#all of you just walked straight into their trap! so now you have to suffer the consequences of your foolish actions!

[themeeplord]

(Continuation of this post)

Once the prey has been successfully lured and captured, it will be wrapped in a cuddle cocoon and thoroughly nuzzled, hugged and kissed until the vicious beast is satisfied.

This step can take up to several hours.

@naffeclipse it continues >:3

#all of you just walked straight into their trap! so now you have to suffer the consequences of your foolish actions! #hope you have nothing planned for the next few hours #fnaf sb au #cryptid au #cryptid sightings #cryptid!sun #cryptid!moon #art #my art #sketch #doodle

[girlokwhatever]

can you do like reader is mad at paige n paige yk the attitude right outta her?

CERTAINLY I CAN!!!!

⋆·˚ ༘ *𓍢ִ໋₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆𖡎 are you done yet? ,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

you’ve been wanting to leave this club for the past hour.

the crowd was large when you got here, but since then it’s only grown. the air is hot and tacky, causing you to stick to each person you pass. it was nasty really, even worse on the dance floor.

your feet were aching and the lace from your top was scratching against your chest, only adding to your discomfort. a sheen layer of sweat covered your skin from head to toe and it seemed everyone else was experiencing the same thing.

you were just leaving the dance floor, jostling around larger bodies to get to the bar where you last saw your girlfriend. she had been talking to some guy about basketball when you’d left, but now she’s replaced her company for a woman around your age. you were slightly jealous and definitely angry. she had barely paid you any mind within the past hour, constantly occupying herself with other people. even after you tugged on her hand and asked her so nicely if the two of you could just go home.

that was an hour ago though. your desire to leave only grew in the time frame, as well as your annoyance.

you walked straight to paige, trying to find your balance among the numerous bodies. there wasn’t really a chair available, so you opted for leaning against her, one hand at the back of her neck and the other adjusting your top.

“hi baby-“

“can we go?” the abruptness of your question shocked paige. her eyebrows raised and she gave you a ‘really?’ look. you’re deadpanning though, attitude written across your face in neon bold lettering. if she wouldn’t take your hints earlier, you’d stop dropping them.

she’s pulling you between her and the bar and onto her lap. though it relieves the aching in your legs and feet, it’s not really what you wanted. she’s leaning up, lips just behind your ear and muttering a quick “don’t be a brat.”

you roll your eyes at that, finding her antics absolutely ridiculous. you’d been here with her all night, letting her enjoy herself while you suffered. you usually didn’t mind going out and having some fun; the club tonight had been too packed for you though. everywhere you went, every time you turned around, there was someone within whispering distance to you.

at this point, you stop considering the consequences of your actions. you grab her car keys out of her pocket and leave the club. paige is absolutely flabbergasted, excusing herself and following behind you with haste. she feels her body grow hot with anger watching you walk away from her without so much as a look back.

why were you so pissed?

her stride is much longer than yours so she’s catching up to you in no time. she grabs your wrist and her keys simultaneously, turning you around and stopping you in your tracks.

“what the hell is your problem? hm?” she emphasizes her point with the tight grip on hour jaw, staring straight at you. you’re both tipsy, you more so than her, and it throws your usual rationality out the window. you push her away from you, watching with satisfaction as she stumbles back a step.

she makes you so angry but fuck does she look good. you’re scoffing right to her face and doing it loudly. as though her feelings are ludicrous, completely irrelevant and wrong.

“my problem?! you know what- whatever. you stay here if you want. i’ll walk home. need a break from you anyway.”

if you had left the last part off, paige wouldn’t have been as mad as she was. in all honesty, she would’ve just taken you home peacefully after giving you a kiss and apologizing for keeping you here so long. but, you did add the last part. you looked your girlfriend in the face and told her you were tired of her.

“say that again, i dare you.” her tone is taunting and you know it’s a trap, but you do it anyway.

“you’re getting on my nerves and i need a break from you.” you’re punctuating every word, but little do you know it’s only fueling your girlfriend.

as soon as you say it you’re being pushed into the backseat of her car. she’s climbing in after you, closing the door as she tries so desperately to fit her frame into the small space. paige pulls her loose hairs into a bun, leaning over you once she’s finished.

“wanna act so fucking tough and mean- gonna get rid of your attitude baby. till all you can say is my name.”

“i bet you couldn’t.”

oh. challenge accepted.

your skirt is hiked up, panties pulled to the side as paige prods you with her fingers. she notices the way the street lamp makes your cunt shine from your wetness, smirking at your situation. she’s knees deep into the backseat, pushing two fingers into you at once.

you cry out at the new and sudden stretch. she doesn’t give you time before her fingers thrust roughly in and out of you at a brutal pace. they’re curling inside of you, already finding the spot that makes your back arch to heaven.

“you like that?” you say nothing, make no motion of acknowledgement. smoke is blowing from her ears at this point, not able to believe how stubborn you’re being right now, even as she plunges her fingers into your sopping wet cunt. your silence only motivates her to speed up, because sure, you didn’t say any words, but your loud moans spoke for you. your body is so responsive to paige, it always has been. every time she touches you, you lean into it. every time she kisses you, you’re chasing her lips when she pulls away.

just like right now. the way your core tightens and she feels it, moving away and watching your hips follow her fingers when she denies you your orgasm. you’re protesting, begging for her to continue and cryimg out her name like a chant. your hair is already a mess and your girlfriend’s heart pounds, using every bit a restraint to stop herself from giving into your pleas.

“are you done being a brat yet?”

“paige-“

“apologize and i’ll let you cum, how does that sound?” she’s rubbing and kissing your thighs, watching the way you squirm at the proposal.

even from her position between your legs she sees the battle you’re having with yourself. she almost thinks for a moment you’ll brave the storm and say no, but deep down she knows there’s only one option for you. she can tell by the way you push your hips into her face.

“i’m sorry paigey. i was.. fuck- i wasn’t being nice. i’m sorry for being mad and giving you attitude.” your voice is weak and it’s turning her on so much to hear you like this, begging for her completely. she doesn’t know how genuine your apology actually is, but she doesn’t care either.

her tongue twirls your clit, gentle and slow to tease you. it’s excruciating, the feeling making you screw your eyes shut as your mouth falls open. you’re moaning her name out too, just like she said you would be.

she’s sucking on your clit now, toying with it and gauging your different reactions to different movements. she knows what you like already (nearly everything from her) but the look of pure ecstasy on your face will never get old. you grind your hips down onto her face, desperate to find your release. you can feel it tightening in your stomach and making your head spin, but just as quickly as it came, it’s being ripped away from you.

paige is sitting upright now, readjusting your clothes and wiping around her chin where she feels the remains of you. she’s licking her fingers and lips clean, staring at your shocked expression, one singular tear rolling down your cheek.

“what’s wrong baby?”

“you said-“

“should’ve thought about it better honey. i’m jus’ giving you space since you’re so tired of me. just like you wanted right?”

you don’t miss her shit-eating grin as she leaves the backseat. she plops into the driver’s seat, glancing back at you momentarily. she places a hand on your thigh and it makes you jolt at the sensitivity, legs aching more now than they were before.

“i hope it’s everything you wished for and more.”

*♡∞:｡.｡˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

paige is sassy and mean but what’s new??!

anyways, hope you enjoyed 😘

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

[barneswinterraven]

Size

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: he just wanna make sure he gets the right size

A/N: my last fic was angsty so i thought to write some kind of crack fic. i do appreciate if you guys can comment your thoughts, or simply just like and reblog ❤ *not proofread*

Y/N groans as she lies down on her stomach, trapping the heated bag of water right on her abdomen.

At this point, she was done cursing all of those who look down on period pains and was now having an internal argument with God for giving women a body part that literally sheds itself, just because some eggs were being bitchy about not being fertilized.

"Y/N, sweetie, is there anything I can get you to help?" Bucky can only imagine what she is going through, and if he can only take her pain away, he would do anything just to do it. The only thing he can offer as of the moment is to lay beside her and massage her lower back for some comfort.

"Well how about you go and ask God, why the fuck He created women to suffer every month just because she ain't pregnant" Y/N sighs as Bucky chuckles at her words.

She suddenly stands and heads to the bathroom when, "Fuck!"

Bucky shoots up right away to check on Y/N, worried that she got hurt, as if she wasn't hurting already.

When he got in the bathroom, his heart broke from the view: Y/N clutching an empty pack of pads with tears welling up her eyes.

"I forgot to buy more of them and I just can't walk all that way to the store," some tears were already falling from Y/N' face while she was pouting.

It hurt Bucky to see her like this but he also adored how cute she looked. "Doll, don't worry about it. I'll run to the store and get more for you"

He lightly kisses Y/N and wipes away her tears leading her back to lie down again on their shared bed. And she can only hiccup a small thank you to him.

Once Y/N had settled back down on the bed, Bucky grabbed his jacket and wallet right away to go on his personal mission: get Y/N her pads and maybe some of her favorite snacks.

Y/N watched him then go straight to their closet and furrowed her brows. "Bucky, why are you going through my underwear?"

"Oh I was just checking your size, so I know which size of pads to get for you."

What.

It took a while for Y/N to process what Bucky had said and when she did, "Uh honey, how do you think pad sizes work?"

"What are you talking about? Doesn't come in sizes based on the size of your... cooch?" It was Bucky's turn to be confused.

And for the first time since she woke up that day, Y/N forgot about her pain and laughed heartily.

"Bucky the sizes are for how heavy the flow of the period is."

Bucky looks at her like she has grown an evil twin head and tilts his head. And all he can reply is "Oh"

At the end of the day, Bucky Barnes was not only avle to buy the right pads but also succeded in making Y/N laugh despite her pain.

#my writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic

[kingmagnificoofrosas]

I just cannot get over this one kid in the cinema who went "But he isn't evil!"

We are talking children here! Children don't really know or understand anything about ptsd and trauma (mostly, yet) they just observe! And if a KID between the age of 5 and 10 observes Magnifico and can read between the lines and conclude he isn't evil, what excuse does that leave for haters calling him one?

Now, more analysing cause you've been loving those and I enjoy doing them 🛡⚔️ (I might repeat some points but in a alightly different way)

Every single arguement I've seen haters or anti-Magnifico people make so far was either straight up stupid, ignorant, uneducated, defiant, baseless and or senseless. And then we also have the hardcore Amaya/Asha fans who just go on hating on Magnifico just "because!"

Or those who go "He's the worst villain ever." Yeah, Sherlock, maybe thats because he isn't one? 🤨 Like, seriously, you take Magnifico, compare him to aaaaall the REAL villains like Jafar, Frollo, Scar etc. And you wanna tell me he was anything like them because his trauma forced him to get himself posessed by evil trapped in an evil book and only went bonkers after he was literally posessed? And his sole motivation was to protect and keep safe at all costs ?

And then come the arguements 🫴🏼

"He's vain and narcissistic!"

Because he acknowledges the fact that he's handsome and like's to see himself in mirrors? 🤨

"He didn't grant every single wish! He shouldn't have kept them."

He didn't grant every single wish because of his trauma caused fear/paranoia and kept them for the same exact reason. However, he always meant well.

Yes, I agree that a traumatized person shouldn't be in any leading position, nor should they be in the position of making important decissions. But lets take a look at his motivations and goals again!

His motivations :

- Never have anyone suffer a fate like he did

- Never have people have to see their hopes and dreams get shattered

- Never have his past repeat

Quote - "Everything I do is to make sure that never happens again!"

His goals :

- Protect and keep people safe

- Make sure people live happy, content, free of hardships and strive

Further comparisons

All the other villains when singing - Sing openly about their evil plans, desires etc. showing they're evil!

Magnifico when bursting into song :

"promise as one does, I will protect you at all costs. Keep you safe here in my arms. I will protect you at all costs."

"If you're ever feeling like you're lost, I'll come find you. Man all fronts, there's no ocean I won't swim across to be right by you. And not just once, here and now I swear on my response. I'll remind you-"

"I let you live here for free and I don't even charge you rent. I clean up all your messes and I'm always there when you need to vent. I give and give and give and give, you'd think they'd all be content. And all I really want is just a little respect."

Back to the arguements Anti-Magnifico people make and even more comparisons ⬇️

More for the vain and narcissistic

Gaston - treats everyone like trash and thinks the whole globe spinns around him only. Doesn't care if he walks over dead bodies looking good.

Evil queen - Wants to kill her stepdaughter because she's prettier than her.

Mother gothel - Kidnaps the baby princess, locks her up because the magic hair makes her stay young and pretty, doesn't give a toot that the king and queen are suffering immense heartbreak and guilt. And to keep the princess locked in, gaslights and belittles her.

And then we have Magnifico ✨️

"I'm handsome and I know it." Likes to look at himself in the mirror and is happy and content with his looks. Hurts not one single fly with it. Doesn't put others down.

"He's power hungry!"

Why did he want to keep his power? - Because he was terrified if he would lose it, he wouldn't be able to protect anymore and his past would repeat.

"He threatened everyone and destroyed wishes!"

Again, he was posessed? Do people understand what posessed means? Amaya knew this book would control him! Not him controling the book!

In the end, I don't even care for people who disagree with me. But one thing I just don't get is : Why are some people so out to prove to us Magnifico-defenders that he's evil? Like, are these guys for real? We push forgiveness and love and the other side pushes hate, ignorance, unforgiveness and bitterness. Why does someone feel the need to spread negativity rather than positivity?

I won't stop defending Magnifico 🛡⚔️🩵

#king magnifico #disney wish #wish 2023 #team magnifico #magnifico defenders #king magnifico isn't a villain #brainwaves aren't waving #haters gonna hate

[cat-mentality]

PLS ELABORATE ON THIS [the theory on which eggs fit which sins]

OKAY BUCKLE UP ANON!!!! This is straight up tin foil hat territory, i'm just like manifesting from nothing because it is incredibly fun in my mind

For this to make a little of sense i'm going to consider Purgatory as my catholic school taught me- A place where the sinners go to repent to their sins, either for all of eternity, if the sins are too big or too terrible, or until they have been forgiven and i'm taking Dante's inferno as my guideline on how this whole thing operates.

I'm also going with the theory that Black Cucurucho was the one responsible for taking the eggs/scaring them away, maybe to make them vulnerable and fall on his trap, is my personal theory that the Black Cucurucho is literally the anti-Federation, as in order versus chaos and as such he is looking to destroy everything the Federation is building and using the egg's to do so (and also Cellbit!!! If it's not the Rebels giving him the information i bet on Black Cucurucho more than the Feds themselves).

So, basically: The eggs get kidnapped by this new strange force (not evil per say, not more than the Federation itself, but less interested in pretending not to be, like the Anfitrião in Ordem Paranormal) and they get stuck in Purgatory, who is made by 9th circles, divided by the type of sinners they are set to punish. The tickets are the passage to get into the circles, Virgil acted as Dante's guide in this case the train will be responsible for taking them from one circle (island) to the next IF they manage to complete whatever task will be set in their way.

I believe the placement of each egg (in my delulu head) has less to do with their own sins, as the Black Cucurucho is not really interested in them but rather in the suffering he can inflict on the parents using them, but in the mortal flaw he sees on their parents.

Chayenne i would put being stuck in the 1st circle, Limbo. It's the less worse of the nine as it is the place where the unbaptized and virtuous pagan stay, endlessly walking in eternal darkness.

Why you ask me?

Well Chayenne IS the son of the Angel of Death. His other father is also a being blessed by death (or cursed with life, your pick). He worships the Blood God. He is dear to the Goddess of Death herself.

What's more pagan than that?

Besides Chayenne IS virtuous himself, he is a warrior, devout to the Blood God however not for bloodlust, but for the desire of protecting those he loves and cherishes. Little Chayenne, walking endlessly searching for his siblings, praying to his fathers' goddesses to shine a light, to show him the way, to protect his siblings, but receiving nothing back as the goddesses is forbidden from interfering with the living, even the ones toying the line into her realm.

I actually changed my mind and we are putting Tallulah in the 2nd circle, Luxury. Now, we about to play loose with the definition of luxury here as this is the circle where the damned are tormented with strong winds that drag them through hell, i'm focusing not on Luxury as a carnal sin, but rather the element of desire.

And for this we are going to consider Wilbur as the parent being punished, not Philza.

Wilbur who left for fame.

Wilbur who left for months and months and months. Who lusted for the world, who wanted to be known, who wanted to be adored, who lusted after a life of his dreams.

Wilbur who in his lust for the world forgot the one person who always considered him her whole world.

Tallulah lusting after safety, lusting for a place to belong, lusting to leave a mark in the world so that it doesn't forget her, trying to grab onto anything to prove her worth and her value but now being stuck in those winds. dragged without a destination, powerless and alone.

Pomme is then in the 3rd circle, Gluttony. The 3rd circle is the circle for those who were gluttons, who over indulged, are now stuck in pits of dirty, freezing mud, tormented by Cerberus and also a storm of snow, hail and thunder.

Etoiles, always hungry for the next fight, for the next dungeon, for the next opponent.

Baghera always hungry for answers, for things she cannot have, cannot do (she wants an explanation about what happened to her, she wants to save her friends when she cannot even save herself, she desires for the world to be good and kind).

Antoine, always hungry for power, selling his soul, his family, to achieve it. Devouring faces, devouring stories, devouring lives, swallowing everything whole until he doesn't even know who he was supposed to really be.

Pierre always hungry for connection, for warmth, hungry for those he meets, trying to fill the void in his heart with the temporary warmth of another body.

Pomme hungry for adventures, hungry to prove that she is worth of love (she remembers, those first days, the distrusts, the coldness, the way they considered not taking her and she never wants to feel that cold), Pomme being stuck, helpless when she knows so very well that helplessness gets you killed, that it makes you weak and unworthy.

The 4th circle, Avarice is empty, of the eggs at least. A respite, as much as they can have in that place.

They find Ramon in the 5th circle, Wrath. Localized on the Styx, the river that cuts through the Purgatory, made of boiling water and blood, that is the place where the wrathful are locked on eternal fights on the surface of the river, on the bottom the sullen are forever stuck drowning on the things they never got to say.

Fit who lived his whole life in a desolate wasteland where fighting was the only thing he could do. Fit who knew no rest, no peace, no sound of those fighting and those dying.

Fit who fought his whole life, who is still fighting, who doesn't know how to rest, who doesn't know how to forgive, who chokes on his wrath, who forces it down his throat because he wants to be better but anger was all that he knew during most of his life.

Fit who looks at those people in their eternal battle, bleeding and making others bleed for no reason, with no end in sight, with no real purpose but to cause harm, and feels at home.

Ramon who tries so hard to be light, to support and help his father in whatever he needs, who drowns his own feelings because he doesn't want to bother others, because he wants to be the rock they can lean on, drowning at the bottom of the Styx.

Leonarda is on the 6th circle, Heresy. This is the circle where the sinners had the intention of sinning, the one destined to those who denied the existence of god, who went against the beliefs of their time, and now they lay on open graves as fire burns them.

And what is Foolish if not a non believer?

He believes in no god, no authority, no deity. He believes in himself, he believes in his family, he believes in what he thinks is right.

Oh he plays pretend of course, he smiles at the Federation, he works for them, he joins the Ordo, he participates in their reunions, but do he believe in any of them? Does he commit to one dogma over the other?

Of course not.

Foolish is a non believer. He will join the side that offers him the most, he will betray them as easily as he joined, he will jump from a place to another as long as that keeps his family safe, as long as that is what is better for them.

Foolish who sins and smiles as he does so.

Little Leonarda who believes in her Pa above everything and anything else, burning in a never ending fire. Little Leonarda who doesn't give a fuck about anything else as long as he is okay, as long as he is by her side, who would follow him into whatever mess he got himself into, who couldn't care less about other's morals or expectations, who would gladly sin as long as they are together.

Richarlyson is on the 7th circle, Violence. This circle is actually divided in three parts but i think only two would be used the Valley of the Phlegethon where the ones who were violent against others were submerged on a river of the blood of those they hurt, and the valley of the suicidal, where those who were violent against themselves became either trees, eaten by harpies or chased by hungry dogs.

And well, it's self explanatory isn't it?

Who has spilled more blood than Cellbit? Between the war, the prison and not the Island he has enough blood on his account to drown them all.

Forever? Oh there are bloodbaths in his past too. There is rage that blinds, that takes hold of him and only leaves when he is standing in the aftermath of a carnage.

Mike does not mind blood. Never has, never will.

And who hurts Pac more than he does himself? Who hates Cellbit more than he hates himself? Who blames Forever for things, more than himself?

They may turn their rage against the world, may bath it into blood, may spill it until rivers form but they drown themselves in it too.

And Richarlyson? Little boy who saw too much, who knew death and suffering too early, who lives at war with a part of himself who wants nothing but to hurt and destroy.

Finally, Dapper is on the 8th circle, Fraud. This circle has ten pits in it, each designated to a type of sinner with their own punishment, raking from being whipped by demons to being submerged into boiling tar or being dressed into shiny clothes who were as heavy as lead.

And what is BadboyHalo if not a fraud?

Who even knows who he truly is, what he truly thinks? Probably not even himself.

This is a man of many layers and many masks, a man who presents himself in any way he thinks is right regardless of what he truly feels or thinks, this is a man who will lie to anyone, including himself.

This is a man who embodies every single sin punished, who could easily be put into any of the pits. Is he not a seducer? Is he not a liar and a thief? Corrupted by his own darkness? A hypocrite, to others and to himself? Does he not sow discord, does he not give bad advice?

And isn't Dapper too much like their father? Little Dapper who lies and lies and lies, who hides behind her own masks, who is now being punished because they do not know who they truly are underneath all the masks.

And the 9th circle, the last one?

Betrayal.

Sometimes the only way to leave hell, to leave Purgatory, is to be worse than the devils.

#can't believe being catholic is relevant for a minecraft theory #weirdest sentence i ever typed in my whole life #this got so long fuck me i guess #but im not putting it under read more #qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp philza #qsmp brazilians #qsmp french #i'm not tagging everyone fuck that #qsmp fic #qsmp foolish #qsmp wilbur #anon im so sorry #11pm and im unhinged

[zimthandmade]

Hi! First of all, I'm a huge fan!! I love your Death Note drawings, your style is incredible and I love how you portray the characters.

Soo I was wondering, in your version of MellodraMattic, how did the confession go or how was their first date like??

Thank you so much for the sweet words!! 🖤🖤🖤

I feel like even when writing fluffy scenarios, it reads as dry as a crime scene report and I feel the need to apologise. I'd much rather draw everything out as I see it play out in my head but there's just no time :'( But here’s one way I can see a “confession” happening.

Okay, so, the situation. L.A., early 2008, they’re both 18 and have been crushing on eachother for quite a while but neither of them made a move yet and the tension between them is suffocating. Matt didn’t say anything because of his low self-esteem, he’s rather suffering in silence than make a fool out of himself and potentially ruining this friendship. Mello is not displaying any signs he’s into guys and in Matts mind, even if he did, he’d probably be the last person Mello would be crushing on. Mello didn’t make a move yet because he’s afraid he’s putting both of them in danger, due to mafia relations. He’s afraid this could make him seem weak, ruin his reputaion or worst case get them both killed etc etc you get the picture, since the gang he’s in is either openly homophobic or just has a really clear picture of masculinity Mello already has trouble fitting in. There’s just a lot of stuff coming together. They’re both so trapped in their own minds that I can barely see them having a sober first move at all.

After living together for 4 years since running away, they’re now living in seperate flats for a couple of months due to convenience reasons, doesn’t matter. Matt isn’t taking living alone well and drowns in isolation. Mello is over for a visit and goes “Bro, you need to get some fresh air. Dress up, we’re going out.” and takes him to some nearby club. It's crowded in there, the bass is so heavy that it basically replaces your heartbeat. Matt finds it really uncomfortable, his social anxiety kicks in hard. They immediately start drinking which loosens things up a bit. Maybe Mello is trying to goad Matt into mingling with people a bit. Maybe something like a test of courage or a dare? "See that one at the back? If you manage to dance with her, I'll buy you another drink." "Pff, child's play. And who are you taking? I'm not doing this alone." "I'll find someone. Now go!"

And they both have a bitter feeling about the whole thing because they're both thinking, "Why am I even doing this? I want YOU to dance with me," and Mello could bite his own ass for sending Matt straight into some girl's arms. He can only swallow his jealousy because he's had alcohol. He has no trouble chatting up some girl and getting her to dance with him. I headcanon Mello inheriting the rizz of his dad. He CAN be charming if he wants to. On the dance floor in the crowd, Mello and Matt's eyes keep meeting over the shoulder of their partner. The looks are INTENSE - full of longing, jealousy, sometimes just grinning at each other. I imagine them touching their partner the way they would like to touch each other - pressing against them, hand on the back of the head, tenderly even. Unusually sensual for someone you've just chatted up in a club. At some point, Mello sits with the girl at the bar and lets her talk his ears off about some nonsense while he keeps scanning the crowd for Matt. He sees him stumble out of the crowd to the bar - alone - and keeps looking past the girl over to Matt, not listening to her at all, just saying "Mhm, oh really?" from time to time. Until at some point the girl turns around, completely annoyed at where Mello is looking all the time. She’s so pissed, rightly so, and just says “… you know, just go dance with your buddy over there if you’re so into him” “… you know what— I’mma do that, actually” and he walks away, leaving the girl sitting there. This one sentence somehow got to Mello, like "Yeah... actually, she's right. I'm just putting on an act here. I'm into Matt, so why not show him? Why am I doing this to myself? I’m a hypocrite if I keep this up any longer."

And Mello comes stumbling towards Matt grinning. “You done already?” “Yeah, she uhh left - I guess I owe you one now huh” “Screw that, come dance with me” “-for real??” “Why not?” and he drags Matt along and it's so fucking crowded in there that they almost feel invisible between all those people. There's this weird anonymity in the room. And they’re dancing so awkwardly adorable together. Maybe Mello goes “What did you do to the poor girl to make her leave you?” “I uhhh might’ve grabbed her butt and she might’ve slapped me for it haha” “Rude haha - you can grab my butt if you want, I won’t slap you” ”Oh be careful what you say, I might actually do that” “Go right ahead, dude”

Matt grabs him hard, he tries to play it as a joke. The alcohol made him so cocky that he'd rather take the chances of being smacked again than let the opportunity pass. Mello doesn't smack him though, they're both just grinning at each other and Matt keeps his hands on Mello's ass, Mello has his arms over Matt's shoulders. They are SO CLOSE, almost nose to nose and they look at each other as they sway, clinging to each other, hearts beating out of their chests. Matt has to stop himself from just leaning forward and risking everything by planting a kiss on Mello. He can't assess the situation AT ALL and he's weighing things up. He just stares at Mello, feels his heart pounding in his ears, everything is so overwhelming, he can smell Mello in front of him and it feels like time slowed down and he’s so anxious he's afraid he's going to throw up any second. But all of this happens in a matter of minutes, seconds, there's hardly any time to think about anything. Instead of just going for it, Matt goes “…what’s with you tonight why are you letting me do this” “I’m trying to make a move on you Mattie, isn’t that obvious haha” “ohhh of course, of course, suuure you are” “…don’t believe me?” “nah… maybe if you kissed me i would-” “ha, no problem-” and Mello kisses Matt on the lips. Matts brain shortwires, there’s no holding back anymore. Matt pulls Mello as close as he can, kissing him back, wrapping his arms around him like he’s afraid he’s gonna be dragged away any second. Mello is pleasantly surprised by the sudden increase of passion Matt is showing towards him. They’re straight up making out in a tight embrace on the dancefloor, there are little to no fucks left to give if anybody sees what they’re doing. Until Mello breaks the kiss and goes “come on let’s get outta here” and they stumble their way outside, arm in arm or even holding hands and Matt’s head is all ??????????????????? but he is so happy?????? this is all new emotional information and he’s not able to process any of it at an appropriate speed. They both feel downright high after that initial kiss. I think they’re both not their first kiss (they both probably kissed strangers in clubs but it was all pretty bland) but the first kiss that had intense emotions attached to it; the first kiss that mattered. And it felt amazing, it changed things. As they walk out, a blast of cold air sobers them up a bit and they look at each other, laughing like they have a new inside joke and they both think to themselves "did that really just happen?" and they both look at their hand in each other's hand and Matt goes “So uhh, — you coming over to my plac-” “Yes” “Haha okay cool” “but uhh— we probably shouldn’t be walking like this” Mello strokes the back of Matt's hand with his thumb and lets go of his hand. “They could see us, y’know” “Yeah”

On the way home (it's a few minutes' walk) they walk silently side by side, red-faced and smiling. Matt keeps looking over at Mello, in disbelief of what the hell is happening. Matt blurts out a "You have no idea how long I wanted to do that" “No joke?” “Mhm” “Why didn’t you just do it then?” “The thought of you reciprocating never crossed my mind and I didn’t want you to judge me” “But I hit on you so hard these last weeks, did you never notice anything?” “I thought you were mocking me, so I played everything for laughs” “Oh man, Matt...” “Yeah” ”…” ”I mean I’m still not entirely sure if you’re not playing a stupid little scheme with me but-” ”I’m not. Matt, I’m not.” ”…okay” ”Sorry for making it seem like I was messing with you” they’re smiling at eachother and walk in silence for a while ”So uhh what are we gonna do at my place?” ”HUH, well uhh —” Mello puts his arm around Matts shoulders, it’s looking more brotherly, but he whispers a ”whatever you feel like” in Matts ear, trying to seem as cool as possible, holding back a grin but failing miserably. It’s kind of an all-or-nothing situation.

I’m gonna spare you the smut here, just know they had a good time that night haha

--

I guess the gist is, they need to be catapulted way out of their comfort zone to get closer. And they're just horny, inexperienced adolescents in love, so they are awkward by default. They have no idea what they're doing in those regards.

#ask #death note #mello #matt #dn au 2.1 #headcanon #mihael keehl #mail jeevas #wammys boys #wammys house #wammy boys #wammy kids #wammy's house #mellodramattic #mello x matt #matt x mello #m2

[natduskfall]

The Beginning of the End

Contains negative "critique", or more precisely, my thoughts and observations, of the newest story quest. Might be interesting, might not be.

Fripp says that the spymaster’s squirrels have reported three Drakonium shipments being simultaneously abandoned. And that’s it? Couldn’t they also tell us who abandoned the shipments, and if any Dark Riders were spotted? And how did they not notice that the abandoned shipments were empty?They must know what a full shipment looks like, what types of containers Dark Core uses. They must have noticed the goons taking the shipments to unusual places, maybe they even spy on G.E.D.‘s mining operations, and see Dark Core loading the shipments. They must know the usual routes. They also could have checked to see if there actually was any Drakonium nearby.

It bewildered hen Alex yelled at everyone to stop. Like chill Alex, we’re just having a discussion, we’re not about to attack each other.

Linda’s comment about there being six of us confused me a lot initially, because there’s only 5 of us soul riders, eight of us if counting Fripp, Avalon, and Evergray.

Alex discourages Anne from creating portals, but is okay with her performing an allegedly hard and elusive spell nobody has mastered or performed in a very long time?

“I won’t bother you anymore with my jumbled thoughts.” …… brother in Aideen you just told me you had some thoughts to share with me. I really wish I could spend more time with Fripp, talk more with him. He might be such an amazing character if there was more to him.

“The future of Jorvik rests on your shoulders.” Gee, thanks.

The “Fripp teleporting away” cutscene was very weak.

I honestly was under the impression that the Drakonium shipment trap was set up to allow Dark Core access to the Library, so they could get to the Brambletween. I had not realised that there is now an army of druids there. So now I wonder why Fripp walked out on us when he didn’t need to go back to protecting the Library.

When the runestone appeared from the ground I thought it was the island itself trying to talk to me. I was a little disappointed to find out that it was a message from the druids.

Also, why did Alex and Anne waste time going to the Singing Yew to talk to me rather then just texting me and going straight to Valedale.

The Drakonium is already all unloaded from the trucks, even tho the Dark Riders want to take it further towards Valedale. And how are Lisa’s healing and Linda’s visions supposed to do anything to stop the Dark Riders?

How big is the Drakonium blast radius?

I’m so glad the writer had Alex ask such an interesting and valid question.

I honestly am conflicted about about the Oil Rig. Android or human, I still feel sorry for the goons. And what about other workers, like Lisa’s dad, or maintanance divers? But also, shouldn’t the Drakonium have been teleported to wherever G.E.D. mines it?

I think that Dark Core can already sue the pants off the druids for destroying and stealing their property.

I actually felt worried that Mr Sands might have died or been hurt. Then I thought that maybe he had been suffering for some years under Garnok’s influence, and this way he could be free, and Darko could take over. And then I was relieved that nothing happened to Mr Sands.

Mr Sands must have other oil rigs, he is an oil tycoon. I still wonder if he had the foresight to stop any drilling that might have been going on on the DC rig (If there was any), so that he wouldn’t lose the oil.

It was cool to see the hostility between the Dark Riders. I always had a feeling like they might actually hate working with each other, and that their working relationship might be strained.

Cool, so the Gate/portal is actually called the Hadal Gate. I wonder if Darko was working on it. It’s a shame it got destroyed.

I really thought the ending cutscene was happening in Wildwoods, but I suppose it’s not. The animation of Sabine swinging the hammer was kind of whack, but the animation Erissa had when she jumped out of the portal???? And her idle???? CHEF’S KISS. But the difference in quality of the cutscenes in one quest that takes a few minutes to finish is jarring.

Now I wonder where Erissa’s Dark Horse is, and what happened to the one Darko made.

I don't like how the writers introduce these new concepts, such as spells, rune warning messages. New rules. Things that are useful for only that one quest, and are never mentioned again. It's nice to have more material for fic writers, but it also would be nice if those spells and concepts would reappear. They either change their mind and abandon that concept or direction, or they forget, or it takes them so long that they're now going in a completely different direction and that thing they introduced is no longer needed or canon.

Overal, I think it was a somewhat okay quest. I think the writing was meh. So were the cutscenes. But I'm just glad that things are slowly moving somewhere. I'm elated that we finally have the fourth Dark Rider, and that they finally showed us some behind the scenes stuff going on with Dark Core. I'm glad they let Dark Core get the upper hand, or also progress with the story.

I wonder if SSE has their game documented. I don't know much about gamedev, but apparently developers use their own wikis to teep track of factions, items, characters, places, narratives... everything in the game. And It seems like SSE either doesn't have one that is up to date, or they just don't have one at all from the previous years, and are now working on a new one?

The name of the quest has me wondering if SSE is perhaps itching to wrap the main story up fast, so they can focus on the horses, outfits, and tack. That is a scary thought.

#why did it take me so long to write this oof #sso #sse #star stable online #sso dark riders #sso erissa #sso fripp #sso story #sso update #sso main story #sso critical #sso drakonium #the beginning of the end

[verycharismaticdragon]

...Would it be alright to ask how the sequel to "A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House" that you mentioned in the AN is doing? If not, please ignore this ask, thank you for all of your writings, and have a lovely day!! Otherwise- it's been half a year, and I was curious if you're still working on it, or if you've shifted fandoms/stopped for one of many other valid reasons? Have you had any favorite moments that you looked/are looking forward to sharing? Any sections that you're really pleased with how they turned out?

I love your story so much!! Ahh, I'm just *still* so excited to see how the relationships develop, now that the truth is on the table!! I keep wondering whether or not Binghe will find out about his Shizun's plans to revive himself - with the System dangling the promise/reward of accessing the memory data, Shen Qingqiu might find out about it! But, would he tell Binghe? Would he think it would reassure Binghe, or make him feel like absolute *scum* - Binghe suffering so much due to his death that he turned back *time*, when he wasn't *really* dead!

And! It's only been 3 years, not 5 it took, but - did the System simulate the old reality long enough that he would have awakened?? Would he get access to any simulated memories that occurred between Luo Binghe turning back time, and him giving the System go-ahead to stop running that old world? AAHHHHHHHHHHHH

And, will we get CucumberPlane friendship??? The Binghe-Airplane friendship was *amazing*, so could they be an actual, proper group of friends????

I just keep circling back to imagining how on *Earth* Shen Qingqiu will respond to the truth and all of these revelations, once he's gotten over the initial shock and the immediate need to comfort and reassure Binghe! Once he has a chance to *think*, what knots will this man tie himself into???

...Ah, I love your story and world so much!!! I'd still be incredibly happy and satisfied if just what you've written so far existed - thank you so much for the wonderful, wonderful story!!!!!!!! Please know that it continues to live in my head-rent free, and it likely will for a *long* time to come!!

Have a wonderful day!!

It's still a thing that's happening! Just not... soon lmao. I'm currently re-reading canon slowly and thoroughly, to both sharpen my SQQ voice and to ensure I'm not missing details!

(Yes I'm still in mourning about forgetting that bit from vol.3 about LBH physically pulling SQQ out of bed during disciple days, and unknowingly contradicting it.)

(Also I gotta put it out there that it took me almost 2 years to write Transmigrator Time Traveler. With a year-long break in the middle. So I'm just hoping to write the sequel a lil faster than that.)

As for the scenes, I'm having a lot of fun with the post-realization convo, wherein SQQ is trapped between 'well im straight so im gonna turn him down' and 'cant make binghe sad!!!' (and the undercurrent of not really wanting to turn binghe down. that he refuses to acknowledge.)

Some highlights:

“And if not after three years, then maybe after five, or ten, or twenty years,” Luo Binghe continued, with a hopeful lilt Shen Qingqiu didn’t know how to smack down without feeling like a heartless villain. “If not then, then maybe in a hundred years shizun will consider giving this disciple a chance…” And thus, before Shen Qingqiu could think up a proper reply, he was blasted in the face with this enormous number Luo Binghe seamlessly threw out.

and this (context is that lbh has wheedled a 'well i guess lots of things could happen in 100 years...' out of sqq, and is trying not to be too demanding)

“This disciple has no right to ask for anything else. If shizun…” Luo Binghe, seemingly not aware he was doing so, pulled a face, “if shizun wants to… other people……” Shen Qingqiu swallowed an undignified chortle that threatened to break free. Binghe somehow managed to look both like he was a puppy left out in the rain, and like he had bitten into a particularly sour lemon. Shen Qingqiu truly couldn’t help it; the urge to tease was just too much! “What,” Shen Qingqiu asked mildly, “you aren’t gonna promise to poke out the eyes of any men that dare to look at me? Not even hang any of my exes on the palace gates..?” Luo Binghe startled out of his expression, blinking confusedly before looking up at Shen Qingqiu. “Oh, right, no palace,” Shen Qingqiu ‘remembered’. “And no exes, for my part.” After a moment, Binghe huffed out something between a laugh and an exasperated sigh. “I could get a palace, if shizun wanted one,” he said casually, almost offhandedly, as if that would require about as much effort as picking up dinner from the specific restaurant that was just a little out of the way — sure, some effort, but definitely nothing too daunting. (Binghe really was so effortlessly cool! — Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but note.) “And shizun wouldn’t be happy if I poked someone’s eyes out on his behalf.” If it was anyone else, Shen Qingqiu would take this as a joke: like, oh, that’s the only thing that’s preventing you? But… no matter how sweet his Binghe was… he was still very much the protagonist who conquered the Endless Abyss. “Mn, please don’t do that,” Shen Qingqiu said seriously.

(me, writing this: im like dropping hints that sqq is still fundamentally comfortable with binghe despite being shook by the realization that he was being romanced!)

The first outline for this scene btw was just:

Sqq: sorry we can't be in a romantic relationship Lbh, dramatically: OK but I want to be the most important person in your life >:T Sqq, relieved: oh why didn't you just say so, okay In their thoughts, both: I don't think he understands what 'romantic relationship' means...

---

As for other things:

SQQ will not be learning about the plant body thing for a while yet. I know where I would put it, but I'm as of yet unsure if I'm going to write that instalment. For the sequel, SQQ will not get his memories unlocked until very late into the plot. Watsonian explanation is that he will not have the time to watch like 6 years of memory-TV straight, and if he asks the System to show him something, he has to at least know it happened. Doylist explanation is that he will have enough problems for me to maintain tension level even without him being fucked up about putting Binghe through his fake death :) and so I'd rather save it for a moment where it could be a major tension point of its own.

The System did not simulate the other world for long enough for "SY" to come back there, and even if it did, it would be like. a chatgpt version of SY. Plus the way i described how system's saved memories work, it'd be more like how SQQ experienced SJ's memories in the dream realm, and not as if he had actually lived the events. (And honestly SY living through coming back to find Binghe gone would be too angsty for me. I like things balanced between hurty and comforty.) (But also every time I think about how this au could be used to set up a spare SY!SQQ and I've decided against it, I imagine this:

sorry binggy)

Lastly, the cucumberplane friendship is on the menu, and so is the 1 braincell trio know-the-future club shenanigans ;D

#a transmigrator and a time traveler #svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #charismaticdragonwrites

[bewaretheundead91]

Y/N is a woman who was killed against her will to prevent the Dreaming Realm from being destroyed. She is set free into the Dreaming by Morpheus only days before the Dream king is summoned to the waking world and trapped. A century later he returns only to pick up where it all left off.

A/N: Awful at summaries. I truly don't even know what I'm doing with this fic. I don't even know if it's a good idea to write this or not. Heck I'm even terrified to post this because of all the delicious Sandman fics I've read. I have not read the comics and characters may seem OOC.

Warnings: Resentful Dream King, slight violence, Dark Morpheus , mistreatment

“Now you know how it feels to be trapped in a cage,” She whispers as her ears catch the familiar crunch of his boots against the ground. The woman keeps her eyes, casted out towards the deep lake before her. Dark blue with subtle movement. “I have no sympathy for you, only for those who were affected by your disappearance. Which was everyone of course.”

“Y/N.” the wind lifts his voice upward. It slithers up her spine and wisps around her throat. She lifts her head and gasps. “Y/N”

“You heard me right, I’m glad you have suffered,” She spits out as she turns around. Before her is a man whose face is taunt and sallow from lack of rest and stress. His eyes were an irritated red with tears filling the corners. “You are selfish, regardless of what you endured.”

The dark hair man’s face is unchanging. He stands and takes every word. When she is finished talking he looks her up and down, it has been years, a century since he has seen her. She looks modern in all black, with black boots and a pea coat much like his own. But her Hair is still wild.

“You will not speak to me in that manner,” The man says with disappointment laced with anger. The legs are kicked out from beneath the girl and fall to the rocky ground, knees first. “As a prisoner of mine, you will be punished.”

“Is that what I am now? No longer a ward of your kingdom?”

He clenches his strong jaw and flares his nostrils.

“So being trapped in the dreaming for more than a century is not a fitting punishment as is?” The girl sits up and the man grips a large chunk of hair and pulls her towards him roughly. The dark-haired man squats down beside her.

“This is punishment?” His voice goes soft in her ear. “Being here is punishment? Being able to wander around this realm freely is punishment? I could hand deliver you to Lucifer themself, locked away. Do you deserve hell?”

“You killed me. You are my eternal punishment. Eternal hell, Morpheus!”

She calls him by his name, like it was a jagged dagger straight into the heart.

A hand snatches her throat and her words stop. He leans in and examines her, forcing her head up. She was well rested and for the most part healthy looking. She has not been suffering from his disappearance. It pains him..

She chuckles looking back at his sad eyes.

“I wish I could have seen you wasting away in the little cage of glass. Sad and forced down from your pedestal. Not the king of dreams while trapped in a contraption made by humans, were you?”

“Ah, fond of glass cages I see,” An evil idea flickers in his mind. His eyes roll to the side, curving his lips up to a smirk. “How would you like to be locked away, without clothing and fresh air? Staged in my throne room for everyone in the dreaming to see. Just as I was in the basement for a century.”

“You want to put me away, you enjoy hurting me,” The woman says, struggling against his gentle, but strong hold. “You want me naked and caged, it excites you. Perhaps more than emotionally.”

“You do not know what I want.” He says and shoves the woman away, she lands palms, breaking the fall. .

“But I do know. How many humans have you killed to prevent your world from crumbling? In your eternal life?”

Morpheus turns his head to the side and walks away. The woman stands back up and pulls the black coat around her. The wind picks up and the sky clouds over.

“That is what I thought, King of dreams. Sad selfish man. You are acting like the very men that exist in the waking world. Perhaps you are creating them in your influence? Through their dreams?”

“Do not dare compare me to man, to men.” He says calmly, stopping in his tracks.

“Why shouldn’t I? Does it expose that you are flawed even for a god?”

“No.” Morpheus waves his hand and the woman vanishes.

Y/n lays in the glass enclosure covering her chest, with crossed arms. Around her neck was a black collar, slightly heavy made of thick leather with a chain latched at the back. Degraded and shamed, Y/N had been locked within the enclosure for what seemed days.

Dream sits in his chair looking outward, still feeling the exhaustion of the century kept in the waking world. The remaining fragments of his kingdom are floating above him. He was placing the pieces together like a puzzle.

“Sire, please do not continue with this treatment, she no longer holds the power of a vortex. She is dead in the waking world.”

He looks to the side at the girl hiding her most intimate parts. She was frail, just existing just as he had. He clenches his jaw and flings his line of site to his trustworthy librarian.

“A punishment fit for our prisoner, Lucienne.” He says calmly.

“I thought she was not a prisoner, she was set free into the dream realm.”

“She finds this place confining,” Morpheus stands up from his chair, walks down the steps, and approaches the nude girl. He runs his fingers over the glass and leans in. His eyes studying the weak girl. Gazing at her bare skin.

“As a human would,” Lucian comments, placing their notebook under their arm. “She cannot leave, see her father, or complete her research. You were also summoned before you could really speak to her. It is a large expanding cage made in your image, I can understand those thoughts.”

Morpheus thinks back to the day of Y/N death, dropping her here in this realm, alone. It was only a couple of days that past before he was ripped from his kingdom.

“I could make you not exist, Y/N,” His whispers, voice starts at the bottom of her spine, dragging up every notch and clings to her throat. She gasps, lifting her head up slightly. The effect on her body was unreal. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

She lifts her head up, eyes barely open. Her hair falls over her shoulders. She was like a fairy trapped for amusement.

“Morpheus,” Lucienne says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re hurting, perhaps even angry, but on your ward…she has not committed any ailments against you. She was quiet here while you were gone. Reading in the library most days.”

“This does not hurt anyone,” He says, looking down at her again. “She will not die. I am simply observing the condition of it. Letting her know how it feels.”

“But why, sire? Release her, you do not truly wish this upon anyone.”

“You would speak to me in this tone.”

“She could be useful to you sir,” The librarian suggests, looking at the girl sympathetically. “You need your tools and she is connected to the dream world.”

“She may run.”

“If she runs, so be it sire. Ultimately she would be summoned back to the Dreaming.”

“I don’t want her to leave.” His voice was slow.

The girl's eyes flicker up towards her captor, they form a deep glare. The captor smiles, parting his lips in excitement.

“While you were caged, did you find more distaste for human life? Resentment even. She is no human. You do not want the people of your world to see this.”

Morpheus waves his hand and the glass case vanishes, dropping the girl harshly to the ground with a smack. The heavy chain attached to the collar drops to her spine and backside with a clink. She lays still, unmoving.

“Sire,” Lucienne says. Quickly she walks to the woman on the floor. She crouches down to move strands of hair from her face. There were tears. “This treatment and behavior is appalling. Especially for you.”

“I am ruler of the nightmare realm as well, Lucienne. It’s always been inside me.”

Morpheus strips his coat and walks up to the woman on the floor. He bends down and reaches for the girl’s face, he examines the tears and releases her, content with his work. He drapes the garment over her body and scoops her up easily. He wraps the coat around her body.

“I am sorry.” His speech was soft, but strained.

“Put me down,” Her voice is, but a whisper. “Please put me down, Morpheus.”

“I cannot, I am taking you to my bed to rest.”

“No.” It was a simple reply, but brave.

“You need to rest and eat, Lucienne is right, anything that reminds me of humans has been a target.”

“I don’t want to be in your bed or your castle, please take me to my home,” she pleads weakly looking up at him. Feeling vulnerable she ulls his coat closer over her body. “I haven’t been human for years.”

“You do not have to cover yourself, I've seen everything.” He says eyes flickering over her.

Y/n looks away.

#morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader

[enhascloud]

READY, FILM AND MISSING.

— a leeknow and lee felix written series; masterlist.

find the story on wattpad too (go read there, extra chapter will be posted!)

SYNOPSIS. The multiverse, the different parallel universes all connect with one thing. this camera, which filmed every little thing of their film in progress for the final end-of-year project, it was the connecting link between so many mysterious universes and yet all almost identical.

It all seemed way too real, or maybe way too unreal and surreal for it to happen and yet it was, and minho could tell. he had just changed universe, he had come to change worlds, and he was far from being at the end of his surprises.

PAIRING ・ student|actor leeknow x student lee felix

GENRES ・ romance, multiverse, science-fiction, slice of life, college au, strangers to lovers!

FEATURING ・ STRAYKIDS bangchan, changbin, hyunjin, han, seungmin, jeongin. ENHYPEN heeseung. ORIGINAL CHARACTER (three girls). ITZY ryujin, yeji, chaeryeong.

STATUS ・ UNFiNiSHED / ONGOiNG / iNCOMPLET

DATE STARTED ・ 03/11/2023

TAGLIST ・ @adestayskz | comments to be added to the taglist !

MASTERLIST.

READY, FILM MISSING: prologue.

SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK WOODS AROUND TOWN, MIDNIGHT.

Each intake of air at the level of his lungs seemed to him to be a real suffering while he risked tripping at any moment due to his numerous roots present on the surface of the earth and grabbing the feet of each hiker or passenger.

His gaze seemed completely panicked, looking around as if he were just straight ahead, while his heart skipped a beat every five minutes. Struggling with every branch he encountered, his uniform ended up completely torn while one end of his sleeve remained snagged on a branch, now far away from him.

Right in front of him, what seemed like only a few feet, was a blond haired face that he didn't know too well, Felix. Who seemed in no way concerned by his presence behind him and continued his walk into the heart of this most disturbing forest.

« Felix! Felix stop, you don't even know where you're going! »

It was his voice, strangely too quiet even though he was sure he was screaming with all his might. Then suddenly nothing more, complete blackness as if something had hidden his permission to see and had trapped him here.

But it was far from that.

Just before he could even finish his sentence his body had hit the ground heavily and violently, his eyes completely closed while his face had landed on a pile of small dead leaves. He had just lost consciousness.

Around him time seemed to have stopped, nothing was moving, not even by a single millimeter and everything was frozen in place. As if the fact that he passed out had stopped the world around him.

Then the strangest thing happened. The scary, dark woods had transformed into a beautiful expanse of grass with only a few trees around. The presence of a small stream had also appeared and the cool spring of water had made its way through the brunette's hair, and ended up touching the epidermis of his face.

Then the strangest thing happened. The scary, dark woods had transformed into a beautiful expanse of grass with only a few trees around. The presence of a small stream had also appeared and the cool spring of water had made its way through the brunette's hair, and ended up touching the epidermis of his face.

An almost immediate reaction. His eyes flew open in complete panic as his heart beat at a most worrying rate. And when he was able to look around him, he noticed this more than strange change.

Without any possible or imaginable explanation he found himself in the heart of a completely unknown place and really different from the forest in which he had found himself only a short moment ago and where he remembered having followed felix for many minutes at the risk of getting lost in the dark woods.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #straykids imagines #lee know fanfic #lee know imagines #lee felix imagines #lee felix fanfic #minlix #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop #stray kids lee know #stray kids lee felix #romance #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids imagines #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee felix x reader

[rotworld]

The Language of Obedience

sometimes you forget that sully is a shepherd, too.

->sully/reader. explicit; contains noncon, kidnapping/captivity, conditioning, feral behavior, rough sex, biting, knotting, mild verbal degradation

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The door is unlocked. 

You’re so startled that you just stand there grasping the handle, staring in disbelief at the moonlit sliver of the cabin porch just outside. That’s where you stop, mere inches from freedom. It’s a trap. It has to be. There’s no way they were this careless. This is some kind of trick, some new way to destroy what little hope you have left. Max is out there, just behind the door. Waiting. You’re sure of it.

But what if he isn’t? What if that’s the trick? What if you walk out of here and no one stops you?

It takes absolutely all of your focus and self-control to keep your breathing quiet, throwing a nervous glance back over your shoulder. The communal room is dark and empty. Soft snores echo down the narrow hall leading to Lance’s bedroom. No one’s on the couch or curled up by the fireplace. It’s just you, shivering in the entrance. It doesn’t seem real. The door is unlocked and wide open. A chilly breeze scrapes your cheek and that’s all it takes. You’re running. You don’t look back.

You’re loud and you’re aware of it now more than ever. Your clumsy footsteps, your gasping and panting, your heartbeat like a sprinting rabbit—these are all things they can hear and track. But you’ve been waiting and watching, paying attention to when most of the pack goes to sleep, what the shifts are, when Blake’s busy in the kitchens, when the shepherds come back from patrol. You don’t cut through the center of the commune. You head for the trees. You found a path that will take you back to the road. You can follow it all the way down the mountain. The logistics, the distance, the way you’ll ache and your feet will sting and bleed, all of this is static in the back of your brain, unimportant now. Distance. That’s all you need. The further you get, the more time you have before they find you. That’s what matters most now. 

Your pace slows, a sprint to a light jog, a nervous limp. You can’t see. You’ve practiced this in your head every night but it’s harder now when it matters most. The trees are guideposts, boundaries along familiar footpaths worn into the earth. You tell yourself you can do this as your fingertips scrape bark and moss and one of your ankles throbs when your foot turns wrong on an uneven patch of ground. You tell yourself that anything you suffer now will be worth it once you’re home. 

And then you hear it, standing out sharp and distinct against the mutters of nature, the whisper of leaves and clatter of branches. Swift and terrifying, like a gunshot. 

“Hey,” Sully says. “Where’re you going?” 

You go rigid like a frightened deer and whirl around, your weak, human eyes useless in the dark. He could be right there, right in front of you, and you wouldn’t know. You could’ve been walking straight into him. You turn slowly, trying to make out anything against the churning shadows of the forest. A twig snaps to your right. A bush rustles to your left. Something small darts over your foot. If Sully moves at all, his footsteps are as silent as death. You can hear your own racing pulse pounding in your ears. 

“Awwww, lookit you,” he coos. You flinch, stumble a few steps away before you turn on your heel. It sounded like he was right behind you. “You’re like a bunny with those big, scared eyes. What’s wrong? You wanna run in circles a little longer?”

“I wasn’t going in circles,” you say. Your voice is hoarse, all of the confidence strained out of your words. You find him, a vague outline up ahead that doesn’t match the trees. Out of arm’s reach, but that doesn’t matter much. There’s a wolf under his skin. He’s faster than you’ll ever be. 

“Don’t worry, it was cute. Woulda let you do it longer but I was getting bored.”

How long, you wonder. How long has he been following you? Since the edge of the commune? Since you left the cabin? Dead leaves crinkle under your foot. Sully’s silhouette shifts slightly. You can feel his gaze burning into your skin. 

“Better stop backing up like that,” he warns, unable to keep a twinge of excitement out of his tone. “It makes me think you’re gonna run. You wouldn’t do that, right, cutie? You know that’d be really fucking stupid. How about, instead…” He slinks closer with a quick, fluid movement that makes your heart leap into your throat. Even on two legs, he doesn’t lose that predatory grace all the wolves have.  “…submit.”

The word hits you as hard as a fist. You whimper, baring your neck instinctively. You have no control over the action, or the sudden pulse of arousal between your legs. It just happens, as automatic as breathing, and that terrifies you. Moonlight, soft and silver, fills in the blanks of Sully’s silhouette and you see a sharp grin, tousled hair, scrapes and scars flecked across the expanse of his chest and cords of muscle straining beneath the skin. He’s naked. He could shift in a heartbeat. 

Sully lets out a soft chuffing sound, an amused exhale. “Cute. Not what I meant, though. Huh. Really thought Max woulda taught you that by now.” His eyes glint like an animal’s in the dark. “Hey,��� he whispers, his grin widening, “you wanna learn something new?” 

You run. You can’t help it. You know as you’re turning, as grass twists and tangles under your feet and your toes leave marks in the dirt, that it’s a mistake. Max told you not to run, told you never run from them, but this reflex is even older, even more deeply ingrained in you than the compulsion to obey commands. There’s a predator with you in the dark and it looked so frighteningly hungry that your mind went blank in panic. Sully lets out a startled bark behind you and you hear the unnerving, fleshy sounds of his body rearranging, bones cracking, bristling fur coming up in thick, reddish-brown clumps across shifting skin.

You don’t make it ten steps. Sully makes vicious, gleeful sounds as his teeth snag in the back of your shirt and you stumble, dragged down by his weight and the agony of his claws raking your legs. He’s human again, a knee digging into your shoulder as he tries to wrestle your hands to the ground, then wolf again with dizzying suddenness. He’s growling and furious with your fingers between his teeth, biting down until you hear an awful crunch and feel things breaking. This is how he breaks you, bit by bit, man and beast, leaving the imprints of his teeth in the ragged mess he makes of your clothes. He doesn’t stop until you’re limp, exhausted, shivering with quiet sobs with nothing left to fight back. 

Human again, he clutches one of your mangled, bloody shoulders and digs his fingers into the wound. “Ohhhhh, you’re in trouble now!” he cackles breathlessly. He’s hard, cock stiff and throbbing where it’s nestled against your thigh. “Big, big fucking trouble, making me chase you like that. Man, what would Alpha say? Bet he’d be real disappointed!” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, a panicked wheeze that slips out on reflex. Sully laughs at you. You hear seams tearing, the shred of fabric around his sharp nails as he unravels what little remains of your underwear. He starts rutting against you before he’s even finished, bumping his hips against your ass with careless, clumsy movements. Nervously shifting away from him earns you a harsh slap, his palm hot like a brand on your skin. 

“Prove it, then,” he says. “Submit to me.” He grabs your hips hard enough to leave bruises and he’s inside you sooner than you’re ready for him, fucking you open with quick, harsh thrusts. Baring your neck isn’t enough. He laughs and nips you playfully, sinks his teeth in a little too hard, but you can tell he isn’t satisfied. “Nuh-huh. Like this, cutie. Up. C’mon. On your knees, you can do it.”

There’s no reprieve to let you gather your strength. He keeps fucking you while you struggle to lift your weary body, his thrusts driving your knees harder into the dirt. Sully is the smallest of the Shelter Mountain pack with a deceptively slight, slender build. That means nothing when he’s got you pinned under him. He likes to fuck hard and fast, always from behind, always leaving marks as his hips slam into yours at a relentless, breathtaking pace that leaves you sore for hours after. 

“I can’t,” you try to tell him, a pitiful whimper that dies in your throat. You feel the engorged flesh of his knot swelling at the base of his cock, a thick bulge that presses in a teasing threat against your rim with every thrust. If it were Lance on top of you now, he’d assure you that you can, because you’re the pack human and your limits are whatever he says they are. Sully just doesn’t care. Whatever you can or can’t do is irrelevant. Your limits are meaningless. He lays himself over your back and pumps his hips even faster, and every whimper and whine you make just makes him throb inside you. 

“Head down,” he tells you. He doesn’t wait for you to comply. His hand is on the back of your head, slamming your face into the dirt, his weight along your back making you bend and arch. “Mm, yeah, that’s a good bitch. Ass up. Higher.” He mounts you like an animal, his legs bracketing your hips and his whole weight bearing down on you. He likes this—the new position, the leverage. He moans and rakes his nails down your sides, hard enough to draw blood. Small rocks and dry leaves dig into your stomach as Sully fucks you into the forest floor. It hurts, everything hurts, his cock pounding into you makes everything burn and ache, but…

It feels good. It feels like you’ve just gotten something right. There’s a hot, heady fog in your head and you’re thinking of Max praising you, stroking your hair, telling you it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay to feel this way, and you let out a miserable, broken moan. 

“This is submitting,” Sully growls, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “This is presenting yourself. Making sure we know you’re good and ready for us. Don’t forget. On your knees. Head down. Ass up.” He repeats the words with a shaky touch to each part of your body, teaching you just like Max would so you won’t forget. On your knees, he says, bearing down on you harder, making you feel the strain in your legs. Head down, he says, scraping his nails along your scalp. Ass up, he says, and his knot pushes and prods and nearly sinks into you. You arch your back, moving to meet his thrusts, and you’re so far gone you can’t tell if he speaks or growls in answer. 

You’re going to cum. The realization is dull and distant, the memory of Max’s voice rather than a thought of your own. You’re going to cum. He always tells you during training when you’re getting close. Can he tell? Can he read your body that well? Or do his words make you feel that way, set you right on the edge awaiting one last order? Sully’s thrusts get slower, more purposeful, deep, rocking movements that start easing his knot inside. “I shouldn’t let you cum,” he groans, nibbling the side of your neck. “Right? Cuz you’ve been bad. Not supposed to reward you when you’re bad.”

You don’t even realize when you start to bag. It’s not words, not anything coherent, just desperate noise and frantic movement, reduced to an animal under Sully’s slowing pace. You whine and you shake and you sob, tears mingling with the mud caked to your cheeks. You peer back at Sully with your head in the grass, hips raised, presenting, submitting, and beg for his knot. 

Sully lets out a shaky laugh. His teeth scrape your throat. “You sorry?” he says. He thrusts hard, hilts himself right up the knot. “Sorry you tried to run?” 

You are. You’re so, so sorry. You can’t remember why you even tried when this is where you’re supposed to be. Under him. Under all of them. Submitting when they tell you to, open and waiting for your pack. 

Sully bites down harder and you whimper but you don’t struggle. You don’t fight the mark. “Are you gonna be good now?” His voice is strained, his hips pushing against you in harsh, jerky motions. “Gonna be a good little pack human for me? A good bitch?” 

You will, you will, you promise you will, and blood spurts around Sully’s teeth as he seizes your hips and pushes in short, sharp motions until he forces his knot all the way inside and you cum with a scream. 

The rest is all haze. Swimming shadows, a ringing in your ears. Sully’s hips pump weakly and there’s an uncomfortable, wet sensation as you’re filled, not even a drop squeezing past his thick, pulsing knot. The world tilts and you’re on your side, Sully pressed against your back and face buried against your neck. He says something you don’t catch, murmured against your skin. The moon is a segmented circle, white as bone through a lattice of branches. The sky is clear. There are stars, more than you’ve ever seen before, shining far, far away. 

Somewhere, a wolf howls. Sully groans, fidgeting behind you, before he manages a pathetic, raspy howl in response. “Get you home in a bit,” he mutters, his arms tight around your chest. 

Something in you lurches in violent opposition to the word “home.” Something else, something new and growing and frighteningly eager, feels at peace.

#rotpeach writes #meanwolves #sully #been sitting on this draft for a little while but a sully anon motivated me to finish it lol please enjoy this terrible creature

[haunted-xander]

She was in front of the Reserve Course department now. Or rather... what was left of it. The large building had at least half of it's windows broken, the front doors pried open by a metal pipe bended around the door handle and with one end dug into the ground. When she stepped inside, she could immediately see old, dried blood splattered on the walls and floor. Many of the lockers were smashed open and had their contents thrown about and searched through. Were they looking for something in particular?

There was a trail of photos on the floor, leading up the stairs. ...Koizumi-san? Cautiously, she picked up the photo nearest to her and had to cover her mouth at the horrifying sight it portrayed. The picture showed a family sitting around a dinner table with despairing expressions on their faces. On the table were mangled and cut up human body parts and organs served on platters. Blood was covering the table more than the tablecloth was.

Terrified, Chiaki almost dropped the photo on the ground. There's no doubt, this could only have been taken by Koizumi-san... She's really... Even knowing full well what has become of them didn't prepare her for seeing her former classmates' terrorism in action. She could feel tears threatening to spill over, but steeled herself. I can't give up so easily... In an RPG, the hero always gets stronger after they've suffered, so I'll just need to be that hero. Koizumi-san... I know you'd hate these photos if you where in your right mind. I will save you. Collecting herself, she kept a solid grip on the photo and went to pick the next one.

If the first photo could give her such despair, then she figured it'd be best to hold off on looking at the pictures for now. Instead, she diligently picked up each and every one on the trail, all without sparing so much as a glance at the contents. I'll probably look at them later... In games, even if the hero knows not to look, they always end up getting cursed by staring at stuff they shouldn't... There's no way I can ignore it forever. I just need to get to Koizumi-san first... Walking up the stairs, she began to think about if this might be a trap. Even if it's a trap, I think it's worth the risk. Since I guess I'm a protagonist now, I might as well act the part, right? RPG protagonists always go straight into traps like these, regardless of if they're aware it's a trap or not...

The photo trail lead her to an old classroom. Two of the desks had photos piled up on them, but one of them had white flowers placed delicately on top. For her to give respect like that, even when in despair... That student must've been important to her. Not wanting to disturb the rare sight, Chiaki moved to the other piled desk. The photos all showed the same blonde girl with her face scribbled over. Oh, I recognize her. That's... Kuzuryu-kun's sister, isn't it? Why would Koizumi-san... Based on the quality and contents, it seems unlikely Mahiru was the photographer for any of these photos. Many looked like they where school pictures or stolen family photos, many of them showing her with her brother and... Pekoyama-san...? I didn't know she and Kuzuryu-kun knew each other from before... But I guess it makes sense.

The pile was comprised of all rather normal and innocuous pictures, so the photo on the very bottom caught her off guard. It showed the girl in the schools music room, with blood flowing down her head. A murder scene. Where... did Koizumi-san find this? I knew Kuzuryu-san had been killed, but I thought there wasn't any evidence like this...? Did you... know more than you let on...? Doubt filled her heart, and drove her to hurriedly check the other pile. She took care to place the flowers aside gently before rustling through the photos. In a similar style to Natsumi's pile, this pile had photos of a sole subject; a green haired girl Chiaki had never seen before.

Unlike the other pile, which was all stolen photos from seemingly anywhere, this pile was full of photos clearly taken by Mahiru. The green haired girl was shown smiling happily in each and every one, but the ones where she was looking back at the photographer were the happiest of them all. She appeared to be slightly blushing, even. This girl must've been good friends with Mahiru... But if this piles anything like the other, then... Just as the thought passed by her, she reached the end and once again found a horrible picture.

The girl was laying against a non-describt wall, her head hung low as she bleed freely. There was a bloody metal bat laying next to her. So this girl got killed, too... I did hear about another murder in the reserve course, but I... She noticed something dark showing from the back, and turned the photo around. The words 'YOU KILLED HER. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU." were written in blood. ...I wonder who it's about. I doubt it's directed at the girl so... who? ...Thinking about it won't help, I don't have enough clues. I... should leave.

Stepping away from the desk, she hurried out of the room and ran into a new trail leading further up. ...Koizumi-san is leading me somewhere... Doing as she did with the previous trail, she followed along while picking the photos up one by one. This time, the trail lead her all the way up to the roof, where another pile laid haphazardly on the floor. She knelt down to look through them, and had to hold back a gasp. The first photo was of Kazuichi standing in front of an army of robots, as a large building was blowing up in the background. The second, Ibuki and Hiyoko performing on a brightly lit stage as the audience slit their own throats. These are all pictures of the remnants...! Maybe... Maybe there's a clue to their whereabouts here!

She closely looked through each and every one of them for a clue, so focused that she almost didn't notice the footsteps rapidly approaching her from behind. The keyword being: almost. As the attacker was about to strike, Chiaki quickly rolled to the side and readied herself to counter. Just as I thought... it was a trap. Now able to get a look at the enemy, she clearly recognized them as Mahiru. "Nanami-san... did you like my photos? I hope you did... I took them specifically for you, you know. After Sonia-san told me you where alive, I just knew I had to catch you. You'd better not be trying to run away now! It took me a lot of time to take all these, you know!" The scolding tone was all too familiar, and all the more unsettling for it. Chiaki wanted to be happy to see her again, but the guilt and fear twisted in her chest. "...Koizumi-san... Could you just listen to me for a but? This isn't like you... You don't really like it, do you? It's all because of Enoshima-san, right?" As she spoke, she took cautious steps towards Mahiru's threatening form. "...Why don't you come with me? I'll do everything in my power to get rid of Enoshima-san's influence. I will save you."

Mahiru let out a condescending chuckle. "You? You're gonna 'save me'? Are you serious? Do you really think YOU can go up against someone as glorious as Enoshima-sama?! Get real! You barely even survived your own execution, there's no way you could even stand up against her!" Taking out her camera, she readied it and aimed the lens at Chiaki's distraught face. "Now, why don't you give me a good shot? I'd love to capture your face as it twists into despair!" Her eyes seemed to swirl with despair as she slowly stepped towards Chiaki.

Instead of simply running away, Chiaki decided to take a more active approach and reached into her backpack for the pole she saves for situations like this. Before Mahiru could react, she rushed forward and hit her behind the knees to stagger her. Chiaki then grabbed the handcuffs from her backpack and closed them around Mahiru's wrists. "W-what do you think you're doing! Let me go!"

"...Sorry, Koizumi-san, but I can't just let you do what you want. I'm sorry I can't help you right now, but I'll be back, I promise." Saying her final words, she gathered up all the photos and left the building.

#mahiru fucking shit up! #hehe last chapter had a bit of a red herring with making it seem like izurus loitering around the reserve course department but nope!!! #its mahiru #chiaki nanami #mahiru koizumi #remnant searcher chiaki au #danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa 3 #dr3 #art #my art #xanders art #xanders haunting art #digital art #fan art #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #cw blood #tw blood

[mrsnancywheeler]

Okay so more hadestown stuff!!! Specifically in “Flowers” the line “you, the one I left behind / if you ever walk this way / come in find me / lying in the bed / I made”

So I have so much to say so buckle up. (Also this song specifically I had originally written 600+ words about but had to cut pretty much all of it T-T)

Anyway so in regards to sweet girl there is so much to say!!! First of all I could refer to Finnick OR Conway! So “lying in the bed / I made” is referencing a shit ton of stuff. My favorite however is how it’s very much a self blame type thing. She “made the bed” that she now “must lay in”. It reminds me of how sweet girl feels like it’s her fault she’s in the situation she’s in, she blames herself all the time for it.

Something important to note is that in the musical birds are something Hades targets because they’re “weak” and “naive”. SO!!! Not only is she like blaming herself for “making her own bed” she’s also referencing back to “wedding song” where they talk about how a “bird is gonna make the wedding bed”

BASICALLY SWEEY GIRL (Eurydice) IS CALLING HERSELF A NIAVE LITTLE BIRD!!! She fell into the trap.

But how it can be reference to both Conway and Finnick. For Conway she views herself as betraying him, she longs for him, she wants to be around him again. I think she probably speaks to him “you the one I left behind”. Or Finnick, when she was in the arena she left him, she views it as her fault she ended up there (in the capitol)

Anyway I could go on about this for actual HOURS. You’ll straight up have to STOP me cause omg

-🌾anon

flowers is just so reader like even in non text relevant ways, the lyrics are just things she would do or say because she's so eurydice coded

she made the bed of lies, of deceit, of manipulation and has to suffer for it now. finnick can always find her lost in her own suffering that she's accepted. and she doesn't see herself as a strong person who's weathered the storm, more like someone who is being rightfully beaten down because of past actions. and she doesn't think she's ever really made a good decision even if it felt like the thing to do in the moment, like leaving finnick in the arena so they could convincea katniss.

she really just want to rest, for it all to go away though, besides her need to suffer, she does just want it all over with. "what I wanted was to fall asleep, close my eyes, and disappear. like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air"

and if given the opportunity I think she'd be desperate enough to take it, "lily white and poppy red. I trembled when he laid me out, you won't feel a thing he said, when you go down. nothing's gonna wake you now."

someone needs to give her a break fr

pookie I literally don't want to stop you, I love both of these topics sm 😭❤️

#wanda 💋 #finnick odair x reader #the lakes #the river #🌾 anon

[idiotwithanipad]

Grief: Humphrey

A alternative of this:

Alison and Mike made one of their annual stays at Button House, their old family home, now a bustling hotel. They made their cheerful greetings with the receptionist and parted ways with a smile, Mike headed off to the kitchen to greet his old friend, now a member of the kitchen staff, while Alison headed up to the Higham Suite to greet her old friends. 

She pushed the door open, optimistic to see the old faces again, but as she stepped inside, their faces were withdrawn and sullen. They sat in silence with their heads bowed, like somebody had died. 

"Hi... Guys? What's wrong?" Alison brushed her greying hair from her brow and placed her suitcase down at her side. Robin dropped his hand from the front of his furs and treaded over to Alison. His brow arched and his lips parted to speak. 

“Stompy..go up to the stars last night…” Robin explained, mournfully. He blinked back tears and set his jaw as Pat’s hand came up to rub against his back. Alison’s eyes widened and she cracked her jaw open.

“Amy? You mean Amy’s gone?” Alison asked, shocked. The group all nodded and sighed, Robin turned away from Alison and grit his teeth.

“We were all having such fun, but then she- just disappeared…” Kitty remembered, her tears brimming. Alison looked amongst everyone and gawked as though her tongue had been caught in a mouse trap. 

“But- she’d only been here for five years..how would she?-“ 

“It happen straight away sometime. Other time it take long time…” Robin explained, his gritty voice seemed laced with sadness. Alison still couldn’t grasp the thought of such a recent ghost suddenly just leaving without a trace.

“But she was-…where’s Humphrey?” Alison fretted as she looked between everybody. The group all seemed to draw in breaths at the mention of the nobleman. Fanny and The Captain practically bowed their heads. 

"Guys, where is he?" Alison asked again, more stern. Fanny stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly at her middle. 

"He's in the library, Alison. He wished not to be disturbed, given the nature of their bond..." Fanny spoke, solemnly. 

The ghosts each nodded, understanding, yet not quite grasping the pain which coursed through Humphrey's heart. How long would it be before one of them shrugged off his mourning and used him as a football or a piñata? Smacked him around like a deflated balloon? He wanted to remain alone, because that's what he was used to. 

The strange girl had checked in with her mother five years ago, completely and blissfully unaware of her ghostly visitors. He had once again, been neglected underneath the East Wing bedroom's bed. His lone head seeing nothing but shoes come and go from the room. 

One pair in particular caused him to do a double take; the thick soles making him wonder how it felt to walk on shoes that bulky. Did it hurt? Would you trip over yourself? If your foot slipped to the side, would you break your ankle? 

After a long and dull afternoon of resting idly under the bed, dust gathering around him, he saw the boots enter the room. Whoever wore them took a seat on the bed as they dangled a few inches from the wooden floorboards. The crack of a can soon followed. Then silence. Then came a coughing, and a gagging, and a gasping. 

The boots staggered to the floor again, and tried to make their way to the door, only for their wearer to stumble back and fall to the floor. He still couldn't see who it was from his position, but he could hear them. The familiar sound of a soul leaving their body. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of light. 

But all that came was a replica of those huge boots twitching and peeling themselves away from their dead shell. He'd called out and cheerfully introduced himself, but the young girl dressed from head to toe in strange, dark clothing, only gawked at him in horror and shuffled back away from the bed. 

That was their first meeting. An unfortunate one, but one that started their long time of getting to know each other. Humphrey hadn't been neglected as much after she came along. He was never left of the stone floor, or forgotten about on a bookshelf, or kicked, smacked or thrown. She wouldn't have it. 

She'd taught him many things, and he'd taught her much more. He truly felt like she was the daughter he never had. Now she was gone, a distant memory scattered to the winds. 

"Alright. You stay here. I need to go find him" Alison spoke, stepping towards the door. They each nodded and bit their lips, briefly, Robin Rose his furred hand up to his face and wiped at his eye. 

Alison made her way downstairs and avoided eye contact with anyone just in case they struck up a conversation. Luckily, the library laid dormant, except for the Tudor, settled on the window seat, staring down at the floor. 

Alison slowed down and knocked her knuckle against one of the bookshelves. 

"Humphrey? It's Alison..." She called to him gently. He looked up and pointed his finger, seemingly about to dismiss her. 

"It's alright, Humphrey. It's just me. I told the others not to bother us..." 

Humphrey's hand dropped back down to his lap, lifelessly.

"I suppose you know then?..." He asked, quietly, his gaze returning to the ground. Alison stepped closer, sliding her hands into her trouser pockets. 

"I do" She confirmed, sadly. 

The Tudor's brow creased and his lip twitched. 

"She's gone..." 

Alison stood at Humphrey's side, looking down at him with sincere pity. 

"She actually joined in for that Karaoke thing last night. For the first time, she sung in front of us. Then- whoosh..." He articulated with an upward flourish of his hands before he dropped them back down. Alison nodded, she closed her eyes; the hurt in his voice was nothing short of heartbreaking. 

If he wasn't a ghost, Alison would've patted him on the shoulder or hugged him. 

"Humphrey- Amy's in a better place now-" 

"How can you be sure? She'd had a lot of painful moments in her life, she told me she liked it 'ere, what if the people who caused the pain are where she is now? What if I can't 'elp 'er?!" He fretted, pinching at his brow. 

"I would've bared the burden for 'er, I really would-..." Humphrey choked up, he leant forward and dropped his head into his hands. 

Alison paused, the foreign sound of the once chatty and beaming Tudor, though occasionally just a talking head, reduced to tears was gut wrenching. 

"I know, Humphrey" Alison comforted, sitting down beside him on the window seat. She held her hands in her lap and stared ahead, unable to imagine the pain Humphrey felt; only in nightmares had she ever lost Mia, she couldn't bare to think what the real ordeal would be like. 

Humphrey righted himself and leaned back, his hands still clutching his head until he was upright; supporting it so that it didn't drop off his shoulders and thump to the floor between his feet. A lone yet heavy tear trickled down his cheek, he never bothered to swipe it away. 

"I know you loved her, Humphrey" Alison spoke, nodding slowly. 

"Like she was my own..." He retorted. Alison clasped her hands together and looked over at him. 

"The others are struggling too-" Alison was about to continue before Humphrey's hands fell down sloppily against his knee. 

"Oh, that's right. Those with legs struggle the most, don't they?" Humphrey spat, venom boiling in his voice. 

"They don't get batted around like a football all day, do they? What do they know? Amy was more to me than a friend. She was- there. She helped me out, a lot. Even when she COULDN'T find my stupid body, she kept me company" Humphrey mourned, before raising his brows and flicking his eyes toward the ceiling. 

"That lot would just place me somewhere and go along their merry way. I could be in the same place for weeks, did anyone even stop to say hello? No they didn't" Humphrey grumbled, tears forming in his eyes again. 

"But Amy did. She took the time to talk to a washed up old bloke like me"

Alison froze, feeling torn between her able bodied friends upstairs and the grieving Tudor. 

"Aside from Kitty and the Savage, none of the others paid Amy any mind. The Captain and Lady B even chastised Amy for her clothes, a lot." Humphrey growled, doing his best to grip at the edge of the window seat. His blood still boiled over the one comment thrown at Amy by The Captain. 'A juvenile delinquent with the attitude of a harpy'.

Alison didn't want to believe that there had been misunderstandings and judgement between the group at any point in time, but the depth in Humphrey's voice made any slither of hope wave from Alison's mind. 

"But they-" Alison started, before Humphrey cut her off. 

"No... I won't hear it" He rose from the window seat and approached the bookshelf to their left. A book had been set at an awkward angle and had fallen slightly, leaning at an angle which created a sheltering space between the book and the shelf. 

Alison watched as Humphrey reached his hand up and clutched his hair, pulling his head from his body and placing it up underneath the leaning book, his face out of sight, his hair facing the rest of the world. 

"What are you doing?" Alison asked as she got to her feet and rushed to the shelf.

"Tell that lot to save their tears, they ain't got the right to shed 'em..." Humphrey said, slowly, coldly and full of pain. Alison could tell their conversation was done; she'd scarcely get anywhere with him in this state, not that she could blame him. 

Without another word, Alison slowly turned and walked away as the customary ten seconds had passed, Humphrey's body shifted into 'roaming' mode, when it became aware of it's missing head and wandered aimlessly. 

Just as Alison reached the doorway to the silent library, she could barely hear the sound of Humphrey's mournful sobs and sniffles from where his head remained hidden beneath the book. 

"Well? Did he say anything, is he alright?" Pat asked, hope brimming behind his spectacles, yet still very much as depressed as the others. Alison gently closed the door behind her, unable to make eye contact with any of them. The group waited with baited breath. 

"He misses Amy, so much" Alison commented. 

"But he doesn't want to talk yet. He still needs time, its- it's a big loss for him" Alison nodded. The rest of them agreed and blinked back their tears. 

"Yes. It is a big loss, we'll all miss Amy" Kitty said, voice crackling with sadness. 

Later that , while the ghosts and Mike slept, Alison sat up in bed. She couldn't bring herself to sleep. But the soft sound of footsteps outside her room alerted her even more. They were slow, clumsy, almost like a drunk with tape stuck over their eyes. 

She recognized them. She headed over to the door and opened up slowly, carefully, trying not to wake her friends or Mike. Down the hall, hobbled Humphrey's headless body. It made it's way through the corridors to get to the East Wing. 

Alison bundled her dressing gown tighter around herself and followed quietly, watching it's every move. The headless body bumbled it's way to the East Wing, seemingly on a mission. 

The East Wing bedroom lie unoccupied, the headless Tudor passing through the door with ease. Alison bent down and peered through the keyhole to make sure there were no sleeping guests. She tried to foorhandle. Locked. 

As she peered back through the keyhole, just for a moment, she made out the shape of the Tudor's body lingering, his hands braced before itself as if expecting to fall at any point. It's upper body shifting forward as if trying to see something at its feet, and it's arms dropped lower. 

It took some time, but Alison managed to get her aching body to an angle where she could see what the body was doing. It stood, by the bottom right bed post, seemingly facing the wooden floorboards beneath it. Over the spot where Amy had died. 

#bbc ghosts #alison cooper #humphrey bone #larry rickard #original character #amy #amy bone #charlotte ritchie

[polarisbibliotheque]

Invictus (Vergil fighting nightmares and his s/o calming him down)

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Calm nights were a rare blessing in your house. When Vergil has memories in the form of terrible nightmares, you are the one to stand by his side to remind him that now, everything is ok.

**TRIGGER WARNING** Vergil's nightmare is very explicit. It's about when he was conscious while being a puppet of Mundus - so we have mental abuse, torture (whipping), blood and humiliation. He also goes through a panic attack and needs his s/o to ground him.

The subjects here are quite heavy and, if you're sensitive to those themes and can't handle some more graphic descriptions, I'd advise not reading it. Like so, reader discretion advised.

Author's notes: Oh well. I always wanted to write on Vergil's past, precisely because we don't know how much this man has suffered to do the things he did. I'm a firm believer he has PTSD and needs a hug - so, if Capcom isn't going to give him one officially, I'll be here to fill this man's life with love and comfort.

Dante too, but today is not about him xD

His knees were buried in the freezing, smooth snow. Vergil wanted to cry, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He wanted to let go of that sword, dripping blood of his enemies, but his hands wouldn’t obey. His dark, crimson bloody fingers wanted to wash his sins away in the whiteness of the snow, but he couldn’t bury them in the frozen floor.

Vergil kept his head bowed, fighting his own body to breathe. But his eyes… His shimmering blood red eyes could still consciously see under the horned helmet.

That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Vergil, the Dark Slayer, Son of Sparda. His body forced him to remain calm, but his mind told him not to. His soul told him to rebel. To break those shackles that kept him trapped in that prison of his own making.

Why…?

That was the question revolving inside the mind of the once great son of Sparda.

Why did all that happen in his life…? Why did his father vanish? Why did his mother die? Why wasn’t him enough to protect her? Why wasn’t him powerful to properly protect himself in that night of fire? Why did he have to live alone, without knowing his twin brother was alive for most of his life? Why was he kicked in the streets like a stray animal by other humans, forced to live on his own at such a young age? Why did he have to tough up as a child to protect himself to survive? Why did people hate him just by looking at him – a helpless, homeless child, searching for food and shelter? Why did demons chase him down like he was the sole survivor of the house of Sparda?

Why was his brother such a fool to insist on making out of Hell with him? They would’ve never made it out together – and Dante would’ve never survived in there. Vergil’s odds were much better. He couldn’t hold that foolish, soft-hearted brother of his back. Dante would’ve died in there – Vergil surely did.

Why did he have to die? To be forced into servitude by his father’s enemies, to have his free will taken away from him. To serve as an enslaved soldier, obeying every order without questioning, but screaming inside his soul – always conscious, but never able to break free... Only to watch the terrible deeds someone else told him to do. Only watching himself sink deeper into failure and humiliation, bowing submissively to the one responsible for his family’s demise.

Why…? Hadn’t he suffered enough…?

Vergil’s very essence was slowly being taken away from him, slowly dying while he watched, unable to change his fate. Unable to move. He wanted to – but he couldn’t. Still kneeling in the snow, Vergil wanted to scream all the frustration out of his lungs – but he had no mouth to do so.

His breath started to gradually raise its rhythm. Vergil didn’t notice at first, until a gush of cold air stung his lungs, immediately flushed out in a hot breath.

“It’s time to come back, Nelo Angelo.”

He heard the voice in his head, another command. His legs wanted to move him up from the snow and walk straight into Mundus’ lair, to report as a humble servant of his; another of his humble knights.

For the first time, his legs dared to disobey Mundus and finally listen to their real Master. With knees freezing cold, Vergil felt his body trembling after a long time without knowing what that was. He forced his fingers to freezingly open, letting go of his sword. Burying the black gloves in the snow, Vergil saw the crimson blood dissolving into the white – never to be seen again.

He fought to raise his hands to his head, as his arms seemed to be held down by weights of pure iron. With fists up, Vergil used all his strength to slowly raise them, trembling from the effort. Under his mask, he bared his teeth, but his body didn’t allow him to make any noise.

One hand glued on one side of the black helmet. The other, soon followed the first, on the other side. They stayed in place as if magnetically attracted, never letting go, but never falling back on the snow again.

Vergil tried to take deep breaths, his lungs stinging from the cold. His throat was dry, coarse. He needed to do it. He wanted to do it.

Grabbing at the sides, Vergil managed to start pulling it out. His hands froze mid-way, refusing to do so – his body fighting his own mind. With every new effort, he moved a few inches up. But he wouldn’t give up. Vergil had suffered too much for one lifetime, but he never gave up. He would drag his dying body to his mother’s grave and die as Vergil, son of Sparda and Eva, brother of Dante – as himself. Not as anyone else.

Not. As. Anyone. Else.

With a last effort, he took the helmet off – being free from his confinements for the first time on his own.

Vergil looked at the snow – so pale, so fluffy, so crystally beautiful, as the one he played with Dante when he was a kid and their parents watched to make sure they wouldn’t get hurt. His eyes didn’t glow red: they were back to his silvery, moonlight tones.

Vergil could breathe.

Tossing the helmet on the floor. He started to cough incessantly. His throat had an ache that seemed to have installed itself there for years. Taking one of his hands to his neck, Vergil coughed blood, spitting it on the snow, another hand on the floor, holding him up.

Staring at his own hand, he realized: it was the first time since he had been encased in that infernal armor, he had control over his own body.

Vergil stared at his hands in awe.

“Nelo Angelo! I gave you an order!”

Once again, his body started to tremble. His veins were on fire, burning from inside out, forcing his body into compliance.

But his soul wasn’t made for compliance. Vergil would never be compliant. He was born to make his own fate and walk his own path, even if it ended with his blood over his mother’s grave. He was Master of himself, and no one else. His essence could never be controlled. And Vergil would die as himself. As his mother’s and father’s son.

“You… Have…” He muttered between his teeth, forcing the words in a raspy tone. His voice hadn’t been used in years, unaccustomed to speaking once again – to be expressed with the fire of the one who commanded it. “No… Power…” As he kept muttering, Vergil forced his body to get up, once again with an effort as if a thousand shackles held him down, to be forever bowed in Hell. As his feet buried in the snow and he pulled himself up, something warm came down his cheeks, contrasting with the harsh, wintery flow. “Over… Me!”

His voice echoed through the mountains and shells of dead trees, reverberating through the corpses of dilacerated demons. Vergil stood, trying to pull his body back to his proud pose, failing due to the lack of energy and trembling legs. He willed his control back to his body, showing a son of Sparda could never die as a mere puppet.

Blood flowed down his face, from his eyes – tears now made of his very own life.

“You have no… Power over me…” Vergil said once more, as if that would remain engraved as a mantra inside his head – as if it had the power to banish the control which made his body obey someone else.

Demons appeared. Angelos. Hell Sentinels. Hell Knights. Mundus sent all of his most powerful brethren to break Vergil once more. He took his sword in his hand again, barely able to stand but never backing down from a fight – specially one that meant his own freedom. If it was for him to die, he would die fighting as himself.

It took time, but he fell once more. Grabbed and shackled with thick, cursed chains, Vergil was dragged by his neck back to Hell – hands tied behind his back, forced to walk like a dog, in a humiliating procession in front of all the other demons. His upper armor was taken off, leaving him vulnerable to all kinds of attacks while his walk of shame proceeded. His chest and back leaked blood, his feet bumping in the horrifying path to Mundus’ lair, his legs trembling, and knees scarred.

Vergil held his head high, forcing the tears of blood to stay back while all his pride was stripped away from him, listening to all the horrible things those demons screamed about his mother, his father, his brother. Hearing the laughs. Being spat, tossed around, stabbed, made a jester to entertain the vilest of creatures in all worlds – helpless, without strength to fight back. Vergil could barely keep himself up, but his head… That was all he had left. A little bit of pride and the memory he was son of the mightiest demon to the day – and of the most loving human in the world, even if she had abandoned him to save his brother on that fateful night.

“Vergil… Son of that traitor Sparda. It seems like you need to be taught a lesson once again.” Mundus’ voice reverberated on the floors of Hell, the cackling laughs of the demons nearby creating a music of horror. Vergil was forced to stop in front of him, still held by his neck with a chain, like an animal.

“You will never break me.” Vergil raised his head even higher, keeping his nose as high as he could, silvery eyes burning like fire. A fine vein of blood slowly dripped from one of his eyes.

“Oh, I will. You will vanish, the bloodline of Sparda will perish. You will remain Nelo Angelo and die when I tell you too – Vergil will never exist again after I’m done with you.”

“I will die as myself.” Vergil took a deep breath, his lungs trembling as he expired. “The son of Sparda and Eva. Brother of Dante. Vergil, the Dark Slayer.”

Mundus’ didn’t answer to Vergil’s boldness. The demons that had him on a leash forced the man to kneel in front of the king of Hell, holding his arms outstretched by the sides of his body. Vergil tried to fight the chains, but they only made them tighter, forcing more blood out of his veins. The demon who held his leash pulled him forward as two other demons appeared with whips.

“Your resolve will break by pain, spawn of Sparda and that whore Eva.” Mundus’ voice jested, making the other demons cackle again. Vergil gritted his teeth, enduring the humiliation – the whips and chains might hurt his body, but the words… Those scarred his pride, his soul. His very essence. “You will son be crowned again… Nelo Angelo.”

As the first whip cracked, Vergil didn’t make a sound – holding his will to grunt. His silvery eyes kept taunting Mundus’, making him know that wasn’t enough – he would have to do much worse to break him. Vergil had suffered and tasted so many kinds of pain before, it would take much more than a couple of whips.

And Mundus would continue until those eyes stopped defying him – something Vergil didn’t do even when he started grunting from the pain.

Those demons never thought they would see Vergil, the great son of Sparda, lying barely conscious on the floor, mumbling for his mother to hold him.

*

“Vergil…? Vergil…! Wake up, love...!” Your voice seemed like a faint memory to his ears.

But his voice was loud and clear to you. He tossed around under the sheets, screaming as if all demons in Hell were chasing him at once. You never heard him so terrified – only when he had one of his nightmares. Only when his mind took him back to the days he was so abused he couldn’t even call himself ‘Vergil’ anymore.

You had to snap him out of it – but it was dangerous. Vergil turned aggressive: his self-protective instincts triggering and his very own devil threatening to come out – teeth already sharp, nails turning into claws. He could hurt you badly if you weren’t careful.

“Vergil…! Wake up! You’re safe!” You reached out for him, knowing very well he was hearing you. Vergil turned his head to you, making you sure he was chasing your voice. “It’s ok… You’re safe. I’m here. Open your eyes…”

But he went back to screaming, as if something grabbed him by the neck. Vergil was almost kneeling on the bed at this point – and you tried your best to keep him from reaching out to Yamato.

If he did, well… You’d have to buy a new bedframe. Again.

“Vergil…! Listen to my voice…!” You spoke as gently as you could, being bold enough to approach him. You know he wouldn’t stop until something anchored him back to reality. “Vergil…!”

You placed your warm hand on his face, trying to get him to stop moving. As soon as he felt your touch, Vergil gradually stopped, seeming to follow your movements, your voice.

“You’re safe. You’re with me, love.” You whispered; voice as smooth as silk. Your other hand found the other side of his face, carefully caressing a lock of hair away from his forehead, as he liked to wear it. “You are safe, Vergil. Wake up.”

You noticed as his breathing gradually went back to normal, inspiring profoundly to let go of the air and do it again. Vergil opened his eyes slightly, finding your legs kneeling in front of him on the mattress. His neck and forehead were damp with sweat, your hands warming up his cold skin. His own fingers were trembling, and he could barely feel his legs. His back was on fire, as if the whips had just cracked his skin open for the first time.

“I’m with you… You’re safe, my love. Hear me? You’re safe.” You kept repeating those words, knowing it was the key to bring him back to the present – ignoring that intrusive memory in the form of a nightmare. Vergil didn’t always tell you about his nightmares, but he did mention they were about the times he was forced to live under the control of Mundus and slowly lose himself, or when he was just a kid trying to survive in a world that despised him – or that dreadful night he and Dante lived so many years ago.

Vergil raised one of his trembling hands to his face, enveloping your fingers with his. Closing his eyes, Vergil took a deep breath, moving your hand to caress his jaw, his nose, his lips. He ran your fingers on his mouth a couple of times – your touch, so different and softer than his, always seemed to ground him once more. As your fingers painted the form of his lips, he became more aware of the moment he was living: the mattress, the Devil May Cry, his room, the cars passing by on the streets, the silence of an ordinary day in a human life, the texture of the sheets against his skin, the weight of his body on the bed… You.

His heart rate decreased slowly as Vergil came back to reality, to his present. He wasn’t in danger. He wasn’t in Hell anymore. No one had power over him. He was free… He was Vergil. Son of Sparda and Eva. Brother of Dante. Father of Nero. The Dark Slayer. Your lover.

He was safe.

“Did I…” Vergil cleared his throat, his voice rasping to leave his chest after all the screaming. “Did I hurt you…?”

“No. You would never.” You whispered back, smiling peacefully at him while caressing his ruffled, distressed white hair. Vergil stared back at you with tired and melancholic eyes.

“Not consciously, my dearest.”

You knew what that phrase implied. Vergil was one of the most powerful human and demon to ever step on earth – challenged only by his brother – but you knew what kinds of fears he hid away in the darkest corners of his soul. It took you a long time as a couple and eons of trust to reveal the most vulnerable parts of yourselves – and Vergil was no exception.

He was half-human, after all. He had his own demons – the ones only he could see and only he could face and kill. Vergil feared losing control again: of his body, of his soul, of his essence. He feared being a puppet. He feared hurting those he loved – after he did all to gain power to protect, even himself, that power could also be used to kill. And, in case that happened once more, only Dante could stop him – by then, the damage would already be done.

“I don’t believe you could hurt me, even unconsciously.” You murmured back, still caressing his face. Vergil longed for your touch, and it grounded him even more, anchoring him back enough so his mind wouldn’t fly away in a flashback – as he was now awake. “You’d know it’s me. And I know your will, it’s as strong as mine. You’d never allow yourself to be controlled without a fight… And you’d never let someone hurt me, even through you.”

“Hmmm…” Vergil pondered your answer, taking another deep breath. Now he noticed how cold it was, as his body gradually relaxed and the drops of sweat found the chilly air of the night. “What makes you so sure…?”

Your answer wasn’t in words at first. Placing your hand over his chest, you felt his heart beating under your palm – a little fast, but definitely slower than when you woke up. Vergil looked at your hand for a few moments, turning his silvery gaze to your own eyes as your touch warmed his chest. You could always melt the ice he thoroughly encased his heart in.

Staring at the path to your soul, he knew. Nevertheless, you decided to put it into words – believing in their power as a little kind of ordinary magic.

“This is the heartbeat of a human.” You whispered, approaching him enough for Vergil to feel your hot breath on his lips. It was soothing, comforting – as if you could envelop him in a much smoother and kinder world than the one he had lived for so long. Your eyes, though, held his gaze. “The line from your heart would find mine, for it isn’t in our bodies… It’s tied to our essence, to our very soul. As your eyes are finding it right now inside mine, you would find it – no matter in what form, state of mind or lifetime… Your heart, your human heart, would find me, and you’d know. You would never hurt me… Consciously or unconsciously.”

It was a rare sight, but you could see it shimmering in the moonlight and running down his face: a single tear trailed slowly on Vergil’s cheek, glimmering like a lonely diamond, and resting on your thigh.

Another rare sight was the one of Vergil closing his eyes and allowing himself to cry in front of you, letting go of his usual proud, strong, and stoic demeanor; opening a side of himself only for your eyes to see. Leaning his head on your hand, Vergil let his eyes cry to his heart’s content.

“And you should know… I will always be here with you. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll*. I will always walk with you, Vergil, to protect you, cradle you or fight by your side.” Your other hand went up to his hair, feeling as Vergil’s tears increased their flow. Even so, he didn’t make any noise. “I fear nothing when I’m with you because my love for you is greater than whatever worry fate can throw at me. My soul will choose yours in any form, state of mind or lifetime – and whenever those memories come to terrorize you during sleep, you can be certain I will never run away, for I am here to walk through life with you, no matter what.”

Vergil always believed there were words, proses or poems for every situation in life – but, at that moment, he felt draught on his tongue and rain on his eyes. There were no words in any of the languages he knew enough to express the warmness on his chest that swelled and made him breathless from the things you told him – because, as he once might have said, he too wanted to be protected and loved.

Vergil’s head found its place on your shoulder, nuzzling your neck while his arms wrapped around your body. You didn’t even flinch or think before retributing, caressing his messy hair and wide shoulders. His form – always so regal, towering over yours – was now curled around you, trying to find the best way to comfortably feel like nothing in this world could tear you both apart.

Your heart found his inside your chests and beat in unison. In all his troubled and tortured path, Vergil never thought he would find love and protection like he yearned when he was a child – turning to power to feel safe. But now, in your arms, he knew he could never feel entirely safe from his power only.

For when Vergil screamed from the terrors he had lived, you never ran away and always held his hand to walk through the very fires of Hell alongside him. In a way, that reminded him of someone else… Someone who held him in her arms long ago, who walked through fire to save her children and put herself in danger for love.

That was the very last time Vergil felt safe in his life… Until now, in your arms. And if that wasn’t love, then Vergil could argue he didn’t know what was.

*

*Invictus, by William Ernest Henley:

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc #dmc fanfiction #dmc imagines #devil may cry imagines #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x you #devil may cry vergil #Invictus is my favourite poem since a VERY long time ago #it has always helped me to keep strong #and I like to think it has helped Vergil #because let's be honest it seems like HE is the one who wrote it #also sorry for all the graphic pain and suffering #but I dunno we seem to forget Vergil literally went through Hell and is mentally quite broken #not that it excuses his actions but he is... complicated #and I want to give him a little peace he deserves it

[countrymusiclover]

25 - A Dangerous Encounter

Part 26

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @dragonixfrye @secretdreamlandmentality

Nik blinked his eyes watching the siphon witch he loved leaving in front of him and he had no clue what had gotten into her. “Raelyn….Rae wait.” From the conversation earlier he was confused at the reaction she had just given him so he vamped straight after her.

Running through the crypt as fast as I possibly could manage I felt tears streaming down my face. My boots clicked on the stone grounds with me rounding some corners until Nik vamped in front of me making me halt in my tracks. “Nik, leave me alone please. I have to run now.”

“Rae, wait a second. You don’t have to run from anything. It won’t solve whatever lurks to scare you inside your mind. So talk to me, have I done something?” I attempted to move past him until he snagged my wrist spinning me around and back into his embrace.

Croaking through tears I tried removing myself from his grip but he didn’t move his hand away from my wrists holding me against his chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Nik. I don’t want kids but then hearing you say that you would kill it makes me think otherwise. I’m so confused ... .so terrified…I have to run before my family senses the child just like Sophie and her sister can.”

“Raelyn, enough of this. We are immortal. We can face whatever comes our way. Now tell me what you want me to do, Rae. Kill the baby or not? He grunts when I shoved away from him beginning to run again but he once again vamped in front of me pushing my back against the brick wall trapping me in between him.

Pressing my hands against his chest I shake my head not sure what to do honestly. “I don’t know…I - aggghhh!” Grabbing my head I dropped to my knees feeling pain all through my body. Watching my arms the veins grew darker at a quick rate and then they turned smaller where they looked like I was deliccating like he did when Stefan and Tyler stopped his heart but that shouldn’t be possible.

“Rae, Rae, what's going on?” Klaus lowered himself on the ground with me resting his hands on my knees when I hugged them to my chest moaning in discomfort. He truly hated seeing his girl suffer and not be able to fix it.

Squinting my eyes tightly shut I bared my teeth, wincing until the pain faded and so did the veins returning to their normal light color where you couldn’t notice them if you were human. “Ahh…what the hell was that? It felt like I was being drained of my power.”

“That’s not possible. We need to get you home. This city trip is too much for you in this state.” He got to his feet tugging me up slowly so as to not hurt me any further.

Grabbing his wrists in my hands I held him in place before we could leave. “Wait, wait, wait. We can’t go home yet. I have to call Jo. She has to know about what we think is going on. If I am pregnant there’s a high chance of me having twins. She needs to know that.”

“Fine, you can communicate with Josette. But then we are getting you back to Mystic Falls.” He told me opening his hands once I released his wrists shifting his blue orbs down to meet my gaze. “Have at it, love.”

Holding my hands up I gripped my necklace where we both saw that my hand turned red siphoning its magic. “Appreciate the offer. But let’s try this out since according to Kol now I can take from this…ohh there it is.”

“I’ll wait around the corner to give you privacy.” He said vamping away from me.

Closing my eyes I began chanting under my breath not caring if the veins came back. “Sang bis najit trouver. Sang bis najit trouver. Sang bis najit trouver….Jo?” The next time I opened my eyes I looked around to see that I was back in her office but she wasn’t there until the door opened.

“Rae Rae. What are doing back here. Is everything getting worse?” She shut the door quickly, locking it behind her in case someone was to walk in.

Clasping my hands together in front of me I smiled weakly at her. “I just learned something that seems almost impossible for any normal supernatural creature. I am supposedly pregnant with Nik’s kid according to some witches in New Orleans. But I have no freaking clue whether I should keep it or not.”

“You’re pregnant, that's unbelievable. Wait a second how is that even possible I thought he was a vampire.” Jo stepped forward wanting to hug me but the spell wouldn’t allow us.

Shrugging my shoulders I throw my hands away from my side. “From what I gather I am able to have a child because he was born a werewolf. So before he turned he was a mortal supernatural being.”

“Uh okay Woah. I’ve gotta sit down for this one.” She pulled up a chair while I was leaning up on the wall, arms crossed over my chest. “I don’t know what to say about keeping it or not, cuz. I mean I haven’t ever considered having kids of my own. What I do know is that you can’t let my dad find out about it.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought knowing that he was hunting me to ensure the succession of our coven. If he found out I was pregnant he would never let me go. “He won’t find out if I get rid of the baby. That’s what we should do, right. I mean the night I first met him I made a vow to myself to never have kids. Why should that opinion change now?”

“Because the look on your face says differently, Rae.” Josette smiled at me cheerfully.

Knitting my brows at my cousin I didn’t catch on. “What look, Jo?”

“The look that says you are so in love with him. From what I can tell I’m missing quite a lot in your life, Raelyn. So it sounds like I’ll have to come to Mystic Falls someday.” She smirked getting to her feet coming to stand in front of me staring at the ring on my finger that was new to her.

“That would be great, Jo - geez!” Gripping my head I felt pain shooting through my head where my mind flashed from here back to the street of Orleans.

“Raelyn!” Jo cried my name before I felt someone grab me from behind and I vanished from her office back to New Orleans.

I attempted to elbow whoever it was but they twisted my arms behind my back covering my mouth with their other hand vamping me away where I blacked out. “Klaus!….urg!”

Klaus arrives at a party, looking for Marcel, figuring that his old friend must have something to do with what happened to Raelyn. He catches one of his men. “Where's Marcel?”

“Who the hell's asking?”

Klaus grumbled with a scow. “I assume you're joking.”

“I only answer to Marcel.”

Klaus grabbed the vampire by his throat, choking him with his hybrid coming to the surface ready to kill the weak creature in front of him. “Well, then, in that case, perhaps you'll answer to this. You're aware the bite of a werewolf can k*ll a vampire? Well, as you can see, I'm half-werewolf, so I'm gonna ask you one more time! Where is Marcel?”

A black man broke through the crowd wearing a beanie cap on his head. “H-hey. I'm right here. I'm right here. Easy, now. Diego's just looking out for me. Nobody harms my guys. Those are the rules.”

Klaus growled, getting in his face. “I don't care about your rules, Marcel. I don't need chaperones. Why are you having me followed?”

“Come here. I get it, huh? Show of force. You made your point. Let it go, friend. For me.” He attempted to talk him down.

Kkaus revealed his fangs and the werewolf eyes turning his hands into fists at his sides wanting to tear whichever vampire it was limb from limb. “Fine. Why don't you show me what you've done with my girlfriend. Where is Raelyn Lane? Where is she!"

Marcel wissled through his fingers before two vampires began dragging someone through the crowd. “Someone put you in a mood. I didn’t know she was your girl but she did practice magic here.”

“Let me go you assholes!” I thrashed against them but they were stronger than me having one of them throw me against Marcel. “Ahh! Nik..”

He held the back of my throat harshly dangling my brother’s necklace in his other hand. “Considering she is your gal I’ll show her mercy just this once. But if she performs anymore well then mercy might be off the table.”

Stumbling into my lover's arms Klaus wrapped his arms around my waist holding me against his embrace catching the necklace with his fast reflexes. “What you can do is you can tell me what this thing is you have with the witches…here you are sweetheart. You’re okay.” He clipped the jewel back around my neck.

Marcel scoffed. “We’re back to that?”

Klaus snarled, feeling me gripping the fabric of his shirt in terror. “Yeah, we’re back to that the second you nabbed my girlfriend!”

“You know I owe you everything I got, but I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one. This is my business. I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that.” He told him.

But I knew Nik wouldn’t back down. “Your town?”

Marcel smirked. “Damn straight.”

Klaus tilted his head at his former vampire friend.“That's funny. Because when I left 100 years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper still trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down, and now look at you. Master of your domain. Prince of the city. I'd like to know how.”

“Why? Jealous? Hey man, I get it. 300 years ago, you helped build a backwater penal colony into something. You started it, but then you left. Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through. Look around. Vampires rule this city now. We don't have to live in the shadows like rats. The locals know their place. They look the other way. I got rid of the werewolves. I even found a way to shut down the witches. The blood never stops flowing and the party never ends. You want to pass on through? You want to stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine. My home, my family, my rules.” Marcel declared throwing his arms out showing the crowd gathered around the three of us.

Nik asked, rubbing circles on my back tightly holding me close to his chest knowing we were surrounded by a whole army of vampires that could kill me in a split second. “And if someone breaks those rules?”

“They die. Mercy is for the weak. You taught me that, too.” Marcel stepped towards us showing me his vampire face.

Shuttering in terror I gasped pressing my body closer to the hybrid feeling my heart beginning to beat faster. “Nik…”

“Sssh Raelyn. He won’t lay a hand on you.” He reassured me showing the vampire prince his hybrid face again growling deeply under his breath as if saying try me and die.

Marcel didn’t back down either though raising his voice towards him. “And I'm not the Prince of the quarter, friend. I'm the King! Show me some respect!”

Klaus loses his temper vamping away from me and bites one of his minions where he pulls back showing me his fangs and had blood sticking on his mouth stomping back over to us. “Your friend will be dead by the weekend. Which means I've broken one of your rules. And yet I cannot be killed. I am immortal. Who has the power now, friend?”

Marcel sent me a glare where I wrapped my arms around myself until Klaus took my hand vamping us away from the crowds and back to the car. Burying my face into his chest I began crying. “I thought he was going to try and kill me….”

“Sssh darling. I’ve got you. He won’t touch you. No one will hand you so long as I am by your side.” He declares softly, showing some tears when he cradles my face in his hands.

Someone was walking up behind us where I screamed quietly grasping my necklace about to do a spell but dropped my hand. Instead I huddled behind Klaus who had his arms out shielding me from whoever it was. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Mr. Mikaelson.”

“No, it can’t be….Uncle Joshua?” I clutched Klaus’s forearm with my blood turning cold drifting my gaze forward seeing him standing in front of us.

He slowly walked up to us with an almost dead expression on his face. “Long time no see, little niece. You and I need to have a little chat.”

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