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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 4

You wake up in the murderer's den. Things can only go downhill from here - especially when one of the killers expresses an unusual interest in you. WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con, threats of intimacy, general slasher-y, a bit of knife play

All things considered, Horangi has won at life.

He has a boyfriend – an amazing boyfriend, a bit older, a soon-to-be-husband, and his best friend in one tight package. They share hobbies, they share views on the world – practically everything that they can talk about, they share with each other. It’s a perfect relationship, especially considering where they met and how they were at first.

He has an amazing job in doing private contracts with his boyfriend – some people may call them killers for hire, war criminals, and monsters draped in a uniform, but Horangi likes to call himself a promising immigrant entrepreneur who works for no one but himself and enjoys having most days off.

He has an amazing, big house in the middle of picture-perfect Austrian wilderness, with every room dedicated to his or his partner’s tastes and hobbies, and that is literally four times as big as any of the apartments he rented previously.

He has an amazing hobby that allows him to combine hiking, shooting, and socializing – and König shares this hobby with him, actively supporting and engaging with it.

So, when he drains the blood from his knife – too bad the perfect lil’ victim isn’t here to clean it with her tongue – and starts to look for the remaining group of dumb tourists, deciding to head home just for a minute or two, to see if some of the prey would accidentally found it, he…

Fuck.

*** You woke up with a throbbing headache. Not surprising, considering you were hit in the back of your head with a force that would be enough to turn your brain into a scramble. You slowly opened your eyes, surprised that you weren’t blindfolded, and gently, slowly tried to move your head around to see the room better. Bright light coming from the doorway immediately made you ill, nauseous. You close your eyes and groan, feeling the pain only intensifying.

You’re very surprised to feel a cold cloth being slowly put on your burning forehead – you’d expect to be hanging from a meathook and have your buttocks eaten by a pack of wild creatures beyond your comprehension.

— Tssh, Scatzi, don’t move. Hit you in the head too hard, ja? Good thing you won’t need it anyway.

You hear the voice – not masked, not changed from multiple layers of different material – clean, unfiltered voice. That familiar boyish tone and deep gruff of a man from the corner shop – the tall one, the most mysterious one, the one that made you paranoid for the whole journey with his remarks.

God, you feel stupid.

It’s just like in slashers – the killers are always the weird guys who you meet at the start of the movie or some force from the legends you hear about this place. You feel dumb, you feel weak, you feel like you’re going to throw up because the big man – the one that shot Marty with a fucking crossbow – is gently caressing your forehead with his hands, smearing blood and grime all over your skin. You want to puke.

— Wh…whatever you’re doing, m…make it quick.

You can on ly master this, your lips are too dry for something else. You wanted to ask him different questions – where are you, who the fuck are he, what are his goals and mommy issues that made him prey on innocent young adults just having a shitty getaway in the forest, but you remember the other guy’s reaction to dumb questions – you want to die quickly, not slowly and painfully.

— Ach, Hase. Eager, are you?

This…isn’t the answer you were hoping for. His hands slowly creep down your face, pinching your cheeks – he touches the softer parts of your mouth, and your nose, tugs on your ears, and does whatever he can to just feel your features in his fingers, which makes everything only creepier. He pushes a finger past your lips – you want to bite it, but he only laughs at your pathetic attempts.

He tells you something through a laugh that makes your head hurt more. Something about how Horangi was right about you being a kitten – that you bite just like one. You feel embarrassment spreading across the heat of your cheeks, knowing that your best attacks are only an amusement for your captor.

His hands then move down, slowly. He pushes it under your shirt – and here is where you really start to panic. You’re mostly fine with getting killed, even in a weird and somehow funny, theatrical way, but you don’t…you don’t want to handle this before he eventually strangles you to death. You sob, your face twitches in pain-stricken expressions – tears only make your head hurt more, but you just can’t stop yourself.

The guy – he still wears a hood, just not the weird thing that makes his voice change – only laughs and plays with your chest, squeezing and touching it with his huge, bear-like hands. He is relentless in not caring about your well-being, and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you, but tears just won’t stop flowing, and the heat in your belly, provoked by that unwanted affection, grows more with every second.

His touches aren’t painful – but you wish they were. He is observing your body, studies it with his hands and you don’t like it one bit. Too rough, too strong for you, he has manners of a forest troll and, to be honest, in that stupid hood of his, he looks just like one. You’d jump from the bed and run to the nearest exit, but your head is still throbbing, and you still tied up to the bedpost. God, this is embarrassing.

— You’re trembling like a virgin, Schatz. Are you sure that your friend was a whore and not you?

König laughs, looking at the perfect display under him. Yes, yes, he knows that Horangi will be pissed with how he sped up the story and decided to keep you in their house, but he is sure he can't convince his pretty boyfriend that it’s all for the best. They need a toy – precious darling, something weak and helpless, something innocent to bite into. You are a good runner, to his surprise, but your fight is as miserable as your expression – you can’t put up a good fight and he fucking lives for each second of that.

— Stop touching me! — Are you going to stop me? — I…

— I love trembling prey. You look so perfect under me, Hase, I don’t think you’d stand a chance.

Of course, he is a hunk of a man – a wall of muscles, brutal strength, and nothing but raw power, so even if you were an Olympic champion in fistfights, you probably wouldn’t stand a chance against him anyway. He is trained to kill, he is training everyone else to kill – and he needs some snacks for how good the hunt was. Two dumb tourists, killed on the first night in the woods – and with others still having no fucking idea. God, it makes his dick hard.

König pushes his hand under your shirt and finds where your tits are concealed with a bra – sports one, really nice, he thinks, but you’d look much better in blood-stained lace. He yanks that stupid thing off your chest – your nipples are hardening almost immediately, even under your shirt. Ah, looks like he forgot to turn on the heater.

Well, you have to get the heat from his body then.

— S…stop, please.

— You like it. Why should I stop?

— I don’t like it!

His other hand goes to run a finger across your soaked, heated panties. The rough texture of the glove fabric is grazing your labia, and touching your gentle, wet folds makes you squirm and cry even more under him – he knows you hate it, embarrassed to be this aroused for the hands of a killer, but he just can’t fucking resist. He knows your hands are tied firmly to the bedpost, he knows you won’t be able to escape even if he’d leave the room right now – so he slowly removes his hand from your panties, showing you the glistening, wet material of his gloves.

He licks your wetness from his fingers – and you let go of a half-moan, half-cry, disgust mixed with fear and pouring into delicious feelings of complete devastation. Poor thing, so scared under him – so embarrassed of your arousal, he just fucking knows you aren’t like your friends. You’re still dumb, of course, with how you agreed to go to this forest even after all of his attempts to say that this is dangerous, but you’re also pretty, adorable, and don’t try to either attack or seduce him or Horangi – and he had a fair share of people who were trying to do both, until they’d found out he is a masked killer for real, and not just for the slasher season atmosphere.

You’re a little rabbit on his slicing board – and the knife appears in his hand too quickly for you to even start panicking. The blade lingers on your skin, slowly removing such silly, useless things like shirts and modesty, closing your skin just enough to burn a little, but not enough to do real damage. He killed more than 100 men with his knife, and skinned alive more than at least a dozen – König knows how to operate, especially when you’re bound and scared into submission.

— Ko, what the fuck are you doing?

Ach, Horangi is here. Finally, he just started to worry that those dumb tourists have learned how to fight back and now are trying to fuck with his partner. It would be funny to look at, of course, but he still doesn’t want anything to happen to him – so he sighs with relief when he sees a familiar masked figure in the doorframe. Then he remembers that he wasn’t supposed to take in pets so soon.

Fuck.

— I thought we agreed to not take her so quickly.

Horangi takes a step further, watching as your eyes are pleading with him for help. You’re adorable – praying for help from your tormentor, so sweetly broken already that he can barely contain himself. You’re adorable, but he isn’t in the mood of playing with victims nicely, and he is still a bit pissed off at König for ruining the promise he gave him. Not the best attitude in an honest relationship, especially when you are trying to introduce a new member of those relationships. Honestly, sometimes Hong-jin was thinking about hiring a couple of therapists. And then killing him after extracting every answer. Totally normal behavior.

— I know, but…she fell into my hands. Couldn’t say no to an opportunity.

He knows that König is grinning under his hood – his eyes are gleaming with happiness as he just got his new favorite toy on a silver platter. Horangi melts a little bit at seeing him this happy – the latest couple of missions weren’t the best, so this hunt got to be good. And so far, it is.

— You killed the stoner?

— Ja, was easy. Surprised he died from a bolt in the head, he didn’t seem like a guy who has much up there.

God, his sense of humor is fucked up – Horangi laughs for a good few seconds, not even trying to contain his emotions. You are still on the bed, your hands are tied to the post, rough ropes sit too tightly on your wrists, already angry red from all of your struggling. God, you’re looking delicious, covered in the blood of your friends, crying and looking like their own little death goddess. He knows he shouldn’t give up on temptation – and he also knows that he wants to fuck you.

Laying here, without a top, with a wet stain on your jeans from your own arousal, you don’t even know how delicious you look. How hard it is for both of them, to stop looking at you like a horny dog and just do their thing. Killing thing, that is. Yes, they suppose to kill their victims, not tie them up to the bed and think about burying their cocks deep in your welcoming, wet pussy.

Fuck, he has to be stronger than this. Killing is okay, torturing is okay, maybe kissing his boyfriend on top of the rotting, dead bodies is okay, but he just knows that he can’t start touching you because he would lose control and they might spend the whole night taking you from one dick to another, instead of doing what they have to.

Maybe, just a little touch would be okay. Like a gamble, russian roulette in trying to see if he would be able to contain himself. Like Horangi had such great luck at anything that is connected to gambling.

— We can’t keep her here.

— Why? I would feed her and walk her once in a while.

You whine, and König immediately goes to cover your mouth with his hand. You cry even more, feeling the filthy taste of your juices, blood, and dirt enveloping your tongue and making you want to gag. This is digesting, he is disgusting, you hate nature, wilderness, and this fucking country. If you were to get out of this place, you’d beg every oil company in the world to make the biggest fucking gasoline refining factory out of this forest.

— What about the police? She can call them.

— No signal.

— She could scream for help.

— We can cut off her tongue.

— She wouldn’t be able to suck our dicks then.

— Oh. Scheisse.

— Exactly. We can’t keep her here.

— But you said that we can…

— Not now, I mean. Having a kitten like ‘er at home makes me want to stay inside and fuck her whole day, not running around after her stupid friends.

König finally gets it – and Horangi is right, much to his dismay. You are a distracting little thing, getting into the killer’s layer too early. Adorable and weak, keeping you inside would be the best option – but they still need a bit of space to guy your friends in the basement, so keeping you inside would make you…nervous. Scared. Not a pleasurable type of scared, you can go crazy from horror and then turn into a useless, empty sex doll. König would still brush your hair and love you nonetheless, but it would be a waste to keep you like this.

Then, again, it would make it easier for you three to have sex…

— That’s also true. But I already cut her clothes.

— We can let her run for a bit. Make her friends panic, fuckin’ civvies aren’t even aware that two of their friends kicked the bucket.

— Doubt they care about each other that much.

— Good thing we got involved, right?

Horangi’s hand gently pats on your head – you wince from pain and he slightly moves the cold cloth on your forehead. The movement is similar to how people are petting cats – you hate it, you feel your legs preparing to kick him in the direction of his dick – but König presses on your ankles before you could do anything. Asshole.

— Need to do something with her shirt tho.

— She’d look adorable in mine.

— Yeah. Would cover her too much tho…I miss looking at boobs like this.

— You have them, no?

— It’s pecs. if anything, yours are bigger than mine.

They both laugh – you are munching on König’s hand more actively, trying to get this out of your mouth. They talk like you aren’t even here and your eyes are filled with tears again – from humiliation, from fear, from desire to run away because they don’t even consider you an enemy and you just want to get out, as soon as possible. They look almost normal together – like two loving partners discussing the latest news and hobbies, not a pair of psycho killers who almost made you hot and bothered for their stupid, definitely not attractive, masks.

You’re topless, barely wearing your jeans and panties – not exactly the best outfit for running through the forest. Would attract attention, of course, but you could also catch a cold, and they can’t exactly fuck a sniffing, coughing darling who is too sick to understand which hole are they using and what type of knife is plunging in her tender, open skin.

König throws a shirt on you – it’s musky, covered in mysterious stains, smells exactly like him, and a bit of pine tree. It’s such a typical red flannel that it makes you gag from the stereotype – but it covers your boobs and he is even polite enough to slowly untie one of your hands, firmly keeping it in place to get you into the sleeves and…

Once he had two of your hands in his grasp, you bit on his glove especially hard, kicking him in the groin again – this time, not even bothering to hear his moans. You jump to the floor, barely seeing anything as your view is darkening with a throbbing headache. You have to master everything you have to not throw up on their boots – and you ignore their disappointed yelps as you duck under the shorter guy’s hands and run to…you don’t even know where to run, you just know that you are not staying with the people who are treating you like a fucking lure to get the rest of your friends.

You can’t go to your friends – you already saw just how much they don’t want to listen to you. You can’t call the police and you can’t return to the camp because then the killers would know where all of your stuff and your friends are. The only chance you have is to fight them off – which is already proved itself as a Bad Fucking Idea(™. All right reserves to Amazon, you got your critical thinking skills during an online sale), so you need to find a distraction – or a weapon.

You’re literally in the house of murderers. If horror movies taught you anything, it’s that those kinds of houses are usually filled with the weapons of crime – or extensively sharp deer antlers.

You run to the second floor, dropping something behind your back – trying to get as much distance between you and them as possible, you crawl on the stairs, holding your head in poor attempts of soothing the pain. Their house is…normal.

Posters, paintings, some weird fucking shit like anime girls with cat ears staring at you with their bigass eyes and even bigger boobs – one of them had a knife plunging right into her chest, kinda making you feel it was more like target practice than fap material. You drop a big Lego set behind you, and the guy – bigger one, you still don’t have their names and you don’t want to know them – is yelling something about 12 hours put into that thing. Good. You can at least do psychological damage.

The house is as normal as a killer’s den can be – no weapons lying around, no knives just kinda lying there, much to your disappointment. Inflation is real, even serial killers can’t afford to just have their guns lying around like they used to. Fuck, this used to be a proper country. Fuck, you used to spend your days at home, not running away from masked killers who are keeping their houses cozy and tidy and honestly kinda clean even if this has sort of man cave vibe, which is totally understandable and adorable if…

Shit, you got distracted. Dead people, dead people, dead people, you can’t allow your natural drive to strong partners and masks to make you forget about the…death of very annoying and honestly plain mean people who were making your life worse actively every day and who had it coming anyway, but they still didn’t deserve such horrible death without even letting their parents know where their remains lie and…

Before your brain could master more annoying thoughts, you pushed to an open door. There has to be something you can use – pills, knives, guns, remains of the previous victims that can be sharpened and used against them so you can let them how it is to be violently penetrated for once! Come to think of it, judging by how cozy they were with each other, they probably already get penetrated a lot…ah, diversity wins, your murderers are bisexual and fine with polyamory.

You open the door, pushing it with all of your body weight – and you fall, only barely able to protect your face with your trembling, shaky hands. God, you’re miserable.

— Shatzen found a way into our bedroom. You sure we can’t keep her, Tigeren?

— It would be boring, no?

— We can use her for a bit and then let go. Make her show us where her friends are.

König sits right next to you, patting your head.

— Braves Mädchen, so smart. Didn’t know such smart girls were going on such dumb field trips.

— Can she be the smart one in the group then?

— Well, she did go to the woods alone. So smart.

They both laugh again – you grit your teeth, saving every bit of strength you still have in your body, to just push from the ground and get on your legs again. You can do this, you can still run away, you just need to try and push further, a little bit, just a few steps more, just…

König slaps your ass, hard enough to send you on the floor again. You groan, both from pain and humiliation.

— Dumb girl. Do you really think you can be this adorable and expect us to just contain ourselves?

— I…I…

— What is that, kitten? You want to apologize for running away? Want to beg us to save your friends?

— I…f-fuck you. Both of you.

Another harsh slap – the other guy gets his hand in your hair, tugging it just enough to make you groan from the headache again.

— Oh, this is exactly what you are going to do.

A noise from outside of the house startled you both. You hear Max’s voice – annoying as always, that know-it-all tone that usually makes your blood boil, but what sends happy shivers down your spine. You were found! Finally, at least one of the group is smart enough to find you and distract the killers so you can both run away and…

Oh god, Max is outside and yelling, he is definitely alone and they both are muscular, big gues with a bunch of weapons and you as a hostage and…shit.

— Go on, Katzen. Scream for him, ja? Lure the mouse in.

You grit your teeth, yelling out the best “Get the fuck out of here, it’s not safe” as you can.

They laugh.

The world finally turns to black with another season of silly girl falling conscious in the best plot moments.

#konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #horangi x you #horangi #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #konig

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aphroditelovesu · 9 months

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The Lost Queen - I

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader

— word count: +1,592.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom , @hadesnewpersephone

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 1

''This is so annoying.''

You looked up only to find your friend glaring at you angrily. You cleared your throat and asked her, ''What's so annoying?''

''All of this!'' She snarled, pointed at the history books on the table. You were in the library, studying about Alexander the Great at the request of your history teacher. Your friend complained, she hated history class and the teacher. You didn't hate the classes, but you didn't like Mr. Sheffield. He was so arrogant and brazen. You were sure he was getting involved with a student, but you had no proof.

Yet.

''I know you're angry but there's no need to take it out on the poor books, May.'' You scolded her and picked up the book she had nearly torn up in her anger. ''Besides, if you screw up this book, you'll have to buy another one.''

''I don't care about that book!'' May snarled and pulled your hands towards her, ''(Y/N), please tell me that you found something rotten about Mr. Sheffield to get rid of him for good?''

You rolled your eyes. Had this. You've kind of become a spy in the meantime, trying to find something about your terrible history teacher and get rid of him. It wasn't ethical, you knew, but you'd do anything to get rid of that bastard. You already had noticed him looking at your legs shamelessly when you wore a skirt or shorts.

''I'm looking for. It's not that easy, you know? I'm not a professional spy.'' You grumbled and went back to your reading. You were reading about the Battle of Issus and its importance in the conquest of the Persian Empire.

May mumbled something unintelligible and you patted her neck comfortingly.

''Here, can we continue our reading, please? We have a work about this topic and I want the highest grade.''

''You're such a nerd, (N/N).'' You and her both laughed and she went back to trying to focus on the open book in front of her. Each was reading about different battles to get the job done faster. As you read about the Battle of Issus, May read about the Granicus.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally removed your sneakers and could lie down on your bed. The day was long and exhausting and you just wanted to be able to sleep until you became one with your bed.

But unfortunately you couldn't. You had to go to the market at your mother's request to buy some vegetables. The thought made you more tired but you were a good daughter and for that, just for that, you got up and went to the bathroom for a much needed shower, as you had been sweating all day due to the infernal heat it was doing.

''Ugh.'' You grumbled after getting out of the shower. You had taken a little longer than you normally would, but you felt so tired and the hot water helped to relax your sore muscles. It was a shame you couldn't just fall asleep

You dried your body and put on some comfortable clothes and put your sneakers back on. You took your phone and your headphones, putting some upbeat music on Spotify and put your phone inside the small bag that had the money to buy the vegetables at the market. As soon as you left the house, you closed the door and started walking towards your destiny.

The music was the only thing that enveloped you and you didn't notice someone calling you until they grabbed your shoulders, startling you.

''What the hell?'' You mumbled and looked at whoever had stopped you. You frowned as you didn't know the older man who glared at you sinisterly.

You felt disturbed by the man's piercing gaze on you, ''Hm... Hi?''

He didn't answer you and continued to watch you intently. This was getting creepy and bizarre.

''Uh... Since you're not going to say anything, I... I'll go...'' You were about to put your earphone back on, when he grabbed your right arm. ''Let me go, now.''

He glared at you and let go of your arm slowly, you pulled your arm back when he let go. He spoke, in a low voice but you heard it loud and clear: ''The shadows of fate surround you... The world will never be the same for you, girl.''

''What?'' You asked but he looked at you for the last time, smiled weakly and turned his back, leaving you standing on the sidewalk and thinking about the man's sinister words. ''Must be just another crazy dude...'' You shook your head and decided to continue going to the market.

You ignored the squeezing of your heart inside your chest, ignored the feeling that something was wrong. And that was your first biggest mistake.

You left the market with bags in your hand, still thinking about the mysterious man's words. What was it? Why was this bothering you so much? And why did you feel a tightness in your heart as if something was wrong? You shrugged, deciding to ignore it all and go home as soon as possible, but first you had one last place to go. At a bookstore, you wanted to buy a new book that you heard had arrived and you felt very anxious about reading it. As if you have to read it.

You smiled brightly when you arrived at the store, opening the door to find hundreds of books. You put away the bags you were holding and headed to the history book section. For some reason, ever since you've read about the Battle of Issus, you've found yourself wanting to learn more about Alexander the Great. You could look up wikipedia, but you'd rather read a book.

Approaching the shelf, you found the book you were looking for, The Life of Alexander the Great, and opened it to flip through. You decided to take it and paid for the book at the register, picking up your bags and putting away the new book. You were eager to start reading it.

As soon as you got home, you packed your groceries and ran with your book to your room, changing clothes and putting on your favorite pajamas, lay down on the bed and opened the book to the first chapter. Your eyes read each word eagerly and you frowned as you read the next paragraph:

''Alexander was married with a woman of an unknown origin and he was deeply in love with her and devoted, according to sources at the time. Her name was (Y/N)..."

And why did your head begin to throb painfully? You tried to stay awake, but your eyes were too heavy and the headache made it worse. Maybe a nap... You bookmarked the page you left off and placed the book on the corner table and allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, your body in desperate need of a rest.

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer in your room.

You tried to get up but your body still ached, you groaned in pain as your head throbbed again. What was that?

Finally managing to sit up, you looked around and felt dread creep through your body. You didn't know this place, much less the people who watched you cautiously and suspiciously. Your eyes widened when you noticed the ancient greek armor and swords in their hands and even more when you saw the symbol of Ancient Macedonian. Vergina Sun.

You recognized the symbol from the history books. This was a dream, it had to be, but if it was a dream, why did you feel pain and feel like you knew these people who looked at you like an alien. And you felt embarrassed when you noticed that you were still in your pajamas, dressed completely differently from the men who were looking at you.

''What are you doing?'' A loud authoritative voice echoed and you cringed even more. First, the person who was speaking approached the group of men along with another slightly taller man and second, why did you understand them? It wasn't the language you spoke, you knew that as it sounded nothing like your mother tongue but much more different. Greek, you noticed and that left you even more perplexed.

You didn't understand greek as far as you knew.

''What is that? Who are you?'' The man dressed more formally than the others, asked looking at you curiously. He had dark blonde hair and his eyes were two colors, blue and brown. He wasn't very tall, but you felt small with the way he looked at you. He seemed to be the leader, you noticed.

You looked like a fish out of water and one of the men laughed and said, ''Looks like she's lost her tongue, Alexander.''

Alexander... You widened your eyes even more and walked away from the grip of the man who was holding you. No... It couldn't be...

You had read a book about him... And his appearance...

By god... You were face to face with Alexander the Great.

— lady l: I hope you liked the first chapter. This was her introduction to the ancient world and the next few will see (Y/N)'s interaction with Alexander and the others.

It has not yet been proofread and may contain errors, so I apologize for that. Until the next chapter my loves!

#yandere history #history #yandere historical characters #historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #long fic #the lost queen

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rosesaints · 11 months

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help wanted ! chapter two.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader summary: more or less, you agree to be your one night stand's babysitter rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: fantasy and allusions to explicit content series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

Your first job was working at an ice cream store over the summer when you were sixteen.

All things considered, it was a relatively easy job and the pay was decent. Take an order, cash the customer out, and scoop. Rinse and repeat. The owner was this sixty-something old lady who had been running the stand in your hometown for as long as you could remember, and was the only employee until that summer when she decided to retire. Your mother had bargained hard with her to get you the job, drastically exaggerating your very limited work experience and bragging about your many, many achievements, “My daughter is just such a go-getter, she won’t let you down!”

She was very generous and mostly left you to your own devices, so you were free to blast your music and get free ice cream. How hard could it be?

One hot summer day proved you very, very wrong. There was a line out of the door, the owner was nowhere to be seen, the A/C had died on you very early on in your shift, and the ice cream grew runny and unpredictable under the scorching, July heat. You vividly remember the feeling of melted ice cream running down your hands, serving some very lopsided cones to a group of middle school girls as they looked you up and down. You remember the shame, the embarrassment, and the urge to run for the hills. Ice cream dripping everywhere.

You know the feeling tightening in your chest all too familiarly.

Miguel O’Hara and his daughter are looking at you expectantly, and the words keep getting lost on the tip of your tongue. Admittedly, you had never planned on seeing Miguel again after last night. It was a brief moment of confidence and clarity for the first time in weeks, and you don’t even remember the last time you had felt so hot, so wanted. So, so utterly destroyed. You woke up with a pep in your step and felt ready to take on the world.

You make eye contact with Miguel and the memories come rushing back like wildfire.

He watches you struggle to keep your moans contained, has to gloat as you melt around his cock. “You like watching me stretch it out, don’t you? Say it.”

Every instinct in your brain was telling you to scurry back to your house and lock yourself in your room for the rest of the summer. You were halfway through formulating a plan on how to best avoid your next-door neighbors when you realize you’re still standing on their porch with a plate of blueberry muffins.

Miguel, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected, maybe even a bit smug. He’s looking at you expectantly and with the composure of someone who didn’t just rail you in a random bar’s bathroom. “Can I help you?”

Your mouth dries and you can feel your palms sweating under his gaze. “My… my mom sent me over with some muffins. Blueberry. Really good.” Oh my god.

He raises an eyebrow and leans forward to look over at your house next door, cocking his head just slightly in realization. “You’re the daughter I’ve been hearing so much about? I thought you were still at college.”

“Y-Yeah, I just graduated.”

“Oh. Congratulations,” Miguel looks down at his daughter earnestly, smiling and gesturing to the plate of muffins on the verge of falling over in your hands. “Gabi here has a sweet tooth, and I’m afraid I’m not that good of a baker. Your mom’s been a huge help since the day we moved in.”

The only thing you can do is nod in futile agreement, of course, your mom is just so helpful. Practically a saint. You’re going to need to have a long talk with her later about being too neighborly and offering your help to people. Gingerly, you hand the baked goods over to Miguel and prepare to excuse yourself with a long-winded explanation about how you really should go, they must be so busy–

He beats you to the punch. “So I heard you’re interested in babysitting.”

You swear that you can feel your heart dropping to your stomach. You knew that you could very easily refuse, turn around and go home to pretend this interaction never happened, but then you imagined your mother’s disappointed gaze, returning empty-handed without even considering his offer, thinking about the fact that your parents have been letting you crash at home for free and that this was the only thing they had asked from you to do in weeks. You hardly believe the next words that come tumbling clumsily off your lips, unsure and unsteady. “I… am?”

Miguel grins. “Do you want to come inside and talk about it?”

It’s, quite frankly, a terrible idea. But not nearly terrible enough to stop you from accepting with wide, doe eyes and bringing your feet forward to enter the O’Hara home.

There are a few things you notice when you walk in: his house is spotless. The decorations are few and in between, but they’re classy and timeless. A couple of soccer balls float around the hallway, and it looks like they were working on a puzzle just before you got there. On the walls, there are many, many pictures of Gabi in various areas of the house, Gabi cuddling with a soccer ball when she was less than a year old, framed canvases of Gabi’s past birthdays with cake smeared all over her face, lots of selfies from the infamous Facebook mom angle, but it’s endearing. You can feel the love pouring out from every single one.

Not a single photo with a wife, thank god. You don’t know how you could come back from that one.

You’re led into an even more impressive kitchen as he gets Gabi settled into her breakfast, fruit loops with a side of Dora the Explorer as you hear him ruffle her fluffy, brown hair. “Espérame un momento. Sé buena, conejita.”

Miguel walks back into the room and you wonder what the next best course of action is, where you could even start. Thanks for fucking me into next week, it was really good. I don’t know why my mother is so insistent on me becoming your babysitter. He’s even taller than you remember, handsomer too, and you take the time to revel in just how handsome he was. Warm daylight cast a soft glow on his features, long lashes fanning his high cheekbones, reminiscent of some Roman god you’ve seen in a museum once before—

He’s looking at you with something akin to amusement and you have to quickly pull it together, embarrassed of having been caught missing the last thing he said with your ogling. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked what made you wanna babysit. Your mom told me you have an internship with the Daily Bugle and a few things lined up. I was wondering what made you wanna jump ship all of a sudden,” He smiled lightheartedly, and the room felt a little less tense, a little less fraught on your nerves “Babysitting’s not nearly as glamorous as working with J. Jonah Jameson. Just a little bit similar in terms of the temperament, I guess.”

“Oh,” You feel embarrassed. How does someone explain a failed engagement and the root of your lost prospects to a one-night stand and potentially your future boss? Yeah, my ex-fiance may have gotten me blacklisted from most of the multi-media companies in the tri-state area. Gotta make do with what you have. “You know how it is. Tough job market nowadays, and my mom insists since you guys just moved in. She adores Gabi.”

“She’s a handful,” He laughs, warm and husky and it’s addicting. You can’t help the smile that blooms across your face and he looks endearingly over to the living room. “I actually would really appreciate the help. Her old babysitter’s going abroad this summer and I’ve been searching for a while now for a replacement. If you’re interested, I can tell you more about what I’m looking for?”

“Yes! I mean, yeah. I’m... I’m thinking about it.”

“Well alright,” Miguel’s smile grew, and you felt your heart swell at his approval. Focus. “Can you give me your phone?”

Your brain short-circuited at that moment. “For what?”

“So you can text me when you’ve decided,” His eyes shine with something mischievous, but it feels genuine. It was an innocent and harmless request, and you couldn’t argue with his logic. You probably would have needed his number if you accepted, anyway. “And so I can ask for more muffins in the future.”

He’s tapping his name and number down on your phone, listing out some expectations and requirements for the job that you should probably remember. At that point, you contemplated whether or not he even remembers the events that occurred the night before, wondering how he was acting so casually and discussing the rates of pay of a babysitting job ($30 an hour was pretty damn good), as he hands your phone back to you.

You thought you were in the clear, ready to make your leave, until you took your phone from him, and something in his gaze shifted, more heated and hungry.

Miguel murmurs your name, so close all of a sudden. Goosebumps lit your skin on fire as he brushed your hair back, examining the turtleneck you wore. His hand brushed the side of your neck in a manner that was anything but innocent, scrutinizing the fabric with the pads of his fingers and you start to crumble, frozen as all you can do is stand there. “This is different from last night.”

This was the man you had fucked the night before . “I couldn’t… couldn’t let my parents see.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but he continues to mess with your collar, pulling the fabric down just a little bit, just enough to see the assortment of purple and red bruises that marked your neck. His eyes darkened ever so slightly, as he pulled the fabric back up and met your eyes again. “You missed some.”

“What?”

One of his hands drifted down, and you resisted the urge to turn around and check that Gabi was still busy, hoping that she was still wrapped up in her cereal and her show. His hand is rough, calloused, and hot. So, fucking hot . Miguel’s hand stopped suddenly just past your skirt, squeezing the soft skin of your thigh. “Here.”

As you looked down, you noticed that he was right. You could see a vague outline of his handprint beginning to bloom in red on the skin of your thigh, and your breath gets caught in your throat. His smile was sharper, then, more dangerous and he let you go.

“I’ll be waiting for your decision.”

You were lightheaded and half-delirious as you made your way out of his house, wishing Gabi a quick goodbye as she grins at you happily, thanking you for the muffins with a full mouth of cereal. The entire walk back to your house, you could still feel him staring, still feel his fingers around your neck, how impossibly full you felt from those hands only the night before—

You didn’t dare to look back.

Practically stumbling through your front door, your heart raced as you faced yet another surprise for the day. Your mother had been waiting in anticipation by the door, wearing an expression of hope and optimism that seemed oblivious to the fact that she had just dropped a bomb on your summer plans. A whole summer with that man? Panic set in as you wondered how on earth you were going to survive this ordeal.

"Well?" your mother asked impatiently, her eyes brimming with curiosity. You glance at the clock and realize you'd been gone for quite some time, leaving her imagination to conjure up all sorts of scenarios. None of them probably held a candle to what actually happened. "How did it go?"

Taking a deep breath, you began to respond, "I told him I'd think about babysitting—"

Before you could even finish your sentence, your mother's squealing interrupted you, a sound that rivaled the exuberance of a lottery winner and surpassed even the joy she displayed when you graduated college, hell, even when you told her you got engaged . Her enthusiasm was infectious, and it left you both bemused and slightly apprehensive.

"Emphasis on thinking about it," you quickly interjected, trying to temper her soaring expectations. "Don't get your hopes up just yet."

But your mother brushed off your cautious words with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't be silly, hon," she asserted, her voice overflowing with conviction. "How could you possibly say no?"

How could you possibly say no?

Of course, there was only one reasonable course of action to take once you made your way back to the privacy and security of your room, far from your mother’s overwhelming positivity. You looked up “Miguel O’Hara” on your laptop immediately. Your research proved fruitful and abundant, as only a handful of his names were in your area.

For an hour, you found out several things: Miguel O’Hara attended Stanford University nearly nine years ago, played soccer and track on a full-ride, and majored in their Bioengineering program with a minor in Ethics and Society and Spanish. Since then, he worked his way up the ladder starting as an intern for Alchemax International, and was currently one of their lead geneticists, with about a dozen awards and articles about him with lofty descriptions like, “A genius in the field of genetics.”

Before Gabi, his Instagram was sparse, with soccer game photos, picturesque screencaps of Stanford, and updates about his genetics research here and there. Five years ago, it felt like he came alive, a million vibrant little photos and updates of Gabi and her penchant for soccer spreading to every corner of his feed. There were bright, wide smiles on every slide, and you could tell that she was the light of his life, the focus of all his efforts.

Still, no wife in sight, and you release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding.

Diving deeper, you saw that he also coached your hometown’s little league girls’ soccer team and you briefly smiled at one of his posts with all the girls and their new trophy, with Gabi at his shoulders and flashing toothy grins at the camera. There’s so much pride, so much joy in just one photo.

And then as recently as two months ago, they had moved into the house next to yours. It explained why you had virtually heard nothing about them when you were in college, too caught up in the haste of graduating and setting up your internship, setting up a life with your fiancé—

There’s a nervous, pregnant pause as you remembered the life you were on the cusp of just a month ago. At that moment, you were supposed to be interning at the Daily Bugle, accompanying reporters to events and press conferences, diligently editing and proofreading, and hauling ass through the bustling streets of New York, clutching cups of coffee in your hands—This dream that you used to fantasize and romanticize for the longest of times, and all you feel is hollow.

Instead of bustling around a lively apartment that wasn’t entirely yours , discussing wedding plans over takeout and Netflix, you were sitting alone in the familiar confines of your childhood bedroom. Cross-legged, you contemplated how you allowed yourself to be swept up in someone else's plans, losing sight of your desires along the way.

The past three years replayed in your mind like a worn-out tape, each day blending into the next as exhaustion seeped into your bones. The weariness, the constant drain of energy, was your constant companion as you followed the path your fiancé had paved for you.

But now, there was a flicker of realization that ignited within you— didn’t you deserve a break? Didn’t you deserve some fun?

Your eyes hazily drifted back to the laptop screen before you, illuminating the room with its gentle glow. You think of bergamot and crisp green leaves, a summer well spent at your neighbor’s house, blueberry muffins, soccer fields and dark, dark eyes. The answer seemed clear as day.

No use in lingering in something as foolish as what could have been, when you had something right in front of you.

At dinner, the room was filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and the gentle hum of conversation about each other’s days. Dinner was a familiar meal your mother had fretted and labored over for the better part of the day, something warm and distinctively comforting from your childhood. The sun’s just barely setting outside, casting the room in a warm, orange glow and everything feels normal, less daunting.

It’s nice, you had been forgoing dinners with your parents in favor of takeout in bed with your favorite trashy reality show during your first few weeks with them. You had forgotten that despite the way that your life had been abruptly upended in recent memory, you had managed to resurface with relative ease due to their support.

But glancing across the table at your mother, you felt a little bit less supported, her face contorted in what she believed to be subtlety, struggling to contain her curiosity and eyes brimming with unasked questions. She was trying to feign nonchalance, attempting to appear casual while her anticipation was clear from across the dining table.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, she seized the moment. Her voice carried a hint of hope, laced with the yearning for a resolution. "So are you done thinking about it?"

Caught off guard, you momentarily froze, your mind scrambling for a response. You mustered a reassuring smile, trying to cloak whatever lingering uncertainties you had left. This was the woman who had been your biggest cheerleader, who had picked you up off the side of the road after you lost your first job at the ice cream stand, took you to Ben & Jerry’s straight after, and cut off ties with your old manager like it was nothing. You smiled. “Yeah. I think I’m going to take up Mi–Mr. O’Hara on his offer.”

If your parents noticed any slip-ups in your wording, they don’t mention it.

“You know, isn’t it just delightful that there’s no Mrs. O’Hara in the picture—”

“Mom, we have got to talk about boundaries. Seriously,” You nearly drop your fork into your food, aghast by what your mom just implied. “He’s our neighbor.”

It was late at night, bolstered by a surge of courage, when your fingertips danced hesitantly over the screen of your phone, lingering above the name "Miguel O'Hara." You consider your first text to him heavily on your lips, testing the weight of each word as you typed and re-typed over and over.

Hey! So, I've made up my mind—I'm in for the babysitting gig!

Not quite.

Guess what? I've decided to accept your babysitting offer!

Not quite satisfied with that either, you take a deep breath and decide to go for a more straightforward approach.

Hey Miguel! I've been doing some thinking, and I'd love to babysit Gabi! Just let me know when you need me, and we can work out the details.

With your heart racing, you pressed the send button and watched as the message turned blue. The dots of his reply began immediately. Stopped. Began and stopped again. Then:

Can't wait :) I’ll see you on Monday?

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Oh, you were down bad .

Shaky fingers gripping your phone, you’re filled with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation, reading and rereading his response. You haven’t felt this giddy since… forever. The smile on your face grew wider with each passing moment, and you couldn't help but feel the same surge of confidence you felt the night before coursing through you.

He’s everywhere, all-encompassing. You feel him along the shell of your earlobe, whispering something absolutely shameless and incorrigible to you. It has the desired effect, your heart stuttering with desire and your sweet cunt tightens around his cock in anticipation. He places a finger on your lips and his, slick with your arousal still, and beckons you gently to still. Be quiet.

Then his teeth are sinking into your skin, hard.

“Look at you,” Miguel murmurs, drawing tight circles over your nipple as you cry out silently. “Shameless.”

Your hands are entangled in his, reaching every which way, and you babble, mindlessly, without a thought of decency as you scratch your fingers through the lean skin of his back, mouth watering at how perfect he is for you, how his size fits inside you like a glove. Running your tongue over the long muscle of his neck, tasting the salt and cinnamon and and sucking a bruise in the same spot where he had kissed and suckled the night before.

His dark and heavy lashes flutter; his head dropping impossibly close to yours, and then he’s begging for something against your jaw, thrusts growing uncontrolled, his hips catching as his cock twitches in you.

You can’t say anything back. Your breaths come out ragged and strained, crooning until he hits something deafening inside you, and then the feeling spreads across your body like wildflower and it’s so hot, it’s searing and you just want him to move, unable to function with the way he just holds there right up against that spot and lets you both feel each other like this for a second.

You don’t want him to stop; you never want this to end. It feels so good being full of you, you mumble.

“Let me taste you, cariño,” His voice is filled with need, to the point of growling. It’s different—

You can’t help the whine that escapes your breathless lips as you wake up in a hot flash, realizing that you’re still within the confines of your bedroom.

Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #mdni #miguel o'hara smut

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teaberrii · 8 months

Text

Chapter 22: Yours

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Stelle couldn’t forget about the man who saved her.

She’d left the house after another fight with her brother about Jing Yuan that day. Stelle didn’t understand why her brother was so dedicated to him. There was something Caelus wasn’t telling her, and the only excuse he gave was that he was protecting both of them. But Stelle didn’t buy it. Caelus was a delivery boy, a job he’d taken up as an easy way to get into the palace. The siblings had agreed that it would be a way to find out what happened to their mother, but Stelle felt her brother got caught up in something dangerous.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the broken tree trunk that was struggling to hold itself up. In a stroke of bad luck, it struck her when it fell.

“You must’ve been imagining things,” Caelus had said when she told him about the mysterious man who had saved her.

“I wasn’t! Why won’t you believe me?”

“You’re only hurting yourself if you get involved with them.”

“I’d rather get involved with them than magic,” she muttered.

Caelus rolled his eyes. "If what you told me is true, he used magic to help me find you."

Stelle crossed her arms as she changed the topic. “Why have you been spending so much time with the general at the palace? Why is he teaching you so much about magic? That’s not what you should be doing. You’re supposed—”

“...To find out what happened to our mother,” Caelus said, not looking at her. “And that is what I’m doing.” When he looked at her again, Stelle had never seen such a cold look in her brother’s eyes before. “I used to think how our lives would improve if we had more money… more power. But, a simple life is best, Stelle.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The people who rule our nation don’t deserve what they have. They’re criminals. All of them.”

Before she could say anything else, her brother had left.

Stelle stopped. She’d been thinking about her brother’s words when she realized she had wandered back to the same place where she saw the mysterious man.

Would she ever see him again?

As soon as Stelle opens the door, she sees March.

“Heya!” March holds up the takeout she promised to get before coming over. “Hope you’re hungry!” Stelle steps aside and March walks into the empty house. She looks around. “No one’s home?”

“Dad’s at work,” Stelle says. “...Luocha hasn’t been visiting lately.”

March puts the takeout on the counter. “No wonder you called me over. I was thinking you were spending time with him or something.”

“You make it sound like I’m using you.” Stelle hugs her friend. “I missed you, too!”

March laughs. “I know, I know. I’m just kidding!”

Soon, they’re sitting across from each other at the dining room table with a plate of food in front of them. After catching each other up on what’s been happening in their lives, March asks, “Have you heard anything from Caelus?”

“...Not recently.” Stelle picks up a French fry. “But… I dreamt about him yesterday night.”

“Oh, gosh. Don’t tell me it was a premonition.”

“I don’t know, but we were fighting about something.” Stelle sighs. “I didn’t really understand it.”

March waves her hand dismissively while holding a chicken nugget. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it. People have weird dreams all the time.”

“I guess.”

March bites into her chicken nugget. “Or… is there a reason why you’re so hung up on it?”

“Well… after I woke up, I suddenly wanted to see Dan Heng.”

“Aw, well, call him up! I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” March takes a sip of her juice. “Do you know he’s dating Cupid?”

“Officially?”

“Mhmm! He kissed her head and everything! I never thought Dan Heng would be so open about affection.” When Stelle says nothing, March continues, “Is… something wrong?”

“No. Why?”

“Well… I thought you’d be asking a lot of questions. This is Dan Heng we’re talking about! His first official girlfriend! A little late... but hey, better late than never."

Stelle chuckles softly. "Honestly... I never thought Dan Heng would date.”

March almost chokes on her food. “What? What made you think that?”

“He was just always so… I don’t know… indifferent to dating.”

“Yeah… that’s true.” March shrugs. “But aren’t we all like that until we meet that special someone?”

Stelle bites into her hamburger. “Didn’t you say you’re all going on a trip?”

“Yup. You're coming, right?” March gently kicks her friend underneath the table. “Oh, c’mon, Stelle.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t coming.”

March smiles. “Good. You’d better get packing then!”

◆◆◆

You get a text that morning from Dan Heng that he’s going to see Caelus. You know he's going alone, but you still joke that you’ll miss him while he’s gone. You expect him to flirt back, but his serious response catches you off guard.

Dan Heng: It’s best if I go alone.

You’re still looking at your phone when Pom, sitting across from you, looks up from the food he’s eating.

“Something wrong?”

You put your phone down. “It’s nothing.”

Pom continues staring at you. Then, he looks at your phone. “First couple fight?”

“Why are you smiling?”

Pom laughs. “He’s probably jealous because of what happened yesterday.”

“Jealous?”

"Well, I mean… You had your hand over a guy's naked chest, and he was flirting with you. Dan Heng's a saint, if you ask me." You think back to yesterday night. Dan Heng had never shown any sign he was jealous. He was his usual quiet self, so you never thought anything was wrong. "I know we're supposed to be getting on better terms with Jing Yuan, but he was in love with you, wasn't he? It's totally possible his old feelings are coming back."

“And I thought he was talking about Young,” you say quietly.

“Young?”

"Did you hear what Jing Yuan said about Young? He doesn't believe he's really gone."

Pom looks at the locket around your neck. "I do remember that once we open that thing... it'll set him free. So, yeah, I don't doubt that." Pom leans forward. "Hey... If Young appeared in front of you right now and asked you to go to the afterlife with him, would you?"

You give Pom a deadpan look. "That's impossible."

"It's totally possible!" Pom points toward your locket. "He's probably sitting in that thing just waiting for his chance."

You sigh. "Anyway, I have a feeling we’ll have to make a choice.” You tap your fingers against the table. “The past, the present, the future… I feel like time’s finally catching up to us.”

Pom leans back. “Y’know… we’ve been together for so long.” He looks at you with a slightly sad smile. “What if we end up making different choices?”

“I think I like you better when you’re not asking the hard questions.”

Pom chuckles. “Fine. Then, let me say that poor Dan Heng really has his work cut out for him. He needs to worry about two men from the past. One who seems like he’s rizzing his girlfriend, and the other is his past self who may or may not want to take his girlfriend back with him to… wherever that may be.” Pom sighs dramatically. “Gosh, Cupid. Tell me your secret to getting all the good-looking men. Or, do you just naturally have main character energy?

You raise a brow. “Rizz? Main character energy?” Pom picks up his phone. Soon, he shows you the meaning of the slang terms. You slowly clap. “I don’t know whether to be more impressed that you know how to use a phone so well or you’re very up with the times with your vocab.”

Pom smiles proudly. “Why not both?” Your phone dings with a message. You and Pom glance at the screen, and he smiles. “You know… You could use his jealousy to your advantage.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan as you stand. “I’m not going to listen to your crazy ideas.”

“Fiiine.” Then, he waves you off. “Don’t have too much fun on your swimsuit shopping date.”

You smile. “Oh, I will.”

After you put the dirty dishes in the kitchen, you’re out the door.

It doesn’t take you long to meet Dan Heng at one of the biggest malls in the city. You catch him standing near the entrance but when you start getting closer, you see that he’s on the phone and hear a little of the conversation.

There’s a pause before he continues, “...I understand, Stelle.” You’re slowly walking up to him now, a little curious at what he’s talking about with Stelle. “I’ll come over tonight.”

You freeze. He’ll go over… to her house… tonight? You don’t want to jump to conclusions, but that’s just suspicious and—

“You’re here.” You snap out of your thoughts when you hear Dan Heng’s voice and feel his hand in yours.

“Ah… Yeah. I just got here.” You awkwardly clear your throat. “Um… I heard you talking on the phone with Stelle. Is everything okay?”

“She wanted to get together with everyone for game night.”

“Game night?” you ask as you and Dan Heng enter the mall.

“It used to be a tradition,” Dan Heng explains. “The five of us would get together on Friday nights to play games together.”

“I guess she wants to bring that back.”

“She wants to take her mind off of Calelus.”

You can understand that Stelle must be worried and lonely. But, still. You tighten your grip on Dan Heng’s hand. “How is he, by the way? Is he… getting better?” It might be a stupid question, but you think you should ask anyway considering your progress with patching things up with Jing Yuan.

“The curse is still spreading." Does this mean the theory about you letting go of your hatred is wrong? Then, as if reading your mind, Dan Heng says, “...You and Jing Yuan are still patching things up. It’s too early to say we’re right or wrong.”

“...Did Caelus remember anything about Stelle?”

There’s a slight pause before Dan Heng says, “Apparently, she met Young more than once.”

“You’re going to what?” Stelle stepped in front of the door, blocking her brother from leaving the house. “Jing Yuan is turning you into a murderer! Why… Why would you want to kill—”

Caelus put a hand over her mouth. “You don’t need to announce it to the world, Stelle. Keep your voice down.”

She slapped his hand away. “Then, explain how killing someone has to do with finding out what happened to—”

“Mom was killed!”

Stelle’s eyes widened. “W-What?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” Caelus muttered. “But you’re leaving me with no choice.”

“Killed? By who? By—”

“The night she was taken away… She was brought to the palace to become the king’s concubine.” Stelle was shaking as Caelus finally told her everything he knew about their mother. “I hate the royal family, Stelle. I’m going to kill them all. I want to make them suffer.”

“But—”

“Young is the princess’s lover.”

Stelle clenched her fists. “...So, you’re going to kill him to make the princess suffer? It's not his fault for what happened to Mom!"

"They are pawns of a bigger scheme. You wouldn't understand."

Caelus didn’t have time to react as a sharp pain shot through his face. His head was turned, and he slowly looked back at Stelle who was glaring at him. “You’ve turned into a monster! My brother… he would never toy with people’s lives like this!”

“...Get out of the way, Stelle.”

“No.”

Caelus narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Stelle. I’m not the one who’s going to kill him.”

“...You can’t. I… I won’t let you.”

“What’s gotten into you? Why do you care so much?”

“He was the one who saved my life.”

“Are you sure that was even him?” Caelus asked, crossing his arms. “Have you met him besides that one time?”

Then, looking at her brother in the eyes, she said, “I have.”

“Has Young ever mentioned her?” Dan Heng asks.

“No… Not that I can remember.”

Dan Heng notices the conflicted look on your face. Does it bother you that Young might've met Stelle in secret? Or... is it because you don't have all of your memories?

You and Dan Heng walk in silence for a few minutes before coming to a store that exclusively sells swimsuits. You’re looking at one on a mannequin when a woman approaches you.

“Hi! Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Oh, um, not really. Just looking.”

She smiles. “Well, we have a new summer collection that might interest you!” Before you can say anything, she’s already leading you to a large selection near the back. Dan Heng casually follows you. The woman picks out a black two-piece and puts it over your clothes and looks at Dan Heng.

“What does the boyfriend think?” she asks.

Dan Heng isn’t expecting the sudden question, but he still calmly says, “She’ll look good in anything.”

The woman turns back and smiles. “Let’s pick out a few more styles for you to try!”

Soon, with a bunch of different swimsuits and bikinis draped over your arm, you’re on your way to the changing rooms. Dan Heng is waiting outside while the woman goes off to attend to more customers. He’s leaning against the wall when you unlock the door and peek outside.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

That’s when you fully open the door and reveal a lavender one-shoulder bikini top and a high-rise bottom. You gently pull the top down. When you look up, you think you see a blush on his cheeks… even though he’s looking more to the side.

“You’re not even looking.”

“I am.”

“Gosh, does it look that bad? I—”

That’s when he turns to you. “It looks good.”

Too good.

The top pushes your breasts together making them look even more flattering. The bottoms make your legs look longer while hugging around your curves. Dan Heng thought he’d been prepared for this date, but you found a way to surprise him.

You smile and look down. “Really? Hm... but let's try something else.”

When you close and lock the door, Dan Heng sighs softly, but his heart doesn’t get a break for long. When you open the door again, you step out in a black, O-ring one piece. Dan Heng never thought he’d like seeing you wear dark colours so much.

“What about this one?”

He steps closer to you. “...It looks good.”

You put a hand on your hip. “Don’t tell me you’re going to say that for everything I try on. C’mon, give me some honesty.”

Dan Heng puts one hand on the doorframe and the other on the opposite side. When he leans in, you get a whiff of his cologne and your heart races.

“I like this one better.” Coupled with the way he’s looking at you, you suddenly want to kiss him. “...I’d rather not say more.” The faint blush on his cheeks worsens, and you smile.

“Could it be you like dark colours?”

Dan Heng hears how you’re enjoying teasing him, so he asks, “If we’re talking about what looks good on you”—he leans closer—”you’d look best in all natural colours.”

Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Without any—

Dan Heng stands upright and nods at the other swimwear you’ve yet to try on. “Are you going to try those on?” He looks at you. “Or, have you decided?”

“I’m going to try them on,” you say a little too quickly.

You catch that little mischievous smile before closing the door.

The next time you open the door, you only poke your head out. “...Um, could you help me with the straps?” you ask.

Who is he to say no?

Dan Heng closes and locks the door behind him. He glances at you in the mirror who’s holding the straps of the one-shoulder top together. He puts his hand on yours and you slowly let go to let Dan Heng handle the straps. Is it silly that his occasional touches on your bare skin make you nervous? You’re looking off to the side but when you look back at the mirror, you catch Dan Heng's gaze as he finishes tying the straps. Then, he puts his hands on your shoulders.

With a genuine smile, he says, “This one looks good, too.”

You turn around and put one hand in his hair. When he doesn’t pull away, you kiss him, and he instantly returns it. His thumb runs along the curve of your throat as his body closes the gap between you and him. His hand finds itself in your hair at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer. Warmth and sweetness pour throughout your body as kiss after kiss makes the world melt away around you. You feel a cautious touch on your waist as if he’s asking for permission. You take his hand and put it on the small of your back where you feel it roam upwards until his fingers find the straps again…

Dan Heng is the first to break away. You can see it in his eyes. He’s holding something back.

“...What is it?” you ask breathlessly. You put a hand on his cheek. “Tell me.”

His forehead is against yours as he says, “Your lips. Your kiss. Everything about you… I want them to belong to me… and me alone.” It takes you a moment to realize that your back is now against the wall. The intensity in his eyes is enough to send your nerves on fire. “...You’re my woman.” His lips briefly touch yours; one of his hands is on your outer thigh. “...No one can make you feel the way I make you feel.”

His lips find your neck, and you gasp as he lifts one of your legs. Your arms go around him, holding in the breaths as his hungry, butterfly kisses travel lower… and lower…

“...Dan Heng,” you gasp.

When he kisses just above your breast, he draws a quiet moan. He looks up at you, the blush clear on your cheeks. He dips his head lower and uses his teeth to pull down your top until it reveals what he’s looking for. You’re biting your lower lip as his tongue teases its way around until you feel the warmth of his mouth. You grab onto the hook and with each flick of his tongue, you subconsciously grip it tighter until…

Knock. Knock.

“Hi! Is everything okay in there? Are the sizes okay?”

Dan Heng slowly lets you go, making sure you’re stable. Your mind is still a mess when Dan Heng says, “Everything’s fine.”

Your eyes widen as the woman says, “O-Oh! Okay! That’s good!”

Dan Heng has one of his hands on the wall beside you. Then, quietly, he says, “Seems like I didn’t tie it as tight as I thought.” You’re feeling everything all at once. Desire. Frustration. Happiness. It’s coming in waves that you’re so close to not caring about where you are. You need to feel his touch again; heat courses throughout your body as you remember every sensual movement of his tongue. “...Turn around.”

What is he planning now? You do as you’re told, feeling nervous and… arguably a little excited. However, there aren’t any hidden motives. Instead, Dan Heng helps fix your top. Then, with his hands on your shoulders and a little smirk, he says, “...All done.”

You don’t get a chance to say anything when he unlocks the door. You hear him say something to the woman before stepping out and quickly closing the door behind him.

This isn’t how you imagined your date. You aren’t complaining. You just want more.

It’s late afternoon by the time you and Dan Heng leave the mall. You can’t stop thinking about what happened in the changing room, but are you the only one? Dan Heng hasn't brought it up and shows no sign that he's thinking about it.

Suddenly, he looks at you, and asks, "Is something wrong?”

“...Was what happened in the dressing room about yesterday?”

There's a slight pause. Then, “...I heard what Jing Yuan said.” His gaze lands on the pendant. “I know Young will always have a part of you, but when this is all over… I want to be your future.” Then, as if embarrassed, he looks off to the side. “I didn’t mean to sound so serious.”

You take his hand. “I want to know what happened in the past, but… that’s just it. The past.” Dan Heng looks back at you. “If Jing Yuan’s words left any impression on me, it’s that the future is more important.” You glance down. “I… I don’t know what’s going to happen, but”—you take a small breath and look Dan Heng in the eyes—“I know that no matter what happens, I want to be with you.” You smile. “So… no more being all huffy and puffy about Jing Yuan… or Young.”

Dan Heng leans in to kiss you but stops when his phone suddenly buzzes. When he pulls it out, you see the name on the screen, and you slightly frown. Dan Heng notices and gently pinches your cheek.

“...Who’s the one being all huffy and puffy now?”

You haven’t forgotten about your job. What’s going to happen now that you don’t want to give Dan Heng up to Stelle?

“She knows I’m with you,” Dan Heng says, opening the message. “She wants you and Pom to join us for game night.”

“I bet Pom would agree in a flash.”

“What about you?”

You gently pinch Dan Heng’s nose. “What do you think?”

◆◆◆

The palace grounds were eerily quiet that cloudless night. But if one dared to venture to the underground dungeons, they would hear low growls, snarls, and the sounds of chains striking the ground.

“...What…. What are we going to do with them?” A guard holding a torch finally tore his eyes away from the grisly scene of the undead clawing at the ground, desperate for food. The guard that Luocha bumped into that night and the maid that Jing Yuan's wife had attacked were part of them.

Neither Luocha nor Jing Yuan had an answer. They kept them alive in hopes they would find a cure, but the situation wasn't improving. The curse appeared to be evolving. Even those who hadn't been directly attacked were falling ill, except they didn't turn into monsters. Instead, they were slowly becoming paralyzed.

Time was of the essence.

With the king gone, Jing Yuan and Luocha were now in charge. An announcement was made that anyone who had direct contact with the infected had to come forward. Some people took it seriously. Some didn't. Regardless, the situation had spiralled into chaos.

Misinformation spread like wildfire. With no one unable to identify what in the world this mysterious disease was or a clear source of transmission, everyone was living in absolute terror and trust was slowly becoming a thing of the past.

However, what was truly alarming was the talk between the North and the South.

“...Don’t tell me you’re creating some kind of army.”

Jing Yuan slammed the alcohol on the table. He felt a pang in his heart as he thought about his wife. “They cannot distinguish friend from foe. We are all in danger.”

The King of the South sighed heavily. “Let me get this straight. It's those who have been attacked by the infected are the ones who turn into monsters. However, those who had 'close contact' with the infected are becoming paralyzed?”

“...Perhaps it’s proximity or sharing food, clothing, and other items.”

“...Could we use magic to control the monsters?”

“It’s not about controlling them,” Jing Yuan said, a little baffled that the king he used to serve would propose such a thing. “We need to stop—”

“Think about it, Jing Yuan. They can be used as weapons of war. Humans can finally reign supreme. We can get rid of the human dragons… for good.”

Things were spiralling out of control so fast that Jing Yuan couldn’t keep up. His initial desire for revenge had dug him into a hole that was going beyond rock bottom.

Pom, as a crow, was perched on one of the iron bars of the dungeon cell. His eyes went from Jing Yuan and Luocha to those of the cursed. The shapeshifter thought back to the night he saw Jing Yuan’s wife attack one of the maids. After you'd told him about Jing Yuan's wife attacking you, Pom went straight to work. He'd come to a conclusion and shared it with you just the other night... only for you to hit him with information that felt like a punch to the gut.

“Just like love, hate can be incredibly strong. It's also a never-ending cycle. I hurt you. You hurt me. I hurt you." Pom sighed. "You get the point. The curse carries your hate. It has your essence. No matter who you curse, they will always see you before losing their marbles because you were the one who... hurt them."

“Can’t say that’s a good thing or bad thing,” you muttered.

"...There's also something else." Pom put his hands on your shoulders. "Do you remember when we first planned this entire mission? We were prepared for pretty much anything... We didn't think there would be a way to stop it. But... there is. And, you have to be prepared because—"

"I know. Killing me is the only way this curse can ever stop.”

His eyes widened. “You knew? All this time?”

“You say you’re an expert at magic, Pom, but I’m one step ahead this time.”

“How… How did you—”

You snapped your fingers and a book mysteriously materialized in your hand. Pom quickly took it from you as if unable to believe that you had this in your possession all this time.

"The Grimoire of Black Magic?" Pom asked. "This belongs to the Gods. How did you get your hands on this?"

"...I found it. It appeared not long after Young died."

Pom sighed. "Then... I guess the stories are true."

"Stories?"

"The Grimoire tempts those with enough darkness in their hearts to do terrible things and appears in front of those who have the potential to create such powerful magic." Pom looked at you. "I don't know if this is true, but only those who have the potential to become Gods themselves can wield such magic. This book is owned by them, after all."

"...The Gods may own the book, but not all of them are involved in creating it." You took the book from Pom and flipped to the last page. Then, you muttered something, and pages began to materialize. "I doubt they know of all the curses in this book."

Pom had so many questions, but what he wanted to know most was: "You didn't bother telling me this when we first put this plan together?"

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning."

Pom’s jaw almost dropped. “...I don’t know if you’re the one who's gone crazy or if… you’re just not scared to die.”

“...You shouldn’t be scared to die, Pom.” You took his hands and put them at his side. “Because living without a purpose is a fate much worse than death.”

Pom immediately sits up, but before he can let what he just saw sink in, he hears a male voice from the doorway.

"Long time no see, Pom." Pom turns, and his eyes widen. The man smiles. "Looks like you remember me. So flattered."

Pom quickly stands and says the name he hasn't said in centuries. "...Sampo."

Chapter 23

End notes:

I'm the author, and I can't believe what happened in this chapter lol

Also, I never intended this but Pom gives me LGBT vibes. I'm here for it though lmao

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @nqctre @lunavixia @akwardbiscuit @kplatzman @sunsethw4 @hiqhkey @n8mareee

#dan heng x you #honkai dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng #dan heng honkai star rail #honkai star rail dan heng #danheng x y/n #danheng x you #danheng x reader #danheng

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fang-and-feather · 1 month

Text

Star-Crossed Myth - Karno x Reader

Words: 592

Prompt(s): New Beginnings from Flufftober Spring Edition Day 1 at @flufftober

Summary: You never thought this moment would come, and now that it did, you worry Karno only accepted it to make you happy, with the way he seems worried for your future

Tags: Fluff, Slight Alternative Canon, Reader Turned into a Goddess

Just a short something I made to warm back into the fandom. I struggled a bit with the ending but...

I have one more project in development, as well as a few requests I will finally be working on so I will be a little more active in the fandom for a while

Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3

Your first sight when waking up was your boyfriend’s face and the relieved smile he gave you when you woke up.

Karno was sitting on a chair by the bed

“How long was I out for?” You asked, sitting up. It felt like no time at all.

“Four days. I was worried something had gone wrong.”

“Is that even possible?” You laughed.

“Leon said it isn’t, but I would only be able to rest when I saw you were okay by myself. How are you feeling?”

“Weird. And strangely tired.”

“That’s normal for your first few days. You might take some time adjusting.”

Karno moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and you snuggled up to him, only to be caught in a tight embrace.

“You were that worried?” You asked softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“I just missed you. We haven’t spent that long without talking to each other for a while. I forgot how lonely that felt.”

He actually sounded a little embarrassed at the admission that he was feeling lonely, so you hugged him back, chuckling.

“Well, look at it this way. From now on, you’ll never be alone anymore.” You kissed his temple.

Karno sighed and laid down, pulling you almost on top of him.

“Sometimes I worry about what it cost you for this.”

“You agreed to it.” You reminded, gently kissing him. “I thought it was because you trusted me. I knew the consequences of my choice, but you know what I had to sacrifice was small compared to what both of us gained from this.”

Your job was the only thing holding you back on Earth, and it was a small sacrifice to stand by your husband’s side for the rest of time, instead of cursing him with the weight of your death.

“I do trust you. That’s why I didn’t try to convince you not to do this. I knew it was your decision to accept Leon’s offer or not.”

“It wasn’t. It was a decision that affects both of us. That was why I asked you. I already told you not to go along with things because I decided.”

Karno chuckled, caressing your cheek, before pulling you closer for a kiss.

“I didn’t. I really was fine with this change, and that was because you changed me. It was your choice, but if it had happened earlier, I don’t think I would have been able to accept it so easily. I didn’t need you to change for me, but I wasn’t as against the idea as I’ve been. I love you, and it wasn’t only because you were human. You’re the only person I could ever love, no matter what you chose to be.” Karno pulled you completely on top of him this time, giving you a quick kiss. “Now rest, my love.”

He pulled you down to lie down on his chest. You wanted to protest, but your body didn’t respond to your attempts to pull yourself up.

“Are you really going to stay like this?”

“As long as you won’t sleep for another four days.” He chuckled, caressing your hair with one hand, and the other took one of your hands, intertwining your fingers, before he pulled it to kiss the back of your hand. “We’ll have a lot of time together once you adjust.”

As much time as you wanted.

“See you tomorrow, then.” You whispered, tightening your hold on his hand. “I love you.”

You snuggled to him and let sleep claim you.

Tag List: @imhereforscm, @juliettebbgamer

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist

#fluffspring2024 #day 1 #star crossed myth #scm karno #scm #fanfiction #scm fanfic

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wellpresseddaisy · 11 months

Text

I never thought I'd be writing anything with James Potter, but 'what if Potters had an...interesting relationship with death' showed up in my dreams last night.

The soft night air blew in through the windows of the bedroom, moonlight making patterns on the walls. James and Sirius lounged together in the dark, one on each end of the deep window seat. They’d let the curtains down to give themselves more privacy.

Sirius looked curiously at James, his friend uncommonly pale after speaking to his father.

“Dad…he said I could tell you…” James stopped, swallowed, and took a deep breath. “He said with the war coming we should both know. Avada Kedavra doesn’t really work on born Potters.”

“What do you mean ‘Avada Kedavra doesn’t work on born Potters’?!” Sirius swallowed convulsively.

“It just…doesn’t, so much?” James shrugged. “I don’t know why, but it’s sort of like Dreamless Sleep for us. Dad didn’t explain more than that.”

“You’re an absolute eldritch horror, you know that, old thing?” His voice shook a little.

“You tell me that every time I turn into Prongs. I can't help being giant and glowy.”

Sirius snorted. “You’re ridiculous, the whole lot of you. Just…I’ll try to remember. I won’t…I won’t let them bury you, Jamie.”

“A house elf will bring me back here to sleep it off, anyway. There’s one with that job every generation, apparently. But, thank you.”

Sirius just blinked and sighed deeply. What was his life, even?

Somewhere in Northumbria, May 1992

James woke slowly, his body sluggishly returning to the land of the living. He stretched and rolled to his side…

And thumped painfully onto the floor.

Lily. Harry.

He had to…where…

He looked up and froze. The ceiling of the chapel soared above him. He had lain on a low plinth before the altar, just as Dad said he might…how many years ago?

“An elf of House Potter. I need an elf.” His voice croaked, but he forced the words out.

“Master Jamie is awake!” One of the elves (he thought it might be Horace) popped in.

“What year is it? Where is Harry? Lily?”

“It is nineteen-ninety-two, Master Jamie. Miss Lily did not survive that night. The elves…the elves do not know where little Master Harry is. The Ministry took him.”

James pulled himself up, disused muscles screaming in protest, and tottered toward the doors.

“Master Jamie, what is you doing?” Horace scolded, shocked into forgetting his grammar.

“I have to get to the Warder's Tower.” He gritted it out, hanging onto whatever came to hand to stay upright. “I never took the ring. I must, immediately.”

“Mister Potter’s portrait ordered us on war footing.” Horace squeaked. “Master Jamie must rest!” He pulled his ears in distress.

“I’ll rest once my son is secure, with me.” Would his useless legs work?

“The others didn’t know of the…the not dying. Master Jamie has a headstone.”

“They think I’m dead?!” He turned so quickly he almost went arse over teakettle. “What about Sirius? He knew.”

“Master Sirius…he is being in Azkaban. For murdering Pettigrew with a blasting curse.” Horace tried to keep up with James, scuttling next to him.

Damn the previous Potters for warding the towers against elves.

“With a single curse?”

“Just one, Horace heard.”

“That isn’t right. Sirius always cast double—one underpowered as a warning and then an overpowered. He never cast a single blasting curse in his life.” The problem of Sirius gave him something to chew on beside his shaking body.

He fought for every step down the long, curving interior corridor to the entry hall. The doors opened at his touch and he lurched down the path to the tower. Eleven years he’d lain there, clawing his way back from death, while Merlin knew what happened outside the walls. First, though, first he needed to accept the family Headship.

Stupid of him not to have done it sooner…but he supposed everyone behaved stupidly at twenty-one. He’d certainly participated in a parade of idiocy that lasted up to his brush with death.

Honestly, he sort of wondered what Lily even saw in him. Perhaps she saw the potential for change? He would, now. He’d have to. The responsibility of it — the Potter Headship and the paterfamilias — weighed on him as he scrabbled the last few feet to the door of the Warder’s Tower.

He shouldered it open, breath ragged in his lungs, and made for the trapdoor he knew existed at the back corner of the tower. Once, they used it as an escape route. Now, it served a much different purpose.

He'd dreamed, once, of his descent into the Ward Room, of that moment when he proved himself capable of leading the family. His dream never included both his parents dead, Lily gone, and Harry and Sirius lost to him. He thought it would be a joyous day, not one where he only made it down the ladder through sheer determination, where the loss of his family ached in his bones.

He dropped to the floor, finally, and leaned against the wall for a moment. The dark pressed in on him, whispers and shuffling just at the edge of his hearing. He breathed the cold, slightly stale air and steeled himself for what came next. He pushed off the wall and walked forward, closing his eyes and tuning himself to his own magic. It guided him where he needed to go, through the warren of escape route and basement. Down and down he went, deep into the earth and deep into the family magic. Those who went before plucked at his sleeves and whispered, trying to draw him away from the path, but he closed his ears to them.

He knew when he arrived by the utter lack of sound. He felt it, seeping into him as he slowly found the center of the cavern. He stood, content to wait for the moment, and knew the precise moment he was judged. Still, he waited, not speaking and barely breathing. He’d been dead for eleven years, what was an hour or so? He would wait as long as need be.

“Son Potter and Peverell, do you come here to be judged?”

The voice came out of the dark, from all sides.

“I do so come.” James answered clearly

“Do you seek to lead your House, to be a sanctuary to those in need, and to be a light in dark places? The Potter of Peverell has always walked paths others feared. Will you walk where you must?”

“I do. I will.”

“You who have been touched by Death, will you hold close the secrets of this House?”

“None shall hear them from me.”

The magic in the place deepened. His breath caught in his throat at the upswell bearing down on him. He would not buckle, not when he’d come so far. He would face whatever lurked in the dark, would face his own past, but he would not fall to his knees.

The pressure changed and his ears popped. Magic whipped into a gale, but still he stood firm. Slowly, a bright pinpoint of light overtook the wind, whirling into a blinding maelstrom. James squeezed his eyes closed against the light even as it felt like it seared straight through his eyelids.

The pressure coalesced about his hand, them his finger. Slowly, the light died down, but the weight remained about his hand. He looked down to see the Potter ring still gleaming on his finger.

Of course it would be made of pure magic. Sirius was right. His entire family was one giant eldritch horror.

“We who walk with Death as an old friend judge you able.”

Two items clattered against his feet…one heavier and larger and one smaller.

“Take the gifts of your ancestors as you walk the third path. The way will be steep and the climb dark, but we will see you succeed.”

He crouched down and felt first a…hilt? A sword? And then the smooth, polished wood of a wand. The magic of his family, of Potter and Peverell, swirled about him as soon as he gripped the wand. He felt himself open to it, reveling in the feeling of Family.

“Go now, child of our house. You are needed.”

A door opened across the cavern and James made his way to it as quickly as he could. Once through, the door closed behind him. Only then did he slide to the ground, exhaustion overcoming all else.

#and prongs really is very large and very glowy #think an extra large patronus but solid #the potter family is a bunch of eldritch horrors in a trench coat

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hiding-in-the-vault · 2 years

Note

hello vault beloved can i ask if you maybe have any thoughts about forest spirit dream? i miss him </3

Anything for you kiuda beloved <3

I have many thoughts about him. I should probably write more out in general since I haven’t had time to draw much. Enjoy my rambling which quickly turned into a pseudo-fic lol

It was winter when Dream was captured. Early winter- the air was cold, the ground was dry and not yet coated in snow, some brittle leaves still clinging to the trees. None of it would stop the fires from tearing through the heart of his home. This wouldn’t have been the first time his arms were tied behind his back with a net tangling around his antlers, but it was the first he was too drained to break free.

It was spring when he was rescued, some years later. He doesn’t remember most of it, when Techno carried him across mountains until they reached a large, unfamiliar forest. Dream woke up by a small spring. Crystal clear water, life all around, and a tiny sapling growing next to him. It would take years, decades, to grow on its own. But he would give what little magic he could offer to this sapling, to the entire forest, and he will protect it as it will protect him.

Techno was still there, bringing him food, making sure he was okay, but he only stayed for a few days. Techno still had a job to do, after all. (And was only slightly concerned for his new human friend Phil, since they are so prone to getting into danger.) Dream was sad to see him go, but made him promise to visit soon.

So Dream stayed by that spring, alone, and he rest.

It had been years since he’s been able to connect with a forest. Years since he’s felt a warm breeze or felt his fingers run through grass. He thinks maybe he forgot how to create that bond, but it’s a natural thing. The trees and flowers and vines reach for him as desperately as he reaches for them.

He slowly regained his energy, some scars fade, but his antlers still won’t grow back right and there’s still a brand burnt into his skin.

001.

Dream hates it. He can’t bear to look at it for long, before tearing his eyes away from his own arm with a grimace. Not only is it downright embarrassing for a spirit to be caught and marked by humans, but he was the first of that particular operation. The inspiration that caused many others to end up just like him: numbered and abused.

Techno told Dream that he planned to free them all. He hadn’t known Techno for long, but felt inclined to believe he’ll succeed.

Years pass. The sapling had grown and Dream had recovered physically, though his distrust for humans only grows as towns get built along the outskirts of his territory. He can’t chase them away; humans play their own role in nature as well, when they’re not being blinded by greed. But he scares away the curious few from wandering too close.

Eventually, Techno does visit again. It took much longer than Dream would have liked, but “soon” doesn’t mean much when they’re nearly immortal. He planned to only complain a little bit when he sensed Techno approach the heart of the forest, but his plans were cut short when he actually saw the other spirit.

He looked exhausted. And sad. When asked, Techno kept it short; his human friend passed, apparently. They had been traveling together since they met, rescuing spirits and something about destroying tyrannical governments. He wasn't speaking in his usual controlled enthusiasm, and said he’d talk more after a nap, and promptly fell asleep by the spring.

That nap lasted several years.

The area around the spring stays warm year-round due to the magic™️, and Dream checked on him frequently, though he was certain there was no safer place; even the animals stayed away when Dream wanted them to.

He figured a roaming spirit like Techno would need to take long rests, although the mourning probably played a factor as well. But he didn’t mind. Dream was glad his friend trusted him enough to keep an eye out while he hibernated. (Even though he didn’t understand the sentimentality for a human.)

Inevitably, hunters discovered what Dream was again and sought him out, now that the properties of spirits were more well known. Dream was too careless last time he was discovered, and he wouldn’t let his past mistakes repeat.

#forest spirit dream au #dreblr #vault writes

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brick-a-doodle-do · 2 years

Text

Wow these wait times keep getting shorter and shorter. Is this a bad thing? Who knows :D What I do know, is that this chapter is messy and it’s nearly four am and I speedran the whole thing so hopefully it isn’t too bad- (I still will make updates to this if I see any typos while rereading 👍)

Another pretty slow chapter, but it’s still content!! :] That being said something will happen next chapter that’ll bring some excitement into the story sjdjfnfn

ALSOO, everyone give a thank you to XYZ for helping me with this chapter and also giving me ideas for the AU name (Something’s brewing,, haha get it? Tommy’s brewing a plan and Wilbur’s brewing potions?)

Not read over. All the typos and inconsistencies you see do not exist and you are imagining things. /j

Curiosity Killed The Cat (3)

_ WC: 2.1k

_ TW: Swearing, mention of death, vore, torture, poison, dehumanization (none uhappen and it is Tommy’s interpretation of the situation)

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It’s settled.

If he can’t get out on his own without Wilbur’s ‘permission,’ then he will do the next best thing and earn the trust of said giant. It will take time, however it’s time for a finished product that will end in his freedom. That is if he executes it well enough.

Trust… won’t be easy. There’s a high chance Wilbur is deadly smart, and even then, if he somehow manages to get out, he needs to be subtle and do everything slowly without drawing attention to himself.

After that he fucking leaves, quits his job, and hopes to Prime that he’ll never have to step foot on the sidewalk that walks across the length of the house. Of course that’s assuming Wilbur won’t also have a backup plan. It’s a shot in the dark but it’s one he’s definitely willing to take.

Tommy settles against the glass jar, eyes closed in an attempt to get rest. Even with knowing this poor of a dream would have woken him by now while he was still on the edge of suspense, he still clung to the hope he’d wake up in his room, Techno banging on the door to take him to school after his alarm failed him.

Alarm. Phone.

Tommy patted himself despite knowing it was dead anyway. It was dead out of the blue which means there’s a slight possibility it will still work. Only if he’s lucky, and if he’s being honest, he does not feel lucky.

His hoodie and jean pockets were empty. An unsettling feeling of knowing he was in the hands of a giant at one point twisted inside of him when he spotted it just slightly outside of the jar, almost like it was taunting him.

It obviously has been placed there for that intended reason.

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head and holding it in his hands. Wilbur had gone somewhere a while ago. Something about food is what he thinks the man was talking about, but he was too caught up in his thoughts to truly register anything he was saying.

He couldn’t hear anything outside of the glass unless they were close, so, unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to focus in on anything, it still didn’t work. Tommy groaned, fist hitting the ‘floor’ underneath him. He looked up as he sloped down against the wall further, nearly laying completely flat by the time he’d stopped.

Huh, Wilbur was generous enough to leave air holes in the lid. Like a spider or some other exotic bug a child finds and captures. His eyes are heavy when he falls asleep looking at the copper ceiling of his prison.

—

Tommy woke up to harsh footsteps, a sound he’s become semi-acquainted with in his… well, he doesn’t know how long he’s been here.

Wilbur was sitting at the desk with a plate in front of him when Tommy was alert enough to finally sit up. He stood near the glass, itching to have whatever Wilbur had on his plate. He hid his hunger with folded arms and a fake expression that resembled something of anger. However the giant still noticed his curiosity. “Do you want some? Or I could make you something else,” Wilbur offered, a faint yet visible smile going along the side. “Uh.. no, I don’t want anything. You’ve probably poisoned it.” He scoffed, biting his lip awkwardly. “It’s not poisoned.” Wilbur said, a little offended. Tommy considered if he fucked it up but Wilbur just returned to eating. He still was tense.

Tommy wanted to take his eyes away from the plate of pasta and what looked to be chicken, but each time he managed to find something to look at he just was brought back because of movement out of the corner of his eyes.

Unfortunately Wilbur had to notice. “…Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“Water!” He blurted against his own will. “Sorry- uh.. Water?” He tried again, noticing his dry throat now that his mind was on it. He swallowed and was left with a stingy taste that he somehow hadn’t managed to notice before. Wilbur looked at him for a moment, his heart skipping a beat as he wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. It didn’t seem like it would be.. Wilbur had asked for it, after all.

He stepped back, his breathing going obscure after Wilbur still didn’t look away. The giant shook his head and stood. “Sorry- I’ll be back. With the water.”

Tommy furrowed his brows but nodded. Wilbur was either up to something or weirdly socially awkward, and, if he’s being honest, it’s the first one. He’d probably add drug shit to the water or put some potion in it to make him die or pass out so he can.. do something to him. Something ending in his death.

He looked at his phone again, wondering if maybe he didn’t try to use it, it’d still work. At least then if he ever managed to get out he’d have some way of telling someone he needed help. Maybe if he knocks the glass over he could shatter it somehow. He scoffed at that, running a hand through his hair again in stress.

His eyes found themselves on the food again, and despite it being his exact height, if not taller, he still craved it. He craved anything to eat, even if it was just a potion of the noodle. He frowned.

Tommy sat again in wait for Wilbur. He swallowed again, debating whether or not he’a actually going to accept the water. He’d rather die now than spend days if not weeks in a jar, but he still wants to try and see if his plan can work.

He should be hydrated for that though.

This is a stupidly hard decision. Die or live with the risk of potentially ending back in this stupid jar with absolutely no freedom?

The risk wouldn’t be too big. The second part of his plan would be a bit easier. It includes bringing the trust even further to letting Wilbur let him take a potion so he can go to a ‘normal’ size, which technically would be giant size. There’s always the wonder if that type of potion exists somewhere in Wilbur’s house. It should, if he’s that size, but who knows. It’s another shot in the dark that he’s willing to take. After he changes to a normal size, he’ll try to get his hands on a shrinkage potion and switch the roles of him and Wilbur so he leaves the now-tiny in a jar and gets the fuck out of this stupid house.

He really hopes this works because if it doesn’t, he’s completely, royally fucked and is served a life sentence in a jar for the rest of his life with a side of embarrassment on a golden platter.

His stomach turned in hunger and his chest pulled in nerve of all the things that could go wrong. He wondered if he really could do this.. it seemed like such a foolproof plan when he had decided upon it, but now he’s just… doubtful.

Whatever, he shouldn’t be spending time worrying about what will go wrong.

Wilbur came back down the stairs to the basement quickly, something small and red in his hand. Tommy focused on it but his hand was shaking from the movement and he didn’t get a good look at it until the giant was slowing his pace as he approached the desk with Tommy on it. When the tiny red object was set on the desk beside his phone, Tommy’s brows once again furrowed as he studied the small thing that he now could see was a coke can. A small, tiny sized one for him.

What?

It confirms one of his spiraling thoughts but it’s still a shock to see Wilbur took the time to make something that he didn’t even ask for small for his benefit. Tommy looked up at Wilbur curiously, the man’s eyes however didn’t look down at him.

A slight shadow cast over the jar as Wilbur placed his hand against the jar for support, startling Tommy into a yelp while he struggled to scramble away. The sheer size of it up close was nothing like he’d expected. He was unfortunately brought into more panic at the sound of the lid unscrewing. The jar tilted when the top popped off. Tilted.

Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit he’s not seriously going to be grabbed right now, is he? He kept his back against the bottom of the jar now that it had been tilted almost fully to its side. He considered running but quickly shut the thought down when he realized how utterly stupid that was.

Too caught up in what-if’s, he hadn’t noticed Wilbur talking to him until he lightly tapped on the glass with his finger. “Fuck!” He cried out, again shifting to a different area to avoid whatever was happening. Wilbur couldn’t reach him through the top of the jar yet it still worried him to know what could happen if he was out.

“Tommy, Tommy calm down.” Wilbur set the jar fully down and Tommy shifted just slightly. The giant put his hands up as if he’d been arrested, a slight look of guilt on his face. “It’s alright, Tommy. It’s just a drink, see?” He reached and carefully gripped the small can between his forefinger and thumb. He nodded, struggling to keep his breathing even. He was fine, nothing was going to get him, he’s as safe as he can be, it’s fine.

He should start paying attention more, because he jumped at the feeling of something against his leg. He looked down to find the source. He picked the red van up, turning it over as if it wasn’t real. It looked normal.

He looked up at Wilbur. “See? Everything is fine, Tommy. May I put the jar back up? Or we can keep it down.”

He laughed perhaps a bit hysterically. It came out more as quieted huffs, but it was still the closest thing to actually gotten to being amused during these unfortunate, fucked up times. A giant was actually wanting his preference to things so he could be more comfortable. He brought him a soda after he’d asked for water. He even took the time to make said soda smaller. For him.

And yet he still found himself in a jar.

A friendly kidnapping.

“Tommy.” Looks like he wanted a response. He shrugged and set the can in his pocket so he could decide on actually drinking it later. Actually, perhaps he did have a preference. Keeping the jar on its side would mean he can roll it to where it shatters on the floor. But, then again, he’d just be sitting in a pile of broken glass and probably pass out from the height. On second thought, maybe he didn’t need to grab at every opportunity he saw. He really needs to learn to think before he does, because it could’ve saved him from everything that’s happened so far. He let the devil on his shoulder win, and, here he is, locked in a jar with a giant who seems just slightly insane.

“Up.” He says finally, ignoring the urge to keep it down. Wilbur was a smart man, anyway. He probably won’t get very far.

Wilbur nods and screws the lid back on, sealing his last chance of quick freedom away. Now it’s back to his original plan.

The giant was surprisingly careful while handling the jar, probably just to keep him in tact so whatever he plans to do to him will be the only pain he feels.

He tumbled only slightly when he was finally set back to his original position, but he rushed to correct it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot.

“Thank you. For the drink and shit. Even if it is poisoned.”

Wilbur hummed in response, a slight, startled laugh escaping him. “You’re positive you don’t want anything else? Whatever you need I can make.”

That’s bullshit. “Except for my freedom, yeah?” He looked up with a sarcastic smile. “Uh… yeah.”

Tommy scoffed again and slid against the back of the jar. “Then, yeah, I’m positive.” He said in a tone of fake friendliness and bitter hatred.

Wilbur nodded once, that look of guilt still on his face from before. The act was stupid by now, but it was funny to see his efforts, so hey, it’s slightly worth it. The giant returned to his seat at the desk returning his attention to his dinner. Tommy still side-eyed it but as he hesitantly cracked open the coke and a fizz and slight gush of foam came out, he took a small sip, then another, and by the time he’d become convinced it hadn’t been messed with, he let himself forget about his hunger.

Just for now, though. He’s still fucking starving.

----------------------------------------------------chapter four

#woah part three :0 #our special little wizard boy gives tommy some coke. that’s the entire chapter basically. :D how is it 2k words? who knows #curiosity killed the cat #brickfic #mw #g/t #dream smp g/t #mcyt g/t #t!tommy #g!wilbur #so sorry it’s messy and long and drawn out this was done wayyyy to quick #something’s brewing au #xyz my beloved thank you so much for the help 😊#also you all are so doubtful of tommy and his plan i love it sidfjjfnf

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robthewriter · 1 year

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Doctor Who Showrunner says, “modern woke writers are rubbish and they eat tofu and pretend to like it!” shock! horror!

The following is from my blog on my website/Goodreads...

Doctor Who Showrunner says, “modern woke writers are rubbish and they eat tofu and pretend to like it!” shock! horror!

Well, that, or something like it, was apparently said by Russell T Davies recently, at least according to certain sections of the media anyway.

Incoming Doctor Who showrunner Russell T Davies, or RTD as he is generally known for short, is back to helm Doctor Who for the second time. He was the guy who resurrected the series back in 2005 after a long spell in the televisual wilderness.

It seems, however, that he is of the opinion that all new, young writers are boring, woke incompetents, who can’t write for tofu (no, that’s not a spelling mistake).

Or is he? Is that what he actually, said? Even if it was, was that what he really meant?

So, what did he say? The following is the quote in question, which comes from an interview with RTD and fellow writer Mark Gatiss in the Sunday Times…

“I do a lot of mentoring, and there are voices wanting to be heard — of any gender or ethnicity — who consider themselves invisible. They hate the media that ignores them, and they’re trapped into wanting a job in that medium purely to increase representation. I read their scripts and they’re rubbish. They don’t actually love television, so they don’t know how to write for it.”

Gatiss added…

“I’m so glad you said that. Sometimes I think I’m like Pollyanna because I’ve met so many people over the years who hate making television. It seems to make them so miserable. Go and work on the bins or something. It’s hard work — it gives you ulcers — so you have to love it.”

OK, so you could interpret that as, “RTD says all young writers are woke, angry and incompetent.” You could…

Or, he could be saying, these people got into writing for television for all the wrong reasons. To be clear, that’s not me saying that the causes that they are fighting for are wrong, I’m sure they are not, I’m sure they are all angry with good reason. No, I mean that getting into writing for television because you have an axe to grind and you think it will make a good whetstone, is a bad idea.

I am going to broaden this out in fact, I am going to say, that getting into any kind of writing, for television or otherwise, should be done for only one reason. Because you love it, because you want and need to do it.

Don’t go into it for fame, or money, or even because you have a noble cause to shout about. Do it for its own sake.

Here’s the thing. There are literally millions of talented people in the world who can write. Many, many, of them will be better than you, thousands and thousands will be just as good as you and yes some won’t be as good. Any, or all of these people may also have another edge. They may have had exciting, eventful lives, or have top qualifications in some allied field that gives them a reputation to build on. They may just be better connected and all of them, potentially, might just be luckier than you.

Your chances of success are really, low. Sorry, just telling you like it is. That’s not a reason not to try and just like the lottery, you have to be in it to win it. I am not trying to put anyone off, it’s an adventure, go for it. However, let me just refer you back to the gist of that quote from Mark Gatiss. You have, to love it. If you don’t love it, don’t do it.

There is another point here and it can be inferred from the same quote. I don’t know about writing for TV I have never tried it… looking at my sales figures, you might well argue that I don’t know much about writing at all. (yes, that was a short, bitter laugh you just heard). That aside, let me make another statement…

If no one is listening, all words have equal value.

The most profound statement ever written and a ‘dad joke,’ are identical if no one hears them. There has, to be an audience. Extending that, if you are trying to make a point or right a wrong, it must be the right audience. Not your friends and peer groups who already know what you are saying. No, you need the people who are unaware of you and your story. Otherwise, you are still talking to yourself.

Those writers that RTD mentioned need to love writing and the medium in which they are working. They need to understand it, its power and its limitations. If they want to reach the audience they need to reach and not just shout angrily into the echo chamber, they have to learn their craft. They have to love it.

I think RTD has stated elsewhere, in reference to TV budgets, that any television, even something quite modest, costs millions to bring to the screen in the modern world, where Netflix, Disney and Amazon have raised the bar so high. If someone is going to trust you with millions, you had better know what you are doing.

You are not writing for your friends; you are writing for strangers. You have to write characters they will care about and root for, or they won’t come on the journey with you. You have to entertain as well as preach. Never underestimate the power of humour too. Because a story is grim, doesn’t mean you have to tell it in a relentlessly grim way. If you do, there is a good chance you will lose half your audience. Some people love grimdark misery porn but most need a little balance.

Some may find it unpalatable but here is the truth…

You can tell a bad story well and launch a franchise. You can tell a good story badly and sink the ship.

Happy sailing folks…

#dr who #doctor who #russell t davies #mark gatiss #interview #controversy #woke writers #writing #creative writing #blog #author #sci-fi #fantasy

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year

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Do you think yhe Terry face mask makes a difference? Also what are your current fave beauty products if you don't mind💞

I mean—your milage may vary, but when I woke up this morning my skin was a little plumper and more hydrated than usual (which is what I buy the masks for!) so, sure! BUT!!! It’s a pricey mask ($29 AUD), so I only buy them occasionally, for a little pampering (or to pregame an event!)! I really like sheet masks in general because they make a mundane routine (cleaning your face) more fun, but most of the time I buy Korean ones, which are way cheaper and just as (if not more!) effective! My skin concerns might be different to yours, but I buy masks to address one of several problems:

1. I’m having a breakout, and need my skin to calm the fuck down (teatree, generally, something that feels antiseptic)

2. I’m having a reaction, and need my skin to calm the fuck down (ingredients that will soothe it, cool down the redness!)

3. I’m tired and feel dry (so, something that feels nourishing or at least gives me an excuse to go lie down in a dark room and pretend I’m in a coffin for 15 minutes)

I don’t worry about anti-aging promises, or anything like that—sunscreen is the only thing I use that might even address that, and even then that’s less “anti-aging” and more “holy shit I don’t want the face doctor to dig cancer spots out of my face” LOL. As a whole I hate the whole, “omg you HAVE to prevent any visible signs of aging!!! don’t smile, don’t frown, don’t use your skin!!!” rhetoric that skincare and beauty in general markets itself off of. Fear mongering!!! A few lines and squiggles and saggy bits and pocks and divets make us interesting and human and idk—we’re lucky we get to age. 🥺

I use eye patches mostly for psychological reasons lmfao—like when I’ve been staring at a screen for too hard and too long. I have deep-set eye bags that aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so I don’t bother with anything that claims much more than just “it’ll feel nice for a few minutes” lmaooo. The Patchology Rosé ones were a impulse buy, but they were fun!

After I saw your ask, though, I went and rummaged around in my drawers—I’m going to stay clear of anything too skincare-y, because YMMV, and I won’t include perfumes for the same reason, but after some thought, here’s my current faves:

From left-to-right, top-to-bottom!

1. Jurlique Rose Moisture Plus Moisturising Cream Mask

2. Cancer Council Face Day Wear SPF50+ Serum (Sunscreen!)

3. Chantecaille Cheek Gelée Blush (I wear Vibrant! I’m also a big fan of their skincare range—I just repurchased the Hibiscus Smoothing Mask, it’s an exfoliator!)

4. Chanel Joues Contraste Powder Blush + Les Beiges Healthy Glow Foundation (I have Orchid Rose, in the blush, and the foundation is a light-to-medium coverage!)

5. Hourglass Veil Translucent Setting Powder

6. Shiseido ColourGel Lip Balm (the colour I have is Redwood! It’s orangey on me. Their eyeshadows are fun to play with and come in single pans, but I got into Shiseido because of their toner! I actually have a complimentary service at Mecca Cosmetica that I need to use—I normally just let them slide away bc I like doing my own makeup LOL, but the girl serving me in-store on Friday was like, “nooo, you should use it! We can play with the Shiseido stuff!” so I was like okeee LOL fml im so easily led it’s not funny 😭)

7. Tatcha The Silk Canvas Primer (it’s novel to play with lmaooo, but it does a decent job! I like how it smells! I originally wanted the ELF putty—but every Kmart I went to was sold out, and a friend was like, oh, that’s a dupe for the Tatcha one so I was like, oke, lmaooo)

8. Caudalíe Grape Water Face Mist (Caudalíe is fun and I love the scent, but be wary of overpaying for it lmfao. I think people see French brands and are like ooooo, so fancy, but it’s basically a pharmacy brand! A great one, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re buying it for like three times the price then just—don’t, LOL. I bought the Grape Water on impulse from Sephora, because I needed a new face spray—but tbh unless you’re like, in France for a bit and walk past a store or a Citypharma then there are other, more easily accessible brands!!! Saying that, I live by their hand cream—it smells like sherbet and it’s such a delight to put on!! i like to give myself lil hand massages when I use it and i’m almost out and im going to be DEVASTATED when it’s gone. 🥹)

I haven’t listed any eye-products because I’m trying to find a mascara that doesn’t try to murder me while driving by stinging my eyes and smearing everywhere and then making the stinging worse which makes me tear up while I’m flying down the goddamn highway—but eyeshadow wise, I only have a couple of palettes, and a few single-pan shades! I have a Pat McGrath Mothership palette (Mothership II, sublime), which is my absolute favourite. And a Chanel quad, which is nice and portable! And then I impulse bought the Huda Rose Quartz palette last year, literally days before I sprained my ankle and ruined my life. I haven’t had much of a chance to wear it since! The colours are very dreamy—shimmery lavenders and pinks and I like the romance of the idea of wearing them, but—oh my God I just gave myself an idea for something. Maybe an anime boyfriend smearing our shimmery eyeshadow with his thumb??? hmmm hmm.

#ofmermaidstories-asks #passion for fashion: the dress-up tag

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crapmagak · 2 years

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Engage Drip Marketing: Clan

Whelp, looks like we’re getting characters every Thursday and Friday. It may not seem like a lot, but we have around 17 weeks until this game comes out, so potentially over thirty characters will be revealed. Not only that, but there will probably be surprise recruits that won’t be spoiled by drip marketing.

Today, we finally learn the name of the male twin… Kind of. These are ultimately shaky translations of the japanese name. Still, gotta call him something, and Clan seems to be the most common interpretation I’m seeing.

Translations of the first tweet goes...

Clan is a 33rd generation "Dragon Guardian", protecting the Divine Dragon in the Holy Land of Lithos. He defends Alear together with Vander. Is the twin brother of Flan, and was beside Alear when they woke up. A gentle boy, he takes care of Alear as part of his job but is also a fan of them.

The personality tweet goes…

Clan's self-introduction. A young boy with a kind air about him. His hair is braided on the opposite side of Flan's.

The dialogue is…

Clan: "Sorry, I was so shocked earlier that I didn't even introduce myself... I'm a 33rd generation Dragon Guardian, Clan. Pleased to meet you."

Note: All of these translations were kindly done by twitter user SatsumaFS

So, all in all, Clan seems to be what was on the box. Such things are to be expected from a character featured heavily in the trailer. Still, nice, soft boy characters are always pretty appealing. Him being in the 33rd generation of Dragon Guardians is interesting though, I guess because when Engage comes out it’ll be around 33 years since the first game. This also confirms that Vander is only a generation above the rest of the cast making him a dilf rather than a gilf. This is important information. Trust me.

Another thing I’d like to get into is that in the trailers, we can see that Clan has an engage form with Micaiah. He’s shown with it in a chapter where the playable characters are level 9, and the enemies are level 11. Pretty soon, all things considered. So, there will likely be a map or two where Clan has a lot of story relevance. I’m curious to see how that all ends up shaking out.

Now, as for his class tweet and clip…

Clan's starting class is Mage. Fires magic using tomes, good for hitting enemies that are far away or armored.

It’s confirmed Clan is a basic mage, but it’s neet to get one so early. I am curious about how mages will shake out in these games. Tomes have no class advantage, so it seems we’re relying on the classic “only five classes have magic resistance worth a damn” balancing act. But, considering Clan also has a wind tome in his inventory, I’m curious. Will mages be like in the gba games, where anima magic scales from Fire < Thunder < Elfire and so on. Or will it be like awakening where fire, wind, and thunder tomes each have their own divisions of and ranks? In awakening, fire magic felt kind of useless, not as fast or good at taking out flying units like wind, nor as strong and crit happy like thunder. Still, I guess that’s something that's yet to be seen.

Also, I think the mage’s crit animations are definitely benefiting from the new crit format. In the past, their crit animations have always been a bit lackluster compared to those with weapons. The reasons are obvious, the action and motion lies in the spells themselves, and you can’t make a new crit animation for every spell. Getting a close up shot of the mage, seeing them surround themselves in spectral pages, really manages to sell them charging power, though. Perhaps when we see sages and sorcerers, we’ll get to see them do stuff like float as they charge too.

As for the map itself, we have a lot to chew on. It’s pretty big in comparison to the others, and it’s one we saw briefly in the first trailer, when Framme was showing off her martial arts moves. Now that we see the map, we have a bit more context.

First, Clan is level 4 at the start, and characters like Chloe and Louis are already in the starting positions, meaning this map likely takes place right after the windmill chapter that was heavily showcased in the trailer. The area seems to be a castle of sorts, perhaps even the one showcased on the map. We see blue banners along the walls, with five petaled flowers depicted. From a story perspective, it’s likely that Elusian forces have captured the Firenesse castle, and it’s up to our heroes to recapture it. Still, I’m rather surprised we’re already doing something like this so soon.

The map itself is divided into three sections. We have the main stairs at the bottom, where our heroes start. In the upper left, we have a path leading to a treasure vault. To the upper right, we have a throne room. It seems that door keys, chests, and breakable walls will return in Engage, and this is the chapter where they’re introduced. There's also some conscious enemy placement, like having a group of fighters next to a group of myrmidons, so the player has to be careful with their spear fighters. All in all, seems like a fun time.

As for story predictions, it’s likely that after Lythos is invaded, our heroes are transported to Firenesse, and in a vision, the little girl who’s obviously the divine dragon gives Alear their quest (find the twelve rings, stop the fell dragon). Our heroes then run into Alfred and Celine, along with their likely retainers. Then they come across a group of corrupted attacking a village, and two Firenesse soldiers (Chloe and Louis) need their help. Once the chapter’s over, our heroes learn that the Elusians are invading, and our heroes head out to recapture the capital.

Again, I’m kind of surprised at such a fast plot progression. Hopefully this means we’re in for a dense story, and not a short one.

#Clan #fire emblem engage #fire emblem #name subject to change

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