#What if no one had a happy ending what if everyone was tragic what if people were only what you wrote for them as characters?

[littlemisssquiggles]

Okay…I gotta talk about these last two episodes of RWBY Beyond…

As much as I liked the “Boba” episode; I mean it was very sweet for the series to finally address one of the remnant elephants in the room which was Yang and Ruby briefly discussing what happened to her in the Ever After.

I liked that Yang finally no longer needed to front the burden of leadership by herself like how it was in the past.

I like that the show finally had that point brought up because it’s been a key observation of Ruby’s role in the group for a really long time. So I’m happy we finally got this development along with other drops of info---like Tai Yang missing in action in Vacuo.

That’s interesting. What could Tai be doing if he’s not in Vacuo with everyone else? My best bet is that Tai is probably teamed up with Glynda Goodwitch since she’s also MIA and the “assignment” at hand must have something to do with the true whereabouts of the Chamber of Choice. At this point, it has to be that.

Overall, “Boba” was a sweet episode and I’m looking forward to seeing how this new detail will be used in the future. The episode left off with Ruby and Yang agreeing on using the word “boba” to signal to one another when they will need emotional support from each other moving forward and I’m looking forward to see how that will come into play down the line.

That being said, while the last episode was nice, it’s not the one that I got my attention. It’s actually the previous episode. The one with the Adventures of Somewhat. Particularly how that one ended.

That ending got me hyped.

One thing that I’ve been itching for was to have RWBY return to the Ever After. And the main reason I wanted for this return is because of Oscar.

As ya’ll know, Oscar is going through the Merge with Ozpin which he is also trying his best to fight off.

So one headcanon that I’ve been playing with is something tragic happening to Oscar to force RWBY and co to return to the Ever After in order to help him.

So my headcanon was that while in Remnant, Oscar gets poisoned by Tyrian and falls into a comatose state, twerking the lines of life of death. In order to save Oscar, Ruby and the others figure out the only way to help him lies in the Tree of the Ever After. So they have to figure out a way to get to the Ever After. Unfortunately, the only way for them to get back to the Ever After is through how they got there in the first place: through the powers of the Relic of Creation which is sadly in the possessions of Salem. Therefore, our heroes must figure out a way to regain the Staff in order to get back to the Ever After in time to help Oscar go to the Tree so he can be saved through his own form of ascension.

The portal that opened was one of the portals created through the power of the Relic of Creation. And given Somewhat’s reaction, it has to be someone that they recognize which means that whoever it is before them has either got to be Ruby or all of Team RWBY (plus Jaune).

My money is that it’s probably Ruby since Ruby was the closest to the Somewhat back when they were still Little.

Either way, this has me excited! I mean, yeah sure, I could completely be heavily mistaken about this return to the Ever After being connected to needing to save Oscar at all.

But regardless, it does at least confirm that there will be a return to the Ever After to come for V10.

Personally, as a Pinehead, I want this return to be related to helping Oscar with the Merge so badly because I can’t think of it being related to anything else but that. Unless it has to do with finding a way to stop Salem in the Ever After.

I mean, it was highlighted back in V9 that the Brother Gods were the “children” of the Tree of the Ever After. And given that Salem is a by product of the Brother Gods’ meddling, finding a solution to undoing Salem’s immortality in the very birthplace of the very Gods who made her what she is isn’t too far of a stretch. I mean it makes sense from a narrative standpoint.

But regardless of that, I’m sticking with my first hunch. I really, really want the Return to the Ever After to have to do with Oscar’s Merge and potential Ascension.

I just want it to be about taking Oscar to the Tree.

I need it to be about that because…it makes sense. Ever since ascension and the Tree were brought into RWBY’s lore, I’ve been wanting Oscar to go to the Tree since I really think it could be the key to helping with the Merge.

Either to stop it as a whole or…have Oscar go through his own form of reform and become the person he needs to become.

Of all the characters who I wanted to meet the Blacksmith, Oscar is one of them. Like he’s the perfect candidate for this kind of development.

But I dunno. These are just my wild thoughts on this subject after watching the final two episode of RWBY Beyond.

Speaking of which, that's it. That's all the episodes of RB officially out which means, as of now, that's it for RWBY until they announce something about V10.

In the mean time, these are my jumbled thoughts on the last two episodes.

~LMS (2024)

#squiggles talks: rwby #rwby #oscar pine #rwby theories #rwby spoilers #rwby beyond #rwby somewhat #ruby rose #yang xiao long

[crushedsweets]

ANSWERING ASKS PT 4?

ok this is like 30+ asks LOL its mostly stuff about me/my art with a little crp sprinkled in im sorry... ill make a post thats actually answering the crp asks with real answers that arent "ILL DO IT EVENTUALLY I SWEAR" lololol

YOURE BOTH SO SWEET i havent been this passionate about smth in so long so hopefully im here for a while... thank u guys for indulging me. it makes me happy to post LOL

with love pls dont call me that buuuut. ninakate. ticciwork. ninatoby. ticcijack. ninajack. notice how its all in the same group...

hiii i dont plan to anytime soon! IF I WERE TO, cody and rouge are probably 'next in line' to being put in my AU, but i have no plans to actually commit to that

omg ok its funny cuz rn i HAVE ONE but its just me in it cuz im too lazy to organize all the bots and verification and whatnot. im also nervous about making a server cuz of some online occurrences that happened after u sent this HAHA so i'm kinda putting it off... but i reblogged tombs server and im sometimes active in there if u wanna join that one!

ffrhrughagahhhh

no ur right theyre such a power couple. i know we joke about toby being useless bf and clocky being badass gf but they're both really cool together.

I FORGOT I MADE THE TWILIGHT COMMENT LMFAAAOOOOOO I NEED i need. i need toby to find a random twilight shirt at a thrift and snag it for kate.

ME TOOOO its so delightful. i have so much fun playing with them like barbies.. making them kiss n whatever. LMFAOOOO so silly but yk

JEFF STANS ARE SO FUNNYYYYYYYYY i like you guys. laughing jack stans scare me but thats cuz that damn clown scares me... nothing that yall have done. youre just braver than me. LOL

i will not do this...

no literally its really bad. i hold horrible grudges BAHAHA but im working on it. im getting over my purple beef

omg. i listened to it and that was really cool. i like that thank u sm for sharing

IDK WHAT POST UR REFERING TO BUT YOURE RIGHT. LMAOOOOO

IM SORRYYYY im so sorry. i feel like this fandom is so small and most of the fans dont really ship in general so it suuuucks shipping here.. but i love them..

oh my god i need to i keep forgetting. the nina art i jus tposted of her holding th eknife was kinda.. kinda referencing her behaviors..

i do too!!! ive been neglecting them so bad im so sorry..

like the IEPFB tea party scene

I NEVER DID IT ANON IM SO SORRY IM GOING TO HELL

is this a song

i have not! i havent read alot of stories actually... i kinda like doing my own thing with them HAHA

omfg i had a clocknina drawing but i ended up privating but i think i should unprivate it...

ok actually im sorry i just am bad at requests omfg LMFAOO IM SORRY im so focused on nina ... forgive me...

THANK YOUUUU youre very sweet i appreciate you!!! <3

YEAH he's...one of the more tragic people. 100%. all loss

WHAT IS LIUJONJACK LOL WHOS JON??? ALSO LIUOTPS IS FUNNY

wdym ? !

LMFAOOOOO HEY ITS NOT A BAD COMBO THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING A NINAKATE SHIPPER........

THANK YOU CUPCAKE i really like nina.. or my version i gues si dunno.. i like everyone else's nina too. i like this nina we got going on together

ok i keep grouping these together but also making them seperate im so bad at organizing these asks but HAHA I LOVE THEM TOO i swear ill try to get some ticciwork stuff out soon!!! my spring semester is almost over so hopefullyyy..

this is how you know i suck ass cuz this was christmas time and im replying NOW. im so sorry. i initially planned to draw them hanging around a tree but i didnt get around to it then got embarassed and never replied.... but i agree it would have been cute. ha di notfailed. LOL

#asks

[goldsbitch]

Past lives

Charles Leclerc is opening an ice-cream shop...And nobody knows why.

romantic, soulmate au, one shot, short

"Past lives couldn't ever hold me down Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around" - Past Lives, Børns

It's the little things that resonate for no apparent reason.

The fact he would always lean towards a perfume with bergamot undertones - because in his past life, the love of his love was obsessed with bergamot tea.

The fact she would have the windows open at any possible occasion - because in her past, she and the love of her life lived in a small house at the top of a windy hill.

The fact he hated alcohol, because in one their lifetimes, the love of his life drowned her sorrows a little too often and lost herself in it.

The fact she could not watch war time movies, because in one of their past lives he died tragically, and a little too early for them to build a proper life together.

They did not get to meet in each life. But when they did, it was one for the history books. Not the ones about grandiose, history changing events, but the little sweet ones, usually to be found at the back of the antique bookstores. The mundane miracles that are hard to describe to the unlucky ones, who do not get to experience them. Some of them end up with a happy end, some of them with the biggest life lessons human soul can swallow.

It's the strange feeling of "I belong here" or "I think this will taste good". Why? Because you had seen it in the past, because you had been there in a different life time.

Fate plays a funny little game. Has one and their soulmate born just in time for them to be able to find each other, but likes to put obstacles in between. Distance, social barriers, conflicting dreams.

This kind of love leaves traces around the history. Songs, poems, buildings and initials carved into stones and benches. Wedding rings passed on in families and eventually sold once everyone has forgotten. Portraits of unknown faces and photos found at the bottom of old wardrobes. The ancient piping in an old house that still works because he built it for her to live in.

The soul keeps a memory, unreachable to the simple mind of the body, as it travelled from one lifetime to another.

That's how she found herself staring at a random, actually not that important, painting hung in a gallery exhibition dedicated to landscapes from the romantic era. She wasn't exactly a galleries type of person, but a girls trip to Paris had to include something more than parties and shopping. She stood there for good five minutes, totally mesmerised by a painting that did not particularly stood out from the rest. Little did she know that the silhouette standing in the field was one of her past self and that the painting had been done by her soulmate in one of their luckier past lives. It was like she could smell the summer weeds growing, hear the ground under her feet and understood what the author wanted to capture. And he was successful enough to capture the attention of his love throughout centuries once again. As her friends dragged her away to end their artsy part of their trip, she made sure to mark the name of the artist.

For some inexplicable reason, Charles Leclerc, in this life a racing driver, was opening an ice cream shop in in Milan. It probably would have made more sense to everyone, himself included, if he'd known that in one of their luckier past lives, he and his soulmate met in a small café in that city, few decades before that. He would come in one day, order an ice-cream and then did not stop coming until he managed to charm her.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #soulmate au #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x female reader #ferrari f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #chalres leclerc fluff #f1 fluff #f1 angst #charles leclerc soulmate au

[fanstuffrantings]

A few things about Astarion that I need people to think about outside of him simply being flirty and attractive (since people keep reducing him to his sex scenes):

His route has a heavy focus on emotional intimacy and consent. You can sleep with him sure, but if in-between acts 2 and 3 you learn nothing about him and pressure him into having sex with you then you're not understanding his character and he'll only see you as someone who wants his body.

Ascended astarion is his bad/dark ending. I know people love it when he's powerful and ascended/durge is a relationship people love and I'm not here to say that's wrong or that you're a terrible person for doing it. But stop arguing that it's his happy ending, or that he's better for it when he literally loses himself and in a nonascended version he'll say he could feel himself changing in ways he didn't like. He becomes another cazador. He only truly expresses himself and feels release if he kills Cazador and doesn't ascend.

Unless you do the drow twin scene prior to beating Cazador you're not forcing him into anything. He gives approval for going through with it. Do I think he regrets it after because he realizes he was biting off too much too early? Yes. But it's literally him learning his boundaries and understanding what he is and isn't comfortable with. He's only just starting to be able to fully choose what he wants, sometimes you make mistakes. It's part of the process.

Astarion died young before he fully matured as an elf, but he wasn't a child. He was a magistrate in the city, he had a fully functioning brain. But just because he was an adult by human standards when he died doesn't make it any less heartbreaking. People dying in their 30s is still tragically young. And even more so for an elf.

(This one doesn't come up as often) he doesn't hate Gale, he is very much flirting with and attracted to Gale at in act 1 if you bring them around. In fact Shadowheart and Wyll are the only ones he has dislike for at any point and as the story goes he warms up to everyone. All the companions care for each other and it's one of the best found families in video games.

There are several companions I feel large portions of the fandom just misunderstand/don't fully read into and it's tiring because the devs made each one so layered and interesting. I just feel like since Astarion is essentially the face of the game now, he's the one who constantly gets boiled down to his most surface level qualities with little regard for his story as a whole.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #molten rambles

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hey bff! can u do percy x a daughter of psyche? who has the gift of empathy and can heal emotional pain, but it drains her so percy is really protective!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of psyche! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of psyche! reader hcs warning: none this one is too soft for any warnings author's note: okay okay i did my research on psyche for this one and just...awwwwwww wtf its so sweet her and eros like wtfffffff why can't i have a tragic greek love yall doom me with the narrative i beg

you have bewitched him, body and soul

drawn in instantly

im sorry but you would be too if you heard of a girl that could basically heal all of your trauma

very popular among the demigods for that reason

borderline harassed and forced into help ease the emotional pain that a lot of them suffer from

and you wanted to help, truly you did, but it was hard when it took so much out of you

but you just pushed through, wanting the others to feel peace even if it cost you your own

you did it out of your cabin, as you knew chiron would try and stop you, scheduling times for them to sneak in and out

you were on your eight demigod of the day, your vision fuzzy but your hands out stretched as you needed a point of contact to heal them

but then instead of grasping your hands, the fuzzy blob in front of you gripped your shoulders

you could just make out dark hair and what looked to be green eyes before your body gave out on you

after what felt like hours, your eyes fluttered open, and you could feel your ladybug pillowpet under your head, which you turned towards the door of your cabin

there percy stood, shooing away another camper

"but-"

"look at her. she'll kill herself to keep you all happy. let her rest. i won't ask again," percy hissed before closing the door, shaking his head as he approaching you, kneeling beside your bed

"welcome back to the land of the living."

"who was that? are they alright?! i'm sure i could-"

"and i'm sure you could, too. but i won't let ya. you're off for the rest of the week," percy argued and raised a brow at you as you opened your mouth to argue.

you swallowed your argument, nodding your head and offering him a soft smile, which he returned

that was the first time you met and from that point on, it was hard to find one without the other

it got worse once you two started dating

percy might as well have glued his hand into your back pocket of your jeans, as it seemed to never leave

and no matter how much you offer, percy refuses to let you use your powers on him

he thinks it would be an abuse of his position as boyfriend

what he doesn't know, is while he sleeps with his head in your lap and you comb your fingers through his dark hair, you do little spurts of it

nothing major or serious enough for him to notice, but just to give him a little peace of mind here and there

but, for her birthday, once everyone else had left, you offered your services up to sally

percy had told you enough about gabe to leave you, every the pacificist, raging and seething with anger

sally was hesitant but agreed, you two sitting criss cross apple sauce in her bedroom on some rug paul had insisted on

you took her hands into yours and talked through the process, which you typically didn't do with the demigods

you walked her through her own emotions, why she was feeling that, why she dealt with that the way she did, how she might do better next time

you were both crying not even half way through

she pulled you into the tightest hug after, thanking you so many times you lost count

then she sent you home with a boat load of cookies, which she made percy swear on his father not to steal

you were sweet enough to give him a third of your ration, but that's it!! (he ended up with a half, bc you love that boy far too much)

he finds it very amusing to be like 'she's an empath ' at inappropriate times

"she just killed two monsters"

"she's an empath"

"percy! you're girlfriend is crying bc mr. d won't give her another marshmallow!"

"what can i say, she's an empath."

"hey, is that your girlfriend?? she's currently hugging a tree and refuses to let go because she thinks it was a lover in a past life."

"she's an empath- wait, what?"

idk but you are very jane austen coded, you just are

soft and ancient loves are sooooo you!!

those kind of loves where their souls are clearly tied in a neat little bow

percy buys you all those fancy cover versions of the books, making sure they match your aesthetic and all the things

just a boy being protective over his soft babygirl idk what to tell you

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

[throwaway-yandere]

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first. 

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence. 

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi: 

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide. 

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend. 

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard. 

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle. 

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life. 

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!” 

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny. 

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared. 

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever. 

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death. 

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word. 

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper. 

Nothing but an empty table. 

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear. 

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.” 

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside. 

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back. 

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened. 

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable. 

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened. 

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does. 

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.” 

You hated it. 

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter. 

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry. 

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself. 

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling. 

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now. 

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr 

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scenarios

[spider-chris06]

Do you know why Spider-Verse Miles is my favorite Spider-Man?

He, without having a choice, had to do in two days, what took all the other Spider-Sonas in the multiverse weeks, become Spider-Man, all under the unimaginable pressure of being the successor to the previous Spider-Man of his universe, which left the bar too high, having to meet everyone else's expectations, and having to go through a tortuous journey while learning from his mentor.

Even when the spider-gang not only didn't trust him but even seemed to dislike Miles at first (Except, of course, Gwen and Peter B, who are very special cases)

And pressing him to see if he was ready and treating him like just a kid (Even Peni).

All so that he then went to his uncle, who was like a second father to him and someone who truly understood Miles, only to find out that he had always been a hitman, going so far as to almost end with the life of his nephew, until he realizes what he was about to do and... well, tragedy happens.

The death of Uncle Aaron, due to the depth and history behind it, remains the most tragic "death of Uncle Ben" in all of cinema... ever.

Miles stopped being the same since then, and even when a hurricane of emotions possessed him, he learned that no matter what, Spider-Man always gets up and keeps going, at the same time he learned to take his leap of faith. Before becoming Spider-Man he had a normal and happy life, but after being bitten by that spider his whole life fell apart, but of course, Miles is someone truly strong and full of determination thanks to the people close to him.

In two days, he surpassed almost the entire Spider-gang, and in a year and a half he become almost a professional as Spider-Man, even giving lessons to everyone else, and making it clear to Gwen and the others what truly means being Spider-Man, not standing by crossed arms while someone is in danger, but trying to do everything you can to save everyone, doing both things, even when it seems impossible, Spider-Man should always try, because everything it's possible.

At the same time that Miles felt stabbed in the back by the same people to whom he wanted to dedicate his entire future just to see them again since he felt alone and sad inside in the world without them, and, specially, without Gwen.

And let me remind something, Miles actually thinks she doesn't even love him and only sees him as a friend, but he still wants to see her

On the ATSV betrayal, he release all that hurricane of emotions that he had to swallow and accumulate inside during ITSV and during that entire year and a half for not having time for ALL those things said before, leading him to have anxiety and panic attacks (Something confirmed in the synopsis of the short "The Spider Within")

All so that they later reveal to him that he was a mistake, an anomaly, that he should never have been Spider-Man, that he killed the Peter of his universe, causing everything that gave MEANING to his life fell down in just a few minutes, leaving Miles more traumatized, mortified and with more trust issues than he already had before.

He really became one of the most tragic character of all the saga (Along with Peter B and, put it in some way, Miguel O' Hara)

And just because Miles looks with a cool and chill personality doesn't mean he's any less traumatized and mortified on the inside (An example is Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man).

Even though in the comics that nickname is only used because that is what his universe is called, in the movies, on the other hand, even though there are people on the internet who deny the fact that he is currently becoming an unstoppable phenomenon that is marking an entire generation and will mark future generations, Miles Morales proved to be, without a doubt, the Ultimate Spider-Man.

As a bonus, even though she always screwed up with everyone around her, both the living and the dead, Gwen showed that she really loves Miles and that he truly is the love of her life, however, needless to say, she has a lot of work to do in her redemption arc to be able to fix things with Miles, which will be very difficult but not impossible, even more so taking into account all the hate she received for everything that happened in ATSV.

Now she has to PROVE not only to him, but to all of us viewers, that she truly deserves to be with Miles, that they can have a life together by her own merit, and that all the hate towards her after the ATSV release it's truly unfair.

However, I have to be realistic, there are characters like Peni or even Peter B who should not be anything more than simple 'acquaintances' or 'partners' for Miles, since, with what they did, the term "Friend" It's too big for them.

In any case, Miles has the last word.

#miles morales #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #spider man #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider man into the spider verse #into the spiderverse #spideverse #into the spider verse #spider gwen #gwen stacy #ghostflower #gwen and miles #miles and gwen #gwen x miles #miles x gwen #peter parker #itsv #spiderman atsv #atsv #gwiles #beyond the spiderverse #btsv #atsv analysis #character analysis

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training VI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You were helping Christine out in the kitchen when Margaret brought her daughter downstairs. The brunette was really kind, you’d come to learn, patient in making sure you got everything right. She didn’t seem bothered by your quiet disposition, instead content to simply talk to you with no expectation of any responses in return.

When the other brunette made herself known, Christine had awed.

“Oh, she’s getting so big,” she cooed, pausing in what she was doing. “Almost a year now, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Margaret breathed, a bright smile on her face. “Steve’s already talking about trying for another.”

You turned away, resting your gaze on kneading the dough, afraid to screw it up and afraid to stare in the face of your possible future. Although, you supposed that there was nothing possible about it, and you struggled to accept that. Your chest grew tight as you heard them fuss over the baby girl behind you, not wanting to entertain the thought of that being you one day, all smiles and sparkly eyes as you held Peter’s baby.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took you too long to realize that Margaret was talking to you, and you hesitantly looked over your shoulder. They were both quiet as you looked between them, an encouraging smile on Margaret’s face as your gaze eventually fell to the little girl in her arms. You felt unsure, glancing down at your hands before brushing them on your apron.

“I…” you gestured to the dough. “I’m a mess and…I don’t know if I should…”

“It’s okay,” the new mom softly encouraged. “She loves meeting new people.”

She was approaching you before you could protest any further, and you carefully took the baby when she handed her off. You supposed that Margaret was telling the truth, her daughter taking you in with wide eyes and studying you just as much as you were studying her. She was very sweet, very cute, and you felt yourself frowning a bit.

“I’m taking her for a walk around the property,” Margaret mused, and Christine hummed at that as she continued cooking. “Get her some fresh air and sun. Maybe even let her crawl around a bit.”

She poked at her daughter’s cheeks, a fond smile on her own rosy lips, and she let out a sigh.

“Pretty soon there’ll be more babies filling up this house, and then Laura, Sharon, and I won’t feel so alone.”

Margaret said it so casually, and you blinked for several reasons. For one thing, you didn’t know that Laura and Sharon had children too, and again, you were reminded of how isolated you felt from the other women. They probably sat around and chatted with each other about these things, those three in particular maybe even watching their children play.

In the same train of thought, your stomach churned at the mention of more children. You wondered just how long Margaret had been here for her to be so casual and content with her situation, to talk about everyone’s situation this way. Then again, you wondered if it had more to do with who she was married to. With a husband like Steve, there probably wasn’t any other choice but to find happiness in this predicament in some way.

Either that or be wholly miserable all the time.

Be humiliated all the time.

Her words had you handing her child back to her, and it was then that Steve appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. The sight of him had you flinching, and you almost felt like you were wrong to touch his child, stepping away from Margaret just as she smiled at the blond.

“There you are,” he said, smiling back at her and fully stepping into the kitchen.

You discreetly returned to the dough, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“I was just bringing Sarah down for a walk and wanted to visit whoever was in here making breakfast for everybody,” she sweetly replied, and you wondered if it was exhausting to have to appear to be that happy all the time.

You couldn’t imagine Peter expecting that of you, and you looked down, thinking of that morning in which Peter had forced you to watch Steve punishing Margaret. You felt your skin grow cold as you recalled his brutality, just the sheer act of treating someone that way, and especially for something as minor as messing up food or not smiling as big as he expected.

In the back of your mind, there was a stray thought of gratitude that you weren’t in her place.

“That’s great, honey,” you heard Steve tell her, and it sounded genuine. “Especially since Y/N is here.”

You paused at that, hesitantly looking over your shoulder, shuddering as your gaze met his. Despite the smile on his pink lips, the look in his blue eyes didn’t quite match, an emptiness to them that had your stomach sinking.

“It’ll be good for her to be around the children more,” he mused, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead, never taking his eyes off of you. “It’ll help her get…acclimated to how things are around here.”

You understood the words that went unsaid, turning back around and fighting back tears.

Steve wanted you to face your future, to stare at it head on and accept your fate. He wanted you to see the wives with their kids and maybe even interact with the small children, slowly opening up to the idea of children your own someday. At that thought, you wondered if Margaret had even come down here of her own volition, or if it was carefully orchestrated by the same man who’d orchestrated everything else in this house.

You only released a shuddering breath when they both left, and you found your thoughts drifting to Peter. He was still in bed when you’d made your way downstairs per the routine, something you were a bit better at now. You were still a God-awful cook, but as long as Steve wasn’t standing over you, you were fine. Funnily enough, outside of the night you’d cooked fish, the only time you’d come close to that was when Peter had helped you that morning.

There was a brief thought that you wished you had his help, now.

You immediately paused at that, gently shaking your head with a frown. You shouldn’t want Peter’s help for anything, even if only to make your time here easier. The hand he had in your kidnapping was astronomical. After all, he was the sole reason you were even here. As much as you didn’t want to subject anyone else to this, you sometimes wondered about what would’ve happened if you’d never gone into that diner that day.

Maybe you, Pietro, Wanda, and MJ would be almost to Florida by now. Maybe you’d be in some town a lot nicer than this, enjoying historical monuments and whatever shopping mall Wanda would no doubt be excited for. Tears kissed your eyes at the thought, and you wiped your face with the back of your hand.

Thinking about your friends made you sad, but not thinking about them felt…disrespectful. You couldn’t forget them, for as long as you lived, but reliving your time with them and wondering about what could’ve been hurt too much. It made your chest ache in ways that almost brought you to your knees, and you were grateful when Christine gently reminded you to roll the biscuits out small.

“Will I ever get to go outside?”

Your question was so quiet that it was a wonder Peter even heard it, and you looked over your shoulder at him as he took his utility belt off. So much of your road trip had been dedicated to nature and outdoor activities, courtesy of your contribution, and being stuck in this house and only able to gaze up at the stars from a barred window was getting to your head. It was even worse during the day, unable to step outside and soak in the sun.

You knew why, of course.

“Eventually,” he finally answered, slowly making his way to you. “Probably not anytime soon though…”

His word choice was not lost on you, and you blinked at him, frowning slightly.

“It’s just like with the basement,” Peter explained, drinking you in. “The same way Steve wouldn’t let you out if he thought you were a danger to anyone or was going to escape…”

He trailed off, letting you fill in the dots, and you turned back around to look up at the sky. You could feel Peter’s gaze on you as you pressed your forehead to the window, just standing and watching the outside world. You were sure that if you were let outside, right now, you would run. You probably wouldn’t even be able to help it.

However, the thought of being caught mentally scared you away from the mere possibility.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard Peter walk away, watching him disappear into the bathroom. You stared at the door for some time before turning back around. You didn’t like sleeping next to Peter…but you’d unfortunately found that sleeping without him was impossible.

The nightmares still woke you up sometimes, and in your delirious and fearful state, it was easy to accept his comfort as he shushed you and held you. It was shameful really, and your gaze found the floor. It was usually why you took this time to get into bed before him. You liked to pretend like you were asleep whenever he got out of the bathroom, unwilling to watch him crawl into bed and lay beside you.

It was easier to pretend this way.

You pulled the covers over you, still staring at the window, and you pressed your lips together. You felt like you were in some screwed up purgatory, stuck between the traumatic events that led to your capture and your inevitable future. You were unable to go back to before it had happened, but your mind wasn’t ready to go forward either.

You weren’t ready to become like Jane and find happiness here, smiling at Peter whenever you saw him, and you for sure weren’t ready to become like Margaret or Laura or Sharon. You couldn’t imagine having a baby with the man who’d kidnapped you and ruined your life, smiling at the child like a gift instead of what it really was.

Physical evidence of just how in deep you were.

Thoughts of your nightmarish future guided you to sleep, and the next time you woke up, Peter’s arm was around you, holding you in place and attempting to keep you from flailing. Your chest was heaving, and his other hand was on your head, smoothing over it as he gently shushed you.

“You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re safe…”

The cool air hit your face, and it was then that you realized you’d been crying in your sleep. You couldn’t stop though, because your nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare. It was real, and you were currently living it. Peter’s soft and soothing tone wasn’t doing much, and your forehead pressed into your pillow, your tears wetting it.

“Y/N…”

You really didn’t like Peter saying your name, the sound of it coming from his lips causing a shudder to climb up your spine. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you, and you were wetting his chest with your tears now instead. He rocked you, gently, wiping your face and telling you that you were okay.

…but the last thing you felt like was okay.

You felt so far from okay.

“Are…are you going to make me have a baby too?”

Your voice was but a whisper in the quiet room, and you felt Peter pause. He didn’t answer right away, and the more his silence stretched, the lower your heart sank.

“We don’t have to figure that out, right now,” he whispered back. “It’s just you and me, okay?”

You sniffed.

“…but…but Steve wants the house to be full of children…” you heard and felt Peter sigh. “He expects me to have children. I know he does, I could see it on his face.”

You continued when Peter didn’t respond.

“…and what he wants he gets, right? Right?” you tearfully wondered, trembling at the thought.

“That’ll be between you and me,” Peter softly told you, playing with your hair and stroking your back. “…and we don’t have to talk about that, now. It’s okay.”

You swallowed, tearfully staring into the darkness and feeling pathetic that of all people, Peter was the only one you found yourself confiding in.

“I’m scared, Peter…”

“Of what? Of me…?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Peter almost sounded offended at the thought. You didn’t know how to tell him that you were afraid of him. You were afraid of him and Steve and every other man here, afraid of their capabilities and the predicament they’d put you in. Of course, you were afraid of Peter.

The power he held was what got you here in the first place.

Everything about Peter terrified you. He looked like an angel, but one word from him silenced your friends forever and forced you into captivity. You supposed he was the nicer of the bunch, yes, but there was something about him that Steve clearly respected, something about him that could talk you out of being punished and buy more time for you to adjust.

Your mind drifted to that day in the kitchen, the finality in Peter’s tone as he addressed Margaret. You thought about her lack of argument, how easily she’d accepted something that evidently wasn’t normal all because Peter had made his position on it clear. You thought about how at ease he was around the men who’d killed your friends, how he talked with them and laughed with them and probably thought of them as friends. Brothers even.

Yes.

You were very afraid of Peter.

…because he was both the source of your torment and your comfort.

The same man who’d put you in this situation was the one who held you late into the night, keeping the nightmares at bay. The very same nightmares that he caused. Peter was the one you turned to whenever you were unsure about anything, unable to get direction from anyone else. He was the one you hid behind or sought out whenever Steve’s cold blue eyes fell onto you.

Peter had put you in this predicament…and he was the one you needed to survive it.

It twisted you up in ways you couldn’t even understand, and you hated the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I’m scared of everyone here,” you honestly told him. “I want to go home.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that, just softly rubbing your back. It was something you said often, and even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen, you couldn’t stop saying it aloud. It was something you just needed to say, and Peter let you.

“Sweep up every last bit of glass…”

Steve’s cold voice had you trembling harder, and you kept your gaze on the mess before you.

“We have children that crawl around here, and I’ll be damned if one of them hurt themselves because of your clumsiness.”

You fought back tears as the blond loomed over you, shaking as you brushed more glass into the dustpan. Natasha had thought nothing of telling you to dust the foyer, an easy enough task. That was what you’d thought anyway, but somehow, you’d managed to knock over the vase on the table by the entrance, and you’d heard the thunder of heavy footsteps before the sound of shattered glass had settled into the air good. Even before Steve had rounded the corner, you knew how badly you messed up.

An apology was barely on your lips when Steve had started tearing into you, ordering you to hurry up and clean the glass. You knew he had a point about the children, and you did feel bad, but it was a genuine accident.

“That vase has been in this family for years,” he said, making you feel even worse. “…and one afternoon with you and it’s gone just like that.”

When all the glass was in the trash, you got the feeling that Steve wasn’t quite done with you, evident in the way he still stood by the foyer. Your stomach turned as you faced him, and your mind drifted to the basement. If Steve would punish his wife like he had over the smallest of things, there would be no telling what waited for you over a family heirloom.

Then again, you didn’t belong to Steve…and you hated how much that comforted you.

“Peter’s at work,” the blond hummed, and you warily eyed him. “…so, you’ll have to be punished in a way that won’t upset him too much.”

You frowned at that, eyes widening at the yard stick Steve revealed from behind his back.

“You’re adjusting…but not fast enough.”

You glanced around, and you weren’t hopeful enough to think that no one was around to witness your scolding. They were there but were no doubt hiding from the blonde’s wrath lest it latch onto anyone within the vicinity.

“That vase has been dusted a hundred times, and only with you did it become a broken mess.”

You blinked back tears, struggling to find your voice.

“I’m sorry, Steve. It…it won’t happen again,” you forced out, and he hummed.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he breathed. “Hold out your hands.”

You weren’t quite sure you heard him correctly, and you looked at him in confusion, brows drawn together. Steve’s face was as serious as ever, and at the sight, your tears finally spilled over. You pulled your lip between your teeth, shaking as you did as he told you.

“Flatter,” he said, flattening the yard stick underneath your hands until they were flat and even.

He tapped them twice.

“Palms up.”

If it was possible, your eyes widened further, but the fear of worse had you obeying him, and the deep breath you took didn’t prepare you for the pain you felt when Steve struck your hands. Against your best interest, you snatched them towards you, holding them to your chest. You held in a sob as Steve tsked.

“Hold them out,” he slowly demanded, and they were shaking even more now as you did.

Your palms were up, and Steve raised his hand, raising the yard stick with it before bringing it down across your palms again. You hissed this time, hands lowering some, but you kept them upright, knowing that was what he wanted.

He’d brought the long piece of wood down onto your palms fifteen times, each time hurting worse than the last. By the time Steve was done, you were a sobbing mess, your palms red and aching. He’d given you another lecture on the importance of being careful, but you’d been in too much pain to clearly hear a word he said.

You stumbled up to your room the second he dismissed you, clutching your hands to you the whole way.

Your back met your door as soon as you closed it, shaking so bad it was a wonder you were still standing. At that thought, you stumbled to your bed, tripping over your feet and collapsing onto the mattress. You knew that you should run your hands under some water at least, maybe even ask around about something to put on them, but you were in too much pain and too humiliated to do that.

They burned, and the only thing you were capable of doing was crying yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t an easy sleep, drifting in and out, the pain bleeding through your subconscious and waking you up here and there. With the form of punishment Steve had chosen, you surmised that you weren’t expected to carry out the rest of your duties for the rest of the day.

The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t alone.

Peter’s fingers were on your forehead, smoothing them along your sweat-kissed skin. You thought you were dreaming at first, but when your eyes remained open, the brunette gave you a rueful smile. The sight made your face crumble, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he sighed. “Steve told me what happened.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at the mention of the blond.

“It was an a-accident,” you choked out. “I didn’t-.”

“I know,” he exhaled, fingers gently trailing down your arm. “I wish I had been here. I should’ve been the one to…”

He trailed off, but you knew what he was going to say. As crazy as it sounded, you also would’ve rather Peter had been the one to dole-out your punishment. With his hands on your arms, Peter helped you sit up, guiding you to your feet. You couldn’t stop shaking, sobs still climbing out of your lips as he pulled you into the bathroom.

He turned the cold water on, and you hissed when it ran over your palms. Peter left you for some moments, and when he returned, he turned the water off. You noticed that one of his hands were occupied, and when he sat you back down on the bed, he gently told you to hold out your hands.

You watched him kneel before you, rubbing some salve on them, something that made you initially hiss, but his circular movements with his fingers were gentle.

“A lot of things won’t be tolerated around here,” he quietly started, and you looked down. “It’s taking a lot for you to adjust, and that’s okay considering…”

Silence descended over you both for a few moments.

“…but Steve doesn’t have the patience for it. Not like I do,” he softly told you, glancing up at you as he wrapped your hands. “I can only protect you if I’m here because when I’m not…”

He continued wrapping your other hand.

“Your responsibility falls to Steve…or Sam…or Bucky, or Tony. Basically, any of the other husbands that can take it upon themselves to punish you themselves…or leave it to me.”

Peter set the gauze aside, fixing you with a gentle look as he rested his own hands on your knees.

“…and Steve isn’t the type to leave it to me.”

More tears fell, and Peter reached up to wipe them away.

“…but you work,” you tearfully said. “You’re not always here.”

Peter took a deep breath, gently grabbing your hands. You winced at the action, and you watched him bring your palms to his lips, kissing one and then finally the other.

“Do you want me to be here more?”

The question took you by surprise, and Peter looked up at you from beneath his lashes, dark strands kissing his forehead.

“I can take some time away from work if it means helping you…adjust.”

You sniffed.

“If it means looking out for you…”

More tears escaped, skipping down your cheek.

“Steve terrifies me…and I… If I have to be punished,” you struggled to say the word. “I would rather it be by you.”

Peter studied your face for a while, eventually nodding as he stood. He sat beside you on the bed, and you laid down, holding your hands to you. The balm helped with the pain some, but it was more so the humiliation and the recollection of the act that still had you crying.

Peter stroked your face, maneuvering you so that your head rested in his lap.

“It hurts, I know,” he said, tone soothing. “It’ll barely feel like anything at all in a week.”

His other hand rubbed your back, traveling to your waist and kneading the skin through your dress. The softness of his touch was a nice contrast to the flare of pain in your palms, to the memory of Steve’s punishing movements. When Peter took your hands again, pressing gentle almost nonexistent kisses to your palms, your lashes fluttered and disappointment filled you when he pulled them away.

#peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #Peter Parker #dark!peter parker #dark peter parker #marvel fic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #Peter Parker imagine

[biteofcherry]

Entwined

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.

*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;

Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for. 

When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come. 

Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold. 

If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve. 

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness. 

You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.

Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war. 

Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king. 

When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.

Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped. 

Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.

Leshy.

You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.

For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.

Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole. 

Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.  

Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination. 

He was that, but also… not.

He reminded a human man, but only at first glance. 

Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos. 

From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn. 

“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.” 

The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat. 

“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.

“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent. 

“And you are?” He asked, courtly. 

When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet. 

As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen. 

More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg. 

As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic. 

Beautiful, as nature itself.

“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.” 

Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant. 

Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.

A god of the forest.

After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you. 

Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study. 

“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips. 

His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away. 

You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.

“What have you come here for, little fern?” 

“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”

Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.

When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers. 

He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you. 

He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.

It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.

“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.” 

“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival. 

You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.

Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.

“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.

He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer. 

“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.

“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.” 

You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it. 

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice. 

No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.

“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”

You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence. 

Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his. 

“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.

“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused. 

Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list. 

Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.

Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest. 

“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled. 

“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests. 

Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body. 

Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling. 

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw. 

“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom. 

Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.

Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.” 

You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.  

“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves. 

“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.” 

Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed. 

When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.

He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you. 

“Are you willing to sacrifice?” 

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind. 

You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends. 

You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers. 

“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it. 

His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.   

“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance. 

When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor. 

Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition. 

Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain. 

You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact. 

If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it. 

Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.

Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding. 

He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset. 

“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out. 

Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs. 

It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory. 

You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain. 

Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant. 

As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice. 

The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs. 

None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.

“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.” 

You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.

“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?” 

Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.

“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”

“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth. 

“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down. 

“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”

By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him. 

After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body. 

You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers. 

When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly. 

The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain. 

And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs. 

It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive. 

When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.

And so you demanded it.

Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods. 

Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body. 

#aspensenchantedbday #buckets-and-trees #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers fic #Leshy!Steve Rogers #leshy!Steve Rogers x reader #entwined

[raginglesbian2006]

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 1: The Song is Ended (But the Melody Lingers on)

Chapter Warnings: Murder, Mentions of rape, Death

The song is ended

But the melody lingers on

You and the song are gone

But the melody lingers on

Masterlist

"Have you ever been in love, Alastor?"

The radio static screeched to a halt. Charlie winced at this, covering her ears.

"What brought you to question this, dear?" Alastor asked after recovering from the initial shock, his ever-present grin looking a bit strained.

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Well..," she pointed at the pendant that hung around his neck, sitting atop his garments, "I see you with that beautiful pendant around your neck all the time and you're very protective of it.... so I was just wondering," she trailed off.

Alastor let out a laugh, "Oh my dear, this is nothing," he lied, "Love. What a ridiculous notion!"

Charlie could not help but not believe him, but she let it go anyway; bidding farewell to the radio demon to search for her girlfriend.

Alastor was left alone in his thoughts. His hands reached up to touch the little trinket he sought to wear religiously around his neck.

No, this wasn't nothing. This was everything.

As he walked through the halls of the hotel to reach his room, his mind lingered on you. You were the one who gave him this pendant. You were the one who stole his heart.

Yes, he was in love once. Still is.

He remembers the time he met you- when you became his safe haven. He remembers when you had to leave, far from him and he could do nothing about it.

He also remembers meeting you again- the memory etched in his mind.

It was a bright sunny morning in Louisiana. Alastor was in his studio, narrating the tragic news of the New Orleans Boogeyman striking again. This time, hunting down and killing the nation's "hero", the son of a military veteran. Arnold Miller had followed in the footsteps of his father and had joined the army. His brilliant feats of achievements served as a source of inspiration for every lad in America, more importantly in New Orleans, since it was his place of origin. To everyone else, Arnold was a good soul, always ready to help out people, never backing down from serving the nation he loved so much.

Everyone, except Alastor. Alastor knew of his true nature. Arnold was accustomed to luring in girls - often against their will- taking their dignity, ripping them to shreds, and leaving them to pick up the pieces in front of the ever-scrutinizing society. He used to brag about his "escapades" to his pals, unafraid that anyone would turn against him. Everyone loved him after all. Moreover, he saw no fault in his actions.

Alastor was more than willing to show him his flaws. He regretted not taking care of him earlier, jeopardizing the safety of so many women. But at least he was gone, having faced the end of Alastor's blade. No one would have to deal with another scum like him anymore.

His radio show went on as usual, after the initial murder reports.

He talked about the daily humdrum around the locality, cracked a few jokes on the ever-changing economy, and suggested stores that sold excellent formal wear. This was a routine he'd come to love during his time as a radio host. He was satisfied with the predictability of his shows, and his life by extension.

All in all, he was happy with the hand he was dealt with.

"That is all for today, folks! Be sure to lock your doors tonight and refrain from walking alone at night. You never know when the Boogeyman might jump up behind you!" he chuckled, "And don't forget to smile! You're never fully dressed without one!"

He turned off his feed and sighed as he slumped against his chair. He couldn't wait to go back home already. His ma, although sick, had pestered him to never skip a day of his work. She'd told him he looked miserable whenever he did skip work and she wished nothing but happiness for him.

He assured her that he was happy to stay at home to take care of her but her stubbornness knew no bounds.

"I suppose I do get my grit from her," he wondered.

He took off his headphones and stood up from his chair, stretching his long limbs in the process. He started cleaning up his station, when suddenly he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, not looking up at the opening door.

"Mr. Alastor!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

It was the young lad he had hired for the smooth running of his little business. Oliver had been thrown to the streets having been unable to pay his rent and Alastor had found him shivering in a corner of the street. Taking pity on him, the radio host offered him a job and a place to stay near the studio. Since then, Oliver had become a rather loyal help to him. Had it not been for his astounding marketing skills, Alastor's radio show would've been far from popular.

"Ah, Oliver!," Alastor hummed, still not looking up at him. He was rather busy making sure his studio was left prim and proper, "Do tell me, how can I be of service?"

Oliver was jumping with excitement, "Well, remember we were having a chat on how the radio station needed a few more hands to handle it, given its booming popularity?"

Alastor hummed as he repositioned the antiquities his mother had gifted him when he opened his studio.

"Well, I found someone willing to take on the ever-daunting task!" Oliver exclaimed and stepped aside, "Meet our newest employee!"

Alastor, still stuck in his own world didn't look up until he heard a sweet voice ringing through.

"Greetings, Mr. Alastor!"

His hands paused for a second. This voice... he'd recognize it anywhere. He turned around abruptly and finally looked at his overexcited acquaintance and the recently recruited employee.

It was you. His breath got caught up in his chest.

"Salutations," he said softly, his mind still not having caught up with the fact that you were in front of him, alive, "May I ask what your name is?"

You uttered what he had wanted to hear. His eyes could not believe it. After all these years, he was finally able to see you. The very person who'd become his safe haven when he was young, the person who'd comforted him during those dark times- when he ran away from home, when he felt scared and alone, the person who'd given him the pendant he wore religiously around his neck before they left.

"Oliver, " he glanced at the boy, "Do go get them a drink. It is quite unsightly for us to not treat the newest addition to our business."

Despite your protests, Oliver nodded his head and ran out the door, eager to please his boss.

When the door closed shut, Alastor let out the breath he was holding in since he saw your face.

He muttered your name, "Dear, is it really you?"

Your eyes blinked for a few seconds before they scrunched up with your growing smile, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me, Al."

Alastor laughed in disbelief, "Forget you? What utter nonsense. Forgetting you would be a sin so great that even Lucifer would shy away from it."

He slowly approached you, "Besides, " his hands went up to the pendant, "How could I afford to forget when you gifted me this?"

Your eyes shone and you giggled, "You still have that!" Your hands reached out to touch the pendant, but you hesitated and they stayed frozen in the space between the two of you.

Before you could apologize for invading his personal space, his hands drew yours closer. You stumbled forward, placing your hands on his chest, right over the pendant that lay atop it. You blushed at the sudden proximity. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you close. You dared to look up at him.

"By golly, you seem to have gotten much taller," you chuckled, pushing up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "Last I remember, you were still shorter than me."

His eyes and smile had grown softer, far from his usual demeanor.

"And you still look as beautiful as the day I lost you."

As if your face couldn't possibly get more heated, he managed to make it boiling hot. You tried uttering a response but stuttered halfway through. Taking pride in how he made you speechless, Alastor asked, "When did you arrive here?"

You finally found your voice, "O-oh, I just moved in yesterday! I needed a fresh new environment after having finished my schooling and I decided to come here. I was looking around for a job this morning when I stumbled upon Oliver and he offered me a position at your radio station!"

Alastor tsked, still holding you close, "Cher, you cannot just accept some stranger's proposal for a job. What if he lured you into something dangerous?"

"He told me about your radio show and I trust you with my life so...." you trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alastor chuckled as he shook his head. Letting go of you, he stepped back to pick up the coat that was hanging on his chair. Just as he was doing so, the door burst open to reveal Oliver with a piping hot kettle and a mug.

"I do apologize. Mr. Alastor here only likes drinking coffee so we have no other beverages available," Oliver explained, as he placed the utensils down on the nearby table.

"That won't be necessary now, dear boy," Alastor continued, "I'll be showing them around our city. Do keep the studio prepared and the articles ready for the evening broadcast."

And with that, he offered you his arm, "Shall we?"

You grinned and looped your arm around his and the two of you walked out, leaving behind a very confused Oliver.

"What just happened-"

Alastor's smile widened at the memory. He vividly remembers spending every waking hour with you beside him, now that he'd found you again. He had grown terribly attached to you, but you did not mind it one bit. You enjoyed the attention he showered you with and his company was something you looked forward to each day.

Oliver always joked about the two of you getting together. So it wasn't a surprise to him when you two eventually started courting each other. All he did was lament about being the miserable third wheel.

Alastor remembers how his daily "escapades" had reduced significantly with the more time he spent with you. He did not even realize that fact until the newspapers reported on the disappearance of the New Orleans Boogeyman.

His smile had strained when he'd read the article, his anger growing by every second. How dare they think of him as a coward?

However, all those thoughts dissipated at the sound of your voice. Oh, how you had captured his mind, body, and soul.

He introduced you to his ma soon after he started courting you. Although she couldn't see you properly, given her ailing health and age, she still welcomed you with open arms.

As he stopped going on his "hunts" frequently, his relationship with you grew stronger. You were there with him in every new chapter of his life. When he celebrated his 100th broadcast, you were there celebrating with him. When he experimented with his own twist on his mother's jambalaya, you were right there tasting his creation. When his mother eventually passed away, you were right there comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

On his 30th birthday, you gave him a gift he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He had been complaining about how only one of his eyes had problems with vision and that wearing a pair of glasses proved to be detrimental to his other healthy eye. Taking that into consideration, you had gifted him a monocle. You apologized for how small the gift was and told him that he could return it if he wasn't pleased with it. He had silenced you with a kiss.

You were all he thought about. A life with you beside him was everything he wanted. That is why, he stood there in front of the jewellery shop, inspecting and choosing the perfect ring to propose to you with.

When he was satisfied with his pick, he had stored the little box inside his coat pockets. Oh, how he wished his ma was there to witness all of this. She had always wanted to see him married to someone, happily living the rest of his life under the love and care of his spouse.

Things were just perfect, more than ever before.

Until karma came knocking on his door. Literally. His dead heart still pains at the memory.

Alastor had never lost control of his life after he "took care" of his father. He prided himself on that. It was the control he was after, once he landed in hell and that is what made him a formidable overlord.

But the day he lost you? He'd never felt more helpless.

Alastor brushed some dirt off his clothes as he hummed to the tune of the radio playing in the background. His calm demeanor would fool most but he was undeniably nervous.

Today was the day he would ask you to be his, forever.

Alastor had called you to the little cabin he'd bought in the forest, which also served as his hunting ground- be it for deer or despicable humans.

No matter the atrocities he committed, one could not deny how beautiful the forest looked at night. Fireflies would scatter across the expanse of the land, making nighttime all the more lovelier.

Alastor had planned to get down on one knee with the night sky lit by stars and the glow from the fireflies. He believed it would be the perfect romantic atmosphere to propose to you.

Not long after, he heard a knock at the door. His smile grew impossibly large as he giddily opened the door. Instead of seeing you, however, his face was met with the end of a gun.

"See you in hell, murderer."

Alastor quickly ducked out of the way, letting the bullet whiz past him and hit the wall. The man who held the gun let out a grunt, displeased that his shot missed. Although the man was twice his size, Alastor was able to tackle him to the ground. Still, the man would not let go of his gun, leading the two of them to struggle for the weapon.

"You fucker- you deserve to die for what you did!" screamed out the man.

Alastor let out a laugh, his face looking strained, "I just did what those scums deserved."

In the middle of their struggle, the trigger was pulled once more and Alastor heard the gunshot. The bullet missed him again, this time shooting toward the entrance of the cabin. He hadn't looked away from his opponent for a moment, fearing he'd take advantage of the situation and kill him. However, his ears picked up a singular gasp.

His eyes widened as he looked towards the door, left ajar.

It was you.

Bleeding out of your skull.

Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring at Alastor. Your body trembled as you slid down the door, blood profusely dripping from your head and onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Then, with a loud thump, you fell back, taking your last breath.

Alastor felt his soul leave his body.

no...no...surely this was a dream, right?

Taking advantage of Alastor's vulnerability, the man shoved him aside and got up on his feet, pointing the gun at Alastor.

"Too bad the little missus had to go. It wouldn't have happened if you did not do what you did," the man sneered.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Alastor took ahold of his gun and with all the strength in his body, pushed it out of the man's grasp. The gun flew to the side of the cabin, leaving the man unarmed.

Alastor stood up slowly, his facial muscles stretching in a maniacal grin. The man backed down slowly, his body trembling slightly.

"YOU. MADE. A. GRAVE. MISTAKE."

With that, Alastor pounced on the man and started beating him relentlessly, laughing all the while. He did not stop till the man's face had become red and blue beyond recognition and his chest stopped heaving.

Silence enveloped the cabin. In it was Alastor- his hands covered in blood, and two bodies. Alastor walked away from the dead body of the man and moved towards your lifeless figure.

Despite his maniacal grin still present, his eyes welled up with tears as he held your body close. His heart throbbed with immense pain and his mind turned foggy. All he could do was cry into your shoulder, wishing this was all a dream.

The night he was supposed to end with you as his spouse-to-be had now turned into him burying the love of his life. When he was done, he reached out for a stone and carved your initials on it, placing it atop your grave. He sat there for a while. His hands reached into his pocket and he pulled out the ring. He placed it on the stone.

His chest pained as he walked away from your grave. He would come back soon, he just had to dispose of the scum that decided to take his light away from him. Just as he started to turn the wheelbarrow that contained the remains of the man, he heard another gunshot.

This time, it did not miss.

Alastor fell to the floor of the forest. He sidled up to your grave painstakingly, abandoning the wheelbarrow. Blood poured rapidly from his head. Those god-awful hunters had shot him under the cover of this grim night. He somehow managed to rest himself against the tree that was situated right beside your resting place.

"Oh cher, " he wheezed out, "I suppose I wouldn't mind dying next to you."

As if things couldn't get worse, he heard the growls of the hunting dogs close by. His grin widened. So this was how karma came around, taking everything away from him. All that was left was himself.

His bleary eyes followed the imposing figures of the hunting dogs as they surrounded his dying body.

He reached out his hand towards the pendant.

Alastor couldn't even scream when the beasts tore into his body.

"Alastor?"

The radio demon turned towards the princess of hell, her hands laden with plans for the hotel.

"Yes, dear?"

Charlie hesitated, "You seemed a bit lost there. Are you ok?"

Alastor let out a laugh, "Just as jolly as the day I came to hell. Haha!"

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x angel!reader

[marzaid]

Time travel AU where post canon Lan Qiren travels back in time to when Wei Wuxian is 4 and has just lost his parents. Lan Qiren may hate the man (now boy), but he still follows the rules strictly and will not kill. Instead, Lan Qiren finds a 4 year old Wei Wuxian cowering in an alley hiding from dogs. He protects the boy because the rules tell him that it is his duty to do so.

There is a spiteful part of him that wants to send this boy far away. However, he reconsiders when he thinks of how the Wei Wuxian in his previous life created Demonic Cultivation when left unattended. The best way to keep the boy in line, Lan Qiren figures, is to raise him himself as a ward. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, they say.

So that is exactly what Lan Qiren does.

Wei Wuxian is brought back to the Cloud Recesses and raised as a ward alongside Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji. Lan Qiren would prefer otherwise, but he doesn't trust anyone else but himself to control Wei Wuxian.

As time goes by, Wei Wuxian proves to be the same and different to the one that Lan Qiren knew previously. He's energetic and mischievous, carefree, with a love for teasing others. Every bit as genius and inventive as Lan Qiren knew of the boy in his previous life. However, there was a strong sense of justice that he didn't notice the last time (or refused to see, but it would take years for him to admit to himself).

And Wei Wuxian thrives in a way that Lan Qiren didn't expect. He knew that Wei Wuxian was powerful and intelligent, yet he did not realize just how so. As much as the boy loved to tease and joke around, he could also be found in the Library Pavilion studying whatever random topic caught his interest. Talking everyone's ears off on what he learned or ways that certain things can be improved upon.

It infuriates Lan Qiren to no end because many times, Wei Wuxian is right. Many times, Wei Wuxian just needs guidance to find the right direction or a different perspective. Since Lan Qiren was raising him alongside his own nephews, the people that Wei Wuxian goes to the most are them: Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji. The latter two always happy and excited to discuss the myriad topics, while the former confused as to the feelings he's having for the boy.

Lan Qiren's sister-in-law passes, and Wei Wuxian kneels next to Lan Wangji in the snow for hours silently in comfort. It's the first indication that the boy is secretly kind and compassionate (not so much if had he paid attention the last time and rid himself of clouded judgments). It's the event that causes the two boys to be inseparable. Of course Lan Qiren is worried but, he tells himself that he will not let them marry. He will not let Wei Wuxian turn into that evil man he ended up being.

Years keep going by, and Lan Qiren finds himself slowly warming up to Wei Wuxian. He's there for many important firsts (losing his teeth, golden core formation, getting his sword, etc). He will never admit that his heart squeezed when the boy accidentally calls him A-die without thinking because he's so excited about something he's learned.

Jiang Fengmian comes to the Cloud Recesses when he finds out that Weo Wuxian is there. Desperately, he tried to convince Lan Qiren to let the boy become a part of Yunmeng Jiang. But Lan Qiren is adamant in his refusal. The boy was raised there the last time and look at how he ended up! He doesn't know that this fundamentally changed Wei Wuxian's destiny. From a tragic hero given a second chance to a free boy allowed to be happy.

The Jiang sect leader mentions during this visit that Wei Wuxian owes Lan Qiren a life debt. It's something that hadn't crossed Lan Qiren's mind. Not really. He had been raising the boy selfishly to change a horrible future. Sure. However, it was against the rules and his own morals to demand a child pay reparations to be allowed to live. He has felt the same way when Lan Sizhui, his good perfect Lan Sizhui, had been adopted into the family. To Lan Qiren, it was unfathomable to demand payment from a child in such ways.

And anyway, Wei Wuxian's genius was already making itself known. If the boy invented even half of what he came up with in his previous life (Lan Qiren crossed his fingers for no Demonic Cultivation), then the Lan Sect would be paid in full from the proceeds.

Still, years continued to creep by, and Lan Qiren began to feel pride in Wei Wuxian. He followed the rules decently well, received his punishment with little protest, and had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. The boy could be seen at any given moment debating an array of topics with seniors, elders, and peers.

When Wei Wuxian started going on night hunts with Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, the three became known as the Three Jades of Lan. Pride bloomed even more in Lan Qiren's heart. He had successfully turned Wei Wuxian into a good and polished man. What he didn't realize was that he gave structure to a boy who needed it and didn't make him feel guilty for existing.

The Wens came and tried to burn the Cloud Recesses down but didn't succeed. Between Lan Qiren, Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji, the wards were strengthened, and the books copied and protected. The Sunshot campaign took longer to fight because Wei Wuxian had learned long ago of the dangers to the mind and body that it caused. He had also learned that he shouldn't rip himself apart to help others. Lan Qiren had implored the boy to never try and had used the boy's love and adoration for Lan Xichen and especially Lan Wangji to convince him.

After the Sunshot campaign, Wei Wuxian comes to Lan Qiren about the innocent Wens cultivator and noncultivator alike. By this point, Lan Qiren can agree that innocent people should not die because of selfish greed and blind prejudice. There are years of trials completed by a multisect jury. The Wen sect survives but becomes a minor sect by the time the trials and reparations are completed. Under Wen Qionglin, they focus on medicine and archery.

Wen Qionglin swears brotherhood with Wei Wuxian. It doesn't surprise Lan Qiren in the least bit. Had it been a lifetime ago, it would've infuriated him yet with all these years and direct dealings with Wen Qionglin, he respects the boy. Admires the gentleness that hides a fierce strength and sense of justice. Especially admires Wen Qing, who Lan Xichen ends up falling for and marrying. Again, had it been a lifetime ago, he would've lost his mind. Now, Lan Qiren can see Wen Qing for her genius, her directness, strictness, and her advancements in medicine.

After Lan Xichen and Wen Qing marry, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian approach Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen to ask about marriage. There is no denying them at this point because he knows that the Wei Wuxian of his previous life is nothing like this current Wei Wuxian (he is but Lan Qiren has no one to admit it to). And anyway, he knows the two will simply elope if denied.

It's several years later, when Lan Qiren finally sits Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Lan Xichen down and tells them a story from a lifetime ago in a forgotten timeliness that may exist somewhere out there if you believe in multiple universes (not surprisingly Wei Wuxian does). They patiently listen as Lan Qiren details everything. There is silence for a long, unbearable moment when he's finished speaking.

Eventually, it's broken by a hug from Wei Wuxian, "Thank you, A-die, for giving me another chance in this life."

"I should be the one thanking you, A-Ying," Lan Qiren says softly, himself grateful for his second life.

#mdzs #the untamed #Lan Qiren #Wei Wuxian #Wei Ying #mdzs fic #the untamed fic #Lan Wangji #Lan Zhan #Wangxian #Lan Xichen #me writing a fic in 2024?! #holy shit more likely than you think #this is good uncle Lan Qiren though he probably selfishly wants to be bad uncle #he just adopted a child amd thought he wouldnt grow to love the boy as his own son #what a moron

[theemporium]

💰with Sirius??? He would absolutely just spoil spoil spoil reader with everything. Like that trend with dogs where the owners buy everyone the dog sniffs, he’d be following reader and buying anything she even vaguely grazes. She def hates it and feels bad everytime but he’s like “let my family’s name do one good thing for me and let me spend it all on you”

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Sirius, put it down.”

“But you want it.”

“No, I don’t—”

“Love, I saw you staring at it for the last five minutes,” he countered, almost looking far too smug for your liking. 

“Just because I look at something doesn’t mean you have to buy it for me,” you snapped back at him, trying to fight the urge to glance down at all the bags of stuff he had bought you during your trip through Diagon Alley so far. The pile was only getting bigger and it was starting to make you feel nauseous. 

“But I want to buy it for you,” Sirius said with an easy smile on his face. “Would you really stop my happiness and wants because of your own selfishness, love?”

You shot him a look.

“In fact, this might be the only thing that brings me joy,” he continued as he stepped over the bags and reached for you. “This might be the only source of happiness in my sad, sad life.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous, Sirius Black.”

“No, I am just a man from a tragically rich family who wants to use his money to spoil his girl instead of buying those atrociously ugly dressing robes my mother keeps hinting at,” Sirius retorted, his nose scrunching up in disgust at the mere mention of the robes. “I saw Lucius in them the other day. It looked like a Hippogriff threw up on him.”

This time you let out a full laugh, boisterous and bellyful and definitely out of place in the high-end jewellers you were both currently standing in.

“Hm, although that laugh is a close second in making me happy,” Sirius murmured with a fond smile on his face.

“You do this every time,” you complained as your hands fisted the material of his shirt, fingers smoothing over the buttons. “You butter me up so I give in and let you buy me stuff.”

“It’s a strategy,” Sirius said proudly. “And it works.”

“You need to stop it before you waste all your money on me,” you told him with a shake of your head.

“It would never be a waste if it was on you, love,” Sirius told you, though his words were thick with emotion and sincerity as he cupped your face in his hands. “I want to give you everything you deserve.” 

“But all I want is you,” you countered. “You are more than enough for me, Sirius. I don’t need you to flash or flaunt your money on me.”

“Yeah, but I like seeing the way you try to hide that smile of yours whenever you wear something I bought you,” Sirius said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “And I think that little diamond thing would look gorgeous on you.”

“It’s called a choker,” you laughed. 

“I thought that was my job,” Sirius grinned back at you.

“Sirius!”

“What?! I am being serious!”

.

#cece's slumblurb party #sirius black #marauders #harry potter #hp #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders one shot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter one shot #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot

[geektasticjustine]

Three thoughts on the finale of Attack of Titan. Hear me out here on all of it, whether you agree or not, please, because I think I make a really great point at the end.

1) I don’t know why the ending got so much hate. I know I’m going to get a lot of heat for it, but as a writer myself, I thought the poetic and heart searing nature of the end, despite how painful the situation was, was brilliantly done. I’m not sure what the issue was. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t really happy. But it was right.

2) Levi’s character arc was absolutely bang on. He’s my favorite character, so I had to say that. The Eruri in me wants to point out that Erwin’s was the last face to disappear for him. Romantic or not, that tie between them was strong af.

3) The boy walking through the tree. It just keeps happening. It’s why there were beast titans that were dinosaurs in one of the openings. It will never end. There are just generations of titans, just like war destroys everything and then is rebuilt, the titans are wiped out and then re-emerge. It’s horrifying, but my god. It’s the tragic cycle of the world, isn’t it?

Oh, and one more thing: Eren did horrible things. No denying that. But he was a child with the fate of the world in his hands. An idiot with more power than he could handle. As we all are. As are each of our nations. Everyone who can wield a weapon is an idiot with too much power.

#attack on titan spoilers #attack on titan #levi ackerman #eren yeager #Eruri #Erwin smith

[mcverse]

hi!!!! i have a req for neteyam x na’vi reader with a “marriage of convenience” trope. where reader does genuinely try to make it work with neteyam, but after months of being shut down she stops trying after talking to kiri. neteyam has always treated reader as a duty to be fulfilled, but LOWKEY has feelings for her he keeps SUPPRESSSSEDDDDD. however, after one of readers good friends from another clan visits, neteyams jealousy gets hold of him. you could make the rest however you’d like, but happy ending please🫶🏽

Pairings: Neteyam x F! Na’vi! Reader

Type: One Shot

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Angst, Miscommunication, slight jealous, not proof read, edited to fix mess ups

Side Bar: You’re amazing for requesting this! Thank you!!!

Avatar Masterlist

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+, and although I can't monitor who reads my work, if you are not 18+ I advise that you do not engage in my page or stories.

Love, that elusive and mysterious emotion, has captivated you since you first heard about it. The concept of love is a feeling of warmth, passion, and a connection that's deeper than anything else, impossible to ignore. It's terrifying and exhilarating, often filled with moments of joy, uncertainty, and vulnerability.

But falling in love? That's a whole different story. It's like the world suddenly shifts into a whole new perspective. Colors are brighter, sounds are louder, and everything you didn't care about before suddenly becomes beautiful and captivating.

Your thoughts, your mind, your body - everything is consumed by the object of your affection. No amount of daydreaming or silly little creepy crawlers in your tummy could ever prepare you for finally being seen by them, for being loved by them.

It's tragic that not everyone has the luxury of falling in love for themselves. In many clans, people come together for the benefits of both parties. Love becomes an afterthought when situations arise, and it breaks your heart. It's almost like love becomes foreign to them, despite having found it on their own.

But to be forced into a relationship of convenience, not truly knowing the other person, is frightening and challenging. They're a stranger, and it feels so wrong to love them. It's like they weren't made for you, like Eywa didn't create them for you. And it hurts. It's a deep, stabbing pain in your chest that never truly goes away.

Why is it that anyone but you is allowed to love who they want?

The thought reverberates in your mind, a constant reminder of the burden you bear. Love, the very essence of Na’vi emotion, was supposed to be a choice, a right, not a privilege granted by duty. But there you are, trapped in a loveless relationship, forced into a union that you never wanted.

"It's your duty," they told you, as if that was supposed to make it easier. As if it was supposed to alleviate the guilt and the pain. "You will learn to love Neteyam, the chief of the Omaticaya Clan." It was always for the greater good, always about the needs of the clan. "This alliance will strengthen the Na'vi, it is the will of your father."

But what about your will? What about your heart? You didn't want to learn to love someone; it wasn't realistic, it was forced. The very idea of it was distressing, and it made you sick just thinking about it.

You knew, deep down, that it wasn't about how you felt, though.

It was clear as you saw your future mate leave your shared hut hurriedly, feeling the weight of the unspoken understanding between you. He was just as much a victim of this situation as you were, and it was obvious that love was an afterthought to him, just as it was to your people. You were just a means to an end, a pawn in a game that you never asked to play.

But you had to play along, no matter how unbearable it got. You sought him out against your better judgement, watching him like always from the distance at first. It was justified, your future mate was intimidating in both height and build. If he wanted to, he could break you easily, ridding you of existence due to your constant annoyance over the past few months.

When you finally work up the nerve, the training session have ended and you use that time approach him, fiddling with the small basket of Yovo fruits, “Ma Neteyam,” you called out to him, grabbing his attention immediately.

He tenses up, his face hardening as he motions with his head for the last young warrior to leave before giving his attention back to you, “Ma [Name], what are you doing here?” He asked, eyes flickering to the basket. His hands twitched by his side but remained there.

“I knew you would be training hard, Neteyam, so I thought I'd bring you a treat," you said, smiling up at him. You cringed inwardly at how needy you must look, reminding yourself why you had to get along with him.

Neteyam's lips formed a tight line, and his forehead creased as if he were pondering something difficult. Finally, he bowed his head to you. "That's kind of you," he said, his eyes drifting off to the side. "But I don't want any. Perhaps the trainees would?"

You could tell he was playing the nice card, as he always did. What he really meant was, "I don't want anything from you." Your ears flattened against your head in disappointment, and you lowered the basket.

"Of course," you said, trying to hide your disappointment. "What a great idea. Do you mind giving it to them then?" You raised the basket, suddenly feeling the weight of it more heavily than before, and offered it to him.

As Neteyam took the basket from you, you couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope. Maybe this time would be different. But as his fingers brushed yours, you felt him pull away as if your touch was toxic. His reaction stung, but you tried to hide it as he turned away from you.

"Of course," he muttered, barely looking at you.

You couldn't stand how he was treating you. It seemed like no matter how hard you tried, he was always shutting you out. You couldn't help but wonder if he was even trying to make this work.

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, you couldn't force him to love you, but on the other hand, you couldn't bear the thought of being alone if he doesn’t come around. The fact that this was all just for the benefit of your clans didn't make it any easier.

You tried to salvage the conversation, “Will I see you for dinner?” You tried again to make the effort, only to be shot down immediately, no hesitation whatsoever.

“I have patrols. Don’t wait up.” He left soon after, leaving you frustrated and hopeless. Nothing you ever do is reaching him, was he made out of actual rock?

It's annoying how one-sided everything feels.

You always initiate contact, never the other way around. You bring him gifts, participate in his customs and traditions, and cook for him, only to be met with silence or absence. And yet, you continue to do it all with a forced smile, hoping that one day he'll see your effort and reciprocate.

But the reality is, you don't know how much longer you can keep up this charade of a marriage. From the outside, it's a picture-perfect union, respected by all. But inside, you barely speak to each other and can't stand being in the same room together for more than a few minutes. It's like there's too much space, yet you feel suffocated at the same time.

You expressed how you felt later that day with Kiri, as you always do. She, along with her youngest brother, Lo’ak understood what it was like to feel different from her people—soon to be your people. So it felt right confiding in her, knowing she gets you when your future mate doesn’t make the effort to try.

Kiri sat next to you, intently fixing a necklace for one of the clanmates who had messed up. As she worked, she spoke softly, "That's unlike my brother, I don't understand why he's acting like this towards you." She gave you a sympathetic look before continuing, "I know it's frustrating, but give it some more time."

You couldn't help but let out a frustrated huff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "That's all I've been giving. When is enough time enough?" you asked, your voice tinged with annoyance. You knew you weren't exaggerating or imagining things.

Kiri paused her work, considering your words for a moment before offering a suggestion. "Perhaps you need to approach it differently. Focus on yourself, as he focuses on the village. Maybe then he'll realize that he should have been focused on you too."

You looked at her with surprise, not expecting such wise advice from her. As she placed the finished necklace on the low table, you smiled genuinely for once, feeling a glimmer of hope. This was the best advice she had ever given you, and you knew it was time to stop waiting for him to come to you and start putting your own feelings first.

After thanking Kiri and complimenting her handiwork, you left her hut feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The air felt fresher and lighter, as if the weight of your worries had been lifted off your shoulders.

From that moment on, you threw yourself back into your tsakarem training, determined to become a skilled and respected member of the Omaticaya clan. By immersing yourself in their culture and customs, you began to feel a deeper connection to both the people and the land.

This newfound sense of belonging also opened up new opportunities for you to assist with the day-to-day tasks of the tribe, and in return, they offered their guidance and support to help you adjust to your new way of life.

The perfect example would be currently, where you were in your hut crushing herbs that Tuk had brought you after hearing you asking about them. You were actually happy knowing Neteyam’s family were warming up to you. But Neteyam was still distant.

As you crushed the herb, you couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration and hurt. You had heard countless stories about the Omaticaya chief, Neteyam, and his unwavering loyalty and attentiveness to his people. Yet, when it came to you, his soon-to-be mate, he seemed to give you the cold shoulder.

You had tried to make him a priority in your life, but it seemed like he didn't feel the same way. Why did he get to act like he didn't want you while you had to pine after him? It didn't make sense to you, especially since you were in an arranged marriage for the sake of your clans' alliance.

As you were lost in thought, you were startled by the sound of your hut's entrance swooshing open. You looked up to see Aeknim, one of your close friends from your old home, smiling at you. "[Name], I was hoping you were here!" he exclaimed, taking a seat across the low table from you.

“Aeknim, what are you doing here?” You asked, curious about the goofy grin on his face. You haven’t seen him since you left, to come out of the blue must be important.

He chuckled, raising his head high, “I have found a worthy mate.” He proudly said, patting his chest with his right hand for a job well done.

You put down the pestle you were holding and clasped his hands in yours, "That's amazing news, my friend! Tell me all about her." As he shared the details of his new love, you couldn't help but feel happy for him.

Aeknim spent the afternoon telling you all about his new mate while you caught up on old times. You even forgot about your tsakarem training for the day, knowing that there were other healers in the village who could cover for you. One day wouldn’t hurt.

As night fell and it was time for Aeknim to depart, you walked him to the edge of the village to say goodbye. You ignored the curious glances from your fellow villagers as you hugged your friend tightly and bid him farewell, wishing him well on his journey and sending him off with some healing ointment in case he needed it.

When you approached your hut coming back, you noticed Neteyam standing in front of it, his expression inscrutable as he watched you approach with a predatory gaze. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, wondering what had brought him here.

Without preamble, he demanded, "Who was that?"

Confused, you asked, "Who was who?"

Neteyam inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tensing as he closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they blazed with an intensity that made you take a step back. "The man you were walking around the village with," he said, his voice deeper than usual as he stepped closer to you. He bent his head, allowing a few braids to fall into his face. "That's who I'm talking about."

You recoiled at the sudden change in Neteyam's demeanor. The tension emanating from him was uncomfortable and you couldn't maintain eye contact with him any longer. As you tried to process his words, you looked away.

Aeknim was the man he was referring to, but you couldn't fathom why Neteyam was so bothered by you walking with him. You decided to meet his intense gaze again, but his eyes, usually a bright yellow, were darker and it made you shudder.

"Yes, Aeknim came to visit me," you confirmed, hoping to dispel any misunderstandings.

"He came to see you?" he repeated, furrowing his brow in confusion. He leaned back slightly and asked, "Why did he come to see you?"

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden interest in your life. You couldn't recall a time when Neteyam cared about what you did or who you spent time with, and it annoyed you that he was being so attentive now.

"Why does that matter to you?" you asked, your tone defensive as you tried to keep the frustration out of your voice. You noticed his tail swishing behind him aggressively, and it only served to make you more uneasy.

Neteyam didn’t like what he was hearing. No, he didn’t like what he was seeing. His mate was defending another male, it made him sick inside and angry… the only male you should be protecting is him.

"You are my mate--" he began, but you cut him off, your ears flattening against your head at his words. You could feel your own anger rising, a fierce determination filling you.

"Yet, I am not your mate yet," you corrected him, standing your ground. You had done nothing wrong, so where was this interrogation coming from? It was almost as if he had lost his mind.

Eywa help him.

Neteyam shook his head, his braids swaying with the movement. "Now and then, you are my mate!" he spat, his face scrunched up in disgust. "Who visits my mate late into the night is my concern. You are my concern."

“You have an interesting way of showing concern for your mate, especially over the last few months,” you retorted, holding back a scoff as you watched confusion flash across Neteyam's face.

“Did you forget? Because I certainly haven't,” you continued, your expression softening slightly as you finally allowed your exhaustion to show.

It had been a constant struggle trying to reach him, and now is the time you choose to feel vulnerable, “You've been distant while I've been trying to connect with you. Not cold, necessarily, but you might as well have been with your absence.”

Neteyam's face softened as realization dawned on him as you continued, “I had to learn how to live here from people other than you. Your family has been around more than you have.” You finished, waiting for a response, but he simply stood there, eyes lowered towards the ground.

This time your scoff freely at him, honestly disappointed. You thought this conversation was getting somewhere, somehow to a point where you can come to some sort of agreement but there he goes again avoiding you.

Having enough of him, you brush pass him to enter the hut, “Of course, you have nothing to say.” You expected him to leave after that, like he does every morning to get away from you but he enters behind you, his expression morphed into determination.

“I have nothing to say,” he started, standing in the doorway, despite his expression, his body betrayed him as he’s slightly hunched over and his ears a deep purple, “because I don’t know how else to act with the one who I’ve already fallen in love with, but haven’t fallen for me yet.”

His words catch you off guard, and you turn to face him fully, shoulders losing its tenseness, “What?” You can’t believe he just said that. He loves you?

“I’ve noticed you more than you noticed me. I know that your actions mean nothing to you, while if I returned them, it would mean everything to me.” He started walking towards you, “I know your feelings you display towards me are not genuine. I know you don’t want to mate with me. I know and still can’t help but fall.” He stops a feet away from you, eyes trailing over your face.

“How can I do those things knowing what it means to me, that you don’t see me like I see you.” He finished, looking you in the eyes. There they were, bright yellow, nothing like the other harsh color. He looked as you expectedly, gentle, yearning and vulnerable.

Your throat tightened with emotion as you gazed up at him. His confession was a shock, but a welcome one. It was as though a veil had been lifted, and you saw him in a new light. Perhaps you had been blind to his feelings, too caught up in your own concerns. Perhaps you had been the one in the wrong all along, insensitive to his emotions, and acting selfishly.

Looking at Neteyam now, you saw a man baring his soul to you. He was hoping for your acceptance and understanding, acknowledging his mistakes and making an effort to set them right. You saw him in a new light: gentle, kind, compassionate, and fierce - just as all the stories said.

How could you have missed this before?

"I had no idea," you said, your voice quivering with emotion as tears welled up in your eyes. "I was so focused on my own desires that I neglected to ask about your true feelings."

Neteyam shook his head, "It was my fault for not showing you how I truly felt. If I had, we wouldn't be in this position now."

You chuckled softly, tilting your head down as you brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "You're right about that," you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours. Bringing it to your chest, you looked up at him with a shy smile. "But it doesn't matter. I see you, Neteyam. All of you."

Neteyam's eyes lit up, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He looked so handsome and carefree, and you couldn't help but think that this was what had been holding him back all this time.

"I see you too, [Name]. I always have," he said, pulling you close to him. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

Maybe you can learn to love him, wholeheartedly and authentically.

Edit: Thank you for all the likes and reblogs! Means a lot ❤️ Helpful hint for reblogs, be sure to add # to be found

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New post : all my life I had to fight, Lo’ak x human! reader

#neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam #⋆✾ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ!! — ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #atwow headcanons #atwow fanfiction #atwow x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fic #neyetam #neteyam fluff #atwow neteyam #avatar #atwow #avatar way of water #kiri x sister!reader #neteyam x reader fluff

[shuttershocky]

I think what I loved the most about Dungeon Meshi's finale is that the opportunity was there to have a bittersweet, almost tragic ending in the Winged Lion's Curse, but the end result is instead extremely funny and is only a tragedy to the person it targeted, which is so quintessentially Dungeon Meshi.

Every reader (and Laios himself) thinks that the Demon cursing Laios so that his deepest desire will never be fulfilled as vengeance for defeating it would mean that all of his efforts to save Falin would come to nothing, and it would have even made narrative sense. The entire journey was about accepting death and change; if Falin was truly gone then they would have had to accept that they tried their best and have to let her go.

But no. Chilchuck rightfully calls it, there's no fucking way the curse would mean Falin's death. As much as Laios loves his sister, there is one thing that he loves more than anything else in the world, and it's monsters.

So the end result of the curse is that Laios' kingdom is now a safe haven free of all monsters as none of them wish to go near him, his extensive research into food science has created a continent of plenty, his legendary defeat of the demon and the monsters of the dungeon has given him the badass name of The Devourer, and everyone he loves gets to stay with him for as long as he lives as he has gained political power to force entire nations to bend the knee. He should be truly happy.

But, not really. He will never get to see a living monster again when they're all terrified of The Devourer King. He will spend the rest of his days never again able to study the special interest that has defined his entire life, even if the tradeoff is creating paradise for all peoples.

But for everyone else it fucking rules though. Thank you for taking one for the team, Laios.

#Dungeon Meshi spoilers #spoilers

[carlyraejepsans]

Do you have a timeline for when you believe the humans fell underground (including Chara + Frisk)?

Well not necessarily anything specific. just a few things that mark some VERY wide margings for what i have in mind

Chara fell in 201X, as per the calendar with the circled date.

This was after the Dreemurrs (and thus monsterkind in tow) already left Home to explore the rest of the mountain and settled in New Home. This is deduced by the wall writings in Waterfall, which bemoan the underground's inaccessibility, saying there's no way a human could ever make its way down there.

So New Home already existed (or was soon going to be founded, if the plaques were written while the monsters were still exploring) before any human had fallen into the Underground at all.

However! The childhood room in Home is referred to as Asriel's room in both the game files and in the art book (the screenshot is from the Home segment of the book)

Which would mean Asriel was born close enough in time to the monsters' banishment to be alive when they migrated further into the caverns (and to already have personal interests, like astronomy), and that he was likely snooping around his previous home in the RUINs by chance when he found Chara.

I think Chara spent a LOT of time with the Dreemurrs... but less so chronologically. They likely had reset powers like all humans who fall into the Underground as a consequence of their high DT (from the Undertale Legends of Localization book):

(I actually think this was the intended implication with their inappropriately light approach to death and pain, ie: laughing in that one videotape about making Asgore sick), so I like to think that, while they obviously stuck around for a long time, they techincally were only with the Dreemurrs for 1, maybe 2 linear years. Which would explain why they seem... hesitant to call them their child/sibling. From their perspective, it was too soon for those words at the time. Either that or Chara was uncomfortable with familiar terms for whatever reason. I tend to ping-pong between the two.

Chara dies and so does Asriel -> Asgore cringe comp -> Toriel bails.... And then bam, the next humans start falling down.

l think the entire affair took centuries in total. Surely a lot of time, enough for most commonplace monsters to have no idea what a human looks like

At LEAST one century, that is, but that is the barest minimum. There's this one line in the date with Sans at MTT resort when he's talking about his first meeting with Toriel:

Now I'm not saying Sans is aware of what's going on or that this makes incanon sense, but knowing UT's propensity for tragically poetic irony, this feels like one of those occasions.

I in my personal chronology, the humans fell either 1 or 2 per century, putting Toriel's exile between 300 and 600 years long.

The order? uhhhhh. dw about it

Thus, Frisk falls down in 2X15. Monsters are freed, everyone is happy. Yay yayay ^_^ yippee. The End.

#answered asks #undertale #metanalysis