#its ok its probably good for a young demon to run away once in their childhood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

heyy i just read your fic Case of the Munchies on ao3 and im Loving it!!!! its amazing!! i was wonder if youre accepting requests and if you haven’t done it could you write the same for the rest: mammon, levi, satan, belphi, dia, barbatos and smth for simeon and luke (ofc platonic) like how angles have a true form and that means they can never relax around mc and how solomon has so much power at his fingertips he can just snap and end them or smth like that? pretty please and thank you!!!!

A/N: Of Course! Of Course! I already did Mammon and Levi HERE so I’ll do the other four in this request! You sent me a lot of good ideas and I’ll sprinkle them out into other requests soon!

Hope you like it!!

Case of the Munchies prt 3!

Word Count: 4.2k

Characters: Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos

TW: Mentions of eating and cook humans, very mild gore

Satan

As the only full-blooded demon of the seven, he has thought about it...just hypothetically of course. When you were new to the Devildom he did find your scent more appetizing than the others. It’s a good thing he has the most restraint and control of all his kin, especially when it comes to his more base urges.

He doesn’t hide this knowledge from you. It’s readily available in the library and his own room in the history books. He just won’t bring it up. So if you don’t say anything, he won’t either. What would he say anyway? “Yes, I’ve thought about it, up until it was outlawed it was a staple of our diet after all…” Ye, probably not the best thing to say.

When you finally brought it up he was exasperated. Did you have to bring it up during the few hours he had alone with himself? He wasn’t going to lie but the thought of hurting your feelings would just about do him in.

He will alleviate your worries if you have any. If Satan was anything, he was genuine.

Mini Fic

His wine curdles in his stomach, turning sour along with the take-out he had nabbed for the two of you to enjoy tonight. Drinks and dinner were becoming a staple in your T.V. night tradition. If one of you had had a rough day you would drop by your favorite shop of the hour and pick up a meal to share while you vent.

Today in particular had been a shit day for him. Failed experiment after failed experiment, and one bottle that didn’t explode on impact with the potion he dropped. Sigh. At least your comforting words soothed his wounded pride a little. You chuckle at his escapades glad to see he is not hurt at least. It was nice to have someone to see the humor in something that normally would have dampened his mood.

“You’re a pest.” He laughs at you while snapping his takeout chopsticks in half to use. “I need sympathy-hours of work wasted.” You snort into your own bowl of udon.

“You need words of praise like Beel needs another stomach.” Satan gasps in mock insult pointing a sauce stained chopstick at you.

“How dare you insult your host! After I toiled over this meal of-” What did he get exactly? Honestly, when he placed the order he was near boiling with rage at his careless fumble. It was to be a surprise for you, something to give you a bit of magic while supervised by himself. He knew how frustrated you were with your lack of magical ability in class so he wanted to gift you something grand. Now he has to wait months to try again.

Ah, well...nothing ventured nothing gained as they say.

You watch him sulk over his soup dumplings, his mile away from the comfort of your company and his room. “Come on blondie.” You poke him with your foot before burying them under his pajama-clad thighs on the couch. “Eat your ‘hard earned’ meal before I do.” You snatch up his D.D.D forgetting your own food for a moment to set up your favorite streaming service to cast to his small T.V. “Want to watch a bunch of humans fail miserably at baking?”

"I thought you would never ask."

Satan feels you stiffen in his arms two hours into your bake-off marathon. Your takeout boxes are cold and forgotten on his coffee table, a bottle of wine gone between the two of you. He glances down at you curious.

You were transfixed on the screen. The novice baker on screen was struggling to keep his monstrosity of a cake upright. It was the annual Halloween episode and this fool went for a Silence of the Lambs inspired cake. A good concept really, but very poorly executed. The fake body parts and sugar blood weighted the pastry down dangerously. If he were, to be frank, the cake was also tacky as hell. Heh, he'd have to try to make this for Lucifer.

"Does his abuse of the piping gun offend you that much?" He jokes wrapping an arm around you.

Your laugh is breathy and lacks its usual warmth. "It is excessive isn't it?" You look up at him. "Hey, Satan-have you ever eaten people before?"

"Uhh…" Great, how eloquent. This came out of nowhere, did Lucifer set you up to this? No-no you wouldn’t. Would you hate him if you knew? “I have.” He admits through clenched teeth waiting for your reaction.

“Didn’t Diavolo ban it?” He can tell you are doing the mental math in your head.

He chuckles dryly. “Well, you never asked if I did it legally.” You move away from his touch and pause the show. “I mean...I did it legally! ” His mouth runs freely, his brain screaming at him to shut up.

“Satan.” You cross your arms unimpressed.

“It was a new law and I never meant to eat it for the most part. It was at a time where I was still struggling to control myself.” Young and stupid as Lucifer had said defending him every step of the way when he would slip up. Was it sold on the black market now? Yes. Did he know how to get it? Sure, but he would never nor would he tell you about it either.

You nod thinking about his words. “I can empathize.” Oh, thank the Devil. “Have you thought of eating me?”Ahhh. “Oh my God, you have.” You chuck a pillow at him with a laugh.

He catches the pillow and clutches it to his fiery hot face. “Everyone did at first!” If he was going down then he was going to take every one of his brothers down with him. “I wasn’t going to act on it! It was a spur of the moment-why are you laughing!”

“Sorry, sorry.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes wishing you had your phone to take a picture of his blushing face. “I kind of figured you did.”

Satan looks at you incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more torn up over this?”

You shrug. “After everything we’ve been through? I admit it was a shock to think at first but I mean, you would have done it by now right?”

“Well, thank you?” He flops back on the couch, still clutching the pillow to act as a barrier between you two. He’ll take it as a compliment.

You scoot close, nudging his knee with yours. “You ok?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again eagerly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”

Satan chuckled, dropping the pillow to hug you back. “It’s ok.” He peaks your forehead. “Now, with that out of the way. Shall we finish this?” He swipes up his phone to hit play. You nod, flinging your legs over him to snuggle closer. “Good, I’m dying to know how he tries to save that thing. I’m putting money on icing.”

“You know.” You break the silence once more, unable to stop yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being eaten...in some ways.”

Belphegor

After your first *ahem* encounter, he doesn’t bring up the whole food thing. He is afraid that if you learned about it, it would be the last strike for you and his relationship. Perhaps it’s paranoia on his part but better safe than sorry.

In all honesty, he didn’t eat it that much anyway. Killing humans was something he did often in his youth as a demon. A stupid attempt at revenge on his part. It filled the holes in his hearts to hurt those he believed killed his sister.

But to eat their flesh? Disgusting. He tried it a few times and it turned his stomach with every mouthful. He just hated them too much to even stomach them. He’s mellowed out with time but still never got a taste for it.

When you asked it was a shock but welcomed in a way. Like he could finally get this weight off his shoulders every time he looked at you.

Mini Fic

“It’s gross.” Belphie yawns, jumping up to sit on the high garden wall. He bends down to help you up placing you gently next to himself. The wind catches you by surprise threatening to topple you back from the wall before he rights you. He tosses his sweater over you with a nod of satisfaction.

You snuggle into the fleece lining burying your nose into the fabric. It smelled of elderberries and honeysuckles. Belphie watches you curl up into his side with a fond smile. “Seriously, you all are nasty.”

“Ouch!” You push his shoulder with a grin. “I feel like I should be offended on behalf of all humans.”

Belphie snorts, looking up into the bright colors of the night sky. “Good. Be offended. You, humans, are slimy.” You squawk indignantly. “It’s true, never in all my years would I willingly ingest it.” He shudders theatrically.

“Rude.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Lest I eat you?” He growls playfully, taking a swipe at you. He pulls you close to kiss the pout off your face. He stops only when your face is hot and your smile threatens to pull a muscle. “I’ll keep you safe, always.” He vows resting his chin on your head.

“Do you think other demons would try to eat me?”

“Have you met my twin?” He teases. He takes your jab to his ribs with a smile. “But if one of those lesser demons even tries to breathe in your direction I’ll kill them.”

“Ok, Mister sleeps till dinner.” You joke. His vow warms your heart a little, chasing away the small bit of fear that had rested itself in your chest. You saw how some demons looked at you at R.A.D, the longing and hungry looks got to be a bit much sometimes. A few older demons would discuss it loudly when they knew you were close by. Apparently, it was a long standing tradition of demons eating humans both body and soul when a pact was concluded.

Imagine what those brothers would do to them…

You shake your head hugging Belphie closer. You had nothing but his word that he would keep you safe, yet that was enough for you. Besides, he wasn’t one to follow the rules even at the best of times.

“I’m serious. You're off limits for everyone.”

You nod into his shirt, closing your eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Diavolo

It is so far from his mind that when you say something it is like a rug was taken out from under him. He could be diplomatic about it, but you deserve better than a half-truth.

He was a wild child in his youth. Sometimes he would overindulge in his father’s heritage and gorge himself on his newfound powers and privilege. He would dine with the elders and eat with abandon under their proud eyes.

He regrets it now, in your company it brings up a slurry of emotions. Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of his past behavior.

The urge is stronger in him than the brothers, a constant nagging tug in his guts, but he is strong. Stronger both in willpower and sheer physical prowess than them so the pull is more of an annoyance than a burning need. He can temper the hunger in other ways if need be *wink*

He fears what you might think of him if you ever found out the truth, but however you take it he will handle it in stride. He loves you too much not to.

Mini Fic

Dinners, when Diavolo could eat alone, were a rare and special treat. The solace of just being allowed to exist without constantly checking his posture or presentation was a blessing, just him, his thoughts, and a good meal. It was nice to have no paperwork to worry about staining this time or a tedious meeting where he couldn’t savor his meal. No, no this was good. He looks down at his heavily laden plate and smiles. Well, almost… Pulling out his phone he snaps a quick picture and sends it to you with a simple question. Join me?

Private meals were wonderful, but with you, they were perfect.

You arrive faster than he expected, flushed face and clutching a stitch in your side from rushing over. He almost felt bad before he saw the eager look in your eyes. Barbatos helps you with your school bags and coat before placing another plate of food across from the young lord. He winks at the prince before disappearing back through the door.

“Thank you for the invite!” You beam taking your seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm not dressed for the occasion. I was just wrapping up a study session with the boys.” You look down at your rumpled lounge clothes.

Diavolo waved his hand disregarding your concerns. “I would emulate you if I had the time.” He looks at his own pressed school uniform. He had another meeting this evening, much to his distaste. “You look rather comfortable.” You smile in delight before tucking into your own plate.

You eat in a comfortable silence reading the room well enough to tell that he wished for some company but not needless chitter-chatter. Barbatos arrived moments after you put your fork down and left with the plate leaving behind a delicious smelling hot drink. You couldn’t put your finger on the flavor but it tastes spicy like cinnamon and coats your throat like warm honey.

Whatever was in the drink seemed to work some magic on the prince. His shoulder droop, his back sinking into the chair as his legs stretch out till they are close to brushing against yours. He starts talking over the drink, eyes slowly lighting up with delight. You drink, nodding along with him as he builds up steam. It was nice to see him so unguarded and light. You listen to him talk about simple innocent topics. You knew how he tried to have these conversations with the others to no avail. The brother’s always tried to stay clear of him, and Lucifer simply dismissed these things most days. Barbatos and the angels were a bit better but still listened mostly to placate him.

“Ah!” Diavolo stops mid-sentence as his door opens once more Barbatos holding a small platter in his gloved hand. Dia claps his hands in delight. “I’ve been wanting to have you try this with me for forever. The human palate is so different, but I hope this is tasty.”

“What is it?” You eye the covered plate curiously.

Dia says a word in infernal. It is harsh and guttural in his throat but his delight was evident in his tone. “It is like...a roasted nut? Sorry, it is difficult to explain but it has been a favorite treat of mine since I was a boy. I hope you like it too.” He opens the lid with little ceremony and tilts the bowl to you. Inside were several golfball sized pods piled on top of each other. Even from across the table you could feel the molten heat radiating from the porous black shell. It looked...ugly. Like a hunk of dried lava. You eye it suspiciously as Diavolo picks one up with his bare hands and bits it. The shell cracks under his sharp teeth, a fang catching in a weak spot with a noise that makes you shiver. Underneath the thick casing, you could see a dark red and fleshy core. He hums in delight pulling put the meat of the seed and discard the shell pieces onto an empty plate. He makes quick work of the innards already reaching for another by the time you casually pick up a seed.

The seed itself was dense and warm to the touch. You squeeze it, noting that the porous coating felt like a mass of steel in your hand. “Dia-how do I open it?” No way you could bite it, not without breaking your jaw in the process.

“Allow me.” He takes it from you and effortlessly cracks it. “It is a tradition to break them with teeth, instead of hands or utensils. Something about a show of strength. I just find it fun.” He shrugs, handing you the broken seed.

“Fun!” You marvel at his pearly fangs. “Those are some big chompers.”

“All the better to eat you with my dear.” He chuckles.

You blink in shock, eyes widening. “Would you? Eat me?”

Diavolo’s smile drops. “No.” He lies on reflex, his political nature kicking in. “No-no wait.” He shakes his head. “I...at a time would have without hesitation.” He feels you recoil. “It was common practice back in the day. To the common demon it was a great meal and for the ruling class a show. He looks down at the broken fragments of shell on his plate. Breaking the shell was far too reminiscent of other things. He squashes the unwanted wave of memories coming up. Instead, he looks up at you.

You sit quietly mulling over his words. You haven’t run yet. “Why did you stop?”

He leans back with a loud exhale. Why did he stop? There were many reasons, none he wished to divulge into at the moment, but he had to say something. “I grew up, and began to resent and regret it.” He used to read human stories of demons and his kind. They hurt their characterizations of him and his people. Yet, they had all been scarily accurate. He wanted to prove that they weren’t stagnating beasts, slaves to their desires. Even if it wasn't a popular opinion.

“I see.” You pick up the seed again. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to, and to apologize… such admissions must have ruined your appetite. If you wish to retire-”

“Is it weird if it didn’t?” You cut him off. You felt-not apathetic to the knowledge but close to it. It confirmed a lot of things for you and put certain things in perspective. You still felt safe with him even with this new bit of knowledge. Without a second thought, you pop the treat into your mouth. You gasp in delight. The flavor and texture were not what you were expecting, but was delicious all the same. “Can you open another for me?” You push your plate over to him.

“Of course!”

The food was as wonderful as his company.

Barbatos

You knew he cooked it. He probably knows a million different ways to prepare a human. He is also very blunt about his dabblings in the market.

He doesn’t eat it, hasn’t ever. He sees no reason to, especially since he doesn’t need to eat anyway there is no temptation. He did find the meals he created beautiful though.

Once he lived for the praises of the courts and his young lord. He was a master at all mediums he cared to work with. Time, decorum, or of the flesh.

He is 100% unashamed of his past with the dark side of the Devildom’s history. In fact, he is damn near proud of it. He is a demon and it was a part of his life, if that frightens you, well there is nothing he can do about it.

He’ll entertain your questions and will try to put any lingering worries at ease. Just don’t expect to be coddled when he does.

Mini Fic

Barbatos had very few personal pleasures in his life. His schedule simply didn’t have the space for such things. So why even bother looking for a pastime. It wasn’t until Diavolo gifted him with an old worn cookbook did he find it.

Cooking was a necessity for his prince, but with that little book, it became something he looked forward to doing. Slowly, he began to seek them out, filling his growing quarters with cookbooks and loose-leaf slips of paper. He enjoys reading them. Each book was a little time capsule into the cook's life and memories. Could a mix of spices really remind someone of the arid heat of their motherland? Or does following a certain way of aging meat really honor the writer's late grandfather’s memory? He tries them all, each recipe a little invasion to a happier time.

He wrote his fair share of cookbooks too in his day. Simple modifications to things the young lord liked to the odd machinations of his own imagination. He got good at experimenting with flavors and textures over the years, mastering certain cooking techniques and flavors just for fun. He didn’t share many of them, a lot of his recipes were just too complicated for most. Luke was allowed to look at his pastry books only. The little cherub was enamored with his techniques and wanted to learn as much as he could in the short amount of time he was in the Devildom. Admirable, but he made sure to keep some of his...less savory books away from the boy. He shudders to think what Simeon would do if he scarred the young angel.

You are the only one who has full access to his collections. Whether you liked to cook was inconsequential to him. He simply enjoyed sharing this interest with you. Some nights you would take it upon yourself to be his “sous-chef”. Which meant you sat in the corner of the kitchen and read out the ingredients and steps for a recipe he knew by heart. Sometimes you would add in extra steps in an attempt to stump it. Cute...but ultimately failed each time. So, most nights when you tagged along to the kitchens you just flip through his collection, reading his immaculate scribblings crammed into the corners of the pages or where he scratched out certain ingredients for more demon-appropriate foods and more sustainable options.

You had gone through many beautiful books before you found it. The cookbook was small and inconspicuous compared to most. Just a simple black cover with a well-worn spine. What made you take notice of it was just how dusty it was. That wasn’t like him to do. Barbatos would never let something get so dirty. You wished you never had opened it. You weren’t stupid by any means, but after reading a few pretty graphic recipes it had unsettled you. So you withdrew from Barbatos trying to forget about the book tucked away deep in the bowels of your school bag.

“You’ve been distant.” You choke, hand flying up to your chest as you swear your heart skipped a beat. Damn demon. Should put a bell on him. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are piercing, cutting away at your feeble defenses.

“Nothing…” You fiddle with your bag’s strap. Your eyes drop to the floor taking in the differences between his polished shoes and your scuffed boots.

“Of course not…” You could hear the skepticism in his voice. “I trust that if there was something wrong you would feel safe enough to confide in me.” His words hit like a ton of bricks on your shoulders. He sighs seeing that his words got no reaction. “Please?”

Wordlessly you rummage in your bag and thrust the book into his chest. “Sorry. It shook me up more than I thought it would.”

Ah. He knew this book all too well. For a time it had been his favorite, one to pull out with Diavolo had guests or a deal that needed to be sealed. He accepts the book, noting how much your hands shook. “I understand.” He slips the book into his breast pocket making a mental note to hide it in one of his lesser used rooms. “Would you like to discuss this? In my room perhaps?” You follow with a timid nod.

“Where shall we begin?” Barbatos asks the moment he closes the door to his room.

“You don’t seem perturbed.” You frown. Barbatos shrugs, pulling the book out and opening it. He had a lot of good memories stored here. Some of these were still considered signature dishes, oftentimes a visiting dignitary would lament to him about the good old days when he could show off his craft when flesh was plentiful. He takes pride in that still to this day even. For as much as he loved you, he would not be ashamed of this.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head when he says as much. “It just confused me. Do-do you see me as food?”

“I never saw humans as food, no more than I see demons or angels as it.” He picks at an imaginary bit of lent from his pant leg. “As for seeing you as food no. No matter how sweet your lips are, or how honeyed your words can be.” He smiles, taking impish delight in your squirming. “I merely did my job as a butler for my lord.”

“Oh- sorry for not coming to you sooner.” You felt foolish now. Barbatos waves it off, pleased to have this issue put aside so quickly and cleanly. “Wait-" You gasp as his words finally sink in. “Have you prepared angels before?”

He flashes you a mischievous smile putting a single finger up to his lips. “Perhaps~ do you wish to read that too?”

#obey me #om satan #om belphegor #om diavolo #om barbatos #fun request!

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staytiny-angel · 3 years

Text

Grace and Country 2/5

Rating: M

Pairing: 'Hangman' Adam Page/F!OC, One-Sided Kenny Omega/F!OC

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Harrassment.

Co-Written with @lilmissriottbliss

Taglist - @moxleyunstable, @axelwolf8109

Summary: Ava and Adam go on that date, it goes about you'd expect with the Dark Order involved, Things with Kenny come to a head.

"Violet!"

"Ava? Mon Cher Smackdown is about to start why are you screaming?"

Violet gave Finn a look before putting her friend on speaker "Mon Roi is here too, what has you so excited?"

"ADAM ASKED ME OUT ON A DATE!" The younger woman yelled

Ava could hear Violet cursing in French from a small distance. “Really? That’s amazing! Give me details now!”

“I lost my phone and he found it near your adopted brother and then Kenny was annoying me again so he covered for me by saying we were going on a date so we’re actually going on one!”

“I’m so happy for you!”

“Could you do me a solid?” Ava asked

Of course darling," Violet agreed

"Could you guys not tell the big boss?" Ava begged "You know I love Seth to death, he's my dad shaped person but he wasn't happy about this whole AEW deal and he'll be even less happy to know I'm going out with one of their biggest stars"

Violet and Finn silently looked at each other before agreeing to the younger woman's request

"We have you covered darlin" Finn said

"What are you going to do about Omega?I'm starting to worry. He's really not taking no for an answer"

“I honestly don’t know” Violet handed Finn her phone, taking out the one meant to contact family. “I think she’s going to threaten Malachi into watching over you” Finn laughed.

Ava sighed in relief. While Malachi Black, formerly Aleister to Violet, was dark and broody, he did scare Kenny with a simple stare.

“So how’s Mox doing?” Violet asked

"Good, he got Omega off my back last night at Dynamite, threatened him with Ruby." Ava said "He said something about promising Seth to look out for me?"

"Seth called him and Miro when you decided to go to AEW." Finn explained

"Called in a couple of favors. You are the baby."

Ava rolled her eyes even though the couple couldn't see her "You've got to be kidding. I can take care of myself"

“We know you can take care of yourself, Seth has a overprotective complex”

Ava sighed but didn’t disagree. “We got to go now, see you tomorrow!” Violet hung up.

Ava turned off her phone, seeing a text from Kenny. Rolling her eyes she deleted it. “Is he ever gonna get the point?” she asked herself before flopping on her hotel bed with a sigh. He thoughts turning to the next day and the date she'd been dreaming of for years.

-Next Day-

She met Adam outside a café, the cowboy looking handsome in normal street clothes and without a certain purple and black group shadowing him.

“Wow, you look great” He said. As she grinned and twirled once, showing off the chic black suit she'd chosen for their date.

“Hope you don’t mind but I invited Violet and Finn just in case your friends crash this”

Adam laughed. “They probably will ”

Inside the cafe, Finn and Violet were waiting at a four person table, surprisingly without their daughter in tow.

"Where's my honey bunches?" Ava said with a pout, that Adam found adorable

"Becky and Seth have her" Finn explained "Shes having a playdate"

“Next time you bring her” Ava pointed. Finn raised his hands and laughed. Violet slid over a black coffee to Adam.

He accepted it with a smile. “So you’re both going after the top titles in Smackdown” he grinned.

“Yup!” Finn grinned. “It was fun in NXT but I wasn’t spending another week without my husband there” Ava sighed.

“It’s harder to get a title shot in AEW, I have no idea how to get to Britt”

“I lost the chance to be the inaugural champ because someone thought an ass deserved it” Adam muttered.

“Adam I think your shadows are here” Violet pointed to a booth in the corner

Sure enough, the purple and black clad Dark Order filled 2 corner booths, trying and failing to be inconspicuous.

"Oh god" Adam murmured "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have told them where we were going"

"They really care about you" Ava smiled at Adam causing that feeling to flutter in his chest again.

"You may not, have been the first AEW champion but you've got a shot at Kenny at All Out" Finn says

"Sure do" Adam says "I can't wait, I've owed Kenny an ass whipping for a while now"

“Fucking creep” Ava rolled her eyes. “How’s Paige?”

“You don’t know that from Mox?” Violet raised an eyebrow. Ava shook her head

“She’s ok, doing wonders with her makeup. Her and Sonya are planning a wedding”

Ava nodded. “Sorry about the Kingdom disbanding”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course Vince brings up Shotzi and us but doesn’t want Kyle, Millie, Priscilla or Jordan”

Adam and Ava share a smile knowing while AEW wasn't a paradise by any means…it wasn't run by Vince.

A loud bang sounded from the back of the restaurant and every turned to see one of the corner tables flipped on its side as John Silver looked around sheepishly.

Adam dropped his head in his hands as Ava giggled "I'm sorry, I'm gonna go uh…handle this" he said rising from his seat and heading toward the back.

"They are quite the band of misfits aren't they?" Violet said as she tried not to laugh as they watched Adam easily lift the table back in place and start seemingly scolding them for crashing their double date.

"They love him, and with the entire….mess with the Elite…their very overprotective." Ava explained

“Reminds me of Seth” Violet said. Ava’s eyes widened.

“It totally is!” Finn laughed as Adam came back and sat down.

“They swear it’s just a coincidence they all wanted to come here on the same day and time as my date”

Violet flipped her hair and put on her flirty voice. “So this a date?

Adam blushed hard. “Um…well, it’s definitely not a…friend thing…we’re not friends. I mean we are friends!, but I want to be more then friends!"

Ava blushed as she watched Adam flounder under Violet's question

"Leave him alone, mo chroi" Finn finally rescued the younger man from his wife.

“I was just being a good friend” Violet smirked.

Adam took a breath. “I don’t know why but I have a thing for goth people”

Ava looked at Violet.

“Really? Is that why you went to the Dark Order?”

“Honestly? Kenny ruined tag teams for me. The Bullet Club went to shit after you were kicked out”

Finn’s eye twitched, remembering how the Young Bucks fucked him over.

“The Bullet Club is nothing to me now. They ruined it!”

“The Elite’s worse, nothing but kissing Kenny’s ass, apparently he was looking to go to Impact and take their top title”

“Thank god the old man bought them, Impact might have been the worse part of my career but AEW would have ruined them” Violet sipped her ice coffee.

Adam sighed.

“I don’t know what happened. One minute he was my brother, now he’s a stranger” Adam said quietly as Ava rubbed his back

"Its okay, your going to take the AEW title from him at All Out." Ava consoled him.

The 2 couples finished their meal and left the restuarant, Finn and Violet heading to the arena to get ready for Smackdown, and Ava and Adam walking though the city streets enjoying each other's company.

"This has been great" Ava says as they finally end up back at the hotel

"We'll have to do it again sometime" Adam replied causing Ava to blush again.

"Maybe next time….just the two of us?" He asked softly

“No demon and vampires. No Dark Order” Ava agreed. Adam hugged her.

“Adam!” Evil Uno yelled. The pair looked at the stable. Anna walked over. “Well, the date was a success so Alex made you this” She handed a black jacket to Ava. It had a purple rose stitched in the back.

“Wow, Alex’s a suckup” Adam joked. “I’m totally wearing this next week” Anna smiled.

“C’mon Adam, before the idiots start screaming”

He rolled his eyes but hugged Ava goodbye, kissing her hair before walking away.

The Next Week

After spending the weekend and into the next week bouncing between elation over her successful date with Adam (including spending a hefty amount of time texting back and forth with the cowboy) and annoyance that Kenny just would not stop texting and calling, it was finally Wednesday and time for that weeks episode of Dynamite, at which Ava had a match against Nyla Rose.

Over the past few days she had gone hunting for more appropriate gear to compliment her new jacket and was now wearing black leather shorts with purple accents and a purple and black corset top.

"Don't you look like a full fledged member of the misfit society, I really thought you'd have better taste Sweetheart" Kenny said walking up to her, the Young Bucks flanking him

“I’ve liked purple and black before the Dark Order existed” Ava snapped.

Kenny grabbed her arm. “Let go!”

“I just want what’s best for you” Kenny said fiercely

“HEY!” Darby Allin hit Kenny with a skateboard.

“She’s said no to you for weeks now, get lost!” He roared, Ava seeing why Mox had pretty much adopted him.

Kenny looked panicked and all but ran. The Bucks, glaring at her as the followed

“Thanks” Ava said to Darby. “I hate that fucker”

"Join the club" Darby replied

Later that night after beating Nyla Rose, Ava was celebrating in the ring when Kenny's music hit and The Elite surrounded the ring.

"I really tried to do this in private Ava, baby but you just won't listen to me, you'd rather hang out with those losers instead of being part of The Elite"

“I. Am. Not. Your. Baby!” Ava screamed,.

Kenny stepped in, smirking. “Just accept the date”

The crowd began chanting variations of yes and no.

Then the music of the Dark Order hit, Adam leading the stable to a beat down. Colt tackled Kenny, Adam waving sarcastically at him before going over to Ava, "You okay Darlin?"

"Yeah, fucking asshole. Why won't he leave me alone"

"Ava, Ava!" Kenny panted, "I have a deal for you, since you and the drunk, seem so close lately, Next week….you and Adam against me and Britt Baker. You win, you get a title shot at All Out. You two lose, Cowboy loses his shot, and you go out with me"

Ava looked at Adam, who was clenching his jaw. Anna and Evil Uno nodded their heads.

Ava grabbed a mic. “We accept! And let’s raise the stakes!!! If we win and move on to kick you asses at All Out, you leave me the fuck alone!”

Kenny gulped "Done!"

“I’ll add to that!” Adam yelled. “When I kick your ass, you don’t get to have a rematch as long as I’m champion. Let someone else get an opportunity”

"Deal!" Kenny said cockily "It doesn't matter anyway "You two are gonna lose and when you do...not only will Adam never get a shot at the AEW Championship, Ava...baby...your all mine"

#shai writes #hangman adam page x female oc #Hangman Adam Page #Hangman Page #Adam Page #Kenny Omega

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH126

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 126: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XVI)

{cw: cannibalism}

Ning Zhou's talking eagle circled far ahead and then returned to its master.

"There’s movement ahead," Ning Zhou relayed after being told by the eagle.

In the darkness, only some buildings could be seen vaguely ahead. The rich black blinded their vision, and they couldn't help but feel fear because of the darkness and the unknown.

Ning Zhou looked forward, and on the other side of the street several figures were staggering. Although his night vision was good, he still couldn't see clearly. The eagle on his shoulder flapped its wings again and flew there in the dark.

"It's demons," Ning Zhou said coldly.

Sure enough, as in Nightmare Game, demons began to appear in the Holy City after the night of the new moon began. At that time, Qi Leren had been attacked by these demons and died, but this time he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.

"Don't worry, they won't find us," Su He said, and walked on.

This group of solitary demons walked in the dark streets, wobbling, and seemed to have no mind or thoughts. Qi Leren observed them closely. Although the darkness made him unable to see their appearance clearly, he could see that they were walking slowly like zombies.

As a group of people walked into the market area of the Holy City, the number of these demons increased. They had no organization or discipline, but they followed strange instructions and wandered here... Waiting…

"Are the Holy City’s residents ok? Will these demons attack humans?" Dr. Lu asked nervously.

"There are no humans," Su He’s voice sounded in the dark. "Now, there are only demons left in this Holy City."

A chill climbed from his foot to the back of his neck, and Qi Leren couldn't help but feel disturbed. Although he knew that the Holy City would be full of demons after zero, he didn't expect that these demons… were the residents living here?

"Why is this? Do the residents here know that they’ll become demons? And then, if you don't sleep..." Qi Leren remembered the previous residents who disappeared on the night of the new moon, and a more terrible guess welled up in his mind.

"Once you fall asleep on the night of the new moon, you will be transformed into a demon after zero. If you stay awake, then..." Su He paused and said slowly, "...You’ll become the demons’ prey."

As if to confirm Su He's conjecture, there came the sound of a door in the street ahead. The door of the roadside house opened and a young man screamed as he rushed out: "No, demons! Don't come near me!"

Behind him, two strange demons staggered after him.

As he escaped from the house, the demons wandering aimlessly in the street were awakened. This group of irrational monsters roared excitedly and chased him in the direction of the four people. The young man ran away crying. In the dark, he tripped, got up, and continued to run, but the greedy predators behind him were getting closer and closer, about to catch him in the next second…

Qi Leren felt the hand on his wrist loosen, and when he turned to look, Ning Zhou had already rushed out.

"Don't kill them! They’re living people!" Qi Leren shouted.

Ning Zhou didn’t kill them. He hurriedly took the young person who’d fled, kicked away the demons who had pounced on him, carried the adult man in one hand, and grabbed the roof of the nearby house with one hand to pull them both up. More demons were alerted and they rushed towards him crazily…

There was a short melody in the dark, but it wasn’t beautiful. Instead it made one anxious, but in this strange melody, the originally crazy demons calmed down. They stood there blankly, and after standing still for a while, they continued to wander in twos and threes, turning a blind eye to the two living people.

The sound of this melody was too strange. Could it be the little blonde girl? Qi Leren stared in the direction of the sound, where it was immersed in pure darkness, and vaguely saw several figures coming towards them.

Three people in cloaks came to Ning Zhou, one of whom was still playing a flute. The front man looked up at the two people on the roof and said in a hoarse and erratic voice, "Foreigner, please give him to us."

The frightened young man knelt on the roof, shivering, and shouted with a broken voice: "No, no, no, don't hand me over... I want to go home, I want to sleep..."

"We will send you home, you will sleep safely until dawn, and then you will forget this matter. Come on, we’ll send you home," the cloaked man said.

"Who are you?" Ning Zhou asked. He was wary about these three people wearing cloaks because he felt that these people also had strong demon energy.

Qi Leren became nervous and took a step forward only to be dragged back by Su He: "Wait, let's see what this group wants to do first."

The cloaked men were silent for a moment, and two of them talked in a low voice. Finally, they said, "You can call us the night watch."

"Demons?" Ning Zhou coldly asked.

The demon under the cloak smiled bitterly, took off his hood, and showed a ferocious mutated face: "Yes, but we are lucid demons."

The young man saved by Ning Zhou shook even harder, his teeth rattled in the shaking. He seemed likely to faint at any moment.

"On this night of the new moon, all those who fall asleep will become demons, while those who are awake... will become the targets of demons. Although we’re standing here now, we can walk and talk, but in fact we are also sleeping. It can be said that we’re ‘sleepwalking’. On every night of the new moon, we look for the living who haven’t fallen asleep while we sleepwalk and save them before the demons eat them. We let them forget all this, and then sleep peacefully. Foreigner, promise me to keep this a secret like we do," the cloaked man said huskily.

"Why don't you tell people? Aren’t you letting this kind of thing continue?" Ning Zhou asked.

Within the faint flute music, a ferocious yet sad smile appeared on the night watchman's mutated face.

"The crimes committed by people in ignorance can be forgiven by God. Every night of the new moon, these people who fall asleep take off their clothes in their dreams, become cannibals, hunt their own kind everywhere, then clean up all traces before dawn, put on the cloak of human beings again, and wake up safely... This night has passed for eight years without incident. If one day, this hypocritical peace is broken and innocent people know that they were eating people, then the city will really be finished. They... Us, anyone will fall into hell and will no longer be redeemed."

Eating people... Once again, Qi Leren remembered the young man who recorded all this in his notebook. Did he end up being eaten by demons? Thinking again about the knock on the door he had heard that last time... the people who appeared in his home that night were probably only his relatives who had already fallen asleep.

Qi Leren felt a tumult in his stomach, as if it were burning. He covered his stomach and tried not to imagine the bloody and cruel picture.

The young man saved by Ning Zhou let out a cry of despair and threw up on the roof. On every night before this night, he slept like the bloody demons and greedily attacked the living. He couldn't help thinking of one day many years ago, when he’d spent the night of the new moon safely in his dream, he woke up feeling happy and satisfied physically and mentally, as if he had had a beautiful dream. On that day, the old woman next door who’d watched him grow up had disappeared in the disaster of the new moon…

That kind smile reappeared on the demonic face of the night watchmen: "Look. Knowing that you’ve eaten people is far more terrible than the eating of people itself."

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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bigthiefed · 3 years

Text

the comprehensive 100% accurate drugnatural : from someone who for legal purposes has definitely... not used and/or sold them..ever.. This is a parody ;)

ok Dean

even tho he definitely started drinking at like 13, he only started smoking weed around the age of 20

i can see john hammering the anti-smoking agenda into his kids heads as getting an addiction to that shit really can fuck with ur lung capacity and they do lots of running away from cops and monsters and the like

but these are deans party years, he’s old enough not to need to babysit in his free time but too young for his own hunts, and he figures, once in a while is fine

also the tension at home is High because its the peak of john and sams fighting

dean sticks to pipes and bongs because unlike his buddies he never learnt how to roll in his early teens and that shit is hard he doesnt have time for that!!!

he gets the worst munchies and Will spend $25 valuable dollars at the gas station. Also seems like the kind of guy who thinks they can drive high but really, really cant. and shoudnt.

Dean sorta goes through an experimental phase when Sam goes to Stanford out of boredom

he’s used to using non prescription pain killers for hunting injuries but learns at some basement party that you can use them to get a high. dean gets in shit for using up half a bottle tho and decides to just stick to edibles

One of his dad’s hunter buddies offers them amphetamines like adderall to help keep him and john awake during hunts but honesty??? it just helps dean focus lol it doesnt do much

drops a tab of acid ONCE ( i think this one is actually canon ) and may or may not have pissed his pants. Dean is not a fan. really, should people who see ghosts everyday take psychedelics??

by the time dean’s like 30 he sorta gives up on the weed. dudes got a alc addiction to deal with anyways

sam

you know how that one time sam told dean he was listening to a ‘podcast on the protestant reformation’ so dean wouldnt realize he was listening to hair rock or whatever? same energy as when sam said the weed he smoked in college was probably oregano

because. seriously. rebellious 19 year old having independence for the first time in COLLEGE?? in CALIFORNIA?? with an ARTS STUDENT GF??

he was smoking probably more than dean. if sam could balance hunting + straight As in highschool.. do the math.. eliminate the hunting and thats many many hours to get stoned

except i dont think sam was actually Smoking because he’s still a health buff so he most likely took gluten free sugar free edibles from his vegan friends

i can see him being a bit more responsible than dean when he’s high but on the flip sides he’s probably one of those guys who goes on philosophical rants, thinking theyre sophocles while everyone else is like. Man Shut Up.

he’s also tried mushrooms because I dont know a single west coast vegan college guy who does not boast about mushrooms.

sam has somewhat better luck than dean because mushrooms don’t typically cause hallucinations, however whenever the trip goes bad he convinces himself that hes Evil

thats when he takes a benzo to calm down

sam pretty much stops all of this once he goes back to hunting because hes a bit preoccupied with demon blood and Back Alley Heroin i guess??? but starts smoking again when he settles down with blurry wife because all his friends and family are dead

cas

i dont think cas needs drugs LOL. we all know the type of guy whos like that.

if we’re assuming that theres an angel equivalent for most earth things, cas has most likely taken whatever angel equivalent there is for drugs. maybe thats something cool like Venus Dust. cas is rebellious and gay..of course he’s tried it.

honestly i’m really confused on how angels interact with things meant for humans. like when he said “i found a liquor store and drank it” was he being serious??

if so, i feel like hes tried earth drugs before but cut it down quite a bit when he realized that although he needs to smoke 2 ounces to feel a buzz, thats probably not very good for his vessel or whatever :(

#tw drugs #spn #weednatural #supernatural #im right and i should say it!!!

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nerdybookworm25 · 4 years

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Rambling about Katara and Zutara

Ok so I’m going to kind of just put my two cents out there on this stuff. I joined the ATLA fandom this past summer and just started watching TLOK (my brother and I just finished Book 2 yesterday). This is a hot debate and I just want to ramble on about my opinions on this stuff. A lot of this will focus on Katara’s perspective because I can understand her better than Zuko or Aang due to personal experience. Im just... gonna... get into it now...

I’ll give you some background on me so you guys can understand where I’m coming from. I’m a 15 year old girl with abandonment issues caused by multiple deaths of close friends and family at a young age (my uncle when I was 4, a grandmother like figure when I was 7, my dad’s mum when I was 9 or 10, my great grandma when I was 11, a close friend of my dad’s when I was 13 and many others). I also am the Mum Friend (my friends literally call me “Mum”). I’m the caregiver of the group- the glue, the harmonizer, the therapist, the teacher, the good advice giver etc. (This stuff actually hot me in trouble as a kid and it kind of messed me up). My friends who have seen Avatar have compared me to Katara on multiple occasions and say I’ve got the temperament of a waterbender. You can kind of see where I’d relate, you know?

I do ship Zutara. My brother turned to me during the Book 1: Water- Episode 9~ The Waterbending Scroll and asked, “What if Zuko becomes a good guy and ends up with Katara?” From then on I was on the Zutara hill and I’ll probably die there. It limited ships that I loved from childhood and I thought it would hav been really cool- it would have fit the themes of the show, it would have been a cool thing to see grow and blossom, etc. It had nothing to do with Katara and Zuko being attractive at all- not in the slightest. It also wasn’t me projecting onto Katara. I didn’t really care to notice any major similarities between us until Book Three: Fire- Episode 7~ The Runaway. It was this exchange that changed Katara from my favorite character to someone I could heavily relate to.

Toph: [Sarcasically.] Oh really, Mom? Or what are you gonna do? Send me to my room?

Katara: I wish I could!

Toph: well you can’t! Because you’re not my mom, and you’re not their mom! [Extends her arm at Aang and Sokka, who are sitting on a ledge.]

Katara: I never said I was!

Toph: No, but you act like it! You think it’s your job to boss everyone around, but it’s not! You’re just a regular kid like the rest of us! Stop acting like you can tell me what to do! I can do whatever I want!

I remember bursting out laughing when I heard this. My brother asked me what was up and I paused it and explained that that was a lecture I revived so regularly when I was younger. It really really ended up messing me up. It’s not like I tried to mother anyone- it just happened. I wasn’t controlling it. I didn’t notice I was doing it and I got in trouble. Now things are different and I’ve embraced the fact that I am the designated Mum Freind. Still working on getting over being told off about it in therapy though. Anyway, I think you now can understand where I’m coming from with this “analysis.” Now I’m going to get into it (for real this time lol).

I think I’m going to start with the caregiver stuff. Katara’s mother died when she was very young. It was a very traumatic death. We can infer that Katara blamed herself for this death because the Southern Raiders were looking for the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe- her. That’s a lot for an 8 year old to try to process. Here’s the kicker: I don’t think she ever fully processed it until after Book 3: Fire- Episode 16~ The Southern Raiders. She almost immediately helped her grandmother take up the roll as the woman of the house. She probably didn’t feel like she had anyone to talk to about what she was feeling however true or false that’s what she most likely perceived this to be. When Hakoda leaves for war with all of the men of the tribe, Kanna might be the matriarch and help raise Sokka and Katara but even Sokka admits that Katara became a pseudo-mother for him. Taking care of others doesn’t leave a lot of time to deal with your own issues. Sometimes it feels easier to help others face their demons than face your own.

We continue to see Katara become the glue of the Gaang as the series progresses. She keeps them together in the Si Wong desert after Aang leaves her, Sokka, Toph, and Momo. She’s always the one cooking, cleaning, and mending not because she wants to, but because she knows no one else will do it and it needs to be done. We see her try to coax Toph into helping out around camp when she firsts joins the Gaang. It doesn’t work and this conflict continues for most of Book 2 and the beginning of Book 3. All of this time, she’s making it a point to take care of everyone. When the adults show up after the Boiling Rock, she’s still the one making the dinner and probably does a lot of the other chores as well (except for tea making- this will come into play later).

There’s a running joke about Katara being “Momtara” within the ATLA fandom (more the Zutaraians in the fandom than anything else but it’s a pretty well known concept). We continue to see this when the Gaang is on Ember Island. She brings them all drink during training sessions, watches said training sessions in case someone gets hurt and they need her, wrangles Sokka to the best of her ability, and just generally looks out for everyone regardless of age gap. It’s her natural instinct to be motherly. She retains this quality even after she finds Yon Rha. (Getting closure on her mother’s death doesn’t mean losing what had become a major personality trait).

Let’s unpack that now, shall we? Kya dies and Katara thinks it’s her fault. She doesn’t really talk to anyone about it. A few years later, Hakoda leaves to fight in the war. The Southern Water Tribe recives no letters or news about what happened to their warriors at all. Katara felt like she lost another parent. She nearly says as much during Book 3: Fire- Episode 1~ The Awakening.

Hakoda: You’re taking about me too, aren’t you?

Katara: How could you leave us, Dad? [She attempts to wipe away the tears.] I mean, I know we had Gran-Gran, and she loved us, but we were just so lost without you.

Hakoda moves to comfort her as she turns away.

Hakoda: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Katara: [Embraces Hakoda.] I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I’m so sad and angry and hurt!

The thing that sets off this exchange is Aang running away for the third time since Katara has known him (the fourth time in Aang’s lifetime). The other times he ran were when confronted by the rude fisherman in Book 1: Water- Episode 12~ The Storm, then again during Book 2: Earth- Episode 11~ The Desert. Aang has a, for lack of a better word, chronic running away problem. I’m not mad at him for it. It makes him an interesting character and shows that he too has flaws (even if they aren’t always addressed but that’s an issue with Bryke). When Aang flys away after waking up during 3.1, Katara is distraught.

Katara: He left.

Hakoda: What?

Katara: Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone, that it’s all his responsibility.

Hakoda: Maybe that’s his way of being brave.

Katara: Its not brave, it’s selfish and stupid! We could be helping him and I know the world needs him, but doesn’t he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?

Katara feels abandoned by Aang. This is completely understandable. She has every right to be angry at him and feel sad that he flew away. He comes back every time but I feel like if I were in her position, as much as I’d hope my friend would come back and I’d tell everyone that I knew he would, I’d still be afraid that there was an off chance that he doesn’t. This is a natural human reaction to this situation. People were seemingly constantly fading in and out of Katara’s life and that just wasn’t good for her mental health. It couldn’t have been. This also raises the question of if someone has a very serious fear of abandonment, would it be healthy to be in a romantic relationship with someone who consistently leaves? Personally I don’t think so. Be friends? Sure. Date? I don’t know. It doesn’t quite sit right with me.

Katara probably feels abandoned by Zuko too. During the Book 2 Finale: Crossroads of Destiny, Katara and Zuko bond in the crystal catacombs under Ba Sing Se. They relate over their shared fear of being abandoned by those they love (yes I think Zuko has abandonment issues too- among other issues/fears). When he turns his back on her, she doesn’t live him (obviously). She has cared about him enough up to that point to offer to use what is arguably her most powerful possession to heal his scar. She cares. Because she cares about him then, she is downright livid when he betrays her. (Of course the difference between Zuko and Aang with this is Zuko leaves once and comes back and he doesn’t leave again. Aang leaves and comes back over and over and over again).

Katara: I thought you had changed!

Zuko: I have changed!

Katara carries the weight of his betrayal on her mind until she and Zuko go on their life changing field trip to confront the man who killed Katara’s mother. This was her time to finally get closure. She had probably had these feelings bottled up for 6 years and didn’t act on them. When she finally had the chance, her best friend and brother tried to stop her. She lashed out.

Katara: We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.

Sokka pauses and stands up, surprised.

Zuko: Sokka told me the story of what happened. I know who did it and I know how to find him.

Aang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

Katara: [Shakes her head in dismay.] Ugh, I knew you wouldn’t understand. [Begins to walk away.]

Aang: Wait! Stop! I do understand. You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?

Zuko: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.

Aang: I don’t think so. I think this is about getting revenge.

Katara: [Angrily.] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe it’s what he deserves!

Aang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

Katara: Its not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he’s a monster.

Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right.

Katara: Then you didn’t love her the way I did!

Sokka: [Hurt.] Katara!

Katara gets a lot of flack for this interaction. She says Sokka didn’t love their mother like she did and Sokka I’d understandably hurt. It doesn’t excuse what she said, but people do lash out when they are feeling a lot of emotions and they get defensive when they feel like they’re being ganged up on or attacked (I myself am guilty of this sort of thing). What Katara said was wrong but I have no doubt in my mind that she didn’t apologize to Sokka when he and the rest of the Gaang arrive on Ember Island later in the episode. She is seen walking over to him after she hugs Zuko.

Zuko and Katara go after Yon Rha anyway. For once in her life, Katara is feeling emotions and no one is trying to get her to stop or to push them aside. She doesn’t have to be constantly taking care of someone so she can focus on herself. Katara trusts Zuko more than I think she realizes. I mean she trusts him with a lot and he follows through on a lot of unspoken/subconscious agreements and promises.

Zuko is looking out for her. Zuko has her back. Zuko is allowing her to feel all of these emotions and work them out of her own accord. Zuko isn’t telling her to feel one way or another. Zuko isn’t going to judge her for whatever she decides to do when they find Yon Rha or what she does in order for them to get to that point. Zuko ensures she gets the closure she feels she needs.

When he sees her bloodbend, he’s surprised, but he isn’t appalled. When he thinks she’s going to run Yon Rha through with a giant shard of ice, he doesn’t try to stop her. He lets her be her. He sees a dark side of her in a way that no one else in the Gaang has seen. It’s strangely intimate. Clearly it has enough of an impact to make her forgive him. She knows he isn’t going to abandon betray her and her friend again.

Once they become friends, and even before that, Zuko starts to help out with small things here and there. We see him making tea for all of the kids at dinner. He tells jokes to make them laugh. He teaches Aang firebending. He goes with Sokka to the Boiling Rock to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed or in a prison cell for the rest of his life. With all of this, “Dadko” is born.

If you strip away Zuko’s anger, he just becomes the awkward-turtleduck-first-time-father that we all know and love. There’s more balance in the Gaang with him there to help and become an “authority” figure with Katara. They become the parents of the other members of the Gaang. It’s an interesting shift in their relationship- enemies to unsteady acquaintances to enemies to frenemies to friends. They’re close enough that they show small signs of physical intimacy and they tease each other.

Also if you look close enough when the Gaang walks into the “seedy Earth Kingdom tavern,” Zuko and Katara appear to be holding hands and are near each other from then until the finale episodes. They are clearly just great friends by the end of the show. I mean Zuko also takes a bolt of lightning to the chest for her...

Zuko doesn’t leave when his life gets difficult- not after he joins the Gaang. He made that mistake once and he won’t make it again. Aang was always part of the Gaang but continued to leave (again, I’m not mad at him for it but he never seems to realize the effect it has on the people around him- especially Katara). Zuko also doesn’t all but forget Katara and continue to run around the world. When Zuko fully decides to stick around, you best believe he is sticking around.

This works really well for Zutara. They’re both each other’s rock. They support each other and help each other in times of trouble. Do they argue? Yes. Is that a normal part of a healthy relationship- romantic or otherwise? Yes. Do they take care of and look out for each other while also not smothering or suffocating each other? Yes. I don’t know about you but this sounds stable and healthy to me. They balance each other out so well (I’m not going to get too into that because if you’re reading this you probably already know with the whole Tui and La, Yin and Yang, Oma and Shu thing).

Now, this is a big deal for me and it makes me furious, but Katara is forgotten by history. She has no statue. She is reduced to a housewife and healer- things our wonderful water feminist was afraid of becoming as an adult. I mean this girl

This girl

THIS GIRL

She becomes nothing but a housewife stuck in a healing hut who gets forgotten by the world and left behind by her family just... let’s all of that happen? Yeah that’s pretty unrealistic. I think about this frequently and with starting TLOK I have formed even more opinions and have a little thingy (I don’t know what to call it) for what happened to her.

Kya II is everything Teenage Katara wanted to do and be before settling down. Old Katara is everything Teenage Katara was so afraid of become reduced to/becoming.

It’s an interesting way to think about it and I thought I’d share. Now if Katara was Fire Lady, she wouldn’t end up like that. She’d have the power to change the world and continue to fight for what she believed in. She could have helped with the trail with Yakone. Katara has so much potential to not be forgotten or brushed aside and somehow it happened. It makes me so sad. The potential Zutara had to make sure Katara had a genuine legacy was right there at their finger tips and they didn’t use it. What a shame. What a shame.

With all of the things I’ve talked about, I just feel like Zutara would have been better for Katara than Kataang was. I think that’s more Bryke not developing the relationship well enough and instead choosing to be sloppy and selfish in the way they structured the relationship. Yeah this is my rambling on about the issue. Hope it was mildly entertaining! If you want me to write something about how Zuko would have benefited from Zutara, let me know!

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2460nodone · 3 years

Text

Hell is a Relative Term (1/2)

Title: Hell is a Relative Term Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables Author: AliceInSomewhereland Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Supernatural/Romance Published: 05-21-13, Updated: 05-22-13 Chapters: 2, Words: 9,662

[Part I] [Part II]

Summary: Eponine is one of the few who stand between humanity and hell, sworn to fight evil and protect the helpless, even if it costs her her own life. Vampire slayer!Eponine. e/e. Rated for language/content

Original author’s note: Ok guys, here we go with fic #2 for the Fic War on tumblr! This one was a prompt from tumblr user poeticbibliophile: "Modern AU prompt? One line for you, m'amie — 'Are you afraid of the good you can do?' from Les Miz, V. Hugo. Tag me if you chose this. TY!"

Part I

What if I told you the stories were true?

What if you knew that there really are things that go bump in the night? Things that live under your bed and in your closet just as much as they live in your mind, things that stalk you in the dark and prey on your terror? That all the monsters your parents ever promised you were pretend exist? That sometimes, people die, evil wins, and that the light cannot always banish your fears?

The world was hell.

There was no other way to put it.

No one really knew why these creatures existed, but they did. They ruled the night, mauling and feasting and terrorizing the population all the world over. It had always been this way; God had long ago forsaken the world and its inhabitants. Hell had swallowed Earth, and its demons walked with sorry humanity.

But there were people to fight it. Men and women, chosen for their strength, their character, their skill. They were given tasks, they learned the weaknesses of the different creatures, and eventually specialized in one specific type of Hellbeast.

"Eponine!" a voice shouted.

A young woman, olive-skinned, brown-eyed and dark-haired, stopped short, closing her eyes in trepidation before slowly turning.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," the man said sternly. He was middle-aged, with a close-cropped, graying haircut and a beard that matched. "I want you to patrol tonight."

The girl, Eponine, clenched her jaw. "I promised my brother I would be home tonight. He needs me. You have Musichetta, send her instead."

"Don't question me," he scolded. "I'm sending you."

When Eponine opened her mouth to protest, the man cut her off. "You are a vampire slayer, Jondrette. This is your job. This is your duty. You were chosen to protect the people of the world, and you will patrol tonight."

"One of those people I have to protect is my brother, Javert," she snapped. She loved the man, but he so frequently forgot that she was one of the rare slayers who had people at home to take care of. She had yet to lose everything, and she planned on keeping it that way. "I have a duty to him, too. And I promised him I would be there tonight. Send Musichetta instead."

Without waiting for his response, Eponine turned on her heel. She knew that Javert would probably punish her later for her insubordination, but she didn't care. Gavroche needed her.

Eponine was a vampire slayer. One of few slayers, in fact. Most of the women who became slayers died young.

It was not a fate she coveted.

In fact, she hated everything this life. But she had been chosen, as Javert constantly reminded her, by a power bigger than herself. And since he was her Guardian – the Guardian of all the slayers in this quadrant – and essentially her boss, it was he she answered to.

She was on the train, headed home to her brother. The dark world rushed by her, and she wondered how many vampires were out and active tonight.

She hated them with a burning passion. When they Turned, they kept their souls, but the bloodlust was so intense that they rarely heeded what little remained of their consciences. Eventually, most lost themselves in the Hunger or went insane from the guilt of what they did when their urges were unbearable. Most that she had met, however, loved killing. She had yet to meet a truly guilty vampire.

True to legend, they could not be in sunlight, and a stake to the heart or a clean swipe of the head from the shoulders would kill them immediately. Crosses, churches, hallowed ground – all unbearable to them. They couldn't even speak the name of God; that's how damned they were. They were vicious, evil creatures, and she wanted nothing more than to kill them all.

She hated being a killer, but she loved the fight, loved the moment when they lost. She would watch them victoriously, almost arrogantly, as they died in front of her. It gave her a rush, and afterwards, she would run through the streets, high on adrenaline, hungry and horny and happy.

She would find Montparnasse when she could, but otherwise she would grab a burger and indulge at least one of her urges until the high wore off and the real world crashed down on her again.

Several weeks later found Eponine back on patrol and deep in the throes of combat with a vampire. She could almost taste her victory when she felt, rather than saw, the presence of more of the loathsome bloodsuckers.

Panic bubbled up in her; she faltered and was knocked to the ground. She could feel blood trickling down from her brow, and her opponent, standing above her now, bared his teeth menacingly. She was surrounded

"Good job, little 'un," a grating woman's voice cooed.

Eponine felt her insides go cold. From her place on the ground, she stared up into the eyes of her mother.

She had hated her parents when they were alive, and had not been surprised when the police showed up one night, delivering the news of their deaths. She was, however, surprised when she saw them months later, their faces twisted as they sucked a woman dry.

But that was years ago, well before she was a slayer.

"Hello little Eponine," the creature that was once her mother sang.

Eponine pounced, fighting like a madwoman. But she was outnumbered; she only managed to slay the original vampire she was battling before she was repeatedly beat down… by her mother and her father and the rest of their gang.

Her father wrenched her head back by her hair, exposing her neck. This is it, she thought, fighting against those who were pinning her to the ground. I'm about to become another dead slayer.

The vampire broke her skin with his teeth, followed on the other side by her mother, and Eponine heard herself cry out. It all seemed to be happening from somewhere else; she knew and understood that she was dying, but she couldn't feel it, barely noticed it. Heaviness spread through her body, and her eyes began to get heavy.

Just before they closed, she became aware of a movement to her left. Her mother was ripped away from her neck.

Then everything went black.

When Eponine woke, she felt like she had been out drinking all night. Her body was heavy, her head was pounding, and she felt sick.

When her eyes adjusted to the daylight seeping in through a crack in the curtains, she looked around – turning her head slowly so as to prevent the exaggeration of her nausea and headache.

The room was simple, bare. There was some framed art on the gray walls, though her eyes were too weak to make out the pictures. A small flatscreen TV was on a small bookshelf that was packed with more books than DVDs, and even more books were piled on the dresser near the bed, as well as on the nightstand next to her. Those, she could make out: The World According to Garp, an anthology of the works of Sartre, Catch-22.

The bedspread was red, the sheets were white. Thick, black curtains were pulled together, though a ray of bright sunlight streamed through a crack.

Where was she?

Eponine wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was several pages into The World According to Garp (whoever lived here had great taste in literature – this was one of her favorite books) before a gentle knock rapped on the door and it opened.

A man stepped in. Tall, curly blonde hair, casually dressed in dark jeans, a white v-neck t-shirt (that gave her a peek of just a little hair on his chest below a defined collarbone), and a black jacket. He was like a marble statue come to life. His eyes, she noticed, were impossibly blue, and his face was achingly handsome. A small bit of stubble covered his jaw and the top of his neck. She had no idea whatsoever who he was.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked. Eponine, in spite of herself and the weirdness of the situation, found that she liked his voice.

Instead of answering – Eponine hated answering direct questions, especially when she didn't know the inquirer – she countered, "Who the hell are you, and how did I get here?"

The man perched himself on the edge of the bed, purposefully staying as far from her as he could. Still, he smirked at her. "I saved your life last night, Slayer. You were outnumbered by the Thénardier Coven, and they would have killed you."

Eponine glared at him. "They took me by surprise," she grumbled. Then, "How did you know I'm a slayer?"

The man snorted. "You slayers wear your rank like a badge of honor. It's impossible not to know."

Eponine actually felt a little affronted, even though he had answered the question lightly.

He shrugged, apparently aware of the insult, and added, "Plus I was watching you."

"What?" she asked, dumfounded and staring at him.

The man grinned again. "I was following the Thénardier Coven, and so were you. You fell for their bait, you know. They were planning to ambush you. You should be more careful," he admonished.

Eponine raised her chin indignantly, but said nothing.

"Yeah, you would've died if it weren't for me," he continued.

He was actually fishing for a thank you. She couldn't believe it.

"Slayers are only women," she pointed out, ignoring his comment.

He ignored hers as well. "You're sleeping in my bed, you know. I saved your life, brought you back here at my own personal risk, nursed your wounds. A 'thank you' wouldn't be unwelcome," he said pointedly. It angered her that he seemed to find all of this so humorous.

She sniffed, realizing that he wouldn't talk about anything else unless she voiced her gratitude. "Thank you," she said tightly.

He smiled. Dear god that was a beautiful smile. "Why, you're welcome," he deadpanned.

"Now, who are you? Where am I?" she asked impatiently.

The man frowned. "You may stay as long as you need. At least, until you are well enough to make it home. Get some rest, and I'll bring you some food. You need your strength," he said, ignoring her questions. He stood, reaching the door in two short strides.

"Why won't you answer me?" she asked, before he could take his leave.

He stopped, hand on the doorknob, the door partially open. Then he shrugged, turning back towards her and seriously replying, "This is the last time you'll ever see me, so it doesn't matter." Then he was gone.

Montparnasse was a vampire.

What was worse, he now belonged to the Thénardier Coven. They were the most violent of the covens in this part of the world, and the most deadly. But also one of the biggest.

Javert had lost many a slayer trying to eradicate their ranks, their power.

Eponine was determined not to become one of them. Especially since she was the human daughter of the clan leaders.

But Montparnasse had been her last friend from her old life. He was in love with her, as a human, but he knew she was uninterested in him, even before she had become a slayer. Still, he had let her use him (not that he didn't console himself with some on the side, anyway – he was no virtuous man).

She felt guilty about how she had treated him now, though. He hadn't deserved to be used for sex. He was a good looking guy, and could've found someone who might have loved him back, even if he had some issues with alcohol and was kind of a klepto.

Eponine found that she was crying as she drove the stake into his heart. She hadn't noticed during their fight, as she was far too entranced by their dance to the death. But she would not lose.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him as he died.

This time, she felt neither hungry nor happy, and definitely was not horny.

It was Montparnasse that she had gone to for that reason. And here she was, responsible for his death, in so many more ways than just this one.

When she looked up, tears flowing freely from her eyes, she thought she saw a flash of blue eyes and blonde hair disappearing into the shadows, but she couldn't be sure.

Marius, Azelma, and Gavroche were the only good things in her life anymore.

She had met Marius not long after becoming a slayer, and had fallen in love with him almost immediately. Sometimes when she had gone to Montparnasse, it was because she wanted Marius, and she could close her eyes with the other man and pretend that he loved her too.

The thought caused a wave of guilt to flow through her body. The hurt of Montparnasse's death (by her hand) was still very close.

Marius was kind to her, though. He was a sweetheart, always stopping to chat and inquire after her and her sister and brother, always ensuring that she was uninjured and being safe on her patrols.

She hoped that he might someday fall for her too. Eponine felt less damaged and depressed and hopeless around him. Perhaps he would even be willing to put up with the uncertainty of her life, her future, for a few passionate years by her side.

But one evening he ran up to her, more excited and worked up than she had ever before seen him.

"'Ponine! Oh, 'Ponine, I've fallen in love," he told her dreamily, taking her hands in his and spinning her gaily.

For a fleeting moment, Eponine thought her meant her.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Her hair is long and so blonde, her eyes are beautiful, and my god she probably has a wonderful soul to match."

Eponine gave him a strained smile.

"Can you find her for me, 'Ponine? You know your way around, and you're good at finding people."

Before she could stop herself, Eponine heard herself agreeing to help him.

She found the blonde beauty, all right.

Her name was Cosette.

She was the daughter of Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean was the patriarch of the Fauchelevent Coven.

That idiot Marius had gone and fallen for a vampire.

Jealousy and contempt bubbled up inside of Eponine. She didn't know what to do with herself. Or with Marius. And when she had told him what she had learned, he had dismissed it.

"Not all vampires are bad, 'Ponine," he insisted. Eponine wanted to punch him for his stupidity. He might as well have been suggesting that he take a leisurely swim in the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. "She's a good one, I just know it. Besides, the Fauchelevent Coven has always been fairly peaceful. They don't attack humans, not like the Thénardier Coven or the Tholomyes Coven or the others."

Eponine stormed out, going on a hunt.

She would kill something tonight. She could only hope that it was a vampire, not that idiot, love struck boy she had left in the bar.

A few hours later, Eponine was on her third kill (she had been on the offensive tonight, though it wasn't strictly protocol to hunt alone and without a secure plan that Javert knew).

That's when she saw him.

When the vampire woman was dead, Eponine spun on her heal, flicking her sweaty hair out of her eyes.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded.

The blonde man regarded her seriously. "You seem angrier tonight than usual."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you stalking me?"

He gave this some consideration, before replying, "More like ensuring that you don't get yourself into any sticky situations again."

She took an involuntary step closer. His eyes were so blue. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You're not like the other slayers."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He thought for a moment. "They're all driven by something. You just go through the motions, but you're so talented. What's keeping you from rising to your full potential? You could be the best slayer alive, if you wanted. You could eradicate the entire Bloodluster population if only you tried."

Eponine regarded him incredulously. "I don't even know you, I'm not talking to you about my reasons for slaying!"

He was watching her closely, looking for something in his face. "Are you afraid of the good you can do?"

Her face darkened. "Look, bro, my reasons for slaying are my own, and are certainly none of your business. And, I will have you know, I'm not afraid of anything."

"Whatever you say," he scoffed.

Eponine shoved him back angrily; he grinned, lazily taking a step back to keep his balance. It only pissed her off more.

"You're intriguing, little slayer," he said, quirking a half-smile at her.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "And you're an annoying jackass, mystery asshole."

He laughed at that.

Eponine still did not know his name, but she began to enjoy his somewhat constant presence when she patrolled. Somehow, he always seemed to pop up in time to see her fight, and ended up staying with her until her patrol was finished just before dawn. Then they would go their separate ways.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked as they walked slowly together through the empty streets. No one was ever out at this time of night except for the slayers or the occasional other fighter. She often wondered what his specialty was.

"Don't you?" he countered.

Somehow he always kept things balanced between them. She wasn't sure whether he answered her questions with questions of his own because that's what she did or because he wanted to maintain a certain balance between them. She was fine with boundaries, but the more time she spent with him, the more curious she became. She liked this marble man, this beautiful boy that seemed to gleam with the light of the sun even at night. She wanted to be his friend. She enjoyed hearing about his true friends, the ones that knew him as more than the Marble Man, and she found relief in telling him about her own fucked up life.

Rather than taunting her by knowing her name (which she had never actually told him) while she did not know his, he mostly referred to her as "Slayer" or "Little Slayer." She couldn't decide whether the whole thing was creepy and whether or not she liked his nicknames, nor could she decide if, when he did call her by her name, the shiver that went down her spine was because it sounded so foreign on his tongue or if it was because she liked hearing her name on his lips.

They had become friends, somehow. She wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but she truly did appreciate that he had saved her life, and he hadn't left her alone since, for whatever reason, and she had grown to like his company.

He was driven. He talked a lot about his dreams of helping the people, saving them from these circumstances, finding a way to eradicate the violent covens and hopefully rehabilitate the rest.

Eponine was less in favor of rehabilitation, but her Marble Man insisted that not all covens were violent like Thénardier. He told her frequently that she was blinded by her hate for her parents and what they had become. When he said this, she told him to fuck off and mind his business, usually storming off and leaving him behind. And he usually let her go.

It irritated her to no end that he knew her so well – seemingly without even trying – when she knew nothing about him. Was she that easy to read? He always seemed to guess her emotions – which she had spent so many years learning to hide – without any effort at all. He was always telling her about her potential, about how her circumstances could improve if she only tried a bit harder. He knew her name, he knew her story, but she knew nothing about him. Not even his name.

So one night, she asked him. They had been friends now for a few months. He had watched her fight, had even stepped in a few times when she got a little too close to death for his comfort (though she loved the rush that just escaping death gave her).

"What's your name? You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you."

He was silent for a long moment, and Eponine was fully expecting him to change the subject or stay quiet until she felt humiliated enough by her prying to change it herself, just as he always did. But tonight:

"I'm Enjolras," he told her quietly.

She froze in shock, unable to keep walking. He had actually told her. Her Marble Man had a name, and he had finally given it to her.

After a tense moment, in which she stared at him with an unattractively open mouth and he stared back with trepidation and dark eyes, he stepped up to her. She couldn't read his face as he searched hers, slipping his hand into her own.

Eponine wasn't sure what he found in her face, but he must have been satisfied because he was suddenly turning away, tugging on her hand to pull her with him so they could resume their walk.

But she didn't move. Instead, she tested his name, whispering it into the slight wind. "Enjolras…."

He immediately turned when she said his name, cupping the side of her face with his hands and bringing his lips urgently to hers.

Eponine was waiting for him; her lips parted almost immediately against his, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed herself into him just as he pulled her closer with his free arm.

Enjolras deepened the kiss, meeting the tongue that had only moments ago held his name so tenderly. She shivered as his hand traveled down her rocky spine to rest at the slight valley that had formed at the small of her back.

He kissed her passionately, and she rose to meet the challenge, just as she did with her slaying. His kisses moved from her lips to her jaw, to her neck, to her collarbone. His hand preceded the actions of his lips, tracing their route before he made it. Now, his fingertips traveled down her chest, lips following as he unzipped the jacket she was wearing to reveal her cleavage.

Her hands were entwined in his hair and god she had forgotten how good this felt, and his fingertips and lips and tongue had just reached the top of her breasts when he cried out in pain, leaping away from her.

Eponine stared as a bit of smoke rose from his fingers, as though he had been on fire. He was staring at her with a torn, almost heartbroken, and pained expression.

She knew that she was staring back in horror. Her hand found the pendant buried in her cleavage – a silver cross. It was meant to protect her from her foe.

Anger like she had never before felt suddenly overtook her and she wanted nothing more than to kill him where he stood.

He just continued to stare.

"You're a fucking vampire!" she screamed at him. She could hear the hurt and anger and fear in her voice. What had she done?

"Eponine–."

"No!" she snapped, cutting him off. The way he had implored her with her name – without even needing to say anything else – had twisted her heart in her chest. "If you ever fucking come near me again I will stake you through the heart, and cut your head off, and cause you a lot of fucking pain as I do it!"

Enjolras listened to her scream, holding his burned hand in the palm of his uninjured one. Staring at her with almost heartbroken eyes.

Then he was gone.

#enjonine #enjonine fanfic #enjonine fanfiction #enjonine fic #eponine x enjolras #enjolras x eponine #e/e #é/e

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callmeunstable · 4 years

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Angels & Demons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Characters: Reader

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic and I decided to place it in the universe of the greatest of the greatest. Geralt of Rivia! I don’t know where this will go 100%, but I know it’s going to be interesting. 😄 The reader starts of in our modern world and stumbles into the universe of The Witcher. I take my information mostly from the books and games but my fic is set based of the Netflix series so it’s basically beginners friendly.☺️

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Song:

“Two face, two face, yeah Black, white, left, right, yeah Up, down, all night, yeah Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train“

The music made her headphones vibrate. Probably loud enough for everyone around her to hear. If there was anyone. She was alone, hiking in the forest. It was what she always did when her anxiety got the best of her. The city is loud and dirty, squeezed full with people that never look around. Never realizing what was going on in the real world. At least what that’s what they called their reality. She always thought it was foolish to believe that they were alone in this big of a universe. Impossible.

Some stones here and there made her trip but she didn’t stop. She knew where she wanted to go and she didn’t intend to stop before she reached her destination. Kicking some branches out of the way and silently passing other hikers that greeted her with waving hand. She didn’t like the people in the city. All of them were selfish and money orientated. Of course, so tried to earn some money as a health center receptionist at her university but only to keep her head above water. Her focus was on her degree in medicine. She wanted to be able to afford a good life for her and her dad.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

She slowed down and let herself down on the ground. Pulling her knees to her stomach and breathing in the fresh air of the trees. The pollution caused by cars and all of these different companies laying behind her. Closing her eyes and trying not to fall asleep. Her insomnia got worse on hot summer days like these. The missing air conditioning in her dorm room made it even worse. Two hours have to be enough to function. She couldn’t wait for the autumn to start. For the leaves to fall. And the crowds to shrink

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out-“

Her music was cut short and her eyes gazed at the screen. The Battery was almost empty. With an annoyed groan, she took off her backpack searching for her power bank. The only good thing summer had for her was the power of the sun being strong enough to charge the battery of the device. Still having her headphones in her ears. Just in case someone stumbled across and wanted to have a conversation. The easiest way to ignore people without seeming too harsh.

Her glance went up, analyzing anything she was able to catch. The mountains far back on the horizon hugged by a thick layer of clouds that protected them from any unwanted attention. The distance colored them in a blueish gray tone that would capture a lot of people. At least the ones who noticed and wanted to have a peerless experience.

Some strange black orbs were able to sneak into her daydream making her once again face the consequences of her lack of sleep. Slowly blinking she took a look at her watch. 2 pm. Still early. She just wanted to close her eyes for a few more minutes. To help her find her lost energy. Just in case she set her alarm for an hour and put her phone in the pocket of her pants. - “Everybody said that I'm falling, uh Took another line, I'm calling, uh I'm so sick of the nonsense, uh I'ma dive into the mosh pit, uh I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gunshot could solve 'em Tell my friends I'm sorry though T-T-T-Tell my sins to go. And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

The tones of her favorite song woke her up. Her headphones got disconnected while she was asleep. With panic caused by the rush of adrenaline, she paused the music. Taking a deep breath and enjoying the silence again. Her arms were stretched above her head and a yawn made it through her mouth. Slowly gaining back clear vision she looked up again. But something was different. The dusk was slowly setting in.

She failed to set her alarm correctly. But it could be worse, she wasn’t doing anything special today anyway. As she was standing up she looked for the mountains in the far, however, her view was blocked. Big deciduous trees rose in front of her. Maybe she fell asleep in a different place? A little far more into the forest?

She got herself up and started walking her way back. At least what she thought was the right way. Somehow everything looked a little different. As different as forests could look like. The hiker trail was gone. Slowly breathing away her risen heartbeat she tried to focus. It’s just the forest how bad can it be? She always found her way out of it. She got lost a couple of times whilst exploring new paths but still. The air felt different. Not as heavy as she was used to. The trees were able to give her better oxygen as in the city but they just couldn’t hold all of the smog back.

Her feet automatically began to walk faster and faster as time went by and nothing seemed familiar anymore. She tried to find her starting point again but that seemed rather impossible right now. There was still a lot of light left but everything seemed strange.

She started to run. Jumping over the rocks and logs that blocked her way. As she was trying to bridge over the next log she wasn’t able to see the small lowering that led to her stumbling and rolling a couple of feet down. ‘Great, just great.’

Her thoughts were sarcastic, helping her to cope with the panic rising in her throat.

She looked up and let out a short scream. Some big bright yellow eyes were looking at her from above. They belonged to a child with pale blue skin. At least it looked like a child. She didn’t dare to move one muscle, staring at the creature in front of her.

It was barely as tall as a 9-year-old and it’s skin made it look like it was suffocating. A rough crown made out of sticks sat on top of its head. It wore some pants that had seen better days. They seemed to be made out of a cheap fabric that was ripped in several places. A green scarf was hanging from its neck.

“Hello.” It could speak. His mouth was stretched to wild smile.

“It’s been some time since an ol’ villager got lost in ma forest. That was some fall you had. Are you alright?” Still staring at the creature she tried to get her words together.

“Ehm…yes I tripped and fell. I don’t think I’m hurt. Thank you.”

“Good to hear. So what’s your name? I’m James.”

She hesitated. She didn’t even know if this creature was human. She couldn’t trust just anyone.

“Alva. My name is Alva.”

“Nice to meet you, Alva. So what did ya run away from? Thought the Drowners were after ya.” Drowners? What the fuck are Drowners?

“Yeah so. Excuse me the question but you seem rather … blue?” She was scared to ask something like this but this little creature seemed friendly.

“Oh that. Have you never seen a good ol’ Godling? Because that’s just what I am indeed.” The little boy laughed and seemed to be happy to have found some company.

“That is a Godling?”

“You never heard of us amazing Godling?”

The little blue boy explained to her that Godlings are woodland creatures dwelling in burrows and moss-covered hollow stumps on the outskirts of human settlements. They are deeply rooted in their home territory and perform acts of care and guardianship to those dwelling near their burrows. They watch over people as well as animals, but, shy creatures by nature, they try to do so while remaining unseen. Godlings are drawn to joy and innocence, and so delight in the company of children and usually only show themselves to the young.

“That’s why I am talking to ya. You seem fun. At least you look funny.” The boy started to walk around her while lifting her flannel and poking her skin.

‘He’s the one looking like a tall version of a smurf. What is he talking about?’ Her thought rushes inside of her head, making her regaining the feeling of dizziness.

“So you’re telling me you’re some kind of magical creature as in Harry Potter?” The girl tried to order her thoughts by sitting down and trying to hold on to the facts the little guy was telling her. Maybe she was in a coma? Or dreaming? Possibly. These are the only explanations she could come up with.

“I don’t know anyone called Harry Potter. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Ok, listen up. You’re probably just part of my imagination so why don’t we have some fun while it lasts?” As long as she sleeping and lucid dreaming she could at least make the best out of it.

“Yes, let’s have some fun! I love singing, I love music! I heard some strange melody coming from your direction. That’s how I found you.” James started to do some little happy jumps and clapping.

“Oh, you mean this?” Alva took her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him.

“What witchy device is that suppose to be?”

“No magic. Technology. Let me show you.” She pressed on some Icons and song from earlier continued.

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out.”

The little one danced to the music and showed off some rather random dance moves. Spinning in circles, jumping up and down and throwing his hands in the air.

Still thinking of her lucid dreaming she joined her little Godling friend. Turning the music louder and louder they enjoyed themselves.

Until a growl broke the peace of the music. But both James and Alva were to focused on having von dancing to notice some strange noises. They didn’t hear it, down to the moment when the girl got hit by something sharp, making her fall to the ground.

“Don’t stop dancing Alva, you’re no fun.” The Godling still didn’t realize that Alva was sitting on the ground covering her bleeding upper arm with her hand. Looking up she saw the scariest creature she could’ve imagined.

In front of her is standing a sickly blue or green colored human, with slime and sludge oozing out of every pore and the acrid stench of rot wafting off of it. No, that wasn’t a human.

“James! What the fuck is that?” The girl cried for help.

Finally objectifying the situation, James was hurrying towards the creature when it rose its arm for another attack.

Covering her face Alva started to realize that this is the moment she was going to die. You can’t get hurt in a dream. That is just not possible. Her arm was on fire, giving her a pain she never had felt in her entire life. This was real. Waiting for the next hit but it never came.

Slowly she opened her eyes to see only James in front of her. The monster not in sight.

“Where did he-?” Completely shocked by the situation and being unable to talk, Alva starred at the boy.

“Don’t underestimate the power of a Godling. Nothing comes between me and my forest. And since you stumbled in it you’re a part of it.” He looked down at her bleeding arm and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You need a healer. As much as I’d love to I can’t heal it.”

The words barely got to the girl. She was scared for her life. She never believed something like this could happen. But one thing she knew for sure. This wasn’t her reality.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm falling from Eden.”

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grapefruitsketches · 4 years

Text

Always Have Your Back

For fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 4: Thankful

Rated T, 1,807 Words

Sizhui-centric, Junior Quarter, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mild Panic

Also available on AO3

It happened fast. One moment, they had the demon cornered, trapped under Jin Ling’s shaky but stable golden dome, the next moment, there was a sound of branches snapping, leaves rustling from behind and something – he didn’t see what – grabbed Sizhui from behind, pulling him back along with it into the dark woods.

Sizhui heard the surprised shouts, the calls of his name, before he and his captor were far out of earshot. And still, they kept moving, deeper and deeper into the woods.

Sizhui breathed in, filling his lungs as best he could against the crushing grip of the creature. He took a moment to assess, even as the backwards rushing of trees to his left and right made him dizzy.

He looked down, seeing purpled, decaying skin. Claws that doubled the length of the fingers gripped into his chest, his stomach. He ignored the flash of pain that accompanied seeing just how far in the claws dug.

This looked like the same sort of demon they’d been dealing with before. Vulnerable to being attacked on all sides, quick enough that fighting one on one was much harder.

But he wasn’t dead yet. So the demon must have had another motive, other than killing him outright.

And whether that motive was keeping him as its own or there was some more specific method it wanted to use to dispose of the young cultivator, there was no way it was good, though the former would give him more time to escape, he supposed.

Ok. So what could he reach?

The demon’s arms clamped his arms close to his body, and there was no way to contort his arm to reach his sword, and not much he could do with it even if he somehow could.

His sleeves then. What was in his sleeves? He tried to remember, moving his arms softly to see what he could find without attracting suspicion as the demon dragged him ever deeper, as the trees grew ever denser.

Perfect! His skin brushed paper. He was still carrying blank talisman paper from earlier – Wei-qianbei had been teaching him some basics these last few months and he had been practicing before he and his friends had set out on this night hunt.

Ok. Good. Talisman paper could help him do all kinds of things so long as he could cut his finger on something and manage to get the paper into his hand and somehow write the characters and symbols needed.

He bent his wrist, flinching in anticipation before… WHAM, a branch whacked into his fingers, slicing the skin. The branch had certainly let the blood flow, but had maybe broken a finger or two in the process. Something to worry about later, hopefully.

So now to shift the talisman paper down. Slowly… slowly. There!

The paper fell into his palm. He shifted it awkwardly to the tips of his pinkie finger and thumb, trying not to get any blood on it, hoping the air rushing by hadn’t dried the blood too quickly. He stretched his index finger back and touched the paper, relieved to find his finger slid across easily, plenty of blood still running freely, though he flinched as his maybe-broken-maybe-not finger pressed against the page.

He worked quickly, and, hoping the talisman was well drawn enough to work, stuck it onto the demon wherever he could reach.

The demon dropped like a stone, Sizhui able to celebrate only a moment before the ground met him and the demon. There was a loud crack, and Sizhui had no doubt that his arm had just broken. But that was not important right now.

Sizhui, as soon as they hit the ground, had been ready. The demon released its grip in its shock only momentarily, but Sizhui used this time to roll quickly away.

The demon was pinned to the ground by the charm, but this would not hold for long. Taking only a few moments to calm his breaths, Sizhui drew his sword, grateful that his sword arm had only potential finger fractures, not definite arm breaks. He swung his arm high.

But before he could lower the blade, three sets of arrows landed in the demon’s core. It struggled, shuddered, then lay still.

Sizhui stood, frozen in shock, arm still raised though the strike was now unnecessary. He blinked once, twice. The only sound his heart, pounding in his ears.

“Sizhui!” Jingyi’s voice shook him out of his trance. He lowered his sword, sheathing it.

He turned. Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi stumbled out from the brush into the small clearing created by the demon crashing down into it. He beamed widely at his friends, even as tears of fear, of relief, filled his eyes, “Y-you’re h-here!” he managed, voice shakier than he had anticipated.

“Of course we’re here, where else would we–“ Jingyi’s eyes widened, spotting the odd angle that Sizhui’s arm hung at, the tears in his robes where the monster had gripped him, the probably not insubstantial cuts on his face from the branches on the way down, “You’re hurt!”

“Ah,” Sizhui smiled weakly, “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.”

He really wished his knee hadn’t wobbled, buckled, just as he said that. He straightened back up quickly though.

“Sure you are,” Jingyi replied.

“You’re bleeding!” Zizhen said.

Jin Ling, eyes wide and staring at the place where Sizhui gripped his arm, said nothing, but moved over to Sizhui, sliding an arm under his (mostly) uninjured arm, supporting him.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jin Ling said.

And suddenly Jingyi was at his other side, gently supporting his back, avoiding touching his arm, “Yeah, let’s go. We sent up a signal. Help should be here soon.”

Sizhui’s smile wavered. “Help” would certainly mean some combination of Hanguang-jun, Wei-qianbei, and Wen-xiansheng, and if any of them saw him half-carried in like this…

“Ah, I’m really fine! I can walk!” Sizhui chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, “It was my arms, not my legs, remember?”

“Sizhui…” Zizhen said skeptically, casting his gaze backwards towards the clearing, the mess made by Sizhui and the demon’s fall, and traced the path from there up to Sizhui’s still bleeding wounds, his broken arm, “I don’t really know if you’re in a state where you should…”

Sizhui sighed, “Well… Zizhen, I think you said you brought bandages with you? Can we at least, ah, wrap the worst of it before we get back?”

Sizhui couldn’t see his face, but he knew Jingyi well enough to know he had just rolled his eyes, “You really think they’re not going to notice if we just ‘wrap up the worst of it’?”

Sizhui let a smile flicker across his face, “Are you refusing me treatment, Jingyi?”

“You know, everyone thinks you’re so nice, but sometimes, you’re insufferable.” Jingyi laughed, but he and Jin Ling set him down.

Sizhui closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing, on healing as Zizhen wiped his face clean with a dry cloth, wrapped his arm, his torso, and his fingers in bandages. Sizhui smiled gently, without opening his eyes, at his friend’s occasional sniffling as he uncovered more of the wounds, “I’m really ok, Zizhen.”

“Stop that.” Jin Ling cut in sharply.

Sizhui frowned, confused, “Stop what?”

“Stop just…” Jin Ling huffed in frustration, “Stop acting like we’re the ones who need help, who need comforting. You’re… you’re hurt! We should have been there to help you before, and now at least let us help you now!”

“But…” Sizhui was at a loss for words, concentration completely broken. He opened his eyes, “But you were there to help? I was the one who got caught off-guard, got taken, got…” his breath quickened, remembering those moments of fear. Where all he could do was consider whether he was in immediate or more long-term risk of harm. Moments where he wasn’t sure yet if he was defenseless, subject entirely to the demon’s whims.

“Sizhui?” Jingyi cut into his thoughts, voice full of concern.

“It’s… it’s nothing. Just thinking.” Sizhui smiled again.

“You know…” Jingyi crossed his arms, watching as Zizhen pulled the bandage tight around Sizhui’s arm, holding it in place, making Sizhui flinch involuntarily, “I don’t say this a lot, but I agree with Jin Ling. You’re allowed to lean on us, even just for a moment.”

Sizhui opened his mouth to protest, but lost any hope of winning this argument as Zizhen nodded easily alongside Jingyi’s comment.

If all three of them were agreeing, then he supposed maybe there was something to it. They all looked at him. Bandaging done, waiting for him to tell them how they should proceed, varying degrees of concern, skepticism, and disapproval on each of their faces.

“So?” Jingyi asked.

Sizhui relented, “Fine. I’ll take your help,” he smiled mischievously, “as long as none of you take any blame, or guilt from this?”

“No promises, but I’ll try.” Jingyi said, smirking as the other two nodded. He moved a hand back behind Sizhui, boosting him from one side as Jin Ling helped from the other.

“I’ll take it.” Sizhui laughed.

They chatted about nothing on the way back to the field in which they had started.

To Sizhui’s dismay, but also a little to his amusement, he spotted an endlessly pacing Wei Wuxian, a tense and stiff Hanguang-jun, and a nervous and watchful Wen Qionglin all waiting for them.

At the sound of movement, all three tensed, preparing to defend against anything that might emerge, but immediately relaxed at the sight of the four juniors. Smiling and (mostly) well.

At the sight of Sizhui, Wei Wuxian fussed. Hanguang-jun asked many questions. Wen Qionglin pulled out some tinctures he had brought “just in case.”

They made it back to Cloud Recesses, and Sizhui was sent immediately to bed – no arguing allowed. As Sizhui lay back on his bed, he thought about the day, the demon, the panicked moments when he had thought he was one his own, that if he couldn’t figure it out himself, it could be his end.

But now, reflecting on it, he realized he had had nothing to worry about. He was fine. He could take care of himself. He knew that. But even if he wasn’t, even if he couldn’t, those six people would always have his back, just as he would always have theirs.

Sizhui loved his family. He adored his friends. And even if, sometimes, they could be a little much, he was thankful for these six people. Six people who would be there for him. To rescue him, to tend to any injury, or to relieve any worry.

He smiled to himself as he tucked himself into his bed. He wasn’t alone. He would never be alone. And for that, he could only be grateful.

#untamed fall fest #lan sizhui #junior quartet #lan jingyi #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #cql #the untamed #mdzs

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blarrghe · 4 years

Note

♥ Dorian and Taren!

Look what you did, you made Dorian cry.

Lengthy emo feelings ahead. No cut because mobile sorry =/

Dorian had seen Taren cry. More than once, in fact. It wasnt that it happened often, just that the elf had quite a lot to contend with. There was no shame in it, and indeed Taren took very little shame in anything pertaining to his emotion. He was free with it; asking for help almost as easily as he offered it. Almost. The first time Dorian had seen Taren cry the whole thing had actually come to a rather dramatic head specifically because of the Lord Inquisitor's refusal to show vulnerability. But grief makes people do uncharacteristic things. It had done so to Taren; made him hide his fear and doubt behind unrelenting activity. Work work work, until the crash. Dorian had been there for the crash, and it had been the first time he'd been there, like that, for anyone.

Dorian had seen Taren cry a few times after that, not with a crash, but just for a moment under a hug at the end of a long day. And he had begun to understand that it was a reasonable thing to do, sometimes, to cry. The world was a very tumultuous and unhappy place, filled with demons and bandits and various vicious beasts. There was no shame in fear or grief or loneliness, and truly, it was ok to cry.

For other people.

For Dorian, a more suitable alternative had always been - and would remain - expensive, strong brandy. On the day he recieved news of his father's death, he found some in the cellars, and taking it without asking soon found himself a quarter of the way through the bottle, hunched over a desk at the top of Skyhold's mage tower. It was an unusual venue for him; he never had migrated over from the library after the tower was built. But the tower smelled like lyrium and thrummed with residual magic, and at the top of it it was cold, and quiet.

He rubbed a thumb over the letter in his pocket, and swirled the brandy in his glass. Father was dead. It had been coming long enough; he wasnt young, and his friends were mostly false ones, but it came on suddenly nevertheless. It also came with consequences. Opportunity, he reminded himself, to actually apply all that good-principled change he'd been dreaming up all his life. And Taren would understand, he always did.

Or he might not.

Another drink.

He might say he understood and then resent him.

A larger drink.

He might have reached it, that end he always knew would one day come.

He drained the glass.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket and poured himself another glass. His mother's writing was fine, her words matter of fact and devoid of emotion. He wouldn't have expected much more, and he didn't expect that she was at this moment taking the news any differently than he was; with a strong drink and a quiet moment alone. She would cry at the funeral, dramatically, and then gather up the fortune bequeathed to her and take a sojourn out to the family beach house. She'd likely be gone from the estate before his luggage arrived. Oh, but he did not want to have to live in that house again. He took another bitter sip, gritting his teeth against the thought that he had never really lived in that house at all.

Well, he chuckled dryly to himself, he could free all the slaves while mother was away. Have her come back to find him cooking his own meals.

All these lines of thought quickly led him back to the main point, which was that his father was dead, and he wasnt quite sure how he felt about it. But however he felt, it was unpleasant, and he sought to numb it with brandy.

They had exchanged a handful of letters, after that strained reunion in Denerim. His father had asked for a forgiveness he had never granted, and that even now he was not sure he could. There was some decency to the letters, a reluctant push toward reconciliation brought on, no doubt, by his father's reckoning with his own mortality; his death had resulted from illness in the end, not political motivation. And how very bitter that dance had felt. A father who had only marginally accepted him after years of pushback, asking to be heard out of love. Thanks to the letters, thoughts of his childhood had been digging into him since well before the eventual death, and the nostalgia in them was heartwrenching and infuriating. He had given his father many proud moments, impressing his early teachers and outshining his peers. He had almost been such a perfect son.

Dorian had answered every letter slowly, leaving them at the bottom of his long to-do lists. Mostly he had just wanted to avoid those conversations because he didn't exactly know what to do with them. What to do with a relationship so steeped in resentment? What to do with all the things that would never change, that he would never get an answer for? What to do now that there was nothing else he could ever say.

He should have written longer letters. He should have had a better father. He should have been a better son.

A memory slipped itself in uninvited between mild frustration and a growing fuzziness in his thoughts; a vacation, praise for learning some new spell, the giddy joy of being seven and already important. Pride. A good memory, a happy memory where his father was kind and his mother was sober and his legacy was exciting. It was always the warmest memories that left his heart cold.

He had spent about half his life a golden child, then in a flurry of dissillusionment and ideological exasperation, made a very deliberate show of throwing it all away. Rebellion and resentment had been his only modes of communication with either of his parents for years, and with more than enough good reason. Dead or not, some broken part of him would always be angry. And the parts of him that were whole knew well enough that his anger was justified.

He had idly imagined the familial fallout of death a number of times; in his darkest moments, he'd ruminated on the shadow he could cast with his own, and in fits of anger and heated verbal sparring, he'd passionately invoked his desire to see his father's. He had known for a very long time that ungrateful though it may seem, he wouldn't feel much troubled by its eventual occurence. He had assumed that his tears for matters concerning his legacy, his failures as a protege, and his mistreatment were long spent. But grief makes people do uncharacteristic things.

Drinking was probably not helping. When the first salty droplet fell into his brandy, his mind was already a rough sea of happy memories and unhappy reactions, unhappy memories and refreshed anger, unspoken rants and unwritten apologies. All the things that had only just begun to feel far away and over during his time in the South were back, emboldened by the discombobulated nature of a mind altered by drink. The waves crashed into him, and with an ugly wail and a choking breath, the rest of his tears spilled out from behind his eyes.

He crumpled the letter into a tight ball, and threw it across the room with all the force he could muster. Despite the force behind it, the wad of paper bounced off the wall and rolled along the floor with nothing more than a quiet patter. His violent little burst of energy only fueled things further, and then he was slamming a fist into the desk and pushing away the bottle of brandy in order to preserve it from a sudden urge to smash something.

A sob heaved itself from his throat, and he lowered his head into his hands to shake out the rest. Most of his complex feelings of anger and grief were swallowed up by curse words, and he let the colourful stream of them run through his head while his breaths hitched and broke under more sobs.

Taren had never seen Dorian cry. Not even when his voice had cracked and wavered in Redcilffe after confronting his father, not even when he had pulled him in tight and swearing under his breath after their close calls with death, not over anything. In fact, every distressing moment in Dorian's life seemed to be relayed with humour; a well developed mix of sarcasm and bravado. It wasnt that he was insensitive, the man had simply had a lot of practice maintaining his face, and letting that face fall was new and foreign territory. He would no doubt have given Taren a nonchalant explanation of what had happened in a day or two, the emotional impact always something you had to know him to hear. But Taren would. Dorian was a passionate man, and while he was wordy and quick witted, most of what he felt came through in action. He'd throw it all out there like it was nothing, then hold him in a desperate grip and sink his kisses deep into his bones, and that would say everything.

But Dorian wouldn't have that chance. Instead, as he wrestled with his composure with his head bent over the desk, Taren quietly ascended the stairs. Dorian didn't even realise he was there until his hand was on his back, rubbing gentle circles over his shoulder as another shaky breath jostled them up and down.

"Vhenan," his warm voice was quiet in his ear, a soft breath of a word that held so much. Exactly the right thing, and exactly the wrong thing, for it triggered a surprised inhale and an embarrassed crack in his voice as he tried to reply with some assurance that he was fine through the tears.

"What can I..."

Dorian took a few more breaths and rubbed at his eyes, forcing an unconvincing smile and reigning in the display.

"Nohing, Amatus. I'm fine, I'm fine."

Taren didn't move. His hands massaged Dorian's shoulders slowly, and a kiss landed in his hair. "Tell me what happened."

Dorian sighed, and nodded his head to the left just enough to signal Taren to where the crumpled letter sat on the floor. Taren took the few steps across the small room and picked it up. With a cautious look to Dorian first, he undid its folds and smoothed the letter out. He read it slowly, eyes scanning the page and then flicking up to Dorian again with close-knit brows. "Oh," he whispered as he finished taking in the news, "oh, ma vhenan."

This was not their spot up in the library where things were comfortable. Dorian wasn't hunkered down in a cozy little alcove with two comfortable seats and the homey clutter of books and candle stubs and notes, he was bent over a solitary desk, in a small and dim little room at the top of a tower. When Taren returned to his side he tucked himself in at a kneel and took up one of Dorian's hands.

"So, shall we make it quick and painless then?" Dorian asked, forcing another of those smiles that didnt quite make it.

"What?"

"My leaving."

"Dorian," he said it like no.

"Dont tell me you want to draw this out. I dont think I can stomach more crying." Even as he said it, his voice cracked over the words.

Taren sighed, and gave Dorian's hand a solemn squeeze. "I do though," Taren replied, "I love you." Dorian sat up, turning his face reluctantly to Taren's. "I wont make promises for myself. You dont have to do any more crying." He smiled at him, all real, "but if you must leave, I'd like to draw it out for as long as I possibly can."

"Bastard."

Taren chuckled. "It's too soon to point that back at you, isn't it?" A rare moment of pithyness from the Inquisitor. It worked, Taren was almost never anything but achingly sincere, and the surprise of a joke in extremely poor taste jolted Dorian to an actual snort of a laugh.

"Maker, I must look a fool. I've been wishing for this day for years."

Taren frowned. "You're not a fool."

"I kept putting off his letters..." He felt a need to explain something, a reason for the hysterics. "I should have, I should have..."

"Listen to me," Taren was suddenly serious again, taking both his hands and fixing him with a knowing gaze. "Whatever happens, whatever you need, I'm here." Dorian felt his face scrunching up again against his permission. "I love you." Taren said again, every time a lightning bolt. He swallowed, and hid his wretchedness in Taren's shoulder.

He had thought he was done. The fit of shaking and wailing interrupted by the warmth and comfort of Taren's voice, the masking power of a joke, the space enough between thoughts to find some ground to stand on. But as his eyes closed over Taren's shoulder and he felt arms wrap close around him, something else washed over him. Being held somehow made it all better, and all worse. His body convulsed, inhales entering his lungs in jagged chunks, just one bit of air at a time. His eyes left a damp spot in the soft fabric of Taren's thick sweater. Taren's hands pressed firmly into his back, one moving slowly up and down. His own hands clung to the wool of Taren's sweater in tight fists. The shattering breaths grew longer bit by bit, until they were deep and calm again. Taren always smelled a bit like campfire smoke, underneath notes of sea water and fresh pine. He inhaled, buoying himself on the familiar comfort of the embrace until his eyes were truly dry.

When he pulled away Taren had another smile ready for him, though his eyes were wide and full of concern. Dorian responded with a watery smile of his own. He pushed himself away from the desk, his chair sliding roughly on the wood paneled floor, and reached across the desk to retrieve the bottle he'd shoved aside.

"Brandy?" He offered, pouring a finger of it into his glass and tossing it quickly back.

Taren leaned on the desk, still watching him with an affectionate gaze. "Yes," he agreed, "but let's go somewhere else."

Taren rose to his feet and Dorian followed. Before anything, Taren took his hand and pulled him into a kiss. And without ever letting go, he led him away from the tower.

#dragon age #dai #dragon age fanfic #my writing #writing prompts #cw death #dorian pavus #taren lavellan #my ocs #pavellan #hurt/comfort #angst #cw for dealing with the death of shit parents??#heavy shit #and why yes i do need 7000 hugs and am using fic as an outlet #how could you tell?

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tiefling-queer · 3 years

Note

For D&D character ask, for any and/or all of your characters;

1, 5, 8, 15, 23, 29, 64, 65, 69(Nice)

i’m gonna answer these for whichever characters have the most interesting answers, skipping some for repeats:

1. why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

kip (wizard, school of necromancy): crisis of faith midway through grave cleric training, spurred on by him sucking at the whole cleric thing (9 wisdom babyyy) while also being a nerd (18 int babyyyy)

baylock (shadow sorcerer/rogue): the sorcerer part is a side effect from being born dead during a cataclysmic event that tore portions of the material plane asunder. the rogue part is because he got in with a bad crowd as a kid. he’s been gaining levels in sorcerer as he traverses the freaky magic wasteland, utilizes his magic more, and gets a little closer to death each time someone hits his squishy arcane caster frame too hard

izak (gunslinger, graveslinger): sometimes you’re a jaded teen-equivalent runaway bumming around the river kingdoms and some dude comes up to you and is like ‘im a neutral evil mercenary, but if you take this gun and learn to shoot, i can also be your dad’. and then later you’re a 20-something equivalent who just realized that you don’t actually want to be an evil mercenary so you run away again and this time some dude comes up to you and is like ‘i’m a priest of sarenrae and an exorcist, and if you believe you can be redeemed, i can also be your dad.’ and then you learn how to shoot ghosts so you can be useful while this guy teaches you about being a better person.

5. do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity?

izak: (deep lore dump) izak’s family was, at one point, pious people, and it was some ancestor’s warped perception of what piousness is and what was worth sacrificing in the name of good that led to the entire mess that is izak’s face. izak’s a devout worshiper of sarenrae now and hopes to maybe be the assistance someone needs to put themselves on a better path the way brak was for him, but there’s still a part of him that believes that, because he’s a tiefling, he’s never going to really be saved, and that his soul will eventually belong to the asura it was promised to.

8. what are three songs that suit them?

sydel: buckets of blood by rufus rex (tw for self harm, link goes to spotify because i can’t find this track on its own on youtube), thank god that i’m not you by himalayas, and bruises by fox stevenson (full playlist here)

15. do they trust their party? why or why not?

kip: he trusts them with his life, he just doesn’t trust them to understand where he’s coming from. he’s hiding some really heretical opinions that he knows at least maya (the celestial warlock) won’t agree with. he doesn’t like to talk about his family trauma, his past, or anything that he thinks the party can use to cleverly deduce that the notes he’s been scribbling are about raising the dead and theoretical conduits, prices, and replacements for the soul (he’s a little paranoid and might be giving them more credit than they deserve)

baylock: baylock might trust morgran, but he doesn’t trust surina at all, not since she and the (presumed deceased) swashbuckler tried to use him as a scapegoat when they were being interrogated by evil government warlocks. and even then, he only trusts morgran to not leave him for dead. baylock’s a fiercely loyal person by nature, so he’s been trying to keep his party at arms length so he won’t be betrayed again. the closest he came to starting to trust them was right before he found out that they told the evil government warlock that they’d turn him in in exchange for their freedom when they were captured a while back (whether or not they actually intended to do so is irrelevant for baylock - he spent 5 years in prison after being his old thieve’s guild’s fall guy, he’s not about to let it happen again)

23. how do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? how do they feel about their name?

kip: kip’s given name is joffric ravenhall. he’s been going by the alias of ‘greenbough’ on the offchance that people have heard of his family or knew his father at some point, since he really doesn’t want to explain why he’s not a priest of the raven queen by now. ‘kip’, however, is what his family and friends call him, so it was a bit of a big deal to him when he told the party to call him kip, since he hadn’t been around anyone he considered family or friend in a few years. kip’s reeling a little bit over suddenly being called an ‘adverturer type’ - to him, he’s still just a transient weirdo who picks up odd jobs.

baylock: baylock craft’s name isn’t actually baylock craft (not yet anyway lol), he stole his late cellmate’s identity to take advantage of the jailbreak that came a few days too late. his name, ekleipsis caldor, isn’t exactly something he identifies with so much as what he was once called. his father never wanted him but got stuck with him when his mother bounced, so ‘caldor’ is more a formality than anything. ‘ekleipsis’ is the greek root of ‘eclipse’, for the eclipse he was born during - but moreso, ‘ekleipsis’ doesn’t mean ‘to be covered’ - it means ‘a disappearance or abandonment’. an event where the sun abandons the sky. baylock is a walking abandonment issue. he hasn’t taken a virtue name because he thinks it’s performative (which is where him officially taking the name ‘baylock craft’ as his name and not the identity of someone he’s pretending to be comes in - it’s the equivalent of naming himself for the virtue of rebellion without naming himself something stupid and embarrassing like ‘rebel’.)

izak: izak just got done being haunted by a ghost wizard who’s obsessed with names, probably because he’s had 4. izak was born dalethiel oakleaf back when he was an elf, but when he ran away after waking up as a tiefling he went by dally. then he was a mercenary for a while and his edgy mercenary name was viper. and then, when asked for his name by the cleric of sarenrae who rescued him in the wilderness, he said he didn’t have one worth giving, so the cleric told him he’d just call him izak then. that’s who izak is now, as far as he’s concerned, or at least who he wants to be. as he told the ghost wizard who tried to torment him with his birth name, that’s not his name anymore. dalethiel oakleaf was a young elf who died on his 50th birthday. izak’s got a perfectly good name, given to him by a kind man, and he doesn’t want to think about the time in his life he went by dally or viper.

karif: karif always introduces himself formally with his full name, in the family-given-familiar name pattern - ‘ixenvari karifgethisk fraurirthos, er, but you can just call me karif.’ this is because karif’s nickname, fraurirthos, the one his childhood friends and family call him, translates from draconic literally to ‘breathes secrets’. his nickname is snitch. he’s a little embarrassed about it. but ‘karifgethisk’ is a bit of a mouthful for those who don’t speak draconic, so shortening it to ‘karif’ suits fine.

29. who would they save? who would they be saved by?

this has been a tough one, i’m not sure how to answer it for anyone.

64. do they value mercy or justice more?

kip: this honestly depends on his mood and your definitions of both ‘mercy’ and ‘justice’. he’s very easily led away by his emotions - both pity and compassion that could sway him to lean more towards mercy, and rage that tends to harden his heart and clear his head. he’s more than down to torture someone if he deems them evil, and he’ll destroy creatures like aberrations, fiends, and undead without a second thought, but he views life as a very precious thing - even when torturing an evil demon-summoning spellcaster, he still was trying to find ways out that resulted in that spellcaster getting out alive. this has come back to bite the party in the ass, since it was kip’s insistance that the party not kill all the guards on their little anarchy stunt that got them blackmailed to infiltrate the evil army of darkness, which is something he most certainly DOES NOT want to do.

65. what is holding them back?

kip: kip’s hang-ups about the soul and how he was raised are holding him back from becoming a stronger necromancer, while his grief and refusal to accept mortality hold him back from possibly still being some flavor of raven queen follower.

baylock: baylock’s hesitance and confusion over what he wants are holding him back from either fully embracing the rebellion or ditching it to get vengence

izak: izak’s self-loathing and fear of himself hold him back from interacting with people and forming meaningful relationships outside of the handful of people who’ve found out he’s a tiefling.

69 (nice): how would they describe their party members?

kip:

maya is... complicated. kip admires her pragmatism and her faith - it reminds him of his older sister, and he’s been missing that rock in his life. however, he butts heads with her a lot, because he finds her cold duty-bound outlook to be pointlessly cruel.

meera is wicked smart and talented, if a little misguided at times. he’s very big brother protective of her, always trying to offer her his dagger because ‘it’s a nice dagger’ (it’s +1)

amity is a good kid, and smarter than some may give him credit for. he’s fun to be around, and usually a level-headed presence, which makes it even more surprising just how ok he is with killing.

baylock:

morgran is an asshole, but is also probably the only person in the group who believes in this whole rebellion thing, so that counts for something. he’s decent people, can probably be trusted to see a mission through and not do anything completely stupid, but since he’s decent people he’s probably going to insist on staying on this path of lunacy with delusions of ‘taking down the Summit’. also, morgran shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone they meet, because he’s an asshole, and doesn’t bother pretending to be personable like baylock does.

surina is insane. she’s deranged, like everyone who tries to live outside the sanctums is. also just racist at times. when their cover gets blown or when they get mixed up with people they should be talking down, she’s gonna be the reason they all get killed.

porthos is was an idiot and a liability and just proved him right by running off and doing something rash and probably getting himself killed and also maybe compromising the whole rebellion which baylock doesn’t care about, so why does he feel like he should have done more to stop Porthos’ demise?

#really excited about these questions! thanks anon!#emo poetry #ask games #Anonymous #sorry this one took longer than the others #ask game from 3 billion years ago

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tanoraqui · 4 years

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ok my last review of my own SPN fic from the early 2010s gets its own post bc the other two were getting long and honestly this was more Good Omens fic than anything. Literally I lost steam on it when faced with the prospect of writing Supernatural characters other than Crowley (the fic, of course, being centered around the idea that What if That Was Proper, GO Crowley, and if so, How).

Once More Unto the Breach proposes that, shortly after the events of Good Omens, Aziraphale was yanked back to Heaven and tortured for a while until he, ah, saw the light again (with input of later seasons, I suppose I’d include Naomi in this somewhere), and Crowley was yanked back to Hell where he was tortured...and just kinda. Tortured. A lot. And had his grace stripped out, this one of the last of the angels who’d followed Lucifer in his fall (and idea SPN never got into but hella could’ve tbh; it fucks). And then, now that he was basically a normal mortal, for some reason they dropped him back in the timestream in like 1500s? Scotland with no memory, planning to let him lead a normal human life and then SURPRISE you’re back in Hell! Bitch! Suffer!

Except instead of leading a normal human life, he (per canon spn) sold his soul to a crossroads demon for a bigger dick, and then, uhhhh, paperwork got lost and he just kinda ended up in the shuffle as a normal demon working his way up through the ranks, eventually becoming the SPN!Crowley we know? Aziraphale, meanwhile, has been sent out again to participate in the newly destined Apocalypse, Michael vs. Lucifer - ineffable!

And then, ofc, they meet a time or two...mostly very awkward and Aziraphale is like, “he’s superficially familiar but no, it’s obviously not My Crowley - who was evil and lied to me, ofc”, and Crowley is like, “what a weirdo.”

The Apocalypse fails to happen again. Aziraphale attempts to quietly duck out of Heavenly duties and resume his bookstore in London. Ch.2 of this fic - which I wrote! - is a pretty solid fic all on its own, of alternatingly Castiel’s and Raphael’s side showing up and trying to persuade him to join their team, and Aziraphale trying very hard to politely send them away before eventually snapping and joining Castiel. In the middle of a fight in a random heaven that happens to be an early 19th century British Navy ship in the height of a storm, because fanfiction is for SELF-INDULGENCE and nothing else.

Actually, u know what, just

“Is that so,” Ezekiel asked softly, playing with his blades. He had three now, his own and Castiel’s. “And how, exactly, are you going to stop me?

Aziraphale made up his mind. “He’s not,” said the bookseller, stepping between them and spreading his wings like a shield in front of the wounded rebel. “I will.”

“What are you doing?” hissed Castiel. “You do not need to die!”

Ezekiel laughed. “You?” He stepped back mockingly, and spread his arms in challenge. “Little brother, you are even lower class than the pathetic excuse for an angel cowering behind you. Who are you to challenge I, Ezekiel, Weapons Master of the Heavenly Host?”

Aziraphale stood up straight, spreading his wings wider. Lightning flashed for the first time in the tempestuous sky above, illuminating their feathery expanse.

“I am Aziraphale,” he stated, “Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden.” The scabbard appeared at his side like it always did, like it hadn’t done for over 6000 years. He reached down and drew the sword, hilt conforming perfectly to his grip. The blade caught fire instantly, and any raindrop that came near evaporated to steam before it touched the flame. “And I wield the Sword of War.”

Ezekiel’s step backwards was genuine this time, as was the fear in his voice.

“The Sword is a Weapon of Heaven, and belongs to Raphael!” he managed.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t,” Aziraphale said gently. It was an elegant sword, long and thin and rapier-like, and very clearly meant to kill. “This is the blade given to my hand by Michael, Commander of the Heavenly Host, when we all trained together as brothers. Before all the senseless bureaucracy took hold. From me, it passed to the human Eve, and there it became a Symbol to the humans, of War. It’s their Weapon, really, so I will use it on their behalf. If Raphael considers that ‘rebellion’, then so be it.”

ANYWAY. So, Aziraphale joins Cas’s rebellion and mostly starts sorting records in the very neglected Library of Heaven that contains a book recounting the life of every single person ever, bc that’s my idea of heaven and I’m right. But also he needs to rescue the nice young rebel angel whose capture kinda prompted him into this decision in the first place, and that means breaking into the really serious heavenly prison area...so he goes to the new King of Hell and bargains to borrow one of the lost Treasures of Heaven (remember those, from s6?) that Crowley has ended up with. They agree: Aziraphale can have the Crown of Pollution thing for 24 Earth hours, and in return, at a time of his choosing, Crowley will get a treasure of Heaven to which Aziraphale has access for 24 hours.

Upon getting the Crown back, Crowley informs him that the treasure he’d like is...Aziraphale, actually. The Sword of War, if he wants to be fussy, and Aziraphale is welcome to come along with it! After all, surely a warrior of Heaven is as valuable as an artifact. “You want me to...smite your political enemies?” Aziraphale says slowly. “Sure,” says Crowley. “Also, come to tea for 10 minutes once a week or so and tell me hte latest news from your little war. I never said the 24 hours had to be consecutive.”

Obviously Aziraphale is Pissed AF, but he’s also stuck, and afraid to tell anyone that he’s been Dealing with a demon. So he goes once a week to tea, and gives absolutely monosyllabic answers full of ice...

Crowley fills some of the silence by starting t just bitch about work...and offers booze every time...once, after a hard battle, Aziraphale accepts...he offers bitchy comments about the demons Crowley complains about...don’t do this, Aziraphale tells himself firmly; it’s not YOUR demon, and anyway that was still probably a lie, and even if it wasn’t (it definitely wasn’t) you can’t find him; he’s probably dead...and this one’s MUCH trickier... There’s an assassination attempt on Crowley in which Aziraphale throws his sword across the room to him and it catches fire just as it does for Aziraphale, just as it doesn’t do for anyone else...

And that’s kinda where I stopped writing, bc I kept just...not wanting to write scenes with actual SPN characters, even though I really did need to involve Castiel, if I wanted him and Aziraphale to have a, “wait, you’re working with Crowley?” “Wait, YOU’RE working with Crowley?!”

I don’t really know how the rest of all that was supposed to go, with Purgatory and the Leviathans and everything. Cas WAS definitely having Aziraphale do research, while he alphabetized the Library, into Purgatory, and that’s a whole additional level of “wow I thought you were legit but Apparently I’m Disappointed Again.” Aziraphale is angry at both Crowley and Cas, but *checks outline* when Cas absorbs all the souls and goes nuts, Crowley runs, worried, to tell Aziraphale. Aziraphale tries to confront/calm Cas, and gets the dubious honor of being the first person “spared” by the new god.

Somewhere in here, logically, Aziraphale must tell SPN!Crowley about GO!Crowley, and Crowley’s like, “weird. I mean, I guess I’ve had dreams now and then of flying or being a snake or burning-but-in-a-good-way, but doesn’t everyone?” (I didn’t write this down anywhere but, like...it must happen.)

Somehow (Library of Heaven? Someone finally found the lost paperwork in Hell?) Aziraphale and Crowley find out that GO!Crowley’s (OG Crowley’s!) lost Grace is in, where else, Hyde Park, turned into, what else, an apple tree. If he is proper Crowley, it should woosh back into him when he touches the tree...

Aziraphale watched it breathless anticipation (not that he usually breathed anyway) as Crowley rested his hand on the bark of the tree.

Nothing happened.

“Well, that was a bit of a disappointment,” said Crowley. He reached up and carelessly grabbed an apple, brought it down and bit into it.

Everything exploded in the bright light of Grace.

In the planning document, I’ve written that Crowley goes back to Hell to try to wrangle it and Aziraphale ditto Heaven, which I guess...is reasonable. Good Omens ends with them both happily fucking off to stay on Earth and that’s the happy ending, but here, early SPN s7 with Cas having just fucked off into a lake and exploded with Leviathans, both Heaven and Hell could really use a sensible guiding hand, and unlike every other time (ie, all the time) that’s true, there’s a genuine opportunity for someone to step in and have influence. So...

Verdict: 11/10 this fic still SLAPS; thank you for coming on this exciting journey of nostalgia with me.

#supernatural #spn #my fic #good omens #p.s. SHOUTOUT to the PAGES document format that these are all in bc i wrote them on my high school desktop computer #goddamn that was a While ago

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annabethsgodcomplex · 4 years

Text

Hunters of Artemis Adventures: Two Hunters, An Empousa and a McDonald’s Happy Meal

(So I decided to go ahead with the Hunters of Artemis stories thing I was going to do. I present to you my first one. Hope you guys like it)

‘McDonald’s’ Bella said, while pulling her hair back into a braid.

‘Isy, that’s an incredibly random way to start a conversation.’ her friend Maria replied. ‘Would you mind elaborating?’

‘I was thinking that we should go to McDonald’s.’

‘Why?’

‘Normal, non-death related purposes?’

Maria sighed. ‘Like those deer bones we were going to leave behind and you tried to hide from me?’

‘No idea what you’re talking about’, the daughter of Hades grinned cheekily. ‘But the McDonald’s may be for death related purposes. Just a little bit…’

‘Do continue.’

‘You know how we visited Camp Half-Blood the other day and I was talking to my brother Nico?’

‘Half-brother.’

‘Same thing. Anyway, he was telling me how to summon the dead with Happy Meals.’

‘Let me guess, you want to try it. And you want me to help.’

‘Correct. If you help you can choose who I summon.’

‘How could I say no to such a tempting offer?’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll just grab my weapons and some mortal money and we can head off.’

‘Sounds good.’

Bella darted off to her tent and picked up her bow, her hunting knife and an axe she found in one of the trees and decided to keep. ‘I’m back!’ she called out to her friend.

‘What’s with the armoury?’ Maria giggled. ‘You planning a fight?’

‘Nah. Just wanna be prepared.’

‘Fair enough.’ Maria fiddled with the chopsticks she wore in her hair. They had been a present from her older brother in Italy before she’d joined the hunt in the renaissance period. They were all she had left of her brother other than memories. Bella slung her bow over her back and stashed her hunting knife in her belt. She struggled to find a place for the axe. Maria giggled watching her friend try to stuff it in various places before turning it into a silver brooch with a symbol of Hades on it.

‘Nice trick, how did you do that?’

‘Like my sister Hazel, I have control over precious metals. I prefer my death related powers but the metals thing always helps in a pinch. Let’s Naruto run to McDonald’s!’

‘Naruto… run?’

‘Right sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not from this century. It’s an anime thing. Watch me.’

‘Ok.’ Maria said, confusion etched on her features. Bella ran, leaning forward with her arms straight out behind her torso. ‘Now you try Mari!’ Hesitantly, Maria mimicked her friend’s actions as the ran through the woods. They ran to the edge of the woods and stopped. ‘So was that supposed to achieve something?’ Maria asked.

‘Other than fun? Not really. It’s just more fun than normal running.’

‘It’s certainly… interesting. I guess.’

‘You loved it.’

‘I didn’t hate it.’

‘Good enough.’ A cheeky grin took over her features, a glint of danger in her eye. As much as her friend liked to feign a cheeky sort of cheerfulness, Maria knew there was a certain darkness within. Bella had once confessed that she felt a constant pull to do something terrible. She scared even herself. She had been bullied relentlessly by a pack of boys in the mortal world and she joined the Hunt to get away from them and what she’d done. She’d found a new family in the Hunters of Artemis but Maria worried her friend’s darkness might come back if she could no longer control it. Maria pushed the thought out of her mind. She trusted her friend could control herself. Maria grinned back.

They headed into the shop. It wasn’t too busy, they had beat the lunch time rush but the few people in there didn’t seem like much to worry about. An elderly couple ate at a table in the far corner, some teen troublemakers who must have been ditching school hung around together casting glances in their directions before Bella pulled out her hunting knife and glared at them. ‘Bella!’ she hissed. ‘Put that thing away. We don’t need the police getting involved. We’re already sneaking away from camp. Imagine what would happen if we had to be escorted back in handcuffs!’

‘Ok, ok. But did you see the way they looked at us? Men. Ugh.’

‘True’ Maria giggled. ‘But they’ll have got the picture now thanks to you and your knives.’

‘You say the word ‘knives’ like it’s a bad thing.’

‘Well consider bringing knives out in public is considered a threat, it probably is a bad thing.’

‘Touché’

Maria rolled her eyes and went up to the counter to order. ‘Stay here and don’t cause trouble’ she told her friend.

‘No promises’. As Maria went to order, Bella noticed a young girl, around the age of 5 or 6, staring at them intently. She had a Monster High-Style fanged lipstick accessory in her hair. The girl’s gaze was piercing and sent shivers up her spine. There was something off about her and she didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out what it was. When their food was ready, Bella said to Maria, ‘There is a creepy girl staring at me and I don’t like it.’

‘You’ll live.’

‘Look at her! She’s creeping me out. I think she might be a monster.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

‘Then let’s get out of here before we get confirmation of that. Lady Artemis will be worried if she finds out that we’re missing and it’ll be worse if we come back dead. You know how she is.’

‘Yeah. I don’t want to get a lecture.’

They left the store and the girl followed. They quickly realized they weren’t going to get out of there without a fight. ‘Maria. Get your weapons ready. We’ll most likely need to fight our way out of here.’ Maria nodded. ‘Need a weapon Mari?’ her friend asked. ‘I brought 3.’

‘No. I’m good milady.’ She pulled the chopsticks out of her hair and pretended to rearrange her dark curls into a neater updo.

‘Excuse me. I’ve lost my mummy and I need help.’ A child’s voice called out. They turned around and saw the little girl. Instead of looking lost or worried, she was smirking and a sadistic light flared in her brown eyes. The smirk turned into a fanged grin. Her voice changed from child-like to demonic. Maria held her chopsticks in and ‘x’ position and they morphed into long swords. Bella on the other hand was having a crisis. ‘Mari which weapon should I use. It’s so hard to pick!’

‘Use your bow, it will give you a better range.’

‘Good idea.’ Bella unslung her bow and loaded it with an arrow. ‘Bring it on Empousa! Fight me like a woman! Or are you scared enough to fight like a man?’

‘Good one.’

‘Thanks milady’ she replied with a mock bow.

Unbeknownst to the girls and the Empousa, Artemis had appeared at a safe distance. She was prohibited from intervening unless necessary by the ancient laws.

‘Well, well, well.’ The Empousa snarled. ‘Let’s see how your so-called immortality holds up against me. I heard you can still die in battle. I’ve always wanted to hear the screams of a dying huntress being ripped to shreds by my talons.’

‘Oh bring it on! I haven’t had a good workout in centuries!’ Maria called out. ‘This is your last chance to turn back.’

‘You talk a big game huntresses. You amuse me.’

‘We’re used to big game. It’s what we do’

‘Your bark seems worse than your bite, Empousa.’ Bella chimed in. ‘Oh wait. That’s for dogs! You’re like what? One quarter donkey?’

‘And 50% chicken it seems.’ Maria smirked, preparing to strike.

‘Okay Maria. On three. You take one side, I’ll take the other.’

Maria nodded. ‘One…two…three!’

‘I normally go for men’, the Empousa growled, growing impatient with the smack talk. ‘But I must say ladies, you’ve earned your deaths as much as them’

A dangerous glint in her eye, Bella snarled. ‘We’re nothing like men!’

‘You just won a free trip to Tartarus Resort!’ Maria taunted. She advanced with her swords, slashing savagely at the Empousa. ‘Nice one Maria!’ Bella called encouragingly, firing arrows at the weakest points on the monster and avoiding its bronze leg. ‘How’s it looking? You got her other side covered Mari? I’m almost out of arrows and she’s still breathing.’ Maria slashes at the Empousa’s donkey leg, crippling it. ‘I’m ok!’ Maria called back, dodging the monster’s attacks and slashing her in several places. She chops the monster’s hand off and calls to her friend ‘Isy. End her! Now!’

Bella stashed away her bow and brought out her hunting knife. She lunged at the monster’s heart, landing a fatal blow that causes the monster to disintegrate into dust. Maria’s swords turn back into her signature chopsticks as she places them in her hair. ‘Good job kiddo.’ She smiles. Panting, Bella turns around. ‘You too milady. You were quite impressive out there. We should get back to camp before anyone notices we’re missing and starts to worry.’

‘We’ve only been gone for a little over an hour.’ Maria pointed out.

‘That may be so, but I’m incredibly noisy and it won’t take long for them to figure out why the Camp is awfully quiet.’ She retorted, flashing her friend a cheeky grin.’

‘Very true.’ Maria laughed. They turn to head back to camp after picking up their bag of food and spot Artemis. ‘Oh. Hello milady.’ She said with a curtsey.

‘Hi milady,’ Bella said awkwardly, attempting to look innocent. ‘How’s the… weather?’

Maria laughed at her friend’s attempt at innocence.

‘Where have you two been?’ Artemis fretted. ‘I was worried sick when I couldn’t find you!’

Maria attempted to explain the situation. ‘My apologies milady. We were just…’

‘Just what?’ Artemis countered. ‘No note. Bows gone! You could have died at the hands of that Empousa! Or worse men could have kidnapped you!’ They all shuddered at the word men.

‘In our defence milady. That wouldn’t have been likely for us but you’re right I suppose.’ Maria admitted.

‘Regardless of if it could have happened or not, I had no idea where the two of you were!’ They started off back to camp, Artemis chastising them.

‘So,’ Bella piped up. ‘Do we get a punishment or is this a first offence sorta thing?’

Maria facepalmed at her friend’s bluntness. Artemis cracked a smile. ‘No my dears. No punishment except for making me worried out of my mind.’

‘Milady.’ Bella said softly. ‘You worry too much. We’re very capable and you have trained us well.’

‘I know my dears. I just worry for you. You and the other Hunters are the daughters I will never be able to have.’

‘I understand milady.’ Maria replied. ‘But we know how to take care of ourselves. You saw that.’

‘I guess you’re right but I don’t have to like it.’ Artemis allowed. ‘Now I’ve changed my mind about not giving you a punishment. You are so cleaning up after the campfire tonight. But if you’re lucky, Thalia might pitch in to help the both of you.’ They all shared a laugh as they made their way back to camp, the sun starting to set behind them.

#fanfic #percyjackson #riordanverse #hunters of artemis #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #artemis

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pathetic-has-been-rockstar · 3 years

Text

The bonfire surprise

Pairing: Crowley x reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square/s filled: Chestnuts; Sitting by the fire

Warnings: none

Summary: still set to enjoy every bit of winter and holiday traditions, you decide to bring Jack to pick up chestnuts. Crowley joins you on the most innocuous hunt of the year, bringing Juliet along to spice things up. Roasting chestnuts on Hellfire never looked so good.

Words: 3091

Beta: @raspberrymama (I’ll never say this enough: check out her works!)

this piece can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!

“So... are you coming or not?”

Crowley tilts his head a bit, then nods, looking at you. “You know... yes. Since we've been consistently saving this world, it would be nice to take a walk in it.”

You were surprised when he decided to stick around for Christmas, or at least until the brothers don't actively start to try and kill him. He declared he enjoys the mayhem he can create frustrating Christmas' plans, but you suspect that he's probably just bored by his temporary lack of employment. You give him a small nod.

“Precisely what I was thinking.”

“Great. Now... aren't you forgetting something?”

You run a quick mind inventory, but nothing seems to be missing. “... like what?”

“Like the kid?” Crowley suggests, falsely helpful.

“... oh, no. Jack's in the car from like ten minutes. He can't wait to go.”

Crowley sighs dramatically. “Oh, to be young and eager again. Is it far?”

“About twenty minutes from here... why don't you come with us? You can try and crush Jack's optimism while we go.”

“I can do it on site. I've got someone to pick up, if it's all the same to you.”

“Oh... sure. Of course.” You are slightly curious and, even if you would never admit it, slightly disappointed. You were hoping for some time with Crowley, but he seems to have framed the occasion like a good chance to do... well, anything else.

“Fantastic. I'll see you there.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, Jack?”, you answer after a second, emerging from your thoughts.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You are just very quiet.”

“I'm just... a bit tired, you know.” Of course you were quiet. You're dying to see who was so important that had to be picked up and brought to what feels like a family thing.

“Sure. So... how's it gonna be?”

Surprised, you throw a side glance at Jack. The kid is smart. “As it's always been, I guess. Why?”

“I've never picked up chestnuts.”

Of course. Of course it was about the chestnuts. You stammer a moment, trying to collect yourself. “Oh, it's fun, actually. You just have to watch out for the shells, actually. They're spikey, y'know. You put on your gloves, then we pick them up from the ground,and check if there are holes in them. If they're whole we can put them in the baskets.”

“What if there's a hole?”

“Well, that means there's a worm inside. It's not a problem if you accidentally eat it, since it's basically lived inside the thing its whole life and it tastes like that, but... let's just try and avoid it, ok?”

“Sure. No point in killing it just because it's in the wrong place at the right moment.”

You smile, surprised by the tenderness of his heart. The whole argument about his nature before he was born it feels incredibly stupid, now. The kid doesn't even want to kill a worm.

“Precisely. Besides, it might mean that the thing is rotting, and we don't want to deal with the consequences of eating spoilt food. Why don't you put on some music?”

Jack literally beams at the idea. “Can I connect my phone?”

“Sure thing, kid. We have about half an hour to go, connect the Bluetooth and jam away.”

The rest of the ride consists mainly in Jack humming Christmas songs and weird covers of them, while you keep your eyes on the road and occasionally sing along with him.

Once you get there, you immediately spot Crowley. Seeing that he's alone, you tilt your head.

“Weren't you supposed to pick up someone?”

“I did.”

He whistles, and a second later two hellhounds appear next to him, wagging their tails. He smiles at you, clearly satisfied by your surprised expression.

“I'm confident you remember Juliet and Banquo.”

“I do. How... how can I see them?”

“Because I let you.”

“... oh. Thanks, I guess.”

Crowley hints at them with a swift nod. “Go ahead, touch them. I know you'd like to.”

Trying to play it cool, you kneel down and pat the head of Juliet. A second later, Banquo is rubbing his head against your arm, almost throwing you off balance. Crowley immediately notices.

“Banquo. Settle down, boy.”

The hound whimpers and draws back, immediately obeying Crowley, who gives you a satisfied look.

“I trained them myself.”

“I figured that much.” you fire back. Like anyone else could train those hounds to act like that.

You're distracted by Jack calling you. You turn and you see the bundle of scarf, hat and oversized sport coat wandering among the trees and picking up the burrs, only to let them fall again as soon as they sting him. Crowley raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Looks like the most powerful being in existence needs help with picking up some fruit from the ground.”

“... he's three years old.”

“They grow so fast, don't they?”

You turn your back to Crowley and walk to Jack. Juliet and Banquo run around, sniffing the leaves and acting mostly like normal dogs. You notice that, and turn to Crowley, who's been casually waddling around, following you and Jack.

“Why are they like these?”

“What do you mean?”

“They act like normal dogs.”

“They like topside.”

“Don't they have souls to collect, today?”

“They always do.” Crowley replies with a casual scroll of his shoulders.

“Then why are they here?”

“There are other hounds, you know. These two were just the most affectionate to me. In short, useless to dear mother, and very useful for my personal security.”

Of course, you don't know why they're there. You're not a hunter, after all, not in the truest meaning of the word. You've been dragged in there when you ran into Bobby, years earlier, trying to nick a book from your shop. You gave him the book in exchange for some explanations, and it turned out your years of eccentric reading made you pretty useful.

Bobby then started to call you for lore-related things, and it was only a matter of time before the hunters started to use your shop as a sort of base. You started to store magical items, too, and even faced a few monsters on your own. Not exactly your cup of tea, but fun. Crowley knows about this all, obviously. Everyone knows about it. His dogs are there because you are there. The idea of a human dear both to the king of Hell and the future God might inspire some unpleasant thoughts in rogue demons and monsters, so he doesn't want to take any unnecessary risk.

You only see the hounds sprinting away, running after a very lucky squirrel. The little rodent manages to climb up the bark of the chestnut tree just in time, escaping the fangs of the hellish beasts for a split hair. Crowley giggles happily next to you, apparently delighted.

“The dislike for squirrels must run in the family.”

“Yeah... Jack, honey, wait, no.”

Jack has started to climb on the tree, trying to reach the lowest branches, that are still a good seven feet above the ground. He really is a three years old sometimes, but you keep forgetting that. When he falls back on you, you are painfully reminded that he is a three years old in a fully adult body.

Before Jack can do it, Crowley helps you up, smirking.

“Everything fine, love?”

“Yeah, peachy.”

He chuckles and takes a dried leaf off your hair, then gives you an amused smile.

“Looks like you're enjoying yourselves, at least.”

Jack enthusiastically answers for you, then dashes away to inspect a new patch of dried leaves and fallen burrs. When climbing up the trees is finally off the table, you three keep walking in the woods and picking up chestnuts here and there until the baskets are full. You look at your clock, starting to feel the cold seeping through your clothes.

“We still have a couple of hours of good light left. Let's go back to the car, we'll make a fire there.”

“... a fire? What for?”

“Well, we... you know what? It's a surprise. Come on, let's go back.”

Jack smiles in excitement, then slows down, looking at you and Crowley. You walk closer than you did earlier, and you don't even seem to notice how the back of your hands touch while you walk. He's seen Dean and Castiel subconsciously trying to get closer just like that. He might be young, but he's learnt quite a lot about love and longing, and he's quite sure that he has a fine example of both lying right in front of him. He also has an idea about how to make that happen, even if he will have to wait until you return to the bunker.

When the three of you make it back to the clearing where you parked the car, you start looking around for some logs and branches to set the fire. You have some water and a couple of old newspapers in the car, so safety and the ignition are accounted for. You're still scouring the clearing through the growing darkness when Crowley clears his throat. You turn to him, expecting him to mock you for not having figured it before.

“... what?”

“I assume you're looking for something to start the fire.”

“Well, duh.”

He scoffs, not taking seriously your remark, and raises his hand, “Perhaps I could be of assistance. You know... hellfire and all that.”

“Oh, I... I didn't think of it.”

“I figured that much”, he echoes the words you spat at him earlier in a much gentler tone. You almost feel bad for treating him harshly, but you just can't help it. There's something about him and the way he treats you that makes you feel... uneasy, for some reason.

Crowley knows you well, by now, but he still hasn't found a way to unravel you completely. He was content when you sought him out in your sleep. You slipped through the sheets and held him, just like you did a few years ago, and you seemed pretty happy about it. You wanted to be close to him... and yet you seem very bothered by his presence, at times. Of course, this only makes him all the more curious to find out the key to decipher your weirdness. He doesn't like pending business, and you certainly are acting like one.

With a snap of his fingers, a bright fire starts burning a few yards away from the car, complete with a few logs to sit around it, and you look at it, fascinated like a child. Juliet and Banquo immediately recognize the nature of the flames, and go to quietly lie down next to them.

You start laughing and walk to the car, taking the castiron skillet and a couple of knives.

“What, no knife for me?”

You jump, surprised. He's definitely closer than where you left him, and you didn't hear him approach.

“Stop moving so quietly! I'll tie a bell around your neck.”

“Oooh, my own collar? Kinky. I might like that.”

You thank the darkness and the dancing lights cast by the open flames for hiding the redness creeping up your cheeks. You grab a third knife, flip it and offer the handle to Crowley.

“You know how to do it, right?”

“Love, I am a demon, not a moron.”

“Eh. Sometimes you can be both.”

He rolls his eyes, only mildly annoyed. “Care to make an example or do I have to take your insults at face value?”

You would like to answer, but your throat closes. The thought of that day in the Apocalypse world is etched in your mind, and you don't like to think about it. Luckily, you catch Jack getting close to the hounds with the clear intention of petting them, so you're spared from answering. You dash to him, worried.

“Jack, don't!”

Jack immediately takes a step back and looks at you, confused. “But they look so cute!”

“Yeah, but those are not fluffy animals. Those are killing machines, and...”

“And they're trained to behave around people who mean no harm to me. Go ahead, boy. They like scratches on their heads.” Crowley encourages Jack.

You survey carefully the scene, ready to spring into action, but Crowley was telling the truth. A minute later, Jack is sitting on the ground, scratching Juliet's head with a hand, and patting Banquo with the other, looking happier than ever.

“You think Dean will let us keep on in the bunker?”

You think about it for a second. There's not a strong enough word in any human language to express the way Dean would refuse the idea of a hellhound loose in the bunker. Hearing Crowley chuckle next to you, you're sure that he's thinking the exact same thing.

“I... I don't think so, Jack.” Jack nods, trusting your judgement, and looks at you.

“Right. So... what do I do with the knife?”

You sit down on the log next to his one and teach him how to lightly carve the smooth shell of the fruit with a X, so that it doesn't swell and bash while it cooks. When you prepare enough for the three of you, you pour them in the pan and set it on the fire, shaking it from time to time to ensure an even cooking.

Jack notices that your movements are steady, and studies you for a moment. “So... is it a Christmas tradition?”

“It’s more of a winter thing, not just Christmas,” you answer, “I used to go picking chestnuts with my grandfather, from November through December. Then we would cook them on this big open fire in the backyard of his country house. Not a fancy one, though. He was a farmer, so it was one of those old houses full of tools and handmade stuff. I really liked that place.”

“I bet it was amazing.”

You think about it for a moment. “You know what? It really was. And they kept loads of animals, too. He and my grandma would do everything at home, from scratch.”

You start telling Jack things you've never told anyone since you moved and started your new life. Meanwhile, you keep your eyes on the chestnuts, taking them out of fire when they're done.

You pick some pages from the old newspapers and roll three cones, then pour the hot roasted fruit in them. You offer one to Jack, and one to Crowley, who looks surprised.

“... for me?”

“Yes. I know you don't eat, but...”

He takes the cone from your hands, smiling.

“I still like the taste. Thanks, love. Very thoughtful of you.”

“Shut up”, you mutter, but you're smiling.

Jack encourages you to tell more stories about your family, and you hear the crunching noises coming from him slowing down progressively. When you look at him again, on the other side of the flames, you see him dozing off, still nestled between Juliet and Banquo.

You smile and throw your paper cone filled with discarded skins in the fire, watching it crackle, then reach out, trying to warm your hands. The air is cold, and it's totally dark around you, despite being only four p.m. You think about what you just told Jack, and a sting of nostalgia catches you by surprise.

You quickly blink a couple of times, hoping to chase those unexpected tears away, but you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright, kitten?”

You almost forgot about Crowley. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything while you were telling your stories to Jack, but you don’t suspect he listened to every word you said. “I... yes. Just... I haven't thought about those things for a very long time. I... I'm just being stupid.”

“Oh, love. Don't. Actually, you made me remember a few things about my winters as a human.”

“... really?” You think you couldn't be more surprised, but you're wrong. Your amazement hits its peak when Crowley starts telling you about old Scottish traditions, and his experiences with them.

After a few minutes of chatting, you shiver, and inch closer to him. He doesn't move away, instead he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I suspect you like me just as a heather, love” he purrs right beside your ear.

“Who says I like you?”

You both laugh and stay quiet, enjoying the cold air, the warmth of the fire and the smell of smoke and roasted chestnuts filling the air for a while. You close your eyes for a moment, laying your head back on his shoulder. His cologne and the hint of sulphur hidden behind it always made you feel safe, and now that things are so different from what they were, you aren't even plagued by the question anymore. The ever-present question of what was going to come next, what was going to happen... how you’d lose him.

You sigh and open your eyes, looking at Jack, then move away from Crowley.

“You know... we should go back. It's dark, and I'm sure they're wondering where we are.”

“... I'll bring back the puppies and see you there, if it's fine with you.”

“It... it is. More than fine, actually.”

He brushes your hand, and you feel his warmth through your glove, then look at him while he speaks.

“Thanks for sharing those memories, love. I know they were for the kid, but... it was nice to hear them.”

“Actually… I'm glad you were here.”

For a moment, both of you stay still. You feel your heart beating faster when you look at him. The way the fire underlines his features, the sheer intensity of his gaze force you to shiver, despite being comfortable and warm. Crowley looks at you and can’t hold back a smile. It might be the moment he was waiting for.

Instead, suddenly panicking, you stand up quickly, feeling your usual shield going up again. You can't be too vulnerable around him, after all. And Jack… you must bring him back. You didn’t come all that way just to get all lovey-dovey with the former king of Hell. “Well, I'll see you back at the bunker.”

“Right. See you there.” Crowley mutters through his teeth and notices the sudden shift in your behaviour. He wonders if his efforts still make sense. Then, he watches you waking up Jack and talking softly to him, petting the hounds and making sure everything is fine, and he knows he just has to be a bit more patient.

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

Thank you for reading!

I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!

Please, do not repost or copy my works or part/s of it, not even if you give credits.

#spn #spnchristmasbingo #spnfic #chestnuts #sitting by the fire #christmas fluff #crowley x reader #crowley x fem reader #jack is a baby #hellhounds #ooc #canon divergent #writers on tumblr

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hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis · 4 years

Text

Virago 03. Nobody’s Safe

Summary: Y/N was sent to the ground after spending five years in the Skybox for stealing medical supplies and murder. How will she deal with her new environment and learn to survive on earth? Will she crack under the pressure of becoming a leader of the 100 or will she embrace it.

Post Date: 05.08.20

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Based off: 01x03 “Earth Kills”

Masterlist

Some kid comes running up to us, “Trina and Pascal are missing,” Bellamy just sighs, gets up, and walks off. You follow along. He finds his way to Atom and a couple of other kids and tells them to go looking for them.

As Bellamy and Murphy have some brotherly bonding time throwing knives and stuff you see what there is to do around camp. You find mostly everyone setting up tents and building a wall to keep the grounders out.

You go over to Octavia who is holding a tarp, “Hey, need help?” You ask her.

“Hey. Yeh just setting my tent up. If you could just help me drape it over that’d be great.” She responds as you grab the other side of the trap and walk to the other side of the frame. You two soon find out that the tarp is too small to cover the entire frame.

“Ugh, this is the third one I’ve tried. I’m gonna go see if I can find a bigger one,” She says as she walks towards the dropship. You wait for her to come out, but a few minutes have passed so you go see what she’s up to.

You find Octavia talking to Atom before she storms out and you follow, “What happened?” You ask Octavia.

“Bellamy did,” She says sternly. We make our way to the tent where Bellamy and Murphy were. We walk into them talking about something, probably about hunting.

“What did you do to Atom?” Octavia questions her brother. He gestures for Murphy and you to leave but you just wait by the entrance. Octavia turns around and nods her head to tell you everything fine. You can hear Octavia’s muffled voice questioning her brother until she runs out of the tent after hearing Jaspers pained moans.

You follow her into the Dropship and up to the next floor where you find Wells, Clarke, Finn, and Monty looking at Jasper, “Stop it! You’re killing him!” Octavia rushes over to Jasper.

“She’s trying to save his life.” Finn rebuttals.

“She can’t,” Bellamy says walking in, you look over at him and shake your head as Wells says something.

“We didn’t drag him through miles of woods just to let him die” You sigh.

“Kids a goner. If you can’t see that, you’re deluded. He’s making people crazy.” Bellamy replies.

“Sorry if Jasper’s an inconvenience to you, but this isn’t the Ark. Down here, every life matters,” Clarke sternly states.

“Take a look at him. He’s a lost cause.”

“Just because you believe that, doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth trying to save him. We need every person to survive down here.” You state.

“Octavia, I’ve spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there’s hope, there’s hope.” Clarke says turning to Octavia whose looking at Jasper with a concerned look.

“This isn’t about hope, its about guts. You don’t have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He’s been like this for three days. If he’s not better by tomorrow, I’ll kill him myself. Octavia, Y/N, let’s go.” Bellamy says about to leave.

“I’m staying here,” Octavia says not taking her eyes off Jasper. Bellamy looks at you expectantly before heading down the ladder.

“Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. No offense” Monty says looking over to Octavia, who just shrugs it off.

“I’ll talk to him, just give me some time,” You say before heading down the ladder.

You walk around camp looking for him, you find him in the tent he was in earlier with Murphy again, “So, when do we leave,” You ask walking into the tent.

“We? Who said anything about you coming.” Murphy questions.

“Well I for one,” You take the knife out of Murphy’s hand, “Am good with a knife, so what’s so different about a spear?” You say throwing the knife right at the base of Murphy’s foot.

“You missed,” Murphy says blankly, but you just give a smug look back.

“I said she can come, she is good with a knife,” Bellamy butts in.

Once everyone is gathered for the hunting party you all head out of the camp. You guys all walk for a little while, “You know you don’t need to be so hard on Octavia,” You say turning to Bellamy whose walking right beside you.

“She’s my little sister. I have to do what I need to protect her,”

“From what I can see, she can protect herself. Just ease up, okay? Or at least try.”

We then hear a boar oinking in the distance, Bellamy signals for the other guys to surround it. We make our way closer to the boar, “Shh-shh-shh-shh. She’s mine,” Bellamy says inching closer to the boar. All of a sudden a twig snaps behind us and Bellamy launches his ax into a tree behind us. The boar is scared off and the rest of the party runs after it. Bellamy goes to find where he threw his ax to, as you follow.

You find a young girl standing next to the tree Bellamy’s ax landed in, “Who the hell are you?” He questions her.

“Charlotte,” She says standing as stiff as the tree beside her.

“I almost killed you,” Bellamy says grabbing his ax.

“Why aren’t you at camp?” You question her walking up next to Bellamy.

“Well, what with that guy who was dying, I just- I couldn’t listen anymore.” She replies.

“There’s grounders out here. It’s too dangerous for a little girl,” Atom says from behind you and Bellamy.

“I’m not little,”

“Ok, then. But you can’t hunt without a weapon,” Bellamy smiles and hands her a knife. “Ever killed something before?” Bellamy asks and Charlotte shakes her head.

“Who knows? Maybe you’re good at it.” Bellamy says, looking over at me and walks away with Atom.

“Come on,” You say and gesture her to follow.

You and the hunting party continue to walk through the forest but with no animal in sight. You then hear a loud bellowing horn and look to your right to see some yellow looking fog creeping towards you. You reach your hand out and when the fog reaches your hand, it starts to burn and you pull away screaming in pain.

“Run!” You yell before pushing Charlotte away from the fog.

Everyone from the hunting group starts to run, “Come on! There are caves this way.” Bellamy says in front of you and Charlotte.

You and Charlotte run along with Bellamy, she reaches for his hand and he pulls her along. He looks back at you to make sure you’re still there. Bellamy and Charlotte round a corner, he pushes her into the cave and then reaches for your hand and pulls you in.

You stumble to the ground not expecting to be pulled with such force. You can hear Atom yelling Bellamy’s name but the fog becomes too overwhelming, so he makes his way into the cave.

“You okay?” Bellamy says looking between you and Charlotte. Charlotte just nods and sits down on a small ledge.

“Y/N?” Bellamy sits next to you.

“Just another small scratch,” You say looking at your hand, which is red and has some blistering burns on it.

“We should have Clarke look at that when we get back,” Bellamy takes your hand into his. You pull back and hiss as he rubs his fingers over the burns. You get up and check on Charlotte.

“Hey, it looks like we won’t be getting out of here soon. Why don’t you get some rest.” You say and take your jacket off so she can use it as a blanket. She nods her head and you lay your jacket over her lap as she gets as comfortable as she can be.

You lean up against the wall beside her and try to fall asleep. You feel something laid on top of you and open your eyes to find Bellamy hovering over you and smiles. You continue to try to fall asleep until you hear Charlotte let out a scream “No!”

“Charlotte, wake up,” Bellamy says and gets up.

“I’m sorry,” She says softly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” You say taking her hand.

“Does it happen often?” Bellamy asks. Charlotte only sighs in response. “What are you scared of? You know what? It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you do about it.” He says.

“But...I’m asleep.”

“Fears are fears. Slay your demons when you’re awake, they won’t be there to get you when you sleep.”

“Yeah, but… How?”

“You can’t afford to be weak. Down here, weakness is death, fear is death. Let me see that knife I gave you.” He says as Charlotte hands him the knife.

Bellamy takes the knife in hand, “Now when you feel afraid, you hold tight to that knife and you say, ‘Screw you, I’m not afraid’” And hands Charlotte the knife back. She repeats Bellamy’s words a few times.

“Slay your demons, kids. Then you’ll be able to sleep.” Bellamy says and looks over to you and taking notice of your smile. He mouths to you “what” and you mouth back “nothing” and go back to sleep.

The next morning you find yourself laying close to Bellamy who clearly had been awake for a while. You shift and see Bellamy looking down at you, “Yes?” You ask scooting away from him.

“Sorry, Just thought I shouldn’t wake you.” He says and gets up.

“Ok…..Well, we should get going. I’ll wake Charlotte up.” You say and hand him his jacket back.

You walk over to Charlotte, “Hey, it’s time to go.” You say and slightly shake her.

She gets up and hands you your jacket. You walk out of the cave and find that there is no more fog, “Anybody out here? Jones?” Bellamy yells scanning the forest. We hear someone to our right and make our way over to them.

“Lost you in the stew. Where’d you go?” Bellamy asks the three guys as we meet up.

“Made it to a cave down there, The hell was that?” Jones says.

“From the looks of my hand, maybe some kind of toxic fog?” You say and show them your hand.

“Where’s Atom?” Bellamy asks them. Jones just shakes his head no.

You and the rest of the guys split up to go looking for Atom. You told Charlotte to stay close to you but she disappears. You go looking for her until you hear a scream in the distance. You and Bellamy make your way over and find Charlotte staring at a red and boiled skinned Atom laying on the ground. “Son of a bitch. Atom.” Bellamy says and rushes to Atom.

You stay with Charlotte as Bellamy examines Atom. The rest of the group finds their way over to you guys and Charlotte gets closer to Atom and you follow. You can hear Atom struggling to breathe, Charlotte slips Bellamy her knife.

“Don’t be afraid,” Charlotte says quietly. Bellamy tells the others to make their way to camp, leaving him, you, and Atom. “You should as well Y/N.” You just shake your head and stand your ground. You kneel down to Atom next to Bellamy and listen as he begs Bellamy to kill him. You couldn’t help but notice the struggle Bellamy was having.

You turn your head and see Clarke standing behind you guys. She makes her way to the other side of Atom, “I heard screams.”

“Charlotte found him. I sent her back to camp.” Bellamy says. Clarke continues to examine Atom and shakes her head signifying that he won’t make it. Bellamy understands and nods.

“Okay. I’m gonna help you, all right?” Clarke says looking at Atom. She starts to hum a song. You notice Clarke’s hand make its way to the knife in Bellamy’s hand. You put your hand in front of hers, she looks up at you. Instead of letting her take the knife, you take it yourself. Clarke continues to hum and you slowly put the knife into the side of Atom’s neck and he dies. You put your hand on top of Bellamy’s and look at him.

You wrap up Atom’s body with Clarke as Bellamy takes a moment, “Hey, I noticed the burns on your hand. I can take care of that back at camp,” Clarke says to you.

“Oh, thanks. That’d be great.”

You, Finn, Wells, Clarke, and Bellamy all make your way back to camp. By the time you’re back, its night. You, Clarke and Finn, make your way to the Dropship, “It’s about time. They’re about to kill Jasper. Did you get the medicine?” Octavia says making her way out of the Dropship.

“Yeah, I...I got it. Come on. Let’s go talk.” Clarke says and tries to turn her away from Atom’s body. Octavia doesn’t follow and makes her way over to Bellamy and Atom’s body.

“Octavia, just stay there. Please, stay back.” Bellamy says holding her back. She continues to struggle against Bellamy’s grip before Bellamy just lets her through.

“There’s nothing I could do,” Bellamy tells Octavia.

“Don’t” She responds clearly upset.

“O...O..please,” Bellamy tries to get her attention but she just walks past him.

Bellamy and Murphy break into a fight when Murphy calls Octavia Bellamy’s “psycho sister”, you try to break it up but it didn’t work. After Bellamy walks away, you go to find him.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask Bellamy, who you find sitting on the outskirts of the camp.

“Yeh,” He quietly responds while playing with a stick.

“You just need to give O some time. I’ll try to talk to her so she’ll know what really happened.”

“No, it’s ok. She’ll calm down, I don’t want you to be getting in the middle of our sibling fight.”

You two sit in silence for a while, until Bellamy takes your hand in his, “Thank you. For today,”

“For what?”

“For taking care of Charlotte. Handling Atom. Even trying to handle Murphy,” He says, his voice getting quieter as he continued to list the things he thanks you for.

“It’s really no big deal. I mean you’re really the one who took care of Charlotte and Murphy needs to be taught a lesson somehow. I’m still figuring that one out though,” You chuckle lightly.

You guys sit in silence for a little longer, “Well, I’m gonna see if I can get some medicine for my burn before Clarke goes to sleep. Don’t stay out here too long alright? See you in the morning.” You smile and squeeze his hand before walking towards the camp.

You make your way into the Dropship and up the ladder. You get to the top as soon as Jasper wakes up, “Can I, uh, get a hit of that?” He says gesturing to the alcohol that Finn has in his hand. You, Finn, Monty, and Octavia rush over to Jasper to check on him.

“Let’s start with the soft stuff,” Finn says grabbing some water and giving it to Jasper. “Welcome back, buddy.”

“Was that a dream or did I get speared?” Jasper questions with his raspy voice.

“You’ll have a very impressive scar to prove it,” Clarke says as she makes her way over to Jasper from the ladder.

“My savior.”

“Thank you for not dying. I don’t think I could’ve taken that today,” Clarke says relieved.

“I’ll try not to die tomorrow, too. If that’s cool. Oh, hello.” Jasper responds and takes notice of Octavia off to his right.

You pull Clarke off to the side, “Hey, do you think I could possibly get something to help this?” You ask her and pull up your hand to reveal the burns.

She examines your hand for a little, “Yeh, lets clean it up first. I have some seaweed leftover and we can try and put some of that on top.” She says, grabs the seaweed, and makes her way down the ladder.

You follow her outside and lead her into your tent. She cleans your wound and makes a poultice out of the seaweed. She presses it on, “Keep this on for 20 minutes. I can make a fresh one in the morning if you need it.” She explains.

“Thank you,” You smile as she packs up. Octavia walks into your tent, “Hey, I was wondering if I could talk to Y/N,” she says.

“I was just about to leave, shes all yours,” Clarke walks out of your tent.

“What’s up O?” You ask and scoot over to make room for her to sit.

“I...I just can’t get out of my head of what happened to Atom. I want to believe it wasn’t my brother’s fault, but I can’t help but think it was.” She explains.

“I can assure you it wasn’t. That acid fog or whatever burns your skin on contact and it hurts a lot. “ You show her your hand. “If Bellamy could, he would’ve gone and saved Atom, I know it. The fog just got too thick to go into without dying yourself. I even would’ve tried if I could. We need every person down here to survive sometimes we just can’t afford to be the hero,” You tell her.

Octavia sighs, “Thank you. I think. I’m still mad at Bell but this makes me feel a little bit better.”

“Bellamy told me not to get between you two. I promised I won’t but if you ever need me to talk to him or you need to talk to me, I’m always available.”

“No, he’s right. We shouldn’t bring you in but thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gets up and leaves your tent.

A/N : Hey guys! I’m finally done with school and will be able to push out parts from now on. Thank you for waiting so patiently. I hope you guys enjoy this part. I actually enjoyed writing the last section between Y/N and the Blake siblings. I’m trying to make Octavia and Y/N really close (almost like sisters). I believe I’ll be posting parts every Friday (haven’t fully decided yet) so be on the lookout. Stay safe guys!

(lmk if you want to be added) Taglist: @im-a-writer-right

#The 100 #the 100 series #the 100 imagine #the 100 x reader #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #octavia blake #wells jaha #clarke griffin #john murphy #monty green #jasper jordan #Finn Collins #100virago

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iggy-dearest · 4 years

Text

Happy valentines day Vergil

Vergil peeks out from the shelter of his pages for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

Valentines Day

You two used to celebrate it before your ‘unplanned separation’. However, since he then decided to stay by your side and be the dutiful husband that you deserve. And he’s determined to treat you liek the queen you are. He doesn’t know what to do, every plan he comes up with just seems to have an equally horrible chance of blowing up in his face!

Your poor husband

Should he take you out?

No you don’t like crowded areas that much. What if you have a panic attack while your with him. He doesn’t want you to feel scared!

Should he make a homemade gift?

No, he’s never been good with crafts, that’s more of your forte.

What if he takes you to one of those spa’s you and the other women go to your occasionally?

No, you don’t like certain people touching you and it also seemed like something you did with just the girls, and Dante said. Whatever the hell that means.

Maybe he should make you some dinner?

Although, he really can’t cook, like at all. He remembers when you first started traveling together in your teenage years, he nearly burned down that cheap hotel room. ‘How do you burn water’ was your question. He never got near the stove again, traumatized and deeply embarrassed by the fact that he’d burned water. Although he supposes tea counts? Doesn’t it?

Tea!

He should get you tea. You appreciate it as much as he does. As far as he knows your taste in tea hasn’t changed much. He also noticed that you seem to be running out of your favorite blend and if he remembers correctly it isn’t very easy to come by.

Perhaps he could somehow get Dante to leave you alone for the night? Although he wonders how he should approach the matter with him.

The door opening as abruptly as it did was what snapped him out of his thoughts and what made you jump in your seat. “I’m back!!!” Dante hollered like he was on the worlds biggest sugar high. “Why are you yelling” you asked, although you don’t know if you want to know the answer. You spotted the familiar shaped box in his hands, “did someone get a treat” you teased with a glint in your eye that made your husband weak in the knees. “You bet your ass I did” Vergil saw the smile on your face when you saw Dante sporting his own. A feeling gurgled in his stomach, why did you have to be so close with Dante?

Taking a box into your hand you saw a name written in beautiful penmanship,,, one Dante never could have forged even on his best day. “Who’s Sandy” you asked propping yourself up on the desk. “New girl at Sammy’s” Dante said now sitting in your old seat behind the desk. “Oh~” you know who he’s talking about she looked young apparently has a really big crush on Dante.

“Either of you get any yet?” Dante questioned

“No, not that I know of” you sighed out,stretching your back out, how long have you been sitting in that chair. “I think I’m gonna head home for the day. Okay?” You asked.

You honestly have no idea what your gonna do, you just don’t wanna stay with him anymore. You don’t know if he’s going to try anything with you. Quite frankly if he does it means he’s trying to wine you back, which is confusing for its own reasons and if he doesn’t it means that he doesn’t want you anymore which hurts more then it sounds like. You just don’t know. Maybe you should just go home, listen to some opera to clear your head make some tea to calm you down and maybe watch a movie. A silent film seems fitting and not as pathetic as your love life.

“Ok” Dante agreed, what the hell has his idiot brother been doing this whole time. Honestly, does he not see a perfect opportunity when it happens to be standing a few feet away from him and is walking out the door.

“See you tomorrow” and with that you leave to drown yourself in tea and perhaps some wine.

“What the hell have you been doing for the past 3 hours, Vergil?!?” Dante yells.

Vergil turns his head to the window once he sees you cross the street he gets up himself. Time to get his affairs in order, Dante straightens up as he sees his brother get up from his seat.

Is he going to stab him?

On Valentine’s Day

Nice way of showing your brotherly love, asshole.

The younger twin watches as his brother wordlessly puts his book down on the coffee table and walks out of the establishment. Heading in the opposite direction that you were in.

Where the hell was he going?

~~~

It’s here he knows it’s on this block. You mentioned a new tea shop that had just opened up that carried your favorite blend. He knows because the look on your face was not one he could ever forget. Vergil walked down the street although it seemed more like cantering. His eyes strained a bit from the light reflecting on the shops naked windows. Than back to the small scrap of paper he had jostled down the name of the store.

Infused

Was the name. Simple easy to remember, he likes it.

Walking inside he is greeted to a mix of smells. The strongest being from the fruity blends that you happen to dislike. He doesn’t much like them either.

“Welcome” said a store clerk. The clerk approached him “Hi I’m Joshua, if you need any help, just ask me” he said with a well practiced smile.

When did humans get so..nice?

“I’m looking for a specific blend” Vergil started. “Peppermint lavender” he finished dammit if only he’d taken the nearly empty container. That would definitely help his situation. “We have a few choices, if you’d like I can bring them out and you can see which one it is that you’re looking for” wow, when did humans become so helpful.

Vergil nodded he didn’t usually prolong his time with others, but for you he’d do just about anything. Because you’re worth it, you always have been. He was just a fool and didn’t always see it.

He heads to the counter where the salesman has all the teas laid out for him. He squints his eyes as he trues to remember what your container looked like. It was...white..with purple outlining.

The salesman watches as the man who’s face looked like it was chisled out if marble and looked like he should be at a fantasy fair tried to make up his mind. He hopes he doesn’t choose the one thats mainly white, he’s had his eye on that one for a while and it the last one!

“This one” Vegil decides pointing to the one that’s the most similar to yours. He really hopes that it’s right, it’d be really embarrassing if it wasn’t.

Shit!

He choose the one he had his mind on. Maybe he could just say that it’s been reserved?

No, the salesman saw him before he walked into the store. He actually walked past it a few times too, but he had a look on his face that screamed ‘determination’. The salesman sighs internally, he probably needs it more then he does.

“Excellent choice” he says his rehearsed line and moves to the cashier.

~~~

Vergil hopes he’s not to late. He runs through the street. It’s getting late, he’d stopped to pick up some takeout that you liked courtesy of Dante for the information. He wants to get there before 8 o’clock otherwise he’d come off as wanting sex.

Wouldn’t he?!?!

And then he remembers, he’s got a sword that allows home to teleport. Really Vergil crosses his mind. With two precise swings he is at your apartment building.

However, this might be the hardest part. Going to the door of the woman your head-over-heels for and asking for her to let you into her safe space.

~~~

You sigh that’s enough of the silent films. Maybe you can leech off of your sister-in-law’s disney account. You decide Disney makes everything better. It even makes you feel better then you crazy love life.

You look at your glass, shit! That was your last spot of tea. Oh well, that just means you’ll have to break out the wine. What goes better together then Disney and wine.

You’re about to get up and stretch when in the place of hearing a tired joint popping, you hear a knock. Who the fuck knocks at, you peer at the time on the cable, 7:50pm. It had better not be your annoying neighbor, your not in the mood for his dumbassery. You’d much rather just sock him in the chin or slam the door on his nose, either work for you.

The knocking comes again. “I’m coming” you’ve decided it’s not your neighbor, they wouldn’t have waited so long to place their next knock.

So who the hell is it?

“Vergil” is the only word to make it out of your mouth as you open your door. What is he doing here. He looks a bit out of breath, is he alright?

“Hello”..hello...hello. Who the fuck even says hello anymore. Thats it Vergil’s used up all of his confidence. Why is it that he can face demons with no problem yet he can’t even face his love without freezing up. “Um,” what the hell are you supposed to say. “Is everything alright” you let out, sort of leaning and hiding behind your door. That door is your best defense right now if anything happens or if you just wanna slam it in his face because he talked out of his ass.

“Yes-no-uhm” christ can someone help him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day” he mumbles

“What” you ask, he must be nervous if he’s mumbling around you. Though, you’re glad you still have that effect on him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day” he finally manages, his voice filled with a bit more confidence than before.

You watch as he hands you a cylindrical container. It looks familiar to you, “this is..” you’re surprised he noticed “where did you find it” your so surprised, that’s good right? “The tea shop you mentioned” was his only answer “Vergil, I mentioned that weeks ago” your surprised he still remembered, even you didn’t remember it all the time despite being a frequent costumer there. Your glad that he did though-oh is that Chinese food.

“Thank you” sincerity dripped through your voice, and for that it’s worth it for him. You’re worth it, you always will be. “Would you..like to have dinner” now your surprised “I’d love too” you moved aside and let him in. You hope he likes Disney.

~~~

Vergil could not be happier then he is in this moment. You asleep and curled into his side, empty plastic containers strewn put on the coffee table complete with disposable chopsticks. With a Disney movie ‘Alaadin’ you said the name was, illuminating the otherwise dark apartment. He sees you shiver slightly, he takes the throw blanket that is draped over the back of the couch and lays if on you, his neck will hurt in the morning but he really doesn’t care. He’s not moving, no man in the world would. He slowly reached for the remote and turned the TV off.

I love you, he thinks as he starts to drift off.

I love you, you think as you snuggle closer into the source of your warmth, and you have a feeling that it won’t go away anytime soon.

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