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beskarandblasters · 3 months

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Was it all a dream?

Chapter One: Eyes without a face

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut (starts at chapter 4!), line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Where the strange dreams begin.

Word count: 3k

Chapter warnings: ominous dream shit and a creepy coworker

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You

Neon lights. Tall, looming buildings. Hoards of people whose faces you can’t make out. You can hear them talking all around you, but the words are jumbled into white noise.

In the distance, you spot a sign, brightly lit in Aurebesh. It’s a cantina. It’s somewhere that’s a refuge from the sea of faceless people you're trapped in. It takes all your might to push through the crowd, yet you don't feel the sensation of people colliding with you. The people don’t react to you knocking them out of the way. They’re mindless, limp bodies without a soul behind those eyes, those eyes you can’t see.

Your feet are heavy and every step you take requires all of your concentration, all of your power to keep you going. It feels like a triumph when you reach the front of the cantina. You turn back to where you came from, looking at the mess that should be there. But it’s as if nothing happened, the sea of people is moving as one, like the surface of water when it’s left undisturbed.

The door to the cantina opens and you go inside. Heads turn toward your direction as you make your way through the room. None of the faces are legible, just a soulless, blank expression. Your mind wants to search for something familiar in the distorted faces, a sign you’re interacting with real humans, real living things. But to no avail.

You sit down at the bar in the middle of the room. Everyone’s heads are turned towards you, watching as you order a drink from the bartender. His head tilts to the side, as if he can’t understand what you’re saying. Your order is coming out clear as day as far as you can tell. The bartender shakes his head and walks away, leaving you dumbfounded and irritated. You need this. You need a drink to take the edge off whatever’s happening right now. It feels like you’re alone and you’re left with this existential dread that has you questioning everything around you.

You look over to your right and a man is sitting across the bar. He sets his drink down on the counter, looking at you with warm, brown, intriguing eyes. The first set of eyes you’ve seen so far here.

You open your mouth to say something, anything. But before you can…

You wake up. The same dull gray ceiling is the first thing you see when you open your eyes.

It was all a dream.

You roll over to your nightstand and grab your journal and a pen, trying to remember the details of the strange dream you had before you start forgetting entirely. Jotting down bits and pieces of what happened, you try to make sense of what you saw; bright lights, cryptic-looking silent people, ominous buildings, and also… a man; the only person in your dream who had an actual face.

Who was he? And will you see him again?

No time to dwell on it now. Work is beginning soon and you’re already running late.

Getting ready for work, you’re still half asleep. Head in the clouds as you pull on your work uniform; gray slacks, a work jacket, black boots, and your badge. But once you’re ready for your shift and glance at the clock again, you realize you should’ve left a long time ago. You dash through the door and anxiously navigate the maze of tunnels, heading towards the shuttle to the surface. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss the last one for the day shift employees.

For anyone who’s not from Sullust, this maze would be impossible. Everywhere you turn looks exactly the same as where you just came from. But you’ve lived here your whole life, all you know are the tunnels, the common area, and the factory. For many cycles you’ve longed to breathe fresh air, feel the sun on your skin, the wind in your hair; the elements. You’re teased with them every day, watching from the securely enclosed factory. It looks beautiful on the surface with the sun shining innocently.

But the atmosphere on Sullust is toxic, its appearance deceiving. So, the native species, the Sullustans, were forced to go underground, building an interconnected web of tunnels sealed off from the surface. For being forced to live underground, the Sullustans did a good job making habitable places for the population, connecting lichen gardens to pools of potable water; a complex, underground labyrinth. It’s not a bad place to live by any means if you’re one of the wealthy Sullustans. You’re one of the only humans here and for as long as you can remember, you’ve been doomed to the caves. It makes you question how you got here in the first place. You have a theory you were sold to the SoroSuub Corporation as a child, raised to be a worker, another cog in the machine. But at night is when you’re free, letting your mind wander and aching for places you’ll never go to. Or ones that don’t exist at all.

You sprint towards the shuttle station, a dull, gray lift that takes you to the surface. It’s crowded, presumably all the people who overslept just like you did. But you can’t miss this. There’s not another shuttle after this and you don’t need to be reprimanded again at work. You push your way to the first car, but unlike the people in your dream, these people fight back, angrily shoving you with their elbows. You persist, fighting even harder towards the shuttle door.

Except now you’ve messed with the wrong person, elbowing a strong, burly man in the back. He turns towards you, towering over you and his brow furrowing in anger. You can’t even place who he is. He must work on a different floor than you do.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he shouts as if your elbow even hurt him at all.

“Catching the shuttle,” you say smugly.

You’re getting pushed into him by the crowd as it moves forward, head colliding with his chest. But before he can grab you or hit you, you feel a hand on the collar of your shirt pulling you down to another shuttle car and shoving you inside. You lean against the wall and take a deep breath, searching for whoever grabbed you. And when you see who it is your stomach sinks a little.

“You’re welcome,” your coworker, Shoan, says.

He’s a guy who works on your floor and in your department. You both make droid parts (specifically parts for GU-series Guardian Police Droids). He always finds ways to get closer and closer to your station. It’s gone past some cute little work crush and transformed into a full-blown obsession. And it doesn’t matter how much you complain to your boss, because SoroSuub cares about performance and Shoan has one of the best performance rates in the whole company. He’s not going anywhere, and they don’t care about your feelings.

“Thanks, I guess?”

“What do you mean? That guy was about to pummel you!”

“It’s a better alternative than being here with you.”

“Is that any way to treat someone who saved you?”

You roll your eyes and glance at the door that’s still open. You could leave and go home, returning to your favorite thing in the world; sleeping, dreaming. Can you afford one more write-up on your record?

Shoan stands beside you, talking your ear off about Maker knows what. You’re doing your best to drown him out, the sound of his voice shifting into white noise. Zoning out, staring at the open door, you contemplate each option. As you’re staring out into space something derails your thoughts entirely.

Those eyes, those brown eyes, are all you can think, all you can see. Who was that? And why are his eyes following you from your dreams? What was he trying to say? Was he trying to say anything at all? You could go back home and to bed in the hopes of seeing him again.

You waited too long. The door is closed and the shuttle is moving towards the surface. Those eyes distracted you, made you lose your grip on reality for a moment. Whatever, it’s something to make the day more interesting you suppose.

“Are you even listening to me?” Shoan asks, tapping you on the shoulder.

“No,” you roll your eyes, “And get your hands off me.”

As soon as the shuttle door opens you power walk into the factory, looking at the fleeting moment of sunshine until you’re enclosed in a metal box again. The atmosphere on Sullust is toxic due to the volcanoes littering the surface. The gasses released during eruptions made living on the surface not viable and short exposure to it extremely uncomfortable. The small amount of sunshine you do see is deceiving. For one, it means the volcanoes aren’t acting up for once. And two, the sunshine makes it look like the surface is normal and not so far out of reach.

You scan in with your badge and head to your post, not looking forward to the next eight hours of the most boring process in the world. Just as you’re about to assemble some central processors, your supervisor, Orran, stops you.

“Employee 5526, you’re being transferred to a different department.”

Kriff yes.

“To where?”

“Weapons unit. Report to floor five. You’ll receive further instructions there.”

You can’t get out of there fast enough. Finally, what you’ve been hoping and longing for has happened. You walk past Shoan’s station, taking note of the dumbfounded expression on his face. You’re excited for the new endeavor and to get away from Shoan, but you don’t know the first thing about assembling weapons.

You make your way to the fifth floor, staring up at the fluorescent light in the elevator. It’s just a short ride and you’re already zoning out. Head in the clouds whenever your attention is not occupied by something else.

There they are again. Those eyes, this time not in your head but in front of you, staring back down at you from the light above. Who do they belong to? And what are they trying to tell you?

The door opens and they’re gone. It’s going to be hard to focus today.

The rest of your shift is relatively boring. You’ve been assigned to assemble JSP-14 Pistols and Mk IX Bayonets. There’s sort of a learning curve that comes with constructing them. But your new supervisor informed you that you have a week to get the hang of it.

You’re on your way home now, leaning against the wall of the shuttle and anxiously awaiting to be home already. There’s so much you have to do between making dinner, doing your laundry, and taking a shower in the refresher.

But all you want to do is sleep. Not even from being tired, but from wanting to explore more of your dreams, wanting to find those eyes.

That’s exactly what you do, collapsing onto your bed and letting sleep overtake you. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll meet those brown eyes again.

Din

The first thing Din sees when he opens his eyes is the top of his bunk– another morning waking up alone. Another morning without Grogu’s soft babbling coming from the hammock above.

Din doesn’t normally remember his dreams. For him, it’s just inky blackness from the moment his head hits the pillow until the moment he wakes up. Lately, he’s been remembering more and more minor details like a color, a smell, or a feeling. Nothing concrete. It’s all very abstract, things deep in his subconscious that for some reason are forcing themselves up to the surface.

This time, he recalls a color, one so bright it hurt his eyes a little bit. It was neon pink, not too different from the colors he’d seen lighting up signs on the streets of Coruscant. But that’s all he can remember, a color and nothing more.

He rolls out of the bunk, standing and stretching as much as he can in the cramped space. His time here has been quieter, lonelier ever since Grogu went to train with the Jedi. He’s spent most of his life alone, but the addition of Grogu filled a void he didn’t know he had. And now that he’s gone, the void is bigger, louder, and making sure its presence is known.

He pulls on his helmet and drags his feet to the ladder in the Crest, hoping that he’s somewhat close to Nevarro. He’s been collecting bounties here and there, doing his best to keep busy while also gathering tips on where the new Mandalorian covert is. He’ll settle into his normal routine once he lands; drop the bounty off, collect his credits, check the Razor Crest, and try to not stare at the inside of the metal box too long, not long enough where he wants to bash his head in.

It goes exactly like he expected. Karga’s men remove the bounty while Din suffers through Karga’s pleasantries. Din never particularly cares for small talk, but lately, he can’t stand it. His patience has slimmed; all he wants is to drop the bounty, collect the credits, take a new job, and move on.

But today, Karga says something out of the ordinary.

“Where’s your little green friend?”

Din’s eye twitches underneath his helmet. He’s not in the mood to talk about Grogu, especially not here, not now.

“With his own kind,” Din says stiffly, not wanting to delve into the topic much further than that.

“Well here’s your pay,” Karga says, sliding a bag of credits across the table towards Din.

“Got another one?” Din asks.

“So eager. You don’t want a break?”

“...No,” Din says, wanting this interaction to end already.

“I have a special job anyway. Here,” he says, sliding the tracking fob to Din, “Kaba Baiz, runs a meatpacking plant on Glavis Ringworld. You’ll bring him to the guild master there, an Ishi Tib, instead of bringing him to Nevarro. Dead or alive.”

Interesting. Karga’s guild doesn’t normally deal with other guilds in the galaxy, helping them coordinate jobs like this.

“Why can’t they just get someone from their guild to do it?”

“They asked for you specifically. They also have some information you might find valuable. But only after you secure the bounty.”

Din sighs. It’s an annoyed sigh and Karga picks up on that.

“They have information that might lead you to the Mandalorian covert.”

That certainly grabbed his attention.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Din says, taking the fob and sliding out from the booth.

“Good luck,” Karga nods.

Din responds with a silent tip of his helmet before leaving, anxious to get a move on. He’s never been to Glavis Ringworld before. He’s never dealt with another guild before. It’s all new territory for him, but he can’t complain. This is what he wanted after all.

He does his usual routine check-up on the Crest before searching for the Glavis Ringworld coordinates. He takes off and the routine is so ingrained in his mind, in his memory, that it doesn’t require much thought or care at all. To put it simply, he’s so kriffing bored all the time.

Once he’s in hyperspace, he realizes… he’s tired again. But how is that possible? He just woke up not that long ago…

But that slumber wasn’t normal. If anything, he woke up even more tired, as if he’d lived a thousand lives in the few hours he was asleep. He doesn’t think too much of it now, attributing it to stress or some unresolved feelings he’s not ready to address.

Giving in to his wants, he slumps down the ladder and into his bunk, only taking off his helmet and his jetpack before flopping down onto the small cot.

As he sleeps, he’s aware he’s dreaming this time, something that’s not normal for him. He recognizes where he is, too. He’s on Nevarro, wandering around the marketplace. He looks down and his pouch is absent from his dream– no Grogu.

Typical, he thinks to himself.

The wind blows through his hair.

He’s not wearing his armor, not even his flight suit. In fact, none of his clothes seem normal. He’s wearing all black, everything from his shirt to his pants to his boots. For some reason, he still has his blaster attached to his belt but notably absent is the Darksaber.

It doesn’t matter. This is just a dream, he tells himself.

That still doesn’t quell the voice in the back of his head telling him how wrong this is. But he has to remind himself that the outfit sans helmet was not his idea. At least not consciously, that is.

He looks around and everything seems just how it always is. The sun is shining. The buildings look the same. The stands are stocked with various goods. Looks like a typical day in the marketplace. Except for one thing.

There are no people around.

He walks slowly, on guard and waiting for something to happen, keeping his hand on the handle of his blaster. It’s ominous being here alone. It gives him an uneasy feeling that something is coming, something is out to get him. But he couldn’t be more wrong.

As he turns a corner, he runs right into something– someone. Standing before him is a woman. She’s beautiful, the sun beaming down and hitting the high points of her face. Her lips are shiny and her eyes are kind and inviting. What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t typically notice small details about women in real life. What is it about the dream realm and you that makes him so observant, so keen on details?

He opens his mouth to ask who you are.

And then he wakes up, staring at the metal ceiling yet again.

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#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #din djarin series #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 29 days

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Soulmate Aus

Requested: No

Warnings: Discrimination based on tattoos and brief description of kidnapping

Ghost - His scars as tattoos

Twisted and burned flesh blooming into roses along your chest, deep cuts and gaping holes turned into pitch black stars that shone on your skin, drawing all sorts of attention that you hated to have on you. The whispers that follow after in your shadow leave you nauseous and uneasy. Marks, given to you by your soulmate. Barbed wire in a slash across your throat, stitch like markings on either side of your mouth like a permanent smile, thorny vines and skulls and knives littered throughout your body. That wasn’t even speaking to what might be on your back, too afraid to ask anyone or try and even maneuver to see it in a mirror.

Making friends was hard, making money even harder. They said you scared people, that you looked unprofessional. But you managed, you got by. Found work in the back of a butcher shop, so far removed from the customer service section that no one would ever even catch a glimpse of you. Straight to work then straight home, maybe a chat or two with one of your gruffer co-workers, those just as covered in tattoos as you were. Those who got it, who understood you in a way no one else seemed to.

It was in one of those conversations that you got invited out for drinks, something you regretted accepting as soon as the words had left your mouth. But it was too late, your friends already abuzz with excitement at you joining them. Assuring your that this joint was filled with people like yourself.

And they didn’t lie. Every glance you took of the place revealed someone who appeared to be in a similar state to yourself. A man with a black dagger going over his eye, little blood droplets making a trail like tears down to his chin. A woman with snakes peaking all around her hairline, their tails curving along her jaw and intertwining on her chin and down her neck. Most you couldn’t make out except for giant globs of black ink painting their face. It was reassuring, putting you at real ease for the first time in a long time. Relaxed enough to have a drink, then another, then another, laughing along with some corny joke the bartender was telling when a big man sat beside you, some surgical mask over the lower half of his face, the hood of his jacket over the upper half. But it revealed just enough for you to make eye contact with him when he glanced your way, feeling the world shift beneath you and crumble away.

Soap - Colorblind until you touch your soulmate

Shades of grey. White and black, sometimes you think you might be seeing colors, something just a hint different then the usual monochrome of your existence but you turn your head….and it’s nothing, just more of the same. It was fine when you were younger, when everyone your age saw things the same way. When you were, in this sense, just like everyone else. But things changed, you got older. Your classmates changed, met their people. People who became friends, family, lovers. Their closest confidants. Their soulmates.

And you were left behind, drifting further and further from the people who you, at one point, might have called your friends. Unable to escape their giggles and whispers of seeing color, the wonder in their voice when they described how vibrant everything seemed, that shift in their eyes. And then afterwards, getting to know the person that held that other half of their soul, it was almost as emotional for them all. But you, you were left without that.

For a time you could convince yourself that it could still happen, that you could find that person, that you would be able to see what your peers did. Eventually.

But time moved, it changed, and your vision stayed the same. Unable to witness the beautiful colors of the flowers that line your driveway, the shimmering scales of fish in the pet shop, the color of a soulmate’s eyes.

You gave up after a few years after secondary school. Defeated and broken down, chipped away at by your school mate’s whispers about how you still hadn’t met your soulmate, the only one in your grade that hadn’t. You convinced yourself that you didn’t have a soulmate. That you were just one soul, not intertwined with anyone.

Or maybe they were dead.

That was the thought that haunted you, no matter how much you tried to tell yourself that it was just you. That you were different. Or that maybe you just hadn’t met them yet. It would keep you up at night, nightmares of a faceless person reaching out to you, only to fall short, darkness swallowing them whole, drifting farther and farther away no matter how much you ran after it. Always just out of reach.

It was one of those nights when you decided to take a walk, shaking hands shoved into your coat pockets and neck slick with sweat, just wandering aimlessly when you bumped shoulders with some guy you hadn’t even seen til last second.

“Ey, watch where you’re-” He started, only to stop, anger leaking into worry. “Oi, you okay?”

“Piss off-” You snapped in return, whipping around to face the man, only to freeze, eyes locked onto his, both of your pupils’ widening, visions shifting. “What….what fucking color is that?” You whisper when the grey of his irises shifted to something vibrant, bordering on overwhelming.

“Been told that they’re something called blue.” He breathed.

Gaz - His name on your wrist

Gaz.

The name written on your wrist, messy chicken scratch that resembled scribbles more than actual writing. It was confused for dozens upon dozens of other names growing up, but this one. Gaz. It resounded in your skull in a way none of the other nicer or more normal sounding ones did. It rolled off your tongue, appeared in your dreams, a whisper in your ear that just wouldn’t fade away.

Gaz.

For someone with such an unusual name, he was certainly hard to find. Everywhere you went, everywhere your friends and family went, they asked if they ever heard of anybody named Gaz, only to come up with zilch. Nada. Nothing. A needle in a haystack but it seemed the needle grew legs and ran away, or maybe even just got dropped into a wormhole somewhere. It was an unhealthy and depressing thought but it was what came to mind when you became overwhelmed with it, consumed by thoughts of an elusive soulmate that you might not be finding just because you keep getting stuck on what you think his name is instead of any of the other possibilities that it could be. It was days like this that you wanted to find your soulmate just to strangle them for their shitty handwriting that would brand you for your entire life. Written on your flesh in a deep black.

Gaz.

It was during one of these times where one of your friends asked to set you up on a blind date. A cousin of theirs, good looking they’d said. Sweet guy in the military, on break for now. If nothing else, he’d make for a good shag to take your mind off of the whole soulmate ideal. It was with great reluctance that you accepted, dressed in a semi formal/semi casual outfit for a date at a place that was a few steps above a Maccy’s but nothing michelin star worthy. Not too formal, not too casual.

And the guy was nice, introducing himself as Kyle. Shook your hand and pulled out your chair for you, letting you set the pace for the date. Made you laugh, his eyes sparkling at every chuckle you couldn’t contain. He seemed too good to be true, and you agreed to a second date despite the name inked onto your wrist.

A second date led to a third led to movie nights led to slow kisses under the sheets led to moving in together led to meeting his friends, his brothers in arms. Where, for the first time, you heard them shout his callsign.

Gaz.

Hearing it from someone else was sweeter than any of the times you’d whisper it to yourself at night.

Alejandro - The first words he says to you written on your wrist

“Now what’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?”

Possibly the blandest soulmate question anyone could ever have written on their arm, looping cursive that was on the edge of appearing just a little hard to leave. The question itself may be awfully common but the handwriting was not. It was something you liked about your soulmate, tracing the letter with your thumb over and over and over until you were sure you could perfectly write out every elegant letter with your eyes closed.

It was what you were doing now, scared and curled up into a ball after being kidnapped by some drug lord or other. No matter how much you tried to plead that they had the wrong person, that you didn’t even know who they were, it didn’t matter. They snatched you up all the same, tossing you in this grimy cell and leaving you on your lonesome. You were scared, terrified. You wondered if you’d die before you even had the chance to meet your soulmate, all because they nabbed the wrong person.

It felt like weeks, but surely must have only been days, before you saw another person again, hazy, on the brink of a sleep you weren’t sure you were going to wake up from. Your eyes were heavy, so much so that they almost didn’t have the power to open again when the door slammed open, the rushing of feet following, the whoosh of fabric as someone knelt beside you and pressed their fingers to your throat, checking for your pulse.

“Now what’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?” A voice whispered, an arm curving under your knees and another cradling the back of your head, a warm body pressing against you, offering you the first real source of comfort you’d had since you were taken.

“I think I’m dying of thirst.” You mumble, voice a shaky slur. So out of it that you didn’t feel the man pause for a moment before gripping you tighter.

“Probably, Amor.” He says, voice more strained now. There were more sounds now, more stomping and heavy doors slamming. It was hurting your head. “But we’ll fix you right up. Get something for you to drink.” He says, his voice fading for a moment before he said “I’m Alejandro, by the way.”

You weren’t sure the babble that left your mouth before you passed out was any sort of comprehendable to him.

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Alejandro Vargas #alejandro vargas x reader

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 months

Text

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

TWO: G & G.

You know that there are those in the world who strike fear into people’s hearts and souls.

But you’ve never seen anyone react to a single human being the way they do the duo that struts into the bar in their leather cowboy boots.

You’ve never seen the saloon so quiet and still before then when the duo steps into the scene. A tumbleweed could blow by with how silent it is.

Everyone’s eyes stay planted on the tall, handsome men oozing with confidence and intimidation standing among the swinging doors, appearing like sexy phantoms in the night.

There stands Geto Suguru, the 6’4 long-haired gunslinger with the perfect, black locks that cascade down his broad shoulders and back, seductive eyes, and skillful hands that he hides behind two riding gloves.

He usually is seen riding a black Bronco that is just as big as him and sporting a black cape with black riding pants, boots, and a low-brim cowboy hat. Black fits him so damn well. The only thing that isn’t black on him is the red vest that is so low-cut that you can see the outline of his pecs.

Beside him is his partner (and lover as it’s rumored) Gojo Satoru, the lean, confident, cocky, blindfolded bandit standing at 6’3 with snow-white hair, a sly smile, leather gloves that hide some skillful and deadly hands, and a blindfold covering his eyes that have never been seen but are said to make a man go cold with fear where he stands.

In contrast to Geto, the white-haired cowboy is doused in colors: a denim jacket that matches his slacks where a star-shaped belt buckle hangs from his crotch; brown boots with spurs; a red bandana wrapped around his neck; and a white cowboy hat sits low on his head. He, too, has his own horse: a brown Bronco that is recognizable from its hooves clicking across the ground.

They are a match made in heaven and hell. Handsome, skillful, and deadly. They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their pistols. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties.

Everyone knows them and so do you.

If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!”

“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they had been arrested!”

And they did, last year. At some point, the articles of gunslingers, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with their connection to your boss.

“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?”

“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.”

“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”

Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons.

The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you.

Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in their wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the cowboys settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?”

He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?”

“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.”

Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?”

His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply.

He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?” You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.”

A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.”

You swallow hard, so sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that order, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks.

You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.”

Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle, Satoru. We won’t be here long.”

‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers.

“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is,” he says.

You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your BF and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye.

But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is Kenzo, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.

Valentine, a criminal on the lamb and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again.

He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all of its employees and riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a male prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys.

You were hot on his trails when he showed up Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented those. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history.

“I’ve heard of him, yes,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass.

“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone in it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.”

Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from down at the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.”

She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How about you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?” You look down, studying Valentine’s face.

You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?”

You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains.

“And for personal business,” Gojo adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.”

He doesn’t need to go any more into detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.”

‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink.

“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.”

You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles. “I see not with you,” he replies.

“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”

You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been around gunslingers in my time.”

At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”

Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.”

You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even your first love! The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots.

“Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?”

Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.”

He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains. “Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him.

Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold covering his eyes. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.”

Geto nods and nudges to Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.”

His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drinks and yours,” he says with a crooked smile. “Have a good night, little miss.”

Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it. It takes a moment to get your head back, but once you do, you down the rest of your drink and get up from your seat. Shoko catches your eye and gives you a look, her eyes telling you a message:

“Don’t get caught,” she warns you. “And don’t get killed.”

You nod, blowing her a kiss, before following your boss and the duo upstairs.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love

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humanpurposes · 7 months

Text

It Will Come Back

Chapter 1, You Know Better

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, drinking, recreational drug use, manipulation (I guess?)

Words: 5800

A/n: Please make sure you read the warnings. If any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable feel free to give it a miss 🫶 Also serves as my (very very late) entry for Week 1 of the literary prompts for @hotd-bigbang

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” -Wuthering Heights

6 years earlier...

Jaya leaned on her shoulder against the wall by the side door, waiting as inconspicuously as she could despite the fact she was dressed in a black crop top, skirt and pumps. Clearly, she had no intention of spending the evening at home.

She shifted her weight on her feet, pulled at the hem of her crop top and checked the pocket of her black denim jacket; pocket mirror, lipgloss, eyeliner, and the vintage lighter Aemond had slipped into her hands a few months ago. Every time she tried to give it back he wouldn’t take it. She smiled to herself as she traced her thumb over the engraving of a three headed dragon in the silver plating. He said he had found it in his father’s study years ago, but Viserys had enough of them to not notice that one had gone missing, apparently.

She froze when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and through the hallway. They were too light to be Laenor’s, too quick to be Rhaenyra’s, too cautious to be Luke or Joff.

Jace appeared through the archway, a red blazer thrown over his shoulder, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the top to show off two chains, one gold, one silver. His perfectly white sneakers hardly made a sound against the hardwood floors. He tutted when he saw her.

“What?” she said, tightening her grip on the lighter in her pocket.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jaya had a few memories of their apartments at the Red Keep. She considered the humbly named Queen’s Lodge to be the only home she had ever known. The house sat on a large estate in the corner of Queen’s Park, not too far from the centre of King’s Landing, but removed from the noise and chaos of the city. The front looked out over immaculately kept gardens while the back of the house was for leisure, the patio, the pool and the tennis court beyond that. The side door Jaya and Jace found themselves passing through every Friday night led out to a small orchard of apple trees.

Summer was fast approaching but the night air was far from warm. Once Jace had locked the door from the inside latch and pocketed the spare key, Jaya led him down the barely visible path, down to a denser grove of older, taller trees, to the iron fence that bordered the entire estate. Jace hoisted her up and over the fence before clambering after her.

Where the daylight saw countless people passing through the park, the Velaryon twins walked through darkness and silence along the boardwalk, down to the gates that were locked every day at sunset.

Well, almost silence. Jace walked a few paces behind his sister, huffing and sighing pointedly.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Jaya said over her shoulder, a fact she reminded him of every week.

“I’m not going to let you go alone,” Jace said.

She tried to appreciate the intention, but having him dragging his feet behind her, constantly complaining when he could just stay home was frankly getting exhausting.

“I won’t be alone,” she said, checking the last few texts on her phone.

The first read, Here.

Which was soon followed by, Hurry up. It’s fucking cold :)

Jaya giggled to herself and looked ahead. The gate was coming into view now, and so were the two girls waiting by it.

They were both dressed in black, Sabby in a mini dress trimmed with lace, Alyssane in flared jeans, a Vivienne Westwood top and a pearl necklace.

“Did you not think to bring a jacket, Sabs?” Jaya grinned as Jace helped her over the gate.

“It’s strategic,” Alysanne said, “she’ll complain she’s cold and some cool, sexy economics student will offer her his jacket.”

“Politics,” Sabby said, reaching to help Jaya as she slipped down. “Gods, you must be the first person to ever say ‘cool’, ‘sexy’ and ‘economics student’ in the same sentence.”

From the park it was only a short walk to the bus stop, and a matter of minutes until they reached Conquest Street. Jaya loved it, the energy buzzing in the streets as they passed the pubs and bars, music pulsing from every direction, people laughing and shouting to make themselves heard.

From there she knew the way to Maegor’s Square without thinking. A few people lingered around the garden at the centre of the square and some leaned over the balconies in their aparments, smoking cigarettes and sipping expensive booze from mismatched glasses.

Then they came to the townhouse on the corner, with the emerald green door and the gold knocker in the shape of a dragon’s head. A bit on the nose, but their family were hardly known for their subtlety.

“I can’t believe you got us an invite to one of Aegon’s parties,” Alysanne hissed excitedly into her ear.

It was nothing really, Aegon wasn’t picky about the company he kept, and if anything, he liked picking up waifs and strays.

Jaya smiled as she checked her makeup in her pocket mirror. “Well, I am his favourite niece,” she said, smudging out the eyeliner in the corners of her eyes.

“You’re his only niece,” Jace grumbled.

“Exactly, no room for competition,” Jaya said, before applying another swipe of red lipgloss over her lips. “How do I look?” she asked the three of them.

Alysanne and Sabby immediately responded with praise that just seemed to float through her.

Jace tilted his head. For a moment Jaya thought she saw pity in her brother’s eyes.

“Beautiful,” he said, “you’re always beautiful.”

Jaya tutted. She didn’t mean her, she meant the makeup.

She tapped the knocker four times before being greeted by a haze of smoke, the smell of liquor and a slow psychedelic rock song playing from another room. The door had been opened by Arryk Cargyll, one of Aegon’s uni friends. He had a glass of clear liquid and ice in his hand and a cigarette hanging in the corner of his mouth. He hugged Jaya tightly and she beamed back, making a point to ask about his upcoming internship at Lannister Legal. He seemed impressed that she had remembered.

“Third year law,” she said to Alysanne and Sabby. “And he has a twin brother, Erryk. Politics,” she added with a wink. The girls giggled.

Jace settled for a quick handshake and a nod.

“Friends from school?” Arryk asked as he greeted the girls.

“Yeah, we’re all at Peremore’s,” Alysanne said, slotting herself beside him with a well-practised smile. They had another few weeks of classes before their final exams, but they all had their university applications confirmed.

Arryk led them through the bodies lingering in the hallway, into the kitchen and Alysanne began the usual routine of telling him what she studied– Politics, Psychology and Literature– and her plans to do Law at Vale. Sabby looked a little sour.

Jaya made herself at home, leaning against the black marble countertop, grinning to herself as Arryk suggested opening a bottle of champagne. He poured out four glasses, keeping one for himself, handing one each to Sabby and Alysanne. He went to give the fourth to Jaya then looked to Jace with a look of embarrassment.

“It’s fine,” Jace said shortly, “I’ll get myself a beer–”

“Jacey boy!” a theatrical voice called as the double glass door to the garden swung open. Aegon Targaryen swept into the room with a cold breeze, slapping his hand down on his nephew’s shoulder.

Jaya briefly glanced around the room, searching for another head of silver hair. Her heart sank a little when she didn’t find it.

The angles of Aegon’s face made him look severe, especially when he smiled, but it was countered by his wide violet eyes with a softer, sadder look. He looked at Jaya, with a firm hand on Jace’s shoulder, and smiled. She smiled back.

“Made it at last,” Aegon said as Jace shrugged him off. “I thought you two were getting here early.”

“No I told you,” Jaya said, nodding to her friends, “I brought guests.”

Aegon could turn charm on like a switch. His voice suddenly took on a richer tone as he introduced himself to the girls, shaking their hands and pressing light kisses to their knuckles.

Jace plucked a green bottle from the fridge and began to drink, scowling at everyone between sips.

“Could you at least look like you’re having fun?” Jaya muttered into his ear as he settled beside her against the counter.

“What’s fun about this?” he replied.

She supposed she knew what he meant. These parties weren’t always as exciting as she wanted them to be, watching other people get wasted, sitting through not-entirely-sober lectures from Aegon’s friends, which really just felt like they were getting off to the sound of their own voices. It could be quite intimidating sometimes, but this was just how adults had fun.

She had this vision that one day something would just click. All the boring parts of parties would seem fun, the drinks wouldn’t taste as strong, the mindless small talk with people she didn’t know would make sense, the music wouldn’t feel so loud.

For now she had her own reason for coming to Maegor’s Square every Friday night.

Her heart hummed when she heard footsteps coming from the hallway. A few voices muttered vague greetings which were met by a distant “hmm.”

“Why haven’t you got a drink yet, Jaya?” Aegon asked and she realised she had yet to take the champagne from Arryk.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped and a thrill slipped down her spine. Someone was looming behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck and the heat radiating from his body.

“She’ll have some of this,” a low but soft voice said, holding out a glass of red wine in front of her. She recognised his hand, the veins and the tendons prominent underneath pale skin. The silver signet ring on his little finger, engraved with a three headed dragon. The scent of his perfume, woody and green, lingering with the smell of tobacco.

Jaya took the glass with her fingertips, trying to hide her delight as she turned over her shoulder to face him. Aemond gazed down at her with a gentle look in his blue eyes and the corners of his mouth curled into a small smile.

“What is it?” she asked, bringing it to her lips.

“It’s Dornish,” he said, “you’ll like it.”

She wasn’t sure if she liked it, so much as she could swallow it without wincing, but Aemond always seemed so happy when she liked the things he gave her. His eyes were fixed on her face as she took three small sips, and wiped away the red imprint of her lipgloss on the rim. It was sour and it left a slight burn on her tongue. She muttered an apology about the lipgloss but he didn’t seem to mind, drinking from the other side of the glass when he took it back.

She kept her back to the others as Aegon, Arryk and the girls all became better acquainted. She stayed as close to Aemond as she dared, her chest a few inches from his, her neck craning to look up at him even with her heels.

“I missed you while you were away,” she said, fighting the urge to fiddle with the fabric of her skirt or the polished surface of her red painted nails.

Aemond’s mother liked to whisk her children away every year for a few weeks around spring break, usually to join the rest of the Hightower family at Honeywine Hall, an old manor house in the mountains. It sounded perfect, hiking, horse trails, swimming in reservoirs and trips into Oldtown. She lived as vicariously as she could through Aemond’s nightly phone calls and the souvenirs he had sent her, the postcards, the photographs and even a book he had found in a second-hand shop in Oldtown, a special edition of Wuthering Heights with gold lettering on a patterned cover.

She and Aemond exchanged any details they might have missed from their phone calls. She liked watching him talk, the way his lips moved, the bashful way he would avert his eyes from hers when he felt himself going off on a tangent. Equally she liked the way he watched her when it was her turn to speak, the brightness of his eyes, his almost smug expression and the smile lines in his cheeks.

“Oh!” she gasped, feeling her eyes going wide, “and I read Wuthering Heights.” Of course she had. She had devoured it within days of receiving the parcel from him.

Aemond smiled and her heart ignited. Most of the books she read came at his recommendation.

“What did you think?” he asked, trailing the tip of his index finger up and down his glass.

“I mean, you know how I feel about classics, and I suppose it was rather difficult to get into at first, but it was…” she gestured vaguely with her hand while she tried to think, before she settled on “haunting.”

“Haunting,” he echoed. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“In a beautiful way.”

His eyes were on hers, his lips settled into a look of calm content, perhaps even pride. She hoped it was pride.

“It was so vivid. I loved the longing and the hopelessness,” she said.

Aemond laughed quietly at that, taking another sip of wine and drawing the tip of his tongue over his lips. “I knew you’d like it, you love the doom and gloom.”

If she did, it was because he had taught her to. They liked all the same things, classic fiction, horror movies, cold weather, black coffee, quiet moments during loud parties when their eyes would meet in understanding, or recognition that they were two people whose souls were the same.

She had to bite down her fury with her tongue between her teeth when someone else came along to steal Aemond’s attention. Rickard Thorne, she thought the guy’s name was, one of Aemond’s coursemates.

Jaya’s tactic for parties was to keep moving. She took Sabby by the hand and nodded at Jace, suggesting they move into the lounge. Alysanne had firmly been lost to Arryk; somehow she had turned a conversation about paralegal internships into flirting and Jaya was rather impressed.

She felt like she was good at this by now, starting conversations with the young and beautiful of the city’s elite, most of whom were students at the university– and spending a lot of these parties by Aemond’s side, she had picked up enough to converse with even the most pretentious of politics students. But it was her birthright to belong in a place like this. She didn’t have the silver hair or the violet eyes, but everyone knew who she was before she could tell them. She could see it in their eyes as she introduced herself. You’re Rhaenyra Targaryen’s daughter.

Each venture into the kitchen came with a stop by the assortment of bottles on the counter, but she mostly stuck with the arbour red. When she couldn’t find any more bottles of that, she and Sabby found a sickly sweet rosé that was easier to drink.

She checked the time at midnight, feeling a pleasant haze fall over her. She could hardly stop giggling at everything, at Sabby’s struggle to pour a drink and ending up with more wine on the counter than in her glass, at the couples in the hallway trying to suffocate each other with their mouths and bodies. She wandered through the house without knowing where she wanted to go, and squinted at the head of brown curls buried into the neck of Loras Tyrell. Shit. Well at least Jace was having some fun now.

She ended up in the dining room at the front of the house. This seemed to be where most of the fun was happening. There was a black leather sofa by the door, where Alysanne was sitting between Arryk and Aegon. They were sharing a bottle of vodka between them and whispering into each other’s ears between swigs.

In the centre of the room was a vintage mahogany table. A small group gathered around it, spectating an apparently gripping game of chess. Sitting over the white pieces was one of the Tully brothers, and over the black pieces was Aemond.

He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, leaning with his elbows on the table and swirling a glass of whisky as he considered his next move. A mischievous smirk graced his lips as he glanced up at his opponent, and raised his hand to move a piece. Their audience gasped and muttered amongst themselves in awe.

Aemond’s eyes met hers across the room. His hair had fallen slightly, the edges forming a curtain over his forehead. He smiled into his drink. This was his version of a few too many, challenging people to chess games and breaking out the expensive liquor.

She suddenly felt proud, then embarrassed, and turned back to the sofa.

Aegon was placing a pill on Alysanne’s tongue while Arryk handed her the vodka to wash it down. She winced but managed to swallow it.

Aegon caught Jaya’s eye. “Want one?” he asked, looking at her with his chin tilted down and his overgrown hair falling around his eyes. It looked less charming than Aemond’s, more messy than effortless.

The grin on his face made her feel uneasy. She had always been an observer of these habits, never a participant. She meant to ask what it was he had given Alysanne and the question was on the tip of her tongue—

“Zaldrīzītsos,”

Her head snapped back to Aemond without hesitation. He was turned away from the table a little, a dark, almost furious expression on his face. She wondered why, surely she hadn’t done anything wrong? He beckoned her over with a single finger but she was already walking towards him.

When she was close enough, Aemond wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. She burned where their skin met, especially when his hand came to hold her side, fingertips pressing into her flesh.

“Now,” he muttered into her ear and she shuddered at the sensation of his breath over her neck. “I want your help with something. Tell me you see what I’m seeing.”

She dragged her attention to the board and the pieces upon it. It almost felt like a test, but she had no intentions of disappointing him.

It wasn’t entirely obvious at first, they seemed to be pretty evenly matched, but then she saw it. A discrepancy in Tully’s game. She played through a few moves in her head, just like Aemond had taught her.

She turned her head back to Aemond with the beginnings of a smile. With his knowing look she knew she had it figured out.

She looked across the board at the Tully boy. “Checkmate in three,” she said.

His eyes widened and looked down frantically. “You’re bluffing,” he said, “you’re having me on, there’s no fucking way–”

“Do the honours for me, would you?” Aemond’s voice whispered in her ear, giving her waist a slight squeeze.

She couldn’t help but grin as she went to move one of Aemond’s pieces.

And suddenly Tully saw it too. “Shit,” he said. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” He tried desperately to counter with his Queen.

Jaya made the second move triumphantly, pitifully met by Tully’s attempt to save the game, but it was already won.

When she reached for the final move, Aemond’s hand wrapped around hers. “I started the game, only fair that I finish it, yes?”

She could hardly find the breath to reply. “Yes,” she uttered, letting Aemond guide her hand into her lap before he moved the final piece.

“Checkmate,” he said coolly, flicking over Tully’s King with his finger.

He would have won either way, but Jaya was happy to have even just a small share in his victory. But then with the game over, she supposed she didn’t have a reason to stay so close to him.

Aemond brought his face before hers, until the tips of their noses barely touched. “Good girl for spotting that,” he murmured.

His praise hit her like electricity. For a moment she thought she was going to lose her balance, bracing herself with a palm on his thigh as he brought both hands to her waist. She was steady. She was stable.

“How much have you had?” Aemond asked with a smirk.

“Gods, uncle, why do you have to sound so self-righteous?” she huffed, bringing her hands to the silky material of his shirt. She watched her hands glide over his chest, delicately and effortlessly. The top few buttons were undone, baring his neck. She thought about running her finger along it, down to the hollow spot in his collar bone. Or she could trail it along his jaw, over the sight hint of stubble she could see. Then she could let her thumb linger on his lip– Gods she loved his lips and the smile lines around his mouth.

A soft but startling noise brought both of their attention to the sofa. Sabby was here now too, but she was talking to Alysanne– no she was leaning over her, or was she trying to pull her up? Arryk and Aegon were on their feet, in some sort of argument.

Jaya frowned, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. “What are they–”

Aemond pushed her onto her feet by her waist. Now that she wasn’t sitting down she felt dizzy but she clung onto a chair to keep her balance.

Aemond was kneeling beside Alysanne and pulling her hair from her face while she was sprawled out on the sofa. Sabby was shouting at Aegon and Arryk.

Jaya felt more sober with each step she took towards them. She was hit with a boozy, sour smell and realised that the front of Alysanne’s top was drenched with what looked like water, but was trailing from her mouth. She was crying, and when Jaya got close enough, she saw her hands were trembling.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Jace’s voice bellowed from the doorway. He rushed forward and Aemond was by Jaya’s side before Jace could shove him away.

Jaya was frozen, even as Aemond curled his arm around her shoulder.

“She’ll be fine,” Aegon was saying, “she's just had a bad reaction, she can sleep it off.”

Sabby had Alysanne sitting up now. Her sobs were getting less frantic now, but it was hard to see her so clearly distressed.

Jace scowled at Aegon. “What did you give her?”

Jaya felt Aemond’s arm tensing tighter around her.

Aegon smiled. “Don’t worry, kid, wouldn’t dream of giving her anything too strong.”

She saw the way Jace’s jaw tensed at Aegon’s choice of words.

“Seven fucking hells,” Aemond muttered under his breath.

Her brother was on a knife’s edge, his fists clenching by his sides. Aegon seemed unphased at his silent threats.

Jaya pulled herself away from Aemond and went to Alysanne.

“How do you feel?” Sabby kept asking her.

“My head hurts,” Alysanne grumbled, cradling her forehead in her palms.

“Can you stand up?” Jaya suggested.

Alysanne lurched to her feet without warning, stumbling forward but Jaya and Sabby were there to catch her.

“There…” Alysanne groaned, but she was still struggling to find her footing. “I did it.”

“She needs to go home,” Sabby said, bringing Alysanne’s arm around her shoulders.

With one final seething glare to Aegon, then Arryk, then Aemond, Jace turned his anger to Jaya. “Why the fuck did you let that happen?” he hissed.

Her stomach dropped and she could only stare at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. “What?” she uttered.

“Alysanne is your friend,” he seethed. “You should know better.”

He was right though. She had been the one to suggest Alysanne and Sabby come along. She had let Alysanne get close to Arryk and Aegon. She’d seen Aegon put a pill on her tongue and she hadn’t even questioned it.

Her eyes were starting to sting, like she wanted to cry but she couldn’t quite remember how. She just wished Jace would stop looking at her like that, his glare laced with venom and scolding, like she was a child, like he knew better. Jace always thought he knew better.

Aemond stepped forward to help Sabby carry Alysanne. “I’ll call you a car—”

“No,” Jace snapped, standing in his way. “You lot have done enough already.” He brought one arm around Alysanne and pulled out his phone with his other hand. He muttered something to Sabby and the three of them began to muddle their way to the hallway.

“Oh you’re leaving?” Aegon called after them with a dramatic frown and his hand clutched to his chest.

Jaya could only find herself able to watch and breathe in the stench of her friend’s vomit. The other faces in the room were hungry and curious. They all had their heads close together, whispering and gasping but not loud enough that she could make out anything tangible.

Aemond leaned into her and she instinctively met his gaze. “Are you going too?”

She realised Jace was stopped in the doorway, glaring at her expectantly.

Then Sabby’s voice called from the front door. Their car was here. They needed to leave now. Alysanne had to get home.

“Jaya can spend the night here, Jace,” Aemond said before she could think of something to say. “I’ll drop her off in the morning.”

Jace’s face fell as he looked at his sister one final time. Jaya gave him a small nod and then he was gone.

The house was surprisingly quiet once the front door slammed shut.

And of course there was only one person who was going to break the silence.

Aegon began laughing. It wasn’t a sound she liked. It was loud and obnoxious and cold. But the attention was on him at least and before long it was almost as if nothing had happened. Arryk grabbed some paper towels, Aegon was doing lines off the dining table, and Jaya was still standing in the middle of the room, letting the noise of chatter and the bass of a slow song float through her.

Aemond’s hand on her shoulder anchored her back into the room.

“I think you should go to sleep,” he said.

“But it’s early,” she groaned as he guided her towards the kitchen.

She hooked her arms around his elbow as he reached for a glass and filled it with water.

“It’s nearly one,” he said, handing her the glass. “Come on, we’ll get up early and get you something to eat before you go home. Sound good?”

She nodded as she tried to drink and ended up banging her teeth on the glass. Aemond chuckled softly, it was more like a hum in his throat. She had an awful feeling that he was laughing at her mistake.

He draped her jacket over his spare arm and led her through the hallway, up the winding staircase to the top floor. The house had three in total and because it was only the two of them living there, Aegon and Aemond had their own floors with a bedroom, an ensuite and a study— not that Aegon’s study was ever used for its intended purpose.

She loved Aemond’s bedroom with its dark wood floors, forest green walls, rows of bookshelves and the old record player in the corner. She went into the ensuite to wash the makeup from her face and the wine stains in the corners of her mouth, brushed her teeth with a spare toothbrush and changed into the t-shirt Aemond had pulled from his drawer.

When she came back into the room Aemond was only in his jeans, his shirt thrown over a chair, leaning by the open window and fiddling with a filter and a packet of tobacco. She was determined not to look at his chest, the lines of his abs, or the trail of silver hair running below the waistband of his jeans.

“Light?” he muttered when he noticed her.

Jaya nodded and took the lighter from the pocket of her jacket. She tried to walk as straight as she could over to where Aemond was. He placed the cigarette between his teeth and leaned into her.

It took her a few tries to spark the light. She huffed at her own incompetence and dug her teeth into her lower lip, but her third attempt proved to be a charm. The flame bathed Aemond’s face with warmth and flickers of shadows over the angles of his face.

She watched, hypnotised by the way his chest rose as he inhaled the smoke, and the way his lips pouted as he turned his head and expelled it towards the window. Even then she could smell the smoke and feel traces of it burning in her nose and throat.

His eyes moved back to her. He smirked at her apparent fascination.

He offered her the cigarette and she frowned. He’d never done that before.

Her hands felt light and a little numb, but she reached for it, holding it between her fingers like he always did. But then she realised she had no idea what she should do next.

“Take a drag,” Aemond said softly. “But not too much, you'll make yourself sick.”

She brought it to her lips and started to pull the smoke into her mouth. Her eyes moved to his when she had reached the end of his instruction.

“Hold it.” The gentle commanding of his voice put her on edge.

She decided the taste and the sensation of the smoke wasn’t pleasant, but she didn’t dislike it.

“Breathe in…” Aemond said, his chest moving with hers as she inhaled the smoke, “... and out.”

As she exhaled she blew the smoke over Aemond’s face. “Fuck!” she giggled, trying to wave it away, “sorry, I just didn’t think–”

“It’s alright,” Aemond said with a smile as he took the cigarette back from her and brought it to his lips again. “How do you feel?”

She let her head fall towards her shoulder. She felt light and heavy. Happy and sad. Lots of things and nothing specific.

After another exhale of smoke out the window, Aemond took a step into her and leaned down to press a light kiss to her forehead.

Jaya’s chest felt tight. Her heart raced but she stopped herself from reacting.

She couldn’t remember when Aemond started to make her feel nervous. When they were kids they were inseparable, even though she was closer in age to Daeron and their parents were convinced she and Helaena should be like sisters. She followed him everywhere, asked him questions constantly and insisted they hold hands wherever they went. She adored him. She still did now.

She muttered a quiet “night,” and dragged herself towards the bed, wrapping herself in the heavy duvet and curling into the pillows.

She couldn’t sleep yet. The noise of the party hummed through the house, but what caught her attention was the sound of Aemond’s breath moving between his lips. She could still picture his face perfectly, the pout of his lips and his jaw.

She couldn’t help it. She opened her eyes. He was leaning against the windowsill, tapping the ash into a small tray before taking another few drags. She watched him until he stubbed the embers out and moved his hands down to the buttons on his jeans.

A thrill rippled down her front, down to her abdomen.

Stop it.

She quickly turned onto her other side, pulling the duvet up to her chin. She still didn’t let herself fall asleep. She waited with bated breath.

She followed the gentle thud of his jeans being tossed onto the chair and the sound of his footsteps. He let out a throaty sigh as the mattress dipped behind her.

And then she felt him, the warmth of his body against her back, his arm around her waist, pulling her into him, his breath fluttering against her loose hair.

“I’m sorry if you didn’t have a good night,” he muttered. She felt the hum of his voice between her shoulders.

“No,” she whispered, “it was fine.”

It wasn’t fine. She still wanted to cry.

Aemond’s hand started to trace circles over her stomach through the t-shirt. This kind of proximity had become a habit between them even after they had outgrown childish affection, lingering touches and delicate kisses. She loved it. He wasn’t this close with anyone else.

But she couldn't stop thinking about Alysanne, the grin on Aegon's mouth as he fed her the pill, or the look of anger on Jace's face when he left.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” she said.

Aemond froze, his hand paused, splayed across her stomach. It left her with a tight, restless feeling in her belly.

Then he embraced her, tightening his grip, almost squeezing her against him and burying his face into her neck. “Never,” he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. “You could never make me feel like that.”

For a moment his lips pressed against her neck. Aemond pulled away slightly, seemingly having done it by accident. Jaya was still, clinging onto his arm and holding her breath.

Until Aemond leaned in again to place a soft but purposeful kiss to her neck. It felt like she was being smothered, the weight of his body pressing into her side, his arm keeping her tightly against him, while her breath came through her nose and mouth with little huffs.

He began to trail his kisses up her neck, along her jaw, to her cheek, until she realised what he wanted. She angled her head back, enough for him to press his lips against hers.

He kissed her slowly, letting his lips drag lazily over hers as his hand crept beneath her t-shirt.

She gave a short whine when she felt his palm against her bare skin.

“Shh,” he cooed against her mouth, letting his tongue slip between her lips. He tasted sweet and bitter, like wine and whisky and smoke. He was still gentle though, and Jaya eased herself further into him.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but she must have fallen asleep at some point, no matter how she wished they could have stayed in a blissful mess of warmth, lips, tongue and teeth.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @bouncehousedemons

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #modern!au #aemond targaryen smut #my fics #it will come back #hozier coded

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shroomje · 1 year

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The Angel That Calls Me Hers ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon Riley x Original Female Character

Loosely unspired by: "In My Room" By ICP

Quick description: Simon is in love with an unknown entity of a woman who takes care of him. This man is an absolute simp for her.

Warnings: mentions of neglect from family, sorta just fluffy and maybe ever so slightly angsty, its not written very well and i kinda just wrote without editing so🤷🏻‍♀️

He doesn't even know who she is, or rather, what she is. She appeared in his room one night, and she never let him go.

She sat as pretty as ever on his bed, her moon-white hair drapped carelessly over his black cotton pillow.

Her bright blue eyes were doe-like and wide, and her lips were pink, pouty, and heartshaped. She was like porcelain. Her skin was soft and pale blue, but shadowed a darker blue on the edges.

The girls arms were resting on her chest, her long, dexterous fingers twiddled with her necklace, a small gold locket.

She was dressed in a long, nearly-see-through white dress made of some sort of chiffon. She looked like an angel. She had to be an angel.

Simon walked into his room, scoffing in annoyance, already taking off some of his gear and throwing it to the side of the room before he noticed the woman lying in his bed. His mood instantly changed.

"Hello Simon." The woman perked up, leaning up to rest on her arms set behind her. "Im glad you're safe. I was worried about you. I dont like it when people hurt you."

"You're real?" Ghost stepped closer. "I thought i had dreamed you."

"A dream doesn't make me any less real Simon. You should know that." The girl stood up, walking carefullt to Ghost until she was in front of him.

"My sweet boy, you've been through so much." she started taking off his gear, and then his vest, and then his jacket. "Your family was so horrible to you. The people supposed to love you were evil"

"You dont need to worry anymore Simon, ill never let them hurt you. Anybody who tries to take you from me will perish." Ghost couldn't keep his eyes off her. She felt so much more lifelike when he saw her in the sunlight.

"You're really real." Ghost raised a hand to touch her cheek, as if he could barely believe she was standing in front of him. He noticed how cold she was, like she had just run her hand under ice water. Despite that, he held her cheek in his hands, almost melting as she tilted into his hold and held his hand to her face.

Ghost was lost in her eyes, and he knew if she asked, he would do anything she wanted. "We need to clean you up, Simon." She led him over to the bed and sat him down.

She started taking off his helmet, then his mask, turning away to put both things away. "Whats your name?" She turned around swiftly.

"What do you want my name to be?"

"I want your name. I know you have one." She walked closer to him again, sliding off his balaclava and taking his face in her hands, giving a smile that could only be described as caring and love-filled.

"Simon, if i tell you my name, you'll be tied to me for all eternity. When you die, I'll find you, and I'll never let you go. You dont want that."

"Yes, i do." His words were quick, barely letting her finish before he spoke. "You've already claimed me. You've told me im yours, and i am, please." His voice was quiet, and he was practically whimpering.

"You'd be giving your soul to me, and you dont know anything about me." she tried to make him see reason, but he had made up his mind already. She was real, and he would do anything for her

"Please," he whimpered, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "i can't lose you. Now that i finally have you."

The woman sighed and kissed his forehead, prolonging the kiss for seconds longer than necessary. "I'll tell you tomorrow." She stood up, raked her fingers through his hair, and kissed his forehead again, this time briefly. "For tonight, let me take care of you. You've gone too long without someone to take care of you, and now you're mine, so that wont work anymore."

And then she got to work, she combed Simon's hair, and she made sure he dressed in more comfortable clothes. She made sure he had eaten, and then they laid in bed together, him lying on her chest, face nestled inbetween her breasts, and her hands in his hair, gently playing with the fluffy blonde strands.

He was hers, nobody could ever take him from her.

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respectthepetty · 5 months

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Background Noise in 7 Days Before Valentine

7 Days Before Valentine is giving me The Luminous Solution vibes, and that is not a good thing, but visually? It's serving!

The color coding already told us that our protagonist, Sunshine, is the devil (read: he sucks).

He was filming an ad for a fragrance called Devil with a K-pop idol named Jeff (no comment), and he was playing Mephistopheles, a devil who sold his soul for power.

When he left the studio, he exited out of a red door (hell).

He noticed a girl falling (or even pushed her) but focused on texting instead, and ended his message with a devil emoji. 😈

And the scene ended with the girl on the floor as he walked away.

It started to rain as Sunshine's boyfriend, Rain, waited for him.

When Sunshine entered the shop, all the umbrellas were black.

But when he exited, all of the umbrellas were red and the shot was slightly tilted.

In the shop, the owner warned him that he was being careless about love and not putting the time and effort into it, which Sunshine dismissed. The owner finally gave him a flower that was "big enough to stand the Rain."

And the assistant emphasized that the flower, which he named "Marie" (like the mother of all good guys?), loves "Rain" before the owner told Sunshine that "Flowers get you high, but liquor makes you see the truth."

Sunshine showed up to the restaurant in his red jacket with the devil horns on and offered Rain the flower and some of the perfume, but Rain is allergic to it. Sunshine told Rain he bought them tickets to Japan so they could celebrate in the snow. (When hell freezes over, I guess?)

Therefore, Rain understandably broke up with Sunshine at a place called "The End of the Road"

Rain told Sunshine that he is condescending, immature, and selfish, and left him for a college student named Air (like a breath of fresh air)

Rain owns a cafe called Rainmaker, and all of his employees are in love with him. *cue early 2000s rap song about making it rain*

This is that Luminous Solution vibe. If you know, you know, and if you don't, be thankful.

Sunshine returned to the shop where the owner yelled at him about balance, and told him that two opposites can exist with compromise, like Sun and Rain. Sunshine was not pleased.

And this sign doesn't make sense to me.

Sunshine put on the horns again, and we got several shots like this as if the devil was approaching because of it.

When Sunshine entered his apartment, he was the center of the universe.

He admired himself with the horns.

But once he took them off, he began to yell. Each time he had the horns on this episode, he was more comfortable and calm. He shouted that he would not accept his fate.

And that's when the Grim Reaper appeared. He stated he was between good and bad, here and there, the past and the future, but he showed up in white and the cool light, called himself a Cupid Reaper, and told Sun to call him Q.

As he moved through Sun's apartment, the lighting became warmer, and he stopped between the red lamp and the sunshine-like clock.

The actors on the TV are the shop owner and assistant.

And the owner did a gesture to show Sun it was real at the exact time Q told Sun it was real. Then, the TV immediately cut off.

Sun's entire apartment is a battle between reality and an allusion, good and evil, the dark and the light, the right and the wrong choice with Q standing in the middle. He offered Sun a choice, but told Sun to really think about it, logically.

Yet Sun chose to go out into the darkness to make his decision.

And he chose power.

He is Mephistopheles, the devil who sold his soul for power.

#7 days before valentine #episode 1 #background noise #the colors mean things #and it means Sun is the devil #these names are too on the nose #I didn't like the episode until Q showed up #but the visuals were pleasing

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captainremmington-13 · 19 days

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: swearing, injuries, jealousy, mentions of nausea and blood

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy this chapter, i had a bit of trouble writing it but i hope it turned out ok!

“Angel, wake up. We’re here.”

You groaned, instinctively covering your face with the jacket Luke had draped over you to keep you warm. “Five more minutes…”

You heard him chuckle under his breath. He lifted the coat off of your resting figure, making you whine. You were fully aware that you had to get up and face the deadly challenge ahead. A couple more moments of rest would’ve made you feel at least a little better.

Luke reached over and unbuckled your seatbelt. He got out of the Mercedes-Benz and walked around to open your door. “You were asleep for almost three hours, baby. I think it’s time to wake up so we can get this over with, don’t you?”

You clumsily clambered out of the car, gripping onto Luke’s shoulders so you didn’t face-plant into the ground. Looking around, you realized that you were parked in the middle of a field. The sun was setting in the distance, casting an warm orange glow on everything its light touched.

You would’ve stopped to admire the scenery if you weren’t so worried about getting mutilated by a dragon.

Luke grabbed both of your backpacks and closed the car door. Slinging one over each shoulder, he unsheathed the sword attached to his belt. “Ready?”

You nodded, adjusting your posture to appear more confident than you really were. You headed towards the dirt path in the grass, which undoubtedly lead to the Garden.

“How far do you think we need to walk?”

“Not too far, the tree should only be about a half-mile from here.”

“Flying would make the journey a lot faster,” you pointed out. You still weren’t a fan of using your wings, but you didn’t mind it if they would make tasks easier or safer.

“No.” Luke immediately shut the idea down. “You need to conserve your energy.”

You gave him an over-exaggerated pout. “You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re a brat,” he said, but you knew he was just teasing. He called you that all the time, knowing he was the only one who could get away with it and remain unharmed.

Besides, it wasn’t exactly untrue. You enjoyed giving your boyfriend a bit of attitude at times, just to get him riled up. After all, he looked even more attractive that way.

You would’ve continued playfully pushing his buttons if not for the sense of dread that was creeping up on you. Each step you took towards The Garden of Hesperides strengthened the feeling. The paranoia started overwhelming your mind, making your hands shake slightly.

What if this was the last time you and Luke went a peaceful walk together? What if one of you didn’t make it out alive?

You swallowed, pushing the nagging questions aside. You would do everything in your power to keep you both alive.

And if your father decided to take his soul away from you, you would fight like the most vicious of demons to get him back.

________________________________________________

Words couldn’t describe the beauty of The Garden of Hesperides.

The colors were almost too overwhelming for your eyes to process. You’d never seen such radiant flowers, or such vibrant grass. It felt like you had stepped into a painting, rather than a real place.

The most stunning feature of the Garden, of course, was the apple tree. It was ginormous, at least five times as large as a normal one. You were no botanical expert, but it looked extremely healthy, especially for being as ancient as it was.

The Hesperides, who laid peacefully in the soft grass, were almost as gorgeous as the magical plant. They looked nearly identical, but each of them were easily more beautiful than almost all of the people you knew. They wore traditional white chitons, enhancing their dark eyes and shiny black hair.

If a mortal had somehow stumbled across this place, they would assume it was a safe haven. That is, of course, until they spotted the hundred-headed dragon wrapped around the trunk of the tree

You and Luke were ducked behind a hill about a hundred yards away from the Hesperides and Ladon the dragon. Even from afar, their presences made you feel uneasy. Ladon was much larger than you’d expected him to be, and you had a feeling the Hesperides could be vicious if they wanted to be.

“So, what’s our plan of action?” Luke whispered, keeping one hand on his sword’s hilt.

You sucked in a breath. You’d been brainstorming strategies during the walk to the Garden, and had finally come up with one that seemed feasible. You didn’t like it, but it made the most sense.

“The Hesperides are known to like men more than women. They never get to leave the Garden, you see, so when they have male company they get…more excited. They’re more likely to let their guard down if you approach them and spark a conversation. They may be wary of you at first, but if you pretend to be a traveling demigod who simply wanted to admire the tree’s beauty, they should fall for it.”

“Okay,” Luke said slowly. “Then what will you do?”

“I’ll turn invisible and slowly approach the tree. When the time is right, I’ll fly upwards to grab an apple, which will undoubtedly alert Ladon. Then, I’ll fly over to you and we’ll make a run for it.”

You could immediately tell that Luke didn’t like this. Before he could protest, you said, “If I approach the Hesperides, they’ll immediately be suspicious and send Ladon to attack me. The only way to try and avoid a fight is by having me pick the apple.”

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. After a second, he sighed.

“I don’t like it, but it does seem like our best bet. Just…please, please put yourself before the quest. Don’t sacrifice your life for a stupid magical fruit. It’s not worth it.”

You nodded. “I understand. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Luke gave you a nervous smile. “Okay. I’ll be as careful as I can, but if I need to, I’ll fight my way out.”

You tried not to wince. You hated the idea of Luke facing Ladon alone. But you knew he’d fight any monster, matter how large, to protect you and himself.

Gently, you pulled Luke in for a passionate kiss. You tried to ignore the fear that this was the last one you’d ever share.

When you pulled away, you gave his a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you closed your eyes, and willed yourself to become invisible. You broke into a sprint, heading towards the backside of the enchanted tree.

You were tempted to pray to the gods for protection, but realized it was pointless. After all, the tree belonged to the king and queen of Olympus.

And they never really listened to demigods anyway.

You would’ve been much more upset about Luke being surrounded by beautiful, immortal women if not for the beast slumbering a handful of feet away from you.

Luke had always been a smooth talker, even when he was still in his “awkward teen” phase. It was one of the many skills he’d inherited from Hermes. He could talk his way out of trouble, even in the tightest of situations.

With that ability and his good looks, he could easily get whatever he wanted from most people.

He was sitting on a carved stone bench, telling a winding story to the Hesperides, who seemed very interested. Clearly, it had been awhile since they’d had male company.

You crept closer to the trunk of the tree, being careful to stay as quiet as possible. Ladon undoubtedly had an enhanced sense of hearing, as he literally had one hundred heads.

You gripped the hilt of your weapon, prepared to fight at any moment. If the dragon attacked Luke, you wouldn’t hesitate to step in.

You stood still for a few moments, observing Ladon’s body language. He seemed to be deep in slumber, his many eyes closed tightly and his breathing slow and steady.

Concentrating intensely to ensure you stayed invisible, you willed your wings to appear. The familiar cold feeling of them sprouting from your shoulder blades made you shudder ever-so slightly, but the effect quickly faded.

Jumping into the air, you hovered for a minute, trying to decide which apple would be easiest to pick. The further into the branches you went, the more noise you’d make, undoubtedly alerting the dragon that there was an intruder.

You decided on one that was dangling at the very end of a branch, a good distance away from any of Ladon’s heads. You took a deep breath, and rose higher.

Then, like a hawk targeting a field mouse, you swooped down, snatching the golden fruit from the tree.

Unfortunately, the snap that elicited from you picking the apple was enough to wake the beast below you.

“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath. Ladon began stirring, and then his many eyes shot open.

You had been caught.

There was no point in staying hidden, the dragon could use its sense of smell to detect your exact location. As soon as your invisibility faded away, you screamed, “Luke!”

You saw his focus immediately switch from the Hesperides to you. His eyes widened, and he unsheathed his sword, charging towards where the dragon was getting ready to attack you.

You landed on the ground next to him and readied your sword. Ladon’s many heads were glaring down at you both, teeth gnashing together violently.

He lifted a gigantic claw and swung at you. You threw Luke out of the way just in time, but ended up feeling the full force of the blow. The apple flew out of your hand, landing somewhere in the meadow. You were thrown at least ten feet, hitting the ground with a painful thud.

You howled in agony, feeling your ribs crack painfully. Somehow, you got up, staggering to your feet. You glanced around wildly, searching for Luke. Your vision swam, but you were able to make out his figure in the distance. He was slashing at the beast, swiftly avoiding its foot-long talons. Somehow, he was able to detach one of Ladon’s claws, making the monster cry out in agony.

You stumbled towards him, using your long weapon as a cane. You no longer cared about the stupid apple. You just needed to get him out of here.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you saw one of Ladon’s claws make contact with Luke’s face.

He screamed, reaching up to cover the gash, which was starting to drip with blood.

Ignoring the searing pain in your torso, you ran towards him, stepping between him and Ladon. The dragon snarled at you, its hot breath fanning your face and making you even more terrified. Still, you leveled your weapon, prepared to keep it away from Luke, no matter what it cost.

You rose up into the air, until you were at face-level with Ladon. Before the dragon could lunge, you used your sword to slash through the eyes of one of his larger heads. The shriek he let out was deafening, and almost made you drop your weapon.

Quickly heading back towards the ground, you grabbed Luke and tried to get him to his feet. But he was clearly in an overwhelming amount of pain, and was in no shape to move, let alone run.

As you saw Ladon heading towards you both with a murderous glint in his eyes, you knew there was only one way to make it out alive.

Wrapping your arms around Luke, you closed your eyes and thought of Camp Half-Blood. You pictured yourself appearing at the border, right next to Thalia’s tree.

A sudden gust of icy wind swirled around you both, making you gasp. You held on tighter to the injured boy, afraid that if you loosened your grip, he would be lost forever. You felt dizzy and nauseous, and you were sure that if it lasted any longer, you were going to die.

Then, the feeling stopped.

You opened your eyes tentatively, and that saw the trunk of a large pine tree was mere feet away.

You had successfully teleported all the way from California to Long Island Sound.

You’d made it home.

Dragging Luke towards the border, it took all of your energy not to pass out. Luke was barely conscious, still gripping Ladon’s severed claw in his hands and carrying both of your backpacks on his shoulders.

As soon as you had made it past the magical barrier, you screamed, “Help! Someone, please!”

Because it was already nighttime, you couldn’t make out exactly who was rushing towards you and Luke. You were barely able to hear what they were saying, but you could tell they were panicked and confused.

Finally, your legs gave out, and you hit the ground. Luke groaned as he practically fell on top of you, clutching at the deep wound on his face.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was Luke whispering your name.

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @have-a-nice-day-k

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!!

The tone of the story is going to shift beginning in the next chapter, it’s going to get more mature in a multitude of ways…

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fandom #rick riordan #demigods #thanatos

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ouraboras · 22 days

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Ranking Alucard's Designs, Best to Worst

I've had a rough day and feel like being mean. These are just my opinions. Some rules:

I’m not counting each game a character appears in unless the design is noticeably different. I don’t count different art styles as a different design. I’m not counting the mobile game skins with two exceptions. For the most part it’s just him but purple. However, for your pleasure, joker Alucard:

Symphony of the Night

No surprise. It’s his most iconic design. He’s gorgeous. I enjoy how he wears a mixture of human clothes (the jacket) and more stereotypical vampire clothing like the cape. Same with warm colors with black and silver.

2. Grimoire of Souls

I love this design. I kiss it every night before I go to bed. I pray to it on Sundays. His waist makes me go feral. The only thing that bothers me is the brown lining. I wish they did something like the inside of his SotN jacket.

3. Moonlight Rhapsody – Outfit 3

I know absolutely nothing about this game. However, I love this skin. In my head when I imagine Alucard pre-Dracula betrayal this is it. The collar is a bit silly but I can look past it. I love the sleeves. The only critique I have is the brown and we’ll get to my feeling on Alucard wearing brown. But on this outfit, it’s not too bad.

4. Nocturne

They gave him his gay little neck ruffle back nature is healing. I wish they kept the details on the coat, but I’ll happily take the trade. I like his face.

5. The cancelled Dracula’s Curse movie concept art

I need to know what the context behind this would have been. The skirt, the pauldrons, his bloody hands, HIS HAIR PUSHED BACK. The only thing I dislike is his black nipple.

6. Aria and Dawn of Sorrow

I like the suit. The red pocket square is nice. I think it is a really interesting choice for it to be red rather than yellow as a callback. I love the choice to make him resemble Dracula pre-vampirism. All of his color has been drained and replaced with black and red. I go back and forth on if I hate or like (for symbolic reasons) his tie-neck ruffle thing. But none of that is my real problem with the design. His shoes are hideous. The heel is good. He deserves a little heel. But what is going on with the white. It's ugly and going to be a bitch to keep clean. His slacks are too long. He’s a government agent, he can afford to go to a tailor.

7. Season 1 & 2 of the show

I dislike the shirt. I’m not a big fan of how they drew his face either. But I like how they gave him Trevor’s chest scar.

8. Captain N

He’s so rad. But to be honest, Captain N Alucard has a special place in my heart. I remember when this was the closest thing to an animated series Castlevania had. It being this high is purely my nostalgia. I highly recommend watching the episode. It is pure 90s camp.

9. Season 4 of the show

Whore.

10. Grimoire of Souls – Blood and Loyalty

I can’t find a better look at this skin. He’s apparently dressed as a samurai. I like this purely because his hair is up. I don’t see enough of that. (artists pls you’d be doing the world a service)

11. Lords of Shadow 2

The only thing I like about this design is the coat. The dark blue with gold looks really good. I don’t like the belts, but I can ignore them. My issue is the armor. I hate the bronze so much. The armor on one hip is ugly. The ONLY thing that salvages this crime is the fact this Alucard is wearing the highest heels. This looks like an MMO armor set.

12. Judgement

I only unironically like 2 of Judgement’s designs. This is not one of them. I dislike it purely because of how boring it is. They put Simon in bondage gear, gave Trevor a boob window, and made Sypha a Catholic magical girl. But Alucard has to be more modest than the actual child. They could have fun with this but didn't. The most interesting thing about this design is they made a vintage couch into his cape.

13. Dracula’s Curse

This is Alucard’s original design. It’s just your standard pop culture vampire. I like his little owl hair tufts.

14. Legends

I’m fine with changing up Alucard’s design. Hell, we got SotN because of changing it. However, why is he blue? It’s not this illustration either he is just light blue for some reason. I like the short hair. I think it’s a cute way to show this game takes place in the past. But again, purple? Really? His necktie is not doing it for me either. It looks really bad.

15. And finally, last and certainly least: Pachinko and Moonlight Rhapsody

The faces? Good. Hair? Good. But for some reason they made his coat brown. At LEAST for pachinko they had some gold gauntlets and brown gloves instead of his sleeve cuffs. But whatever fucked up person at Konami did the design for MR kept the sleeve cuffs. It’s not like there is the excuse of ‘Oh the inside is black’ because it’s yellow. Now you might be asking: Why is this the worst? I have similar issues with other designs. But here is the thing, they all did something new. This is just your standard SotN Alucard with a color palette change. It looks like a recolor skin but it’s the main one. It's a bad change but not one bad enough to not be boring.

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #alucard #alucard tepes #castlevania games

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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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hi my love! i have a little request if that’s alright with you <3

so eddie is taking reader on a date. reader dresses fem (skirts, dress, pinks, whites) so eddie rents some cassettes from family video such as madonna, cyndi lauper, the bangles etc. however, once eddie lets them know they have free range of the music, they move all the rented cassettes out of the way and pick up eddie’s own casettes such as metallica, iron maiden, dio etc and get super excited over them. just some super cute fluffy stuff about eddie falling so much more in love with reader?

thanks if you do darling 🫶🏻 x

hi my love! thank you for another lovely lovely request, this was fun! hope you like it

contains fem!reader, fluff [1.9k]

If he's completely honest, Eddie has no idea how he got here.

There's a black spot in his memory, hours and days of lost time wherein he must have done something to end up in this diner, across the table from you. He knows that there were two more dates before this, but even those are beyond his belief, and the fact you said yes to a third is entirely unreasonable.

He can't believe his luck. He's struck silly, your pretty face looking at him softly from the other side of the booth. You're all sparkly and he's convinced you're glowing. There's no light in here really, just the neons on the walls and a couple spotlights over the counter, but he thinks you look divine.

"Eds?"

His eyes meet yours and finds them wide and expectant.

"Huh?"

You smile. Pretty.

"Lost you for a minute there."

If he told you the truth, it'd be that he can't possibly concentrate on what you're saying and the cherry you've got between your finger and thumb. You keep dipping it in the whipped cream, bringing it back to your lips and licking it clean, and there's no way he can't watch.

"Sorry, sorry," he breathes, shaking himself loose. "What were you saying?"

The giggle he gets from you is holy, tinkling like windchimes, silver on silver.

"I said, we should go see a movie some time," you repeat, smiling.

"Right, yeah," Eddie responds, grateful you haven't lingered on his lack of focus. He rests an elbow on the table, beside his half-eaten burger, and holds his chin in his palm. You shuffle, leaning your own elbow just like his, holding your chin the way he is. You smile at him, your expression turning silly with your eyes fluttering closed. He watches your lashes kiss your cheek and the way your lips curl up, the cherry still dangling from between your fingers. You bring it to your lips again and stick it between your teeth, eyes still closed, pulling it off the stem. His eyes linger on your mouth, the sugary red of the cherry stuck to them. There may as well not be another soul in the diner, because all he can focus on is you, lit up with a wash of pink light and soft like nothing he's ever seen before.

Soon enough the waitress appears, lacquered fingers reaching over to take plates and your glass. As you leave he drops twenty dollars with the lady at the register, and you loop your arm with his to pull him out of the door.

Your palm smooths down his jacket sleeve, reaching his hand just as you get to his van. Opening your door, he helps you inside, the sound of your laugh and baseless objections ringing in his ears while he jogs round to his side.

As his hand curls round the handle he stands for just a second. This is it, he thinks. This is the moment he's prepared for. You're going home with him, three dates in and smitten with one another; he gets to drive you there, show you around like it's not a two-room trailer and let you kiss him as much as you want because there's not a soul around to see.

Pulling the door, he jumps into the seat and turns to you.

"Seatbelt?"

"Check," you respond with two fingers to your forehead in a salute. "The goods are safe."

He laughs a breathy sound that he doesn't know is making your head spin. Starting the engine he stretches his arm over your seat, around your back, looking over his shoulder to reverse. It's driving you wild, though he doesn't know it, how your spaces are slowly seeping into one another. The distance is closing, boundaries blurring; he moves into yours without so much as thinking about it anymore.

Gravel crunches as he floors the accelerator and screeches through the lot and onto the street. Town is quiet, it's late, and there's only one place he wants to be.

His radio's playing an Indiana metal station. It's soft, the volume kept low so he can hear you chatting to him about which movies are playing next week, but he gives in to the urge to change the station anyway. You stop speaking when he does, watching his fingers fiddle with the frequency dial, but you pick up where you left off when he settles on a random charts station.

"Here she is," he says flatly as he holds his front door open for you. You pass him, looking around the room.

"My shoes okay here?"

Eddie's home isn't exactly very conventional. If anything, it's a little frowned upon, even though Forest Hills stretches so far back it's nearly half the size of Hawkins itself. In any case, he's not used to people being worried about the thredbare carpet.

"Uh," he drones, lost at your question. "Yeah, sure, wherever."

You crouch down to undo your laces and pull your shoes off, lining them up neatly, toes by the wall. As you stand he closes the door behind himself and kicks his own boots off. Taking your hand, he pulls you through the untidy kitchen, hoping you're not paying too much attention, into the sanctuary of his own room.

It's tidier than usual, though you don't need to know that. You follow quickly behind him and release his warm grip to show yourself around.

He steps slowly over to the bed, sitting in his usual spot against the headboard to watch you flit around the room, eyes darting everywhere and hands even worse. You're pawing at his magazines, staring wide-eyed at the posters, strumming his guitars gently. He can't help but look at you, bewildered that someone so pretty, in a dainty pale blue sundress and white cardigan, is here, in his room. Your pristine tennis socks look so out of place against his grubby carpet.

"You can, uh, stick some music on," he says, nodding to the tape deck on a table in the corner, "if you want."

Beaming, you look at him and then to the deck, bouncing softly across the room on the balls of your feet. His eyes follow you, heart thrumming with anticipation. Its steady rhythm falters, though, when you move the small, intentional pile of tapes to one side and pick up something from underneath. This one's worn down, plastic case cracked and littered with smudged fingerprints.

"You can play whatever you want, sweets," he calls. With your back to him he can't see your expression, but he can see that you're sorting through his tapes, the ones he likes. And he sees when you settle on one of his favourites: Metallica's Kill 'Em All.

The steady crescendo of drums begins, ebbing as you toy with the volume dial, but he's not really listening, worried instead that you're doing this for him. When you turn around you're grinning, bobbing your head lightly, treading over to him slowly.

"You didn't have to put this on," he tells you.

"What d'ya mean?" Your eyes are wide with confusion, expression malleable as you settle beside him, seated on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in yours.

"This is my music," he says. "You don't have to listen to it just 'cause you're in my room."

"I like this album," you tell him honestly, face plain, and your naïve intonation makes him choke a laugh.

"What?!" you ask through the beginnings of a smile.

"I just-" He's laughing, rubbing his free hand up and down his face, pinching his nose. "I bought you all those tapes, I just assumed, I-"

"So that's why you have Cyndi Lauper over there!"

"I just assumed that's what you listen to, y'know-"

"I did think, wow, Eddie Munson, Cyndi Lauper, unexpected-"

"-a pretty girl like you, must listen to prettier music than me-"

"-imagined you holed up in your room, 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' on blast when no-one's home-"

"-hey!"

His fingers at your sides cut you both off, pulling a screeching laugh from you, your giggles blending with his as he wrestles you onto your back.

"Eddie, Eddie! Stop it, I-"

"I cannot believe you'd think I listen to Cyndi Lauper!" he yells over you, his assault unrelenting until you bring your knees up under him to kick him in the stomach. He huffs out an umph and stills, flopping down beside you.

As you finish giggling and catch your breath, you turn on your side to face him. He's lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling and hand splayed across his chest, feeling the drum of his heart beneath. Turning his head to look at you, he finds you looking back at him, your hair more tangled than before and face flushed pink.

"You did that for me?" you ask him, voice quiet like you're uttering obscenities.

"Did what?"

"Bought all those tapes. There's even Madonna over there."

He laughs, his warm breath on your face making you scrunch your nose. Though he wants so badly to kiss it, he holds off.

"Yeah," he finally admits. "I guess I just- I dunno, I never pegged you as a metal girl."

"How judgemental of you, Munson," you tease.

"Can you blame me?"

"I like being unpredictable," you tell him.

"That's one word for it," he says with a laugh, sitting up. He twists and holds his hand to you, pulling you up with him when you take it. He likes the way the rush of air lifts your hair. "You really like this?"

You hum, nodding, and sing along playfully. Standing quickly, you turn to him and scrunch your face, hands out in front of you as though you've got a guitar in them. The sight of you, in your pretty clothes, all rosy and smiley, playing air guitar to Metallica, fills him with that funny, fizzy feeling that's been pestering him since your first date. It's like firecrackers in his bloodstream, or static down his nerves, and it makes his fingers tingle.

He reaches his hands out to take your waist. As he pulls you in you stop the air guitar and let him move you as he wants: his palms smooth down your hips and to your thighs, where they urge you onto his lap. Your arms wind around his neck as you find your balance.

With his hands back on your waist, he looks up at you.

"You," he whispers, "are so pretty."

He relishes in the way your face warms at his words, the coy expression that flashes over your face, and reaches up to kiss your cheek. Your thighs are warm as his hands roam up and down, and he begins to litter kisses across your other cheek and onto your jaw.

"Eddie," you breath over him, eyes fluttering closed.

"So pretty," he repeats. "I'm so fucking lucky."

"You're pretty too," you giggle.

"Why, thank you," he says, smiling into your throat.

"So," you begin, "will you play me some Iron Maiden?"

"Christ."

"What?"

"It's like you're trying to kill me."

"What do you mean?!" you ask with another laugh, one so light it feels like there's a breeze in his brain.

He emerges from the crook of your neck and looks at you. Your face is still warm, your eyes sparkly and wide, and he wants to commit every square inch to memory.

"You're perfect," he tells you.

#💌 request #thank you! <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #Eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie fluff #eddie x you #em x you

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Text

🎭 masks & meaning 🎭

Thank you, TWST merch, for giving me a clearer view of the masquerade mask designs 😂 Here’s what I noticed…!

Individual Character Masks

Riddle’s mask resembles the collars that appear when he uses his unique magic, Off With Your Head! It is also a recurring motif on his dorm uniform; note that the crown is on the same side on the mask as it is on Riddle’s dorm uniform sprite. Additionally, his lapels and boots have the split heart design incorporated into them. The checkered pattern inside the hearts looks the same as the background of Heartslabyul school uniform cards, which makes sense, as Riddle is their leader.

Deuce’s mask has a spade on it, but it just so happens to look like an inverted heart. This may represent his allegiance to Heartslabyul. The checkered pattern on the bottom half of the mask denotes his status as a card soldier; the checkerboard pattern recurs on his dorm uniform’s right sleeve.

Ruggie’s mask has rough edges, with the black part resembling an animal’s mane (I’m going to assume it’s a hyena’s mane since that’s what Ruggie is, but it could also be a lion’s mane to allude to his dormitory). The lower part of the mask looks like it could be sharp fangs or claws. Finally, the zigzag pattern reminds me of a jester’s hat: the points end in circles, which could be the bells. This would suit Ruggie’s playful but mischevious nature.

Azul’s mask is very intricate, with many swirls and what looks to be white pearls or rhinestones. The design and color are indicative of octopus tentacles and the ink they spill, with the jewels placed to represent the suction cups running along the tentacles. (Fun fact: Azul’s masquerade suit has several tailcoats, which also resemble an octopus’s tentacles. His necklace resembles the seashell one that Ursula wears.)

Jamil’s mask is very obviously a viper (the snake appears to have a hood) curling around one eye, so close to one of his ears... almost like it could turn and whisper to him. The mask also has red diamonds in the viper’s skin and around the eye area, which could be a reference to the infamous “diamond in the rough” quote from Aladdin.

Epel’s mask has a particular shape to it that resembles an apple. It’s also notably more of the color of an apple, rather than the deep violet associated with Pomefiore. (Maybe this is meant to show that Epel is “not like the other boys” in his dorm?) Then, of course, we have white flowers on both sides of the mask, which are likely young apple blossoms.

Rook’s mask has a golden part which forms a bow and an arrow nocked into it. These are items that are associated with his character, as he is a huntsman. Interestingly, his mask also contains the pattern that appears in the background of school uniform Pomefiore cards (the scattered moons and stars). Perhaps this denotes his loyalty to Pomefiore--and, more importantly, to its queen.

Idia’s mask has far less color than those of his peers. This suits him, as both he and the dorm he represents have a gloomy atmosphere about them. (His masquerade suit is also mainly black, with blue as the accent color.) Those skeletal hands that form Idia’s mask may very well be the cold, merciless claws of Death itself, come to claim another soul... which, very understandably, ties in deeply with Idia’s guilt related to his past (see episode 6 of the main story, you’ll know what I mean). The geometric pattern on the fingers resembles the jackets of Ignihyde dorm uniforms, and the prongs that stick up at the top of the mask looks similar to the lower halves of the skull which holds his magical gem.

Malleus’s mask is also predominantly black (as are the masks of his vassals), which, again, is likely associated with dreariness (though in Diasomnia’s case, it may also be tied to mystery or olden times and a lack of change). We’ve got the spikes and the glorious outstretched dragon wings, which are the very same wings that appear on Maleficent’s throne in Sleeping Beauty. The green gem set in the center might as well be Malleus’s crown, representing all the power and the responsibility he holds--and the dragon scales hiding behind his bangs.

Silver’s mask is done up to resemble a rose, true to his princely demeanor. It’s cool that the stem of the flower curves beneath his eye!! There’s exactly three green gems dripping off of the stem, and all three of them seem to be on thorns. These three could represent the fairies in his life: Malleus, Lilia, and Sebek (half fairy). Why do I think this? Because there is also a fourth item on the stem that stands out and doesn’t have a gem on it: the leaf, the one pure human in the Diasomnia quartet, Silver. And it is the leaf, Silver, that opens up to the petals of the rose--like many fan theories speculate that Silver is the key to a happy ending (ie “he is the sword that slays the dragon”).

Sebek’s mask is, perhaps, the harshest of them all. It’s very angular and point, likely to resemble thorns, as the latticework of the mask itself looks like a network of tangled briar. (It makes sense; Sebek is the most openly abrasive and “pointed” of Diasomnia.) The lattice pattern actually works with the solid parts of the mask to form what vaguely looks like a thunderbolt shape (do you see it?), which is Sebek’s motif. His mask tapers into a single green gem that is bigger than any of the gems on Silver’s. That gem? It’s symbolic of the young master that he has sworn to protect and serve.

Shared Dorm Features

Heartslabyul’s additional elements are straight laced and no-nonsense, just like the stern Queen of Hearts. It’s a simple combo of two ribbons in solid colors (with one always being black). Maybe that’s a nod to the “black and white” nature of Riddle’s interpretation of the rules!

Savanaclaw boasts beads and tassels! The beads resemble the ones that its leader, Leona, wears in his dorm uniform. The tassels may seem a little out of place at first, but then you realize that tassels look like a lion’s tail—just like that of the King of Beasts.

Octavinelle’s ribbon is a little twisty and tapers into a point, like the tentacle of a shady deal maker like Azul or the Sea Witch. It has the same white dotted pattern as the actual mask, which, again, mimics suction cups on a tentacle. The holding stick has a segment (where the mask and the ribbon connect) that forms the shape of plumes of ink dispersing through the water. *NOTE: this may just be Azul’s design, not Octavinelle’s design. We don’t have either of the twins to compare. See the final bullet point for more details.

Scarabia’s ribbons are more slim than that of the other dorms; the more serpentine look may be to make the ribbons more closely resemble the Sorcerer of the Desert’s famous staff. The red diamonds also show up again, promising worth and feelings that may not be apparent at first glance—not unlike the twisted story of Kalim and Jamil.

Pomefiore’s ribbons are two very different ones; they’re both done up in bows—a more traditional look befitting of the oldest dorm at NRC—but in very different shades and widths. Notice that one ribbon seems to be inside the other! Perhaps one represents the conventional definition for beauty, and the other represents alternative definitions for beauty. Vil and the Beautiful Queen can have them both: outer beauty and the strong will and to passionately pursue it.

Ignihyde’s holding stick is the most unique shape of all the dorms. It looks less like a holding stick and more like a torch, lighting up the dark path to the Lord of the Underworld’s domain. The sleek look of the ribbon makes me think of a gaming console, especially with the little color it has and the blue dots, true to Ignihyde’s high-tech dorm. The only element I’m not too sure about are the black feathers! I probably just lack knowledge on Hercules and Greek mythology, but all I can think of is maybe it’s pegasus feathers??? *NOTE: this may just be Idia’s design, not Ignihyde’s design. We don’t have Ortho’s to compare. See the final bullet point for more details.

Diasomnia also has two ribbons (simple yet elegant, like the Thorn Witch), one light and one dark. It’s a dorm that is associated with mystery (the dark), which we will soon receive revelations for (the light), particularly with Malleus opening up to others and learning more about the world. And of course a spinning wheel, representative of a pastime that is sacred in Malleus’s kingdom, is incorporated into the design of the holding stick!

I noticed that the characters with SSRs (Azul, Idia, and Malleus) have fancier holding sticks than everyone else. Their holding sticks are entirely different shapes than the SRs and Rs do. In the case of Malleus (who has Sebek and Silver for comparison), his holding stick has additional details (a gem, plus a black pattern snaking up his ribbons, and a ball of thread where the holding stick connects with the mask).

#twst #twisted wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #Idia Shroud #Malleus Draconia #notes from the writing raven #spoilers #outfit analysis #disney twisted wonderland #Deuce Spade #Ruggie Bucchi #Jamil Viper #Rook Hunt #Epel Felmier #Sebek Zigvolt #Silver

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dresden-syndrome · 4 months

Text

21/VI-1963. State Security department No. 138, Středočeský region, People's Union Republic of Czechoslovakia, EESU.

What was waiting for Radím soon after? Prison cell, torture, labor camp, death, something worse? He wasn't the one to fool himself - like everyone in the resistance, he was aware there won't be a happy ending. The anti-government uprising had just started. The State Security is doing everything they can to stop people from protesting ever again. Radím's hope was to inspire others, to ignite a revolution all across EESU - step by step, region by region, until no amount of soldiers and officers could stop the republics from declaring independence and forming democratic governments. No brainwashing, no surveillance, no single Party to control everything. Freedom to move, work, trade and create. None of this would happen without somewhere to start and something to sacrifice. The choice was to suffer a gruesome fate of a class 3-4 political prisoner or of a poor hopeless factory worker who may or may not be declared a "state enemy" later - and Radím chose the former.

Yet no matter how much you prepare for arrest, how ready you think you are to withstand such conditions, the reality always hits harder than you think. And when you're in, it's too late now.

Radím didn't have to wait for the torture room to realize that - even the registration turned out as something he wasn't prepared to. He didn't know where he is or how far away this place is - he was only dragged out as the car stopped inside bright white walls, then handled by a few officers to the registration table.

"Radím Štušek, born in 1944, arrest warrant #2125".

Not lead, but handled - despite him not fighting later on in the car, none of the officers let him walk where he had to. Every time they just dragged him or carried in their cold, powerful hands, like workers carrying their tools. Radím was pretty sure they do the same with everyone else - they did it so thoughtlessly, so automatically, like it wasn't even a human body they handled from one registration stage to another. Give them a sack of grain to arrest, and they'll do exactly the same with that.

This terrible feeling that he's not even human for them, the emptiness and powerlessness, was the first horror Radím met in the detention. The big rough hands that grabbed on him - him, who got irritated even by people standing too close - felt like burning and twisting on his skin. The disgusting eyes that were watching him shower and put his new black uniform on were like piercing through his soul. The only thing Radím wanted was to run away. Cover up. Hide in the corner. He could feel himself growling, hissing at them, as he put the black prison jacket on. He didn't think what to do better at the moment - there was only instinct telling him to flinch and rush as two officers grabbed him by arms again.

"No, no. Get away. Get away from me!" - Radím raised his voice to the officers' faces.

A third officer appeared, gripping the boy's legs.

"Comrade Matoušek, bring the restraint, fast!"

To Radím's surprise, there were no average handcuffs they put on him in the car - a cold steel chain for the cuffs on legs and a big leather belt structure fastened so tight it was a pain to move.

"Get away..." - a slap in the face stopped him halfway the sentence.

"You'll scream when you're interrogated, traitor."

After Radím's hands were roughly shoved into the restraint, there was no time to think before two officers lead him into a dark hallway.

The worst parts of registration are over, yet the nightmare has only begun.

@whumpuary #2: "Get away from me"

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno2 #get away from me #art #oc #whump #whump community #whumpblr #historical whump #military whump #totalitarian whump #whump oc #whump ideas #whumpee #whump art #defiant whumpee #whump writing

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year

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12 Days of Christmas (2022)

12 | Twelve Drummers Drumming

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader

Prompt: You attend a local holiday charity auction and bid on a date with a sexy CEO.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: role play, breeding, oral, vaginal sex

“I’m going to save my bid for Gojo Satoru,” a lady at the table next to yours whispers. The group of ladies she’s with giggle and snicker at her hopes.

“I’m going to bid on Nanami Kento,” another lady says, taking a sip of her drink, “out of all of them, he’s husband material.”

A small smile forms on your face at the thought of Nanami being the only candidate being marriage material. But that’s neither here nor there tonight.

“Mine’s going straight to Geto Suguru,” a different woman this time, “he’s devilishly handsome.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their conversation and their silly little reasons for wanting to place their bid on the top three candidates tonight. And not one of their reasons has to do with supporting the local Christmas charity event this is supposed to be about.

Though, that probably shouldn’t be too surprising when the charity decided to auction off dates with CEO’s from around the city as a way to gain more money.

When the auction begins, you sit back in your chair and listen to the low rumble of people talking about each suitor as the bids start. The two ladies at the table next to you win their dates with Nanami and Geto respectively and you smirk, knowing the third lady is going to be leaving severely disappointed because there is no way on this planet, you’re leaving without your arm wrapped around Satoru’s.

You’ve brought enough money to be sure of it.

Satoru walks out on stage, so handsome in his tailored black suit, tie matching his azure eyes, flashing that infuriatingly perfect smile at the crowd as the bids begin again.

You sit back, biding your time, waiting for the last moment to swoop in and snatch him out from under some poor unsuspecting soul.

As he looks around the room, your eyes lock a few times, sending little flirtatious smiles to one another before you raise your own card, bidding four times as much as the highest bidder.

You win. Obviously you do, you knew there would be no competition at that price.

After the auction, you gather your belongings, ready to search for Satoru when he appears by your side, cocktail in hand.

You grin at him accepting the beverage as the woman at the table next to you scowls.

“Where’d you get the kind of money to throw it all at a charity event?” He asks curiously, motioning for you to wrap your arm around his and walk with him. You happily accept, turning just enough to the side to wink at the lady who still holds a frown.

“Inheritance. I recently came into some money and thought it’d be best spent doing some good for our city.”

“How admirable of you.”

It’s a lie. You know it, he knows it. Neither of you talk about it.

Stopping at a nearby table, the both of you drop off your empty cocktail glasses, and Satoru helps you get your coat on. It’s only a few minutes walk to your place from here, but it’s snowing out, perfect for a white Christmas tomorrow.

“Would you be interested in going back to my place for this date?” You offer, playing with the lapels of his jacket.

He chuckles, placing his hands on your hips, leaning in close, his breath on the shell of your ear, sending jolts straight to your core, “how about we go to mine, and I’ll show you a night you’ll never forget.”

You bite your lip and nod, quickly making your way out the door and down the road to his apartment.

As soon as you step foot inside the Tokyo penthouse, your back is against the door, his lips feverishly against yours. You waste no time in unbuttoning his jacket and slipping it off as he quickly unzips your dress and pulls it down, letting it pool on the floor.

He loses his clothes quickly after that, lips still latched to yours as your tongues dance together in the warmth of your mouth. He throws them haphazardly in the foyer before kissing along your jaw from one side to the other, nipping gently on your ear lobes.

You let out a shaky breath as he turns his attention to your neck, chest and stomach, bending down between your legs.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs to himself before placing a quick kiss on it, lifting one leg over his shoulder, and then the other, placing his hands on your hips so you’re perfectly balanced back pressed against the wall.

He licks a strip between your folds up to your clit, before sucking gently. You arch your back, grabbing your breasts to tweak your hardened nipples as he continues his assault on your clit.

Letting go of your hips, he easily slips two fingers into your slick pussy, finding your g-spot with perfect practiced ease. He’s always so good at this.

Satoru’s moaning, you’re moaning and you wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a noise complaint next week when everyone comes back to work, but you don’t care as you rut your hips against his tongue to the best of your abilities.

You clench around him, your core tightening with your impending release as he gives a particularly hard suck, causing you to unravel, your essence pooling on his hand.

He groans, watching your slick drip down your leg, running his tongue up your thigh, before helping you move your legs from his shoulders, down to his waist.

And before you’ve recovered, he’s lining himself up at your entrance, thrusting his hips slowly and shallowly, letting you adjust inch by inch.

His hands are wrapped around your waist as you throw your head back once fully seated on his length. Satoru walks you over into the kitchen, placing your back against the marble kitchen island, pumping a few times before flipping you over.

He easily slips back in as he grabs your hands, holding them behind your back, other hand at the base of your neck, gripping tight.

“Gonna f-finally put a baby in you,” he stutters, snapping his hips to your plush ass watching the way it jiggles as you cry out. “You’re gonna be so fucking full of me.”

He’s the first to break the game. He always is and you don’t care. You never do when he’s fucking you this hard.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, tits pressed against the cool countertop.

“Gonna give me a little Christmas miracle, babe?” He asks, you know he doesn’t expect an answer, you’re nothing but yes and please right now anyway.

He lets go of your neck, to snake his hand between your legs, massaging your clit a few times and that’s all it takes before you’re exploding around him like a tsunami, trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it, just like that,” he groans before he buries his cock in you as far as he can go, throwing his head back groaning every syllable of your name as he fills you with his seed.

He shutters, slowing his thrusts before placing his forehead between your shoulders, placing several small kisses, and then he’s pulling out, watching both your essence mix and drip down your leg.

He helps you stand on shaky legs, before picking you up and carrying you over to the couch.

Satoru sighs, holding you close on his lap, kissing your forehead several times as he grabs the remote for the fireplace turning it on, the heat enveloping your space in a matter of moments.

“Did you have fun?” He asks quietly, the crackle from the fireplace filling the quiet apartment you share.

“Pretending we don’t know each other so I can spend mass amounts of money to undermine women who think they have a shot with my husband, just so he can fuck my brains out? Absolutely.” You grin, pecking his lips, then cheek several times.

He asks this question every year, and every year you answer the same way. It’s your own little Christmas tradition, after all.

Taglist: @z33sblog @thisbicc @septembersums @septembersummer @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @arisucat @watyousayin @khadeejarh

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #TDC #violetsaffronfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #christmas smut

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eclipsejoku · 2 months

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A Freak For A Friend - Error and Nightmare

TW: Manipulation, feeling uncomfortable and hearing things, not respecting boundaries (haphephobia), breaking of limbs (not gory, just Nightmare after the corruption lacking any stable bones), swearing

If you feel uncomfortable with any of these topics or subjects, leave. I’d rather live knowing I’m not responsible for someone's discomfort. If you are reading, please enjoy!

Summary - Nightmare recently became corrupted, trapping himself in the Anti-Void while escaping his AU. He meets a new glitchy friend and wants to be freaks together.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Anti-Void. A place of nothingness. A place where time ceases to exist. Well, that’s close enough, isn’t it? It’s not like anything’s valuable there, so why was someone randomly walking there?

That was the situation Nightmare found himself in. He recently became corrupted from the apple, so he could barely feel his body. He felt cold and scared. Mainly cold. He couldn’t tell if they were his feelings or someone else's. Frankly, he didn’t care, either. He just wanted to find a way out of… wherever he was. The Anti-Void was all the code said. The rest was just blank, similar to his surroundings. It was strange. He felt so many emotions around him, yet he couldn’t. He felt like his senses were absent, yet they felt so sensitive. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Eventually, the voices around him started to scream, his feelings and thoughts fusing and blurring together. He couldn’t tell what he was doing if he was in control. He just felt trapped. He felt apart from his body. He was confused if the thoughts were his or someone else's. Still, he kept moving forward.

No matter how much his body ached.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The longer he walked, the more clouded his vision grew. He felt so tired, weak, and pathetic. It was like the village, with reality nagging at his mind. The whole reason he ate the apple was to be just like Dream. Now look at him. He’s a freak. He wanted to shut them out. He could barely see. If he could, it was just an empty blank space. He grew tired of it. He wanted to see color. See something alive.

Anything.

Eventually, he forced himself to open his eyes and observe his surroundings. He looked on the floor, around him, and soon looked up.

Oh, how grateful he was to look up.

There was color! Amazing! He saw strange, blue strings hanging from the ceiling. Well, there is no ceiling. Just an endless void up, but still! They held souls from above, each placed in a specific area. He found it amusing as the souls lay motionless, entangled. He wanted to touch them, but he was still cautious. He may be going insane from the Anti-Void, but he’s not that delusional.

He sat down on the cold white floor, staring up. He grew bored and decided to count all the strings he could see. Then he tried counting the souls. The ceiling was vast, making his eyes hurt.

Getting back up, Nightmare walked randomly, following the waves of strings. They appeared to originate from a singular point. “Like a spiderweb,” he thought. The souls were like bugs, trapped in the harsh grip of strings and silk. After walking for… he doesn’t remember. After walking for a while, he found something in the distance. It was a body. He walked faster and faster, and he sprinted towards it. After reaching his destination, he towered over it. He wanted to know if he found a corpse or a living thing. It appeared to be a skeleton, just like him. It was black colored, just like Nightmare’s goop. It had blue “tears” on his face. They looked similar to the strings. Its eyes were closed, probably sleeping. It wore a baggy black jacket that faded into blue near the sleeves. Its teeth were yellow as it snored. “Still alive,” he gratefully thanked Destiny for a while, glad to know there was probably a way out. If this thing collected souls, they got it somewhere else.

Meaning they can get out of the Anti-Void.

His gaze trailed over its body, seeing how its skeletal hands and legs were bright red, unlike his face. Its shorts were black and blue, just like his sleeves. He noticed they seemed stitched. Maybe the skeleton knitted its clothing? Its neon blue scarf wrapped around his neck, the excess lying on the ground next to it.

Nightmare was curious, that’s for sure. The more Nightmare looked, the more detail he noticed. Its snores sounded glitchy, and there were a few glitchy error signs around his body. He couldn’t help but get closer. Using his hand, Nightmare gently touched its face. Its bones were ice-cold. “Probably from staying here too long,” he realized. He gently tapped its cheek. “Wake up,” Nightmare pleaded. The figure’s eyes slowly opened and eventually landed on Nightmare. Suddenly, it jumped up and backed away quickly, seemingly shocked. The error signs around its body started to cover most of its features. Its eyes were widened with shock, eventually covered by the error signs. Nightmare simply sat where it once lay, staring with dull eyes. The thing froze in shock, and a loud static rang throughout the Anti-Void. Nightmare flinched, covering where his ears would be. Maybe this is going to be interesting.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a while, the glitching skeleton calmed down. “Finally,” Nightmare groaned. The other stared at Nightmare like he was crazy or delusional. Maybe it thought Nightmare was both.

Maybe he is.

“W̵̢̠͂H̴̘̄̂O̷̙̐͒͝ ̴͓̹͔͂͛T̶̫̟́̐Ȟ̵̗͎͇͠Ë̸͔́́͜ ̷̲͖̘̓̀͐F̸͇̲̒Ű̶͎̱͕̂̇C̴̡̞̀K̵͒͊̀͜ ̸̹͗̈́A̷̦̥̭͐R̴̦̆̏͊Ẻ̷̪̚ ̷̼͋Y̵̢͐͗Ȍ̷͓̉̽U̸̖̯͂ͅ?̸͖̣̽̈!̵͖͙̲̿͘͝” Nightmare could barely understand what it was saying to him, but he gave a sinister grin. After all, if Nightmare knew one thing.

It was fear.

Nightmare gave a deep, demonic chuckle. It felt so refreshing to see someone so scared. Usually, Nightmare was the one scared of others. He was always begging for people to stop, to end their torment. He was glad the roles reversed for once. Was it sadistic? Sure. But in Hell, Nightmare would care.

“Relax, darling—”

“A̶̞N̸͙̈S̷̥̏W̴͉̔̍͛Ȇ̶͍̳̎R̴̦̠̠̓̈́ ̵̦̙̃ͅT̷̡̋̈H̴͓͖̗̔Ě̶̝̉ ̵͙̖͕͠F̴̩U̸̪͌Ĉ̵̮̱K̴̦I̸̺̼͑N̶̟͋G̷̨͛ ̴̠͑Q̴̰̞̤͆Ǜ̶͇̹E̴̢͔̜̿̂͑Š̷̤̗T̵̺̀̄͑Ȉ̸̱̦̱̆O̷͕͖̘͗N̶̳,̴̞̭̩̉̄ ̸̔T̷̢͚E̷͈͉͊N̶͎̏̂T̶̲̳̊͛A̶̲C̷̗͚̭̅L̷͈̈̃E̵̙̚ ̶̯̳F̴͙̺̭͂͑R̴̨̛̖̄Ẻ̸̝Ä̵̛̖́Ķ̸̲̳́!̵̞̏” Nightmare gave a playful pout. “How rude of you. I haven't done anything to you yet!” Nightmare’s tentacles slithered out of his back, slowly approaching the figure. Suddenly, blue strings wrapped tightly around his tentacles, causing Nightmare to scream in agony. "N̷̛͙̅͋-̴̝̣͕Ñ̸̥̥̤̃-̶̩̱͓̈́̐N̴̜̭̑͜ŏ̵̙t̸͎́̂ ̷̖̤̈́̅s̴̬͐̂ö̶̫͕̌ ̴͕̩̞̾͗͐c̵̦͇͐͘o̷̠c̴͍̈͛k̶̜̊̑̂y̶̮͛̓-̸͚̹̽̓̑k̴̞̫̈́̈́̐y̸͓̦̞̆͋ ̴͈̍n̶̳̹̒̓n̶͖͉̿͗n̶͙̠̎͛͘ň̶̡͚̮̋o̵̺̎̈́̎w̸̭̙̣,̸͓̘̾͘” “̵̛͎̤̋̅h̵̛̘̘̻͂̽-̸̙̈́̒h̸̆͘ͅ-̷͚͈̯̃͋̕ḩ̴̺̠̍̈́-̵̣̝̹͗h̶̫̊̉͘-̵͚͊͂h̶̢̢̽̏ṵ̵̲̤h̷̦̱͚̔͆-̷̹͎͗̊̕u̴̧̦͑ĥ̵̖͆̈́-̵̫͜͜͠u̸̖̮̇̽h̴̲̄̑?̶̬̬̀́̓” Nightmare could barely hear what he was saying. It was too corrupt. His tentacles eventually morphed and oozed out of the strings. Nightmare glared at the figure. “Why don’t you calm the fuck down, huh?” The glitchy figure let out a deranged cackle. It was so glitched and deformed, switching pitches every second. "̸̛̘̍̇͜Y̵̨̳̖͑-̷̞͇̐Ý̴̭̥͂̂-̸̲̦́̎Y̴̩̖̣͐̈́̆o̴̳̯͆̃u̸̡̬̎̂͘ ̴̪̝̃͂́w̴̤̐̎ă̶̦̹̼̊n̶̫̘͠n̶̗̊ǹ̴̋͒ͅn̴̖̳͘t̶̹̜̃ ̸͚́̍̎ṭ̷̨̳̿o̷̫̙ ̸̰̰͛̈t̷̲̤̻a̶͙̙͇͒͂-̵͔̫̀̚ã̷̮͚͐-̴̡̛a̷͍̹͒̐̅l̴̛͐ͅk̸̖͇̎?̷̩̋ ̷͍̘̎̄Ỳ̷̯͖̜͋o̶̹u̸̺̰ ̷͔̝m̷̮̉́-̷̪̼͉m̶̛̫͖̋̎ȗ̴̻s̵̬͠ṭ̸͐̌̍ ̷̼͍͛b̸̛ͅë̷͍̰́͜ ̴̙͐ń̴̻̼̻͌-̵̟̟͈́͝n̵̢̳͐-̶̲̏n̵̦͕e̵̳͖̰w̶̢̛̰ ̶̨͇̼̽h̴͇̊e̸̤̼̯͑̎é̷͎̼͇̉ê̴e̷̢͎͍̋͊̈e̶̢̼͑̔r̶̫̔ȩ̴̀̕͠.̶̰̰̈́́"̷̢̦̀ Nightmare couldn’t understand a single thing it said. So he gave an emotionless stare. “Uhhhhhh… right. The glitchiness…” He paused. “I didn’t understand a single fucking thing you just said, strange glitchy man.” Nightmare rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide his confusion. The figure sighed. His voice reminded Nightmare of the device the villagers called. It was something like a radio. Nightmare continued anyway. “The name Nightmare, strange glitchy man that steals souls and hangs them on the ceiling. I apologize we got off on the wrong foot. Also, Glitchy Man is a pretty weird name-”

"T̸̺H̵̦̰A̵̬̩̲T̵͓̫͒ ̴͚̌Ì̵͉̳S̸̢̥͖̓̄N̵̤̘'̸͔̯̈́T̴̬̭̕ ̷̙̹M̵̛Ẏ̵̖͖͓͛ ̸͍̤̻̌N̵̞̞̞̽A̵̱͑̅͠M̸̮̻̊E̷͑ͅ!” Now, at least Nightmare could understand a bit more. “You’re… quite rude, y’know? I didn’t even finish speaking, and you’re already interrupting with your harsh replies.” The figure was seething with anger and annoyance. Nightmare gave a smug grin, glad to know he was irritated with him. The negativity felt so amazing. It gave him pleasure. “Y’know, I was going to ask what your real name is, but with your interrupting… Might as well make it official.” Nightmare shrugged. The glitch wrapped strings around Nightmare’s body and brought him forward. The strings were trying to wrap around his body, but Nightmare easily slipped out of its grasp. The glitch went from angry to confused. Then bewilderment.

“H̵͓̗͋O̴̡̠̤W̷̟̙̄ ̴̖͋͆I̵̡͓̞̅N̴͙͙̤ ̷̻̹T̶͈Ḩ̷Ę̶̻̭̾̋ ̶͚͎͙̾̓F̵͓̟̼U̸̲̼͖C̸̙̝̲͌K̸̼͈̊͛Ȉ̴N̶̬͇G̵̻͕̝̅ ̷̟S̷̳̦̊̄͗ͅḦ̸̱ͅÌ̷͓͕T̶̮̮̀̀̕ ̴̢̲̃D̶̡͖̎̃I̵͙͒͝D̶͙͒ ̷̜̙Y̶̟̠̦̌Ö̸̜̺́U̷̳̯͘ ̷͕̦̈́J̸̹̐̑Ư̸̧̝S̸̲͕͇̅̃T̴̢-̴̹̮͘ ̴̝̻̞̀H̷̱̗̖Ọ̵͙͐͜W̴̪̓?̷̲̟̮͘!̸̦̻̘͒̀͗” Nightmare gave a polite smile. “Well, you can’t break broken bones, y’know?” He held out his arm and bent it the other way, making the glitchy figure screech in confusion and shock. It glitched out even more. It did the same as before, the error signs covering its eyes and body. That horrible screeching radio noise started, much to Nightmare’s displeasure. After waiting a few minutes, the glitchy figure came to its senses. Instead of speaking like usual, he stared at Nightmare as if he came from hell by Satan himself.

Again, Nightmare didn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly ‘normal.’ He was a freaking four-foot skeleton covered in black goop, wearing attire that seemed to be for a prince, with four tendrils from his back.

Now Glitchy Man discovered Nightmare’s bones don’t exist.

They’re broken and shattered.

What the actual fuck.

They awkwardly stared at each other, wondering what to do next. It was an uncomfortable silence, that’s for sure. Nightmare let out a deep sigh while the glitch fiddled with its strings.

“So, what’s with the souls?”

"E̸̛̗͆n̵̛͈̏t̶̩̤ẹ̵̹̠͂r̶̋͆t̷̺̏â̴̡͈i̷͙̬ń̷ṁ̴͕̒e̵͎͒̏n̸̮ẗ̶̼̬́̽,̴̀ ̴̡̳̈́̿b̶̨̢a̸̱̅r̶̅g̷̱̰̼̿ḁ̵̍i̴̗̊n̸͐ỉ̶ͅn̴̺̊̕g̶̥̩̏̿,̷͔̠̀́ ̶̡͔̟͂̇d̶e̶̲̠͠p̵̩̐e̵̎͜n̷͐̈́d̸̟͎̉s̶͆͆ ̶͕̱̎ȓ̷̄ě̸̩̚͜a̶͋l̷͊̿l̵͎̖̋̇͠ỳ̷̯̲̭.̵” Honestly, all Nightmare understood was the entertainment part. But that was good enough for him.

“Ŵ̷͇͙ho̸͕͍̓̈́ ̴̨̧̛̈a̵rẹ̷͊ ̴̓͜y̷̢̻̙ou̷͍̫̎,̴̭̬̬ ̷̟̈́̀̈r̸eä̸l̷̈́̄l̸̢͋̆y̵̟?̷̯̖͕ I̵̢͊̅ ̶̡̅͌ǩ̷̩̃͝on̵̫͌w̷ ̷̛̻̩̪fò̷r̸̢̙̔͗̈ ̸̰̩͛sḫ̵̜̮i̷̒t̴͗ ̸̺̎̕y̶̻͊̑ǒ̸̥̯ŭ̸̧̪̑̚'̴͉̮̫r̶͈̄̀e̵̢͗ ̷̧̊n̶̼͑͂o̶̢̘̻t̵̯̾̒ ̵͔́j̸̩u̷̱͍̼̓s̸͎t̵̹͛ ̶̼́͒s̴͔͛͘o̵̬͑͌m̴͉͎͊̚͜e̸̹͂ ̷̹̣͆͜sk̵̡̦̊̇͆e̷͓͕͔̓l̸̰̄e̵̞̬̐̎tȍ̸̺ń̴ ̴͕͂̇f̸͈̗̤r̸̢̯̈͝͝o̵͑m̵̢̻͊͗ ̴̺͊ä̶̮̪́́ ̵̢͌̌̈r̷̫͚̀̐̓an̷͂̋̏d̷̢̆ö̴̹̰͍m̷̖̣̅̒ ̷͈̏Á̶̜͠Ũ̵͓̭͂̋.̸” Nightmare rolled his eyes, annoyed at the glitching voice. At least he understood what he needed to understand. “Well, I already told you I’m Nightmare. And I’m the guard…” He froze slightly, catching his mistake. “Well, ex-guardian of the Tree of Feelings.” Nightmare corrected himself. After all, he destroyed the tree, turned his “brother” into stone, committed a massacre of his village, and several other war crimes. Yeah, maybe he’s a bit less than “ex-guardian.”

“W̸͖̃e̸̻͇̅͜ir̷̞̹̋d̷̩͖̓.̷̡̗͚́͗̈́ ̵̢̨́̓Ṅ̶̻̑̇e̵̢͆v̵̒̋͝ė̶͝r̵͗̈́ ̸͂he̷͕͂́a̴r̵͇͐̀͑d ̴̠̱͓̈́̃o̸̗͇͝f̵̧̺̈͐̋ ̶̡͒y̴̘̙̋ọ̵̣̀u̵̻̟̓͋͒r̷̈̑ ̵͎̘͉́̒̕A̴̺͝Ṳ̸̩̅̚ ̷̛͓̺̽͋b̷͚͉̏́͑e̷͐f̴̛̖̦̆o̴̲̎́ͅr̵̤͆̾͠e̵̾͝.̴̗̻͑̈́͐ ̵̡̀̌̎G̴̳̬̜̍u̴͓͝a̶͉̔͘ŕ̷̭̍d̵̾i̶͙͙̍̈́̾ṉ̵͂ǧ̷̢̜͙͝ ̸̪̬̂a̴ ̶̄t̶̒̓̑r̵̓e̶ë̶͈̔ͅ'̶̀͝ś̶̎ ̶̣̍̋c̸̟͌͊͝è̶́r̵̝̾͗ţ̸͋͋́a̶i̷̜͝ṇ̵̏l̸̠͋͋͂ÿ̸̧̨́ ̶̻̫̈́̌n̶̖͋͂ͅe̵̛̯͖̜͋ẉ̶̙͔̿̌̊.̴̝͆͗” Nightmare didn’t stop him and its annoying voice. He heard about AUs, and this guy was giving him more information. At least it was useful. “What about you, strange glitchy figure that hangs souls from the ceiling of the vast void? What are you?” The figure seemed offended by that statement. “Ī̴̩̊t̴̂'̴̰͝s̵̛̾ ̴̮͕̀̒W̶̕H̵̔͒O̷̭̘͂͝ ̴̚͝ͅȁ̵̪m I̵̓! ̷́Į̸̯͛̍m̸̓ n̶͌o̶͋̇t̷ ̸̾a̴ ̴̩͒̋t̶̅h̷͊̽í̴̅n̷̄ǧ̶̹̑!” “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just answer me, dipshit!” Nightmare was growing impatient, but he tried his best to stay cool. He saw what the skeleton was capable of and didn’t want to take any chances.

“H̶̅m̶̂p̸̺h̷̗!̸̨ ̶̱I̸̱t̵͇'̷͇s̷̱ ̶͙E̴̡r̴͚ŕ̶o̸̖ŕ̶ ̵͎S̸̤ǎ̷ń̶s̷̮ ̸̢ť̴o̷̩̐ ̵̟͑y̷̛̥ö̸̟́u̵̡̅,̴͍̂ ̴̰̄Ṋ̸Í̸G̷͙H̸͙T̶̛M̶̩Ă̵R̴̠E̴̯!̶̘ ̶̣Ị̷'̴̼m̵̹ ̶͇t̸̻h̵̩e̵̋ ̸̻D̵̗e̴̠s̶͈t̸̹r̷͖ǒ̷͎y̴̬͒ė̸r̵̹̈ ̷̧ö̶f̶̫ ̷̻Ä̷Ü̸Ś!̴ ̵̠T̷h̴̰e̸̹ ̴͉K̴̺ḯ̵l̸̠l̴̻͑ḛ̷r̵̠ ̴̗ȏ̵f̶̱ ̴͉a̷̪ ̵͙̚M̷͕ï̶l̷̺l̶͉i̴̩o̸̧n̶̨!̵̺ ̷͍I̸̪ ̸̺W̴̲R̸̘Ḛ̷Ḁ̵̓K̴̜̏ ̵̩͆Ḫ̴͑A̸͉̅V̵͈̿O̴̢͋C̶͓͛ ̸̟A̵̪C̴̻Ṟ̸O̷S̴S̴ ̸T̴H̵È̸ ̶̥Ù̵N̴̜I̶͚V̷̲E̴̮R̸̬S̴̼E̸̼!̴̧” His voice was becoming more and more complex and glitchy, changing pitches and stuttering all over again. However, Nightmare’s eyes widened at the phrase, “Destroyer of AUS.” He’s standing in front of the Destroyer of AUS.

Holy shit.

“... No offense, but if you never told me you were the Destroyer of AUS, I’d take it you were a man-baby who got stuck here and was too lazy to get out.” The skeleton, Nightmare now knew was Error, crossed his arms and frowned. Maybe he was a man-baby. "D̸̙ȍ̷ë̷̦ṡ̵n̵̰'̴̠t̶̰̎ ̶ m̴͖̓ȁt̴̰ț̴̒e̵r̸͇̂ ̶̦͗w̵̳̐h̴͔̀a̷ṯ̵̀c̴h̵̻͋a̵̤̒ ̷̲̆h̵̹̏e̷͙͝ar̷̗̓d̷̜͂.̴ ̸I̵ ̸c̷̣̔a̶̰̋n̷ ̵ďe̸s̷ṫro̶̘y̷͙ ̶͐ỵ̴o̷̲u̴̫ ̶̤ȋ̷n̴̩ ̸̦a̵̱ ̸͙s̵͚ȇ̴c̴͕ò̷ṉ̵d̴͉!̸̲”

“Oh, but you won’t.” Error glared at pulled-out strings from his eyes, threatening Nightmare. However, all Nightmare did was stand up straighter and huff. “I mean, it’s not like you have a reason, do you? All I’ve done was annoy you and disrupt your sad, pathetic life. Have I not?” Error froze and lowered his hands slightly, hesitating. Nightmare took the opportunity to get closer, circling him. “I mean, I could be beneficial to you. After all, you’re just like me! Lost…”

He stopped behind Error.

“Forgotten…”

Error slowly turned around to look at Nightmare, fear evident in his red, yellow, and white eyes.

Nightmare’s hand gently caressed Error’s cheek, causing Error to crash again. Nightmare gave a devilish grin, pulling Error closer.

“A freak. It would be a shame to waste your talent simply annihilating AUS, isn’t it? You could do so much more. All you need…” His hand trailed from his cheek to his neck, subtly pressing his nail into it.

“Is me.”

Error’s breathing turned more rapid and heavy. The simple crash turned into agony. Error felt pathetic, weak, useless. The voices that Nightmare heard earlier encouraged him to do this, saying it was the right thing to do. The dark aura of fear surrounded them, and Nightmare loved it.

“Trust me, Error. I can help you. You want to destroy AUS, I want my bloody revenge.”

Error covered his ears, trying to block out the voices, but Nightmare took them off gently. His soft touch felt like pin needles to Error.

“Just let me be a friend.”

#fanfiction #error sans #nightmare sans #writing #short stories #undertale #undertale aus #errortale #dreamtale #undertale universe

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