mount-and-do

Seattle Is Full of Cryptids

So I’ve been writing some trashy vampire fiction as stress-relief during finals, and it accidentally turned into a major world-building exercise and potential Novella and???  I dunno but I want to share some thoughts.

First, some universe specific things:

  • Vampire cannot “turn” Others without significant effort and/or a specific ritual.  being a bitten by a vamp is no more going to make you one or it;s thrall than being bitten by a st. Bernard is.
  • Monsters and Cryptids explicitly exist, but most of the world’s governments deny that they do for… reasons.  That I will get into later but probably have to do with tax law.
  • The two main characters so far are Marion “Red Charlie” Charleston, a vampire turned back in 1890 who made his fortune during the prohibiton era doing aggravated bootlegging for Roy Olmstead, and Alex (Alexander Byron Chesterson Jr.) who is more or less Marion’s live-in tech sspport/tax shelter.

OK, so onto the worldbuilding

  • Seattle is like, THE city to live in, if you want to be an Urban Cryptid
  • If you’re a vamp, the weather means you can go outside during daytime fairly often, or emerge dramatically from the fog p much whenever.
  • Not to mention a a high population of Vegans, which probably taste much less bitter due to the lack of dairy.
  • If you’re a were-whatever, it’s literally a half-hour drive/ferry ride to some of the densest, most isolated forest in the US so you can go bananas during your shift.
  • Aquatic or ocean based cryptid? PUGET SOUND IS RIGHT THERE.  Just stay away from the Orcas, they’ll fuck you up.
  • Bigfoots are the locals that complain about urbanization while getting fancy-ass coffee and exchange beard-grooming tips with the local hipsters.
  • There is Werewolf/vampires-that-prefer-to-shift-into-wolves/Vamps-that-prefer-to-shift-into-bats/Werebat Discourse and it is INTENSE
  • ok it’s not quite Seattle but THERE IS ABSOLUTELY A DRAGON ON MOUNT HOOD AND WE DO NOT FUCK WITH HER.
  • There are Kelpies, but mostly out in the san juans and rich neighborhoods where people are less suspicious and better marbled.   Most of the time though, they get into dumpsters and more than one Marion has run out of the house with a slipper at 2AM to keep them from knocking the garbage cans over.
  • cryptid-only bars warded against humans, not out of safety concerns, but OH GOD HIPSTERS ARE SO ANNOYING.
  • Forks is like, 2 hours away and everyone int he community HAAAAATES the twilight series- less about the interpretation of vampirism and were-persons, but OH GOD THAT’S NOT HOW RELATIONSHIPS WORK.
  • DO NOT  get them started on 50 shades, which takes place in seattle proper.
  • Mothman has SO. MANY. BRIDGES. TO. HAUNT.  and a part-time job as a cook at  Dick’s Drive-In.  She makes the best milkshakes.
Some Goretober Prompts

Made a list for @mushroomminded but if you fancy any of these, go for it. Interpret them however you want. I threw a couple of extra at the end in case you didn’t like the ones I listed or were just cool ideas I didn’t fit in the list.

1. Jack-o-lantern
2. On pins and needles
3. Fear of Spiders
4. Medieval devices
5. Baby doll / Everyone loves puppets
6. Contortion
7. Hardware store
8. Let’s go to the circus
9. Glitched out
10. Melting / goo
11. Barbed wire isn’t a toy
12. Multiple limb growth
13. Excessive dentistry
14. Insects inside
15. The machines take over
16. Crushed
17. Nightmare hospital
18. Crystal growth
19. Mushroom minded
20. You can do a lot with 28ft (the combined length of your intestines)
21. What’s wrong with your eyes?
22. Patchwork
23. Smile like you mean it
24. You weren’t using it/them anyway
25. Mouths in places they shouldn’t be
26. Spineless
27. Meat hooks
28. It hurts so good
29. Forced fusion
30. Silence is golden
31. Halloween feast

Extras:
- The chosen sacrifice
- Sticks and stones may break my bones…
- Dinner preparations 
- Mount Massive Asylum

Our group had too many issues with our paladin, so his player brought in a gnome with some special telepathic class. I don’t really know what it’s called. 

Gnome: My name is Austin, but my friends call me Kronk. 

The rest of us: Okay….?

Gnome to squirrel: What now, Kuzco? … Alright, I’ll think about it.

Dragonborn (ooc): Wait, your name is Kronk and your squirrel’s name is Kuzco? Oh my god…

We all went to buy mounts and…

Gnome: Do you have any female mastiffs?

DM: Of course. 

Gnome: I shall call her… Yzma.

Drow and Dragonborn (ooc): OH MY GOD. KRONK IS RIDING YZMA.

I’ve been rewatching the original Star Trek movies for reasons, and somehow I don’t think I ever really put it together that Kirk stole the Enterprise and ruined his career with no expectation at all that he was going to get Spock back. The whole plan was to get Spock’s body and bring it and McCoy to Mount Seleya to do whatever Vulcan mystic funeral they need to do to preserve his katra; they didn’t know about Spock’s body being regenerated until they got to Genesis.

So Kirk’s endgame here was to end up both widowed and dishonorably discharged, with no Spock and no possibility of ever sitting on the bridge of a starship again. That is: without any of the things that make Jim Kirk’s life worth living.

He didn’t sacrifice everything to save Spock. He wasn’t supposed to get a damn thing for himself out of this mission. He sacrificed everything because if there’s even a chance that Spock has an eternal soul, then it’s his responsibility. In death as in life.

She has no throne. Girls without thrones should not have knights, but hers won’t go. Princess Zelda – the girl who killed Calamity – would love to fade into legend, but Link’s bought a house, he’s fighting off monsters, and he’s selling giant horses to strangely familiar Gerudo men. She’ll never have any peace now. (ao3)  

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

do you think Lexa would have betrayed Clarke again like she did at Mount Weather if she'd survived ep7?

No, she wouldn’t have.

Lexa’s entire arc in season 3 is about regaining Clarke’s trust and working towards peace and unity. Grounders and Skaikru form a reluctant alliance in season 2, but the “us/them” mentality is still very much in place, and then Lexa’s betrayal fractures whatever progress they’d made. Now in season 3, what is the first plot point we’re introduced to with Lexa’s reappearance? Her desire to have Skaikru join her Coalition. In Lexa’s words

It’s entirely different from the alliance in season 2. Skaikru becoming the thirteenth clan in Lexa’s coalition means that they effectively become part of her people. Which means that A) they would be protected against external or internal attacks since Lexa’s main responsibility as Heda is the safety of her people, and B) there would be no point in a betrayal because they are part of the Coalition she created and swore to protect.

What did Lexa say to Clarke after she took the deal at Mount Weather?

“I do care, Clarke. But I made this choice with my head, and not my heart. The duty to protect MY people comes first.”

With her offer, she is making Clarke’s people her people. She is transcending the tribalism that has been the cause of most conflicts ever since the beginning of the show in favor of unity, stability, hopefully peace.

And this is only the political aspect of it all. Because you have to take into consideration Lexa’s feelings too. And this is one of the reasons I love this character so damn much: all her layers. She is smart, pragmatic, even ruthless on some occasions (as we saw), but she isn’t a robot. She feels so much, probably more than she would like since it caused her so much pain, and her feelings for Clarke are definitely one of the reasons she suggests that Skaikru enter the Coalition. Don’t mistake this for Lexa letting love cloud her judgement and making her do irrational things for the girl she loves. As we saw earlier, there’s a great deal of logic in Lexa’s suggestion. Honestly, this isn’t about romance at all. First and foremost, this is about Lexa having to do something awful (the betrayal) and not wanting to do it again. But could she promise Clarke that she’s never going to betray her again if her people always have to come first? No. So, she thinks about the one solution that allows her to both be faithful to her duties and, if not make up for what she did to Clarke, at least be in the position of not having to do it again.

This is what her vow is about really.

She can’t erase the past, but she is promising not to do what she did again. No more Trikru vs Skaikru, just one people. And no more betrayals. Sure, this last part is more personal, but nonetheless important. If anything it’s the most important aspect of Lexa’s vow, how personal and intimate it is. This isn’t just one leader swearing fealty to another. This is one person vowing to do anything in her power to not hurt the other person again.

Lexa literally puts her life on the line to stay true to her vow and push towards unity and peace, she eventually dies for it. So the core of it all is no, she wouldn’t have betrayed Clarke.

Some Questions for Your DA OCs

1) What techniques or spells do they tend to use a lot?

2) What is their preferred weapon?

3) Do they personally take care of their weapon and equipment if they don’t have to?

4) What is their favored mount (and why)? Do they like riding at all or do they prefer another mode of transport?

5) Do they enjoy fighting or are they just doing this to live and/or survive?

6) What kind of fighter are they: defense focused, offense focused, balanced, or flexible?

7) Do they like to play it safe or be extremely aggressive in a fight?

8) How good are they at weaponless fighting (i.e. hand-to-hand combat)?

9) How’s their aim?

10) Are they worried about hurting their allies by accident during combat or is it up to their allies’ responsibility to look after themselves?

11) What’s a weapon they either won’t use or can’t use?

12) A battle tactic they hate?

13) A battle tactic they love?

14) Will they assume command during a battle if their leader had fallen or are they better at following orders,

15) Best way to dispatch of an enemy, according to them?

16) Complaints they might have about their comrades. What annoys them, what endangers them, what don’t they like, etc.

17) Do they use poisons? If yes, what are these poisons?

Privileged (23/?)

Originally posted by bellsqueen

“With *yn* now trapped in Mount Weather, Bellamy will do whatever it takes to get her back. Despite horrible circumstances, *yn* is also reunited with close friends and is forced to finally face some horrid truths.”

Warnings: SO MUCH ANGST, torture, swearing 

Notes: Based on 2x11 “Coup de Grace” of the 100.


“You struggle again I knock your teeth out, get me?” The guard snapped.

Gritting her teeth she glared at him unwaveringly as the two men dragged her backwards into another room. 

“Put her in this one.” The other man spoke before the two hauled her up and tossed her into a cage, her back hitting the wire with a loud thud.

“In a cage, right where you belong.” The first guard smirked as he shut the cage door on her. 

“The second I get outta here I’m going to fucking slaughter you and everyone else in this mountain.” *yn* spat as she defiantly kicked the cage with her foot, rattling it as the guards began to walk away. 

“You hear me?” She shouted after them as they shut the door behind them, clearly unaffected by her threats. Letting out a defeated sigh *yn* slumped against the back of the cage and buried her head in her hands as she tried to keep herself calm and level headed.

“*yn*?” A shaky voice croaked out from her left. 

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4

Alright fuckers, it’s time to fuckin learn a thing! This here boi is Triboniophorus aff. Graeffi and he fuckin looks straight out of a fantasy book!! What the fuck?????? He is super rare, like what???! He thinks he’s too special to be common?? This special snowflake fucker ONLY lives on Mount Kaputar, so y'all are probably NEVER gonna get to witness his hot pink flaming body in person!! This here pretty boi grows up to be 8 inches long! 8. FUCKING. INCHES. How dare this boi get to be so big!?? What the frickling fuck who gave him the right!? Scientists had previously never heard of him because he’s so fuckin rare, but now they do and they’re just ?????? “Why is this gorgeous boy pink????????” They theorized that the bois used their pink color as camouflage to blend in with red eucalyptus leaves on the forest floor, but the lava boi chills at the forest-top where there’s no pink to be found! So why are they pink?? Because FUCK YOU that’s why! The laser pink limacine bois are pink because they don’t really have any predators and because they fuckin wanna!! Maybe you should judge your own life choices before you judge theirs!!??? So where the fuck are all of their natural predators?? WELL LEMME TELL YOU. Australia used to be a chill place with actually normal weather. Then one day Mother Nature™ said “FUCK YOU” and turned Australia into a desert dryer than a vagina when they get an unsolicited dick pic! Mount Kaputar, on the other hand, said “WELL FUCK YOU TOO!” and it decided to rebel against the rest of Australia and turn into a wet, swampy marsh! So the lava boi got fuckin stranded on the mountain while all of its predators were cut off from the mountain, so the boi was free to do whatever he wanted because nature basically created fucking Slug Heaven™ for the pink boi! But now do you wanna know what’s happening???? FUCKING HUMANS! Global warming is real and happening, and a change as little as 1-2 degrees will fucking DESTROY the flora and fauna of Mount Kaputar! DO YOU WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR KILLING OFF THIS GLORIOUS PINK BOI???????????? SO IN SHORT I LOVE MY PINK BOI AND I HATE GLOBAL WARMING AND FUCK THE HUMAN INFESTATION AND @ LARGE CORPORATIONS PLS SUFFER THANKS!

You’re On (Sirius Black x Slytherin Reader)

“Can you please write a real fluffy sirius x slytherin reader imagine? Where they hate each other at first but as the years go by they come to like each other? REALLY like each other haha. Thank you for your amazing writings btw I am obsessed xx” omg thank you so much!!! i loved this prompt and i hope it exceeds expectations! xx

You sighed as you felt a raindrop land on your forehead as you looked up to the skies, you were supposed to be getting ready for Quidditch practice, but seeing as how it was starting to rain you almost skipped out but you knew that the rest of your team would hex you if you did. I’m so over this childish rivalry, I just wanna be wrapped up in my blankets…

You had an upcoming match with none other than Gryffindor, as a Slytherin you were less than thrill because this meant extra practices, which meant less free time for naps. Nevertheless, you mounted your broom and started doing some laps as you waited for the rest of your team.

“Say, Y/N, if you fall, would you land on your feet?” a voice called out from the bleachers. You rolled your eyes and flipped off Sirius Black with your hand that was also holding your bat. Just great, you thought, he here to watch your team’s practice with his little posse, and the rest of the Gryffindor team. It wasn’t unusual for the other team to come and watch their competition during practice, it was mostly annoying because they would try to distract them, and now that Sirius was there with them, it meant that you would be his number one target.

You and Sirius were both in the same year, but you had never gotten along with the long haired boy, even when you were little, you two would bicker endlessly, driving both of your mother’s crazy. You were the only child from a very prominent pure blood family, and just like Sirius’s family, blood status was incredibly important to your parents. You remember watching Sirius’s sorting ceremony, how you gasped when he was sorted into Gryffindor whereas you safely sat next with the rest of the important heirs of pure blood families at the Slytherin table.

As far as you could recall, your years at Hogwarts with Sirius were less than amicable.

First year was spent throwing dirty glances towards one another, bumping into their shoulder a little too harshly when walking down the hall and of course, nicknaming each other some ridiculous named that would leave both parties grinding their teeth. He dubbed you Princess of Slytherin, and how you hated it. To get even with him, you call him Goldie Locks. That was four years ago, you were both currently in your fifth year both those names still annoyed you both to the core.

During second year nothing much had changed between the two of you, it wasn’t until third year after spending a summer vacation with the Black family and yours in the country side for a week that Sirius decided to make your life a living hell, and you retaliated.

You were coming back from Quidditch try outs, feeling particularly confident in yourself and how it went. You were turning down a hallway when suddenly there was a loud explosion and the air around you was a very bright and powdery green; you looked down at your hands and you noticed that they were also bright green. You were speechless, completely confused at what had happened before you heard laughter.

“James, don’t you think the Slytherin Princess looks lovely?” Sirius bragged to James, coming down the opposite side of the hallway.

“Sirius Orion Black, you have ten bloody seconds to get this off of me or I’ll hex you so hard, your great grandchildren will feel it.” you hissed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Hmm, I don’t know Princess, green really suits you.” before you could threaten him again he ran down the hallway, James following behind as you were left fuming and green.

 

“Oi, watch where you’re going.” You growled as Sirius bumped into you after Potions.

“And if I don’t? what are you gonna do? Run to mummy and daddy?” he taunted, you scoffed at him.

“What makes you think I’ll willingly talk about your slimy ways with them? We only associate with pure bloods.” you sneered. He said nothing more and left with a dark look on his handsome face. Truth be told, you hated the whole ‘pure blood’ argument, but if it meant getting Sirius off your back for a moment or two, you would swallow your pride and preach a sermon that you’ve always hated. Sirius had embarrassed you countless of times and it was time for you to give him a dose of his own medicine.

During your fourth year, you briefly dated Lucius Malfoy and that seemed to make Sirius go out of his way to intentionally bother you more than before. You would find your books disappearing from your dorm, robes that were discolored and once you spent a whole week with green hair thanks to his prank.

It wasn’t until Lucius ended things with you that the pranks and glares briefly stopped. After the break up, the marauders noticed how Sirius would glance at you more often and how he wouldn’t have a weekly prank just for you.

Sirius had developed feelings for you. He stopped with the cruel pranks, in fact, the last prank that he played on you was transforming into his animagus form. He literally came barreling into the Slytherin common room, grabbed your freshly done Transfigurations essay and ran off with it. You had to fight a dog for your essay and the dog won, ripping it apart. Needless to say, McGonagall didn’t believe you when you told her a dog ate your homework.

By the end of your fourth year, you were beginning to see the messy haired boy as less of a nuance, he didn’t prank you like he used to so now you found his pranks and jokes endearing.

Which brings you back to now, fifth year.

“I can’t believe you dragged us out here just so you could stare at Y/N.” Remus muttered to Sirius as they marauders held to their rain jackets tightly.

“Oh shut up, Moony, a little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Seriously, just ask her out already, you both seem to be mature enough to handle each other outside of a duel without killing each other.”

“Very funny, Prongs, and no, I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“I wouldn’t consider death glares in between classes something to cherish…” Remus said.

“How about this, if Y/N doesn’t knock out Lucius with a Bludger, I’ll ask her out.”

“Aw come on, you know she dated the git and still has some pent up aggression towards him, it’ll be a miracle if Lucius comes out of this practice without a bruise from Y/N.” James pointed out, but nevertheless, they shook hands with Sirius.

“If you don’t fulfill your end of the bet you have to cut your hair. All of it.” James smirked as Sirius’s eyes widened.

Much to his displeasure, Lucius managed out of practice unscathed. The Marauders pointed towards you as you made your way across the field and towards the locker room. He nervously made his way to you, this was not how he planned asking you out but a bet is a bet and he loved his hair dearly.

You were heading towards the locker room when a hand grabbed your shoulder, making you turn around.

“I guess you’re getting better at blocking me out, huh?” Sirius asked with a smirk.

“I’m in it to win it.” you shrugged.

“How about we make this game a little more interesting…” he trailed off.  You arched an eyebrow, prompting him to go on.

“If Gryffindor wins, you have to go on a date with me.” He declared.

“Is this some sort of joke? Listen if it’s because of what I said last year about being a scum and all that other pureblood nonsense, I’m truly sorry.” You apologized, you saw the look of surprise on his face.

“Wow, I can’t believe you still remember that, I mean I knew you didn’t mean it but that truly showed why you were sorted there, you’re cunning and know how to use your ‘opponent’s’ weakness against them.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You stifled a laugh.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Sirius Black admitted that I’m smarter than him.” You said good-naturally. He simply shrugged.

“So what do you say?” he asked.

“I swear to Merlin, if this is a joke…”

“I promise you, Y/N, this is not a joke. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Alright Black, you’re on.” You shook hands and felt a spark of electricity as your hand connected with his. Little did you know he felt the same thing.

“Come on let’s get you into something dry, I want to win this fair and square.” He said leading you inside the castle.

The days leading up the match were some of the most nerve wracking ones you’ve ever lived. Part of you was confused on these new found feelings for Sirius and the rest of you was hoping that Gryffindor would win.

You began to notice Sirius more and more; how his eyes would crinkle when he laughed or how he would doodle on the corner of his parchment during Charms. More than once you caught him staring at you which prompted you to blush. Who would’ve thought you would be crushing on your former enemy, but I guess it’s true what they say, people change.

The day of the match finally arrived and your team was ready to win, the game began and the stakes were set high. You wanted to win just to rub it in their faces but at the same time you did wanted to go on a date with Sirius.

The game was one of the closest ones you’ve ever played, you were currently tied and the rest of your team were basically praying for your Seeker to catch the Snitch, but lo and behold, Gryffindor catches the Snitch and wins the match.

Your team congratulated them bitterly, although Lucius flat out refused to acknowledge their victory. The field was soon filled with the rest of the students, a sea of green and scarlet running towards both teams, congratulations and laments were exchanged.

Amidst the commotion you didn’t notice Sirius coming up behind you, a pair of strong arms circled around your frame and spun you around.

“I believe you owe me a date.” Sirius exclaimed as he set you down, grinning. You laughed merrily. You looked up at him and acting on the rush of adrenaline from the game, you stood on your tip toes and kissed him softly. You could tell he was surprised but without missing a beat, he kissed you back, cupping your face with his hands.

You both broke apart after a few moments, smiling at each other.

I guess you were the first Slytherin to ever be thankful for losing a match against Gryffindor.

I’m Right Here

PROMPT : “I think you broke my fucking nose!”

REQUESTED BY : @angelontheinside 

SUMMARY : (Set in the beginning of season 3) Daryl and Reader go on a run together, attempting to find supplies for the group, when they come face to face with an unlikely threat.

WORD COUNT : 4,164

A/N : I am so incredibly sorry this took me so long to get out to you guys! I wanted my first fic here to be great, so hopefully, you guys enjoy it! Please send me in any requests for stories you’d like me to write featuring Daryl x Reader. ENJOY!

xx crossbowking

Originally posted by theultimatewalker

It was hot.

And not your every day Georgian heat — but a new level of humidity that had sweat dripping from every inch of your body the second the sun came up. You had lost track of the months as time went on, but if you had to guess, you’d say it was right about the middle of July.

With the way the world was now, the dead up and walking, humanity turning against itself, the least you deserved was a slight breeze.

“What I would do for a glass of ice cold water right about now,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Sighing, you readjusted your grip on the shotgun you held, scanning the abandoned parking lot for signs of movement.

The area was mostly clear — save for a couple of long since abandoned cars, stray shopping carts, and the half a dozen walkers you and Daryl had taken down moments before.

You joined up with Rick’s group a couple months back — they had just lost their farm and were on the run, attempting to find a safe haven to ride the winter out until finding a more permanent home.

As for you, you’d been on your own for a while — you were an only child and both of your parents had died years before everything went to hell.

After the world ended, you caught wind of a group that planned to make the trek to Fort Benning, unsure if the army base was still up and running. With no where else to go, it seemed like the smartest option for you.

The group of fifteen had only gotten a quarter of the way there before you started losing people. Some were torn to shreds by herds of walkers, a few were bit and had to be put down — others just lost hope and faded away. Before you knew it, you were the last one standing.

But then you met a group of people — a group of survivors. And everything changed.

You’d been taking shelter inside an abandoned house, trying to ride out the winter. You were dangerously low on supplies but the thought of going outside with no backup scared you more than starving to death. You’d been debating whether or not to scavenge the houses on the other side of the neighborhood when a scream came from outside, drawing your attention to the frost covered window.

You saw a group of people out on the street surrounded by more walkers than they could handle. A few of the men were fending off the dead with knives and machetes, forming a tight circle around other members of the group. One of the women, you realized in horror, seemed to be pregnant.

Part of you knew you shouldn’t get involved, shouldn’t draw attention to yourself. But a bigger part of you couldn’t sit and do nothing. Resolutely, you grabbed your shot gun and swung open the door. You spotted a walker creeping up behind a man with a crossbow strung across his shoulder and pointed your weapon that way, cocking the gun and pulling the trigger, landing a perfect headshot.

The man jumped in surprise, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on you. You let out a shaky breath at the intensity of his gaze, lowering your weapon slightly. A moment passed between you two, before he gave you a quick nod and stabbed the next walker he saw. With your help, the group was able to take down every walker on that street.

It took a little while for you to gain everyone’s trust and vice versa, but in no time, you fit right in with the group. Truth be told, you felt more at home with them than you had in a long time.

“Y/N?” came a gruff voice, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glanced backwards, locking eyes with the crossbow wielding man you later came to know as Daryl. “Ya good?” he asked, wiping his hands on the red rag he kept in his back pocket.

You nodded quickly, averting your gaze from his penetrating stare. “How’s the lock comin’ along?” you motioned to the chains wrapped around the doors to the grocery store the two of you were trying to scavenge.

“It ain’t,” Daryl heaved, tucking the rag back into his pocket.

“We can head back to the prison — see if T-Dog has any tools we can use?” you offered, hefting your shotgun up to rest on your shoulder.

“Can’t afford ta use up gas like that,” he countered, turning his back on you to peer in the window.

You sighed, closing your eyes and taking a breath. “It’s damn hot today,” you mumbled. “The world’s gone to shit, there are zombies trying to eat our brains, and I might actually die of a heat stroke. How embarrassing is that?”

Daryl huffed and cocked his head towards you, giving you a look. But you could see the humor in his eyes that never quite reached his face.

When you first joined the group, Daryl steered clear of you — you were completely convinced he hated your guts. But as time went on and you began to spend more time with him, slowly but surely, he began to open up. Not that he would bear his soul to you or anything, but every once in a while, the two of you would actually have meaningful conversation.

Daryl was a lot more intuitive than he liked to let on, but you could see right past that tough exterior. You found comfort in his presence, which was a hard feat to come by these days. Truthfully, you felt the safest when you were with Daryl — not that you would ever admit that out loud.

But a small part of you liked to think he already knew — by the way he would hover a little closer when the two of you left the prison. Or when faced against some kind of danger, he always positioned himself slightly in front of you without even realizing it. You never actually voiced how he made you feel, but you figured Daryl caught on. He had a way of reading you like no one else could.

“Ah, screw this,” Daryl growled, snapping you once again out of your thoughts. He pushed away from the window and grabbed the crossbow he had propped up against the building. “Let’s go ‘round back an’ try ‘ta find another way in.”

Nodding in agreement, you reached for your backpack and strapped it to your back, falling into step beside Daryl as the two of you made your way around the building. “Lori’s almost due,” you murmured aloud. “You think we’ll find any supplies here for the baby?”

Daryl shrugged a shoulder, scanning the area cautiously, always on alert. “Hope so,” he said simply.

Sighing heavily, you rubbed at the base of your neck where there always seemed to be mounting pressure. “Do you ever wish you weren’t here?” you suddenly asked, the question popping out before you could think about it.

Daryl’s steps faltered a moment before he grunted and shook off the surprise. “The hell kind a question is that?”

“I mean, do you ever wonder if any of this is worth it? The constant danger, losing the people you love,” you rattled, peeking a glance at him. “Sometimes I think about what it’d be like to not be here.”

Daryl’s steps slowed and you could suddenly feel waves of tension rolling off him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, feeling your cheeks turn red from your sudden revelation.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your elbow, pulling you to a stop. Your gaze landed on Daryl and flickered to where he held your arm. When you lifted your eyes back to him, you were met with his penetrating stare, expression unreadable.

His deep blue eyes trailed over your face, as if he was trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. A heavy moment of silence passed as the two of you stared at one another, an almost palpable current of electricity coursing through you.

Daryl cleared his throat, looking like he struggled for words. “For what it’s worth,” he finally spoke, his deep voice rumbling just above a whisper, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Before you could come up with a response, a rustling behind you tore your gaze from him. And just like that, the two of you were back in survival mode. Daryl came to stand by your side, crossbow aimed towards the trees as you raised your shotgun in the same direction. The rustling faded and all that was left was a heavy silence.

“C’mon, let’s keep movin’,” Daryl whispered as he crept along the side of the grocery store, you right on his heels.

The two of you rounded the corner and ended up at the back of the grocery store. You nudged Daryl with your elbow and nodded towards the broken in back door. Crossbow armed and ready, Daryl crept to the door and whistled, waiting to hear any movement inside. After a few moments passed, he motioned for you to follow him inside.

Immediately you were hit with a putrid smell, like rotting food mixed with rotting flesh, and you felt a wave of nausea. Daryl seemed to be equally affected and covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm. Ignoring the way your stomach heaved, you focused on breathing slowly through your mouth.

Using the butt of your shotgun, you tapped one of the empty metal shelves near you, the sound echoing throughout the large market. The two of you waited with baited breath for the sound of any other living or non living thing to make itself known.

After a few moments of silence, you released the breath you’d been holding and looked at Daryl. “I think we’re good to go.”

Daryl just grunted, which over the past few months, you came to interpret as an agreement.

“Why don’t you check out the back of the store and I’ll head to the front?” you offered, already making your way up one of the aisles. You didn’t get far before you felt Daryl grabbing your arm once again.

“Naw, I think we ought ‘ta stick together,” he admitted, his face drawn tightly.

“It’ll take us twice as long if we stick together — this store is huge,” you said slightly incredulous.

“I ain’t lettin’ ya go off on your own. This place ain’t safe, Y/N.”

You sighed, feeling your heart swell regardless.

Things with Daryl were complicated. The two of you had gone from barely speaking to being…friends? You’d like to think you were at least friends, but Daryl was hard to read. You never really knew where you stood with him. There was a part of you, one that you tried very hard to ignore, that longed for something more.

“We’ll be in and out,” you exhaled finally, resting your hand on Daryl’s arm, ignoring the way he tensed. “Promise.”

Daryl seemed to have an internal struggle, but eventually nodded, not looking too pleased. “Anythin’ happens, I mean anythin’, ya just holler an’ I’ll be there.”

“You got it, Dixon,” you retorted, giving him a small salute. Daryl just scoffed and rolled his eyes, but you could see the hint of a smile as he walked away.

Pleased with your small victory, you made your way up the aisle and to the front of the store. You surveyed your surroundings — noticing how empty the store already was, having been ravaged by other survivors. Deciding to start with the canned food section, you headed that way, keeping your gun ready to fire.

The aisle was almost completely cleared out, which wasn’t too surprising. You grabbed what little was left on the shelves — two cans of corn, one can of peaches, two cans of black beans, some kind of canned meat — and shoved them into your backpack. You hefted the bag back onto your shoulders and continued on.

From the back of the store, you could hear Daryl rummaging around and hoped he was having more luck than you were.

You were about to head to the toiletry section, when you heard a noise coming from the far right side of the store. Your heart began to race a little bit faster, nerves standing on end. Gripping your shotgun tightly, you took a breath and began creeping towards where you heard the sound. The rancid smell that laced the store began to get stronger and stronger, making your eyes water.

Suddenly, a low growl came from the next aisle and you slowly rounded the corner, discovering what made the noise.

There was a walker hunched over what seemed to be the remains of its last meal. The stark white tile floor was covered in blood and all that seemed to be left was bits of human flesh and bone. You felt bile rise to your throat as the walker feasted, unaware of your arrival.

Tiptoeing towards the biter, you softly rested your shotgun against one of the shelves and reached for the knife you kept strapped to your leg. Raising your weapon up, you came to stand behind the walker and with all the force you could muster, stabbed your knife into the top of its head. It stilled immediately and as you yanked your knife out, it fell to the floor.

You released the breath you’d been holding and stared at the corpse. What the hell has this world come to? you thought solemnly. Grimacing, you wiped the blood from your knife onto your jeans and decided it was time to get back to work.

Just as you were about to turn around, you heard the distinct cock of a shot gun directly behind you — and before you could process what was happening, the barrel of the gun was pressed against the back of your head.

You froze — a pit forming in your stomach so intense you couldn’t feel anything else. For a moment, no one moved…

Until finally, an unfamiliar voice broke through the silence. “P-put your hands up,” it spoke, a tremble leaking through.

As slow as possible, you raised your hands above your head, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat.

“T-turn around,” came the same shaky voice and you gradually turned to face the stranger.

What you did not expect was for the stranger holding you at gun point to be a young boy. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, eyes big and scared, face pale and thin. You could see the shot gun — your shot gun, the one you had set down just moments before — shaking ever so slightly in his tight grip.

“Let’s just take it easy, alright?” you said in a low voice, keeping your hands up.

“Drop the knife,” he retorted, motioning the gun towards the knife you still had clamped in your hand.

“Why don’t you lower the gun and we can talk —“

“I said drop the knife!” the boy shouted, taking a step towards you, hands still trembling.

“Okay, okay…I hear you,” you nodded, releasing the knife, it clattering loudly to your feet. “Now please, kid, just lower the gun,” you urged.

“Give me your backpack,” he responded, eyes darting around frantically.

You nodded again and slowly began to shrug off your backpack. Something about the kid seemed off — it didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt you, he was just desperate. “Look, I know you’re scared. Lower the gun and let’s talk for a minute,” you offered, holding your bag in one hand, the other in front of you.

The boy took a step forward and snatched the bag from your hands, shrugging it onto his own shoulder. “I-I’m real sorry about this, lady,” he croaked.

All of the sudden, he aimed the gun at your head and you saw his finger moved towards the trigger when —

“HEY!” a familiar voice boomed.

You saw movement from the corner of your eye and suddenly, there was Daryl.

The kid, having been distracted by the sudden appearance, turned his head just as Daryl tackled him into the aisle’s metal shelving and the two tumbled to the ground. You saw the shotgun slip out of the boy’s hands and fall to the floor. Daryl jumped to his feet, grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt and heaving him up.

Ignoring the fact that you were almost just shot, you launched forward and grabbed your shotgun.

Suddenly, a glint of silver caught your attention and you felt your stomach drop. During the scuffle, the kid had grabbed the knife you had dropped earlier and now held it just above Daryl’s head, ready to strike.

“STOP!” you screamed, cocking the shotgun and pressing it to the kid’s temple, everyone immediately stilling. “Drop it,” you growled, glaring at the kid who looked like he was about to pass out.

“I-I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —“ the boy stuttered, eyes darting between you and Daryl.

“Put the knife down, kid,” you repeated, softening your voice a little. After a heavy moment of silence, the boy dropped the knife.

You let out a breath and swung your gaze to Daryl, who was watching at you, breathing heavy, grip still locked on the kid’s shirt. His eyes traveled over you frantically, worry written all over his face.

The kid began to squirm in Daryl’s grasp, drawing his attention back to boy. “An’ what the fuck ya think you’re doin’?” he snarled, shoving the boy back into the metal shelving.

“W-wait, I-I’m —“

“You best be keepin’ your damn mouth shut,” he growled, just inches from the boy’s face.

“Wait Daryl, let him talk,” you finally spoke up, lowering your gun.

Daryl swung his gaze back to you, eyes ablaze. “This asshole jus’ held a gun ‘ta your head an’ you wanna let ‘im talk?”

“I-I-I I don’t…I’m…I didn’t —“ the kid began, before Daryl pushed him back farther into the shelf.

“Ya better start talkin’ ‘fore I kick your damn teeth out,” he hissed at the kid.

“I-I didn’t want to kill her,” the boy finally stammered. “I-I swear, I didn’t. I thought I had to. I didn’t —“

Before the kid could continue, Daryl reeled back and punched the kid square in the face, a crack sounding throughout the store. The boy howled in pain and dropped to his knees, cradling his face.

Blood streaming over his lips, the kid looked up at Daryl in panic. “I think you broke my fucking nose!”

“You’re lucky I don’t break your fuckin’ neck!” Daryl snarled back, before you jumped in front of him, putting both your hands on his chest to hold him back.

“Daryl, stop!” you pleaded, struggling to hold him back. You placed both hands on either side of his face so he would look at you.

His fiery expression faltered as he stared at you, taking in every inch of your face as his breathing eventually slowed and his body sagged slightly.

“I thought I lost ya, Y/N,” he mumbled softly.

You smiled, gently running your thumb over his cheek. “I’m right here,” you whispered.

Daryl didn’t respond, just leaned slightly into your touch.

A groan from behind pulled you back into the present moment and you looked down at the boy.

“What’s your name?” you asked softly, crouching down so you were eye level.

The kid looked up at Daryl with fearful eyes, before they landed on you. “Wyatt,” he finally whispered.

“Do you have a group, Wyatt?” you continued.

Wyatt nodded quickly, watching Daryl pace back and forth like a caged animal behind you. “We were runnin’ out of food, water, medicine…they sent us here for supplies. I didn’t know —”

Us? The hell ya mean us?” Daryl snapped, coming to stand directly behind you. “Ya mean ‘ta tell me there’re more of ya pricks here?”

You watched the color drain from Wyatt’s face, his gaze traveling to where you had killed that walker earlier — the walker that had been feasting on its latest meal…

“Not anymore,” he squeaked out, staring at the mess of blood and gore.

You sighed heavily, rubbing the base of your neck. In any other scenario, this stranger would’ve been dead. If Daryl hadn’t killed him, you would have. In this world, it was kill or be killed — something you learned the hard way over time.

But this kid was different. He was just a kid. He was just trying to keep his group safe and you could understand that — it was scary the lengths you yourself would go to protect those you loved.

Turning your head, you stared up at Daryl. You would do just about anything for that man. Hell, you almost shot the kid trembling in front of you for him.

Sometimes, you had to make tough choices to keep your people safe. And other times, a little humanity never hurt anyone.

You reached for your backpack that had been thrown to the ground during the fight and unzipped it. Pulling out a couple of the cans you had just found, you set them down in front of Wyatt, who watched you with big eyes.

“The hell you doin’, Y/N?” Daryl questioned — not accusingly, more in confusion.

You just gave him a reassuring smile, before adding your knife to the pile. “Listen to me very closely, Wyatt,” you said, grabbing the kids attention. “If this were to happen again, some people may not be as understanding as me and my friend. But I get it, okay? You were just doing what it takes to survive,” you paused, glancing up at Daryl meaningfully. “I would do the same thing for the people I care about.”

Daryl stared down at you, his expression a mixture of understanding and something else you couldn’t quite place. He cleared his throat and reached a hand down towards you. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

You took his hand and stood up, lingering just a second before pulling away to strap on your backpack and grab your shot gun. Wyatt stared up at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

You moved to stand beside Daryl who was stringing his crossbow over his shoulders. He stared at Wyatt, before crouching down a bit. “I want ya ‘ta count ‘ta two hundred and then get the hell outta here, understand?”

Wyatt nodded quickly, wiping at the blood dripping down his chin. “T-thank you,” he finally spoke, gathering the items you had given him into his arms.

You gave one last encouraging nod to the kid, before you and Daryl headed outside, welcoming the fresh air. The two of you hurried around the store, keeping your weapons up as you jogged to the car parked in the front. Finally reaching the vehicle, you tossed your bag and weapon into the back, hoisting yourself inside and slamming the door shut, Daryl sliding into the drivers seat.

As the adrenaline began to wash off you, a heaviness settled over your mind. The reality of what almost happened hit you like a truck and you felt a shiver run through you. You could feel Daryl watching you but kept your own gaze trained ahead, focusing on slowing down your breathing.

But no matter what you did, you couldn’t calm yourself — it had been too close. Way too close. And your heart wouldn’t stop beating a mile a minute in your chest.

You let out a sigh, feeling the breath hitch in your throat. Suddenly, Daryl’s warm hand was squeezing your shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing your attention to him, “you’re okay, Y/N.”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, i-it’s not that,” you admitted, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I-I thought…when I saw that knife above your head I just…I…” you broke off, the feeling of complete terror consuming you.

And then suddenly, you were being pulled into Daryl’s arms.

He wrapped both arms tight around your shaking frame, holding you against his chest. After the surprise of rare affection from him wore off, you found your arms snaking around his waist, holding him just as tightly. You immediately felt calm, his steady heart beat and warmth grounding you. It may have been your imagination, but you thought you felt him place a light kiss to the top of your head.

“I thought I lost you,” you mumbled into his chest, thankful he couldn’t see the blush creeping over your cheeks or the warmth spreading through your heart.

“I’m right here,” he murmured softly, the words rumbling through his chest as he moved one hand to cradle the back of your head. “Imma always be right here.”

lucy-on-art  asked:

Voltron pjo Au. Is Zeus now angry or furious on the monsters for hurting his son Shiro. I know he is! Including Hades?!

[Voltron PJO AU] One of the rare times Hades visits Mount Olympus to do some business with Zeus, he got to see something terrible. In front of them on screen was Hephaestus TV once again and on the channel that showed Shiro and Keith saving a demigod. 

Zeus’ stopped whatever he was doing when he heard the scream that was coming from the son of Hades. He saw his son, Shiro, get his arm ripped out of his body in such a barbaric manner. Then the son of Hades released his powers that obliterated everything.

Everyone was quiet at the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Oh my poor handsome brother,” Apollo said to break the silence, looking at Shiro on the screen. “Did you know your son could do that?” Apollo asked Hades.

“He wasn’t supposed to unlock it until such a later age,” Hades hummed. “Keith keeps surprising me. He killed 6 chimeras on his own at the age of 11.”

“Six? A demigod could hardly handle one!” Apollo gasped.

“He’s my son,” Hades smiled proudly.

“Of course. The Big Three Kids a.k.a. The Big Shots.” Apollo rolled his eyes fondly, as if he wasn’t one of them.

Zeus was too quiet until everyone noticed he stormed out of the room. Apollo was about to follow his father when Hades stopped him. “I’ll handle this.”

Hades found Zeus overlooking the camp, his fist clenched as if ready to murder someone with his own hands.

“If you’re that concerned of your Golden Boy, you could always visit him,” Hades said softly. 

Zeus just scoffed. “Please, I’m not that concerned. This happens all the time to demigods.”

“True,” Hades agreed without missing a beat. “Demigods die all the time. They get hurt all the time and gods could always just have a new one to replace the ones who died. Like clockwork. As if their lives mean nothing.” He paused to look at his brother who loosened his grip. “But that’s not the case for us and Poseidon now, is it? Big Three children are rare, even more so Big Three’s who survive and reach the age 18 and 20.”

“Where are you heading with this, Hades?” Zeus sighed exasperatedly.

“Visit your son,” Hades simply answered, as if it was that obvious. 

“I can’t do that. We’re not allowed to do that.” 

“True, but I still visit my little bat—monthly,” Hades smirked. “I know you’re the god of the gods, dear brother of mine. If the other gods see you break your own rule, you’re going to lose their respect. I get that. That’s why I don’t care about those rules. I rule the Underworld, I have my own rules. No gods even go there, aside from Hermes and Persephone and her mother, so no one to actually put a face on for. But you see, Keith, my precious boy. He’s the only one I have now in a while and as much as possible I’d like to be the father he deserved.”

Zeus didn’t say anything so Hades continued. “Our children don’t get to live long, Zeus. You know that very well. Your son could’ve died today if it wasn’t for Keith. You could lose him tomorrow for all you know.”

“I haven’t seen him since he was five,” Zeus finally said.

“All the more reason for you to visit your boy, don’t you think?”

—-

Keith was sitting beside Shiro on the bed, his arms around him as they read a book. He was trying to make Shiro go to sleep when suddenly someone joined them in the Zeus Cabin. Keith looked up and was shocked to see the god of the gods himself.

“Lord Zeus,” he whispered, as he nudged Shiro’s shoulder, the human one.

That made Shiro look up to see his own father right in front of him. He opened his mouth and closed it again, gaping like a fish. 

Then Keith noticed dark shadows in a corner and he saw his Dad materialized, his finger on his lips to tell him to hush it. He detached himself from Shiro but not before he whispered “Good luck,” then with a gentle kiss on his cheek, Keith joined his father in the shadows. 

“Hi, Dad,” Shiro said, sounding so bewildered that finally his wish came true.

“Son,” Zeus said.

Keith smiled so wide upon hearing that and he gladly took Hades’ hand in his and they both were swallowed by the shadows after Hades gently kissed him on the forehead.