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iwahajii · 2 years

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• scars fade (Chapter 8)

Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.

Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.

This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.

warning: contains cheating, explicit language, mature themes

taglist: @jcrml @on-crows-wings

then • now • next

After the whole panic attack fiasco, Tooru did his best in touching only the lighter topics, switching between each of your days, exchanging stories and happenings, catching up, gossiping and other nonsensical stuff that matters when you’re friends with an Oikawa Tooru. His effort was greatly appreciated. Not only because it was inconvenient to pass out for half a day, but also because you weren’t ready to face the demons lurking behind your own shadow.

Weeks has passed, before he snapped.

“Should I be worried about this Ryuujin character?”

It was an ambush, a bomb thrown by Tooru from miles away.

You froze, backtracking on your day, on your interactions and conversations with Tooru, wondering where and how he knew of Ryuujin. Not like you were hiding something. You just knew Tooru well enough to know how badly this could get depending on your answer.

There was none. You never really brought the name up in conversation, let alone found any significance for it to come up since there was really nothing to that name.

“How do you know him?” you queried, sounding more confused than you intended to.

Wagging a finger in front of the camera, Tooru pouted. “Don’t answer a question with another question. You know better than to pull that on me.”

“I never told you about him, so why do you know him?”

Tooru flicked his hand. “Let’s just say a little birdie told me.”

You rolled your eyes, because it didn’t take too many brain cells to figure out Sanae was the little birdie he claimed.

“I don’t want to arrange divorce papers!” was Oikawa’s scandalous outcry, all indignant and hurt.

“Tooru,” you called, sagging in your seat. “That’s not what it means. Ryuujin is just an acquaintance, a relative of a kid from daycare. Besides, you know I legally can’t,” you added the last bit in a whisper.

That was meant to calm him, even just a little bit, but of course, Tooru never failed to surprise you. “Even if you legally can, you can’t!”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling for some patience and guidance, preferably from some divine entity because you physically can’t smack Tooru in the back of his head and you mentally can’t bear to answer his groundbreaking inquiries. Honesty always suited Tooru, so you did just that.

“Trust me, Tooru, I haven’t thought that far ahead,” you replied, meaning every word of it.

Tooru exhaled long and loud, a sign that he’s releasing the fight from his system. His eyes still looked glazed over, the slight tilt of his lips telling you he was still upset.

You pursed your lips, contemplating your next words. “If it makes you feel better, he’s not my type.”

It took a few good seconds before Tooru’s lips twitched, slowly lifting into a mischievous smile he couldn’t hold back. He knew well the type of guys that make you fall and swoon. He was the resident third-wheel in your relationship after all. Listened for years about your useless crushes since middle school. Listened to your seemingly endless pining for Hajime for ‘eight long years’ before the both of you had the guts to do something about the ‘humungous sexual tension suffocating everyone in the room’ as Tooru eloquently put it, with Hanamaki and Matsukawa yelling their assent in the background.

“Isn’t that lovely to hear?” Oikawa exclaimed awfully sweet, unnecessarily highlighting the word ‘lovely’, making you roll your eyes so hard you saw white for a split second. Typical Oikawa Tooru.

“How’s Makki and Mattsun?” you asked, their names hanging in the back of your mind since you remembered them.

“Makki’s still pulling the 'Iwaizumi Hajime is dead' act, ever since you left,” Tooru grumbled. “Mattsun’s still Mattsun.”

You snorted, feeling your heart swell at Makki’s actions. “That’s so like him,” you commented.

“Tell me about it. I’m literally dying every time we see each other. I don’t even know whether to laugh or to hit him or Iwa-chan in the head. Can you imagine? Good god, it’s so horrible and painful but hella funny. And don’t get me started on Mattsun!”

Oikawa was ranting, bubbling on about how Makki slipped one time they were eating dinner and accidentally asked Iwa to pass him the ketchup.

“We all froze at the table, literally, because it’s been months and he was doing perfectly fine, but then he goes, “Hey Iwa, pass the ketchup,” Oikawa recounted, doing a very close impersonation of Makki’s gritty voice (which you really love listening to). “Iwa was frozen like a statue, then Mattsun goes ‘Iwa, the ketchup. Makki needs the ketchup” before he snorted so loud I couldn’t hold it anymore. Makki was so red in the face, and when Iwa handed him the tub, he couldn’t even look anyone in the eye. Even Iwa cracked a little smile before Makki threw fries in his face, mumbling “You’re all dead to me,” then proceeded to devour his cheeseburger so obnoxiously it was so annoying!”

You were laughing by the end of his story, snorting at him for calling another person obnoxious. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are like older brothers to you, both laidback and cool but in their own different ways. Hanamaki’s playful, always down for anything and everything. Matsukawa is surprisingly more mature than anyone else in the group, prefers to listen and watch the fun, but actively participates when it comes to Tooru.

“I miss them too,” you mumbled.

He grunted in reply. “Give them a call. Makki’s bugging me ever since he found out. Mattsun too, even though he’s not openly asking,” he shivered before adding, “probably preparing some blackmail to use.”

“I might hold out on calling them just to see that,” you teased. You were open to the idea of calling the two since you missed them too, actually contemplating to do so ever since you started communicating with Tooru again. You ignored the little demon in your head that said Iwa’s name.

You knew they were feeling the aftershocks of your quick exit, aware that the relationship didn’t just stop between you and Iwa. They were very much invested and very much involved, so your actions definitely affected them. Maybe much more than they really let on. Besides, you were friends even before things progressed with Iwa.

“You’re so mean!” Oikawa whined. Then, with pleading eyes, he added, “Iwa too?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your throat stopped working, so you closed it again. He was about to say something else, when a voice that made your heart stutter floated through the speakers.

“Oikawa, dinner’s ready.”

Tooru grinned widely, eyes sparkling evilly. Before you could even react or get a word out, he spoke.

“Iwa-chan,” he called. “Yuki says hi.”

His words rang out in your head again, louder and firmer than when he said it.

“Iwa too?”

A grunt and then it was his voice again. “Stop being an ass, Trashykawa.”

“I’m not, Iwa-chan.”

To hell with it.

“Hey, Iwa.”

Within seconds, the video feed was a mess, the camera pointing somewhere dark.

“I’m totally sending this picture to Mattsun,” Oikawa mused, snickering as he stared at his phone’s screen.

Suddenly, the video feed was a mess again before a familiar ceiling came to view, the sound of grunts, thuds, and Tooru’s shrieks ringing out from the speakers. The image of Tooru getting tackled to the floor by Iwa conjured itself quickly and easily in your mind, the scenario playing out like those many times in the past.

“Iwa-chan, you brute!” was Tooru’s shrill cry.

It felt like the old times you spent together, teasing and joking around. Growing old but never growing up when you're with each other.

And there you were, dying with laughter somewhere in the background as Tooru and Iwa continued to wrestle it out.

Just like old times.

then • now • next

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyu angst #Iwaizumi Hajime #oikawa torū #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader

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demcnsinmymind · 1 year

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The big ole Friedkin's cult after 1948 lore post

Buckle up folks, my brain came up with more convoluted cliché stuff!

So, yay! As if my possession timeline/lore page wasn't long enough already, my brain decided to come up with even more stuff for Friedkin's cult! Don't mind the fact that Friedkin had a total screentime of maybe 5-10 minutes throughout both movies where we only saw him sacrifice babies and ram icepicks into people's brains without much explanation.

BUT WHO CARES! I'LL ADD EVEN MORE CLICHÉ'S TO THAT AND MAKE IT EVEN MORE COMPLICATED!

Anyway, to recap what I've come up with so far, based on and inspired by canon:

Friedkin ran a cult inside Collingwood in the 40s, one that was looking to turn a human being (experimented with and selected from the wide pool of helpless patients inside the hospital) into a suitable host for the ghost of Friedkin's son, who killed himself while trapped at the frontlines of world war II. All thanks to Friedkin's experiments with a wide range of occult scriptures, his cult ended up bringing their 'idols' into our realm instead of Friedkin's son, namely L/ovecraft's Nyarlalothep "the crawling chaos" and messenger of the outer god Azathoth, which tagged along, too. Accompanied by a whole truckload of other demons, ghosts and creepy things that slipped right through the tear Friedkin created within the building.

It all came to a climax when Lance was dragged through the hole all that mess tore into the building and into 1948, and he in return got possessed by Nyarly first, followed by Azathoth right after Lance helped kill Friedkin along with other patients and then burned the building to the ground. In a nutshell, 1948 was a paradoxical mess and the origin of everything and long story short, that paradox + Azathoth expelled Lance right out of that messy past and back to 2016. I'm terrible at summarizing that lore page but here we go. The detailed page makes more sense than this short paragraph, I swear. Anyway, I never really thought things further for said cult until now, but today is the day folks, and I'm having a ball.

The cult - 1948 until 2016

So get this: not all members of Friedkin's cult were dragged through the time mumbo-jumbo, killed and distorted the second Nyarly and Azzy were drawn inside Collingwood by their experiments and rituals. In fact, some of the nurses/orderlies who had participated in the rituals and experiments weren't even on duty when the whole loop started/ended/crashed. So even with Lance and the patients getting their sweet and bloody revenge on the cult after weeks/months/years of abuse and Collingwood going down in flames - Friedkin's cult slash the cult of Azathoth didn't entirely vanish or cease to exist after August 1948. Quite the opposite, it went on and on for many centuries.

Picture it like cults akin to the one in the awesome podcast Archive 81 or cool movies like "The Ritual" from 2017 or the freaky Midsommar stuff. Or hell, even your typical real life religions and cults. The teachings and beliefs were passed on amongst family and friends of the ones who survived. Hell, some of Friedkin's staff and cult members were in their early to mid 20s in 1948 and are around 95~ish in 2016 and still alive. And with all the chaos that happened in 1948, Friedkin's death a day after their most promising ritual was supposed to take place, the fire right after? They knew their ritual had been successful and that their cult was far from done and defeated.

They were well connected within Ryerson Valley. They got their hands on the investigation notes. They knew the description of the man who supposedly started the fire and burned down their workplace and ritual grounds. They knew Lance was Friedkin's pet project and with him missing post August 16th 1948 and not showing up again, remembering all his talk about the future, the 2000s, time being messed up and all, they knew through all this chaos and strangeness that he would turn up again. In the future. Just like he talked about. They just had to wait for their little possessed success story to turn up again.

So they bid their time and faded into obscurity. They kept their eyes on Collingwood. Watched it get built up again. Watched it get closed in the 60s due to it never recovering from Friedkin's reputation, the fire, the stories. They watched the renovation efforts fail in the 80s and 90s. They waited until March 2003 until Lance did turn up again, only the beginning of his loop for him. They knew he was the one. They watched and let him and his team step foot inside the building. They didn't stop him. They didn't warn him. They didn't let any of them see them. They knew he had to step inside and vanish one more time for them - to end up in their past. And once he was gone, once police turned up again to start their investigation into the disappearance of a film crew, they stood and they watched and they waited some more. Days. Weeks. 9 months, the amount of time Lance had spent with them in 1948. And then some more.

Original cult members started dying, a few every other year, but they never stopped believing, until they reached 2016. In August, there were rumors of the elders sensing the presence of Azathoth within their realm once more. He was back. The host. The one. This time at the end of his loop and down along the linear progression of their living time. Lance Preston, discovered by Kenny the caretaker, brought in to be examined and taken care of at Danvers state hospital.

Now in charge of the cult of Azathoth from Ryerson Valley, Maryland is a 33 year old woman named Andromeda Peterson, granddaughter of one of the original members of Friedkin's cult. Coming from a long line of psychiatric nurses, she happens to work not just at Danvers', but is also the head of the CPH (short for Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital) historical society - which happens to be more than interested in Lance. Stating his curious case and disappearance inside the hospital they've been trying to preserve as the main driving force behind their interest.

Short IRL interlude. Andromeda's FC is Han/nah E/mily Ande/rson in C/ollin M/inihan's movie "What Keeps You Alive". Fun fact - CM is one half of the Vicious bros aka the dudes who wrote GE! So I'm kinda staying within that universe haha. HEA was fantastic in that movie, holy moly. I am absolutely stealing some of her mannerisms from that movie for Andromeda. I mean check it (she's the one with long red hair)

youtube

The cult post 2016 in my main possessed!verse.

Anyway, back to the cult shenigans. Previously, I hadn't really mapped out yet who Lance killed because I loved that he killed someone in canon but hated the second movie and refuse most of it as canon for my depiction of him. But now I got it figured out!

So as stated in my previous lore and bio stuff, Lance was institutionalized at Danver's state hospital after he turned back up in his 'normal' timeline again, and it took him a bit to adjust until something kicked him into action and made him flee from the hospital and investigation into him - thus getting him back outside and ready for his main post-canon verse where he's possessed by Azzy.

But now I got a neat idea and it shall be my new headcanon.

Members of Friedkin's cult/the cult of Azathoth catch wind of him turning back up and being at Danvers and thus it turning back up again, so they're more than eager to get a hold of him so they can further their chaotic fuckery of unleashing Azathoth/chaos/the end times and what not. And since Andromeda as well as a few other members of said cult are working at Danvers, they naturally start turning up right on his doorstep to 'take care of him', 'interview' him about Collingwood, take his record for their 'historical society'.

Basically an expansion of this scene that was cut from the movie but I'M KEEPING IT SUE ME

All thanks to some of the questions being weird, having Azathoth inside his brain as well as the familiarity of Andromeda's methods of gaslighting and just generally being fake and shady as fuck for a nurse (just like Friedkin and the 1948s nurse squad), it doesn't take Lance long to figure out that the cult still exists even in his time and is still interested in keeping their whole stick up of trying to fully unleash Azathoth and wreck hell. Maybe to turn Danver's hospital into a next purgatory like Collingwood (because he also learns, from Azathoth, that the torturing and experimenting on patients is still going on even at Danvers, though more selectively, smarter, and covert), maybe to fuck their entire existence, whatever it is, Lance soon catches on to their fuckery.

And naturally, he freaks. He runs from them. And while trying to do so, he ends up killing someone, the cameraman, a med student and actual genuine member of the historical society, who doesn't actually know about the cult and is in it for the urban legend and history of the place, is fairly naive/somewhat dumb and has been talked into recording the 'sessions' for Andromeda (the guy is basically headcanon pendant to canon Trevor from the second film). So on his way out of Danvers and away from the cult, Lance finds himself forced to kill someone in the freakout to stop them from filming and gaslighting him, and next to breaking out of a psychiatric hospital, has to be on the run from the police and investigators because he's now also wanted for murder.

Andromeda survives his defensive freakout along with the rest of the cult that wasn't there when it happened (again) - so with Lance on the run now, she and thus they are on the hunt for him just like the police, to get their hands on his body as a vessel and Azathoth as their deity and bringer of doom.

Funnily enough though, Azathoth has no interest in their cult and them whatsoever, since they already gave it everything that it needs - Lance, a vessel to parade it around places. It doesn't care for worship or any structures and whatnot, and will be more than happy to kill members of the cult if they get too close. Because unlike it, they want Lance - his consciousness and soul basically- dead and entirely gone so their vessel reaches its full potential for everything they're crazy about , but Azathoth is having none of it because it wants to keep Lance just the way he is. Alive and miserable, and playing on its team sort of.

I'll be flashing their interests and goals out a bit more one of these days and I might integrate her as the head of said cult in modern times a bit more too but here we go, that's all I got for today.

#headcanons #lore #hc : paranormal #hc : cult #hc : azathoth #he made me do it : possessed #Youtube

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robinsnest2111 · 1 year

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🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them? cause i don't know a lot about your ocs

uhhhh for All of them? 😂 Well I'll see what I can cobble together lol

under a readmore because I have a lot of OCs and A Lot to say!

to start at the very beginning: my first group of proper OCs (Felix + Moritz + Emily) where mostly created as a coping mechanism for me to deal with bullying, trauma and extreme social isolation as a teen.

Felix is very obviously a self insert, embodying all the traits about teen me that I perceived as negative and unlovable.

Moritz is the pinnacle of Seemingly Intimidating Goth/Metal Guy with A Heart Of Gold and was designed to love Felix, flaws and all. Because I really needed that back then.

Emily is the small bubbly confident childhood friend with sweet supportive parents and a good home life, fully submerged in the world of goth (which was one of my main obsessions as a teen) and not afraid to kick someone's ass with her stompy platform boots to protect her bestie Felix!

The first thing I decided on was probably Felix' name. I did start to seriously question my gender back at 12/13 and Felix was one of the names that were somehow dear to me (probably because I had a brown plush mouse as a little kid which I named Felix lol). Similar story with Emily tbh. Had a doll as a kid which was named Emily and I just really liked the name.

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Next up: Scene-chan, Emo Girl and Harstyle Girl, not much to say about them tbh. obviously based on the popular music/fashion based subcultures of the day (mid to late 2000s, early 2010s). another bunch of my teenage years obsessions lol

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then: my emo boys Alex and Joël! it's kinda cringe and embarrassing to admit, but they're based on a classmate and I way back in 6th grade. They started out as random emo boys but a few years ago I decided to give them names and a basic backstory.

Once again Joël is kind of an alternate universe self insert (based on if I had taken up my emo classmate on the offer of giving me an emo haircut and taking me to an emo meet up, still regret not being brave and accepting to this day lmao), and basically another coping mechanism of Self insert is loved by other OC despite his perceived flaws that make him "unlovable" :')

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on to some of my most fleshed out OCs of the bunch: my absolutely beloved metal boys Lukas, Simon, and Raphael! I actually came up with them for one of my last pre-college assignments! I chose the topic character design and since I was starting to really dive into the wonderful world of metal, I promptly created my boys!!!

They all have some of my traits but are pretty solid characters in their own right. Their story has changed quite a bit, mostly because of storytelling classes in college and the teacher for that course demanding some realism in the form of depressing realistic shit (drug addiction, abuse, Struggling in general, etc.) and less of whatever low stakes, non-dramatic supernatural demon contract stuff I had going on beforehand lol I didn't like it at first but it somehow stuck, oops.

The first thing I decided on was probably Lukas' haircut! I did accidentally mirror it at some point tho (brain like Swiss cheese and the bad habit of keeping most of my oc info haphazardly lying around inside my head)

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And finally, my Metalocalypse ocs: Rapunzel and Martin! They're both klokateers working for Dethklok, nothing too special about them tbh. Rapunzel has more of a backstory than Martin at this point, I really need to do more with them tho!!!

The first thing I decided about Rapunzel (when he went from a random background Klokateer in my dethentines entries to a proper OC) was him being a laundry klokateer! I'm not well-versed in assassin/bodyguard work and all the Die For Dethklok backgrounds of most other klokateers and thought. Hey. Mordhaus is fucking huge and there are so many employees keeping the whole thing going. So there must be an entire laundry squad somewhere. And I know how to do laundry. So that's where I put Rapunzel hehe

Martin is still pretty much a blank slate. All I have for him so far is that he's from Germany and Drepressed/Suicidal As Fuck (literally the first thing i decided about him. like, what if i made an OC that's So Fucking Depressed), hence why he signed up to become a klokateer.

He wants to die anyway, might as well die protecting a band he likes. But surprise surprise, while working he runs into Rapunzel, the eternal ball of sunshine, ends up saving his life from intruders who were on a mission to kill Dethklok (a normal tuesday tbh), and with the help of him and all his coworkers he learns that life is somehow worth living after all. So basically his plan backfired and now he has so many things to fight and live for!

So. Martin lowkey is Rapunzel's "I Could Fix Him" project 😂👌 Oh! and Rapunzel calls him Tintin 🥺💕

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If you have made it this far I hereby award you a medal because this sure was a wall of text!

#anaalnathrakhs #ask robin #my ocs #felix (oc)#emily (oc)#moritz (oc)#alex (oc)#joël (oc)#lukas (oc)#simon (oc)#raphael (oc)#rapunzel (mtl oc)#martin (mtl oc)

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picklesanddough · 2 years

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My ramblings about LMK Finale Parts 3 & 4

I have so so so so so so MANY thoughts about the last 2 episodes of the finale of Lego Monkie Kid floating around in this big empty space I call a brain so for the sake of my sanity and mine alone I will be explaining what I liked about it and what I was slightly disappointed about. Not that anyone cares but HERE WE ARE! Obviously SPOILERS FOR LEGO MONKIE KID FINALE EPISODES IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THEM AND IF YOU HAVEN'T GET ON THAT!!!

I'm going to start with the stuff I was slightly disappointed about.

1: The fight between SWK and Macaque. I was really hyped for this when MK explained his plan and I wanted the amazing fight scene like we got in season 1. Like, I knew Macaque was going to get BODIED, but I still wanted to see it. But unfortunately, most of the fight was off screen and it only lasted a couple seconds. I know that they had to fit everything in a certain period of time but I was kinda sad about that. Like it could've gone on for a minute or two more.

2: The Samadhi Fire. Again I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE HOW THEY WERE GOING TO USE THIS TO STOP LBD AND IT WAS BARELY THERE. I know Mei used it some in the final fight, but for something so central to 95% of the plot in Season 3, I was kinda disappointed. I just needed more of it. Hopefully it gets used more in season 4.

That's pretty much it for the dissatisfaction, I enjoyed the episodes a lot for the most part. NOW ON TO THE GOOD STUFF-

1: THE MOMENTS BETWEEN TANG AND PIGSY WERE SO CUTE. WHEN TANG WAS RIDING ON PIGSY'S SHOULDERS IN THE PLAN SEQUENCE AND WHEN PIGSY TRIED TO FUCK UP NOT-MAYOR AND THEN CHEERED TANG ON WHEN HE DID THE SAME THING!! there are obviously more examples but these are the ones that really got me going.

2: Macaque. Just Macaque. He was so delightful to have around and I loved his comments and his voiCE AND HIM-. He delights me. But seriously, I’m glad he finally gets his redemption arc and they better bring up how he traumatized MK and what the hell happened between him and SWK in more detail because I need the goods.

3: Red son MY BELOVED WAS HERE AND IS HELPING AND HES PROUD AND HE HAS A SUPPORTS GROUP AND HE SMILED AND HE SMILES SO MUCH AND HIS DADDY SMILED AT HIM-

4: MK. My sweet sweet MK. Hes doing his absolute best no matter what demon says what to get him down AND BOY DOES IT GET HIM DOWN!!, but he always comes through and I love him. I also really liked how they hinted (not-so-hinted) that he still has a dependency on the staff and that’s just so sad. And also how he acts dumb to lighten the mood- HOW OFTEN DOES HE DO THAT BECAUSE HE ACTS DUMB A LOT IS HE OKAY?!?!??! SOMEONE GET THIS KID INTO THERAPY!!!

5: GREEN FLAMES!!! I KNOW I WAS UPSET ABOUT THE LACK OF FIRE BUT THE CALLBACK TO SEASON 1 WAS SO GOOD AND IS SO PERFECT< I LOVE IT WHEN MY KIDS ARE HAPPY!!

6: SWK FUCKING APOLOGIZED!!!!! HE APOLOGIZED FOR DRAGGING MK INTO HIS SHIT AND DHUJNDHUDJSMNHJNHFUDJNSHKFMNH HOW OFTEN DO WE SEE THAT HUH!!!?!? HES DOING HIS BEST AND THAT’S ALL WE CAN ASK HIM FOR. And I also really liked how it was kinda unclear if MK actually forgives him and he has a right not to and its so good.

I can’t think of anything else right now, I’ll have to re-watch the episodes for the 5th time, so until i do, HOORAY FOR LEGO MONKIE KID FOR A REALLY GOOD SEASON!!! I HOPE WE GET MORE SOON!!!

#for someone who hates writing long paragraphs i sure do like writing them #lmk mk #lmk macaque #lmk mei #lmk sun wukong #ABKJDSBDJD #THIS SEASON WAS AMAZING #I'm sorry its so long if someone chooses to read this

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chiyoso · 8 months

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Thank you so much for tagging me in that post about the growth of your writing journey.

I want to thank you as well. Your prompt. It really helped me in many ways. It got my brain working again but it also helped me cope with the Gojover scenes from last week. You're a really sweet and kind person. The way you interact with everyone is just so wholesome!! From your energy in your blogs I can see that you're awesome but you're also a perfectionist.

GAHHHH !!! I JUST CAME BACK FROM A WRITING HIATUS + HOTSPRINGS AND I SEE THIS?!1!1!!3?3 LET ME UNPACK

OKAY okay... okay uuh, uhhh first off, about the gojo prompt i posted, the desperate plea one, i was serious about it, i felt myself spiral heavily, i found myself completely and utterly deluded in my imaginations about satoru lmao, and i wasn't even a fan of him back then when jjk first released, i didn't even watch it immediately, i watched it only finally when i saw a clip of itadori as sukuna fighting satoru in the very first episode i think? and since i'm a sucker for good ass animation + realistic movements, i just decided "yyyeah fine fuck it"

even after finishing the two seasons, i didnt really obsess with it hardcore like how i did with magi, demon slayer and etc (i got hooked by those two animes so much i went to the manga, and im not even a manga reader) besides that me getting side tracked, my main point is that i didnt really obsess with satoru, the characters and the lore of it all too much — until recent, my introduction to the writing world.

you, @ainescribe and @teapartyspilled were my pillars, my bastions, my origins of support in my starting days as writer, you witnessed me get criticism from anons about my tagging and other stuff when i was new, even defended + informed me about it when it held no true benefits to you.

you are irrevocably and undeniably kind, along with my other mutuals, all of your passions had changed my perceptions of reality in the most beautiful way possible, but of course, time is against me and i can't really indulge myself to the fullest in yours and my mutual's creations, shit is honestly so frustrating to me.

these past few days? weeks? i've just been indulging myself in a more japanese inspired located area in my place to relax, preparing my physique and health for a cosplay in december, enrolled myself in martial arts + my mom hired me a vocal coach for opera training (i cant help but blush at the thought that neuvillette and lyney would be smitten by my vocals, might make a fic about it too)

OKAY ENOUGH ABOUT ME — THAT FIC OF YOURS ABOUT SATORU, it also got my shit together, i asked my mom to help me as well, because the parts in your story where mc was just playing around with food? isolating myself from others? sleeping most of the time? i was doing that, i still find myself in bed most of the time too, your story fucking made me bawl against my pillow, screamed at it, but when i winded down, in my delusions, i just imagined the comfort of your satoru in the fic.

ash, if i'm allowed to call you that, you're an amazing writer. i hope you know that you know that you're the type of writer that moves people to tears, if not all then let it be known that you did move a person to tears, and i would be most esteemed to receive that title, being that person.

#💌 mailed to hiraeth #💌|·❍✧⃝·° H's recipient: sleep-deprivedracoon #🌹|·❍✧⃝·° H. — My Bouquets

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watch-my-cosmic-death · 1 year

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That actually sounds more fun than any party would lol

I'm really happy I can make such a good impression:))

I mean I guess I can be a little cool sometimes but I promise you 95% of the time I'm so damn awkward lol

I mean c'mon you do have an amazing mind! You say so many things that wouldn't have even crossed my mind:) okay but I would sign that petition so damn fast lol

Ohmygod I was worried there for a sec lol I don't even know what I would do if you told me something like you believe the earth is flat. Thank the gods you don't though:)

No I like the long way around!! I enjoy seeing a little bit into how your brain works:) But what's upsetting to me is that until see send something fucking huge to store all that space junk, there's a good chance that it will all just burn up in our atmosphere:'(

I feel like if/when humanity moves to another planet to kill it like we are killing earth, we will have to bring either absolutely everything, justice system, police, all that stupid shit or we will bring nothing. And it's both really funny and horrifying imagining a couple hundred millionaires running around a whole planet doing whatever the fuck they feel like. At least they won't be here on earth anymore:)

I'll try to make this as short as possible but a lot happens over the three books. So do you know anything about like the Shadow Hunters movies? I think there's a show too. But it's in the same world as that. So there shadow Hunters that are humans with angel blood so they have special powers. They hunt and kill demons. Werewolves, warlock, vampires and the fae are all in this world too. It turns out that the main character is both shadow hunter and warlock, her mother was a shadow hunter and he father was a demon. So she has some cool powers because of her angel blood but is also immortal because she's part warlock. There's a cool love triangle and (kind of spoiler: she gets to be with both of them just about a hundred years apart.) It sounds kind of lame how I'm putting it but I promise its great!!

Fnwojfwjd Rihanna is literally so fine and her doing the halftime pregnant??? Literally such a goddess!! She's so amazing!!

Oh a tattoo you say? What are you getting?? That's so cool!!! I gave that song a listen and it's so cool! I really like it:)

I'm sorry. Talking with somebody who really isn't listening can be so frustrating:/

I hope you've had a great day today!! Is there still snow on the ground?:)

Hey :)

I meant to say I when I was younger at the start of that, but apparently my sleepy state forgot. It most definitely is better than the actual parties, lmao.

You make a great impression! If it helps, you don't come off as awkward at all. You're extremely thoughtful with your words and sweet. I think you're cool 100% of the time!! :)

That's gotta be the best compliment I've ever received, thank you:) But I can say the same thing about you! Your mind is wonderful and brilliant. You have a beautiful way of thinking, and I really enjoy reading about your opinions, and I love reading how passionate you are about them. :)

That's why I decided to take the long way around to make it 100% clear I don't believe in that, lmao. I'm delusional, but not that delusional. - My brain is a mess when I'm trying to make a point. You're so sweet. :) - I feel like unfortunately that's going to continue. It is really weird to me that as humans we think we can just do stuff and expect nothing to happen in return. When we've seen time and time again because of our actions, previously thought unharmful, become harmful. It's like running the same track and expecting to find a different outcome. It stresses me out thinking about certain things because we could clearly do something differently, but we just choose to do the same things. It makes no sense to go into something with such a careless attitude. Especially when it comes to space. If we know so little about it, shouldn't we treat it with more respect, care, and thoughtfulness?? I went on a small tangent, but the point still stands!!

I would love to watch a bunch of millionaires do what they want to a planet and then watch as it all blows up in their faces. It really amazes me how, just because they have money and get away with everything because of it, they think they are just protected from the natural fact they aren't invincible. They have no idea what they're doing, but still go about everything with pompous attitudes. - I feel like it would truly test what we value in society. Especially if one of the stupid rich dickheads go first to 'run things.' They could do absolutely anything and completely get away with it because nothing applies the same there. It's a vast topic now that I'm thinking about it clearly.

For future reference, anytime I ask your opinion on any topic, please know you can write as much as you like. Write me a book and I'd read it. You don't have to keep anything short. - I know absolutely nothing about the Shadow Hunter franchise, feel free to indulge me. I'd love to learn about it from you. It's cool they have angels blood AND powers! ( Unrelated, but I'd love to be a vampire! ) Oh My God! We love a good, enemies to lovers to having a child with unfathomable power! Love triangles are complicated- I can't comment as someone who's never been in love, but'd assume it'd be super stressful. The way you put it does not sound lame! It sounds awesome! Plus I already know you have amazing music taste, I believe that translates into other media too!!

Have you seen her baby?? It's so fucking cute oml I almost died when I saw the photo.

I did say tattooooo :) I got a deer skull tattoo on my right forearm. It's fucking awesome. I've always loved animal skulls. Or just weird, morbid things. I kinda lost myself over the years, but it serves as a reminder of myself to myself? I don't know, kinda weird when I actually write the meaning of it down. Which is why I just tell everyone it's because I think it's cool and move on, haha. - I'm glad you like it!!!!! It's a pretty long song, but it just- I don't know, everything to me.

I also listened to the songs you suggested. I really loved them! I did not expect the fucking gnarly breakdown towards the end of Granite! That was super awesome. I also really loved the lyrics in Alkaline. It was aggressively beautiful. :)

It's alright, I don't mind normally. I was just feeling a tad vulnerable that day. It's all good. :)

I had a pretty chill day, thank you. I had my volunteering intro today! It was a bit chaotic, but I go in next week for three trial days. Also, I found out the charity shop is run by a church, and I got super nervous. I have nothing against religion. I just wear a lot of dark outfits, have obvious hand tattoos and now a deer skull, and I'm also just so, so gay. I also lose all cool when I hear anyone talking shit about any minority groups. So we'll see have Tuesday will go, lmao. (Though I don't think the owner's like that, so hopefully it's chill.)

Yes! There is still snow on the ground :) It was pretty relaxing to walk home in the snow storm after my tattoo appointment. I loved seeing people rush to get into shops or run to their cars. Pulling their hoods up and shoving their hand in their pockets to keep just an ounce of warmth. The snowflakes sticking to their hair ends and jackets. It was blissfully calm, which is odd for my town but not unwelcomed.

I hope you had a lovely day! I hope you got some rest too and that it was peaceful. <3 :)

#I wrote so much #lmao #I'm sorry #r #asksss

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

My Maribat Betrothal AU: Take Two

Okay so people like that post that is more of a train wreck produced by my sleep-deprived brain. I expanded on it and added some changes. Fair warning: Most of my ML and DC knowledge came from Maribat fics, a few episodes and the DCU movies like son of Batman. I have Mari's pov and background stuff written and it needs some editing. Anyways, enjoy <3

It is not a continuation but: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

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

PART 1

Damian groaned.

He was not having a good day.

First, Father decided to pair him with Todd, TODD of all people, for patrol.

Second, while doing a stake-out for the warehouse near the docks which might be used as storage for criminal activity and enduring Red Hood's annoying taunts, they both were knocked out by tranquilizers and his mother's face was the last thing he had remembered seeing.

"Don't worry, little one. You are just fulfilling your duties as heir to the Demon's Head. Then, all will be perfect." She had said, just before he fully lost consciousness.

Third, he woke up to being chained up with a major headache. Taking a bearing of his surroundings, the room he was imprisoned in had two exits, an iron door and a window that had the view of his childhood home. He was dressed in wedding ensembles of the League of Shadows. Red Hood was chained up next to him as well but unlike him, still had his suit and helmet on. Glancing to the other side, he saw a raven-haired girl, chained up and dressed in the black and gold robes of a bride. She had also retained consciousness and was staring at him.

Bluebell eyes met his piercing green.

His betrothal was petite with Asian features. She had freckles dotting her button nose and rosy cheeks.

She is fragile and will break easily, he thought. Why did his mother want him to marry such a weakling?

"Savez-vous où nous sommes? (Do you know where we are?)" Her voice was sweet and trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide and seemed filled with innocence yet carrying great sadness. She was an Angel, an ordinary girl, not fit for this harsh and unforgiving world she was forcefully going to get married to.

She opened her mouth to ask another question and suddenly, she went limp, appearing to be unconscious. Damian furrowed his brows in confusion. Why did she-

A moment later, he heard footsteps approaching and the iron door opened to reveal his mother.

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

Jason woke up to the sight of the Bitch Talia and Demon Spawn, face to face, glaring at each other.

Talia broke the tense silence.

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Married? The Demon Spawn is getting married?!

Jason saw through his helmeted vision, a girl about Damian's age, chained up like them but not yet awake. He raised his hand and saw the shackles around his wrists. The chains were connected to the wall. He experimentally yanked the chains, drawing Talia’s attention.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Jason said vehemently.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Talia stood up and grabbed Ladybug’s(?) hair and yanked so that her eyes met the girl's. The girl, who unfortunately was going to be the Demon Spawn's bride, lets out a cry and starts to tear up. Jason felt anger at how she was being treated, seeing the girl as a little sister already.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Demon Spawn growled out. The girl starts babbling in French. From the little French Jason knows, she was begging for mercy.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.” Damian spat out.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection." Talia countered, letting go of the girl.

Miraculous? Guardian? What the hell?

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

The mother and son begin to bicker. Damian refusing to marry and Talia trying to change his mind.

“Yes, both have to be willing to be married but the curse placed on both of you will ensure that you will agree.”

The dark haired girl had stopped crying and started whispering in a strange language when the fight started, fiddling with the silver ring she wore. Jason saw a terrifying smile crossed the face of the girl across him that chilled him to the bones. Later, a black blur came out of her robes and went through the door. He wondered if he imagined that before he was a determined glint in her eyes.

He blinked.

Talia was choking on the chains that were previously chained to the wall and were now around her neck. Fortunately for them, Talia had closed the door after her entrance and the guards most likely to be stationed outside didn’t storm into the cell. The girl whispered something in Talia's ear, making the woman's eyes widen with what could be fear.

The experienced assassin struggled to get free and gain an upper hand on the girl but was unsuccessful, passing out from the lack of oxygen and strangely strong grip of the small girl.

What happened next was surprising. She breathed hard on her shackles which instantly disintegrated into flakes of rust.

Holy Shit! Demon Spawn's girl is magic. Jason knows his mouth was hanging open under his helmet at that realization. Damian seems to be in the same state.

Talia didn't have the keys to the locks. Being crafty like that. Bitch

"Call me Lady." she said in lightly accented English as she summoned black orbs at the tip of her hands. “Stay still.”

She then proceeds to place her hands on Jason’s shackles, turning them into nothing more than specks.

"I am Red Hood." said Jason, rubbing his wrists.

"The little shit here," as he kicked Damian's leg, " is-"

"Damian Al Ghul" she said the last name with venom. She moved on to Damian's bonds. "Son of that bitch over there, grandson of Ra's, demon heir, blah blah blah. Hold still, mon mignon. I am sure you don't want to lose a hand."

Damian stopped moving at that, due to the pet name or fear Jason couldn’t tell but by the red at the tips of his ear, it could be the former. And she used her powers to free him.

Lady somehow managed to use what remained of the chains to hog tie Talia up.

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

“How do we get out?” Damian asked, inspecting the blade that he flinched from his mother.

“Hey, kit.” A nasally voice called out. “I checked out the place we are in. Like you asked. The way to the Throne room is heavily guarded and they seem to think old Ra’s the target. The Pits are guarded too but they are nothing you can’t handle.”

“What is that?” Jason shrieked.

“Thanks, Plagg, you will get that camembert danish when we get back. This is a kwami, a god of sorts and his thing is destruction so I wouldn’t insult him if I were you. He likes to go by Plagg”, answered Lady, which doesn’t clear up Jason’s confusion.

“So, Pigtails, what’s the plan?” The floating, black cat-shaped god(?) asked.

“I was thinking of destroying the Pits to give Al Ghul a middle finger and call Maman to use the Horse to get home.”

“We need Tikki to get rid of it..”

“I will just tell Maman to bring the earrings.”

Damian snorted, “That sounds like a foolish plan. You are insane and not strong enough to take on the League alone, despite having a ‘god’ of destruction at your side. This Tikki or magic earrings will destroy the Pits, many have tried. And sorry to disappoint but no horse can make it up the mountainside of Nanda Parbat.”

“Have to agree with Demon Spawn here and I rarely do that. Your plan sounds insane, Pixie. You are just one girl. Let us help, we know the League better than you. We can come up with a better one.” Jason was worried for the girl, she was crazy if she thought her plan would work.

Lady smirked, “It is a perfectly sound plan. I know what I am talking about. Despite the weak girl act, I am no Damsel in distress. After this is all over, we will split our ways and hopefully, never see each other again.”

“We can’t separate. My mother said there is a curse that will ‘make us fall in love.’” Damian said, using air quotes. “You need to come with us so we can get someone to break it.”

“Fine. But I need to do something before I am coming with you. Plagg, Claws out.”

Bright green light flashed around her and she was now dressed in a black bodysuit with green linings. It was armoured at the chest, knees and elbows. (Add whatever details you want, I can’t do it. Jacket, designs, use your imagination) Her gloves were claws-like, reminding them of Selina and there was a belt carrying some vials, pouches and throwing stars. Her hair was now longer and braided and seemed to move on its own. Cat ears were attached to her head. Her eyes were changed so the sclera were the same shade of blue as her iries and the pupils were slitted like a cat. A black domino mask framed her face. Two ten-inch daggers appeared out of thin air in her hands.

The transformed Lady did the inhuman feat of kicking the door open. The assassins stationed outside were immediately knocked out by Lady.

“Well, are you coming or not?” She called out, before running down the corridor. Jason patted his shocked brother’s shoulder, “You doing okay there, demon spawn?”

“Tch, Let’s go, Todd.” Damian replied, trying to get rid of that funny feeling in his chest.

#damian x marinette #maridami #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #betrothal au: take 2

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lustbile · 3 years

Text

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

#nct smut #ten smut #chittaphon smut #nct imagine #nct series #nct fic #ten imagines #ten oneshot #nct oneshot #kpop smut #wayv smut #wayv imagine #wayv oneshot

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3laxx · 3 years

Text

Maternal Feelings

There she was.

Her tiny granddaughter.

She had a bit lighter skin than Luz and just about Amity’s hair color. And she was so damn tiny.

Eda found herself getting scared, suddenly. This was a really small kid. This was like, a stupidly small child. She would not hold that baby for any number of snails.

---

Eda meets her newborn grandddaughter for the first time.

I don't know man I'm just chucking out words rn like I'm running from something.

But I had this thought of Eda meeting a very small child and my stupid brain was like "We can do that instead of sleeping" xD

So yeah, have this incredibly fluffy oneshot about Eda coming to terms with her Momma feelings and adjusting to being a grandma.

I just really wanted Eda to get emotional over a baby

Don't even ask Idk

Have fun reading! <3

Ao3 / FF.net

---

Eda had never been the most maternal.

Not in her youth, not when she had found King, and not when she had sort of adopted and sheltered Luz until she had graduated and been able to stand on her own two feet.

Not when King had taken her name and not when Amity had asked her for Luz’s hand, which had in truth just been a mockery of her parents’ traditions and had given Eda nothing more than an excuse to drink some apple blood with her future daughter-in-law.

Of course, she had seen Luz as a daughter at some point, had called herself her mother, had cared for her.

She had made their meals, had helped Luz with the homework – even if that had disgusted her – she had taught Luz and King everything she knew, she had tucked King in, cared for Luz when she had gotten sick or sad. She had of course done everything in her power to make sure her kids were content and happy.

That didn’t mean she had felt as though she was a mother. She had liked pretending to be the sort of crazy aunt, in charge of all the bad decisions.

But she had never seen herself as maternal.

Well, she supposed that came from not really setting any rules. When she had been younger, she had always been under the impression that mothers had to set rules, educate their children, and raise them. She had never really raised King or Luz.

She had just sort of made them laugh, given them food, and then they hadn’t left anymore. Like the free-loaders they were. Kind of like pests, actually.

It had always made them laugh if she had called them that. It had made her laugh.

Because she loved them, of course. She didn’t know love alone could turn her, the irresponsible, free-spirited wild witch a mother.

She supposed she had been a mother for King and Luz. Without setting rules, without all the raising stuff. She supposed her kids had turned her the littlest bit maternal.

Was it normal for friends to stay up at night and change the cold applications on Luz’s forehead in the hopes of bringing her fever down? Was it called caring and loving when she went out of her way to get King’s favorite toy, to get Luz the food she could actually digest, to make sure King was free of fleas and bathed and tucked in at night?

Did it make her a mother if she risked her own life to ensure they could lead a happy life?

Eda never knew the line between loving, as friends, and maternal.

Raine had started calling her out on her maternal feelings once she got the littlest bit protective of Luz.

Well, it wasn’t her fault that everything made her jump after Belos had almost – had, in fact – killed Luz on the day of unity. It wasn’t her fault that she woke up at night in a cold sweat, rushing to check on her daughter in the room next to hers sleeping peacefully, only to return to a sleepy Raine dazedly grinning at her with a smug, shit-eating expression of “Told you so”.

Every time, they would roll over their mattress in her nest and wrap an arm around her waist and tell her she was such a sweet mother.

Well, she was. She was the Momma of the Owl House.

But maternal?

Eda supposed she was.

After all, even if friends would do the same as her, a mother would make sure everything stayed safe and protected in her house. Making sure there was food on the table that Luz could eat. Making sure King was feeling loved, despite having discovered his past.

Making sure Luz had all her school materials, spending money on icky, stupid books. Giving her an allowance. Keeping her and King safe.

Well, Eda had never really tried finding a definition for maternal. All the love she had gained for King and Luz had just been that to her – love. And it had been enough.

She had loved calling herself Momma and had loved treating Luz like her daughter and King like her son, and she had loved calling them her kids. She just supposed the word itself – maternal – didn’t exactly describe what she was. She, herself, as Eda the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, an agent of chaos and the most daring criminal history had ever seen.

She had just assumed a mother wouldn’t call herself these titles.

Seemed like her view of a mother had been wrong.

Any person could be a mother, a parent, a father, or anything remotely close to this. And she supposed, caring for Luz and King, taking them in, giving them food, kind of did make her a maternal person, while never losing her pride as a criminal and generally irresponsible person.

A mother.

Well, whatever a mother was, or whatever maternal feelings were, or whatever she defined herself at and whatever she did for Luz and King.

Here she found herself, fidgeting next to her spouse, her excited teenage son in tow who was already towering over her height, in front of the healer’s coven building.

Whatever a mother was, she would probably feel that way. Well, Camila – Luz’s other mother – next to her other side was buzzing in excitement just as much as she was. The two women exchanged a glance before Camila gave her a small smile and she felt Raine taking her hand.

King gave a groan when he finally placed his claws on Eda’s and Camila’s shoulders and pushed them up the three steps into the main entrance, rolling his eyes.

After Belos had been taken down – after he had actually very much killed Luz, Eda had just brought her back to life – Luz and her friends had taken on graduation while the Boiling Isles had experienced a change in the government. Covens were no longer used to steal or limit magic. Instead, they had been used as a way to form a working parliament, with an elected group of government heads. After the gang had graduated, Luz had worked towards getting a way back home while helping establish a stable government form from the makeshift temporary one they had managed to create after Belos’ defeat. Luz had actually helped them quite a bit by telling of experiences made in the human realm, where politics were apparently a lot more twisted than here on the Isles.

Eda and Lilith had been elected as part of the group forming the government, even if Eda had dropped out after one or two periods, while her sister had taken charge like it had been the most natural thing for her.

Discovering that politics hadn’t really been up to her alley – she was way more interested in rebellions than anything else – she had begun building a legal business since she didn’t have to fear being captured anymore. It had gone pretty well.

Raine had started working in the government as well as Amity, while Luz had started working to mastering all forms of glyphs she could find, admitting her studies to the academics, and shortly after, had been offered to become a teacher at Hexside by Bump to teach magicless witches and demons glyph magic.

After traveling the Isles and working on her studies, Luz had accepted and finally settled down with Amity. It really hadn’t been a surprise to Eda when Amity had come to her and Raine with a ring and asked them to marry Eda’s daughter.

After already asking Camila that is.

Eda faintly felt King pushing her into the cool building that smelled like disinfectant – a nifty cleaning drug from the human realm that Luz had introduced them to – before hearing herself asking the receptionist where the room of the Noceda-Blights was.

A kind of bored-looking demon sighed and looked the room number up in the list, before pointing them in the direction. Again, Eda’s feet felt like they had been planted into the tiles below her.

Only after Raine gave her a light push, she moved again.

So, the world now had some sort of order. Nobody was forced into covens anymore, and the coven seals had been removed, setting the magic free again.

Raine and she had married shortly after her daughter had accepted Amity’s proposal, and now, ten years after Luz had first set foot on the Boiling Isles chasing after her book, Eda found herself feeling more maternal than ever. Whatever that meant.

Her hands were fidgety, and not even Raine’s steadying grip could calm her. Camila tried not to look around too much, even after so many years of knowing the Boiling Isles and having visited her daughter regularly, she still wasn’t used to all of it.

Stopping in front of their room, Eda tried breathing through. King sighed again, but Raine shot him a glare and he shut up. At least her spouse understood that this was a big step for her. Looking to her side, Camila tried another smile and Eda nodded at her.

“If you want to, you and King can go ahead. I’ll-… I still need a minute.”

More than willing, Camila accepted. She knocked, and upon hearing Luz’s call, she stepped in. Eda shuffled to the side to let King through, so he could duck through the doorframe and maneuver his broad shoulders in without hitting anything. The door closed and Eda breathed through once more, feeling Raine’s grip tightening.

“How do you feel?”

Shooting them a grin, Eda turned, shrugging and trying to play it cool, “Old, honestly.”

Laughing, Raine pulled her aside to the row of chairs and made her sit down.

“No, I mean, how do you feel about Luz and Amity?”, they tried again and Eda sighed, staring at the blank wooden door with the small eighteen next to it.

“… Proud. I’m proud of them for making this commitment.”, looking back to Raine, she added, “And kind of scared. I haven’t really been the most-… Well, involved.”

Unimpressed, Raine lifted an eyebrow.

“… You’re kidding, right?”

Groaning, Eda shrugged again and leaned back, before closing her eyes, resting her head against the wall.

“I-… I never made the commitment they made. King has his father and Luz has her mother. I was more a friend to them than a mom. Sure, I liked seeing myself that way, and they liked seeing themselves as my kids, but-… It was fun having them. King had always been mostly independent and Luz was already a teenager when I met her. I’ve never-… Well, been around-…”

Raine softly placed their hand on Eda’s hands that she had folded in her lap and when she opened her eyes again, the gaze of her spouse was humored.

“Come on, Eda. How hard can it be to be a not-grandmother?”, at the joke, Eda groaned, “It’s not much different to being a not-mom to your kids.”

Grumbling, she got up again before straightening her back and nodding.

“You know what, you’re right. That kid is family now and whoever the hell cares what a mother or a grandmother is.”

A little confused, Raine got up after her and pumped a fist, albeit half-heartedly.

“That’s the spirit?”, they laughed and Eda huffed, before knocking and getting her own call to be let in.

The room was warm and humid. Eda let in Raine and quickly closed the door after them, not to let too much of the warmth escape, before turning back to her daughter.

Luz looked tired when she approached them.

Well, that wasn’t a surprise, given that she and Amity had arrived in the hospital two days ago before their little daughter had been born just this morning in the earliest hours. She had probably been awake all this time to be there for Amity.

Giving Eda a big hug, she nuzzled her face into the crook of her mother’s neck, before deeply breathing out. Eda could tell that Luz had just overcome a big step for herself.

“… I’m glad you’re here…”, she breathed and Eda wrapped her arms around the now-grown woman, tilting her own head into the embrace. The younger witch snuggled close while Raine squeezed past them to join Camila and King around the crib next to Amity’s bed.

Eda tried so hard not to cry.

This was a happy occasion and she would sure as hell not shed a tear about this. Just when she pressed a little kiss to Luz’s head, a tear rolled into her dark curls as well. Well, there went this promise.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”, she whispered and Luz held her tighter, smiling against her neck, “I’m so, so proud of you. If you ever need some help, I’ll do my damn best to provide.”

Sniffling, Luz nodded, before parting from her.

The exhaustion was evident on her face. She wiped her cheek before Eda placed a hand on her shoulder and caught her gaze. They exchanged a silent smile, then she looked up and around her daughter to her future daughter-in-law on the bed, obviously exhausted as well.

Amity gave a small wave, but it was obvious to see she was under the influence of some strong sedatives. That was the logical thing to do, Eda supposed, to keep her from acting protective over her child while all her family and friends wanted to meet the newest family member.

Witches only carried six months until giving birth, before incubating their pup for another three months. Which was why this room was so damn hot.

But upon giving birth, new mothers would also become a lot more protective of their pups than humans would. Luz had been new to all of this and Eda had had to educate her on the reproduction of witches, because Amity had been too busy laughing. Well, Eda had laughed as well, but not as hard as Luz’s fiancé.

Looking back to her daughter, she finally noticed the bandage she was wearing around one hand. Smirking, she gestured to that.

“Don’t tell me your weak nerd arms gave in.”, she joked and Luz huffed, rubbing the bandage with the healing sticker.

“Amity just had to transform her hand into a damn abomination while in labor. Seriously, who even does that? She sliced my hand right in half.”, grumbling, she looked back to her fiancé and gave her a small smile before looking back to Eda, “I almost missed the birth because the healers had to patch me up first. But there won’t even be a scar because they had my hand reattached just a second after it happened.”

Still grinning, Eda punched her shoulder, then Luz leaned closer to her, lowering her voice.

“Just don’t tell Mami. She’d lose her cool.”

Shaking her head and laughing, Eda walked past her.

“I won’t, don’t worry.”, after making her way around the bed, she sat down on the edge and caught Amity’s dazed gaze, taking her hand after permission, “Hey Minty. How’re you feeling?”

“… ’M good.”, the young witch slurred, trying a small smile, before breathing through and looking to the side where she kept her pup in view, “… Tired.”

Eda nodded, cupping her hand with both of hers, before softly patting the back of her hand.

“Lily will be here this afternoon to look after you two. Your siblings are still in Latissa on Government business, they asked me to tell you because they couldn’t get a hold of you. But they’ll be back tomorrow.”

She could tell that was a lot of information for Amity to process so she made a note to tell Luz as well. Leaving the witch to try and observe the room again – probably to make sure it stayed safe for her pup – she turned to the crib now finally.

There she was.

Her tiny granddaughter.

She had a bit lighter skin than Luz and just about Amity’s hair color. And she was so damn tiny.

Eda found herself getting scared, suddenly. This was a really small kid. This was like, a stupidly small child. She would not hold that baby for any number of snails.

Camila seemed a lot more comfortable around the baby, though. She had respected Luz’s wish to leave her in her crib for the time being, so Amity could get used to so many people around her pup so suddenly, but she was already reaching in and brushing the tiny thing over her cheek.

Well, okay, that seemed easy enough. Eda could do that, someday, when the kid was like twelve or something.

King and Luz were talking about something while Raine looked just about as amazed by the small creature as Camila was.

Sensing their amazement and figuring that Raine didn’t exactly have that much experience with children, either, Camila took the hand of Eda’s spouse and guided them down into the crib, brushing their knuckles against the incredibly soft skin of the baby’s cheek.

Amity didn’t even flinch at that. Either the sedatives were really strong or she felt incredibly comfortable with the people in the room. Looking back to the young witch, Eda confirmed the latter. Through half-lidded eyes, Amity was leaning back against the pillow, her other hand that was not held by Eda draped across her belly, while she was calmly watching Camila guiding Raine’s hand against the infant’s cheek.

She wondered how much Amity had actually adopted Luz’s family as her own once her parents had been imprisoned for their crimes against the public.

Judging by her calm reaction, she didn’t mind them being around her and her loved ones in the slightest, even in the now starting incubation period. Finally, Luz leaned around King and reached into the crib to lift her little daughter up and cradling her close to her chest. The baby didn’t even wake up, which made Eda chuckle.

“She’s got your sleeping habits, kid.”

Amity’s hand in hers shook when she started laughing alongside the older witch and Luz flushed in deep red when her mother confirmed.

“Sometimes, not even me shaking her would wake her up to school.”, Camila added and Luz huffed, bopping the infant in her arms.

“You guys are being mean to me in front of my daughter.”, she tried pouting, but King deadpanned.

“In front of your sleeping daughter. She won’t hear any of this.”

They started laughing again while Luz couldn’t suppress a little smile herself while looking down at the infant. When they had all quieted down a little, Luz pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead, before approaching Camila. Shooting a gaze towards Amity first to ask her permission, she then placed the baby in her mother’s arms and kept her hand cupped on the baby’s head, smiling.

“That’s your abuelita, mija.”, Luz mumbled softly and Eda almost felt her own heart breaking with the light sniffle Camila gave. After all these years of calling Luz her mija, Luz starting to use that label for her own daughter now made the human tear up.

While Camila greeted the little pup, Eda turned back to Amity whose head was softly nicking every time her eyelids fell. She had to be exhausted.

Tugging on her hand, Eda got her attention, then she lightly pushed the crib away to get up and adjust Amity’s pillow for her.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down. We’ll take care of your pup.”

A sleepy gaze crossed with Eda’s but before Amity could object, the older witch was already adjusting the settings of the mattress to be flat again, before helping Amity lie down on her side.

“You can stay awake for as long as you want, but you should be comfortable with it at least.”, shooting her a grateful gaze, the younger witch yawned, then she adjusted the blanket around her future daughter-in-law and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry about your pup, okay? Luz is taking care of her.”

That seemed to soothe Amity. She mumbled a soft “thank you” towards Eda and curled up a little, before continuing to watch the scene before her, the blinking of her eyelids already getting slower.

When Eda turned back to Camila, she discovered that Luz had taken her daughter back already and was safely cradling her before going around the crib and catching Eda’s gaze.

She knew that Luz wanted her to say hi, too.

“Luz, I’m not so sure about holding-”

Chuckling, her daughter adjusted the baby, before taking Eda’s hand.

“You can greet them like this first if you don’t wanna hold her. Or you can sit down if you like.”

Huffing, Eda fidgeted shortly, before rubbing her hands together and breathing through.

“Just, uh-… Sitting would be nice. I’m-… Holding the bat kids was an entirely different thing, you know? They could fly. Your kid can’t fly.”

Luz had to laugh at Eda’s rambling, pulling on her hand, she ushered King out of the chair by the window, before letting her adoptive mother sit down in it. Camila helped out by placing a pillow on Eda’s lap, then she was all set. Luz studied her face again.

“If you’re too nervous, you don’t have to hold her. I can hold her over your lap if you want to.”

Trying to wave her off, Eda forced a laugh.

“Pfft, you can just say you don’t trust me holding a baby, kid.”, she tried to joke around, but Luz just gave her a smile.

“If you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to. That’s all I’m saying.”

But Eda wanted to. She definitely did kind of want to hold the tiny fragile baby that Luz had made together with her fiancé. Even if she was nervous and a little bit scared and so amazed by how small such a tiny thing could actually be, she did kind of want to hold that baby. Patting the pillow, she finally breathed through, then she opened her arms.

“Okay, I’m ready. Bring it, kid.”

Smirking at her antics, Luz leaned in and kneeled, then she slowly placed the baby in Eda’s arms. It was so tiny. It was so stupidly tiny, it wasn’t even as long as Eda’s forearm. Hiccupping, the older witch instinctively cradled the tiny, tiny infant in her arms and a warm feeling overcame her.

A really warm feeling.

If that was maternal feelings, then Eda swore she was going to be the best dang grandmother she could be for that child.

She brushed over her temple and the baby squirmed slightly. Apparently, she had woken up sometime during Camila holding her and was now kind of fighting against the snug swaddle blanket she was trapped in. Eda didn’t even notice she had tears in her eyes when she already felt the first tear rolling down her cheek.

“Wow… You’re my granddaughter now, hm?”, she asked and that tiny thing yawned, her arms struggling in the swaddle, before softly smacking her incredibly small lips. Eda found herself smiling immediately, “Titan, that’s new.”

Luz’s hands undid the blanket that was wrapped around the baby, then Eda laughed tearily when the infant stretched, her absolutely tiny fists stretching up to her face and rubbing her cheeks. She was apparently waking up and while she knew that incubating infants didn’t open their eyes yet, she found herself wondering what eye color the child would have. Adjusting the baby, she cradled them closer, then she smuggled a finger into the fist and giggled in delight when the baby grabbed it, despite not wanting to open the fist at first.

Looking up to Luz, who was still kneeling in front of her, she managed a smile, her teary expression probably matching the one on her daughter’s face.

“She’s perfect, Luz. But, let’s be honest, you two made a stupidly small baby.”

Laughing under tears, Luz nodded then she brushed over her daughter’s head and pressed a small kiss to her forehead to which the baby responded with a huff.

“Yeah, when I first held her, I was so scared she’d just slip right through my arms. But I think Amity would have killed me if I had so much as stumbled so I concentrated really hard not to let that happen.”

Eda’s gaze shot up from her granddaughter to her future daughter-in-law who was calling from the bed, her words slurred from the sedatives and sleepiness, but still very much poised if needed.

“… You better not drop our child, Luz.”

Raine had to laugh at that and went to soothe the new mother, while Eda turned back to the baby in her arms with a smile.

“Titan she’s small…”

The following few minutes were pretty much filled with tearful giggles and a very excited King who almost knocked the crib over when Luz called him to say hi as well. When Eda and King had calmed down a little, Camila had taken Luz outside for a little mother-daughter walk in the nearby park and King had gone with them for snacks. The older witch got up and carried the baby back to the crib, smiling when she lifted them up to her face. Resting her forehead against theirs, she kept like this for a moment, before stopping in front of the crib.

Amity had fallen asleep by now, even if she was flinching with every littlest sound her daughter made, so Eda looked over to Raine.

“Wanna hold the baby, too?”, she asked and Raine blushed.

“I’d-… I’d rather wait until she’s a little bit older.”, she admitted and Eda nodded before still gesturing her spouse over. Raine got up from the edge of Amity’s bed and joined Eda, putting an arm around her waist while Eda still cradled the baby close, taking care not to jostle her too much.

She yawned again and from the corner of her eyes, Eda saw Amity’s eyes opening, unfocused and probably very much still asleep but still attentive to her daughter. Chuckling, she turned back to Raine.

“Boy, I’m sure glad I only had two adoptive children.”

Shrugging, Raine caught the baby’s fist with their free hand and tickled their tiny fingers, but she wouldn’t open her hand this time.

“I’m sure you would’ve made a great biological mother as well. As you’re already a great adoptive mother, too.”

Shrugging, Eda brushed over her temple again, leaning into Raine.

“Nah, I’m glad I never had a baby. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to go through that.”

“Fair enough.”, Raine whispered, but their tone indicated that they had stopped listening to Eda, engrossed by the child in her arms. She softly kicked, which caused them to chuckle, before she settled back against Eda’s chest, curling in slightly and breathing through, apparently getting ready for her next nap. Raine sighed softly.

“Honestly, I’m glad I never had a baby, too. But having a grandchild is amazing.”

Grinning, Eda kissed their forehead, before carefully maneuvering the baby back into the crib and swaddling them the best she could, watching her breaths deepening and calming as she fell asleep again. Then, Eda pushed the crib next to Amity’s bed, to which the young witch immediately responded by reaching into the crib from the side and resting her hand on her daughter’s belly. Smiling, Eda took Raine into her arms and watched as both her future daughter-in-law and her granddaughter slept peacefully, leaning her head against Raine’s.

“… You’re right this is amazing.”

She already knew that this child would have the two best mothers she could ask for. And she knew that her entire family, including her furry uncle, three grandmothers, and one grandparent, and their twin uncle and aunt would do their damn best to make sure this child had everything she needed.

Smiling, Eda reached down to brush over the baby’s cheek and pulled Raine closer.

Maternal feelings or not, this was amazing.

---

Let me know if you liked it!

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autisticandroids · 3 years

Note

I appreciate you being Dean concerned and not Dean critical. I’m sure you’ve already answered this before but what do you genuinely like about him? A lot of his good traits get twisted in your meta (and in the show) which is really interesting! But like. What about him do you just think is neat?

Also, you don’t talk about Sam a lot but I’m rewatching season 8 and it really feels like both a continuation of preseason one -> season one (Sam has a normal life, Dean is gone -> Sam wants to return to his normal life but Dean coming back gets him back in the game) which also gives it finale vibes :(

Besides the fact that the stuff with Amelia is really boring, it all just feels ooc and like a step back for Sam. Not to go on a rant but Sam seemed to finally make peace with his life back in season 7.

The stuff with Amelia also has both the same and the exact opposite energy as the stuff with Lisa. During his time with Lisa, it was always like Dean had one foot out the door back to hunting. During his time when he goes back to hunting with Dean in season 8, it feels like Sam always has one foot out the door back to Amelia.

That and I just can’t bring myself to give a shit about Amelia (maybe because she’s boring and inconsistent, maybe because info about her is drop fed instead of presented mostly all at once like with Lisa in season 6, maybe because she’s just shoved in for something for Sam to be up to and it feels ooc to me idk)

I thought I’d like season 8 (and I do really like a lot of Cas’ stuff but he’s always my favorite anyway so that was basically gaurenteed) but a lot of the stuff just makes my brain feel like a white noise machine. I’m only on episode 10 so I’m sure it’ll get better for me once the Sam stuff gets resolved but for now it’s very.... eh.

Thoughts?

okay so, what i like about dean. hm. that's hard! i love dean, for all sorts of reasons, and i know i'll miss stuff, but: - he charms me, on a sort of pure, animal level. he's very charming, that's true within the show but it's true for the audience, or at least me, as well. he's funny, he's affectionate, he's sweet, and he tries so hard. and it makes me love him - he's compellingly tragic. like dean is a fucked up guy, he hurts both himself and everyone around him because of patterns of trauma an neurosis he can't break out of. no one wants to be a bad guy, no one wants to hurt the ones they love, least of all dean, but he can't stop doing both those things. like his self-made cage of ideology, emotional repression, and control is killing him, and it's killing everyone who doesn't get away from him, and that's sad! it's awful! no one is winning except dean's self-image. he will sacrifice everyone and everything he loves on the altar of never having to re-evaluate himself. or, i hope he won't. but he might! and that's sad! it's the perfect tragedy! - second hand deangirlism due to cas kinnie disease. men will be the first person who was ever nice to castiel and then me and castiel will love them forever about it. - he is my little puzzle box and i will solve him - straightmarried gf i liked that sam ran off and tried to escape The Life in s8, that makes sense to me. i think sam really fundamentally doesn't want to be a hunter and the only reason he gives up on trying to leave post s8 is that it is impressed upon him that he's completely trapped. he can never be free. dean will always drag him back, kicking and screaming. i actually feel like sam's equivalent to lisa isn't amelia, it's jess. i talked some about that here but like. both jess and lisa were kind of synecdoches for a false ideal of the american dream, each in their own way. they're both images of suburban perfection, and what draws the winchesters to them is the desire to fit into that image.

but comparing lisa and amelia..... like, dean promises sam that he will go try to make a normal life with lisa, and then he does, because that obligation is all he has left to cling to. like dean is nothing but a miserable little pile of duties and tasks, he doesn't know who he is without a chore (see: demon!dean's total directionlessness) and lisa is the last promise he made to his brother, so he fulfills that. she's an idea to him, not a real woman. the thing he's clinging to, in sam's absence, is not lisa, but the idea of a normative suburban lifestyle. but then the moment sam shows up and voids his own last wishes, dean is like okay bye i don't need to fulfill this obligation anymore. like he was never all that interested in lisa. he didn't love her and his relationship with her was built on obligations, normative images, and anxiety over her safety, which finally resolves itself in dean horrifically violating her by asking cas to wipe her memories.

whereas sam is with amelia because he like, meets her and they form a connection. they hit it off. and sam has a pattern of like. when he wants to get away from something, especially if dean isn't around, he jumps into bed with the nearest girl who smiles at him and then forms a super intense with her. his early season one-off love interests, ruby, and now amelia. (amelia is actually kind of the last time he does that, because after season eight he gives up trying to escape for real). but what he's clinging to there isn't an image that he's trying to fit into. it's the girl herself. like he likes amelia and he wants to be around her and he dives into like. spending time with her and building a relationship with her. and like amelia is a real woman and sam sees her as a real woman. like she's a fucked up mess and so is he and they connect. like she's a bitch and she clogs her drain with limes. also #MyGirlfriendsHusbandFightsForYourFreedom. like samelia is a little boring but i don't begrudge sam that. it's almost compelling because it's boring.

i'm actually not a huge season eight guy myself but my issue with it isn't samelia.

actually, and this is a complete tangent, can i bitch about season ten for a second? like. okay. seasons eight and nine are about sam learning that dean will never let him go. that he's trapped forever in the hunting life and trapped forever with his brother, that dean will do horrific things to him in order to keep them together. and slowly just... giving up. deciding to relinquish his dreams of getting out once and for all.

and then season ten rolls around and suddenly sam makes a hypocrite of himself? suddenly sam is the one who will go to any lengths to save dean, even against dean's own wishes? NOT believable. like sam should be like. sad and fucked up about it, but letting dean go his own way. if anything, cas should be the one trying to save dean against his will, that's way more cas' move. like there's definitely a certain level of cas -> dean :: dean -> sam that exists in the show, at least in terms of protective fixation. cas is somewhat more respectful of dean's boundaries and autonomy, but he's the one with a pattern of blowing up at dean for being self-destructive etc etc.

like, sam should have been way different in s10. i don't know exactly what i would do with him, maybe give him his own distinct plot? or maybe have demon dean last somewhat longer and make "demon dean tries to kill sam" a whole multi-episode arc, i think that would slap. and then the relationship fallout from that can be many more episodes.

like imo this happened because jeremy carver got his start in season three, when sam legitimately was trying to save dean against dean's wishes, but in s3 that made sense. like, one, the brothers were much closer then, dean wasn't quite as much of a prison guard for sam, but two, much more importantly, dean's deal was sam's fault. he blamed himself. he wasn't just trying to save dean from dying, he was trying to save dean from going to hell because of him. like girl, it made sense in mystery spot. but this is not the energy you should be bringing to the table with sam in s10. ooc!

#spn #asks #anonymous

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obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

Random Lipstick Headcanons

I like red lipsticks and I like wearing lipstick when I want to feel like a bad bitch. Or when life’s being a badder bitch than me. I can at least struggle pretty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This is the bros reactions to you wearing a very complimentary, alluring lip color. Or power lip color. I don’t know what to call it. I guess this is gender neutral? I’m not trying to mention gender specifically.

They TOTALLYYYYY have a crush on you at this point. They just haven’t owned up to it. May take a crack at writing a second part for the Undateables. I’m at chapter 21/22 and feel like they’re not really mentioned :/. Not enough for me to really know what they’re like.

Lucifer

Is very surprised to see you wearing lipstick. In fact...it’s the first time, isn’t it?

His heart stutters, almost as if the color scares him.

It doesn’t. It excites him. More than he imagines. There’s something about the pop of color that draws his eyes in immediately, like a moth to a flame

Or so he thinks. Lucifer thinks that sounds nicer. In truth, it’s like a magnet trying to drag him closer. Your lips are just suddenly...very enticing. He’s thought about kissing you a few times before now but he certainly doesn’t want to feel his resolve crumble because of some color!

And yet, it is the essence of beauty itself. He feels as if you should be immortalized in a painting. You exude a classic kind of charm that makes his dusty heart squeeze.

He’s a bit behind on human fancies, but is this an attempt at courtship?! You certainly have his attention!

Mammon

WOAH, WHAT’S THIS? WHY YOU BEING ALL FANCY, HUMAN?!

It doesn’t even have to be a glossy lip. No matter how tsundere Mammon acts, he’s INCREDIBLY perceptive when it comes to you. He notices the minutest of changes.

THIS IS A BIG CHANGE! IT’S BASICALLY A BEACON!

Your new lip color makes you a cool, shiny thing and Mammon LOVES shiny things.

He’s gonna be stealing so many glances!

You don’t even have to be trying for a sexy vibe to be sexy in Mammon’s eyes. You take his breath away with this lip color. He just---boy has to turn around and bite his lip.

His heart’s doing stuff it hasn’t done in centuries and oh baby, he wants that lip color all over him!

Will either act like you wearing lipstick is nothing special (like he doesn’t notice) or goes into mild interrogation mode. It’s not for some other demon, right?!

Wants to touch your lips and see what it feels like, but doesn’t.

Might try to drag you along to be a makeup rep for one of his photoshoots. Then you can try on lots of lipsticks and pose with him. They can do a kiss photo for swatches, right? Prove it’s transfer-proof or something?

His attention’s on you AAALLLLL day--especially your lips

If he notices it’s smudged, he’ll try to wipe it away or fix it with his finger. Might almost out himself with how gently he does so.

Levi

He’s no stranger to watching people do makeup--he’s a big fan of cosplay makeup and body paint transformation

There’s just...something different about when you do it. He tries to tell himself it’s because you live with him, but that doesn’t feel quite right

His eyes light up when he sees the way the color compliments your skin. It makes your eyes twinkle but he’s really focused on your lips

It wakes up something ancient and irrational in him; he wants to give you a pretty shell or rock for some reason??

He just gets all excited and wiggly. Even his tail wants to wiggle!

You’re just pretty, okay?! Not that you’re gonna know, dummy!

Subconsciously, he thinks it reminds him of beautiful, vivid scales. Then that sends him down a rabbit hole of how pretty you’d look if you had scales

In general, I headcanon that Levi can see the slightest differences in colors. He and Asmo are basically tied in this, and they far outpace the other brothers.

He’d be extra stoked if the color is from the blue or purple family because those can be hard to pull off but they often make really good looks

Being Levi, he can’t outright compliment you. He’ll just say ‘it’s probably good for a normie human lipstick, but have you seen THESE?!’ and shows you some of the flashier Devildom ones

HE SHOWS YOU A BUNCH AND GOD HE HOPES YOU GET AT LEAST ONE BECAUSE HE WANTS YOU TO WEAR IT! DON’T THINK HE’S WEIRD BECAUSE HE SAVED MAKEUP, OKAY?!

Get one with a slight shimmer or color change. Or better yet, do a gradient!

Levi would absolutely explode if you wore his colors!

If you do a TSL-inspired look, he’s going to die. And have dreams of you saying sweet things to him, the yucky otaku, with your pretty, pretty lips

Satan

Much like Lucifer, he’d want to wax poetic about how the lip color gives you an enchanting aura

Quite stricken, very flustered. He can hardly muster a witty remark.

Satan is basically grasping at straws and hoping his usual cool, toothy grin hides the fact that he’s ready to blush himself straight into a sunburn

Mild teasing, all of it good natured. He’ll pepper in comparisons to Helen of Troy or historical figures that resemble you. It’s mostly to see you blush, but it’s his way of saying it indirectly

He hasn’t quite come to terms with how much he likes you yet but he knows when he sees that lip color, he wants to smear it all over your cheeks and down your chin.

The idea of making a mess of something so pretty and carefully crafted just really gets his blood going. It’s a wicked thing, isn’t it? Symbolism for a demon corrupting a human? You could be his pretty human, yes.

If he wants to think or make a coherent sentence, he can’t look at you when you’re wearing lipstick

Subtly moves one of the books from a nearby stack into his lap because boy has a boner.

If you decide not to hang around or get pulled away by one of his brothers, Satan will disappear to indulge his fantasies of you wrapping those pretty lips around his cock. He’s not even mad about it. Not in the moment; he feels bad a few days later.

Asmo

His darling human is spreading their little beauty wings? Oh be still his beating heart!

He’s the first to compliment you and actually takes an analytical approach before the idea of genuine compliments pop up in his head. It’ll take him an hour or two to start getting a little flustered by you ‘dressing up’ and silently tormenting himself with ‘Is it for me? Is it for someone else?!’

Asmo can’t help but coo over how well you know your color wheel and how you match your undertones

The type to hold your face in his hands and pat your cheeks or squeeze them a little

Teases you about making lipstick swatches on his lips or his arms (”Or, you know, wherever. You can kiss me anywhere you like!”)

Wants to drag you away and see if any of his colors will look good on you

You will soon have a matching lip color! He’ll make sure of it!

BEGS you to let him swatch his lip colors on you, or apply them. He’ll make sure to take care of your lips in between--a lip mask, exfoliation, the works! (”I’ll even kiss them for you!”)

He wants you to try on all his lip colors because he wants to memorize how breath-taking you look in all the colors. Even if it’s platonic with some lusty teasing, Asmo has a genuine love for bringing beauty to people

In some ways, it makes his heart ache. It reminds him of when he was Heaven’s Jewel.

But now he’s here in the Devildom, and he doesn’t really regret it because he met you. You can be his jewel now, and maybe he can be yours. Maybe it all starts with some lipstick, hm?

Beel

He notices it but doesn’t really get the significance of it

Is there a reason? Is it for an event? Is this a dominance thing? An attraction thing?

Demon can see from a great distance, far greater than humans, and there’s a chance he sees you before you see him

In all honesty, he probably thinks you have something on your lips, like a sauce or something

It isn’t until you get closer that he realizes it’s some kind of lip product

If you’re happy, he’s happy

You always look cute but this color seems to make you happy and it gives you this bouncy glow about you. That makes Beel all warm inside, to the point where he wants to purr.

Sometimes when he gets really excited his wings want to buzz. They kind of want to buzz.

Doesn’t mean to, but can’t stop staring at your lips. It’s a color he’s not used to seeing on you and his brain recognizes that change

Wouldn’t be against you kissing him. What? It might transfer? He gets food and crumbs all over his face on the regular so it’s not a big deal.

You might be shy about it? Don’t want him to get teased? Well...you can always practice. You know, somewhere he can hide it. Just to test it, that is.

KISS HIS STOMACH! He’d be so damn close to a nut Beel would have to bite his own tongue or shove something in his mouth before you do it

Would wear your little kiss marks like a badge of pride so slap ‘em on wherever you want!

“Do they have orange lipsticks?” he asks. Blushes deeply immediately, not realizing he actually said it out loud. You should try one of those, he thinks. You know, because that’s his color and it’ll match his nails. He thinks that’d be neat.

Just wants you to kiss all over his chest and stomach.

Belphegor

Wary of the lipstick. Doesn’t trust it

Looks like a nightmare for his pillows. Paranoid about you getting it on his sheets

If he’s half asleep and notices it, the color change will jolt him awake long enough to really observe it

“For me?” he teases as he rolls over or pull himself from under covers and pillows to really look at you

It’s pretty, for sure, but you’re not coming anywhere near his bed unless you can prove it’s not coming off on fabric!

What’s that? You can?

Belphie probably says something sarcastic and mildly asshole-ish but you defend your precious lip product, talking about human reviews and tests and things. “People have kissed their boyfriends and girlfriends on camera! It works!”

He makes you kiss your arm (he’s a fucking idiot, should’ve asked you to kiss HIS arm) to prove it won’t rub off before he lets you rest on his bed with him

Snuggles into you like he always does, playing with your hair just the tiniest bit.

Belphie hopes it’s subtle but he’s slowing twining and inching his fingers closer to your face. Your lip color is almost mythical and he kind of wants to touch it after all the fuss he made.

Does it make your lips feel different? They look different. Would it react differently to demon skin?

Will tell you it looks nice and that you look pretty but if you ask him about it later, he totally denies it. Insists he must’ve been talking in his sleep

He dreams of you kissing him awake or kissing him to sleep with gentle cuddles and pretty lips

#Obey me!#Obey me! x reader #Lucifer x reader #Mammon x reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Beel x Reader #Levi x reader #Leviathan x reader #Asmo x reader #Asmodeus x reader #Satan x Reader #Belphegor x reader

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

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

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”

#monster romance #monster x reader #demon #demon x reader #female reader #reader insert #my writing

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undead-merman · 3 years

Note

this is the yan monster luci and satan requester, not a poly relationship, but just like a mutual agreement that they don't want any low life demon going near their s/o

Okay I’ve got Lucifer as a Manticore and Satan as a Sphinx. I love writing these, its a shame I can’t write these faster.

🦁Manticore Lucifer🦁 🦁Sphinx Satan🦁 as Yanderes GN- Reader SFW

Lucifer

Appearance

As a manticore his appearance is fearsome and even his presence is enough to make most others turn tail and run. His mouth is full of too big teeth, some of the long canines poking past his stern frown.

He has small hands that are more paw-like, with razor sharp claws at the end of them. He has paw pads on the tips of each of his fingers, and 3 small pads on his palms. Unlike normal paws, he does have a thumb and surprising dexterity with them.

Along his forehead and temple he has small black horns, they’re perfectly symmetrical which is unusual for a chaotic creature like himself. On top of his head, past his horns are two lion ears that twitch and turn to even the softest noises.

On the back of his neck, down his spine, are small quills tipped with a viscous venom. He is able to flatten them against his body to make them flat for his clothes many of his kind have spots open in their clothing for their spines to poke out, but Lucifer does not have have that in his clothing, He only has a spot open for his large, slightly torn bat like wings.

His tail is long and ends with a red tipped scorpion stinger, quills randomly set along it. It normally hangs low and curls up to avoid knocking things over.

His true form is like that or a normal manticore but with piercing yet silky and shiny black fur and bright glowing blood red eyes.

The Undefeatable Beast

Manticores have a reputation of being mighty beasts unable to be slain by any man, but there are rumors of some being slain. Lucifer, one of the oldest and most powerful has never been bested. Every opponent he’s ever faced has perished and only the surviving onlookers have been able to tell the tale.

His viciousness is renown all over the devildom; while he acts like a gentleman whose temper is always under wraps, he’s quiet vengeful and easy to anger. He doesn’t like to show it, he lets it simmer until he can get his revenge.

His appetite is ravenous and loves to have barely cooked meat served elegantly. He doesn’t like it raw as it feels barbaric and he enjoys the finery of life, but if he needs to he doesn’t mind eating anyone until not even the blood is left.

He does have a vulnerable side however, as since he’s that of lion and Scorpion he needs to sunbathe in order to be in top condition if he doesn’t he’s sluggish, but more brutal. Since there's no sun in the devildom he uses a light to warm himself as he lays on his sides. He looks surprisingly peaceful when warming up.

Spending Time with You

The one thing he can’t defeat, is you. He has such a soft spot for you that he is willing to do anything you ask. Giving him your big doe eyed look makes his monstrous face scrunch up and flush at you. He really can’t say no to you.

His favorite thing in the world is to lay down with you in the warm light, looking up at you as the light engulfs you and all he can see is your smiling face. He loves it when you go to run your finger through his hair or pet him. His wings shiver when you do that and his spines do as well before tightly flatting against his skin allowing you to touch him without getting poked at all,

He is fiercely protective over you. He snaps at anyone who touches you and stands behind you as someone talks to you, his icy glare focused intensely on the person you're talking with.

He loves to take you to enjoy elegant food, sights and sounds. His favorite place to take you is the opera, he loves to listen to the soft gentle melodies as he takes your hand into his.

His Dark Tendencies

Lucifer does not like others interacting with you. Should you defend another person from him too much he’ll start to get insecure. He’ll think you're forgetting about him and falling in love with someone else, and he hates that. He’ll take you even if you struggle and lock you up and keep you to himself until he feels you’ve forgotten about the other. Of course his opponent would be dealt with swiftly, and painfully.

He loves seeing you locked up, it makes the dark monster instincts churr in delight. Completely at his whims, of course he’d never hurt you too much. Should you make him angry or god forbid you try to escape, he’ll punish you by applying constant pain without actually hurting you. Painfully clamping your skin more and more until you go mad and beg him to stop. But if you made him truly angry you’ll be lashed and whipped until he feels better making you count each one out loud.

After Punishments he’s overly sweet, he’ll kiss every bruise and cut, and look at it so tenderly as he whispers about how good you are for him and how much he loves you. But he’ll graze his razor sharp teeth over your sensitive bruises just to remind you to never do it again.

Misc Stuff

When he’s extremely relaxed around you, he will let out a purr though, it’s a deep inhumane noise so deep that it shakes your chest if you’re near. He gets embarrassed if you mention it to him.

He greets those he’s close to by pressing his forehead against theirs. He does this with you, cupping your cheeks and smiling as he does it; with his Brothers and Diavolo it’s a simple tap, but with others he only nods his head. If he doesn’t like someone he simply just stares at them without blinking, glaring into them with fury.

He wants you to smell like him all the time but he gets a bit flustered about doing it. He’ll scent you by rubbing his palms, wrist and cheeks on you while you sleep or aren’t paying attention while cuddling. He feels like a tomcat when he does it but he can’t help it.

Satan

Appearance

His body is more centaur like, with the lower body of a giant winged lion. His fur is a lustrous blonde and gold color and his lower abdomen is large and bulky with thick skin and muscle.

His wings spread wide and are tipped in shimmering gold that shines in any light. The wings which are just under his humanoid hip have a blonde and gold fur, thick and volumes. While most of his mane is centered on his hips, it does have a trail of it going up his spine and shoulder blades.

Two lion ears sit on his scalp of much longer hair then normal, tied loose with a lime green ribbon. His ears constantly moving back and forth betraying his hidden emotions. They flick at nearby noise, or something that interests him, and lay flat when angry or embarrassed.

A Guardian Creature

Sphinx are mostly known for their stories of guarding treasures and tombs. A protective species and loyal to a fault. Satan is just like others of his kind, He focuses his attention to his collection of books and scrolls. Very solemnly does he allow anyone to come near his collection let alone trusts them to borrow from it.

He’ll never admit to it, but he has a lot of the same habits that Lucifer does. He enjoys lazing under a bright warm light, and your gentle strokes on him. He even purrs just like Lucifer too.

He seeks out riddles he cannot solve, he’s said to befriend those who tell him a riddle he can’t solve. He craves to expand his knowledge and find truly intelligent and wise creatures.

Spending Time with You

You had thrown him through a loop when you were given the quest to find a riddle he couldn’t solve and gave him a cheesy dad joke. Never has someone even attempted anything like that. It fascinated him and he quickly became obsessed with you.

He enjoys seeing your point of view on all kinds of topics. He’ll bring you a gift and ask for a discussion on it. He loves hearing your voice talk about the gift he got you and your thoughts on the history behind it. It stimulates such a deep part of his brain that he’s become addicted to it and he nearly brings you one everyday.

He also enjoys stupid fun. Stuff that he doesn’t have to think about too much, he finds it deeply relaxing, though he dares not let anyone but you see it.

If you ask he’ll let you pet his soft feline pads, he’ll get all flustered and squirmy with you rubbing and massaging them. They’re so soft and pink, but while you're doing that he gets to feel your hands in his paws and to him they’re the softest thing he’s ever felt.

His Dark Tendencies

Satan is so deeply infatuated with you, he simply wants to be around you constantly, never letting you out of his grasp. He, of course, loves to bring you small, cute gifts so he can see your face heat up and you look so happy, but a dark sadistic side of him loves to see you scared. The tears dripping down your face and your eyes shoot open with terror behind it. He’ll always be there to comfort you right after but a sick part of him loves to see you like that.

If you ever tried to hide from him or try to run, he would quickly catch you with a dead, unloving, and dark face. He’d carry you back, tie you up and humiliate you, force you to eat out of a cat bowl, and spank you till your rear is black and blue. He always grins from ear to ear when he sees you limping after.

He loves chaining you up and listening to you read to him. He likes playing with the chain as you read and he always complements how it looks on you.

Misc Stuff

Ashamedly he is much like a cat at heart. He finds himself a lot of time chasing bugs and chattering at birds in class. He’s so embarrassed by it that he threatens anyone who brings it up, if not clawing them in half on the spot.

He sits like a cat does, his lower body having its paws tucked in on themselves as he reads. He often falls asleep like this too, his humanoid body frozen while the bottom one is all curled up in a tight ball.

Unlike Lucifer’s more refined palette Satan can eat whatever it is put in front of him, fresh or dressed, it does matter at all, but he doesn’t eat a lot for someone his size.

Dealing with Interferences Together

Dealing with each other was nearly unbearable, but having another one in on the fear competition was unacceptable to both of them. With the two of them they could control the scenarios you were in, keep you at least near them. But having an unknown contestant was dangerous. What if They tried to touch you? Kiss you? So what they’ve done to keep you around them, the carnage they’ve left behind to scare you away from them.

Whenever someone threatened that, they agreed to quickly and quietly deal with this before you even noticed They were gone. Stalking them and finding the perfect time to strike, when together it was deathly quiet, none of them talked and the tension was so thick you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it. They would get into fights fairly often due to them bragging about the time spent with you.

They hate working together, but they do work terribly well together as well. They get everything done quickly and without a trace. Their go-to is to kidnap the offender and bring them to a private room and take any frustration they got while working together and take it out on them. Those who go into that room never come back out. After everything is taken care of they’re right back to fighting with each other for you.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me monster headcanons #lucifer x reader #satan x reader #yandere lucifer #yandere satan

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