “Eager little thing you are, aren’t ya! I like it.”

But this time he takes the blond’s advice and shoves another finger in, twisting them upwards and bending them slightly.

“You did a good job.” The other purrs, moving his digits agilely. It nearly forces a moan out of Bakugou. “You stretched yourself out pretty well.”

The blond wants to snarl at him, but he can only muster up a small grunt as he feels the fingers spreading him apart. He closes his eyes and inhales sharply, a warm feeling travelling through his body.

“Oh, do you like this?” The man whispers, trying to insert another. This third digit squeezes in and makes Bakugou’s hole burn with want.

“You fucking arsehole!” The blond pants, struggling to inch his behind forward, trying to get the other to touch him more, like he needs, desperately.

“You really do have such a lovely arse.” The other mutters, ignoring him completely. He slowly takes his fingers out and Bakugou makes a strange noise, like an abandoned puppy. He aches to have those thick digits inside him again, spreading him further and igniting the fire of desire that he craves.

But the other man has decided he wants to play with him, and he trails his hands over his soft cheeks, humming to himself. It’s a song the blond thinks he recognises, but whatever part of his brain that was concentrating on remembering where he’d heard it before stops working when the stranger slaps him with his open palm.

Bakugou’s breath hitches in his throat and he throws his head back, a loud thumping noise resonating in the small room he’s in as it collides against the table. Tears spring to his eyes but he closes them to not let them wander down his cheeks. It’s not pain, it’s the desire to feel the other man, to taste him, to be wrecked by him.

He hears fumbling on the other side of the hole and then he’s smacked again. His cock bobs up and down, rocked by the spanking. Then another and another, and the blond has to close his eyes tightly and clench his teeth so the little noises begging to come out of him don’t betray him.

“Let your voice out already~!” The man whispers, his palm ghosting over Bakugou’s cheek. The blond’s breath hitches again because he can feel the warmth emanating from the other’s hand and it feels like the anticipation is going to kill him. “And I’ll give you what you want.”

His voice sounds so raw, so animalistic that it makes Bakugou’s dick even harder. He likes how dominant he’s being with him. 

The man lowers his hand and rests it against the blond’s arse, giving the cheek a soft squeeze before it quickly disappears again. Surprised, Bakugou opens his eyes wide and lets out a little gasp. A few seconds later, he feels the palm slapping him with much more force than before and he thrusts his hips up, squirming against the restraints.

“Don’t pull too hard,” the voice on the other side chuckles “or you might just set yourself free by accident.”

“Not gonna happen.” Bakugou grunts.

“Mmhmm.” Is the only response he gets before he stops feeling the other’s hands on his skin. His tummy quivers in excitement, but a part of him is terrified, thinking he’s scared the stranger off.

Not even a few seconds later, he hears a weight drop. He feels breath against his lubed up rim, and a wet warmth crawls up his left arse cheek. A shiver goes down his spine and his toes curl in unexpected pleasure.

The mouth stops its adventure, pausing before it takes a large bite of Bakugou’s skin. The blond squeaks uncharacteristically, his hands balling into fists and hitting the table beneath him.

“Oh.” The stranger mutters, pulling his mouth and sharp teeth away from him. “That was interesting.”

“Fu-fucker!” Bakugou pants, closing his eyes in defeat. “Fuck you!”

“You’ve got a wide vocabulary.” The man chuckles, his voice lacking the sarcastic tone it should’ve had. He clears his throat. “Anyway, I should be the one fucking you.”

He pauses for a second before going in for a second bite. 

“I swear I’ll-!” 

“It’s just so much fun to play with you.” The stranger mutters, using one finger to trace Bakugou’s rim while his other hand gives a prompt slap to the possibly already bruised cheek. 

Inserting his digit into the blond, he sinks his teeth into the other cheek, a bit harder this time.

“I drew blood.” He whispers, pulling away. “I’m sorry.”

Bakugou considers biting his tongue, but he huffs, letting his head roll on the table. “If you’re going to be doing it, do it properly.” He mutters, bashful.

“What? I’m sorry dude, I didn’t catch that.”

“I said,” Bakugou raises his voice, frowning as he forces himself to speak. “Don’t fucking apologise for marking me or whatever. I can take a little blood. Fuck… I kinda like it.”

“Oh!” He hears, followed by a small chuckle. “I see.”

The stranger bites closer to the taint, an area that is strangely even more sensitive for the restrained blond. His breath gets caught in his throat and saliva pools in his mouth. “Mmm!”

“Yeah, that’s more like it!” The other cheers, quickly removing the finger. Bakugou feels empty as the warm digit vanishes, but the sudden change in the stranger’s voice makes his tummy leap. “Are you ready?”

‘I’ve never been readier.’ He thinks to himself, feeling the stranger’s impressive girth fill him up. He’s not only big, but also thick, and it’s not an easy fit. He trembles as he hears the man groan, in either pleasure or exertion, but the sound is like music to his ears.

The blond draws in a long breath, clenching his teeth and shutting his eyes tightly.

“Mmmm, you’re tight. It feels good.” The man hums, and Bakugou couldn’t agree more. It feels like home.

The stranger doesn’t begin to move until he’s fully inside of him, his balls pressed against the back of Bakugou’s arse, but when he starts it draws out a long moan from the blond. He sets up a brutal pace, forcing the other to grab onto the table to secure himself.

The sweet gasps that spill from the stranger’s mouth make Bakugou’s stomach twist deliciously. He loves all the sounds the man inside him is making, from his grunts to his moans and he tries to fuck himself on his dick just to elicit more pleased noises from him.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” He whispers huskily, giving an especially hard thrust upwards. “Yeah, work those hips for me. Want me to cum inside you?”

The thought makes Bakugou whimper, and suddenly the man stops.

“What was that sound?” The stranger seems beyond pleased with himself, almost cocky. 

“N-nothing.” Bakugou sounds hoarse when he speaks. He clears his throat before talking. “Hurry up, then, fuck me already.”

“Only if I get to hear that pleasant sound again. Will you whimper for me, baby?”

Now, the way this man says that last word almost makes the blond cum. It sounds so delicious and confident, yet caring and dominant. Bakugou wouldn’t mind hearing those words from that voice for the rest of his life.

“Make me!” He manages to retort, his voice gruff and strained. 

The stranger chuckles behind him. “Gladly!” Not a second later, the thrusting begins again, harder and faster than before. Bakugou is being pounded into the table, and he loves it. 

He honestly hadn’t expected to enjoy it this much.

The stranger angles his thrusts upwards and Bakugou throws his head back, groaning open mouthed as the man hits his sweet spot over and over with increased force. He mewls and whimpers, incoherently babbling about how good it feels. His mind is foggy, and his mouth is dry, his arms shaking as he takes the brunt of the thrusts. He tries to think of the boy he met all those years ago, feeling himself bordering an orgasm. He’s not quite there yet, he just needs a little push.

“Touch me!” Bakugou pleads, his legs shaking in their constraints as he tries to kick his way out. 

“I can’t hear you!” The stranger sing-songs teasingly.

“I said fucking touch me already!” The blond snarls, sweat dripping down his forehead. “It’s agonising!”

A low growl comes from the other side of the wall and Bakugou’s tummy leaps in excitement. It’s followed by his own groan as he feels a hand falling to his forgotten dick, fingers wrapping tightly around it. A small yelp escapes him as the man combines a hard thrust with a quick wrist movement and the blond’s seeing stars, his good spot having been hit. 

He’s mewling and whimpering with each slow movement the other makes. The stranger is purposely dragging out each thrust, gyrating his hips and angling them, aiming to make Bakugou cry. He’s doing a good job – the blond feels tears threatening to sprout from his eyes. There’s force behind each advance, which makes up for how slow he’s being with his plunges.

Bakugou aches with the need for release. He desperately paws at his bare chest, wishing to somehow alleviate the desire he feels. It’s not enough and he groans in agony, digging his nails into his skin to have something to grab onto as he feels a strong climax approaching.  Sparks ignite in his vision and the blond mewls, his hips rutting against the table, trying to increase the speed of his dick fucking his fist.  

The stranger is relentless with his force and his thrusts, and Bakugou quickly finds himself nearing his peak, moans and whimpers unconsciously escaping from his mouth as tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Cum for me baby.” The stranger nearly shouts. His voice feels so close yet so far away and the blond has never longed to be facing anyone more in his life. Honestly, he just wants to be grabbed, held in place as he’s brutally pounded into oblivion. He wants his mouth on his, the other's hands to cup his face so that they can look into each other’s eyes. It feels like their souls are connected like this, that they’ve known each other for centuries. He can feel everything this man has to offer just by his thrusts alone. He doesn’t know what he looks like but he doesn’t care because this stranger is making him feel everything the boy he loves made him feel and Bakugou bursts into screams as he climaxes, tears in his eyes.

He gets lost in the pleasure and in the high just as the memories of his love invade his brain, igniting his soul as he lets his release take him away. He’s vaguely aware of the other man groaning, his voice slowly sounding higher before it peaks in a final drawn out moan, his dick growing slightly thicker before exploding inside of him.

Bakugou hears a thumping noise, which he presumes is the stranger's body slumping against the wall. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the table, feeling spent. His breathing slowly becomes more regular. He moves his fingers, as if to feel them again. 

He hears a low muffled voice, but doesn't understand what the man's saying. 

There’s semen all over his stomach and his feet feel weird, like detached from his body. He’s not sure he can move, even if he loosened the restraints.

“Are you okay?” the man whispers, his voice soft and obviously worried. “Can I get you anything?”

“I…” Bakugou tries to catch his breath, scrambling to get up. His hands slip on the top full of his sweat and he curses lightly. “I’ve never been better.”

“Told you I could get you to whimper.” The stranger chuckles, but it sounds forced. After a slight pause, he asks: “Want me to unshackle you?”

Closing his eyes and smiling softly, he nods. “Yeah.”

The stranger undoes one leg, grabbing it tenderly and guiding it towards the padded table, so it can rest comfortably. He does the same with the other and Bakugou sighs, relieved. It feels good to stretch them again after being in that forced position for so long. He’s dying to get into a sitting position, but he feels like he can’t and he decides not to push his body.

“Want me to clean you…?”

“Nah, I’ll do that at home. You’re not going to do a good job here anyways.”

“I… your butt plug. Do you want me to put it in?”

“Could you?” Bakugou asks, his voice merely a whisper. 

“I’m sorry for coming inside you.” The stranger coos lovingly. His voice is gentle and warm, like he's trying to sound soothing. The blond feels a finger carefully prodding at his hole before the now cold butt plug's pushed inside of him. It sends a shiver down his still tingly spine. 

“It’s okay.”

“I… I should leave. I hope you enjoyed it. I know I sure did.”

‘It was amazing.’ The blond wants to stay, but instead just swallows hard. He hears fumbling on the other side of the hole and then footsteps. The door opens and closes and Bakugou finally hears nothing, except the loud sound of his heartbeat.

“Yeah.” He whispers to himself, seating himself on the slightly damp table. “It was unbelievably good.”

Slowly, he takes his legs out of the hole, wincing slightly at how stiff they are. He bends them over the table just to get them to move a bit before throwing his head back and sighing. Laughing, he lets the stress dissipate from his body. He’s so glad he went through with this and let that man wreck him. His body is sore but he hasn’t felt this good or happy in years. He smiles, looking at the now dark room on the other side of the hole, and suddenly, it clicks.

The song.

A memory of that night under the stars, a beer in between his thighs, where he put it to rest before leaning in to kiss the only person he’s ever loved.

The voice.

His voice.

Bakugou opens his eyes wide, a gasp escaping his parted lips. Frantically, he gets off of the table, only to fall onto the floor immediately. Swearing and snarling, he gets up, his legs still wobbly and weak from his orgasm.

He manages to push his body towards his clothes and he puts them on as fast as he can. As soon as he’s dressed, he grabs his phone and opens the app, clicking on the ‘recent chat’ button, but there’s nothing there.

 He’s gone.

#another hole in the wall #kiribaku #bakushima #bnha #my fanfiction #my writing #bnha fanfiction #kirishima #bakugou #kirishima x bakugou #collab #anakito #anakito's art

[the-walking-memelords]

Allegiances: Chapter 2

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Series is rated M

Word Count: 3066

A hunting trip gone awry stirs frustration in Clementine as the feeling of being sabotaged creeps through her mind.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Her foot kicked the loose papers that were scattered around the floor of the admin building.

“Marlon wanted to talk to you, he’s up in his office.” Brody had told her.

Her hand grazed the worn wood of the railing as she ascended the stairs to the second floor, the engraved double doors just at the top. Clem pushed the partially ajar door open all the way to see Tenn playing on the floor with an assortment of toys.

The boy stopped rolling his fire truck across the floor and gave her a nervous greeting.

“Hi, Clementine.”

“Hey.” she responded, studying the scars on his head.

The mutilated skin had scars crossing every which way. Obviously burns. She wondered if it had any connections to the charred building outside.

“Marlon wanted to see me?” She looked around the office, the leader nowhere in sight.

“I’ll go find him.” Clementine didn’t have time to utter a thank you before the boy hurried off, leaving his toys behind.

His nervousness towards her made her feel a small bite of guilt. She couldn’t pinpoint what, but something about him reminded her of AJ.

Now alone, she wandered the room checking out the knickknacks strewn about. Her eyes caught a dusty picture frame on the table. Picking it up, she brushed off some of the dust and examined the photo of two young boys in sports uniforms. A freckle-faced kid with dreadlocks had his arm around another boy with a blond mullet.

Louis and Marlon

A smile couldn’t help but tug at her lips as she saw how much Louis’ ears stuck out.

They’ve really known each other forever.

She quickly set down the photo as the door creaked open. To Clem’s confusion, no one entered. She could see the empty hall beyond the opening.

“Marlon?” She asked tentatively.

The door was pushed open further by the snout of Rosie, who eyed Clem with an angry expression. Clem jumped back a bit as the dog stalked towards her, snarling with her teeth bared. Rosie still moved closer, barking. Slobber dripping from her mouth.

Her heart raced as Clementine’s fingers slowly grasped around the knife in her pocket. Her back bumped into the desk as she ran out of space to run. She gripped the desk to stabilize herself as her knees threatened to buckle.

“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?”

Marlon lunged for Rosie’s collar. He held on to the chain firmly as he scratched her ears.

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay girl.” He looked to the shaken girl, whose knuckles were white around her weapon.

“Didn’t know you were so scared of dogs, I’m sorry.” his expression was earnest.

Clementine grimaced, rolling up her sleeve, revealing the jagged scar running up her forearm.

“A dog did that to me. Unprovoked. Sorry if I’m not too trusting of the things.” Her arm stung with pain from the past.

“I swear she’s not as scary as she seems, she just doesn’t know you.” He offered his hand to her.

“Let me show you.”

Memories of her encounter with Sam flashed through her mind as her eyes darted between him and the dog. What if it bit her? Clem had held on to all of her fingers this song she didn’t want to break her streak. Then again, if the dog learned to recognize her, maybe it wouldn’t try to maul her every time they came across one another.

I’m going to regret this.

She pushed back her fears as she held out her hand.

He brought her hand down to the dog’s face, letting her sniff it. She flinched at the touch of the animal’s cold wet nose. Her eyes remained locked on Rosie for any signs of aggression. A moment of panic rushed through her as the dog opened her mouth towards her fingers, just to be met with her wet tongue.

Gross.

“See? Not so bad.” Marlon chuckled, letting go of her hand.

Clementine released a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding.

“I’m sure the reason you sent for me wasn’t to play with your dog.” she wiped the slobber on her jacket.

“What do you need me for?”

“Straight to the point, I like it.” He commented

“I’m sending you out hunting with Louis and Aasim.”

---

She found the two chattering at the gate. Aasim adjusting the string on his bow while Louis haphazardly took some practice swings at the air with “Chairles.”

“Chairles.” Goddammit.

She still wasn’t over the pun.

“Great, you’re here.” Greeted Aasim.

“Let’s get going.”

“Hey, Clementine.” Louis fell in stride with her.

“I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough.” She was only half paying attention to his attempts at small talk. Her senses busy scanning the trees for any smelly intruders.

“Hunting grounds are usually clear of walkers.” Aasim explained.

“Sometimes they get caught in the snares and shit though. As you probably already figured out, a ribbon on a tree means a trap is nearby. So maybe stay away from those.”

“I’m never gonna live that down, aren’t I?”

“Nope.”

“I never have to worry about that. I’m basically a ninja!” Louis tossed his makeshift bat from one hand to another.

“You weren’t so ninja-like yesterday when I saved you from being eaten by that walker.” She joked.

“A fluke.” He said in a dramatic voice.

“I was so entranced by your proficiency in ass-kicking that the situation escaped me.”

She pursed her lips to keep her smile invisible but his grin was very apparent.

“We’ve got work to do.” Aasim cut in.

“We don't all have the privilege of being Marlon’s lapdog.”

“Ouch.” He put his hand over his heart.

“Someone’s a little jealous.” He leaned towards her.

“In my defense, I totally get things done. To me, survival is more of a day-to-day task.”

“That’ll get you killed.” How could someone live so casually? He could never hope to make it on his own with that attitude.

“You need to have a backup plan if you want to stay alive out there.”

“At least someone gets it.” Aasim let out a huff as he examined an empty snare.

“My strategy is to play the long game. You’ve gotta have plans B, C, and D If you want us all to keep living.”

Clementine cut of his rant as she heard a familiar growl from somewhere close by

“Shh. Shut up a second.”

She pulled out her knife as she peeked through the trees seeking the source of the noise. The others readied their weapons as well as they crept forward. A swinging motion caught her eye. Entering the small clearing, a walker hung from one of the snares. Its arms swung towards the trio and it’s growling increased.

Louis let out a laugh as he poked it with Chairles.

“Look at this guy. He’s like a walker pinata!” He stayed out of arm’s reach as he continued to prod the rotting corpse.

“I’m going up ahead. You two cut this thing down and reset the snare.” Aasim walked off, leaving her with Louis to deal with the walker.

“Sorry about Aasim. I promise he isn't so lame all the time.” He stepped back from the walker.

“He’s always on my case about having a good time, talking about ‘We need to guarantee our future!’ and all that horseshit.”

“Sounds pretty important to me.” She still couldn’t understand him.

“Well here’s how I see it.” His overly happy demeanour seemed to fade a bit.

“There’s only one guarantee: This moment. That's all we’ve got. The only thing any of us got.”

“So we might as well enjoy it.”

Living for the moment.

I sweet idea in theory. Clementine longed for such an outlook on life. Her life at the Delta seemed like a world away compared to the relative peace of this forest. She wondered how much AJ would like this place.

“Wanna take a swing?” She turned to see him holding Chairles out to her.

“You know you wanna.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Bullshit.”

“Perhaps you’re just feeling sympathetic towards this guy. I mean, you were him yesterday.” He teased.

Clementine grabbed the chair leg out of his hand. He recoiled slightly, a little unsure who she would swing it at. The weapon was heavy in her hand. She inspected the nails that protruded through the end, the wood around them stained with walker blood.

She held it over her shoulder like a baseball bat, taking one good swing at the head of the walker. A loud crunch sounded as its skull shattered. Dark blood dripped from its head onto the dirt below. Even with the damage, it still emitted small gurgles as its arms weakly tried to reach her.

“Wooo!” He cheered

“If the Olympics were still a thing, You’d get a silver for sure.”

“A silver, huh?” She adjusted her footing and prepared to swing again.

“Well, that could have been a lucky shot.” She immediately proved him wrong as her next swing caused the walker’s head to break away from its body. The head bounced a few feet away before it came to a stop.

A smug grin adorned her face as she turned back to Louis. His mouth was wide open as he watched her.

She flipped Chairles upside down. Pressing the bottom of the handle to his chin, she closed his mouth.

“You'll catch flies like that.” She passed his weapon back to him.

“You are incredible.”

“I know.” She turned back down the path to follow where Aasim had gone.

A smile still wide on her lips as she made her way down the path.

---

Clementine carefully reset the final trap before regrouping with the others.

“Job well done, team!” Louis beamed.

“Looks like we’re eating tonight.”

“Not all of us.” Aasim examined the rabbits they had caught.

“Four rabbits isn’t enough for eleven people.”

“Where else can we look?” There had to be more ways of getting food around here.

“Violet and Brody went fishing this morning, maybe they had some luck.” said Aasim.

“If they haven’t killed each other yet.” Louis added.

“Let’s go see what they've got.”

---

Bird calls sounded from overhead as the pair made their way down the path.

“So what do Brody and Violet have against each other?” She asked.

“That’s... complicated.” He spoke unsurely

“Brody has nothing against Vi, I can tell you that.”

“But…”

“But… about a year ago we lost two people.” He continued

“Minerva and Sophie.” Letting him know she knew.

“Yeah, they were really close with Violet. Brody was there when… when they died. I guess she blames her, at least a little.” He looked at the ground with a solemn expression. Obviously a difficult memory for everyone.

If only they knew the truth.

She pondered her presence in these woods.

I guess they will, one day.

Once I do my job.

---

They reached the river soon enough. Calmly flowing water between them and a rundown building just on the other side.

“Where are Vi and Brody?” There was no sign of the girls around. Just a walker with a spear sticking out of its head.

“Vi wouldn’t have just left this out in the open.” Panic started to creep into Louis’ voice as he looked around for his missing friends.

Clem looked down the river to see if she could spot them. There was nothing in the distance but foliage.

“Clem.” She looked up at Louis, who was on the porch.

“The lock’s busted. We might not be alone.”

Clementine drew her knife as they cautiously entered the building. Vines grew all over the inside walls and grass peeked through the broken floorboards. Plants seemed to be the only living things inside.

“This place is totally trashed!” Louis exclaimed, examining the upturned furniture.

How can he tell?

The place seemed to be pretty ruined, to begin with.

The faint sizzle of the dying embers drew her attention to the fire pit. The wood had been burned out for a while but the core still glowed orange. Clementine's hand reached for a familiar object that sat at the pit's edge. Her blood ran cold as she examined the half-smoked cigarette. The hand-rolled bible pages sent a chill up her spine.

Why is he here?

Surely they weren't ready to pull her out so soon. It had only been two days! Yet here was that bastard Abel, sticking his nose into her investigation.

“Did you find something?” Louis turned to her, noticing her uneven breathing.

“Nothing.” She panicked, tossing the cigarette into the remains of the fire.

“The fireplace is still hot, if someone was here they've only been gone a few hours at most.”

“Fuck. You think they'll be sticking around?” He ran his hands through his dreads as he paced.

“Probably not. It was most likely just a survivor looking for some supplies.” She attempted to downplay the situation.

“They took what they felt was useful, then moved on.”

“That doesn't mean they couldn't stumble across the school or something.” He shifted through what was left, figuring out what had been taken.

“I thought you were the worry-wart here.”

“I know how travelers think, that's all.” A sudden realization hit her.

“Wait, what about Vi and Brody?”

She wouldn't put it past Abel to take them separately and screw over the plan. Although, that appeared to not be the case. As if on cue, the two girls entered the wrecked shack, startling the two already inside.

“What the hell's going on?” Violet demanded when she saw them.

“Oh, thank God you guys are okay.” Louis ‘ demeanour changing from worried to relieved as he saw his friends.

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't we be?” Brody asked, confused.

“Someone broke in. Look at this place. There's shit thrown everywhere!” Louis kicked one of the chairs that laid on its side.

“Someone robbed us!?” Fear filled Body's eyes as she looked around the room.

“Did you see anyone?”

“Was anything taken?” Violet demanded.

“A couple spears, some tools, bait, and our best net.” Clem crossed her arms and remained silent as Louis did all the talking.

“Dammit.” Violet swore.

“We just walked a mile of river and the traps were all empty. No fish. None. We speared some out of the water, do you think it's enough?”

“Maybe. Rations might be slim tonight.” He said as he examined the bucket.

“We have to tell Marlon about this!” Brody tried to usher the others outside.

“Calm down, Brody. Freaking out isn't going to help the situation.” She spat.

“What do you think, Clem.?” Violet forced her out of her silence.

“You think whoever did this is coming back?” Her tone wasn't suspicious, but honest.

“No.” She lied, looking Violet in the eyes.

“I think we're in the clear.”

“You don't know that!” Her nervousness only grew.

“If they took some of our fishing supplies they might be planning on sticking around the river.”

Yeah, she didn't have a good excuse for that one.

Goddammit, Abel.

“Breathe Brody, breathe.” she muttered to herself.

Brody ran her hands through her red hair as she stepped away from the group. Her breathing was hard as she tried to suppress a panic attack.

“Just stay calm. We’re fine.” Clem attempted to calm her.

“We’re not fine! Who knows how many people we’re even talkin’ about! What if they find the school? If they’ve got guns they could kill us all!” This was getting out of hand.

“That’s not going to happen.” Her frustration creeping into her voice.

“How do you know? You have no idea what people are capable of out there!”

At that moment Clementine just saw red. She grabbed a handful of Brody’s shirt, jerking the girl forward.

“Think again.” Her words full of venom.

How fucking dare she.

To suggest that she of all people was ignorant to the way people were made her burn with rage. Clementine felt that after everything, no one knew it better than her.

“Hey, that’s enough.” Louis’ hand on her shoulder is what made her back off.

With a slight shove, she released her grip. Pushing past Louis and Violet she made her way to the door.

“Well if someone is still around we should go back to the school before we run into them ourselves.”

---

Most of the trip back was spent with Clementine walking ahead of the others. She could hear them muttering amongst themselves in some kind of argument. Her attempts at eavesdropping lead her to hear them discussing the likelihood of them being discovered.

Clementine ran a hand through her bangs, partly wishing she still had her dad’s hat with her as the late afternoon sun shown through the leaves.

God, he would never recognize me.

…

None of them would.

She couldn’t even recognize herself.

Footsteps fell in stride with her. She didn't look up.

“Are you alright.?” Clem didn't respond to Louis’ question.

“Look, I’m sorry about Brody. She really lost it back there.”

“I think we both did.” She studied the ground in front of her as she walked.

“Well, she didn’t mean it. She gets that way when she’s scared, that’s all.”

“So you came to apologize for her?” She kicked herself for still being upset.

“I came to make sure you were okay.” She finally met his worried look.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’ve been through a lot, more than any of us.”

If only he knew.

“But I- We are here for you. So you don’t have to isolate yourself from us.”

This wasn’t good. She was getting too close. How could she help it? There was something about his presence that was comforting to her. Her chest tightened as she tried to turn off her emotions. She needed to stop being so soft.

“I’m just so… tired.”  She confessed.

“I know, but you get to rest now. You’re not on the run anymore. You’re safe.” The guilt ate at her chest with every word he spoke. She knew she wouldn’t forget about him for a long time.

For AJ.

For AJ.

She chanted in her head. Her only means of justification being her love that little boy. Her son.

“No one’s ever really safe.”

“Well, we’re definitely safer together.” The cheerful inflection returning to his voice.

Clementine didn’t have the energy to ponder how wrong he was.

#my writing #allegiances #clouis #louistine #fanfic

[queenslasharchive]

Another Damn (Vam)pire Story, Chapter 4 (The Prologue)

(Author’s note: This is the epilogue of Another Damn (Vam)pire Story, but not of the Another One Bites At Dusk Series. You’ll be seeing more installments soon! :) 

Also: We do not support pedophiles or non-con here. Amy and Robbie’s (more than platonic) relationship is completely consensual and doesn’t occur until Robbie is a grown ass adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to love and be with. :)

Bapuji: Robbie’s name for Freddie, father in Gujarati. Bunic: grandfather in Romanian.)

“Eye of newt, and toe of frog, 

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, 

Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, 

Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,— 

For a charm of powerful trouble, 

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 

Double, double toil and trouble; 

Fire burn, and caldron bubble.” 

― William Shakespeare

Robbie Deacon met The Devil when he was seven years old. 

And he wasn’t talking about his Bunic either, Froggie’s father. 

Actually, Amy was a Prince of Hell, so just a powerful demon. Not exactly The Devil but close enough. 

He met his then-contractor at a street carnival in Piccadilly Circus, he had a pocket full of 10 quid and a line of younger siblings trailing after him like a clutch of eager ducklings.

Mikey, Lo, Jimmy and even little Felix, a too-warm wet face nuzzled into his neck as he toted the vampiric toddler along. 

Their fathers had been busy preparing for a show at the time, leaving the kids to their own devices or in the care of their usual Nanny Freestone. (Of course they’d snuck away from Uncle Phoebe. It was all they ever did). 

The babies, Lulu and Rory, were still with their minder.

While an excited Mikey made them stop and stare at every shop window as they passed by. Lo and Felix were gumming at Robbie’s mustard-colored hair or yanking at it in fistfuls. Jimmy had his face buried in Robbie’s tummy like an angry little limpet as they waddled along.  

Being a big brother right sucked sometimes. 

Mikey raced on ahead of them, until he collided sharply with a pair of black jeans that sent him falling backwards onto his bum, arms pinwheeling as he went down with a soft oomph.

The tall redhead scowled down at Robbie’s little brother, as though the poor kid had killed somebody instead of just being his overexcited self. 

Robbie raced over (well, as fast as he could race with all his attachments) and dragged his little brother to his feet, positioning himself between Mikey and the scary redhead. 

“Sorry, sir. He’s just excited.”

Robbie really didn’t sound all that apologetic, but he smiled anyway. 

Concealing his birth-father’s temperament behind his soft child features. 

“It is okay, Robert.” 

The tall man hummed and Robbie thought that was the end of it, dragging the kids along with him. But he stiffened mid-turn. How did he…?

“Come.”

The man wasn’t smiling, but he seemed warmer somewhat as he beckoned, fingers curling towards his palm in a come hither motion. 

Robbie’s arms were suddenly weighed down, heavy as anvils with the children who rested there.

He remembered being utterly terrified of the redheaded man, in his dark clothes and rattling chain jewelry. It was like a nod to one of the ghosts from A Christmas Story. 

The seven-year-old was planning on just plain running, until he saw the glint of something strange in those dark feral eyes. Oh no. 

“Mikey, take the kids and go to Uncle Phoebe. Now.”

He passed over Felix and Lo near seamlessly and Jimmy obediently took Mikey’s hand at Robbie’s behest. “Run, and don’t look back.”

“But…” He saw his little brother’s lip start to quiver and he shook his head slightly, eyes wide. 

‘Remember Froggie’s lessons?’ He mouthed pointedly, as clarity dawned in his little brother’s eyes this is what he trained us for and in the next second the younger was practically flitting away, off to get help and their little siblings to safety.

As Robbie turned back to the redheaded man looming before him, tiny hands curled into fists as he stood his ground. 

Trying to portray his whole defense with his eyes alone. My Froggie, one of my fathers, has fangs half the time, and my baby brother does too. My Uncle Phoebe is a hairy scary werewolf. You aren’t all that impressive, bruv. 

“Come, Robert. We have an engagement.” 

The redheaded man, his demon, his soon-contractor, Amy before he knew him as Amy, took him by the hand.

One tiny soft (human) hand wrapped in a huge clawed other. 

“How did you know my name?” 

Petulant, with his bottom lip jutting out plaintively as he was tugged along into the shadows. The walls around them seemed to ripple, all the colors and lights were swimming around and around and made him nauseous. He used the redheaded man’s hand to anchor him. 

“Are you here to hurt my family?” 

That question came out more demanding than the first, and when neither was answered, he ripped his hand away.

Teeth gritted tight and his nose wrinkled, spinning around with fists raised. As if he could actually defend himself against one of Froggie’s enemies. 

The room stopped moving the moment their hands disconnected. 

The demon before him was less than impressed. 

“I’m not here to take anything from you, or to hurt anyone you love, Robert. In fact, I’m here to give you a gift.”

Robbie’s narrowed suspiciously. “I don’t want The Bite or a Turning.” He wasn’t stupid. 

The redheaded man smiled. 

“I am not a werewolf or a vampire, little Deacon. I created them.” The creature came closer and closer, until they were right in front of each other, close enough to touch. “Oh no, I am here to give you a gift that will let you help your family, keep them safe, and thwart the laws of life and death.” 

“That’s impossible. Besides my family is full of immortals anyway. I don’t need you.”

Scowling, pudgy arms crossed and lips pursed like a pair of taut strings. 

“The living dead cannot die.” Robbie froze. “That little brother of yours? With the diluted vampiric blood? Enjoy his maybe twelve years of life, before the vampiric blood destroys the marrow of his long bones and takes his life with it.” Robbie looked up with genuine fear in his big blue eyes. 

“Felix? That’s going to happen to… I’ll be able to save Felix with your gift?”

The demon nodded, extending a hand again. 

“You’ll be able to save them all.”

Robbie Deacon, seven years old and raised by human monsters, peered at that hand suspiciously once more. “What’s the catch?”

“I, Avnas, Prince of Hell and 58th spirit of the Goetia, will have claim to your human soul.”

Robbie Deacon gave claim of his soul to a demon when he was seven years old. 

He became a contract-witch that day, a future warrior of Amy’s thirty-six legion army. 

One of the damned. 

-X-

“Why me?” 

Robbie would ask in later years, sleeping with his head pillowed in Amy’s lap after one of their consensual midnight excursions. 

He would ask it as a man, with a halo of mustardseed curls around his head, a pentacle scar on his palm and a tongue like a viper. His porcelain fingers interlaced with a hand that had once been so big. 

The redheaded demon’s blue flames licked at his skin like the raspy tongue of a cat, tickling rather than burning as the witch snuggled closer to his contractor, his demon, his lover.

Amy used his actual forked tongue to play with Robbie’s pointed ear, bending the cartilage back and forth, back and forth, before he spoke. 

“I am all-knowing, all seeing, carissimus.” The latin word term of endearment sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. “I saw more than you as a stubborn child back then, I saw what you would become.”

Blue eyes met red. 

“You knew that you’d love me one day?” Robbie smiled, smugly like the cat who’d gotten the cream. Amy rolled his eyes and lightly pinched the younger man’s backside, making him pout something fierce. 

“No, you cheeky little imp.”

Before Amy, he wouldn’t have known that a Prince of Hell could blush.

“The love is all your fault. Nobody else but you would fall in love with a demon. Perhaps there’s something wrong up here.” Gently knocking on the side of Robbie’s head.

The witch shrugged, wiggling even closer. 

“My Dad fell in love with a half-vampire, So I guess like-father-like-son. We both love the dangerous types, the ones who could probably kill us.” He furrowed his brow, still pouting. “But …If not love then what?”

“I saw what you could do, what you were going to be…My boss didn’t want you fighting on the side of the angels.”

Those hands, burning with blue hellfire, gently rubbed their thumbs across his cheekbones. 

“I just wanted a soldier.”

Robbie snapped his teeth instead, in a beautifully gory smile. A man who wouldn’t bow, who wouldn’t be tamed. “Funny, ‘cause if I remember correctly, I’m the one who wanted you.” 

-X-

Robbie knew that his Bapuji was sick, long before the adults bothered to tell them anything.

But they knew. 

At least poor Felix certainly did. The little boy could smell it, the same way the cats could. Sometimes he would have to cover his nose and mouth and run into another room to cry. Things were really really bad. 

For the rest of the kids it was just a suspicion, but it wasn’t hard to see the looming death-sentence with the way everyone else acted around him. Hell, around them. They weren’t that dull. 

Bapuji was always smiling though, smiling widely with all his teeth exposed, as he would ask them what they wanted for Christmas and their birthdays. Even if their birthday had just gone by. He went shopping over and over and over again. And sometimes he would spend hours in the garden painting. 

When Robbie found the little clutch of presents for each of them, hidden away in a room upstairs, with different dates and birthdays written on them in Bapuji’s careful hand, he stiffened and closed it again.

Running to his room before he burst into tears. 

He was thirteen years old, still in the stage of his platonic frenemy relationship with Amy, that was far more hate than anything else… although edging towards eventual begrudging acceptance. 

When he awoke in the middle of the night to the demon’s voice himself, shaking him awake, he scowled and almost cast a spell from sheer irritation but…

“Robert, your Roger is dying. He tried to…”

“…Turn, Bapuji.” His raw more-than-awake voice finished for the demonic entity speaking inside his head and he threw himself out of bed. “Shit!” 

Snatching up his rusted bloody athame, ceremonial knife, from the little locked box he kept hidden behind the wooden slats underneath his bed, and an old book that Amy had given him, after he’d used his own blood to sign his name on the first page. It had become his, the ritualistic Book of Shadows of a contract-witch. 

Then he was running down the hallways and a flight of twisty stairs as fast as his pink socked feet would allow him to do so. 

Cursing both the carpeting and Bapuji’s penchant for pretty things, every time he nearly tripped and flung himself into the sun with the force of it.

He knew the way to his fathers’ room, nestled as it was in the center of the house like a heartbeat, because he’d traversed the path multiple times a day, from the time he was old enough to be autonomously mobile.

Of course he loved his Mum, the way a child is always wont to do.

The same way he loved his Aunts and Uncles Joe and Phoebe. But his fathers were something else entirely.

Froggie, Bapuji, Dad, Brimi, they were his primary parents. Sure, his Mum was as well, especially on tour stuff, and the Uncles and Aunts had been loving on him since the day they’d arrived. But his relationship with those four was something special.

It no accident that he called his siblings, his siblings. 

Despite the differing blood in their veins.

He careened into that room with all the decorum of a battering ram, nearly taking his eye out with the fucking casting knife as his hip slammed against an end table near the door and shattered a fancy purple vase. Fuck.

He was just about to apologize too, on reflex, when he actually processed what was happening in the room before his eyes. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

Joe was shaking in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around himself and eyes shut against the world. 

Bapuji was crying at the end of the bed, held safe in Uncle Jim’s arms, turned away from where Robbie could see, all he could see was the hair… hair that was longer than he remembered, a lither body too… and the quaking shoulders as he sobbed.

Brimi was on the floor, legs tucked under him and staring at the carpet, not even making a sound. Like he’d just crashed there or something. Unable to move, think or even breathe. 

It was the scene on the bed though, that really made Robbie feel ill. 

Phoebe, Dad and his Bunic, his grandfather Vlad, were feverishly working over a corpse with fanned out dark hair and the same round features as Felix. 

Froggie.

But also not Froggie at all. 

Despite his chaotic entrance, it was if nobody had so much as seen him, a veritable ghost as he neared the bed, eyes wide and horrified, pupils stretched from corner-to-corner of his blue irises. 

His Bunic was biting Froggie’s arms and chest, over and over and over again. 

Phoebe was doing the same on his end, hoping that at least one venom would take hold, and it looked as if someone had tried to force the corpse, that thing lying akimbo that was once Froggie, to drink as his full lips were smeared with crimson blood. 

His Dad was doing CPR, pounding on Froggie’s chest with the whole of his body weight, as if desperate to get the dead heart beneath his hands to start beating once more.

It was utterly devastating to see. 

His Dad wasn’t normally good with emotions, unless it was anger or upset. But the man on top of Froggie was frenzied, sobbing so hard and screaming complete nonsense, that it was a wonder that he had enough air to blow into the corpse’s mouth at all. Forcing the chest up and down, up and down. 

But it wasn’t catching, it wasn’t doing anything.

That spark inside the corpse, that spark that had once made Froggie, Froggie, was just gone.

That thing wasn’t their Froggie anymore. 

His hand reached out, and he felt all of two years old again, reaching out for Froggie to kiss his booboos better, a tiny pale hand that always found a home inside a too-warm one. 

A slightly larger pale hand now touched that same skin and it was chilled like ice. He recoiled at the wrongness of the sensation. 

“Froggie.” He whimpered. 

Something that finally seemed to spurn the acknowledgment of the other living beings in the room. Although now it was Robbie who couldn’t look away from the dead. 

“Robbie.” Phoebe sounded strangled. “Robbie, please go back to bed.” A forced tearful smile that never reached his eyes. 

“…There’s nothing you can do.”

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” His Dad sounded utterly destroyed, his voice was wrecked and almost as bad as he looked.

“Well, I don’t give a damn about what he wants!” Blood pooled in Robbie’s cheeks. His teeth were gritted tightly and he flung his athame and blood book onto the bed, climbing up on his hands and knees to join them. “I’m going to save his life!” 

Vlad blinked at him, and those ruddy feral eyes honed in on the ritualistic items before him. His mouth falling open slightly in shock. Robbie could see the fangs playing peekaboo there.

Then his gaze turned back to his fallen son and he was resolute all at once. 

“What do you want us to do?”

His Dad was aghast. “Robbie, what are you on about?” A sad laugh as he stopped giving chest compressions and sat back with a tearful desolation about him. “Love, there’s nothing you can do.” He sounded like he was already dead. His father opened his arms for a hug or maybe absolution, but Robbie simply shook his head, setting his jaw tightly as he took his Book of Shadows into his arms. 

He opened it to a blank page and used the sharp edge of the cover to garner a drop of blood from his thumb. Pressing it to the parchment. 

Amy, I need candles for the circle and symbols of earth, air, fire and water to call each corner. 

Please. 

“Here you are, little witch.”

The candles were made of long strips of white and black wax, life and death, five that he set to one side, a vial of water (at least he sincerely hoped it was water), and a handful of …dirt.

Yes, of course, thank you so much Amy for this handful of old black dirt without a container. 

“Cheeky little brat.”

He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. 

Instead he snatched up the candles and all but threw them into his Bunic’s arms. “Here! Make a circle around the bed but don’t light them.” 

“What are you doing, darling? Where did those come from?!” 

His Bapuji’s voice sounded weird.

Not a bad kind of weird, but like he’d never smoked a ciggie before in his life or ever even gotten sick in the first place. Robbie turned over to see blood tears drying on a Bapuji that he’d only ever seen on old album covers, except this one had red eyes, fangs that stuck out farther than his existing teeth and a strange feral sheen about him, with the way he focused on everything Robbie was holding. 

The only thing the little witch could say was: “Oh God, it actually worked.”

The next thing was: “I summoned them. Please I’ve got to heal him, Bapuji. I need you to get Brimi off the floor and Uncle Joe out of the corner. Please trust me, I can do this!” His voice was verging on the desperate and his Bapuji must have seen something there, because he jumped into action. 

Uncle Jim helped as well, his Uncle Jim who looked at him in a way that he never had before.

Almost with something akin to fear. Fear of him or fear for him, the boy didn’t know.

“Bri, please get on the bed, love… Yes, there. Now that’s the ticket.”

“Joe, darling, come we can’t do this without you.”

It was only when they were all on the bed, looking at him in varying states of shock and confusion that he picked up his athame again. 

And used the sharpness to carve a pentacle into the soft pale flesh of his hand.

Blood welled up from the deep slashes in his flesh, like oil from the deep dark recesses of the earth. His Bapuji swallowed hard, turning away from the blood with the trembling form of a newly turned vampire, while his Dad cried out and snatched up his son’s injured hand with his own. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Trying to blot at the raw flesh as if to stop the bleeding.

Robbie snatched his hand back defiantly. Setting his jaw against the only person who could out-stubborn him. Their usual peacekeeper was a corpse between them.

“Robert Deacon!”

He completely ignored his father and turned to the group at large. 

“Join hands and don’t scream.”

He took the dirt into his own.

“I call to the guardians of the North! Children of the earth and new life! Hear my cry, bring back your son who cannot die!”

He spoke in a voice that wasn’t his own. But one that wasn’t Amy’s either, his casting voice was deep, raw and gravelly like it was being dragged up from the very pits of hell. Blue flames exploded in his palms to burn up the dirt, and the candles at the front of the bed lit up with hellish light. 

Then the vial of water. 

“I call to the guardians of the West! Children of the sea and change! Hear my cry, bring back one who cannot die!” 

Then he paused. Looking at the many faces pressed in a circle around him, looking at him like they never had before. Like in that moment he wasn’t their son, he wasn’t little Robbie Deacon anymore. He was a monster. A thing of nightmares. 

“I need something made of metal to call the guardians of fire…”

Instantly his Bunic was pressing a black steel ring with the face of a gargoyle into his hand. 

“I call to the guardians of the South! Children of fire and passion! Hear my cry, bring back a father who cannot die!”

Then he held his athame into the air, still dripping with his own blood. 

“I call to the guardians of the East! Children of air and loss! Hear my cry, save one who cannot die!” 

Suddenly the entire room was ablaze with hellfire, flames that wouldn’t burn anything except for what Robbie wanted them to. His eyes were closed as he reached out and laid a hand on his Froggie’s bare chest. 

“Lower, Robert. Find his iliac crest, where his blood cells are made. Wake up the marrow.”

He slid his hands down lower, to hug his father’s hips. Staining the icy skin with his blood. 

Under Amy’s careful guidance he forced the blood cells to reform, forced the vampiric blood in those veins to start jostling about once again. Fighting inside the body to manipulate it. To get that heart beating. He poured everything he had into it. 

Froggie holding his hands as he stumbled through his first steps, his first lost tooth, his first triumphs and his first defeats, his first crush, his first broken heart: all the milestones of his first thirteen years of life.

Dancing around the kitchen with socks as ballet shoes.

He never cared about his father’s unique lineage or the red eyes and fangs. He never cared about the baggies of blood in their fridge or anything that they couldn’t control.

His Froggie was always perfect in his eyes.

He always knew how much the family meant to his Froggie, but he also knew without a doubt, that above all else. They, he and his siblings, were the loves of Froggie’s life. 

Reading goodnight stories in funny voices to make them laugh, coming up behind them to sweep them up in his arms, tickling and kissing the daylights out of them. Spinning them around up on his shoulders.

Froggie would’ve done anything for them. He had even given his life for Bapuji. The purest kind of love was selfless love.

Love beyond all confines. 

Please. He doesn’t deserve this. Amy, please. 

He felt the small twitch and then how that deadened heart began to beat once again, slow at first and then in the frantic pounding staccato beat of a dhampir. 

Froggie’s skin grew flush with an uncomfortable heat, and his fanning dark hair began to lighten. Half-mast blue glassy eyes darkened to a crimson red, the milky haze fading away. 

Roger Taylor woke up screaming.  

Jackknifing up ramrod straight with full vampiric features displayed: wrinkled bat nose, elongated fangs and bloody eyes.  Alive, so fucking alive. 

Well, about as alive as the living dead could be. 

The flames on Robbie’s body were extinguished all at once, and he flung himself into his Froggie’s trembling arms, sobbing like he was three years old again instead of thirteen.

Clinging to that bloody skin and letting that too-fast heartbeat fill his ears with its heavenly sound. 

-X-

The fact that his dads’ bed was strong enough to hold all of them (Froggie, Dad, Brimi, Bapuji, Mum, Auntie Dom, Uncle Phoebe, Uncle Jim and Uncle Joe), was pretty spectacular, considering all of them were clinging to Froggie and each other, without the slightest thought of letting go. 

Dom tore his dads and uncles a new asshole each for not calling her once things went sour with the change (the one that apparently everybody knew about but him) and Froggie seemed to be reeling from the fact that he’d nearly ended up six-feet under. 

Robbie shook his head from where his face was still smushed into his Froggie’s furnace-warm chest. 

“No,” His voice was small, eyes still closed. “The living dead can’t die.”

His Bunic was sitting by the windowsill, a gentle smile on the young yet ancient face. 

But that smile faded when turned on his grandson, edged by a touch of knowing sadness. 

“Which one was it, guriță?” He asked softly, eyes shaded. “Which demon?”

Froggie was sitting up at once, looking at Vlad with bewilderment. 

“What demon, Dad? What are you talking about?”

Vlad gestured to Robbie, then turned fully to face the teenager. “Which demon did you sell your soul to, Robert?”

To say that all hell broke loose would be an understatement. 

He simply hung his head and spoke over the throng. 

“Avnas. And I didn’t sell it, I let him lay claim.” 

Vlad cocked an eyebrow, “A Prince of Hell? Well. I suppose you deserve credit for shooting high.”

“So I wasn’t hallucinating you being on fire?”

His Froggie sounded sick. Robbie just shook his head. Still not daring to raise his gaze from where it was examining the drops of blood on the bedclothes, ones that looked like rose petals spread across the plush duvet. 

“You’re thirteen years old! How in the hell did you sell your soul to a demon?! Why? What possessed you to do that?”  

His Dad looked livid and it was finally enough for Robbie to raise his head and glare with everything he had. 

“I was seven years old!” He wailed, fists clenched and tears welling up in his eyes. “It wasn’t exactly in my life plan, alright?” 

He whipped his head around to meet their stares head-on. “Yes! I’m a contract-witch, I let a demon lay claim on my soul to save my little brother’s life, to have the power to save all of yours, and I’d do it again if given half the chance!”

He was crying genuine human tears. 

“No need to worry about my damnation!” He let out a little hysterical laugh. One of his Froggie’s favorite words. “I’ve already gone and damned myself.”

His Brimi, his closet father at the moment, dragged him into a hug so crushing that he whimpered. The others followed suit.

He almost didn’t hear Amy’s sad voice, heavy and guilty in his head. He never knew a demon could feel remorse.

“Little witch, I am so sorry.”

-X-

Phoebe turned Joe into a lycanthrope once he started showing signs of having AIDS as well. 

They had been together for as long as Robbie could remember and he threw white petals at their little forest wedding in the backyard. 

Their family grew as he did, every years or so bringing more siblings with it. 

Josh came only a year or so after his first meeting with Amy. Luke and Cam were his Mum’s last foray into the baby-making front. And he was old enough to have fathered them himself by the time they came along. But he loved them all the same. 

Tiger Lilly and Rufus Tiger Taylor came after a family trip to Mexico. 

They were naguals, shape-shifters who could take the form of jaguars. Mesoamerican indian folklore called them protective spirits that guarded the rural villages from the dark sprits who lurked in the deepest parts of the jungle.

He called them his little pain-in-ass imps who were always underfoot, causing mischief with their half-transformed faces and bending Bapuji’s cat army to their will.

But beyond it all, they were his baby brother and sister, and he loved them thusly. 

Lola May Taylor was a Christmas baby, left on their doorstep like a little Christmas miracle.

Obviously her parents hadn’t realized that they’d chosen to leave their baby on the Addams’ family doorstep. (Or maybe they were more like the Munsters?)

She and Aunt Mary’s little boys completed their family. 

As years passed, he wondered how long it would be until Bapuji and Froggie would change Dad and Brimi. 

The answer for Dad was on a warm spring day in March, when he was in his late fifties. 

Curly hair shot with thick waves of gray that they teased made him look like The Bride of Frankenstein. He had been in the kitchen with Phoebe that morning, making a cup of coffee with Bapuji sitting up on the countertop stealing kisses, as the family all sat around the table and wherever else they could fit.

Hanging out during a weekend brekkie. 

When his father’s face had suddenly creased with a surprise pain, and the cup had fallen from his grip, shattering into a dozen pieces on the floor. They’d all watched it fall. 

Watched as their father collapsed to his knees, gripping his chest and curling inward from the pain of his heart-attack.

For an instant Robbie actually thought the older Deacon was bending down to clean up the mess. 

Froggie and Bapuji changed him on the kitchen floor, all of the kids huddled around like a horde of emperor penguins. Robbie ready to conjure, just in case. 

Dad woke up to his new life with everyone he loved watching with bated breath. Robbie would never get used to the way he looked like his vampire Dad’s twin. 

Brimi lasted the longest, he was in his early seventies when he came home from from a routine doctor’s visit with a set of test results in one hand and a clutch of freshly cut flowers in the other. They changed him in bed, all three of them together. Robbie sat against the door into the wee hours of the morning, listening, ready just in case. But he wasn’t needed. 

They were all okay. 

And it was only the beginning…

-X-

His Amy, his friend, his contractor, his demon, his lover, was a living, breathing demonic asshole. 

But Robbie had to give him credit, a living, breathing demonic asshole with morals. Nothing happened between them until Robbie Deacon was a grown man, a goddamn adult with a free-for-all choice of what he wanted to do to with his life. He didn’t owe anything to Amy or hell until the day he was steered away from the pearly gates. 

But they fell in love anyway. 

Even though demons were meant to never love humans. Even though he should hate the demon prince for claiming his soul like a greedy asshole who didn’t want him tearing Hell apart by the seams. 

They loved anyway. The truest rebels of all. 

“My little witch, my sunshine… I’ll burn the contact, take it all away, if you only ask.”

“No, this is my life. My choice.”

You’re my choice.

He didn’t say. He didn’t need to. 

It wasn’t ordinary. It wasn’t normal. But it was theirs.

They loved. 

-X-

“Mama, life had just begun

But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away…

Mama, ooh (any way the wind blows)

Didn’t mean to make you cry

If I’m not back again this time tomorrow

Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

…I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me

He’s just a poor boy from a poor family

Spare him his life from this monstrosity

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?

Bismillah! No, we will not let you go (let him go!)

Bismillah! We will not let you go (let him go!)

Will not let you go (let him go!)

Never, never let you go

Never let me go, oh

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Oh, mama mia, mama mia (mama mia, let me go)

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me…”

-Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody 

#maylor #frian #joger #froger #breaky #deacury #fic #submission #author: waywardrunawaycherryblossom #series: another one bites at dusk #au #roger: vampire #freddie: vampire #john: vampire #brian: vampire #extended family #relationship: polyamorous #relationship: established

[sylvesterbarzey]

5 Zombie Books For Walking Dead Fans

Okay, I know I've been behind on my Headshot blog and I swear it will be back and will be more weekly than before but until then I thought I would give you Walking Dead nuts a few books to feed your undead needs until the show comes back for Season 9 (Which may or may not be its last season, I'm just saying it's not looking good) So lets just jump into it shall we?

RISE OF THE DEAD (ROTD BOOK1) BY JEREMY DYSON

“Best New Zombie Books of 2016

Blake was never one for taking chances. He lived in a world of formulas and equations. A statistician in a controlled society where everything had become predictably mundane. That world disappeared the day the dead got up and began attacking the living. Now, the end is here. Blake finds himself fighting for his life in a world that is rapidly spiraling out of control. He struggles to keep himself alive and must risk everything to find his family. Along the way, Blake finds himself thrust among other unlikely survivors. Together they must adapt to the realities of the undead world, or join the legion of zombies. The characters must overcome their conditioned human apathy and come together if they have any chance of survival. Rise of the Dead chronicles the first moments of the zombie apocalypse. While the story is a fast-paced thrill ride through an ever-growing zombie horde, the novel aims to draw upon familiar themes as those found in the Romero classic films.

My Thoughts: When I first heard about this book I pictured David Krumholtz's character Charlie from that show "Numbers" Maybe that's just me, but I think Charlie would be awesome in the zombie apocalypse. Much like Rick Grimms and any real zompoc story, we have Blake fighting to survive in this new world and find his family. In fact, Blake is already better than Rick because he has a dog, who unlike that poor horse isn't future zombie food. I plan on checking out this full series when I get some time from writing, but since you're not writing a zombie novel, you have all the time to sit down and dive into Dyson's world.

ON AMAZON

THE DARKEST DAYS (DEATH & DECAY BOOK 1) 

BY R.L BLALOCK

To protect and serve. The motto that every officer is taught from their first day in the academy. On a humid June day in St. Louis, it is a motto that could get Officer Wyatt Ward killed. Desperate citizens flock to the station as the officers of the Cottleville Police Department struggle to handle the chaos that is enveloping a city already shaken by rioting. But as darkness descends something much worse is rising. The deranged. Brutal, unforgiving, single-minded monsters that were once the citizens Wyatt was sworn to protect. Now, they attack. They bite. They infect. As fear takes hold… As the city begins to eat itself… As the world crumbles… What is a man who is sworn to protect to do as the world dies? The Darkest Days is the first book in R. L. Blalock's Death & Decay series. For readers who love a gory, action-packed, zombie-infested stories. Start the series for free today!  

My Thoughts: One let me just say R.L. Blalock is an amazing person and author. I just got done with her interview on The Reanimated Writers Podcast the amount of work she puts into her books and her self-publishing business is amazing. Family, Full Time Job, Group Leader and Writer. Don't ever think you can't do it all, you just have to be willing to work for it. Now you have nothing to lose with this book because:

A) It's an awesome series to start

B) It's free!

Trust me, people, you can't beat this kind of deal. So go get you some undead horror today!

FREE ON AMAZON

BROKEN WORLD: A POST-APOCALYPTIC ZOMBIE NOVEL BY KATE L. MARY

Follow a group of survivors on a journey that spans eleven books and twenty years as they search for safety in a world overrun by the dead... When a deadly virus sweeps the country, Vivian sets out for California in hopes of seeing the daughter she gave up for adoption. Then her car breaks down and she’s faced with a choice: give up or accept a ride from redneck brothers, Angus and Axl. Vivian knows getting in the car with strangers is a risk, but with time running out, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to reach her daughter. The virus is spreading, and by the time the group makes it to California, most of the population has already been wiped out. When the dead start coming back, Vivian and the others realize that no electricity or running water is the least of their concerns. Now Vivian must learn how to be a mom under the most frightening circumstances, cope with Angus's aggressive mood swings, and sort out her growing attraction to his brooding younger brother, Axl. While searching for a safe place to go, the group meets a pompous billionaire who may be the answer to all their problems. Trusting him means going into the middle of the Mojave Desert and possibly risking their lives, but with the streets overrun and nowhere else to turn, he might be their only chance for survival...

ON AMAZON

My Thoughts: Anyone that knows me, knows I love a good Final Girl story! Women in horror are epic and this character-driven story of a mother stepping up to save her kid from a Broken World is such a good take on the Zombie Genre. Rick finding his family with the group of survivors he saved was awesome, now add a cross-country road trip to that and you have a massive formula for some apocalyptic awesomeness. Book one is free and it's also in audio for you book listeners (like me!)

A PLACE OUTSIDE THE WILD (Z-DAY BOOK 1) 

BY DANIEL HUMPHREYS

2017 DRAGON AWARD FINALIST - BEST APOCALYPTIC NOVEL

Eight years after Z-Day, the surviving remnants of mankind face the unknown. The fences and walls kept the ravenous undead at bay until they wasted away. A once overwhelming foe has turned feeble and weak, and a world gone wild seems ripe for reclamation. The scars of the long war run deep. And hope is a dangerous thing when the real enemy might just be the survivors themselves.

My Thoughts: I haven't read this series yet but I know two things, One I've been in love with this cover since I saw it last year and two It was in the running for a Dragon Con award! Being from GA and gearing up for Dragon Con this year, you know I'm hyped to read this one. While the concept feels more like Z-Nation because of the time Gap, the vibe of the story is real and dirty, much like the world of the walking dead. If anyone has read this one then please let me know what you think in the comments below.

ON AMAZON

UNDEAD ON ARRIVAL BY JUSTIN ROBINSON

Today is the last day of Glen Novak’s life. Five years after the end of the world, the few remaining humans are barricaded in a small vacation town on the California coast, beset by hordes of the undead. A single bite turns a man into a walking corpse. There’s no cure and no hope. Someone made sure Novak was bitten and now he has one day to put things in order, protect his people and, most importantly, exact revenge.

My Thoughts: So I'm currently reading this one and I love the opening. I really just get your heart going and puts the tension in the story right from the start. I'm not surprised that I would enjoy this book because it's written by Justin Robinson the winner of The Reanimated Writers Rumble. While I was knocked out in the first round (I think people don't like my R-rated dialogue or I just suck) Justin went all the way and he took on some tricky topics. If you haven't checked out his work, then head over to Amazon and pick this book up now!

ON AMAZON

WELL, THAT'S IT! FIVE AWESOME INDEPENDENT NOVELS FOR YOU WALKING DEAD FANS! I'M A Z-NATION BOY MYSELF BUT TO EACH THEIR OWN. I HOPE YOU TAKE THE TIME TO CHECK OUT THESE GREAT WRITERS AND IF YOU'RE LIKE ME AND WANT SOME LAUGHS WITH YOUR GORE THEN CHECK OUT MY CURRENT SERIES PLANET DEAD!

#zombies #zombie outbreak #zombie apocalypse #zombie #horror #horror fiction #horror writing #indiehorror #IndieWriter #supportindies #thewalkingdead #walkingdead #twd

[rachelannc]

THE LAST OF US: PART II (Naughty Dog/Sony PlayStation).

All I could say by the end of The Last of Us: Part II was, “Wow. My heart hurts so much right now.”

Touted as a tale of revenge, the game arouses conflicted feelings — and that’s what Naughty Dog, the studio that brought this long-awaited sequel, planned to do all along.

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

They want you to feel cheated. They want you to feel just as hurt, angry and driven to madness as a young girl would be upon seeing your father figure die right in front of you. They want you to hate the enemy from the get-go and make you play 15 or so hours walking in their shoes, while every piece of you bites your tongue as you know the game is emotionally manipulating you to gain your sympathy

It’s a complete mind f**k. And it wouldn’t be good storytelling if it weren’t.

From the output, I have to say, this is some of the most incredible gameplay and cinematic masterpiece of a game I have ever seen to date. The graphics are insane: from the way the characters’ faces, hair, clothing and movements are so real; the way their backpacks move so accurately; the way weapons are wielded and strapped onto your back; how your hair looks in the rain; how the grass moves when you walk and crawl through it; to the astonishingly impressive sights of snow, Seattle rain, beaches by the coast, green forests, horses, dogs and even babies. The transitions from cutscene to gameplay are so seamless (a lack of loading screens), and the soundscape created pulls you from periods of complete isolation and quietude in a quarantine, to the pulsating horror and screams that happen when you’re spotted by an infected or enemy.

THE LAST OF US: PART II (Naughty Dog/Sony PlayStation).

I have to add that, although I did grow up a bit of a nerd/gamer girl due to two older brothers, I do not have any video game systems and did not play the game myself (thank you TheRadBrad for his 50-part series playing the game through on YouTube, with no annoying comments, fuss or shrills, and for offering an entertaining and fair play through that captured all our thoughts).

As the game takes us through nearly 30-said hours of gameplay, the way it immerses you within the world — taking you through different narratives and timelines and flashbacks — gives it an entirely different level of depth and scope of understanding that gives the game so much life and richness.

THE LAST OF US: PART II (Naughty Dog/Sony PlayStation).

You start the game off with Ellie and Joel, the beloved duo from the first game. Ellie is our famed heroine. We learn the guitar from Joel with her. We explore Seattle through her eyes and begin to understand her world and the people around her. Her cheeky behavior and ultimate badass-ness is pleasant and we love it. The love between Joel and her is always at the forefront, which leads us to the first half of the game when we play through three days of Seattle, on her journey seeking revenge for Joel.

I won’t get into the itty-bitty detail of how the game continued to play out (as I’m assuming you’ve already seen and played through the game yourself if you’re reading this), but as we are forced by the game to play as said “enemy” Abby and see and experience the past three days of hell we had just witnessed through Ellie, we’re given some of the game’s finest moments: her weaponry and missions are far more interesting and fun; the storyline with the Scars is enticing; she makes friends with the enemy who saves her, by taking in Lev and Yara; we see her own hurt and anger being thwarted into sh*tty situations; we see her almost die multiple times; and she gets her own weird love story.

When Ellie and Abby fatefully meet, it almost feels as if these two girls should have been friends in another life (they deal with similar hurts and struggles, are contained by their environments and outside factors, and seem to be driven by the same values — love for their fathers, family and protecting their loved ones).

As we play as Abby trying to kill Ellie, we feel so messed up. We obviously don’t want to kill Ellie because we love her and she’s our gal. And the game doesn’t make it easy — we see just how swift and agile Ellie is, as we felt when we played her, and when Abby spares Ellie and a pregnant Dina toward the end of their feud, we see Abby have her own awakening.

Conversely, when we get back to Ellie and her life on the farm after their meet, she seeks out revenge for Abby again — this time putting her relationship with Dina and a nice, simple life on the farm on the line, when her battle was clearly already long-gone.

THE LAST OF US: PART II (Naughty Dog/Sony PlayStation).

Yet, the way the game shows Ellie’s continued PTSD and trauma, with flashbacks to seeing Joel’s face covered in blood, and even seeing her own blood, pretty much drives her to insanity and lose all judgment, only to seek pure bloodthirsty revenge.

The game definitely isn’t afraid to push limits. And it also isn’t afraid to show brutality, blood, and pure horror.

That last scene, I have to say, was so difficult for me to watch. It made me uncomfortable. It was horrific to witness. To have to beat up a physically worn-down and pretty much dead Abby on that ocean beach post, with all “swole-ness” gone and not even wanting to fight, it seemed like Ellie had already won. What was the point?

But that’s life. And life isn’t always so pretty. It can drive to insanity and desperation and darker parts of ourselves.

If Ellie or Abby had died, would it have been good?

Ellie is our heroine, yet we saw and played through her as she committed some of the most heinous crimes, literally turning her into a bloodthirsty monster. Abby is our villain and, although we didn’t have to like her, the game showed her through mostly a positive light, fighting and saving the kid Scars, fighting alongside the Wolves and supporting her community and friends, even as she went rogue.

If it weren’t for Ellie coming back for Abby, Abby would clearly have died. Ellie just wanted the option to kill Abby, and she could have.

A few lighter points

I’d be miss to not point out the fact that Ellie and her guitar are featured pretty prominently throughout the game (and I’d be a fool to not feel extra connected to her because of it). The guitar is a clear connection Ellie has to Joel, and one of the few things she has to remember Joel by.

I was a fan of Ellie singing “Take On Me” to Dina, and Joel teaching her “Future Days” — a song so telling and timely to their relationship (“If I ever were to lose you/I’d surely lose myself”). (I even covered both those songs on my Instagram/Youtube lol).

THE LAST OF US: PART II (Naughty Dog/Sony PlayStation).

The game tested us, pushed us to our limits and told the story in a beautiful, compelling, f**ked up and non-expected way. It was beautiful and brutal and played with our emotions. And that last scene absolutely killed me.

The terror of trauma, panic attacks, and what it can cause one to do, is one of the most lasting impressions this game will leave on me.

And to hell if a story doesn’t have the power to affect you, that much.

What are your initial thoughts? What would you have liked to see? And what would you like to see if there is a Part III?

Also, I enjoyed this look at understanding more of the thematic elements of Part II, in this video by Girlfriend Reviews below (thank you friend for forwarding this to me):

‘The Last of Us: Part 2’ Review: A dark and emotionally brutal masterpiece of a game All I could say by the end of The Last of Us: Part II was, "Wow. My heart hurts so much right now."

#2020 #Abby #Dina #Ellie #Game Review #Girlfriend Reviews #June 2020 #Naughty Dog #New Games #PlayStation #PTSD #Review #Seattle #Spoilers #Take On Me #The Last of Us #The Last of Us: Part 2 #The Last of Us: Part II #TheRadBrad #TLOU #TLOU2 #Video game