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unabashednightmarepizza · 5 months

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Imagine Neuvillette having a cheeky lover, who just enjoys his reactions and lives for making him loose his cool.

He was just so damn cool and powerful, a power to beckon with. Neuvillette was a strong pillar of Fontaine, a protector many looked up to. Even with his stone cold face that didn't give anything away at first glance and caused many men and women's heart to throb, you knew for the better.

Neuvillette was indeed a cutie whenever he got embrassed from your ministrations and hid his red face from all world, mainly you, whenever he had a chance.

This time wasn't any exception as Neuvillette was huddled inside his office, doing paperwork. One might think that this was what he liked doing most of the times by how almost a pleasant face he wore and frequent it was becoming.

But he couldn't have been more bored than he was right at this moment.

As he wrote down his notes and signed the documents, he couldn't help but think back to how lovely and absolutely breathtaking you looked at the morning.

As the true being he was, The Hydro Dragon... who opened up his heart and soul for you to embrace, who was accepted as who he is without a question.

The sunlight was slowly hitting your body and face just in the right way while you laid on his bed peacefully, chest rising up and down with one arm tucked under the soft pillow and the other curled next to your chest. A soft and small smile was on your lips, lightening up his dimmed soul as you laid facing him, making him be able to trace the soft contours of your face with his clawed hand, hair blanketing his scaled torso and your arms...

And how easy it was for you to accept him, as if it was second nature.

Thanks to how he and his kind was perceived, cold and harsh with no care for humans, he had deprieved of himself the beauty of touch. He refused to have that when he didn't deserve love, in his opinion.

How could someone even love a creature like him? Powerless, thought to be dead and even weak but still a danger nonetheless... Who could stay for him in his toughest times when even he didn't understand what he was feeling or thinking?

Therefore, he devoted himself to a long and eternal life of solidarity. He was fully convinced that this was all he could get, and even he was shocked at how the human mind can easily overpower their own self.

Another magnificient mystery of the universe, he would often say and think to himself at the dead of the night while staring into his own reflection and long tail.

Well, these were all before you came and broke everything he thought was right.

Quite literally actually.

"Monsieur Neuvillette, I'm so sorry! I wasn't actually looking where I was going-" you hurriedly tried to gather all the paper that fell on the marble floor from the hands of none other than Neuvillette, the Chief Justice. You absolutely hated, even loathed being in a hurry. It always made you loose track of what you did or said, which resulted in chaos and a life time of embarrassment.

Such as right now.

"It's quite alright, dear Y/N... Are you okay?'" As the gentleman he is, Neuvillette only gave you a worried look, also bending down to help you and prevent you from piercing your knees from the glass shards on the ground as a result of you two's collision. You didn't even realise the glasses you were holding was indeed broken, too occupied with making sure he was okay and not to loose your mind by how much more handsome he looked up close-

"Am-Am I okay? Monsieur, I dropped almost all the cups on you- Oh my! Are you hurt anywhere? Are you bleeding? Come, we need to immediately look for any injury, one of the shards could have pierced you!"

Just as he was about to tell you that it was fine, you didn't have to worry so much, enough to come close to crying and he wasn't hurt at all, a shard pierced his finger through his gloves, making him hiss and almost jump away from you...

Whiiich resulted in a horrified reaction from you.

"Oh the Archons... I'm gonna die. Please hurry, let me treat them!" You mumbled in a daze, quickly pulling yourself together as you took a hold of his hand and made him sit down on one of the chairs outside his office, as if he would faint from a simple scratch. All the while, Neuvillette was in a deep shock at how things turned out as he sat there with his palm facing up, staring at you as only a wisp of your form was visible to eye by how fast you were moving.

He didn't understand why you, even if he had a "crush" on you for the longest time as Furina and Navia often told him, would dote on him and openly show worry. He was a strong individual, apart from being the literal Hydro Sovereign who had all of his powers back, and he definetly didn't need to be coddled like a little kid even if you two were getting closer and closer each day-

"This might sting a bit, but I'll try to be gentle..." You frowned sadly as if the thought alone was enough to make you cry, already feeling bad enough for possibly ruining his busy day with your clumsiness.

And his expressionless face as he stared up at you did nothing to help your nerves.

Neuvillette could feel his gaze on you had become softer, much more gentle as he gazed at your careful hands more. The feeling was foreign to him but not unwelcomed, the pleasant and soft warmth in his heart pulled a small smile out of him which was a rarity by itself. Many would argue that he never smiled or showed any emotions, a man unmoveable and cold as the highest peak of Liyue itself...

Well, you begged to differ right at this moment.

"Why do you care about me so much?" He didn't really mean to sound so rude and harsh with his question, but it was the affect of being by himself all these time, with having only himself to care and patch his wounds.

Even as small as a scratch like the one on his finger.

But it seemed his tone didn't really scare you, as a confused look settled upon your face, brows scrunched together and head tilted to the left.

A frequent thing you did which he finds to be very adorable.

"Why wouldn't I? You deserve to be cared for..." You knew there was a deeper meaning behind his question, his eyes filling with silent tears as a confused gaze settled. Hands fiddling together as he lowered his eyes and gnawed on his soft but slightly chapped lips, probably as a result of his habit of biting on it. He was being slightly vulnerable more than usual, something he had just started to do with you after months of pestering him and convincing him that you meant no threat.

But still, it was cute.... He was cute.

And it brought a different kind of bravery to you, a power that pulled you towards him by his hands, shocking both him and yourself as you rubbed his knuckles softly. Neuvillette's eyes widened noticably, shaking in your hold as the warmth you had slowly got absorbed by his greedy heart and soul that had been all alone by itselves.

Perhaps everyone was right about his feelings of you that he tried to hide, that you were such a sweet and kind person that suited him the best and obviously loved him back.

"Life might not have been kind to you before, Mr.Neuvillette... However, I hope that we were all able to change it even a little bit and that you feel loved and happy." You softly say with a closed-eye smile, head tilted to the side and he knew... He knew you said them whole-heartedly, without any hint of malice or I'll will.

Ba-dump...

All his life, Neuvillette only knew harshness and loneliness. Never once was he ever cared for, coddled up or worried over. He had never seen someone as selfless as you are, as kind as you are and also as persistent as you with a soft and pure heart, and even more pure soul.

Often times, people avoided him at all costs and he too avoided them as long as he didn't have a job to get done with them.

But not you.

You were stubborn to see past that cold mask he had put over his face, the stoic and uncaring mask he had on so that he didn't get attached to anyone deeply and got hurt in the end. You always stuck with him throughout the day, asking him questions or just simply sitting there as he tried to noncholantly answer them with a thundering heart.

You knew the sweets he loved, how he liked his tea and even readied the water he loved before he started working and made sure the container was full.

But none of the sweet gestures would be as meaningful as the one you just did: Openly tell him that you love him and care for him.

Maybe he was being delusional, blinded by his growing feelings for you and having to keep them locked inside himself, but there was one certain thing he knew as he looked up to your precious jewels...

He wasn't. You trully loved him for him, wished to make him happy and wipe that frown away and just make him see the happiness this world could offer... And maybe, you might have muttered your confession under your breath but he couldn't have heard it... Right?

But now, as the cloudy feeling of the questions that was caused by his own insecurities were washed away, there was a much more important question as you waited anxiously in front of him for his reaction and he sweated awkwardly...

What kind of date was the best one to confess to you?

He sighed out tiredly, already planning if anyone would notice him sneaking out of his office, even with his tall posture, at how appealing the thought of being with you, even with how often you teased him with your silly comments and reactions, sounded so nice.

Oh how he wished you were here, he already felt guilty leaving the warm bed you shared because of these papers that absoultely meant nothing and all the stupid people he would have to-

"My love, are you busy? Shall I come in?"

You were trully an angel sent to just him and only him.

Neuvilette's face noticeably softened at the timid voice he heard behind his office door, following soon after a soft knock as his feet already took him to the source. He quickly gave you a kiss on your forehead as soon as he opened the door, his rich perfume filling your nose as a dopey smile stretched your face and you reciproceted with a fond kiss on his lips.

Just being two sickly in love people.

After some time with basking in each other's presence, he sighed out with a half relief and half tiredness as he nuzzled his nose deeper into your neck, his arms thightening around your smaller frame.

"You need not ask, never, love... You are always welcomed, my dear."

You let him lead you to the sofa in his office with a wide smile, where you usually laid after picking up a book and read it while Neuvillette did his job- though you often got distracted by how handsome and absolutely ethereal he looked, how peaceful he seemed after years of stress.

But today, he was different.

His back was more rigid and tense than normal, his eyes were scrunched up more frequently and he sighed almost angrily at any given time so much so that you were worried his dragonic features would come out.

And even his precious water cup alongside its container, one which would always be full to the top, was empty and he never for once tried to grab it.

Yep, it seems he is very irritated and on a knife's edge today...

So, as the amazing significant other you are, you saw the troubled and disheveled state he was in and couldn't help but want to fix it as soon as possible.

And what better way is there than being the cheerful and teasing one you were? That side pulled many reactions out of him after all, and would surely cheer hım up as well!

"Neuvi~"

He immediately lifted his head to look at you with a dumbfounded yet curious look, a smile so bright on his face at just hearing his nickname out of your lips, with the voice he adored the most. He could already feel a little bit of the exhaustion slipping out of his body, his quil on his hand was slowly put aside as his whole attention was turned to you and you only.

"Yes, my dear? What is it-" he said with a soft smile, voice barely covering his happiness but soon trailed off when you got up from your position on the couch, shutting the book you definetly didn't even read a word from and stood in front of his desk with a playful smile.

Oh... Oh! Not this time, he was exhausted and he definetly wouldn't be able to uphold his serious face-

But oh boy, he didn't expect to hear what came out next as his whole face reddened in embarrasment.

"According to the judgement of Oratrice Mecanique D'analyse Cardinale, you have been found guilty..."

You leant over the table teasingly without a care, arching your back more and tilting your head to look down at his piercing yet soft amethyst eyes that widened upon hearing your imitation of his usual commanding voice when he declared the decision of that machine, already anticipating what else you planned with this-this... This flustering and heart picking, breathtaking act of absolute love and playfulness.

"...of being cute~"

Oh how nice it was seeing that redness coating his cheeks...

Neuvillette, to be quite honest, was left slacked jawed, shocked to his core and absoultely flabbergasted with his jaw on the floor. Never in his long and eternal life, did he ever think that his line and the Oratrice itself would be used... To flirt with him.

But he loved it. He loved it so much, his heart beated hard and the air in his lungs were knocked out because it was you.

You, who had stolen his soul and heart all for yourself to never give up on it. You, who had a heart of golden and soul as soft as the Silk Flowers of Liyue.

You, who he called his partner and would continue calling that forever.

You, whom he was ready to sacrifice the world for.

But he didn't realize he had been too silent, enough to make you worry and drop the facade sooner than you anticipated as you looked at him from each side.

"Neuvi? Are you okay? I didn't say something out of li-" you worriedly asked with a hand over his arm, the shocked and frozen expression of his face making you take action, ready to cool him down because the redness that was steadily going towards a purple face couldn't just be normal.

But your lover only smiled like a fool and shook his head, taking a hold of your hand that was smoothing down his hair and rubbing his nape for comfort and laid a kiss on it, before bringing it close to his face.

"Sorry, my love... Your loving eyes had just taken all my words away."

Damn him and his charming words...

You giggled shyly, desperately trying to hide your cheeks from him to save yourself from the embarrasment. Your eyes landed on his inviting lap, all cozy and soft embrace as you slowly pushed him back to straddle him easily, loving and wanting to feel his arms around your frame as your heart was filled with unconditional love that often poured down from the confines of your heart.

All the while, his eyes never left yours as he watched you with dilated pupils, mouth open in awe as you moved around to find a much more comfortable position.

He promised to lay the universe before your feet if you wanted so, after all.

"So, my words didn't even affect you?"

You asked cutely, a hint of disappointment behind your voice as your hand played with the hair he often pushed aside and not clipped back as per your request. Even though he got flustered each time you stroked his hair and he remembered the reasoning you gave him why you wished him to do so, he wasn't going to deny you of anything.

On the other hand, your excuse of "It just gives you another kind of vibe... which makes me want to make out with you." did certain things to him... Which could be often seen on his pants-

"No..?" He hesitantly asked with a raised brow, earning a giggle from you as you pointed to his chest with equally flushed cheeks.

"Then why is your heart beating so hard?"

"It has been that way ever since I met you, my lovely spouse. It's so full of you that I can hardly call it my own."

He flushed suddenly, burying his face to your neck with a groan as he laid open mouthed kisses to divert your attention from the sudden surge of love and shyness he felt from what you said. Nuzzling his face closer to yours, he couldn't help but agree that this cheekiness you only had with him was the best part of his day and life.

Only he got to receive this, it was something only he had and no one else did.

Well, damn the smooth talker...

You could only shake your head in fake disappointment with a loving smile, bonking his head softly with yours in an affectionate move as you tutted at him and kissed the corner of his mouth with a burning face, giving all your love and energy to the tired man and showing how much you liked his words.

"You are such a silly dragon... And as much as I love you, it doesn't mean I won't tease you about this later. For now though? Let's cuddle, you can read those damn papers later."

He trully was a silly dragon deeply in love.

He chuckled under his breath at how much closer you nuzzled to him while pushing the papers away, as if you wanted to become one with his body. Nodding his head as he laid back with you on his lap, a hand rubbing up and down your back, he sighed out in bliss and left his work unfinished for the day, yet another new thing he did after he had gotten together with you.

Just as always, you were right.

And he could live with that, forever, if he had the chance.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvilette x y/n #neuvillette imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff

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florencemtrash · 7 days

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip.

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice.

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought.

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle.

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide.

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding.

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay.

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.”

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior.

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone.

“To plan his escape.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores.

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.”

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you.

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death.

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies.

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods.

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw.

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.”

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.”

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into.

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.”

You shivered.

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame.

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup.

Yes.

It would have to be enough.

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance.

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze.

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.”

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow.

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man.

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles.

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh.

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself.

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.”

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent.

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up.

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again.

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage.

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up.

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs.

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.” He murmured. “Again.”

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours.

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took.

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself.

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath.

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.”

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone.

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him.

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.”

If I make it.

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?”

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily.

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes.

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.”

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.”

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.”

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you.

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end.

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it.

Some way.

Somehow.

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke.

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission.

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening.

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.”

“Nesta?” You asked questionably.

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god?

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.”

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.”

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.”

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.”

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.”

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?”

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him.

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.”

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.”

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.”

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to.

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name.

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.”

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed.

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable.

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.”

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth.

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame.

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies.

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his.

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear.

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair.

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms.

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads.

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck.

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs.

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.”

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe.

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags.

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor.

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept.

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.”

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.”

Vassa came down the steps.

Alone.

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city.

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human.

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird.

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name.

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.”

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione.

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst

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doumadono · 23 days

Note

Once again, congratulations, my dear ♥ I'd like to order a mint-vanilla cone topped with M&Ms and maple syrup, please. Could I get a fantasy AU with Dragon!Kirishima and Dragon!Bakugo? Something really sweet would be perfect!

A/N: Thank you very much for all your support over the years, my dear! I hope you'll enjoy these headcanons I prepared for you ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

Kirishima

Kirishima lifts his head, his crimson scales shimmering in the fading light. His crimson eyes light up with affection as he sees you entering his den, and a rumble of contentment escapes his throat. "Hey, Y/N," he greets you warmly, unfurling his wings to welcome you. "I've been waiting for you."

You chuckle softly, running your fingers along his snout affectionately. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."

Kirishima's tail swishes excitedly as he leans in closer, nudging you gently with his massive head. "I was hoping you could help me with something," he says, his voice filled with anticipation. "My mane is getting a bit unruly, and my claws could use a polish. Would you mind lending me a hand?"

You grin at his request, feeling a surge of affection for the gentle giant before you. "Of course, Kirishima. I'd be happy to help you out."

He eagerly lowers his massive head, allowing you to run the bristles through his vibrant red mane. With each stroke, he emits a pleased rumble, basking in the sensation of your gentle touch. "Feels good," he purrs, his voice a deep, resonant melody that fills the cavern. As you delicately brush through the thick strands, he leans more into your touch, closing his eyes in bliss. "Your hands are like magic," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble of contentment. "Your touch always soothes me," he murmurs softly as you run your fingers through his mane, untangling any knots with gentle precision. "I'm grateful to have you by my side."

As you tenderly attend to him, Kirishima emits deep, rumbling purrs akin to a contented feline. It's his way of expressing gratitude and affection, a sign that your presence brings him immense joy. When you're finished with his mane, you move to work on his claws.

Being a dragon means relying a lot on the sharp claws. With all the activities dragons engage in, these claws are prone to damage. The best way to prevent further cracking and maintain them is by attending to them regularly. That's why dragon!Kirishima allows you to help him polish them.

Despite his formidable claws capable of tearing through stone, Kirishima allows you to polish them with the utmost gentleness, being careful to not hurt you during the process. He extends his massive paw with claws, allowing you to polish them to a dazzling shine. He watches you work with fascination, marveling at your skill and dedication. He watches with fascination as you buff away any imperfections. "You have such a delicate touch," he observes, admiration evident in his tone.

"I brought you some special polish today," you say with a smile, holding up a bottle of shimmering liquid. "It's a special oil, made of herbs that helps to strengthen nails, so I hope it'll work just fine with you. Let's make those claws shine like diamonds, shall we?"

He enjoys it when you rub herbal oils into his claws, massaging them slowly. He believes strongly it's the most comforting sensation he experiences as a dragon (aside from making love with you!)

Despite his imposing stature, Kirishima isn't above indulging in playful behavior with his human mate. He'll nuzzle you gently, nudging you with his snout to coax a laugh from your lips. "You're so adorable when you laugh," he rumbles, his eyes gleaming with warmth.

You're always amazed by the strength and power Kirishima possesses as a dragon, but you're even more enamored by his gentle and caring nature.

The act of grooming becomes a sacred ritual between dragon!Kirishima and you, a time for you to connect on a deeper level. As you tend to his mane and claws, he basks in your presence, cherishing the intimacy of your shared moments. "I feel so lucky to have you," he confesses, his eyes shining with affection.

Bakugo

Upon reaching the den, you found Bakugo resting on a bed of soft moss, his scaled form coiled comfortably. He raised his head, crimson eyes gleaming in the fading light as he greeted you with a rumbling purr. "What took you so long, idiot?" Bakugo grumbled, though the affection in his voice was evident.

"Hey there, you big brute," you chuckled, not paying attention to his wry remark, brushing a hand against his sleek scales. "Sorry, got caught up with something. How was the hunt?"

Bakugo's expression shifted, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "Successful, as always, woman! What were you thinking?! Brought back enough for a feast."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of the raw, blooded meat he had to bring to his den, but before you could discuss it, you noticed something that made you pause. "Bakugo, your scales," you said, furrowing your brow. "They're covered in dirt and grime. You need to clean them."

Bakugo's gaze narrowed, a growl rumbling in his throat. "I don't need to do anything. I'm fine. I bathed in the lake."

You shook your head, undeterred. "Come on, Katsuki. You know how important it is to keep your scales clean."

He scoffed, clearly not amused by your suggestion. "I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need you nagging me about it, idiot. I don't need to be pampered like some weakling," he grumbled.

You knew how to approach his offended, grumpy ass. A mischievous glint sparked in your eyes as you crossed your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh, really? Because I seem to recall you bragging about how you're the mightiest dragon around. Surely, the mightiest dragon can handle a little cleaning."

Bakugo's jaw clenched, irritation flashing across his features. "Fine, woman. If it'll shut you up, I'll let you clean my scales. Goddammit! I can't have a quiet moment, even in my own fucking den!"

You grinned triumphantly, knowing you had won this round. "Great! Let's get started then." As you set to work with a cloth you carried in your woolen bag, gently scrubbing away the dirt and grime from Bakugo's scales, you couldn't help but notice the way his tense muscles gradually relaxed beneath your touch. You marvel at his scales texture, smooth yet with a slight roughness. You feel the dirt and grime loosen under your touch. His scales are warm to the touch, radiating heat like the sun itself. With each stroke, you're careful not to apply too much pressure, mindful of his sensitive skin beneath.

Bakugo grumbles impatiently at first, shifting restlessly as you work.

You take your time, working methodically from one section to the next, ensuring that every inch of Bakugo's scales is cleaned to perfection. As you climb him to reach his back, you encounter a particularly stubborn patch of dirt, embedded deep between the ridges of his scales. With a determined frown, you scrub harder, eliciting a growl of discomfort from Bakugo.

"Watch it, human," he warns, his voice tinged with irritation. Yet, his initial reluctance faded, replaced by a quiet contentment as he leaned into your ministrations. "You know," Bakugo grumbled, his voice softer now, his crimson eyes closed, "this isn't as awful as I thought it would be."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you step back to admire your handiwork. Bakugo's orange-red scales gleam like polished emeralds in the sunlight, their vibrant hues shimmering with newfound brilliance.

Bakugo snorts in approval, a rare smile gracing his snout. "Not bad, for a human, I guess," he concedes, his tone grudgingly admiring. "Well, I guess you're not completely useless." The dragon nuzzles his snout against you affectionately.

As you curl up together in the warmth of the den, surrounded by the comforting scent of the forest and the gentle rustle of leaves outside, you can't help but feel grateful for moments like these. "I love you, my Great Explosion Murder Dragon Bakugo."

A deep rumble echoes in his chest. "I love you too, my little human."

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getosbicth · 7 months

Text

got you. this is where you're weak, right?

gojo x f!reader smut (nsfw) (18+)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.1ᴋ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɢᴏᴊᴏ sᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ᴡᴀs ᴍᴀɢɴɪғɪᴄᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴛᴇʀʀɪғʏɪɴɢ. ʏʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ sʜɪғᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜɪs ғᴀᴠᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ʙᴏʀɴ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ sᴏ ᴄʜɪʟᴅɪsʜ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇʟғ-ᴀʙsᴏʀʙᴇᴅ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀғᴜʟ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ? ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴛ ɢᴏᴊᴏ sᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɴᴏᴛ ��sɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴀᴛᴇ sᴇx, ᴅᴜʙɪᴏᴜs ᴄᴏɴsᴇɴᴛ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ sᴇx, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ sᴇx

Gojo Satoru was magnificently terrifying. The entire balance of the world shifted in his favor the moment he was born. How can a man so childish and self-absorbed be the most powerful being in the universe? The day you met Gojo Satoru was the day you learned the true meaning of the word weakness.

You received intel from allied curse users that Gojo Satoru will be on a mission to exorcise a special grade curse that occupied an abandoned building on the outskirts of Tokyo. You had an inkling it might be pointless trying to fight the most powerful man in the world, but your hatred toward him was enough to cause you to make irresponsible choices.

You have seen him before, while you were a student at jujutsu tech. You'd seen him around the halls, talking to his friends, joking around like he didn't have a care in the world. It was always sickening how someone so powerful couldn't see that sorcerers were superior to those without the ability to manipulate cursed energy.

He was tall, way taller than you and way more at ease. His demeanor was disturbingly calm, he had no reason to fear you- he knew he was stronger. You knew, however, that you weren't going to go down without giving Gojo Satoru a run for his money. There was no way in hell you were going to cower in front of someone who already saw you as pathetically incompetent. You hated his confidence. You envied his power.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" he said, standing in front of you with a sadistic smile spread across his face and his eyes sparkling with excitement. His eyes were like Arctic icebergs crashing into the infinite blue ocean, cold and merciless. He was going to kill you for your crimes and he wasn't going to think about it twice.

You grit your teeth and balled your hands up in fists, opting to attack first. It was pointless, though, because he only dodged your punches and moved behind you at a superhuman speed, suddenly pushing you to fall to the ground while you were still off balance. He stood over you as you turned onto your back and looked at him with revulsion in your eyes.

He smiled again, "You know you can't beat me, so why are you here?"

You got back to your feet, refusing to dignify him with a response.

Gojo Satoru could go to hell.

You summoned all the cursed energy you possessed and used your cursed technique to clone yourself until the room you were in was filled with replicas of you surrounding Gojo Satoru. You've never attempted to clone yourself on this scale, but the adrenaline coursing though your veins was doing wonders to aid you in using every last ounce of power you had.

"This is going to be fun," Gojo's eyes were almost glowing with glee as he stood in the center of all of your clones, attempting to decipher which one was the real you.

The clones began their attack, but to no avail, because he managed to crush each and every one by only using his hands. A flurry of punches were directed at Gojo and he managed to deflect all of them. One by one, your clones fell, until there was only a dozen left and Gojo grew tired of pretending you were making any type of progress. He focused on your real body, and suddenly he was in front of you as he smiled, wrapping his hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall.

"Got you, Y/N," he muttered in a low voice, watching you truggle as he held you pinned against the wall.

"Kill me already," you choked out, struggling to breathe with his hand wrapped around your neck. He stared at you with a strange darkness in his vibrant eyes. What was he waiting for, he could snap your neck in a blink of an a eye, why was he suddenly wasting time?

He hummed to himself, "No, I'm not going to kill you." His hand wasn't letting go of your neck no matter how hard you tugged at his wrist to let you go. "I would much rather do something else."

He pulled the hem of your shirt up to reveal your bra and breasts. You were too tired to protest as he started to fondle your breaststroke with his free hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You squirmed as his hand reached under your bra to squeeze your breast. What was he doing, why was he doing this? You were a curse user, someone he should kill without mercy. And here he was- touching you. Touching you as he held you pressed against the wall, unable to escape.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I don't have to hurt you when you can do nothing to hurt me," he whispered into your ear, making your head spin from the feeling of his warm breath grazing your neck. You were already feeling heat between your legs, hating yourself for succumbing to the simple pleasure of a man's touch when the man in question was Gojo Satoru. He was so good with his hands, though, way too good to resist.

"Stop," you growled at him, knowing full well you didn't want him to, but there was no chance you'd give him the satisfaction of having put you into submission.

He just hummed and grabbed your chin to turn your head to the side, gaining access to your neck. Your legs nearly gave out as he placed soft kisses on your neck, leaving small lovebites on your skin and breathing right next to your ear. The sound of his heavy breaths was enough to drive you insane. It was so warm but it gave you goosebumps all over your body.

While he was kissing your neck, his fingers moved from your breast down the side of your chest and under the waistband of your pants. He didn't waste any time touching you where you were burning with need. As his fingers made contact with the small bundle of nerves between your legs, you felt like electricity was buzzing through your veins. A jolt of pleasure wracked through your body like thunder, your hand immediatelly reaching for his wrist to pull him away. You couldn't say anything, you couldn't tell him to stop, you didn't want to. He was touching you so perfectly it made you want to scream- but this was Gojo Satoru. You couldn't let him know you enjoyed this.

So you put all your power into staying silent, even though he could feel you dripping onto his fingers, see your legs buck under the weight of your body. His touch was like magic and all you could do was grab and pull at his clothes, unable to move him the tiniest bit. He was growing tired of your unresponsiveness, even though you were so close to cumming that you couldn't breathe anymore. As you were about to reach your peak, he withdrew his hand, cruelly leaving you to pant and struggle with the ruined orgasm. Even in your helpless state you tried breaking away from his grip, but he shook his head in disappointment.

"Why are you still trying to fight me? You know you're enjoying this, sweetheart" he whispered into your ear, as arrogant and egotistical as ever, "I'm not going to stop until you're screaming my name." The promise made you both terrified and unbelievably aroused at the thought. Gojo Satoru had incredible stamina, you knew he wasn't bluffing.

He took you by your forearm and spun you around so that his chest was pressed to your back, holding you in place against the cold wall. You could feel his erection against your ass, hard and thick, pressing into your soft flesh and making you drool at the thought of it being inside of you. His hands roamed freely along your skin, exploring every bit of it under your shirt, until they found the waistband of your pants again and pulled it down along with your underwear.

You felt exposed, the cold air nipping at your bare skin, but then he pressed himself against you once again and you were fighting the urge to tell him to hurry up and fuck you. He was taking it slow on purpose, though, chipping away at your sanity with every touch and kiss he placed to the back of your neck.

"I'll go slow, I promise," he whispered as he pulled his pants down and pressed the tip of his cock to your pussy. His hands held your hips in place as he pushed himself in, agonizingly slowly, stretching your insides out as he went deeper.

You clawed at the wall, feeling yourself squeeze his thick cock buried deep inside of you. His breathing was strained, he was doing his best not to fuck you senseless right then, still letting you adjust to the feeling of having him inside you. You still refused to say anything and patiently waited for him to make his next move. But then he suddenly pulled out and swiftly thrust into you, his cock reaching further than before. You yelped out in surprise, feeling both pain and pleasure as your legs threatened to give out under you once again.

"So this is where you're weak, right?" His voice was like honey, his words causing a chill to run up your spine.

He started moving his hips at a steady pace, burying himself over and over again into your dripping cunt. He was whimpering into your ear, finding comfort in squeezing your breasts as he pounded into you mercilessly, feeling you wrapped tightly around him.

"You're still silent, huh?" he muttered, "Then I guess I'll just have to fuck you harder."

And fuck you harder he did.

Each time he thrust into you he brought your hips toward him, assuring that every bit of his length was buried inside of you. He was picking up his pace and you couldn't keep silent any longer. Small mewels and yelps would escape you with each thrust, your juices coating his cock and running down your thighs.

"Say my name," he commanded, "Say my name or I'm going to stop."

You were so desperate for his cock that you didn't care anymore. Your pride and dignity was already gone, you hated him and it didn't matter anymore. Gojo Satoru was fucking you senseless against a wall of a run-down building, ravaging your body like it was his for the taking. You hated him. However, you loved the way he was making your core burn with need whenever he buried his cock deep into you to let your hatred get in the way.

"Satoru," you said, completely out of breath, fucked out of your mind. "Don't you dare stop."

A smirk appeared on his face and he continued fucking you, his cock twitching happily at the sound of his own name. Your vision had become blurry, you felt like you were about to pass out from the amount of times he's made you cum on his dick, but he wasn't stopping.

"You're such a little slut, letting Gojo Satoru fuck you like this," he said, hearing you only cry out in response, unable to form proper words, "I know you hate me, but I love hearing you so desperate like this. You can't even stand properly. How does it feel being so weak? So weak you can't even say no to getting fucked by Gojo Satoru?"

You were weak. You were weak from his merciless attempts to make you climax over and over again, each one being more successful than the next. You were too weak to make him stop. You were too weak to want him to stop.

"Hold up just a little bit more, I'm almost there," he told you, speeding up his final few thrusts, making you curse at him through screams as he made you cum on his cock one final time before he stopped deep inside of you, filling you with his cum as he groaned, his forehead resting on your shoulder.

You stayed like that for a minute, both trying to catch your breath, his cock still twitching inside of you as you squeezed the last drop of cum out of him.

As soon as he let you go you felt just how weak your legs had become. You pulled your pants up, turning around and sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the ground in front of him.

He had a smug grin on his face, seeing the hate seep back into your gaze. This didn't change anything. You still hated him. The egocentric existence of Gojo Satoru was something you despised the most.

"I'll see you around, Y/N," he said, turning around and walking away, "We can repeat this some time soon. Don't worry, I'll find you."

And with those final words he disappeared in a blink of an eye.

#gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen smut #hate sex #fanfiction #minors dni

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ssplague · 29 days

Text

Benighted Beloved

Chapter One

Masterlist

(Read the PROLOGUE first)

Mature

Dragon King Bakugou x Moon Princess y/n

Warnings: A/B/O themes, soulmates, mating, sex, manipulation, power and control.

Oh how can one’s feelings

spin a tale so profound?

For only true love shall

Determine whether darkness

Or light shall abound?

The clouds of mist stemming from your shaky panting breaths resemble tendrils of smoke unfurling from the snout of a dragon. The vapors dissipate as they flow up towards the darkening sky. You had been running for at least an hour now, with no thought of stopping. Regardless of how much distance you’d put between yourself and the castle which you had escaped from, it would never be far enough. Sweat stung bleary e/c orbs as it slipped from your forehead down into them. The mud that you had carefully packed over the scent glands on each side of your neck was becoming itchy as it flaked off. It wasn’t just on your neck though; Each wrist had so much mud caked around them it almost resembled an earthy colored bangle. As well as the insides of your thighs, they were coated in it as well. Now that it was getting dark out you would have to be even more careful of getting tangled up in thorn bushes or slapped by jagged branches. The tiniest drop of blood would have him centered in on your location as soon as the breeze carried its scent to him.

All of these precautions were necessary when you were fleeing for your life. The gigantic disadvantage of just who was sure to begin pursuing you at any moment, already meant luck would be the only thing on your side.

Slivers of moon light forced their way between gaps in the tree tops.

He has to of returned by now.

Once that man steps a single foot inside the castle, your absence will be made instantly apparent. Not from the fretting of the structures hired occupants as they frantically searched for you, or threw themselves at the king’s feet pleading for mercy, shrieking apologies. None of that noise alerted King Bakugou of your disappearance, nothing so trivial.

It was the sudden feeling of emptiness that caused tightening in his chest, the return of that lonely longing in his soul.

Ignoring the idiots prostrating themselves before him, the beast of a man turned on his heel and exited the castle. Anger was coursing through his veins, white hot fury made his blood boil, sparks began emitting at random from clenched fists as he lost control of his thoughts. The hulking physique of the Dragon King was always imposing, but as his cloak billowed behind him in the night air, the man seemed to be growing larger. Anyone who had previously been out on the castle grounds was nowhere to be found, and good thing because even the bravest man’s heart would have given out as his eyes caught sight of the approaching ruler.

Katsuki Bakugou could easily be mistaken for the devil himself as he storms across the court yard. Muscle began swelling beneath the flesh of expanding limbs as they grew larger. The teeth that were clenched in a snarl elongated and sharpened, horns sprouted from the king’s skull to accompany the wild blonde hair atop his head. Smatterings of Glittering gold scales could be seen mixed into the majority of the inky black ones that made up his protective hyde. The now large ruby irises were iridescent as they shined with what resembled hellfire itself. Where the king had been standing, a dragon of monstrous proportions now stood. Leathery wings expanded outward as the beast threw back its head to release a bellowing roar. With that, it launched itself skyward and zoomed off into the night.

You were kneeling down at the bank of a small stream, gulping down handfuls of water as you tried to catch your breath. The soft rustling of bushes across the way had you frozen in fear, ready to spring up and start running again.

The head of a doe pokes out from a bush, you and the animal blink back at each other for a moment.

Your body sags in relief, deeming you not to be a threat, the doe and her fawn come to stand on the opposite bank. Both dipping their heads down to drink, you watch them with a small smile on your face as you begin to reapply mud atop your scent glands.

The fawn watches you with its head cocked to the side, curious as to what you were doing. All of the sudden both deer’s are on high alert and that was a good enough cue to you that it was time to get going. The three of you all bolt off in separate directions. Your legs were practically screaming in protest, feet were undoubtedly swollen inside your soaked slippers.

The one thing you were thankful for was the thick cloak you’d thrown on before making your daring escape.

You had never wanted this life to begin with, you’d merely been minding your business walking down the beach when you stumbled across him. Seeing such a beautiful man laying there with such grievous injuries, you were compelled to help him.

🏝️

One year prior

The people of this village had a shrine erected to the moon goddess Selene. Upon entering their midst, the island dwelling folk took one look at the crescent moon on your forehead and immediately welcomed you. Their crops were flourishing and nets were bursting with fish ever since you had taken residence within the shrine. It was far from easy to lug such a heavy man to your current home, but you inevitably succeeded. At first Katsuki was anything but grateful for your help. He scoffed at your efforts and cursed you out while doing your best at nursing him back to health. You took it in stride, never hesitating to clap back at the man with a gorgeous face and terrible attitude. As time went on you two had grown fond of each other, he knew you were the only one in this life for him.

Eventually the day came where he needed to return home, not once had he ever mentioned his title.

So when the young monarch confessed his feelings to you as he gripped your hands tightly, informing you that you were to be his future queen and he would soon return to bring you home, you were shocked. When he released his hold on you to step back and became a giant dragon, you screamed in terror, falling to the ground. Shrieking even louder as you attempted to scramble backwards when the beast leaned down to rub its snout against you.

I’ll be back for you soon, I promise.

You heard it clear as day inside of your head, lifting a shaky hand to caress the beasts sparkling scales.

The magnificent creature closed its eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of your touch. Then it was gone, leaving you standing there with misty eyes and a trembling lip. That was the first time you had experienced grief that stemmed from loneliness. All the while you remained silent. Watching the dragon flying on the horizon until you could no longer make out its shape.

“We wanted to tell you…but felt it wasn’t our place” the village priestess and wife of the chieftain says, coming to stand by your side.

“Tell me what? That he was royalty? Or a dragon?” You attempted to joke, failing to notice how grave the other woman’s expression was.

“To tell you that he is a monster, goddess born please you must flee from here, that man has caused rivers of blood to flow across these lands ever since he came of age”she pleads with you,“Katsuki Bakugou is more beast than he is man, his soul has been permanently darkened by all of the lives he’s taken and misery he’s sewn”.

“Please elder tell me more about this dragon king…I need to know what exactly I’m up against…”

A short time later you’re seated around a table of other women, a few men are leaned up against the walls of the chief’s home, including the man himself. Every person in attendance has told you the frightening stories of the dragon king’s cruelty, how he revels in the blood of his foes, commands a massive army made up of both beasts and men. You sit silently, soaking all of this information in, thinking back on the time you’d spent with Bakugou.

“I know what you must be thinking my dear, the man from our stories couldn’t be the one you’d helped…It’s only natural for a kind soul like yourself to want to see the good in others” a very old woman addressed you softly, reaching her gnarled hands across the table to gently grip your’s “Selene shines through you in every aspect of your life, you are a strong, smart, beautiful woman with an aura as pure as snow….A treasure that no mere mortal could ever create”.

The women at the table all chime in:

“Those reasons are surely few of the things that lead to the beast’s fascination and resulting infatuation with you…”

“A pure soul reaching out to one that’s grown so dark over time….”

“A beacon of light shining across a blackened ocean, a diamond hidden amongst coal”

Then the men speak:

“Dragons are self serving, stingy, beasts; Anything that shines beautifully they can’t help but be drawn too”

“They will obsessively seek out whatever it is that they desire, disregarding rationality and consequence”

“Once they get ahold of whatevet is they hide it away, if they can keep from destroying it beforehand that is, they may treat their hoard delicately, but how many of those treasures do you think were crushed under foot? Speared by talons?”

The villagers were right.

The man that you met was on deaths door, Bakugou was probably more vulnerable with you than anyone else had ever seen him. Anger is a result of fear, now the man’s crude language and sharp tongue made sense. Unfortunately, now that he was back to his beastly self, there was no telling what would happen between the two of you.

Or what would happen to you…

So you agreed to leave, accepting hugs and parting gifts from familiar faces, promising to return when it would be safe to do so. As you set sail on your one person raft, you admired the beauty of the moon shining down on you.Thankfully the mainland was only a day’s journey from here, and once you reached the shore you set off again. The best plan of action was to head west, but your journey towards the neighboring kingdom still took you through Bakugou’s territory.

Maybe I jumped to conclusions?

You couldn’t help but wonder as you rest atop a down tree within an unfamiliar forest. The village folk had no reason to mislead you, they were sad to see you go after all…

Still, the monster they described was nothing like the Man you had spent time with. How unfortunate would it be if all of this turned out to be a complete misunderstanding?

🔥

Seven moons later a red dragon soared over the vast ocean with ease, but the person atop its head was riddled with anxiety. Katsuki opted to have Kirishima fly him back to the island, that way the king could enjoy holding you close during the ride back.

Back home both people and creatures alike were all excited and joyfully anticipating the crowning of a new king, as well as a queen. After all this time thinking they wouldn’t ever have another one.

The current Queen Mitsuki was thrilled at the prospect of finally being a grandmother, she had just about forced her idiot son to at least reproduce with one of the now out of work concubines. Katsuki may hold the title of “Dragon King”, but he has yet to officially take the throne. It was traditional for the first in line to be mated before being granted the right to rule. The kingdoms oracle had foretold the young monarch’s eventual meeting with an ethereal beauty capable of soothing the savage beast residing inside of him, and the two of them would rule together over their prosperous kingdom for many decades to come. At least that is the official part of the prophecy the public was privy to…

“Land here Shitty hair, we don’t want to frighten her” Bakugou commands his companion, making an effort to mask the excitement in his gruff voice. Once the king dismounts, the crimson dragon begins to shrink and soon a red haired man of similar stature appears in its place. Both men walk through the now silent village, so focused on the task at hand they fail to notice the lack of activity or occupants. On the edge of the village a short forest path leads to the shrine where the king stayed with you. Kirishima stops short and allows Bakugou to walk up the short staircase alone.

“I’ve returned for you, just as I promised I would” Bakugou announces before sliding open the door. Instead of the beautiful woman he was expecting, the shrine was empty…a single insense burned beneath the painted moon.

No sign of the woman he loved.

Sensing the distress of his best friend, Kirishima comes to peek inside, seeing the empty space makes his heart ache for the man beside him.

“Maybe she’s out enjoying the sun? Why don’t we walk around a bit, I’m sure we’ll find her!” The red head

suggests, always the optimist.

The suggestion is met with silence, and now the absence of this island’s inhabitants dawns on both of them.

Unbeknownst to the dragon shifters above, the villagers had fled down into the island’s underground cave system.

It was the best shot they had at avoiding the vengeful Dragon King’s retaliation. Yes all of them were far beneath the surface where they planned to reside for some time to come. Well all of them with exception of one…

“Did you really believe she would wait for you after finding out all of the awful things you’ve done? After she learned the truth about you?” A voice calls out from behind the two shifters. They turn to see a man similar in age but his build was drastically smaller than each of there’s. He was the village chief’s eldest and most arrogant son, Shindo. The newcomer shows no respect to the royalty before him, his eyes are narrowed and he sneers at the king he hates so much.

“A monster has no right to claim one that is goddess born, your darkness will suffocate her light, the blood on your hands will sully her pure heart, im sure you know that though…but you don’t care do you, your majesty?” Shindo taunts.

“Where is she?”

Three words are all he gets in reply to his mockery of the king.

“Where is she?”

The question is repeated, gradually becoming more aggressive and louder than the time before.

“Somewhere you won’t be able to reach her” the dark haired man replies with a shrug, all he’d wanted to do was get under Bakugou’s skin and obviously he’d succeeded.

Just as Shindo turns his back on the Dragon king, does he feel something yanking him backwards. A shocked cry follows the agony of sharp talons stabbing into his shoulder.

“Tell me where she went and maybe I’ll be merciful and make your death quick, or I can peel your flesh off In tiny little strips, before I roast you alive on a stick like a pig”

So began an interrogation turned execution, the screams resulting from it had all of the birds on the island taking flight.

Kirishima watched as Bakugou washed the blood off of himself in the ocean, the kings cape hung off his faithful companion’s outstretched arm. Flames shot up towards the darkening sky as a raging inferno engulfed the empty village behind them. A rare grimace had replaced the red head’s usual shark toothed smile, beads of sweat lined his brow and dribbled down his broad back. The only sympathy within the red dragon shifter’s heart was for his best friend; Not an ounce was spared for the people that had now lost their homes, nor the bastard that had his life snuffed out by royal hands. This was the price to be paid for causing the king such immense grief. They got off easy honestly, maybe the two dragons would return when the rats thought it was safe to come out of wherever they were hiding. Only to end up being massacred by unforgiving talons and teeth. Once the blonde exits the water he takes his cape back, fastening it, and giving his comrade a simple nod before both of them begin to shift. Neither one of the massive dragons spared the burning island a glance as they took off toward home.

💐

“Oh what should I do now? I have no idea” you huff, somehow you ended up in a picturesque meadow.

Various types of flowers are surrounding you, all of them are so colorful and vibrant. You apologize to each one you plucked from the earth, nimble fingers setting to work on weaving a crown to set atop your head. “Id gotten so comfortable with life at the village I’d almost forgotten that I’m not originally from this world…nor am I used to such solitude…” Your whispers are carried away by the wind as it begins to blow rather harshly.

🍃

“I think that’s good enough to replenish my stock for now, guess I’ll head back and drop these off before I go back to the capital, better hurry if I want to make it in time for Kaachan’s return” the green haired male says to no one in particular, wiping the sweat from his freckled brow. “Oh no looks like a storm is approaching” Izuku mumbles as he exits the dense forest and takes in the darkening sky over head “Damn”. Upon reaching the floral meadow the first drops of rain begin to fall, just beyond the flowers hidden by a clump of trees, sets a small house his deceased mother used to call home. It now serves as a miniature library, as well as a laboratory that the greenette uses to practice his alchemy. The spontaneous down pour is surprising in itself, but the sudden boom of thunder, and flash of lightning is unnerving. What could have caused such a sudden severe change of weather? Another loud boom sounds above but a frightened scream comes from somewhere in the meadow.

Emerald eyes squint against the pelting rain as they scan the surroundings, and then he sees her.

A lone figure shivering amongst the flowers, hands clasped over her ears and eyes squeezed shut.

Midoryia wastes no time hurrying over to the frightened woman, “Hey there! Are you out here all alone miss? Have you been injured?”.

Your eyes open as you hear the concerned tone of a stranger, opening your mouth to reply a bright strike of lightening hits a tree mere yards from where you sit.

A yelp escapes you and suddenly you have one of the man’s arms in a tight hold. “Oh no you’re soaked, c’mon I have shelter just ahead and I’m sure you would appreciate a change of clothes” the green haired stranger gives you an infectious smile that you do your best to return, allowing him to lead you out of the storm.

A/N: Thoughts? Should I open a tag list?

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x y/n #bakugou x y/n #dragon king bakugou

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choccy-milky · 1 month

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bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below

so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"

BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.

and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺

#choccytalky #finally using that tag #tho its more like CHOCCYRANTY holy this is so long BHAHAHA #also one more thing idk why ppl think its ok to give unsolicited criticism to fanfic writers. like these are stories we're writing for US #and for free like u dont have to rudely declare how unhappy you are with it and that youre stopping. like what do u want me to do #do u want a refund?? BYE!! JUST GO!! like. i also wouldnt want unsolicited criticism or critiques on my visual/drawn art #and ppl understand that. so whys it so hard to understand ppl ALSO dont want it on their writing? both take effort #and giving actual valid criticism is a skill (which is why it was literally a CLASS when i was in uni)#i need a drink #and by that i mean COKE ZERO BABYYYYYYY #AND MORE DRAGONS DOGMA 2

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probablyasocialecologist · 6 months

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The backlash is in full swing. People who speak out for Palestine, for Palestinians, for Gaza are being punished simply for using their voices to advocate against genocide and for the preservation of life. Many of the high-profile examples of people being punished for their speech involve absurdly banal statements. Some folks didn’t even mention Israel by name. The CEO of Web Summit has resigned after tremendous backlash over the comment, “War crimes are war crimes even when committed by allies, and should be called out for what they are.” It would be comical if the implications weren’t so disastrous. Forced out for saying war crimes should always be called out. This obviously correct statement should’ve received no backlash at all, and instead cost this man his job. And yet, as we’ll get into here, the response to such a mundane statement hints at Israel and Zionism’s immense fear over public opinion turning, and on an even greater scale exposes the vulnerability of Western hegemony in this moment. Paddy Cosgrave, the Irish entrepreneur and CEO who stepped down at Web Summit, is not alone. Authors, workers, and politicians who speak out against Israel’s actions in any way are being censured and forced out of their jobs. The famed 92nd Street Y in New York City canceled the talk of Pulitzer Prize-winning author Viet Thanh Nguyen for signing an open letter condemning Israel's "indiscriminate violence" against Palestinians in Gaza. The editor-in-chief of eLife, a scientific magazine, told the world he is being replaced for sharing a piece from The Onion that called out indifference to the lives of Palestinian civilians. There is again a comic tragedy to someone firing an editor for sharing a headline from a satirical magazine that reads, “Dying Gazans Criticized For Not Using Last Words To Condemn Hamas” and not realizing how they are proving the very point they hope to suppress. In short, by suppressing, firing, and attacking those who uplift the humanity of Palestinians and condemn war crimes, powerful people are making it clearer than ever that they are not in fact on the side of justice. Even more plainly, when they condemn Hamas as barbaric again and again, but then go after people who oppose crimes against humanity and say that thousands of innocent people in Gaza should not be slaughtered, they expose themselves as barbaric and depraved. I hesitate to even use the language of barbarism, as implying the absence of civilization has over centuries become synonymous with dehumanization. But as Israel runs ads in Times Square that say “Be Human. Stand for Israel” and relentlessly bombs Gaza, killing thousands, it becomes hard to ignore how nearly every move made both by the state of Israel and many Zionists has the opposite of its intended impact.

#palestine #israel #gaza #censorship #hasbara

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minkdelovely · 2 months

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love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter one

“don’t call me by my name.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: descriptions of reader’s demon form, Alastor uses the chain and withholding your breakfast as punishment, Alastor takes pleasure in your fear, power dynamics, reader worries over being punished, lecherous demons in an alley, non-consensual grab and lick of the face, graphic violence, murder, blood, teeth as a weapon, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.5k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Why didn’t you bring me a boy to play with?” Niffty pouted, her little foot stomping the carpet.

She hadn’t been pleased when Alastor broke the news that he had acquired a new maid to help her out around the hotel, and glared at you past his legs. He laughed, seeming to enjoy her tantrum. You still weren’t sure how to feel about this Demon who had taken over your contract. While he had been pleasant enough at the Emporium after Rosie signed you over, he hadn’t spoken a word to you while leading you through the streets of Hell to bring you here.

“I’m afraid you’ve answered your own question, Niffty dear. Had I brought you a toy, I’m not so sure you’d sustain your productivity. Which is precisely why I brought help.” He turned to look back at you for the first time then, your chest tightening from the eye contact. Alastor maintained contact as he continued, “Sylvie will maintain my quarters for now so as not to take away from your duties, but once the hotel gets busier I expect you to play nice and share. Besides, she’ll need training before we just let her loose around the hotel! We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

He smirked at you and broke his gaze, pivoting to make his way up the stairs. Before the others could get a chance to come talk to you, an invisible tug was at your neck and you hurried to catch up with Alastor.

“I’ll show Sylvie to her room so she can settle in,” Alastor said loud enough for everyone, still facing forward as he continued up the staircase.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

That had been a week ago.

Everyone else had been fairly welcoming, Charlie being the kindest. She and her girlfriend Vaggie had made the most effort getting to know you, which made sense being they were in charge of the hotel. Though he wasn’t rude, Husker only spoke to you in short quips. You tried not to dwell on the pity in his eyes any time you crossed by the bar in the lobby.

Angel Dust had been nice too, the few times you had managed to see him and always at the bar, joking amicably that you could almost pass as twins despite quite obvious differences. He was a decent amount taller and slimmer than you for starters. Hell seemed to have turned him into a spider of sorts, and if you had to take a guess, you had spawned here as some kind of milky-colored reptile. No scales, but there was a faint pearlescent pattern of something close to that covering your neck, back, and extremities.

It was still jarring to see your reflection in the mirror. There were parts you still recognized, though even those features had felt Hell’s touch. To your relief, your face still looked more or less the same. Nearly Human passing, until your newly-added nictitating membrane blinked right-to-left. Though your red pupils and pink sclera were also a dead giveaway (haha, get it?). Something you weren’t sure you’d ever adjust to, but hey, you earned it right?

You had just finished getting into the black collared dress Alastor demanded you wore for work when a dark shadow pooled under your feet. Complete darkness and seconds later, you were standing in the parlor of Alastor’s suite.

“[Y/N],” Alastor’s low, static voice lingered on it, red eyes boring into you. Something he had gleaned very quickly in the week was how unsettled you got when he used your real name, and enjoyed the opportunities to use it. “I find tardiness to be an irksome trait. Do not make it a habit. Am I understood?”

You fought a grimace, loathing his condescension. The Radio Demon’s smile threatened to tear as he watched you struggle to maintain composure. You hadn’t succeeded completely, but you were making some progress.

“Well?” he goaded.

“Yes, sir,” you managed to say evenly, hands fidgeting behind your back.

You knew better now than to play into his tricks. He was trying to get you to react, a sport he took great pleasure in succeeding at. So when he wasn’t ordering you around, he was complaining about the look on your face. Sullen, petulant, ghastly, he had used all kinds of names. And when you had gotten cheeky with him about it on your second day after hours of scrubbing the area rug in his room that he had dirtied on purpose…

The slight ache in the back of your neck served as a reminder of that. Sadistically, the chain was the only true cold you’ve felt since spawning in Hell and it seemed to burn more than acid rain. It wasn’t hard to remember the weight of it, the sweaty feeling of it on your skin. Alastor had enjoyed it all immensely.

Denying him his fun in pissing you off probably wasn��t good in the long term, but you had to toe the line in order to find the limit. You wanted to learn as much as you could about the creature who owned you. Eternity was never-ending, but learning how to cope was all you could try to do. Being moved to this hotel had turned out to be a true blessing all things considered, so if navigating Alastor’s moods and demands was the price, you would have to pay it.

“Good!” The expression on Alastor’s face quickly relaxed into a more pleasant one. “Now hurry up and run into town to fetch my dry cleaning, and bring me something from that new butcher shop. I’ll leave it to you to decide, I so love surprises! Skipping breakfast will serve as your warning for being tardy. See you in an hour, dear.”

With that, he disappeared before you in a quick melt of shadow.

He was so. Fucking. Annoying. But you wouldn’t risk throwing a tantrum. For all you knew, he was still somewhere in the room, and honestly, you didn’t have time to waste. The walk from here to Cannibal Town was about twenty minutes and Alastor had summoned you before you had been able to put on your shoes, a five-minute setback at least. He had also made no mention of how you were expected to pay for any of this…

Time to perform a fucking miracle, you thought to yourself, and made your way for the door.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor watched as you took a deep breath and smoothed your pale pink hair before leaving his room. The small click of the door locking echoed in the silence. He re-materialized near the large window that faced the city, grinning when he finally saw you walking off the premises at a hurried pace. You were so close to coming loose, so close to breaking that unbecoming pout. How he loathed it. He would rid you of the self-pity you wallowed in, even if it drove you to madness. A chuckle escaped him at the thought.

When you spoke back to him last week it had been such a thrill. Alastor closed his eyes, reliving the memory. He had allowed himself a moment to enjoy your insolence before inverting it to fear. Now that was a face he could get used to. The cold sweat on your skin, your red-pink eyes wide with shock. The sound of your hands and knees hitting the floor was music to his ears! Though he would never forget the gasp that caught in your throat from the shock.

He didn’t even need to raise his voice when he told you never to speak to him that way again, a direction you had perhaps taken too much to heart. Then again, you didn’t come across as a fighter. No, you were much too apathetic for that, at least for now.

And you had smelled so lovely in your fear. The usual floral sweetness of your scent had turned warm and nutty. For a moment he was certain he had picked up a hint of bitterness before you had mouthed off, but it disappeared so quickly once you were frightened that he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he wanted to smell it again.

With some luck, that would be quite soon; a little over an hour now if all goes according to plan. The Radio Demon had never expected you to return within the given timeframe.

Setting you up to fail wasn’t fair, but it was certainly fun.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Donner’s Butchery had been absolutely packed, but you managed to purchase the last available pound of liver. Their selection had been so low that you were more concerned with walking out of there without anything at all. Whether or not Alastor would enjoy it was a matter reserved for your return, though you hoped he would since you had to open a tab to get it.

Thankfully, the dry cleaning had been settled upfront so you were actually starting to feel a little optimistic about making it back in time. In fact, you were now determined to be back in time out of spite. Imagining the veiled irritation on Alastor’s face when you arrived within the hour kept you distracted from the hunger pain in your stomach, and your pace subconsciously picked up. The high was short-lived though once your mind wandered to what other tasks Alastor would surely have lined up once you handed him his clothes and liver.

And what if he hated liver? You were in such a hurry that you didn’t even know what kind it was if he asked about it, which he probably would if only to watch you squirm trying to answer. The hotel wasn’t too far off now and you stepped into an alley to search the bag for a receipt, hoping that the butcher had been thorough enough to write it down. You found the receipt taped to the butcher paper, the words DEER LIVER scribbled with thick, black marker.

“Thank god,” you sighed quietly, relieved to have peace of mind and placed it back in the bag. You were just about to step back onto the sidewalk when you heard laughter behind you.

“God ain’t here, sweetheart. Haven’t you noticed?”

You turned to see two demons, already standing much closer to you than you’d like. In your desperation to check the bag, you hadn’t heard them approaching. Something that should have embarrassed you, given the sour smell wafting off their clothes, but there wasn’t time for that. You took a quick glance at the clocktower.

Five minutes.

Of course it was… Even if you ran, you’d probably only get to the gate at best and knowing Alastor, that wouldn’t count.

“You got somewhere to be? Hand over the bag and maybe we’ll let you go,” the taller one continued, his plump sidekick snickering, both moving to cage you in.

God damn it… You were so close. So fucking close. Not only that, but were you were hungry and exhausted. All you had done this week was try your best to manage Alastor’s impossible expectations for what? An easier eternity? The creeps standing near you were right, God wasn’t here. This is Hell. Suffering eternal.

The sanctuary you thought you’d found at the hotel was anything but. Its promise of redemption was the dangling carrot, always just out of reach. A sick joke, just like everything else here. Not that you had ever planned to be redeemed, you knew why you were here, but living in the hotel had lulled you into a false sense of security. Hell wasn’t clean and filled with mild-mannered sinners.

“Look at that, she’s fucking crying!” the plump demon laughed, bringing you back to the moment. “You’ve always liked ‘em scared, Donny.”

The tall one, apparently called Donny, shot his arm out to block you from leaving, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. “Is he right, baby? You scared?”

You could feel your heart in your throat. Scared? You were pissed. And when Donny grabbed your face and boldly licked a tear off your cheek, you snapped.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The Radio Demon had been hard at work tuning Vaggie out for the last few minutes. He was aimlessly wandering the lobby when she cornered him, seeming to have finally found her opportunity to interrogate him over acquiring your soul. It would have been easy enough to tell the disgraced Angel that it was the least he could do considering the help Rosie had provided them, but upsetting Vaggie was simply too much fun.

She was droning on about how she and Charlie would be taking over the onboarding of any more new employees when Alastor felt a chain rattle, ear flicking in response. Some fool was messing with his property. He reached out mentally to follow the chain and soon caught the scent of almond. He grimaced. Of course it was yours.

“As much as I cherish our conversations, I’ll need to cut this short Vaggie. I’m afraid duty calls,” Alastor said smugly, grinning at the rage on her face from being so casually brushed off before slipping into shadow.

When Alastor materialized in an alley he was met with piercing screams, and it took him a moment to register what he was seeing. You were on the ground straddling the waist of some poor soul, your face covered in blood as you tore out your victim’s neck with your teeth. The creature in question no longer seemed to have much left of the lower half of his face, the remnants of it no doubt lying somewhere in the gore. His death rattle was nothing more than a gurgle and spurt of blood, but it seemed you were too lost in your rampage to notice he was now motionless beneath you.

Alastor didn’t bother with the pudgy creature that had no doubt been your victim’s friend. Well, perhaps not a very good friend, seeing as the coward ran away once he regained his footing. Besides, it wouldn’t be difficult to track the cretin down if Alastor changed his mind about it later.

For now, his focus was on you and what a glorious sight it was. He wished for a moment that your dress had been a different color, just to see how much blood and scraps of flesh had soaked into it. Judging from the mess on your face, it had to be quite a lot.

The sounds coming from you were savage, nearly carnal, and you were relentless in your attack despite the damage already done. When would you stop, he wondered. When there was nothing but bone? The aspect thrilled him to the core and he sniffed deeply, taking in the scent of blood and almond. There it was — that delicious, bitter, nutty warmth. He had been right. Letting out a satisfied, pleasured sigh, he waited patiently for you to finish. After a minute or so you succeeded in decapitating the fool, and Alastor made his approach as you struggled to catch your breath.

Gingerly tapping you once with his foot, you startled with a growl and snapped your teeth. Alastor let out a low chuckle, taking in the wild look of your face, eyes glowing pink.

“I believe he’s had enough for now, dear. You made good work of him, I’m quite impressed,” he said, giving you a proud smile. “Now let’s get you home before you cause a scene.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #slow burn #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

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Hi Inês hope you’re doing good. Just thought about Lando being absolutely the sweetest with his pregnant girl. Maybe she’d be insecure but he’d do everything in his power to make her feel good and comfortable in her changing body and he’d be so proud he’s going to be a dad and always mention it in interview, to his friends and everywhere really

Cw: reader's insecurity about her pregnant body

It started as something small and barely noticeable. You started showing when the weather got colder, so it was natural to have more layers on, making your outfits lose the tight fitted shape, and Lando wanted you to be warm and comfy, so he didn't think of it at first. When you started getting ready and dressed in the bathroom, however, that tipped the scales in your husband's head that there was something going on.

"I want to have some cuddles with my two favourite people", Lando said as he laid in bed, ready to unwind from the day, "sure, I'll just put my pyjamas on, I'll be right back", you mumbled, the uneasiness clear in your voice as you made your way to the ensuite.

"Actually, baby, I wanted to talk to you about that", he began, catching your attention as you sat down on the bed where he patted his hand, "you've been very kept to yourself, and you never undress here in the room if I'm here. Is there something wrong?", he asked.

You knew better than to lie through your teeth, so you let it out, "my body has changed a lot recently, and I didn't even think I'd be this bothered by it. I never fit into the patterns that society defined so I thought I would be fine. It's just stretch marks and me getting bigger, it's not like it hasn't happened before", you scoffed as tears gathered in your waterline, "bu- but, It's a lot to take in. Every day there's something new I notice", you bit your bottom lip.

"Every single day there's something new and gorgeous about you, you're right, baby", Lando smiled, wiping the stray tear that fell on your cheek, "May I?", he asked as he lifted your shirt once you gave him consent, "your body is growing our babygirl, Y/N, and you look so gorgeous while doing it", he complimented.

"There's that old wives tale that says that if you're having a baby girl, it means the mother doesn't have that glow or beauty because the daughter is stealing them from her, but that's not true. Everyday you get more beautiful to me. Your tummy is making sure she's safe inside and nothing bad happens to her, your boobs will make sure she's fed and growing as she should", he smiled, tracing patterns in the skin before he unbuttoned the skirt you were wearing, glad the fabric was kept together by the buttons on the side of your thigh so you wouldn't have to move to be left in your underwear.

"All of you is beautiful, and I'm going to show you just that", he moved to hold your ankle, "these are making sure you're moving throughout the pregnancy, and they're so soft an-", he was interrupted, "Lando, they're swollen, Mila even compared them to one of her balloons the oth-".

"Shhhh, I'm not finished...! And your strong, thick thighs, I've always loved them, making sure you'll be ready for when the time comes to bring her earthside. These hips, I always get lost in them, and they're so gorgeous and perfect for me to hold you against my body, your tummy protecting our daughter, all of you", he kissed as he went along, bringing a smile to your face at his sillyness despite the serious tone, "I meant every word, Y/N, I love you, I'm in awe of you everyday, I'm proud of you for telling me how you feel and I'll remind you everyday of that", he kissed your lips, "you're the most beautiful woman in the world, baby".

"Does this look nice?", you looked at your husband through the mirror, not knowing if the dress was flaterring. Ever the funny one, Lando mimicked something going through his heart, falling dramatically on the bed, "woman, you're going to kill me with all of your beauty!", he exaggerated.

Giggling at his antics, you pulled him up to his feet, "you look gorgeous, baby, absolutely gorgeous", he complimented, making you twirl before he kissed your lips.

Already in the paddock, Natalie wa she first to talk about you, "I saw you arrive to the track today with a very special guest. How is everything going?", she questioned.

"Fantastic! It's great having my wife here this weekend, it's my home race so it wasn't hard for her to travel here, which is getting a little trickier now that she's pregnant, but yes, very good", Lando beamed at the mention of you.

"It's always good to have support around and you've been together for a while, too!", she noted.

"Yes! And we're having a baby, so it's been extra special making these memories together. She's sitting in the front here actually, I'm not sure you can see her", Lando pointed to the side of the stage he was facing, "you can't see how gorgeous she looks today, and she's very pregnant so I won't make her get up, but that just means you'll have to go online and see my very own beautiful superwoman", he gushed, the praise directed towards always coming to him so effortlessly.

"She does indeed look amazing! Hi, Y/N!", Natalie waved, "what a great Silverstone Grand Prix we're going to have, I'm sure!".

"Did you know that he told everyone in the driver's debrief that you were joining us today?", Oscar pointed out while you had lunch, his son Lucas drawing with you on his colouring book, "Lando!", you scolded softly, blushing at the thought of your husband pestering the rest of the grid, "what? They all know we're having a little Norris and they always ask about you, so I told them you were here this weekend!".

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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comradekatara · 23 hours

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so on a scale of aang (killing is always wrong) to katara (killing is a statement) to sokka (killing is a tool), where would the rest of the gaang + ozais angels go?

toph is hard to pin down because she’s the only character who ever actually kills people outside of the context of war. and i don’t know if she even realizes what she did, because she’s 12 and the adrenaline rush of discovering that you can actually metalbend probably supersedes any logical reasoning in that moment, but like, she did just leave two guys to die a gruesome death in a metal box. so i do think it’s more nuanced that simply saying, “to toph, killing is fun and flirty,” but like, there is a not insignificant part of her that will gladly kill as a means of asserting her power over others and individual autonomy, and has no compunctions about killing those who threaten her autonomy specifically, as it is such an acute point of trauma for her. but also, she’s twelve so like, she’ll probably develop a more nuanced approach to that quandary as she ages.

zuko’s stance on killing is mostly that he’s happy to outsource that violence and then take credit for it as long as he personally doesn’t have to get his hands dirty. like he’ll hire an assassin but won’t bring himself to admit that “end them” means “kill them,” or he’ll threaten to kill zhao and then try to save his life at the last minute. he wants aang to kill his dad but would never actually kill ozai himself, just as he wants katara to kill yon rha, but would never actually kill ozai himself. and i’m sure zuko thinks this is all because he’s a coward who simply lacks the capacity to be ruthless and effective (like sokka), but actually it’s symptomatic of zuko’s greatest quality, which is his inherent sensitivity, his queasy stomach for violence, his predisposition for gentleness, the fact that he actually struggles to deny his own inclinations and simply submit himself to a logic of brutal death and destruction. he thinks it makes him weak, but the fact that he actually has a desire to do the right thing and be a good person despite it all is truly his greatest strength.

azula is always operating from a place of survival because it was impressed to her from a very young age that she exists in a world that is unforgivingly cruel, and it is kill or be killed. she does not want to die (which is quite possibly one of her greatest points of deviation from sokka, but i digress) so she wholeheartedly submits herself to this logic, and unlike zuko, who struggles to erode his own humanity even under the threat of violence, azula is very good at becoming something “monstrous” (her words) out of fear, can contort herself into any shape necessary as long as the threat is tangible enough. so obviously azula approaches killing in the same way sokka does, no surprise there. murder is a tool to achieve her ends, to ensure her own safety and survival. it is simply a mechanism of war. but unlike sokka’s view of it, she also believes that the strong kill the weak because the weak deserve to die, and that logic she inherited from ozai.

we never see suki actively kill anyone, but she does threaten to feed sokka to the unagi, so like, even if she is (probably) joking, i don’t think suki is flat out against killing. i think she’ll kill if she absolutely has to, but would also prefer not to because she clearly values and holds a deep appreciation for life. but also, whenever there is a gap in our textual understanding of suki, i usually just fill it in by being like wwkd (what would kyoshi do), so maybe that’s why i just said. who knows

mai always makes an effort to never actually stab people with her blades, but rather pin them in place. that said, whether this is because a Y-7 cartoon simply isn’t allowed to depict blood or if it’s because mai is genuinely that attuned to not seriously hurting the people she throws knives at, i’m not entirely sure. i like to think that mai doesn’t actually want to hurt people, because like zuko, she is naturally inclined towards sensitivity and gentleness, but i think there’s also a part of her that would lock people in a metal box if she could. i think the best way to summarize mai is thus, excitement is valuable (including the heat of battle), but killing is unpleasant.

ty lee has actively refined a technique that makes her extremely dangerous without ever actually having to cause long-lasting damage to someone physically (psychologically is another story). yet another W for ty lee air nomad heritage theory, but i digress. ty lee is smart enough that she never actually has to be personally responsible and culpable for killing anyone ever, but she is also submitting to and enabling the violence of an empire for the sake of her own survival, so it’s not like she’s not complicit either. so to ty lee, killing is also a tool, but one she personally doesn’t need to employ, which is a comfort to her.

iroh (technically you didn’t ask about him but he’s fascinating so i can’t just leave him out) used to view killing as a tool, and now views it as an inviolable taboo because it took him like over 50 years to recognize the inherent value of human life and the grief of losing a loved one. so it’s not that he grew up in a “kill or be killed world” that fostered his need to kill to ensure his survival, but simply that he grew up in paradigm that dictated that “killing is the path to attaining glory” and he was good at killing, and thus glorious. but then he experienced the consequences of that worldview firsthand, and had to completely recalibrate his own logic of conquest and domination. and so now he’s still capable of violence in equal measure, but is less willing to exercise it for purely shallow, destructive reasons. yay..??

jet actually does think that killing is fun and flirty. anyone who disagrees with him deserves to die because he is simply right about everything. sokka? closet fire nation sympathizer, obviously. guy he met on a boat who said “hey im not really interested in joining your child militia”? well he’s probably the prince of the fucking fire nation (okay he was right about that one but he had no way of knowing it so). he watched the rough rhinos burn down his house and murder his family with a smile on their faces, and a part of him that day calcified and decided that the only way to truly reclaim his power was to beat them at his own game. so he does everything in his power to control the people he can, to control his narrative, to refine his logic in a way that makes him the uncontested hero no matter what. but in truth, it’s quite simple: he wants power because he has none.

haru exists somewhere between “killing is a statement” and “killing is a tool.” killing is a tool because it functions as a statement. killing is a statement because it functions as a tool. violent resistance is necessary by any means necessary, but you know, in a nice way. he’s basically just the model of the “good” colonized subject who fights for collective liberation instead of personal empowerment, so it makes sense that he’s introduced before jet as like the emblem of what katara should do (how she should fight, what she would fight for) versus what she shouldn’t. which is like, perhaps a simplistic reduction of “good” vs “bad” methods of resistance into “our noble collective action” vs “their senseless terrorism,” but like. lol. what can you do

#turtles-alltheway-down #asks #analysis #toph #zuko #azula #suki #mai #ty lee #iroh #jet #haru #put the main three who matter here above and then the rest below the cut #sometimes i forget that zuko is a good character bc yall are so annoying about him…. but then i remember #i also need to talk about more at length about how azula rationalizes that the weak deserve to die thru ozai for MULTIPLE interconnected #reasons that I didn’t have time to get into here #and also just azula’s relationship to ozai in general #but im putting off actually writing that bc it is. genuinely devastating and i don’t wanna #anyway!!

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voltronisanobsession · 10 months

Text

miguel finding his kid again

I wanted this to be short but I couldn’t help writing so much :/ I just ended it quickly LMAO💀💀

SPIDERVERSE CONCEPT CUZ IVE BEEN OBSESSED

OK SO!! I’ve seen a LOT of headcanons and concepts about Miguel finding his kid in a different universe and just being super protective of them, whether they’re a spider or a normal civilian. But I have a different take on it.

Imagine Miguel and his crew of spider people hunting down this new anomaly that’s been jumping between different universes, always managing to narrowly escape them. Miguel is super frustrated because not one of them is able to capture this villain? Person? Ugh he doesn’t have enough time to care with all the mayhem they’re causing.

This new anomaly, aka Reader, happened to gain these freak new abilities after the events in ITSV that allows them to tear a hole in any universe and travel through it. Of course they have no idea which universe their new powers will take them to so it’s always a 50/50 chance with it.

But the real problem that makes reader a ‘threat’ to the spider society is when they stay too long in a universe, things start slowly glitching out and causing destruction to the world. They’re just too strong that it breaks the balance of any universe they stay in. Kind of like tipping the scale sort of deal!

Which is why homeboy Miguel wants Reader detained asap before they cause a whole universe to collapse on itself. But like! It’s not the readers fault really!! They just don’t know how to control their powers and having a bunch of adults viciously chase them around really does something to a kid (looking at you Miles💀)

But constantly running away from superheroes while wearing a mask does begin painting them in a villain light💔

So imagine Reader gets cornered at last by Miguel, Jess, and some other spiders.

“Guys, I promise it’s not what it looks like. I’m just a normal person, I’m practically harmless!” They say as they bump against the building behind them, watching in horror as it begins to glitch at the contact they made.

Despite the teens voice sounding familiar, Miguel brushes it off and scoffs.

“Ha, harmless. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

Reader has no idea what the spider society is gonna do to them so they can only glitch a hole in the building behind them and run away in fear. Miguel is absolutely fed up with them and just dashes after Reader, chasing them up buildings as they glitch around. He knows he’s running out of time since this usually only happens when they’re getting ready to open a portal.

He would manage to get a hold of their hoodies sleeve before they go tumbling down to the ground, mask yanked off to properly breath in some air. Reader opens a portal, trying to stand up and stumbling a bit, looking back to Miguel.

Just as he’s about to run towards them and tackle them to the ground, his breath gets caught in his throat, heart suddenly beating erratically.

He recognizes their hair, the shape of their face, sees the fear in their eyes. He literally cannot move. Miguel is frozen at his spot, body trembling at the sight of you. His child. His dead child.

“y/n?” His voice would almost be a whisper, but reader hears. They can only stare in shock at the sound of their name, slowly backing up.

“How do you know my name?”

This dude would get some major flash backs, from his old life, to when he caused a universe’s destruction. Everything he swore to protect, to love, he failed. He failed reader twice, so it’s understandable that Miguel might be a little afraid of you.

He would not move an inch even after readers gone, Jess having to snap him back to reality. Miguel was not ready to get a smack to the face with seeing Reader again after all this time and pain.

This is what I wanted to talk about originally. After seeing his kid again, instead of growing desperate to create a new relationship with them, he’s just afraid. He’s scared of a repeat after what happened before. Miguel wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of reader, they remind him too much of what he’s lost.

I think he would step down in being about of the chase for Reader, he can’t go after them after finding out their his child. Well, in a different universe, their his child. He’s too afraid to face them again. Too afraid of the memories they bring.

It’s only when they accidentally glitch into his office that he’s forced to come face with them again. And when he does, he tries his best to get away from them💀💀💀 like bro is webbing away, powering up his platform and getting lifted up into the air away from them.

Which would totally be fine with Reader hadn’t they been chased down by this man for a couple of weeks. Why isn’t he trying to attack them? What’s the sudden mood change? Is he afraid of what they could do?

They can only clumsily climb their way up to him while asking him questions.

“Um, I know we got off the wrong foot but- urgh! Almost slipped haha! Anyways like I was saying! What’s your name? Oh and why are you trying to get away from me?”

They would be right in front of Miguel, a few feet away from where they’re hanging and he would just turn around, back facing them while they grunt in annoyance.

“You stopped going with your little gang. I know I’ve been zapping all over the place but was it something I did? Hey are you ok??”

Miguel’s body would move as he tries to stifle his quiet sobs at the sound of your voice. Oh god did he miss you. But he can’t get close to reader again. Not after what happened last time.

“I think I have tissue somewhere in my poCKEETTT-!” Miguel’s immediately webbing reader towards him as they slip off the pipe they were standing on, making a free fall

He lets out a shaky breath at the sight of you alright in his arms again. He can’t control his urges as he hugs reader tightly, letting soft apologies fall from his lips.

All this is happening and reader is just so dumbfounded. They could only awkwardly pat his arm and accept his apologies. You didn’t know he was THAT sorry for chasing you around universes.

“I missed you so much. I never wanted that to happen to you, mi corazon. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about man but thanks I guess?”

He’s sniffling as he releases you, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you by the shoulders. It’s only when he realizes reader has no idea who he is that his heart sinks.

“My dad died when I was young. Like toddler young. I never got to know him.”

You don’t know how to feel when Miguel reveals that he was your father, not the same dad from your universe, but a different variant.

This begins the weird growing relationship between the two of them. Miguel tries his best to put distance between them while Reader is just super eager to know more about him! His favorite foods, how he created this spider society, what happened to the different variant of you that clearly has him shaken up!

It would take a bit of time before Miguel slowly lets down his guard again. Allowing reader into his heart again for the third time.

#atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #platonic spiderverse #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x reader #platonic Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderverse miguel #spiderverse concept #miguel atsv #atsv x you

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zetmns · 9 months

Note

Hihi ! Can I request Lucerys with a s/o who likes playing with his hair ??

Playing with Lucerys hair hcs

pairing Lucerys velaryon x gn!Targaryen Reader

a/n: I actually life for sweet Lucerys headcanons btw THIS IS SO UGH IM GIGGLING I hope u like this 🐳

-to start Lucerys isn’t very fond of his hair to him it’s a constant reminder that he’s just a bastard and will never be a true velaryon and that’s were you come in

-luke loved the way you never cared about him being a bastard or his hair color and you truly loved him for him

-so one day when you were both sitting on a tree reading or just talking and you let him lay on your lap he was a bit surprised he was new to being in a relationship and was already quite nervous around you so it got 10 times worse when you started playing with his hair

-but it’s not like he stopped you or disliked it actually brought a smile to his face everytime it happened and he didn’t really care to hide it either

-Luke and your relationship was a well known thing around westoros being in such powerful family lines and dragonriders so everyone knew about the two of you, and all your family and servants knew you were both just lovesick teens to eachother

-sometimes you’d been caught in random parts of the castle just playing with his hair and talking like two love sick idiots with heart eyes which the servants may complain about but they think it’s adorable

-no matter how long you’ve had the habit he still gets all giddy and blushes so hard he’s redder then Caraxes scales at your habit

-sometimes he’d sneak into your room at night and just talk to you well laying in your arms so you could play with his hair he loves it very much especially when your alone and can just cuddle and play with his hair

-luke basically let’s you do whatever with his hair braid It? He doesn’t care as long as he’s with you. twirl it in your finger? He thinks it’s cute

-because you’ve been playing with hair since you were both little children he got used to it rather quickly and was obviously in a mood when you hadn’t played with his hair that day it was so normal to him that it not happening was like a Wierd event

-lucerys has always been a insecure since childhood, about his hair? Yes definitely and he thinks he won’t be good lord of the tides and heir to drift mark

-so theirs been times when he’ll be panicking about his duties and think he’s not good enough in his chambers when you saw him like this you took his hand and led him to sit on his bed and sat with him his head in your neck as you played with his hair it was relaxing for him after a few seconds completely calming him down

-sometimes he would sneak Into your chambers and just lay with you just to hear your voice or just lay in your arms and let you play with his hair it helps him sleep and will complain the whole day next day if you didn’t play with his hair

-servants have came up to you and said how much he mentioned It annoyed him that you didn’t play with his hair hoping you would end their suffering and just play with his hair

-even jacearys has come up to you with lucerys running behind him whisper-yelling for him to stop

“ you ought play with his hair he’s a bit moody today and that should help him hm Luke?”

he said turning back to Luke while you smiled and we’re trying to hold in your Laughter while Luke blushed brightly with a embarrassed look on his face well he glared at his brother

-“shut it” he said pulling jace along with him walking away from you “bye y/n! Make sure to play with his hair later!” Jace waved with a smile before being hit in the stomach halfway thru his sentence by Luke who was scolding him with a glare to his brother before he looked back at u and blushed brightly looking away when he saw you looking back at him

-later that day when he came into your chambers as usual he was quite with just a small greeting before laying next to you

“need me to play with your hair? We don’t want you being moody again” you teased ruffling his hair

“shut up” he muttered laying in your arms and putting your hand in his hair before you softly played with his hair as lucerys laided on you his face buried in your neck as he drifted off to sleep.

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x Reader #hotd x reader #hotd

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quest-for-pluto · 5 months

Text

Sparkles

Ao’nung x Human!Female!Reader

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Summary: You work as maintenance at base 36, a testing facility used for unethical experiments on captured local Na’vi. One day when the base’s power supply melts down and explodes, you’re caught in the flaming crossfire. In a split second decision, you also decide to free the panicking Na’vi in his glass cell.

Aged up!Aonung to 21 and reader is 20

Chapter 2: the giant blue alien in the room

You woke up to the pleasant feeling of burning agony, like you'd just skinny dipped in molten hot lava.

"G-guhhhh—" you choked out, fingers twitching and trembling against the floor as you struggled to gain some semblance of motor control. Tears burned your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You writhed violently on your side as wave after wave of excruciating, searing pain washed over you.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe through it, Y/n.

That was a lot more difficult than it sounded, especially when all you could hear was a continuous, tortured scream in your head. Your nails scraped at the cold concrete that did nothing to cool you down, trying to grasp onto something for support but only finding air between your fingers.

Never had you experienced anything so intense and all-consuming in your life. On a scale of 'Oh shit, that was a spicy cheeto' to 'Fuck I think my face is melting off', you were probably at a respectable 'I want to amputate all of my limbs and live in a freezer for the rest of my life'. Your vision dimmed and blurred as you fought to stay awake.

It was a strangled choking sound that broke you slightly out of your delirium. Your head turned slowly to see a giant blue body not too far from you, the skin on his right arm and leg raised in a pattern of angry looking blisters, but that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the frantic wheezing sounds he was making, grabbing desperately at his throat.

Somewhere in your foggy mind it occurred to you that oh yeah, that's right, his kind were not meant to breathe in your air.

Get up, Y/n, you chided yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. You need to do something.

With all of the strength you could muster, you rolled over, your vision nearly going white from the blinding pain. Slowly you staggered to your feet, pausing as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You blinked through your titling vision, eyes scanning the room for a possible solution. The only thing you could see were the supplies you had originally found, although some of them were admittedly pretty burnt now. Rebreather masks would be useless to him as well. Shit.

That left only one option. You had to figure out how to bring the native air from outside into the room.

Your eyes rose to the two, tiny windows in the room, located way higher than you could reach. You knew that every single window in base 36 was mandated to be bulletproof, so the chances of you being able to break it were thin, but—you had to try.

Staggering to your pile of supplies, you dropped to your knees, hands frantically combing through the items until they closed around the handle of the rifle you had discovered earlier. You quickly snatched a rebreather mask from the floor and secured it on your face. With a shuddering breath, you aimed the barrel at the right window, flicking off the safety and hastily pulling the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet ricocheted off of the surface, imbedding itself into the wall just over your shoulder. You inhaled sharply, turning to blink at it in shock. That was...way too close.

By now, the Na'vi had given up clawing at his throat. He laid sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and terror-filled as his chest rose and fell rapidly in short, convulsing breaths.

Damn, damn, damn. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Don't worry," you articulated the best you could, which was probably a barely understandable slur. "I won't—I won't let you die."

With renewed determination, you lifted the barrel to aim at the window again. You pulled the trigger.

Bang.

"Ah, fuck!" You cried, stumbling backwards. The bullet had grazed your burnt arm. Damn that stung like a motherfucker.

You grabbed the wound, clenching your jaw as you put pressure on it. Warm, thick blood escaped from between your fingers, trickling down your skin in rivulets.

"Okay," you breathed to yourself, supporting your injured arm with your other hand. Your whole body trembled from the pulsing pain. "You can do this, come on."

You pulled the trigger.

With a cry, you dropped the gun, clutching onto your arm in pain from the recoil.

The bullet imbedded itself in the window. You panted, watching with wide eyes as cracks began to quickly spread from the point of impact.

It shattered, pieces of glass exploding outwards and clattering onto the floor. You lowered your gaze, sighing in relief.

Your eyes flickered to the trembling form to your left. He was in terrible shape, but he hadn't passed out yet. He would survive.

You sunk carelessly to your knees, hands pressing into the floor as you struggled to catch your breath. Was it you, or was it getting suffocatingly humid in here?

Wait.

You took a deep, experimental breath, horrified to find that it didn't quite fill your lungs. Your hands quickly shot up to your mask, grasping blindly until you froze, cold realization washing over you as your thumb ran over a noticeable crack.

No, no, no. You couldn't possible be this much of an idiot.

Except you were.

You'd forgotten to properly check your own oxygen supply in your haste to make sure that the potentially homicidal alien didn't suffocate next to you. Now you were about to suffocate instead. Fantastic.

You dove back into the scattered pile of junk with desperation, your heart sinking as one by one, the rebreather masks turned up cracked or burnt. Completely unusable.

This can't be happening, you thought hysterically, a sob threatening to burst from your throat.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying open. It was at that moment when you finally spotted it lying on the floor, maybe a dozen or so steps away.

A completely intact mask.

Your eyes widened as you staggered forward, hand reaching out desperately. You took about two steps before your vision swam dangerously, your gaze titling quickly towards the ground.

You landed harshly on the concrete, you could tell by the way your teeth clacked and the hard jolt in your wrists, but you barely felt any pain. The only thing you could feel was the burning in your lungs and the thrumming wooziness in your head that was making everything spin.

Come on, you gritted your teeth, using the last of your strength to shimmy yourself forward, your mouth gaping open in rapid, heavy pants.

Come on....

Your vision darkened at the edges as your head collapsed against the floor, your body finally giving in to violent convulsions. You panted shallowly, your fingers twitching out to reach for something—someone.

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your body floating steadily in the air, before relief quenched the unbearable burning in your lungs. You blinked blearily, the last of your energy drained as your eyes finally slid shut.

You dreamt of the ocean. Sea mist in your hair and salt water on your lips.

****

Sunlight shone through your lids, making you groan.

Your eyelids fluttered in irritation, before finally blinking open in defeat, giving up on the hope of getting any more sleep.

You were...not in your your room. Your eyes widened as you jolted upright in shock—or, well at least you tried to. An overwhelming throbbing pain across your chest, knees, right forearm and head knocked you flat on your back again, wheezing for air.

The second thing you noticed was the mask on your face, your breath fogging up the clear surface in small puffs. Why were you wearing a mask inside the base? What was going on?

The base collapsing in the fire. Saving the blue alien. Getting knocked unconscious by the explosion. Struggling to breathe—

Your breath shuddered as you brought your left hand up to grasp at your neck at the phantom feelings of suffocation, your fingers drifting upwards to skim the tender bruise at the back of your skull. Your heart hammered frantically in your chest.

Then, if you were here, that meant...

Your head slowly craned over to the other side of the room, a gasp leaving your throat at the sight of your new roommate slumped against the wall.

Now that you were no longer in survival mode, you could truly take in his incredible stature. It was exactly like the stories you'd been told, he had to be at least ten feet tall, if not a little more. Lucky for him though, the ceilings in the storage room were just barely high enough to accommodate him at his full height.

His skin was not the same shade of blue everywhere. You noticed that it was a lighter, sky blue color nearing the center of his body like his torso and his face, and a darker, marine blue color at the extremities. There also seemed to be a distinct stripe like pattern that you were pretty sure was natural for his species. The dark, tattoo-like markings all over his body were a different story of course. The swirling shapes and symbols extended down his biceps and climbed delicately up his neck, but seemed to be the most intricate around his left temple.

Large blue eyes suddenly snapped open, catching your stare with startling intensity. You almost scrambled backwards in a jolt of fear, but caught yourself at the last second, holding carefully still.

You didn't even dare to breathe as he narrowed his eyes at you, making no move to come closer. His right arm hung limply at his side, the blistered skin probably making it very painful to move it at all. Not that you were much better off.

If you were to take a guess, you probably had second degree burns scattered in patches across the front of your body. The only thing keeping the bile in your throat from rising any further was your immobility.

After a few tense moments his gaze flickered away, growing disinterested in your little staring competition. You felt the air escape from your lungs, your tense shoulders loosening in a discreet sigh of relief. Right, you probably didn't register as much of a threat when you were sprawled across the floor like a rag doll.

You turned your gaze back towards the ceiling, staring thoughtfully at the condensation on your mask as you contemplated your situation. The rations you'd found earlier were probably salvageable, being packed safely inside thick bags meant to withstand the elements of Pandora. As for water...well, you were just happy it rained often here. You'd have to find a way to capture the water from the tiny windows much too high for you to reach, but that was a problem for later you. As for now...

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push up to a sitting position. Your eyes watered immediately at the intense burning pain. Okay, no, your pain tolerance wasn't that high. Gritting your teeth, you tried rolling over instead, the stretch of your skin making your jaw clench so hard you were surprised a tooth didn't crack under the pressure.

You were so concentrated on the movement that you didn't feel your stomach roiling tumultuously, or the warm bile climbing up your throat until it was too late. As you pushed yourself up on a shaky arm, your eyes widened as you felt your body violently expel your last meal. You shoved off your mask in the nick of time, turning your head to the side as gunk splattered on the floor next to you in an acrid, chunky pile.

You wiped your face with your good arm, spitting out the residue in your mouth with a grimace. Gross.

The Na'vi was eyeing you in disgust, and you were pretty sure that he would've moved away if he wasn't already sitting as far as he possibly could from you. You returned your own glare. Well, if it weren't for you, he'd currently be an extra crispy dino-sized potato chip, so he shouldn't be complaining about vomit.

Readjusting your mask, you glanced carefully around the room, your gaze sharpening on a first aid kit poking out of a ration bag. Well, patching yourself up was priority number one. You were not looking to deal with an infection on top of second degree burns.

You hissed a breath through your teeth, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Your arms shook from the strain, tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Twenty feet felt like two miles, and by the time you'd managed to drag yourself across the floor, you were pretty sure forty-five minutes had passed. The whole time, you felt a piercing stare burning into your back. You ignored it, not having the energy for another useless stare down.

Coughing wetly, you grabbed the duffel bag with trembling fingers, pulling it closer to you. It took you a few tries to pull the zipper open, but you finally managed the motion on the fourth try, freeing the white box of medical supplies from its confines.

You undid the clasps, flipping it open carefully. Bandaids, gauze, plasters, soap, alcohol wipes, sterile gloves, tweezers, antibiotic ointment, scissors, needle and thread. Perfect.

Carefully scooting yourself to a seated position and wincing at every tiny agonizing motion, you pulled on the latex gloves with a snap. A muted snarl broke you out of your concentration, making you pause.

Your alien roommate was not a happy camper, judging by his curled upper lip that exposed his giant, bat-like fangs. Okay, that was definitely not good. Those things could probably bite your leg clean off if you weren't careful.

The rumors you heard about his species still very much freaked you out, if you were being honest.

"Hey," you said lowly, raising your gloved hands. You flinched as his snarl grew more intense, eyeing the unnatural blue color on your skin in evident distrust.

Jesus Christ, you'd really done it now, hadn't you? Why couldn't you have just acted like a normal human being with self preservation instincts and only saved yourself? Now you had to deal with...whatever the hell this headache was.

"They're gloves," you emphasized helplessly, knowing that he couldn't understand you but still trying to convey meaning through your tone. "They're harmless, see?" You brought your hands down to pat your shoulders, hiding a wince at the movement. You put on your most convincing (although slightly strained), harmless smile for extra effect. A rogue muscle jumped under your eye.

His glare didn't relent but the hard line of his scowl relaxed a little. Okay rude, what did he even think you were capable of doing in this sorry ass state? Plus, if you wanted him dead you would have just let him be.

Struggling not to roll your eyes, you pointed at one of the nastier burns on your chest, where your shirt was torn to shreds and practically fusing with the reddened, bloody skin. "I'm hurt," you exaggerated the word, widening your eyes meaningfully and frowning. "This will help me heal." You pointed at the contents of the first aid kit, before pointing back at your wound with a raised brow.

The Na'vi snorted at your slowed tone, rolling his shoulder in dismissal before occupying himself with something on a distant wall.

Annoyance surged through you, but it was brief and you let it go quickly with a sigh. Whatever, it was a good thing his suffocating attention was off of you now.

He never turned his back to you though, you noticed. Even now, you could tell he was still keeping tabs on you by the tension in his shoulders.

Well, maybe it was better that he still saw you as somewhat of a threat.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you grabbed a water bottle, soap solution and some gauze, bracing yourself for how much this was going to make you want to shit yourself. And you were pretty sure that the Na'vi would muster up the last of his strength and kill you himself if that actually happened, judging by his utter disgust and displeasure at your vomit.

Wetting a piece of gauze with water and soap, you brought it gingerly to the skin over your collarbone. Striking pain erupted at the point of contact, your jaw flexing to keep in any sounds.

Patting the gauze lower, you couldn't help but screech at the utter agony of it connecting with your open wound. Fuckity fuck fuck, that hurt like bitch on steroids.

When you blinked away the confetti in your vision, you caught the Na'vi's alarmed gaze, the space where his eyebrows should have been now furrowed and pointed ears pricked up and facing you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you muttered under your breath, before gritting your teeth as you forced your trembling hands to press the gauze pad over the rest of your wound. It took awhile and several rolls, but now every wound was cleaned, dressed, and if needed—stitched. Your head still throbbed uncontrollably in what was most definitely a nasty concussion, but you couldn't really ice it like you wanted to. By the time you were done, the sun had already started to set in the sky.

Your stomach rumbled in protest, and you grimaced. The intense pain had made you forget that you unfortunately needed sustenance to survive.

Time to take stock of your supply.

You dug through the duffle bag on your side, pulling out MRE kits and other field rations. You also found some plastic utensils and more water bottles and filters. Some of them were weirdly misshaped though, probably warped from the heat of the explosion.

You discarded those ones to the side with a frown. What a waste.

Ripping open an MRE pack, you mourned your microwave as you took a bite of room temperature tortellini. You just hoped that those in charge of the outer ring of base 36 came to your rescue sooner rather than later.

The rapidly familiarizing feeling of a piercing stare on you caused you to look up, your gaze locking onto narrowed baby blues. But they looked more curious than distrustful, this time.

You held up your meal pack, gesturing at him. "You want some?" You shook it in his direction meaningfully. "It's good." Lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Like most other living creatures, you were 99% sure he needed to eat to stay alive. And as far as you knew, he'd eaten nothing since you were both trapped. As long as he didn't try to eat you, you didn't mind sharing your rations. There was still quite a lot left, and you were pretty hopeful sure your fellow humans would have paid you a visit before you inevitably ran out.

His eyes widened minutely at the package, and you could see the barest predatory flash in his widening pupils, before he huffed, shooting you a disgusted look.

Your raised hand lowered as you gave him a deadpanned look. What a brat. Whatever, you shrugged, taking a quick breath as you lifted your mask. More for you then.

It was not even thirty minutes later that you realized your second dilemma.

That being, you had to tinkle. Real bad.

Goddamnit, this was embarrassing. You chanced a grimacing look at your companion, who was once again busy staring at a wall, but one ear was still turned towards you. No matter how weird this situation was, you had no desire to contribute to that factor by getting naked in front of a volatile, giant blue alien.

But you were nothing if not resourceful.

Goodbye, dignity, you sighed as you began hoisting yourself behind the pile of supplies and duffel bags you'd both stacked to take cover from the fire. You felt the Na'vi's wary gaze on you as you moved, but he hadn't felt the need to come and investigate, which you counted as a blessing.

Grabbing one of the warped water bottles, you poured out the toxic liquid on the concrete, before getting into position. Closing your eyes, you tried your hardest to pretend that you weren't trapped in a room with a strange alien man less than twenty feet away from you. You pictured your small, but warm toned bathroom, your toiletries lined neatly on the counter and a painting hanging over the towel rack.

Pretty soon you felt sweet relief as your aching bladder finally emptied its contents into the bottle. Your eyes blinked open, and you quickly cleaned yourself up, grimacing in embarrassment and disgust as you screwed back on the lid to the bottle and shoved it away from sight.

Well, that was over with.

By now, the room was bathed only in moon and starlight, the walls almost taking up a luminescence you would never be privy to on earth.

Your expression soured at the thought of your home planet. You didn't typically enjoy revisiting those memories, mostly because they were tainted with constant misery. The ashy smoke in the air, the dirt on your skin, the pangs of hunger deep into the night—you didn't want to think about it. You were far, far away from that life.

Although, you weren't quite sure if your current situation was much better.

With a wince, you scooted forward, peeking curiously around your makeshift wall of privacy. The Na'vi was curled on his side, still facing you, but now—surprisingly, his eyes had drifted shut, his expression finally peaceful in slumber. You held your breath, taking a moment to admire him.

Now that you weren't actively fearing for your life, you could really appreciate the wild beauty of this planet's native humanoid species. He looked like a mythical creature from a fantasy story, aqua blue skin shining like the glimmering shallow waters on a beach under the sunlight. You blinked a couple of times in shock, resisting the urge to rub them. No—wait, he was actually glowing.

At first you had thought it was the moonlight shining on his skin, but he seemed to be generating his own variation of bioluminescence instead. A beacon of otherworldly beauty, just like the rest of Pandora.

Incredible, you thought to yourself in awe, unable to look away. Your fingers itched with the sudden urge to start sketching him.

Suddenly, a pale, opalescent eye snapped open, glaring at you furiously. You yelped, almost falling backwards on your elbows.

His lip curled to reveal a snarl, his ears pinning down flat against his head in warning and his thick tail whipping restlessly in the air. The message was clear: mind your own business before I come over there and gouge your tiny eyes out. I'll do it—

"Okay, okay," you sighed, raising your hands in surrender. "I get it, I'm leaving."

You scooted away, back into your little alcove of duffel bags and random burnt junk. Lowering yourself onto the fluffiest looking one, you sighed, squirming uncomfortably as you stared at the scorched ceiling.

It didn't take long before your blinks became heavier and more frequent, your eyelids lowering more with each one. It seemed you were more exhausted that you thought.

When your breathing finally evened out, it was to the distinct feeling of a strong, steady heartbeat thrumming beneath you.

************

Y'all, I had way too much fun writing Ao'nung's pissy attitude XD. I can't picture his aggressive side eye without cracking up. Don't worry though, he'll eventually come around ;)

MRE: Meals ready to eat. Packaged meals meant for quick, convenient consumption. Used in the military.

If you’re not in the taglist already and you’d like to be, just let me know in the comments and I’ll tag you in the next part :)

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sleepsunawareof · 6 months

Text

Well like many, the Loki S2 finale has me still reeling and I have had this little drabble on my brain and had to get it out. I am not really a writer, I've not written a fic since I was a teenager probably lol so be easy on me but alas, I hope this is enjoyed by those who also just couldn't bear the thought of Loki being alone at the end of time forever.

Description: Loki uses his time slipping abilities to talk to you one last time before making the decision he knows he has to in order to save those he loves. But, you aren't so willing to let him condemn himself to an eternity alone, or yourself to a lifetime without him.

Word Count: 1367

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVENT SEEN LOKI S2 EP6!! Angst, sadness, happy ending mostly

••••••••••••••

"How are you doing this?", you asked as you watched strands of space and time float around you and Loki throughout A.D Doug's workshop.

"We're outside of time. Darling, I had to see you. I had to speak to you." Loki said, a sorrowful look on his face that you had never seen before. "The Loom, it was a failsafe all along. And no amount of scaling can account for infinite timelines. I thought we had it, I really did", he explained.

"Damnit, we should have known it would be...", you lamented.

"I spent centuries trying to figure it out, and it was all for nothing."

"Centuries?" you questioned.

"It's hard to explain" he responded. "Darling, there are only two options. Go back and kill Sylvie before she kills He Who Remains and allow the Sacred Timeline to continue--"

You cut him off. "You can't Loki! The Sacred Timeline is full of misery, injustice, and sadness - what the TVA stood for under He Who Remains was all wrong! We can't go back to that. And you know you could never kill Sylvie...not after everything we have all been through together."

"I know...", he said, a sad knowing in his voice and his eyes. "But there is one other way."

"And what's that?"

"Me".

"What? You? I don't understand Loki..." you said cautiously.

"The finite power of a machine can never handle the infinite timelines of a multiverse, but the infinite power of a God can", he said as he watched your face intently for any hint of reaction.

It took a moment as you stared at him, blinking. "Do you mean..." you questioned, as the realization of what he was saying started to set in.

"Yes, my love. Believe me, if there was any other way, I swear I would take it. But there isn't. I know what kind of God I need to be, for you, for all of us. It's the only way."

"Loki, if this is what you have to do, then please, take me with you at least!" you implored.

"My darling y/n, you know I can not do that. I must bear this burden alone, and you must go live your life on the timeline, the one you deserve to have. I could never condemn you to an eternity of solitude at the End of Time", he said sorrowfully.

"But you'll condemn me to a life of solitude on Earth? Loki, I can't live without you. There's no life for me down there if it's not with you! Please, as long as our friends are happy, and I'm with you, that's all I'll need. Please let me go with you!". The last part came out as a sob as your emotions got the best of you. You couldn't believe what he was talking about doing, the sacrifice he planned to make for the ones he loved.

"When I go back there, to that moment in time, you won't remember any of this. You won't know you said you wanted to go with me," he reminded you.

"Loki, every version of me across space and time would go with you. Even into the abyss, if that's where you have to go. I will follow you, I know I will!" you fully sobbed out as you threw your arms around him. The thought of him leaving you was killing you.

"They'll stop you if you try to follow me, you know that" he said, speaking of your friends back at the TVA.

"Then tell them not to Loki! Please, I'm begging. My place is beside you, always and forever, no matter where that place is."

And then Loki was gone and everything turned to spaghetti.

••••••••••••••

Loki slipped effortlessly back to just the right moment in the Loom control room, having been here in this moment over and over for centuries. This time though, it was different. This time, it was the last time. Loki looked over at you and his friends with a sad and knowing smile on his face. And then with one last look, he turned and ran down the stairs towards the blast doors. He knew he could keep you from following, lock the doors behind him with impenetrable magic. But he also knew that in your heart, you would never want to be without him. You would resent him forever if he left you on Earth alone.

You, Sylvie, and Mobius ran down the stairs after him immediately, but he was already through the airlock doors. The three of you watched Loki open the blast doors with his magic and start to step outside, absent of any protective suit. As you reached out to open the airlock door and go after him, Mobius pulled you back.

"Mobius, I have to go! I have to get to him!!!" you screamed.

"You can't! The temporal radiation will kill you if you open that door and go out there, you know that!"

"But it's going to kill HIM!" you cried out as you watched Loki walk out onto the walkway.

But something amazing started to happen. As the temporal energy shredded his TVA clothes away with every passing second, something else began to take it's place. Flowing dark green linen draped his form, traditional and humble shoes appeared on his feet, and a horned crown adorned his head. He looked absolutely Godlike and regal. As Loki walked closer to the Loom - this imperfect piece of machinery that took so much from so many - he lifted his hands, called upon his magic, and destroyed it in a flash of bright green and white light.

Then, there was darkness. Loki wasn't done, though. He reached out to grab a strand of time and suddenly it glowed back to life, his beautiful green magic allowing it to thrive. He grabbed another, and another. You, Mobius, and Sylvie stood silently in the airlock, watching as Loki brought the timelines back to life, one by one, gathering them in his hands. Above him, a chasm opened in the sky, revealing the End of Time. Loki looked back one last time at the 3 of you back in the airlock. He had no idea if you would really come after him like you said - but he wanted to see your face one last time if it was truly to be the last. Your eyes locked, and you knew now that the temporal energy was gone, there was no threat if you left the airlock.

"I have to go with him." you said to Mobius and Sylvie. "His worst fear is to be alone, and he is going to condemn himself to a lifetime of loneliness to save us all!" you said as you opened the door.

"Y/n, please! Stop! You don't know what you're giving yourself to." This time, it was Sylvie who pulled you back, holding your arm so you couldn't run down the walkway.

"Yes, I do. I'm giving myself to love. I'm giving myself to free will, to choice, to hope." you said.

"Sylvie, let her go," Loki called out. "It's going to be okay." he assured.

Sylvie let go of you hesitantly, and you started your walk out to Loki. When you reached him, he could not take your hand, but you took his arm. Together, you began to ascend the invisible stairs to the End of Time as he held the reanimated timelines in his hands. As you both crossed the threshold of the chasm to the End of Time, He Who Remains' throne and the ruins of his citadel came into view. Loki walked forward to the throne, the one he never wanted but was always destined to have. The timelines took on the beautiful form of a tree - Yggdrasil, the tree of life - the tree of the multiverse that Loki would tend to for eternity.

"This is where I'll have to stay forever, darling. I can never leave, never move. Tending to the timelines is my glorious purpose, my eternal burden. Are you truly willing to stay here with me?" he inquired.

"Yes, my love", you answered without hesitation.

"For all time?" He asked.

"Always".

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