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personasintro · 4 months

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A part of Mutual Help series!

pairing: mh!jungkook x reader

warnings: explicit language, Kiko is mentioned (this deserves it's own warning)

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: Merry Christmas! ♡

Mutual Help Series

“Oooh, what could be in here?” Taehyung muses, pursing his reddened lips that has gotten its own intense color thanks to the cold weather outside.

What was he doing outside when you've been at this place for around an hour? Flirting, of course.

“Knowing you, probably tons of condoms.” you answer, causing Taehyung to stop shaking the present he's just gotten from Jimin. It stops rattling under his grip as he shoots you a glare across the table.

Unfazed, you reach with your chopsticks for a piece of meat before you put it in your mouth. Next to you, Jungkook cackles under his breath and Jimin looks proud by your little comment.

“Well, miss I-don't-need-anyone, we all like to have our fun. Maybe you should try it.” Taehyung bites back. Though his tone sounds serious and deep with his thick accent, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

You know how far you can take it to joke with each of your friends. Taehyung's got a thick skin and there's only so little you could actually say to offend him. Not that you would ever want to. Taehyung loves jokes and fun, he loves teasing and most of the time he's the one who takes it too far but never to actually cause a damage to your friendship. Whatever he says, you know should not be taken to heart literally. Therefore, no matter what he says about your single life – you don't take it as an insult.

“Hooking up with a bunch of strangers? No thanks.”

He grins, “Maybe you should try it.”

“You offering?” you shoot right back, Jungkook choking on his soda as Jimin laughs out loud.

“You know what? Once you grow up a little, text me.”

You snort, “Stop acting as if I was a child.”

Taehyung shrugs, “No, but you're the baby of our group.”

Groaning, you frown. “Don't call me that.”

“Deny it all you want, Y/L/N but we all know the truth.”

“You guys scare almost every guy that looks at me. It beats the point of having fun.”

“Don't say shit like that, now! I'm all for you exploring and having fun.”

“Our point of fun is slightly different than hers, Tae.” Jimin comments, putting more meat to your plate as you thank him with a grateful smile. For the meat, of course. Although, he's not that off about the entire fun topic.

“We all know what kind of fun we're talking about.”

“Alright, let's move on, yeah?” Jungkook calls, shaking his head at Taehyung.

“Here we go, protective Jungkook.”

“Why do you always somehow bring up sex in every conversation?” Jungkook scolds him.

Taehyung gasps, feigning offense as he points his finger at you. “First of all, she started talking about condoms!”

Jimin laughs out loud while you shoot him a glare for being too loud. God, you hope the owners won't kick you out. Talking so publicly about sex is often frowned upon. No one who wants to enjoy their meal wants to hear someone talking about sex from the other table. Unless those people are… open like Taehyung. He's always been a bit shameless.

Jungkook glances at you upon Taehyung's finger that's directed toward you. You shrug innocently. “So what? You automatically got into it.”

“You know it doesn't take too much for me.”

“That's true.” Jimin nods along with Taehyung's response.

You laugh, “Just open the goddamn present, Tae.”

He cracks a grin and starts laughing before he rips the package open. Surprisingly, it's not condoms – you would seriously laugh your ass out if it were – but it's a box of popular male fragrances in smaller versions. You recognize all of them, silently praising Jimin for this year's present.

You all exchange presents for each other. There was an idea coming from Jimin, you think, last year to pick up a secret Santa for each year. But there's something special and thoughtful about buying everyone a gift. And it makes a slight burden to all your wallets, but nobody said the presents have to be expensive. Yet, they're always meaningful and nobody gives shitty presents here.

You meet every year before Christmas since all of you spend it with your families. You've decided to make your own and celebrate it together, even if it's beforehand. This year it has to be because you're flying back home sooner than usual.

They were kind enough to meet no matter what, said it wouldn't be the same if you weren't here.

After that is done, Jungkook is the one to take you home since Taehyung came to pick you up. There's fog everywhere with snow sitting down and not melting anytime soon. You love when there's snow around Christmas time.

On your way home, it's not that late by the time you arrive. Jungkook helps you with your presents upstairs and accepts a cup of tea you offer him with a stern look. You're quick to shed the layers of clothes and make yourself more comfortable. You bring Jungkook his tea and make a hot chocolate for yourself.

“What you got in there?” you ask, plopping next to him as the warmth and scent of home hugs you.

“A little something,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Spotting the same Christmas wrapping paper he has used for all his presents, you give him a knowing look. You're about to protest and scold the shit out of him when he shakes his head with another grin.

“Stop.”

“No, you stop!” you whine, “You already gave me your present.”

And it was great. Jungkook has given you two tickets to a water park that's located on Jeju Island. That alone tells you it wasn't quite cheap.

“It's not much, I swear.”

“But why? We all decided on one present.”

Grateful that he's so thoughtful, you're slightly annoyed that he broke the rule that perhaps never was so serious but it makes you feel bad.

“Just because.”

“That's not a valid reason.”

“Sounds very valid to me,” he sings out, teasing you a little further as you both giggle. “You'll understand it once you open it.” he finishes it with that, urging you to open it.

Hiding the heat in your cheeks, you playfully roll your eyes and start unboxing the little box he has managed to sneak in his jacket. Curiosity and excitement takes over you because Jungkook's presents are always something else. You rip the package and gasp as soon as you recognize the familiar box.

“Kook!”

“You told me you ran out the other day.”

“Did you–”

“Bought it when Jimin bought Taehyung's present? Yeah.” He answers, already knows what you were about to ask. But you're too stunned to scold him for interrupting you.

You open the box and pull out your favorite perfume. A few weeks ago, you don't even know how that conversation came up but you mentioned to him that your perfume is running out indeed. It wasn't anything intentional of course, more of a whine when you were about to spray a tiny amount as you were about to go out. You thought he was barely listening to you, urging you to rush out your ass outside. His exact words.

But he's always listening.

“I think I'm gonna be more careful what I'm about to say in front of you. You're gonna buy me everything I mentioned.” you chuckle, taking a good inhale of your favorite flowery and powdery scent. You mostly use it during warm seasons but it's a good one even in the winter.

It's your staple scent. Everyone knows it. It's special. You were using it back at home and it not only smells incredible, it also holds a certain emotional attachment you have with it.

“Don't worry about that, you're out of my budget.”

You kick the side of his thigh as you cross your legs under your butt, carefully placing the bottle on the table next to the ripped wrapping paper. “I wanted to buy it after Christmas.”

“You don't have to anymore.”

You give him a look, questioning his answer for everything as he simply justifies his thoughtfulness in the most basic manner. He always brushes it like it's nothing. But it's very special to you. He is.

In seconds, you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly. He lets out a surprised gasp, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he hugs you back. He's warm, smells like a mixture of his wooden cologne and winter air.

“Thank you.” you mumble into his shoulder before you slowly pull away. “But seriously, you should stop spending so much money on me. Don't you have a girlfriend to spend money on?”

As far as you know, she's fine with it but who knows. Jungkook isn't the type to let anyone get into your or guys' friendships. But he's also in love and people in love tend to be slightly blind, if you must say so. Not that you speak from your own experiences but well, it's quite known. And Jungkook is definitely in love.

“Don't worry about Kiko,” he assures you, “She'll get a good amount of presents too.”

“Well, I hope she loves you for you and not for your bank account.”

He scowls, causing you to give him a childish toothy grin that acts innocent. “She's not like that.”

“But I'm serious, you should stop spending so much money on people. Especially on me.”

“I spend my money however I want and you know what?” he asks with a grin, leaning closer to you as you watch him with wide eyes. “It's none of your business.” he flicks your nose with his thumb causing you to cuss him out as you push his forehead to get him away from your proximity.

“So really, just accept it.”

“You're stubborn.”

“You're telling me?” he laughs out loud as if you just told him the biggest joke.

Rolling your eyes again, you purse your lips. “I wanted to be nice, you moron.”

“Be nice by just accepting it. And the simple thanks is just enough, not needed though. The hug was very nice.”

You slap his arm in a teasing manner which causes him to laugh even more. “I'll hug you for the rest of my life.”

“Promise?” he smirks.

“I promise.” you giggle, nodding.

“Well, then Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Kook.” you smile, the warmth spreading all over your heart. Even though this year hasn't been all rainbow and sunshine, it's alright as long as you have these people right beside you.

Who cares about presents? They're nice and show the thoughtfulness behind them by each of your friends. What you need the most is just them. And the special relationship you have with each of them will hopefully last your lifetime. Because if it doesn't, nothing will ever be the same.

Without them you would feel lost. At the moment, you're anything but lost. You have your second family, hoping this tradition between you never dies and will continue years and years.

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #bts smut #mutual help #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #personasintro

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delulujuls · 1 month

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brazilian air | as12

hi, i am in my classic f1 era rn and i am currently obsessed with mr Senna god he was so fine and since it's his bday today i thought that im gonna upload this one bc why not

also im like 100% sure that this one will flop but i wanted to upload this anyway, so if you'll find it worth a shot, enjoy then!

happy bday king, 64 today but 34 forever, you'll always be missed

summary: during a month break from racing, ayrton thought that inviting y/n into his family sides will get them along even more. to the surprise to both of them, they got along even better than expected

warnings: sexual content, fingering, female orgasm

pairing: fem!mclarendriver x ayrton senna

After the Sao Paulo Grand Prix, there came a monthly break, even though it was only the second race of the season.

The end of march was very warm, but the weather in Brazil had its own rules. Just as in London there was probably a downpour and the temperature barely above ten degrees, the other side of the globe had almost holiday-like weather.

The 1990 season was the second year when Y/N took Alain Prost's seat at McLaren, thus becoming Ayrton Senna's teammate. While many did not look favorably upon Ron Dennis's decision for various reasons—because Y/N was the first woman in history to have the opportunity to race at the top level of motorsport, her debut in Formula 1, her young age, and the fact of what kind of past Senna had with his previous teammates—with each passing month the doubts started to going away.

The girl handled herself on the track incredibly well, and since McLaren did not disappoint with their cars, she practically returned from every race with points, effectively shutting the mouths of all those who spoke unfavorably about her.

Even Ayrton himself, who was initially the most unconvinced about the boss's decision, also didn't need much to change his mind about her. At first, he approached her with distance, fearing that her joining the team might cause even more damage than when they had Prost in reserve. As it turned out, the girl was not his enemy; often, he himself silenced all those who attacked her and questioned her abilities.

Senna saw that she looked up at him as her authority. She never explicitly told him, but it was evident how she listened carefully to his advice, asked when she had doubts, and consulted almost everything only with him, although she had a whole crowd of people around her.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief seeing that they tolerated each other and there were no forecasts for them to repeat the Senna-Prost scenario. However, tolerating each other was an understatement, because Ayrton would never invite someone to his family's sides whom he merely tolerated. The Brazilian didn't admit it out loud, but he liked the girl. Sometimes he even caught himself thinking about her when she wasn't around, and when she was, he smiled a lot more in her company, whereas McLaren's garage used to be a place of nerves and tense atmosphere for him.

Yes, if someone asked him about Y/N, Ayrton would say she was his friend. Someone he never had after leaving Brazil.

"How do I say in Portugese that I can't eat anymore?"

The girl asked, lying on her towel stretched out on the hull of the motorboat belonging to the Senna family.

Y/N shielded the sun with her hand and glanced at Ayrton, who laughed at her question, sitting next to her and smoking a cigarette.

"It's not funny, your mom wants to fatten me up so that I'm heavier and slower than you on the track."

"Não aguento mais, tô chei", but even if you say it in Portugese, my mom won't listen to you anyway."

"I've never eaten such delicious food, but when we get back, I probably won't fit into my clothes anymore."

He released smoke from his lungs and involuntarily glanced at her when she turned onto her stomach and closed her eyes. Her hair, still wet from bathing in the lake, stuck to her shoulders, and her skin, once pale, slowly began to take on a blush from the sun.

"You look good, so don't worry."

"I didn't say I would look bad, just that I won't fit into my pants anymore."

"As long as you can fit into the car, you'll be fine."

The girl snorted, "Well, in that case, I have quite a reserve."

Y/N gathered her hair behind her shoulder and settled more comfortably, exposing herself to the pleasantly warming rays of the sun. Ayrton glanced down her body and only when the heat from his cigarette burned his fingers a little, he snap out of it. Did he really like the girl, or was it just that he spent so much time with her that he got used to her? He didn't know the answer to that question, but he knew that sometimes he found himself staring at her for a bit too long. Despite being a few years younger than him, she had feminine charms. He also objectively thought that the girl was attractive.

She didn't have much of a different opinion about him either because in her eyes, Ayrton was indeed a handsome man. He was tall, athletic, had beautiful brown eyes and hair of the same color, which often fell in curls onto his forehead. She liked his smile and the way he wrinkled his nose, which, like most of his body, was covered in freckles. But Ayrton appealed to her only as an older teammate, someone who was completely out of her reach, and for whom she was probably just an insignificant kid. At least that's what she thought.

They spent time at the lake until late afternoon, as for dinner, besides Ayrton's parents, his sister with Bruno, his nephew, was also supposed to appear. Upon returning to the Senna family's home, the girl took only a quick shower and threw on a thin, white dress because even though the day was slowly coming to an end, the temperature was still high. They spent the evening on the terrace, and time passed in a very pleasant atmosphere. Mrs. Senna made sure that only delicious dishes appeared on the table, while Mr. da Silva entertained the company with stories and jokes. Although Y/N didn't speak anything in Portugese except for the short phrases Ayrton had taught her, there were no communication problems for a moment. At one point, little Bruno grabbed the radio and turned up the volume, pulling the girl by the hand and inviting her to dance. The girl, already somewhat tipsy from wine, agreed without hesitation and followed the six-year-old, dancing with him barefoot on the still warm concrete. Ayrton's mother and sister sang along with the song, his father clapped his hands, and Ayrton himself looked at the scene with tenderness, laughing and sipping his beer. She took the boy in her arms and spun with him, dancing, to which Bruno laughed out loud. Although Ayrton's family had only met Y/N a few days ago, he was convinced, seeing with his own eyes, how much they liked her. It meant a lot to him.

"Tio, agora tio Ayrton!"

Bruno shouted and pointed at the man when a new song started playing. Ayrton laughed and shook his head, to which his sister started pulling his arm and, to the sounds of approval from the family, he stood up and approached the girl, who put the boy down on the ground.

"Querida senhora," he extended his hand towards her, slightly bowing, "may I?"

Y/N chuckled and nodded, extending her hand, which was met with numerous shouts and whistles.

"I can't dance, I can't dance at all."

She said through laughter when he pulled her closer and placed his hand on her waist.

"Everyone can dance to Brazilian rhythms, trust me."

Ayrton replied with an assuring smile and spinned her around, catching her again after a moment. They danced, understanding each other without words, laughing only when one of them accidentally bumped into someone or stepped on someone's foot.

The girl didn't know if her cheeks were burning from the sun, the alcohol, or the fact that she felt embarrassed by being so close to him. But she felt light and happy enough not to dwell on it. She wanted this evening to last as long as possible.

However, at some point, Bruno fell asleep on the chair, and Viviane took him in her arms, announcing that she would put him to bed and she will also take a rest, wishing everyone a good night. Ayrton's mother, seeing that his dad had had enough beer, took him by the arm and, amid numerous protests, escorted him inside. The girl helped carry the dishes to the kitchen, and when she brought in the last batch of plates, Ayrton's mother hugged her tightly.

Y/N returned her embrace with a smile, wishing her a good night before returning to the terrace.

Seeing the expression on her face, Ayrton smiled too.

"They liked you, but I'm sure you noticed that yourself."

"They are very kind," the girl replied, closing the terrace doors, "you have a truly wonderful family."

Y/N approached the table and took a chair to sit on it, but Ayrton straightened up and patted his knees, indicating that she should sit on them. The girl accepted the invitation without protest and sat on them sideways, embracing him around the neck.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here with me," he said, looking into her eyes, to which she smiled.

"I'm glad you invited me."

For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, she on his lap, with her hand on his bare shoulders, he with one hand on her waist and the other caressing her exposed thigh. He raised his hand and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, touching her flushed cheek. The girl smiled at his gesture and closed her eyes.

"You're important to me, you know?"

"I am?"

She asked, looking at him again.

Ayrton nodded, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Y/N threaded her fingers into the hair resting at the base of his neck, stroking it lightly. At one point, without thinking or saying a word, he leaned towards her and kissed her. She kissed him back, touching his cheek with her other hand. Ayrton didn't break the kiss, he just hugged her tighter, pressing their bodies together. Y/N was returning each of his kisses and after a while their tongues started their love dance, rubbing against each other. Even though they were both a bit drunk, Ayrton wasn't sure how much he could afford. However, when she slightly opened her legs, giving him a silent invitation, he squeezed her thigh to which she sighed. He smiled against her lips, continuing to kiss her. He stroked her leg, moving higher and higher with each movement. When he felt the fabric of her underwear with his fingertips, he pulled away slightly, wanting to look at her face and see her reaction, but she pulled him closer again, connecting their lips in a kiss.

"Do not stop"

Ayrton smiled against her lips and deepened the kiss in response. He ran his fingers over her pussy and she purred softly. He began to slowly massage her through the fabric of her panties, but when they began to get in the way after some time, he pulled them off her with a quick movement.

His lips soon moved to her neck, marking it with kisses. She tilted her head, giving him better access to her. Ayrton accidentally slipped the strap of her dress, but neither of them cared. The girl noticed it only when he sucked on her nipple, which made her moan involuntarily.

"You have to be quiet, can you do that?"

He asked quietly, glancing at her ecstatic face. She just licked her lips and quickly nodded. He ran his tongue over her nipple again, his hand still massaging her pussy. When he felt how wet she was, he slowly inserted his finger into her, but carefully watched her face, continuing to caress her breasts with his mouth. He looked at her, wanting to make sure they were both on the same page. However, his actions were perceived with enthusiasm, as the girl tilted her head back, letting out a muffled moans from her pursed lips. Ayrton smiled to himself, still peppering her breasts with kisses. He inserted his finger all the way and started moving it, expertly nudging her inner, sensitive spot. Y/N had a hard time staying quiet, especially when he added a second finger and his movements inside her started getting more precise and decisive. The girl covered her mouth with one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other and pushed him harder into herself, feeling that she was only seconds away from orgasm.

"Ayrton, I- oh my god…"

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again and dug her nails into his bare shoulder.

"Kiss me, quick"

He said quietly, his breathing also quickening. She complied with his command and kissed him, making him muffle her moans with his mouth. Y/N came on his hand soon after, squeezing her eyes shut and tilting her head back. After a few moments, the girl sat up straight again, trying to calm her breathing. As she slowly began to realize what had actually happened, the blush on her cheeks intensified even more. She looked at him uncertainly, he laughed seeing her reaction and kissed her on the cheek.

"Don't look so innocent, you're quite a good one."

The girl felt ashamed and closed her eyes, cuddling into him, and he hugged her tightly.

"Promise me that no one in your family will sit in this chair for breakfast."

Ayrton chuckled and rubbed his hand on her back.

"I promise, don't worry about it," he rested his cheek on her head, "We can go somewhere else if you want."

The girl raised her head and looked at him.

"I won't be able to keep quiet, Ayrton. Your parents-" "Don't worry," he interrupted her, taking her panties thrown on the chair next to them and handing them to her hand, "I'll make sure you keep your mouth busy."

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #as12 #ayrton senna #ayrton senna x reader #classic f1

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hatelangdon · 7 months

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Omg just read your fav genre is whump and i literally never seen any whump blog for American Horror Story, lol...

As someone who is also obsessed with AHS and whump myself, can i possibly request a whump story for Kit Walker inside Briarcliff pls? That poor babe just suffered so much in there, but i gotta say i just love the dramatics 🤭

Tysm, I'd really appreciate that!

Fragile

Kit Walker x Fem!reader ✩ 1.2K words

Summary: Dr Arden was never a merciful man, Kit soon became an interest of his. Someone needs to extend him some kindness and nurse him back to health.

Angst, Hurt-comfort, semi-fluff

**Not proofread and probably an insane amount of commas and other errors but it'll be aight.

Warnings: (🚨 Talks about infected wounds, fever, bruising, medical abuse, Mental abuse, physical abuse, asylums, bleeding, and time period inaccuracies probably 🚨)

(A/n: Kitson, my angel, my beloved. I hate hurting him but I love the angst. Thanks for the request I didn't know what kind of whump you were interested in so I tried to combine all aspects 🤭 I was gonna k!ll him but I was feeling nice)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

You and Kit weren't too different from each other, both convicted on crimes you did not commit.

Female hysteria. That's what they call it when a woman was too smart, so a man locks her up to keep her quiet.

This was a cruelty that was extended to you by your own husband.

Kit was thrown in on convictions of murder, bloody face is what they called him. People wanted someone to pin a string of murders on, it was a convincing smear campaign that even you believed at first.

But as you got to know kit as a person, as you got to know his heart, you realized he could never be capable of inflicting so much pain, especially on a woman. His character proved his innocence.

A friendship blossomed quickly between the two of you, and a delicate love that remained unspoken. It communicated itself through stolen glances and kind words

It was something just for you two to understand.

Kit was always a gentle and kind man. He always stood up for what he believed was right which is what often got him in trouble, he was too headstrong.

It had been three days since the last time you saw him, he had been dragged away by the guards for “inciting a fight” after some pervert had tried to grope one of the newer patients without her consent, you were hoping that he had just been bent over sister Jude’s knee and caned a few times, although she was harsh she sometimes had an understanding side to her

but alas, Kit hadn't returned.

That was until today, when kit was dropped off in the community room completely unraveled from his usual charming self. His eyes were glassy and seemed to stare into a void, and his body was scuffed, scraped, and bruised all over.

“Maybe that fried some sense into you walker” The guard chuckled as he dropped kit’s limp body onto the floor right in front of the couch where you sat.

You felt your throat tighten as the tears welled up in your eyes. You kneeled down to comfort him.

Immediately you pushed his hair back, your hands gentle and forgiving against his damaged skin, you could see where the metal from the shock therapy had burned him, he must've been under it for a while. His cheeks were flushed and feverish, his breaths shallow, you could tell it was hard for him to breathe from the way he winced as his chest rose and fell, the bruises on his back made you wince, the purple wounds spread across the sides like an angel that had its wings clipped.

He leaned into your touch, scanning your face like he was trying to remember who you were, if you were kind or if you would also cause him pain. His eyes were empty and lacked their usual warmth he tried to speak to you, his attempted words becoming sobs when he noticed how you were looking at him. How you pitied him.

"y/n-" he started, his voice hoarse.

“You’re gonna be okay kit, you gotta be okay. Can you walk? I can help you, but I need to get you out of here," You shushed him

He nodded, holding onto your shoulders.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling a wet spot as you pressed your abdomens together.

You looked down...Kit was bleeding, a lot.

",we're going to our special place, okay? I stored some of my things in there"

There was a small storage closet hidden away in the corner that was accessible just down the hall, it was empty except for a couple of desks and chairs from when Briarcliff used to be a school. You and Kit would usually sneak off to smoke together and talk about what you would do when you finally got out of this hellhole.

Since you were technically a non-violent case you weren't searched as thoroughly when you arrived, In school you had received a bit of nursing training, you knew Briarcliff could be rough, you heard the stories and rumours, so you brought a first aid kit in your bags and stored it away the first day you were allowed in the common room.

You two took small unsuspecting steps towards the room making sure that the guards were not looking, as you slipped into the closet, closing the door behind you.

“Kitson, I'm going to put you down OK?” you warned him

He nodded as you gently lowered him onto the cold ground. He winced feeling the pressure against his bruised back.

You pulled the first aid kit from its hiding place in one of the desks. It was complete with some gauze pads, rubbing alcohol, a spray disinfectant, rags, medical grade needle and thread, and and a roll of bandages.

You rolled up his shirt to examine the site of the bleeding, he had been practically cut in half and badly stitched up. The wound was jagged and puffy, it was definitely infected or on its way to being.

"It was Arden," Kit managed to speak up, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath "If this takes me, you gotta tell 'em it was Arden." He cried out

"I won't let you die Kit, i'm going to save you," you tried to sound confident, for both of your sakes. You pulled one of the rags out and folded it into a thick square, placing it in between his teeth "This is going to hurt angel, you're gonna want something to bite down on."

He obliged, fully trusting you and biting down.

"Just keep breathing, it'll be over before you know it."

He looked up at you wide eyed as you shook the can of wound wash.

"3....2...1" with that, you sprayed the wound down.

Kit struggled against it, immediately crying out, his face turning bright red as the stinging engulfed his body in what felt like the fires of hell, pure agony.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's to stop the infection. The hard part is over!" You graced him with a kiss to the forehead, as he sobbed.

You covered it in some gauze, applying slight pressure to soak up the fluids of the wound, before gently wrapping his abdomen in bandages to keep it safe from further harm.

"We'll have to change this out in a couple of days instead of everyday. We don't want to run out" you sighed, removing the rag from kit's teeth.

He was still in massive amounts of pain from all of his injuries, the road to recovery would be difficult.

After laying there for a couple of minutes, while you cupped his face, gently rubbing his tears away with your thumb and cooing to him, he spoke up.

"...Arden says I got two days to recover. Then he's gonna continue his research." He swallowed, his tears falling rapidly.

"That's not going to happen, my love," You pressed his hand to your lips ever so gently "save your strength, the rumours of a tunnel to the outside are true, and I know exactly how we can get through them."

Kit looked into your eyes, a glimmer of hope shining. He even managed a small smile.

"I believe in you doll, I always have. I always will."

#ahs asylum #kit walker #fanfic #reverse comfort #evan peters #american horror story #angst #whump #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #ahs fanfic #ahs hotel #ahs coven #tate langdon #james patrick march #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x reader #kyle spencer #asylum au

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sairee · 4 months

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Together (Ghost x Soap)

Ghost and Soap destress after a mission together. Ghost takes care of Soap.

Chapter 47 excerpt from Don't Let Me Go on ao3.

Soap walked down the hall side by side with Ghost. The rest of the morning had been a blur of soldiers, debriefs, and the nurse’s office. Soap’s body felt tired, but his mind was still wired with adrenaline. Every move replayed in his head over and over again. Everything that was said or every shot that was taken was constantly occupying his mind.

In some ways it still didn’t feel real. They’d done it. Months and months of chasing down Jürgen, decommissioning every facility they could, droves of people finally getting rescued, and it all just… ended. This had taken up all of the 141’s time and now there was nothing. They weren’t waiting for intel. They weren’t waiting for victims. They weren’t waiting for new orders.

Soap could take a deep breath and see a clear future in front of him. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or what he would be doing but this never concerned him. In fact, when he looked ahead, he felt comfortable with this uncertainty. He pictured a blank canvas, one that begged for him to mark it with dreams, plans, and aspirations.

He wanted to paint his future together with Ghost.

Simon.

They walked back to their assigned room and made their way inside. With a gentle hand on Soap’s lower back, Ghost silently led them to the washroom.

“Sit on the counter,” Ghost ordered softly.

Soap sat up on it without argument. Ghost looked up at him with intense concentration, focusing on the bandage that rested overtop of Soap’s eye.

Ghost had made sure that Soap was immediately seen by the nurse on duty, everyone else a part of the infiltration also being checked for injuries and wounds in the infirmary. The nurse had a terrible poker face and the concern was written plainly on her face. But she didn’t let that affect her job and she was able to skillfully stitch his face back up together again.

Ghost hovered behind her shoulder the whole time, almost seemingly like he was one step away from backseat nursing. Soap thought it was funny, although he bit back his tongue from making jokes, it really wasn’t the time.

The nurse said that Soap was incredibly lucky that the knife had only done superficial damage to his eyelid. A few millimeters deeper and Soap could have lost his eye for good.

Ghost slowly reached forward and his fingertips softly brushed against Soap’s face. He carefully gripped the bandage and began to peel it off ever so slowly. Once it was off, Ghost’s eyes softened as he trailed them up and down the wound.

“How’s it look?” Soap joked, the light-hearted comment hiding the small amount of concern he felt.

“Not bad,” Ghost said confidently, although Soap didn’t know how much he believed that.

Soap looked over his shoulder and leaned his face in closer to the mirror. A line of jagged, black stitches ran down his eye. The smooth cut from the knife was still visible and the skin was pink around the edges. On one side the skin was raised up slightly as it was pulled across to stitch together.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Soap muttered. The easy smile on his face fell slightly as he moved his head back and forth to get a better look at it.

“That’s going to make one hell of a story,” Ghost said lightly, catching Soap’s eye in the mirror. It was a casual joke, but there was also a tender softness behind his eyes that displayed an immense amount of relief.

Soap turned back around to face Ghost again.

“I’d somehow managed to avoid facial scars this far…” he lamented. There was a small, small part of him that was serious despite their joking. If Soap was being honest with himself, he was probably still a little shaken up by the close call.

“I think it looks good,” Ghost said sincerely.

“It hasn’t made me completely hideous?”

Ghost hummed. “Nothing could ruin such a pretty face…”

He stepped in between Soap’s legs and placed his hands on either side of Soap’s thighs. His hands leisurely rubbed back and forth as Soap tightened his knees around Ghost’s waist.

He smiled down at Ghost whose eyes shone back at him lovingly. Soap was happy just looking into Ghost’s eyes. Those expressive, comforting, and stunning eyes that gave him such undivided attention that he felt he could get lost in them forever.

The silence between them was comfortable and easy. Simply being in Ghost’s presence was comforting and eased Soap’s soul.

“What am I gonna tell my mum?” Soap asked with a chuckle, although the question hung above them with serious intent.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Ghost replied. “You’re not the one who’s often at a loss for words.”

“I am. Sometimes.” Soap smirked and leaned in close, his heart starting to beat faster like it did every time thought about kissing Ghost. “And anyway, right now I think you still owe me something…”

Soap raised his hands and gripped the edge of Ghost’s mask, feeling the fabric sizzling to life under his fingertips. He slipped a finger inside and felt Ghost’s warm neck under his touch.

“I thought you may have forgotten,” Ghost teased, also leaning in closer.

“Of course not. I’ve been thinking about this for hours.”

Soap slipped another finger underneath the mask and pulled it off Ghost’s head. He leaned in close and they finally kissed. It felt like it had been an eternity without Ghost’s warm lips on his – although it was actually closer to 14 hours. Soap never wanted to go that long again.

Ghost wrapped one arm around Soap’s waist and used his other hand to cup the side of Soap’s face. His touch was gentle, as if Soap were something fragile. He was especially careful not to touch Soap’s eye.

Their lips moved perfectly together, the sparks that Soap felt from Ghost’s touch just as strong as it was the first day. The kisses were soft and leisurely as they relaxed into one another.

Everything felt right when Ghost was holding him. He hoped he did the same for Ghost.

Full chapter ao3.

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imaginedanvrs · 4 months

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encrypted relations

part 3 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), praise, past abusive relationship

Yelena had been in New York for little over two months when you finally got to go to a bar with her. You had been intending to go practically right from the night you met, but you often ended up being sidetracked with other tasks that demanded your attention or got too comfortable staying in on the nights you were all free. You had intended to meet there with Kate but at the last minute Lucky had helped himself to the box of chocolates Kate had left on the side and had to take him to the vet to put her worries at ease. She had insisted to you that you and Yelena still go, something you were thankful you didn’t object to once you saw the blonde sitting at the bar.

She wore an AC/DC tee that was ripped in certain places to give you a peak of the skin underneath under a jet black blazer and matching jeans. Her hair was up in a high ponytail that accelerated her sharp jawline and eye makeup that made her gaze on you feel more intense than usual, though that might have also been down to the fact she was undeniably eyeing you up and down. You needed a drink asap.

You named your favourite cocktail to the familiar bartender as soon as you sat down. “Don’t you ever get tired of that paint thinner?” You asked the Russian as you noted the shot of vodka in front of her.

“Make it two,” she said to the bartender in response. “It gets the job done,” she shrugged.

“I can’t imagine you ever being hammered,” you stated.

“And you never will,” she replied simply.

“We’ll see,” you challenged as your drinks were placed down in front of you both. You already had a tab open with the bar.

You took a sip of your drink as Yelena downed her shot without the slightest hint of a wince. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“I have yet to find anything,” she stated with an arrogance you couldn’t not find attractive.

“So what’s the plan after all this? With the widows, I mean.” Yelena took a moment to think, making you consider whether or not it was something she had actually let herself plan for yet.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Just as long as you’ve got a dog,” you remembered. Yelena’s face brightened at the comment.

“Yeah.”

“Kate wants to be a private investigator, I could see you doing that too,” you said honestly. “That or a bounty hunter.”

“I think I want to stay here,” Yelena decided. It was a decision you could definitely get behind. You enjoyed spending time with the blonde and you knew you would miss her when she went. “Do you want to stay with S.H.I.E.L.D forever?” Yelena asked as you took another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know about forever but at least for a little while. I’m not sure what else I could do,” you shrugged. “Besides, apparently all of my friends are sticking around for a while.” You smiled over your drink as you took another sip, watching Yelena’s cat-like eyes meet yours.

“And what would you do without them watching your back for deadly assassins?” She quipped.

“I don’t mind when the assassins are cute,” you said far too quickly. Oh god the alcohol was already kicking in but the smirk on Yelena’s face made it impossible for you to worry. You probably should have, because four drinks in and your filter was growing weaker with every sip. You weren’t drunk, just quite tipsy, though the alcohol was having a similar effect on the blonde who became more bold than usual.

The bar had grown more busy in the time the pair of you had been there and although it wasn’t crowded, there was still enough of a buzz that you and Yelena kept having to move closer to one another to converse. At one point, Yelena leant forwards and put her hand on your thigh to steady herself (even though she totally didn’t need to) to hear you repeat yourself. For a brief moment your brain went entirely blank at the contact that seemed to send a pulse of electricity along your skin. You were suddenly glad at the decision to wear a skirt.

“I er, I said the Canary Islands,” you stammered slightly.

“But I thought the whole point of Christmas was snow, why not go to Alaska?” Yelena questioned with a grin that had barely left her lips the entire evening.

“Mkay fine! We’ll go to Alaska but then the next year we’re spending some of the holidays in the Canary Islands,” you suggested, willing to compromise your plans that had somehow emerged for you and the blonde to go away during the holidays.

“Deal,” Yelena accepted as she leant back and withdrew her hand. You missed the contact immediately and felt the urge to put it back there yourself. Yelena glanced away to do a scan of the room and when she turned back to you she seemed surprised that you were still looking at her. “What?” She questioned though the smirk on her face suggested that she knew what. So you ordered another drink instead.

“And a water?” The blonde added. “I don’t want you throwing up on the way home,” she said in response to the glare you sent her way.

“But that’s how you know you’ve had a good night out,” you argued even though you knew that was bullshit.

“No, that’s how you know you cannot hold your drink,” Yelena countered.

You thanked the bartender for what ended up being your last drink of the night as Yelena downed another shot. You had no idea how many she had consumed that night but you were aware of the fact she had had more alcohol than you and was noticeably less affected by it. Still, there was a faint buzz about her.

“You’re tipsy,” you commented.

“You’re drunk.”

“Am not!” You denied with a small laugh.

“Am I going to have to take you home, y/n?”

“I wouldn’t object,” you said, your voice dropping as you leant forward and put your hand on Yelena’s covered knee. “It’s not like I’ve never thought about it.” You saw Yelena’s gaze darken as she listened to you.

“What do you think about?” You didn’t reply, merely smirking as you downed your water to try and clear your head. You pulled up Uber on your phone as Yelena watched.

You didn’t say anything as you took Yelena’s hand in your own and led her through the bar to the exit. You wanted to get out of there to be away from prying eyes so that you could have her closer to you, but as soon as you were hit with the sobering fresh air outside, you found yourself knocked back to your senses. Almost. At noticing the small crowds dotted around the street, Yelena placed her hand on your waist to keep you close to her and it was impossible not to lean into the warmth radiating off of her body while you waited just a few minutes for your ride.

Yelena’s hand found yours once more in the dim car and you wished you could make out her features better in the dark. Being close to her wasn’t enough, and you made that feeling known the moment you closed your apartment door behind her. You turned around to face the blonde but she was already meeting you halfway there as she raised her hands to your neck and kissed you, pushing you back until your back hit the wall with a light thud.

“Finally,” she muttered, her hands everywhere. Your head spun though this time it wasn’t from the alcohol and you were adamant to keep the spy against you as her hands disappeared under your shirt to explore the uncharted skin she wanted to spend hours memorising. Your shirt was off within minutes and before Yelena could discard anything else you led her to your bedroom where you guided her to lay on the bed, immediately following to straddle her waist as you removed your bra.

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed out, accent strong. Yelena left marks everywhere. Across your torso, collarbone, breasts, neck, all while you held onto her like she was all that kept you on the brink of sanity. You wanted all of her. You wanted her to take all of you. Fortunately, that was exactly what the blonde intended on doing.

“Lena,” you whined when you found yourself on your back with the Russian kissing along your waistband. “Take them off.”

“So eager,” she mused against your skin and you could feel her smirk. You didn’t care though, because she didn’t make you wait much longer to feel her lips down your thighs as she dragged your skirt off of you and threw her shirt to the side soon after. You wanted to run your hands across her toned stomach, but Yelena dipped down again to hook her fingers along your underwear and pulled them down, leaving you entirely bare to her.

“Fuck,” you whispered when you felt her warm breath on you.

“What do you want, detka?” She asked, kissing your inner thighs.

“You,” you said, tangling your fingers into her hair. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I wanted you too, let me show you how much.” You gasped lightly when Yelena finally let her tongue stroke flat against you. Your head fell back as you breathed heavily but whined when you felt the blonde move away. “Look at me,” she instructed, sending an electric jolt through your body. You did as she said, keeping your eyes locked on her emerald ones as she gave you the bliss you knew she was capable of.

Yelena was confident in her ability to make you feel good, she watched you closely to see exactly what made your breath hitch, what made you shudder, moan, say her name. She felt your muscles twitch and clench around her, she felt how wet you got when she moaned into you, practically lightheaded from your taste. You were everything Yelena knew you would be.

“God, Lena,” you moaned softly as she sucked on your clit. You bucked your hips up at the action and Yelena wrapped her hands around your thighs to push your hips back against the bed, reminding you that she had the strength to keep you there for as long as she wanted. And she wanted you there for a while.

Yelena worked you up to the edge numerous times, each time stopping you from plummeting at the last second so that she could enjoy you some more. You were an image everytime you whined in frustration, only encouraging Yelena to torture your body some more before she felt like you had earned its release.

“Cum for me, detka, show me how good I make you feel,” she encouraged as her thumb rubbed circles on your clit. You clenched around her tongue as you came, feeling the vibrations pulse through you when Yelena moaned at your climax, savouring it as much as you did as she coaxed you through to the other side, only to replace her tongue with her fingers.

“You think you can give me another one?” She asked, chin glistening. You didn’t have to answer, the untamed glint in her eye being enough for you to pull her towards you for another demanding kiss as you spread your legs more for her. You’d take whatever she gave you.

“So good for me,” she murmured into your neck as she buried her fingers inside you. “I wish I had my strap to see how well you’d take it.” You moaned at the very mention of the toy. Yelena’s fingers already felt as though they were filling you to the brim but the strap would be so much more that you gripped the blonde’s back tighter at the thought, digging your nails in slightly. Yelena grunted at the pain but it seemed to only make her move faster as she touched you in a way that managed to press all of the right buttons. She played you like an instrument, drawing out a beloved tune that was just for her.

It didn’t take long before Yelena took you to the edge again, though this time she didn’t deprive you of the euphoric drop that she wrapped herself around you to dull the impact of. She stroked her fingers inside you along with your pants, bringing you back down to your place on earth right next to her. She breathed each other in as you regained your breath, then tilted her head so that you could see her slightly flushed cheeks. You could only imagine what you looked like.

“I wanna make you feel good too,” you insisted. Yelena rolled you both over so you lay on top of her with a grin of adoration. You mirrored it against her soft skin as you made your way down the blonde’s body.

“I need you to tap a phone call,” Rae said before she had even closed the main door behind her. She didn’t look at you as she marched over, eyes glued to her phone in hand. One of her phones.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you said outright. Rae looked at you blankly.

“What?” You stared back.

“Well it’s not really…what I do,” you said honestly. You had told Rae that before, when you first showed her your digital pass time.

“I need you to,” she insisted, as though that would change your capabilities.

“Okay,” you sighed. “It will take me time to learn.” Rae narrowed her eyes.

“How long?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never done anything like that before,” you admitted.

“Don’t you have like a network of nerds you can ask?” You did, in a way, but you weren’t overly keen on asking them for that kind of information. You hadn’t accessed those kinds of chat rooms and forums on the dark web in a while, not since learning everything that was relevant to what you wanted to know. You never had any interest in phone tapping or anything to do with people individually, you didn’t want to interfere with people.

There was also the issue that it could take a while you get yourself back into that private corner of the internet. People that invested in the world of cyber crimes were paranoid enough to avoid letting anyone new into their circle and there would be numerous hurdles to overcome just to get their attention. And at the end of it all, how could you be sure you could even trust them to give you the right information.

“It’s complicated,” you said, knowing Rae wouldn’t want to hear the full explanation.

“Then what use are you to me?” She asked, eyes cold as they dug into your own.

“I’m your girlfriend,” you whispered because you knew she often forgot that was the role she was meant to play. You knew that if things were different and that you didn’t have the skills you did, she would have disregarded you long ago.

To your utter surprise, her demeanour softened. Rae looked down at the floor and glanced back your way, appearing as unsure of what to do with herself as you were. “I know,” she eventually muttered and took a hold of your hands with a grip so gentle you wouldn’t recognise it as hers if you weren’t watching the action. “I know,” she repeated as she finally met your eyes. You didn’t say anything.

“What if we go out tomorrow, just you and me,” she smiled, looking at you the way she used to, the ghost of who she once was. “We’ll go to that fancy place down the street and have a full course meal, maybe a bottle of wine or two,” she suggested and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling nothing but elevated. Rae brushed some hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. She used to do that constantly, every time reminding you that you were beautiful, as though the action wasn’t enough to tell you that was how she saw you.

“I love you,” you whispered because you really did. Because you started just a week into dating and you refused to stop when things changed, clinging on to the hope that you would get her back some day. Something you believed you finally got.

“I love you too, baby,” Rae whispered back before placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “I’ll make that reservation as soon as you get a hold of that phone call,” she said with a slight chuckle. You froze but dismissed the feeling of dread rising. No, it wasn’t like that anymore.

“I’ll know what to do by tomorrow,” you nodded with a sharp exhale. You weren’t entirely sure you could. Rae shifted and the corner of her lip twitched. The dread had made its way to the back of your throat.

“The call’s happening right now, baby,” Rae laughed. A forced laugh.

“I’ll get the next one,” you were quick to say, hoping it would be enough. It wasn’t. It was never enough. “How about we just take the evening off?” you suggested hopefully.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t just put this off, y/n. It’s fucking important.” She pulled her hands away from yours and you immediately chased after the loss, reaching out to grab them again but instead being met with a hard shove to the chest. You stumbled back and hit your head on the edge of a cabinet with a dull thud that felt like it pierced right through your skull. You blinked away the tears that immediately came to the surface.

“I don’t have time for you to be needy,” she spat, ignoring your tears. Not for the first time, you felt your heart crack in front of your girlfriend.

“Okay,” you said, though the word wasn’t audible. You stepped around Rae, making sure to give her adequate space and sat down in your chair to turn your screen on, still blinking back tears. You weren’t upset with Rae, not for pushing you or making you think things could be different. You were upset with yourself for believing it.

#yelena belova smut #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #gxg marvel #natasha romanoff #marvel

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yuesya · 3 months

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I see you've taken after the Nasuverse quite well, making so many alternate versions of your main heroine :)

This latest one actually reminds me a bit of Zero from Drakengard 3. Both of them have similar backstories, being sold into slavery and suffering a cruel betrayal at the end of it. Both have a devil may care attitude towards murder and do it on a whim or as a reflexive response. Both also share similar appearances with their stark white hair and skin.

Moreover, since Shiki probably wasn't raised as a proper young lady like her canon counterpart and being more open about her visceral desires she'd likely have a more crass vocabulary. Once agian, quite similarly to her Drakengard counterpart.

Although I am a bit befuddled about Jujutsu society's response to Shiki since it seems kind of... muted. Yes, Shiki is a special grade curse user who definitely killed her fair share of sorcerers to earn that title. However, I don't think the sorcerers would let her go around committing whatever atrocities she wanted without offering some resistance, they certainly didn't with Geto.

On that topic, Geto and Satoru would also definitely take an interest in her for a variety of reasons. Geto would likely be thrilled to have another special grade helping achieve his genocidal ambitions, especially one as murderous as Shiki. Whereas Gojo would've likely encountered her one way or another since he is already on the look out for a homicidal special grade curse user.

Although given what little we know from the AU so far it's likely Shiki would reject them both. Shiki would probably want nothing to do with Geto's dream since she'd see no difference between sorcerers and "monkeys." She would also be uninterested in making the world a better place.

As for Satoru she would probably mix with him as well as oil does with water, meaning not at all given their tense interactions in a different AU. This would likely culminate in a battle between the two leading to the infamous [REDACTED] incident, which leads to both of them developing a mutual understanding to stay out of each other's way.

There are so many AUs haha. It feels like a new one crops up whenever I turn around...

Interesting parallels to Zero! And fitting, in some ways. Araya doesn't strike me as someone who would take an active parental role for Shiki; he'd probably decide to observe her 'natural behaviors' instead. Remember how in zenith of stars Shiki experiences some struggles with her desire to 'be good' versus her instinct to kill? How she initially tried to claw out her own eyes because she recognized that humans aren't supposed to visualize death?

In this 'verse, Shiki has no such restraints tempering her. She was never taught the difference between 'right' and 'wrong.' There's only Araya, who watches her silently no matter what she does.

I haven't sorted out timeline details, but Shiki would escape from Araya sometime while Geto is at large, which means that most of the jujutsu headquarters' attention is focused on Geto as the major threat. Shiki gets mistaken for one of Geto's compatriots multiple times. Geto attempts to recruit her and fails, but he doesn't particularly mind. Shiki has killed many non-sorcerers according to her whims, after all. He probably tries to direct her towards non-sorcerers as best as he can from the sidelines.

Shiki comes into prominence after Geto's death, and that's when people start realizing that this girl is a lot more dangerous than she seems at first glance. There are multiple sorcerers sent after her -all are killed. They need to cut their losses, and their last resort is Gojo Satoru-

But what if Gojo tries to recruit her to his side? The girl is like a wild beast that can't be controlled; worse than Tsukumo ever was. What kind of damage would she cause? What if Gojo succeeded in taming her? Which probably then leads into the attempt to bribe Shiki out of Japan with one of Sukuna's fingers.

I haven't made up my mind on how the meeting between Shiki and Satoru would go, but lots of collateral damage sounds like it would be on the right track haha.

#QA #zenith of stars au #villain shiki au

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elliemarchetti · 2 months

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Gwynriel Weeks Day 5

I know today's prompt for @gwynrielweeksofficial was domestic life, and I kind of respected that, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to write this sort of fake dating AU

Prompt: Domestic Life

Words: 1064

Azriel opened his eyes slowly, annoyed by the pale sunlight coming through the decorative curtains. He had overslept, a unique occurrence, but the worst part was that he wasn't recognizing his surroundings. The room was too small, the bed definitely not his, and the light wooden door located in the wrong place, too close to the window, beyond which voices speaking an unknown language chattered softly. Instinct told him to sit up, to make sure there was no danger, and to chase away whoever was daring to peek into his privacy, but a familiar weight on his chest and left arm glued him to the mattress, its warmth comforting for both his body and his spirit.

“Good morning,” a female voice, still drenched in sleep, murmured, and Azriel remembered everything. The mission that could have resulted in a disaster, the cover story Gwyn had invented on the spot, the kind family that had found them on the borders, his injuries, and the priestess desperate plead for help. He heard her say they were a couple of diplomats returning from Vallahan, who had been tasked with managing delicate commercial relations but had been followed by criminals who had almost killed them.

"All for a stupid necklace," she had said, probably showing the pendant whose original recipient was in Prythian, in the arms of her red-haired mate. The lesser Fae believed her, and accompanied them to their village, where Azriel could wait for his right wing to recover.

“You were lucky,” their healer, a tall, lanky creature with long straw-blond hair, had told him. “If they had hit you closer to the shoulder I wouldn’t have known how to save your ability to fly.”

Azriel had shuddered at the thought, and Gwyn had immediately approached him, placing a delicate hand on his muscular arm. She had reassured him, and caressed his face, just like a worried lover. When she had left him alone to rest, she had returned with their hosts to the living room, which also served as the kitchen, and had helped them prepare dinner. They had given her a simple dress, a little worn but still her size, and an apron to avoid getting dirty, into the large pocket of which she had immediately begun to stuff fresh herbs from the small garden in the back. She had put her hair up in a soft braid, and had laughed and joked with the little ones at home, who had the same teal eyes as her and the dark skin of the Summer Court’s inhabitants.

“I would like to have wings like your boyfriend,” the youngest had told her. “So I could beat the other kids in running races.”

She hadn’t denied that their bond was romantic, she hadn’t shown the slightest sign of discomfort at the idea, and even though Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her, he kept spying on her from the crack of the door she had left open, and had listened to her tell to the youngling that even though she didn’t have wings, she was still the fastest among her friends.

Three nights had passed since that day, and although he was starting to get better and no longer felt strong pangs of pain when he tried to stretch his shoulders, he knew he couldn’t resume the mission. Gwyn had helped him with this too, to understand where to start again, how to contain the damage, but above all she had taken care of him like no one had ever done before. She helped him bathe, and get dressed, and she even fed him the first time he got up to eat, making him blush like a lovesick puppy. During the night she had asked him if she hadn’t gone too far, her voice little louder than a breath of wind, but he had reassured her by holding her close and giving her a long kiss on the forehead. The truth was that he liked that farce, he enjoyed the illusion of being able to have a normal life with her, a peaceful existence, where there were no wars, secret missions, enemies to face openly and allies whose loyalty had to be controlled with bargains and blackmail. If someone had told him he would have this kind of thoughts a few days earlier, he would’ve laughed in the face of anyone who dared picture him so weak, but now that he had experienced what it was like to have a normal life with the priestess, he couldn’t help but wish for a little house just for them in the middle of nothing, a place that hadn’t been given to him by Rhysand and that didn’t remind him of the past, maybe a cottage he'd built with his own hands, though he wasn’t sure they knew how to make something so pure. For her, he could’ve learned. With her, perhaps he could forget the horrors of his childhood, and ennoble those bastard origins without being someone’s torturer. He was grateful to Rhysand for everything he had done for him, for saving his life and offering him food and shelter and protection, but working for him inevitably took away the daily life he longed to share with a partner. He could already imagine her walking around the house barefoot, relaxed, the smell of stew in the air and a child or two jumping around asking when dinner would be ready. For centuries, Azriel had been adamant on the issue of offspring: he had a terrible father, and he wasn’t going to be the same for an innocent creature. But with Gwyn…

“Everything okay? Are you feeling sick?” she asked, propping up on one elbow to get a better view of his face, and Azriel wondered what kept him from digging his hand into the flaming cascade of hair that had escaped from the silk tie, forming a puddle of harmless fire on his naked chest, to kiss her senseless. Decency and fairness would’ve been the right answer, but it was fear and guilt, so he just shook his head and told her he was simply hungry.

“I’ll go get you something for breakfast,” she murmured, and as if nothing had happened, as if sleeping together and being so close had been the most natural thing in the world, she got up, heading towards a kitchen that wasn’t theirs but could’ve been.

#gwynrielweeks2024 #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #this thing has everything i want from their book #angst #fake dating #sweet and platonic ways to express their love #longing for a normal life #azriel being grateful to rhysand but leaving his job because he feels guilty about it #gwyn being her awesome self and gaining confidence #a spy story where she saves his ass #hurt/comfort #azriel realizing he deserves love #and at the same time working hard to be a better version of himself #sorry i'm ranting #I have strong feelings in this day of the lord

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sokkastyles · 9 months

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What would a real life ramification of Zuko's scar look like from a physical and mental view point. I've seen you mention it before and it piqued my interest. Don't feel the need to answer if you don't wish, I'm just curious and didn't know where else to look for answers.

Well, I'm not a medical professional and I don't want to get too graphic with this, but large burns like the one Zuko receives on his face would be a lot more severe and disfiguring in real life. You can google to see pictures of what that would look like realistically, but I recommend that you don't.

There's a lot of speculation in the fandom about whether he still has sight in his left eye. Word of God says he does, but again, if we're being realistic, he probably wouldn't. I tend to take the middle ground with that with my headcanons because even if he didn't lose the eye enteriley it's likely that the muscle damage is going to affect his vision. He can't open his eye all the way so that does indicate damage to the muscles that make the eye open and shut. And that's going to cause problems with his vision because your eyelid is there to protect your eyes. There would also be limited range of sight even if his vision was perfect due to the fact that he canonically cannot open his left eye all the way. In my fics I usually like to include that his peripheral on the left side is not great, and he has to overcompensate for it. I also headcanon that he doesn't like being approached from the left side because he can't see as well, in combination with it being a ptsd response. A lot of people talk about his negative reaction to Song touching his face but it's not just the response of random hand flying at his face, I think it's significant that she approaches him from the left side while he is looking away from her. It freaks him out because he can't see as well what she's doing or what her intention is.

Recently I talked about this in the context of Ozai sending him out to sea immediately after burning him. We see in the Western Air Temple episode that Zuko is still wearing a bandage which means Ozai did not give him time to heal before sending him away. Imagine going from living in a palace with the greatest medical care available to having to live on a tiny military ship. And Zuko is not likely to stop and do the necessary things to take care of himself. I think Iroh would try to encourage it, but we know Zuko would have pushed himself, and likely would not admit his own limits or when he was having trouble. This is also going to cause problems.

Zuko could have died from shock or from the burn itself during the agni kai, since it is so large. And then the shock of being immediately carted off to sea and told you can't come home. That is going to have physical as well as mental effects.

Burned skin is also very sensitive to sunlight, and being on a ship out to sea is like, the worst place to be for that. I think the detail in the Beach about Zuko carrying the umbrella was supposes to be for Mai, the pale goth, but I headcanon that Zuko needs that umbrella. I also headcanon that this is why he's not out on the beach with everyone in Sozin's Comet.

I headcanon that Zuko is at least partially disabled but he absolutely does not want people to know that, although redeemed Zuko is much better about accepting himself. Although even if he had no physical affects, he still might have a ptsd responde to being approached from the left side or hands on his body, especially flying at his face. We also know he is self-conscious about the way he looks from what he says to Katara and Ty Lee about it, we know people react to him differently because of the way he looks and Zuko is going to notice this. What Ozai did was a violation of his bodily autonomy that sends the message that Zuko is not safe in his own body, and Zuko is going to be reminded of that every time he looks in the mirror, and other people are also going to know it. One of the major psychological affects I think is that not only does Zuko have to live with being a survivor of familial abuse, it's that everyone else can also see it on his face. There's a lot of headcanons about Zuko telling the gaang the story of his scar but in reality he probably doesn't tell them because he assumes they already know, because it's right there on his face. It's a constant reminder to him of his own weakness and shame so why wouldn't other people feel the same way? Although, again, I do think redeemed Zuko is much more comfortable with himself and he does learn by talking to other people about it that it wasn't his fault. Like, the way he talks to Katara in the caves when she brings up his face, he assumes she is already judging him and is surprised by her compassion, and already says he knows that it doesn't have to define him. I love that scene in particular because it doesn't say that Zuko has to get rid of his scar to be whole, but opens up a way for him to learn self acceptance, and I think he is on his way to that by the end of the series. Which also means accepting his own limits and working with his disability rather than pretending it's not there.

That's also why I don't like it when people say that Mai "sees him as the same." Like, that's the problem! He's not the same. That's also why Mai can't understand why he's so angry, why he can't control his emotional outbursts. He's not the same and treating it like it's nothing isn't going to help him. One of the things I love about atla is how they do acknowledge and treat disability like it's regular part of life, without pretending that equity is the same as equality. Toph can't do some of the same things that the others can do, for example, but she can do a lot, and it isn't a big deal for her to hold on to someone when her feet aren't on the ground, for example. I think that Zuko, post-redemption, learns when he can rely on others and learns how to know himself to know when he needs to rely on others for help, instead of keeping it all in to the point where his emotions become outwardly destructive.

#zuko #zuko's scar #disfigurement cw #abuse cw

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grailfinders · 7 months

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Grailfinders #324: Jacques de Molay

ayyyyy its time to get spooky! at long last the Halloween events have returned, and they’ve returned with three new servants! we here at Grailfinders are, of course, going in servant ID order, so first on the chopping block is the disgraced crusader Jacques de Molay! they started off as a holy knight, but ever since their fall they’ve been tainted by lies and slander, so while they start off semi-holy as a Death Cleric they fall pretty fast as a Fiend Warlock by the end of the build. basically they’re kind of a discount, evil paladin, which fits nicely!

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: I'm pretty sure I can't include a picture on the next one without getting banned.

ancestry & background

obv jacques is a human, buuuut her final form is a grey-skinned humanoid with glowy eyes and horns, so why would we miss this chance to go tiefling? specifically we’re going with the glasya tiefling variant so eventually your Legacy of Malbolge (mispronounced to your liking) will give you access to disguise self, and then you can look human that way! right now, it just gives you Minor Illusion. you also get Hellish Resistance against fire damage, as well as Darkvision to clown on those dumb “human” knights. you also get +2 Dexterity and +1 Wisdom thanks to Tasha’s trivializing ancestry differences.

you’re not a good Acolyte, but you’re definitely an acolyte, so you still get Insight and Religion proficiency all the same.

Ability Scores

we’re starting off as a cleric so your Wisdom needs to be pretty good, at least for now. after that, your Dexterity- you’re uh. you’re not partial to armor. (though I would accept an argument that your first ascension has light armor on, but that’s still mostly dexterity based.) third up is Charisma- this will be better later, but if you had high charisma before you died, you probably wouldn’t have died. your Constitution is above average since you were a knight and all, but that means your Intelligence isn’t that high. you’ve got the megane look, but we just don’t need it for the build. finally, we’re dumping Strength. you’ve got actual knights for heavy lifting now.

Class Levels

1. Cleric 1: starting off as a cleric nets you Wisdom and Charisma proficiency as well as History and Medicine, warrior monk and all that. starting off as a Death cleric specifically gives you proficiency with martial weapons, so you get your sword and shield right off the bat! you’re also a Reaper now, so you can learn an extra necromancy cantrip like Sapping Sting- it deals a little damage and knocks people over! I mean, you’re not winning any shoving contested rolls any time soon, might as well turn to magic, right?

oh right, you can also learn and prepare Spells as part and parcel of being a cleric by using your Wisdom. since you can swap spells out each day we won’t be super in-depth about which ones you learn when, but we’ll point out the cooler ones to look at each level.

first though, your regular cantrips! Guidance and Resistance are subtle, but powerful- a great excuse to not do anything yourself! also grab Sacred Flame or something to attack people while your dexterity isn’t high enough to reliably use your sword.

as for your first level spells, you get False Life and Ray of Sickness for free, but there’s plenty of other spells to look into too. Shield of Faith is a pretty good alternative for mage armor at the moment, giving you or an allied creature +2 AC for up to ten minutes, concentration pending. it’s no shroud of turin, but it’s not like you used the real thing either, right? Bane is our very first curse, reducing a group of creature’s checks for a while if they fail their saves. also, Ceremony is the closest we can come to your “turn everyone evil” technique for now, although it only reveals a creature’s original alignment, not a new one. I guess the dedication ceremony could technically count?

2. Cleric 2: second level clerics can Channel Divinity in one of two ways once per short rest- Turn Undead (boo hiss) forces wisdom saves on every undead creature in the area, making them run away for a minute, or until they take damage. good for when you have to clear a room, I guess. the death clerics have a CD with some oomph though- your Touch of Death lets you make a necrotic smite dealing up to 25 extra necrotic damage in a single hit as you level up.

3. Cleric 3: third level clerics get second level spells, but you also get a free copy of Disguise Self from your Legacy of Malbolge. once a day you can look like any humanoid you like, though physical inspection can turn up discrepancies. luckily, as long as you aren’t getting headpats regularly “you, but human” is a pretty safe option.

as for your second level spells, Blindness/Deafness is a fun curse to throw around, as is Ray of Enfeeblement, and both will always be on your spell list! the heavy hitter this level has to be Spiritual Weapon though- you can make a big floating weapon and use bonus actions to move it around and hit people- essentially, it’s your very first summonable knight. I know those knights are mostly just part of your Noble Phantasm animation, but if Stheno can get knights, so can you.

4. Cleric 4: normally we’d use your first Ability Score Improvement on raw stats to improve your offense or shore up some weakness (y’know, improving an ability score), but right now our most pressing issue is getting the War Caster feat. sure, it gives you advantage on concentration checks and makes shield of faith a much better defensive spell. sure, you can cast inflict wounds as a reaction now, but the most important part is you can cast somatic-based spells while both your hands are full with a sword and shield! most DMs probably won’t care too much, but really every part of this feat is super useful for us as an IKEA paladin.

to celebrate the occasion, you can cast Thaumaturgy now. really sets the mood for a dark mass, you know?

5. Cleric 5: fifth level clerics can Destroy Undead of CR ½ or lower when they turn them successfully, which actually makes it even worse for our purposes, since this is also the level they can cast third level spells like Animate Dead. it makes skeletons and zombies- either creating one or reasserting dominance over up to three per casting. you can command one or more of them as a bonus action each turn, but they’ll only listen to you for the first 24 hours after you cast or recast the spell on them.

you can also cast Invisibility once a day thanks to your legacy- it’s not in character but it is useful!

as for other spells to look out for, Bestow Curse does just about any negative thing you want it to- if you’re going to be evil, it will help out a lot. I’d also grab Speak with Dead so you can really connect with your undead minions, and Spirit Shroud for a creepier ambiance next time you stab someone.

6. Cleric 6: at level six you can channel divinity twice a short rest, and you have an Inescapable Destruction about you that makes your divinity impossible to resist! literally- it prevents the necrotic damage your spells and CD do from being resisted. now you can beat up aasimars with your (currently) 17 additional points of necrotic damage per attack!

7. Cleric 7: seventh level clerics get fourth level spells. your freebies are Blight which is cool, it doesn’t really specify how the target got dehydrated, and Death Ward. it’s not quite the invincibility we want for your shroud ability, but it’s less dying which is useful. I’d also grab Guardian of Faith so you can get a whole knight instead of just a sword, and Divination because you’re still god’s specialest little princess, probably.

8. Cleric 8: eighth level clerics get another ASI, and its about time we start thinking about getting evil. the Flames of Phlegethos are as hard to spell as they are useful, increasing your Charisma by one while also letting you re-roll ones on fire damage from spells. you’re not all that fire-and-brimstone, but it’s a nice touch. even better, after casting a fire spell, you can cover yourself in an evil aura for a round, causing you to glow and counterattack anyone stupid enough to hit you with a melee attack. like. she’s on fire. of course you’re going to burn your hand.

additionally, your Divine Strike adds a bit of necrotic damage to your first weapon attack you hit each turn. you’re kind of a paladin, so now you have a low-level smite, go nuts. (also destroy undead works on CR one creatures now but hush)

9. Cleric 9: ninth level clerics get fifth level spells. Cloudkill is probably the closest thing to your NP if we’re going by the animation, but it can be pretty finicky. it’s strong, but a good gust of wind will destroy it pretty fast. your other freebie is the real prize- with Antilife Shell you finally have a shroud of turin to protect your team with, at least against melee enemies. it keeps anything that isn’t undead or a construct away from you, but you also can’t move them through the barrier or it breaks as well. thankfully most of your party by weight is undead at this point, so it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

that being said I’d also grab Flame Strike for a more consistent NP attack and Hallow- we can’t turn people evil, but at least we can turn everything else evil!

10. Cleric 10: tenth level clerics get one more cantrip, so now you can Toll the Dead to deal some ranged damage, especially if you kick people while they’re down. I guess this is your scarf thing?

also, you can get some Divine Intervention, if Shub-Niggurath is feeling benevolent that day. as an action you try to get your god to help out, and if you roll a 10 or lower on a d100, it works. if it worked, you can use it again in a week, otherwise you just have to wait a day. dang, I wish worshipping the devil worked like that irl too.

11. Warlock 1: okay, time to break out the goats. as a Fiend warlock you have access to the Dark One’s Blessing- whenever you reduce a hostile creature to 0 HP, you get temporary HP as a little kickback for sending a soul his way.

you also get Pact Magic, which you cast using your Charisma. you get a different set of spell slots that recharge on short rests, though you can use warlock slots for cleric spells or vice versa. also, when you pick your warlock spells you’re stuck with them until you level up again, so we’ll be more hands-on this time.

grab Eldritch Blast and Mind Sliver for some casterball-ish cantrips, as well as Arms of Hadar to finally make some tentacles to slap people with, and Charm Person to get started with seduction.

12. Warlock 2: at second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, ways for you to customize your fall into madness and depravity. Armor of Shadows will give you mage armor whenever you want, so you can finally wear that cute backless dress you’ve been meaning to! Beguiling Influence gives you proficiency in Deception and Persuasion- I bet you thought I forgot to pick those up at the start, didn’t you?

also, you can Hex people now, mostly because we needed a warlock-based curse option for stuff later. now you can deal extra necrotic damage to creatures you attack! annoyingly, this is not affected by your cleric features!

13. Warlock 3: at level three you can summon a cute lil goat man thanks to your Pact of the Chain giving you free uses of find familiar. also you can hit people with the ol’ Crown of Madness to make them turn on everything they knew and loved before. I guess we can make people evil after all!

14. Warlock 4: at fourth level we get another ASI, so bump up that Charisma for stronger spells! now it’s time to ascend for a better weapon- with Shadow Blade your sword can be upgraded to deal psychic damage, and if you throw it you can summon it back as a bonus action! plus- since this is making a weapon, and not directly attacking someone with a spell, you can add all your fun cleric abilities too!

15. Warlock 5: fifth level warlocks get their best boon to their knight corps(e), the third level spell Summon Lesser Demons, letting you drag up to eight demons knights to the material plane to fight! they’re hostile to literally everything, so good luck controlling them though. good thing you know Hallow!

you also know a Maddening Hex now, so whenever you hex someone you can deal psychic damage to them, as well as everyone else around them, as a bonus action with no save!

16. Warlock 6: at sixth level, you have the Dark One’s Own Luck- once a short rest you can add a d10 to any check or save. things always go the villain’s way, at least until the third act. also you can cast Tongues now to understand every spoken language and be understood in turn. I know this is more of a holy sort of effect, but it’s still super useful when you’re evil.

17. Warlock 7: at level seven you get fourth level spells like Shadow of Moil to give you a more thematically appropriate evil aura. for up to a minute after casting the spell, you’re surrounded by darkness that heavily obscures you, giving you resistance to radiant damage and another kind of counterattack. the worst part about turning to evil is all the other paladins suddenly have a problem with you “living”, and “drawing breath”, and “corrupting the innocent”. such a hassle.

18. Warlock 8: one last ASI, so use it wisely. I mean, use it charismatically. it’s for Charisma. you can also cast Raulothim’s Psychic Lance now! I know yours is more of a literal lance, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

19. Warlock 9: our final spell of the build is Negative Energy Flood, taking your NP’s animation a bit too literally, but at least it’s a single target attack again. when you hit a living creature with it you’ll force a constitution save against your spell, dealing 5d12 necrotic damage on a failure, or half on a success. furthermore, a creature killed by this spell becomes an uncontrolled zombie the next turn, going after whatever is closest. if you target an undead, they’ll gain 5d12 temporary HP instead, so your generals will be more protected.

you also get one last invocation, and with Whispers of the Grave you can cast speak with dead at will to really get to know your potential recruits better.

20. Warlock 10: finally, a tenth level fiendlock has Fiendish Resilience, letting you pick a damage type each short rest to gain resistance to it, as long as its not from magical or silvered weapons. that’s why we’ve still got shadow of moil for the paladins. you also get the cantrip Chill Touch, I guess. reach out and touch somebody, with gross skeleton hands.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

you might not have the unlimited power of a sorlock, but having warlock slots to burn on Animate Dead means you can keep a huge army in check for relatively little cost- even just one short rest a day can supply you with fourteen extra bodies to fight with!

it’s honestly super refreshing to see a spellcaster with a shield. that, plus your healing from fighting and your various ways to resist incoming damage, make you a longer-lived spellcaster than most. having an AC of 18 thanks to mage armor plus two good saves in the big three, plus up to two resistances will help you eat any stray attacks coming your way.

most stories like treating demons as major threats, locking ways to deal with them behind quests and such, so being able to draw demons out for your own benefit can be pretty dang useful in certain situations. unless your playing something like curse of strahd, calling on the forces of evil is usually out of left field enough that whatever you’re fighting won’t have many defenses against it.

Cons:

on the opposite side of that coin, most campaigns assume you’re good. I would consider myself pretty open-minded, but I would have reservations about helping someone walking around with an undead army, I’m just saying.

your undead army can also easily be blasted apart by aoe spells, like the kind your cleric half brings to the table which make up your strongest firepower for most of the build. one wrong move, and suddenly you’re starting from scratch again.

we’re using a lot of different ability scores in this build, so you’re all over the place statwise. I would’ve loved to get more swordplay in, but we had to spend points on two different spellcasting stats, leaving you without a single maxed stat, plus lower constitution than I’m entirely comfortable with a gish having. still, doing a little of everything tends to be the most useful path forward, just ask bards.

#fgo #D&D #DND5e #jacques de molay #warlock #cleric

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merge-conflict · 3 months

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I Got You Babe

an alternate path for thread-safe, where instead of successfully retrieving valentine, goro gets caught up by her allies, none of which are happy to see him. (unfinished, but I kind of like it and it's my blog so whatever) 2.5k under the cut so don't say I didn't warn ya.

Goro can’t see or hear, but he knows he’s been propped up in a chair, most likely tied down although he’s been drugged so heavily it’s hard to tell. The steady cool stream of air over his skin means he’s inside somewhere, and while he’s lost a bit of time, it’s not enough for them to have taken him out of the city. There’s nothing else he can do now but wait, which leaves him with the uncomfortable prospect of being alone with his thoughts. He holds an image of V in his mind, of her sitting on the chair in front of the window, leaning on her elbows, her wrecked voice repeating It would be kinder just to kill me. The grief keeps him conscious, in a torturous haze which is far less than he deserves.

Yet the uncomfortable pop of his hearing returning snaps him out of a light doze, and he instinctively tries to pull his arms free and fails, all his still limbs heavy and clumsy. Whatever they’ve given him is starting to wear off, and his face aches terribly. His vision comes back all at once, albeit with his HUD disabled and his left eyelid stubbornly gummed shut, probably by blood.

“Can you hear me?” Rogue asks, appraising him as he raises his head to look up at her.

“Yes,” he answers. His tongue feels thick, the inside of his mouth furry. “I can hear you.”

“Good. I have a few questions for you.”

“I cannot promise answers.”

There’s a sharp exhale of breath to his left, and he turns his head to see V leaning against a dresser with her teeth bared. She’s not looking at him but her shoulders hunch under the weight of his gaze. There’s a section of the wood under her left hand where she’s worn away the finish with her fidgeting thumb, and he wonders how long the two of them have been here. They have him in some well-furnished bedroom, and the pile of clothes on the floor by V’s foot tells him it’s hers.

It’s sloppy work, but then there’s no reason for them to worry about him knowing where they are. He is simply easier to control when he is blind, and deaf. Having broken through his defenses, Alt may simply puppet him however she pleases. Arasaka already knows where they are.

“You came here alone?” Rogue asks, regaining his attention.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To bring back V.”

“Alone?” She repeats, dubious. Inviting him to reconsider. “No backup? No extraction team?”

“It would have worked,” V hisses, in a voiceless whisper it takes him some time to understand. She is speaking more carefully than usual, enunciating her consonants sharply to make up for her lack of volume. For the damage he's done to her, written in red angry prints around her neck. “If he hadn’t told me what happened.”

Rogue frowns at her, but her annoyance is muted. They both look as tired as he feels, although far more clear-headed. Perhaps more alert than clear-headed, given V’s state of agitation. “I’m not asking you.”

“Interrogating him is pointless,” V insists. “He’s not going to give you anything more than what we already know.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Rogue replies, a sharp edge appearing in her voice that makes V flinch and huddle into herself. “You can be quiet or you can leave.”

Rogue resumes her interrogation, this time without interruption. He plays his part, answering her simple questions and avoiding her probes, settling into the familiar rhythm. She’s frustrated, if not surprised by his endurance, but it becomes clear there will be no escalation– no threats, no pain, no sweating and screaming, no sputtering gasping burning for air. Just V, silent and stone-faced, running her fingers over every inch of her chrome hand and forearm, like she’s testing the sensitivity. There’s a purpose to it, a repetitive, predictable soothing.

The exercise is pointless, because of her presence. Because he doubts that Rogue is sparing him out of her own principles, or any respect for his well being. In fact, it tells him about V’s level of influence here. Far more than he expected, which also explains much about her decision to come to him alone. It should be comforting, given the alternative, but instead it makes him feel ill. He stops answering Rogue’s questions, closing his eyes and letting his chin fall to his chest.

He doesn’t look up again until he hears another sharp exhale from V– frustration and anger. She moves to the side of the door and waits until Silverhand has burst through it to grab him, one arm wrapped around his neck as she drags him away from his intended path. Her technique is clumsy at best, but as soon as she manages to wrench one of his arms behind him there’s nothing he can do to break free, though he puts a hole through one of the walls in an attempt. Rogue stands warily out of their way. Silverhand continues to struggle and swear until V sinks her bared teeth into his shoulder and he falls abruptly quiet, both of them breathing heavily as they sway against each other.

“Are you done?” Rogue asks them both.

“Are you?” Silverhand snaps back. It’s uncanny, recognizing his snarl on Hellman’s features, and seeing the changes he’s made to his stolen body: the chin-length dyed hair, the tanktop revealing new muscle and the unfinished lines of a tattoo designed to cover his entire left arm. A transformation still in progress. “V’s right– he’s not going to tell us a damned thing. Might as well put this sorry sack of shit out of his fucking misery.”

“You do that,” V replies, voice fading sharply in and out in her anger, “and you’ll be next.”

“Would it not be kinder just to kill me?” Goro asks.

She looks him straight in the eye, unflinching. “I guess we’ll never find out.”

“You’re so desperate to suck his cock again, why don’t you do it now?” Silverhand tests her hold, which is starting to slip with her attention. “That’s all you’ll ever get out of him. Isn’t that how it works? Fuck him once and he’ll tell you how they stole your soul, fuck him again maybe he’ll tell you how sorry he is about it.”

V hisses something in answer that is too garbled and soft for him to catch, but which makes Silverhand laugh harshly. He pulls away sharply while she’s distracted, and breaks free, pinning her to the wall even as she wrestles with him. They’re the same height but he has the advantage of strength, and he pulls her into a possessive kiss. Even that seems to be a struggle for control, and despite himself Goro finds that he’s testing the strength of his bonds, picturing what it would be like to crush Silverhand’s throat in his hands.

Rogue watches almost impassively, as though this is a common occurrence– and perhaps it is, as it becomes clear despite their anger that there is some boundary of violence which they are skirting but will not step over. They play fight like dogs, snapping and growling but never drawing blood.

“Tell me,” Goro says, bitterly, “Am I the one who is desperate?”

Rogue laughs, though with very little actual amusement. “He’s right, Johnny,” she says. “This is more important than your dick measuring contest.”

“Sorry to interrupt you at your work,” he sneers. “If you really want to get something out of him, let Alt have a piece.”

“What is it you would like me to do?” Alt asks, her voice in Goro’s ear, addressing all of them the same way. “I am not a torturer, nor do I intend to become one.”

“Tell that to Smasher.”

“He is not Smasher,” V protests, hands balled in Silverhand’s shirt.

“Sure, Smasher still has his balls.”

Her only response is the swift chop of her chrome hand to this throat, which catches him by surprise. While he coughs and sputters she shoves him aside, brushing past Rogue and moving to stand by Goro’s blind side with her hip just touching his arm.

“Why don’t we pair off?” she says, still in hissing whisper. “Those who set off an atomic bomb in a populated city, and those who didn’t?”

This time Rogue is the one angry, though perhaps only because Silverhand has not yet caught his breath. “You really want to defend Arasaka, right now? Here? To us?”

“It’s not Arasaka I am defending,” V answers, in a heated rush. “But if you think so, then you don’t know me at all.”

“Better than you think,” Rogue replies, and looks at Silverhand. He’s recovered enough to stand upright, but his eyes are murderous.

“Get out,” V says, softly, at a level where she can still produce sound. She’s as deadly serious as he’s ever heard her. More confident then when she had defended herself to him. “Take him with you.”

Rogue looks at her for a long moment, studying her face before nodding curtly. Silverhand’s mouth curls into V’s contemptuous sneer– a dizzyingly perfect recreation, and then he stalks out of the room, brushing past Kerry Eurodyne, who is leaning against the doorway without quite being in the room. He lingers even after Rogue has left, looking first and V and then at Goro himself, frowning.

“Ker,” V says, her hand pressing down on Goro’s shoulder as she leans some of her weight onto him. “Can you get me the medkit?”

“What are you going to do with him?”

Her grip tightens slightly. “Clean his face.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know.”

He is oddly melancholic for a man who is always either playing to the cameras or screaming at the paparazzi. It’s his money that brought them this bastion of safety in a city outside of Arasaka’s sphere of control and yet he does not seem to expect his opinion to matter. Nor, it seems, does anyone else.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“If things had worked out differently,” she says, with some difficulty. “If things had worked out differently and I was the one sent out here to get Johnny, what then?”

“He’s not going to see it that way.”

She makes some gesture that Goro can’t see, and Kerry smiles. He’s handsome, of course, but this smile makes him look every inch his age. Weary and bitter. The gold of his cyberware is not the veneer of youth, but a mark showing where he has been so carefully put back together. He disappears quietly, closing the door behind him.

V crouches down beside Goro’s chair, resting her arm just above the mangled remains of his knee. “If I untie you are you going to try to fight me?”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, thinking of how naturally she and Silverhand had fallen into it. How she had broken a chair over his arm and cut his face before calling for help. “To fight?”

V only smiles sadly. “No.”

He wants to stay bitter, but in the force of both her honesty and her protection he cannot. “I will not fight you.”

Even after she’s released him he is far from free– whether it is a drug or something Alt has done, he is clumsy and uncoordinated, his limbs responding sluggishly to every movement. He cannot stand on his own, but must lean on V, once again reliant on her good favor. She grants him some privacy to use the bathroom and when he is finished brings another chair in with her and sets it down next to the sink, depositing him into it before sitting in his lap.

He closes his eyes while she works to soak the bandages off his face, enduring the pain from the broken skin, patched together with uncomfortable butterfly stitches. A pile of pink stained washcloths grows on the counter, but she still has more to go before Kerry returns bearing the familiar bright green medkit.

“Really did a number on him,” he remarks, leaning back against the column of the shower, apparently here to stay.

“It is not so bad,” Goro replies, and V lets out a strangled laugh, leaning to rest her forehead against his.

“What’s another few scars?” she asks in whisper.

“You could have done much worse.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but her hands are as steady and gentle as ever. Eventually she finishes cleaning the wounds and applies some gel that numbs the pain. By the time she secures a few protective bandages he is beginning to drowse again, replete with the sensation of her fingertips running over his undamaged skin– a tenderness he does not deserve.

“I don’t get it,” Kerry says, voice pitched low. “What kept you apart? You’re obviously…“ He trails off, and Goro makes the effort to open his eyes to see V’s distant stare.

“It only makes sense,” V says, frowning down at his hands, which she has folded on her lap. “You need someone who doesn’t want anything besides keeping Arasaka safe. Everything else is a weakness that can be exploited.”

“If you say so.” Kerry sounds almost disgusted, a surprisingly sentimental position. “But I guess corps don’t get rich by taking care of their grunts.”

“You are a wealthy man.” Goro says, tone mild. “Who have you helped?”

“Me,” V says, sharply. “And Johnny and Rogue and Alt. He’s the only one of any of them who didn’t consider just killing you, Goro. Got the cleanest hands here.”

Goro turns his head, to see Kerry looking at V with something like regret. He manages to draw the other man’s attention. “Even so. I think you understand that it is not always so easy.”

“I don’t understand anything you corpos do,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “But if you had gotten your shit together before now you might not be here with half your face ripped to shreds.”

“Watch your glass penthouses,” V says. The warning means nothing to Goro but makes Kerry grimace before the expression flits away.

“You think I can’t give out good advice?” he asks, flashing a charming smile. “Can tell you a lot of what not to do.”

“Little late for that,” she says, and they all fall silent. Her hand goes to the undamaged side of Goro’s face, and she chews on the inside of her lip, avoiding his eyes as she looks at him. “What are we going to do with you, my dear?”

“Why not keep him?” Kerry suggests.

“Keep him?” V echoes, voice cutting out in her anger. “I’m not a fucking jailer.”

“Hey– it’s not what I meant,” he says, sounding genuinely sorry. “I just mean, Arasaka clearly has you both tied up in knots, playing you off each other. How much of that are you gonna sit back and take?”

“Why not just leave?” V says, still petulant. “Why stay? Why stay so long? How could you let it get so bad?”

“Fuck you,” Kerry says, with venom this time. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“Who knows better than me just how similar they are?” She pauses, breathing irregularly, perilously close to weeping. “Trying to please someone who’ll never be happy? Trying to live on scraps while you’re starving? Terrified of losing what little you have?” Her voice breaks, retreating into the harsh whisper. “C’mon, Ker– tell me what’s different?”

#cyberpunk 2077 #goro takemura #valentine #nonbinary v #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #my fic #thread-safe #love awkward and tense and unhappy situations where there's no time limit so people just have to Deal With It and do so poorly

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a-friend-of-mara · 2 months

Text

Hey uh

I'm leaving my mask at the door for a minute

If you enjoy the image of myself I put forward, the happy cheery autistic trans girl who doesn't dwell on her issues

Please just ignore this post

If you are uncomfortable with mentions of self harm, talking about non prescription drug addiction, suicide rates of trans kids

Please just go

Look

I say my biggest fear is that I'll be forgotten

It's easier than saying that I'm scared to death of myself

I'm worried I'll give up on life and stop eating... considering I can't gain or maintain weight I'd have a week before I was dead at the most

I'm afraid that I'll give up trying to look like the person I want to be rather than being stuck, trapped in a body that isn't mine but I'm wired up to like some sick torture method

I don't want to fall into drug use or self harm hoping that it'd pull me out of this pit of self hatred and hopelessness

I don't wanna be another tally mark on the trans suicide charts

I don't wanna die

I feel like I'm suffocating

That I can't move my legs... only the ones attached to me

I don't even know if I matter at this point

I just

I wanna be me

Not some false image that I was born with

Nobody understands how it is for me

My dad almost killed me with th fact he understood so little he put me into survival mode where I cared about nothing but staying alive because of how much damage his insistence that my body was in fact his son and not the cage that trapped his daughter

He used to have twins now he just has one kid with her twin sister... my sister

Now I live with my mom who doesn't understand, how could she? She's never wanted to tear her skin off because it wasn't hers... she understands how much I hurt though

She's able to see through my mask that I'm really suffering inside

Without her yall wouldn't have ever known I existed

You would've heard a news article of a trans kid who killed herself by diving off the balcony at her school although the media would misgender me.

I've almost done it

Sitting on the edge of a lethal drop fighting with myself to not do it

Not sure if I was lying when i told myself things would get better

I'm not sure if they are

Everything just keeps getting worse and worse

I can't even cry anymore

I don't care about so many things that I used to

I used to love

Then I was heartbroken

I used to care for my friends

Until I moved away

I used to enjoy helping others

Now I'm so tired I can't

Just

Fuck

It's kinda funny

How part of me thinks it's all my fault

How I'm not sure if it's something I did

But then I have to think

What could I possibly have done that'd make this torment justified?

How can any higher power exist when I've prayed to every God and Goddess I've ever learned of and not once has a goddam thing happened

How would a higher power let the world get this fucked up

Fuckin hell

My trans siblings are getting murdered for being themselves

Innocent people who live in unfortunate places are being killed because of stupid ass reasons

Fucking hell in America most people aren't free enough to take a month off work without becoming homeless

Decades of prejudice make people think women are weak and need defending but don't pay them well because... fuckin I don't know why!

It's pathetic that men get away with rape while women get away with false rape accusations usually destroying every relationship the man ever cared about

People look at others and treat them differently based on the color of their skin

YA KNOW HOW FUCKIN STUPID THAT IS?!

ITS DUMBER THAN PICKING ON SOMEONE WHO WORE A BLUE SHIRT PURELY BECAUSE OF THE SHIRT

What for?!

WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS FOR?!

The privilege to go through 12 to 20 years of school to earn the right to have to work a job I'll probably hate until I'm like 60?!

Right now I'm pretty sure my life is gonna end before I reach 30!

What's the fuckin point?!

America for fucks sake

The land of the free

Yeah free to work or die because the 0.01% run the fucking nation like their playground

People wonder why I've responded to hostility with hostility in the last 3 years

Simple

I've bottled my emotions for so long the bottles are all full

Yelling and ranting always make me feel a little better

If anyone comments on this negatively I hope you die in a vat of boiling vinegar and drown in the yolks of rotten eggs

That goes for all the phobic people too

If you made it through this whole essay sized emotional breakdown and don't think I'm a complaining winey bitch

I can only say I wish the world was made of more people like you

Alright

Time for sleep

#tw: depression #tw depressing stuff #tw self destructive behavior #trans #trans woman #me #depressing shit #trans struggles

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moodymelanist · 2 years

Note

So I saw a tiktok...

And this girl was at a pool party and a guy tilted her head back, hand around her neck, and poured a shot down her throat. So like...Nessian?

god this is so freaking hot skksksksksks. we never found the tiktok but the premise is a girl has different guys pour shots down her throat and rates them out of 10 and of course Cassian does the best one. If you’ve never seen a tiktok of someone pouring a shot down another persons throat, here’s the pour I imagine Cassian would do for Nesta lolol

I hope this isn’t coming too late and that you still enjoy it (and that you remember the video lol).

Nesta slightly shied away as Gwyn cheered almost directly into her ear at the sight of someone doing a large cannonball into the pool. “Nice, Varian!”

They’d been invited to a pool party the weekend right before classes started, and although Nesta had been hesitant about attending, Tarquin had been so nice when he’d asked her to come that she would’ve felt bad to turn him down. He’d even told her to bring as many as her friends as she wanted, which was how Gwyn and Emerie had gotten roped into this mess.

She wasn’t full on regretting her choice to come, but she definitely wasn’t drunk enough yet to make it feel like a good decision.

“We should make a TikTok,” Gwyn suggested suddenly, grinning at the look of horror on Nesta’s face. “Come on, Nesta, it’ll be fun!”

“Famous last words,” Emerie chimed in with a sly grin of her own.

Nesta realized both of her friends were drunker than she was, and couldn’t help but sigh at them ganging up on her. “What did you have in mind?”

Fifteen minutes later, Gwyn had managed to spread the word they were making a video well enough to have a few people interested in being in it. The redhead hadn’t said what exactly they would be doing on camera, but Nesta trusted her.

Mostly.

“Okay,” Gwyn announced, clapping her hands together with glee. “Nesta, they’re going to pour shots in your mouth and you can rank them from one to ten.”

The bottle of vodka in her friend’s hand made much more sense now. Nesta couldn’t help but wish she’d managed to take a shot or two of her own before finding out what they would be doing. “Too late to back out now, huh?”

“Just go with it,” Emerie told her with a wink. “They don’t look so bad, and I’ll pour the first one if you want.”

Nesta took a moment to size up the people who’d volunteered to be in the video as Gwyn wrangled them into some kind of order. She recognized Gwyn’s cousin Eris, showing off his lean body in a pair of dark green swim trunks, as he chatted with Tarquin and his other cousin Cresseida. Their silver hair was almost blinding under the sun, but she’d risk the eye damage to keep looking at Cresseida’s curves in the blue bikini she had on.

As if on cue, Cresseida turned and looked over at where Nesta and Emerie were standing and winked at both of them before returning to her conversation. “God, she’s…”

“Yeah,” Nesta replied eloquently, fighting the urge to adjust her own navy swimsuit now that she knew Cresseida would be part of things. “She’s… God.”

Nesta didn’t recognize the two men at the back of the group, but they looked so similar she would’ve bet money they were brothers. The one with longer hair had his back to her, but he had on a pair of red swim trunks that seemed one wrong move away from splitting right down the seams. He was muscular all over, back muscles rippling as he reached up to retie half his hair into a messy bun, and Nesta had a brief but vivid fantasy of him using those hands on her instead.

His friend-probably-brother had his hair cut much shorter, but it revealed a handsome face with a jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. He had on a pair of black swim trunks that were much looser than the other guy’s, but he was similarly muscled and all that golden brown skin on display was making Nesta ready to risk it all.

Get it together, she told herself firmly. They’re just good looking guys.

By the time Nesta had finished her crisis, Gwyn was coming over and wiggling her freckled hand out for Nesta’s phone. “Let’s do this!”

As promised, Emerie got the first pour. She kept things relatively tame, having Nesta squat slightly so she could pour the alcohol down her friend’s throat without any difficulties. They high fived once Nesta stood up at her full height, and Gwyn shot them a big smile and a thumbs up once they were done.

“Not bad,” Nesta commented.

Emerie tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave a rather theatrical bow before motioning for Eris to go next.

“I can’t believe you’re not burning where you stand,” Nesta teased once he was close enough.

Eris rolled his eyes. “I would say you have a back up option if law school doesn’t work out, but you’d actually have to come up with original material for that.”

Nesta and Eris had known each other for years, almost as long as Nesta had known Gwyn. They traded insults just as easily as they traded flirtations, but most of the time everything was good-natured. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive — and no man alive could deny how beautiful she was — but they’d always worked better as friends, dirty jokes aside.

“Open up, princess,” he told her with a smirk, holding up the bottle to pour her a shot. He almost poured too much since he was busy making eyes at Tarquin, but Nesta managed to grab the bottle out of his hand just in time.

“I think we can rule bartender out of your future,” she teased.

“Shut up,” Eris retorted, flicking her gently between the forehead. He grabbed the bottle back and turned to face Tarquin and Cresseida, raising the bottle in greeting. “You’re up, Sharkboy.”

“Oh, I’m just here to feel included,” Tarquin admitted with a self-deprecating grin. “Cresseida is the one who really wanted to do it.”

“I’m all yours,” Nesta replied, turning to face Cresseida and praying to every god who was listening that her cheeks weren’t too flushed. Eris handed over the bottle with a knowing grin, and Nesta wasn’t above reaching out to pinch him in the side where she knew he hated it.

“Just the way I like you.” Cresseida’s smile was just sharp enough that it made Nesta’s toes want to curl. “Cool if I touch you?”

“Very.”

Cresseida just laughed softly before taking the bottle of vodka and checking with Gwyn to make sure the cameras were rolling. Nesta didn’t have any warning before Cresseida was stepping behind her, wrapping one hand around Nesta’s throat, and tipping her head back to pour a shot out.

When Nesta looked back up, both Emerie and Gwyn were slightly slack-jawed at the show Cresseida had just given them.

“Hope that’s worth the top spot,” Cresseida said, smirking at the expression on Nesta’s face. “See you around, Archeron.”

“See you,” Nesta managed to return, openly ogling Cresseida as she walked away. Fuck, women like that made Nesta ready to risk it all for even a crumb of attention.

“Uh,” she began, before clearing her throat and trying again. “Okay. Who’s next?”

Nesta turned to see the two friends-maybe-brothers were at the front of line, and she cocked her head as she wondered which one of them would go first.

“I just came for moral support,” the shorter haired one said, shoving the longer haired one in Nesta’s direction. “Don’t count me in for any of this.”

“Thanks for the solidarity, Azriel,” the longer haired one replied.

Azriel just rolled his eyes and went to stand close to Gwyn. “I didn’t even know you could spell solidarity.”

Nesta stifled a laugh behind her hand as the longer haired one approached her, but it quickly died on her lips as he came close enough to talk to her.

“Hey,” he said, a knowing smirk curving one side of his lips up. He was even more attractive up close, especially with an eyebrow scar slicing through his right brow. He was so much taller than Nesta that she should’ve felt slightly trapped, but other, less logical parts of her were responding instead. “I’m Cassian.”

“Nesta,” she replied. His eyes were so pretty in the light, but she forced herself to act like a normal person instead. “Thanks for volunteering.”

“I don’t say no when women like you are involved,” Cassian responded cheekily.

“Who said you’ve ever met a woman like me?” Nesta shot back, thankful that she’d managed to retain at least some of her wit.

He tilted his head back and laughed, more of his curls falling loose from the motion. “Touché.”

“If you two are done flirting,” Emerie cut in, her tone bored but her eyes twinkling with amusement. “We have a video to finish.”

Nesta shot a glare in her friend’s direction, but Emerie just smiled serenely as she passed Cassian the vodka and picked up Nesta’s phone. “Ready when you two are.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Cassian asked, pulling Nesta’s attention back to him. Even buzzed, she could appreciate the sincere look on his face, and the fact that he’d asked the question at all was a good sign.

“Yeah,” Nesta answered. Feeling bold, she added, “Do your worst.”

“I’d have to, to follow that up.”

He grinned down at her before maneuvering them so they were facing one another, their side profiles on full display for the camera. Emerie counted down from three before she began recording, and the moment Cassian stepped into her personal space she knew this was going to be the highlight of the video.

Cassian tilted his head back and poured a generous amount of vodka in his mouth before reaching out and resting his hand on her throat. Nesta gasped at how good his hand felt there before her mind could catch up, but it proved to be the right thing to do when he leaned down and poured the shot directly into her mouth. She held eye contact with him as she swallowed, the alcohol burning a path right down her throat.

She held her breath as he moved the hand on her throat just enough so he could brush his thumb against her lips. His touch was light, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

“Missed a little,” he explained, his voice deeper than it was a few moments ago.

“O-kay,” Emerie said slowly, breaking the spell. Nesta blinked and turned toward her friend as Cassian released his hold on her, but the feeling of his hand on her throat lingered as she walked over to where Emerie was standing.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to add some text to the video for their rankings, and Emerie hit the share button after adding a caption and tagging herself and Gwyn. Nesta looked up to see Cassian was waiting at a respectful distance, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied them, but his expression cleared once he realized Nesta was watching him.

“You want me to tag you?” Nesta asked, taking her phone from Emerie’s hands and walking over to him.

“I want a lot of things, but we can start there,” Cassian replied. She rolled her eyes and passed him her phone anyway, watching as he typed in his username — @ lordofbloodshed — before passing it back.

“I teach kickboxing,” he explained. “You should take a class.”

“Oh?” she responded, somewhat curious. She’d thought about doing some kind of self-defense classes with Gwyn and Emerie, but maybe kicking the shit out of something would be more satisfying. Especially if her teacher looked like that.

“You seem like you need help working some things out,” Cassian added with a smirk. “I’d be happy to help.”

“I’m sure you would,” Nesta said dryly. She looked down at her phone and made sure to follow him, hoping she’d remember to try and stalk him across other apps later. “I’ll think about it.”

“All I can ask, sweetheart,” he said back.

Later, once she’d slept off the alcohol and showered the sweat and chlorine off, Nesta couldn’t even pretend to be shocked that the video had gone viral.

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #Nessian prompts #moodymelanistwrites #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #eris vanserra #Tarquin #cresseida #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #emerie of illyria #⭐️

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clonerightsagenda · 1 year

Text

I was going to save this for one of my podcast girls week entries, but I wrote it out and then thought, why sit on it, so here is today's ladies night content before I go on a walk: Alien zombie Alana Maxwell is an underutilized concept and here's why.

She'd be cool with it. Maxwell works with AI who are ported between containers without that changing who they are, so she's primed to view her mind and memories being rebooted in a new container similarly. I don't think she'd have any identity crises. Also, her dad was a preacher, she's not on good terms with her family, and she tried to ditch the holiday party, which makes me guess she's ex-Christian. How better to spite your Christian parents than coming back from the dead in a distinctly non-God honoring way? This could generate some interesting conflict with Lovelace, who is significantly less cool with it and might be annoyed and dismayed to see someone else taking alien resurrection in stride. Bonus points considering I hc Lovelace as being raised Catholic and the soul question being an additional level of identity angst that Maxwell immediately dismisses.

The aliens have motive. It's clear that watching through their surrogates' eyes doesn't mean they understand what they see. Once Lovelace gets back to Earth, they might want help with context. They seem to have grasped that humans don't like multiple copies of a person running around, and of the others they have on file, they dislike Kepler and Cutter, and Rachel and Riemann were there when Cutter killed one of their meatsuits, so Maxwell seems like the one they'd have the least aversion to. Then she would immediately try to talk them into roadtripping to see things in person, which is how we can get all the other interactions I'm describing.

The aliens have opportunity. It's not stated what the crew did with Maxwell's body, but the likely options are either tossing her into the star or freezing her on the station, which later went into the star. Lovelace was frozen (albeit alive) when she got scanned, and Word of God is that the Dear Listeners are perfectly capable of creating a functioning surrogate from a corpse. If you don't want to go that angle, almost everyone got hit by multiple rounds of stellar activity in "Persuasion". However, the corpse angle creates an opening for...

Fun body horror. I am a 'came back wrong' enjoyer and think it would be very good if the aliens got their scanned corpse up and running but didn't fuss too much about the cosmetic stuff. Maxwell's skin is colder than it ought to be. She has a gnarly scar on her forehead. Neither of these bother her much, but she's not a fan of the tingling neuropathy left over from tissue damage or the brain fog from the bullet that went through her head. (A fun parallel to the issue she first helped Hera with. Hera is now in the brain damage club with Doug, Miranda, and Maxwell. She hates this.) She can fun-terrorize Jacobi with perma-cold hands and real-terrorize Minkowski by making her look at the hole in her head. She's honestly over it but it's still funny to watch her squirm.

The Hera thing. Hera was furious with Maxwell immediately after the mutiny, and although her opinions softened near the end of the show, I think she'd be furious again if Maxwell actually showed up. She embraced non-human solidarity with Lovelace and now here's Maxwell. What is she supposed to do, have non-human solidarity with her too?? Did Maxwell become an alien to spite her??? The nerve. I got the impression that Maxwell saw her actions during the mutiny as for Hera's own good - better than deleting her, right? - just as she was willing to ignore Hera's wishes and erase her memories in Memoria. She'd probably insist on that if they had a chance to argue about it, and I could see Hera throwing the restraining bolt incident in her face. ("If you're so comfortable putting something into people's brains to make them more useful to you, I'm sure you won't mind hearing how Jacobi got that scar on the back of his neck.") Could be juicy, is my point.

Meanwhile, Jacobi: Of course this is my very good friend Maxwell back from the dead. Yes this has implications for the version of myself I listened to die screaming. No I'm not going to unpack that.

Finally, I think it's a missed opportunity that Pryce and Maxwell never got to meet. I suspect pre-mutiny Maxwell would want to believe she was ethically better than Pryce while pre-finale Pryce would see Maxwell as a bleeding heart amateur, but after all that? I think they'd still get each other's hackles up, but there's room for some interesting interaction, especially as I think Miranda's memories would start trickling back after a while, and immortal alien surrogate Maxwell is basically her white whale. Miranda trying to navigate social niceties enough to determine an acceptable way to ask someone for tissue samples. Maxwell might be willing to swap some for custody over a few of Pryce’s experimental AIs.

In conclusion, while I enjoy postcanon scenarios dissecting people's trauma, I think it's fun if while everyone else is grappling with the Horrors, Maxwell is also there enjoying herself. *commercial voice* Add an alien Maxwell to YOUR postcanon today.

#for 12 low payments of $0.00 #perpetual perpetual ladies night #wolf 359 #visibly undead Maxwell dragging an alien doing a really bad human impression around Florida: :D #everyone else seeing this: D:#spending my last day of winter break blogging furiously

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

Hi Clan!

How are you?

I have a FNAC 2 oneshot request, being Withered New Candy x Nightguard! Gender Neutral! Reader.

Y/N lost the bet so they have to spend their first night at the abandonned factory, but when they realize they aren't alone, they panic. When they notice it is Candy and Co, they have a flashback to themselves when they were a child, loving to spend time in Candy's restaurant, where they lost their toy, but Candy finds it and brings it back to Y/N.

They are happy to see them again, but when Candy attacks them, not recognizing them, Y/N panics, thinking it was their time to die. But at the last moment, Candy's remaining eye remembers Y/N, remembering finding their lost toy, and hugs Y/N, as he's happy to see them again.

And it ends with Y/N meeting Cindy and the rest of the gang, happy to meet their heroes once again. :)

Do you like my request? Will you do it?

Hi! I appreciate you waiting for this one! <3

..........

"You kidding? They couldn't have bothered to turn on the lights for me?" Annoyed, you just shook your head in dismay, flickering on the cheap company-owned flashlight you owned and looking down the dark hall.

After losing a bet to your fellow coworkers, you were forced to take over the nightshift at Rowboatics Corp. Factory for an entire week.

Whoever last worked here was kind enough to leave you a note on how all the phone lines and the security camera system were still online. But the final line had you confused:

"Make sure nothing gets in or out"

Obviously, you understood that meant no unauthorized personnel were allowed inside....but as to what could possibly get out remained a mystery to you.

Then again, they were probably another coworker who was convinced this place was "haunted" at night. And you're not entirely opposed to that idea considering its history of casualties.

You recalled reading an article on two young twins who somehow snuck in here, only to get killed by the animatronic assembly machine. The nightguard at the time apparently fell asleep, unaware of what was happening until it was much too late.

Although you wondered how and why two little kids would ever go to such a creepy factory all by themselves, you knew you couldn't make that same mistake. So you made sure to stay awake the entire night by any means neccessary.

For now though, all was quiet. You just relaxed in your chair, pulling up the security feed to survey the building's layout. You weren't a fan of the fact that you were stationed in the central hall with so much space....but you had nobody to complain to except yourself.

'At least it's not a claustrophobic office space..though I'd feel slightly safer...' You thought, before shrugging it off.

As half an hour passed...nothing remarkable happened. The only things you saw on the cameras were rats scurrying out from the shadows, sneaking under shelves and crates and whatnot.

When 1AM rolled around, however---

[CONNECTION LOST]

The camera you were viewing abruptly went offline, startling you. And you wondered if somebody else was here trying to sabotage the footage.

What if there were robbers?

You weren't exactly trained to deal with that.

[RECONNECTING...]

When the system rebooted, you nearly jumped out of your skin upon seeing...Candy?

No. It was Cindy.

You recognized her by the lavender fur. She was staring right up at the camera lens, and you could see the damage to her body done by time and improper upkeep: evident by her exposed endoskeleton pieces and the fact she was missing an eye.

'How is she still active?' Bewildered, you just stared right back at her, before finally realizing this is what the note warned you about:

The animatronics. They shouldn't get out for any reason.

And there's probably a reason why the phones were left on, as they were able to easily lure Cindy to them..

In order to keep them as far away from you as possible.

...........

The second night at Rowaboatics was more or less the same, except Chester started walking around, attempting to break into one of the vents that led directly to your office space. He was trying to tear the grate off, and he almost succeeded-

Until you rang the phone to startle him out of the room, running so fast he was almost like a blur.

Eventually, he found another way to you and showed up in the central hall for the first time. You were in disbelief at his even worse condition: the material around his upper face was completely gone, leaving his endoskeleton head visible and no eyes at all.

It was creepy as shit, but luckily he didn't get any closer to your desk, as you discreetly called another phone line and he followed the sound.

Somehow you fooled him yet again.

Of course, the animatronics would always go to rooms where noise was loudest. It was coded into them, so they couldn't resist it even if they knew nobody else was here but you.

Cindy, on the other hand, was a bit of a nuisance in that she'd try to temporarily cut off power to those phones, but you've anticipated her path in the factory, so she was easy to keep at bay.

It was the third night when things started to get real.

And by that, it meant Candy himself activated and joined the fray, aimlessly wandering the facility until he became aware of your presence. He was in a similar condition as his sister, but obviously wasn't looking to spend any time with her or sing little duets.

He was trying to get to you by any means necessary.

While making you feel uneasy, seeing him and the rest of the gang walking around does bring a smile to your face, taking you back to a happier time...

A time that made you feel like you had a genuine connection with these characters, especially the mascot himself..

"Where is it?! I know it was here!!!"

There you were, little panic-striken you, running around the Candy's Burgers & Fries' dining room like a headless chicken as you searched high and low for your missing plushie.

You left it on your seat by accident, remembering it just as you got into the car. Luckily, your guardian allowed you to go back inside to search, but only for five minutes. And as those minutes ticked down, you worried that you'll never get to see it again...especially when you saw it disappeared from the seat.

But before you could get too upset, you heard familiar thumping mechanical footsteps and turned around, looking up at Candy. Your eyes shimmered with hope that he could help you out. He didn't seem like he had a show to run to, thank goodness.

"Candy!! H-Have you seen the toy I left right here? It looks like..." You trailed off, watching as he kneeled down in front of you, smiling as he moved his hand out from behind his back to reveal....

Your long lost plushie!

"That's it!! Thank you! Thank you, Candy!!" You grinned, taking it from him.

He nodded, but before he could stand back up, you hugged him around the neck. You didn't care if it was against the rules to touch the animatronics..you were just too happy right now to worry about an adult scolding you.

Candy didn't seem to mind it at all, as he hugged you back just as tightly, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Of course, little kit! Your best pal Candy will always be here to help!"

"I'm here to help-p-p-"

"Ah!!" Jumping at the loud clanking footsteps, you were snapped out of reminiscence and stared straight ahead at the withered mascot, who somehow got into the hall.

His voice was miraculously still functioning, but you weren't smiling at all this time around.

Considering the way he looked at you with such a dead one-eyed stare...it's obvious he didn't recognize you whatsoever.

You tried calling one of the phones, yet he didn't react to the noise at all. For a moment his head did twitch, as though trying to resist his programmed response to search for it.

Unfortunately for you, he succeeded.

You were in his sights and he couldn't be fooled this time around.

He stalked closer and closer to your desk. You knew you couldn't run anywhere, as another animatronic could catch up to you easily, so you tried staying as still as possible.

'Shit..this is what I get for daydreaming on the job..' You shuddered, wondering what was going to happen next.

Was he going to attack you? Kill you?

You didn't think that would be possible for a robot that's made to protect guests and employees of a children's restaurant....

But as Candy lurched forward and slammed his hands onto the desk, growling mechanically, you realized those protocols were most likely corrupted. For all he knew, you were a dangerous criminal who was going to cause trouble in this factory.

And he was ready to eliminate the threat.

There was nothing but an old desk protecting you from him.

Yet you were too afraid to look away, fearing he'll lunge if you made any sudden movements. But while staring back at him, you noticed his remaining eye continuously focusing, his pupil size shifting. You could hear the clicking of his jaw as it opened and closed, recognizing this as the animatronic's way of scanning somebody's potential criminal database.

Then....

He spoke again, sounding less threatening and more like his old self.

"[Y/n]...? L-L-Little...kit....?"

At first, you were in total shock, before a huge smile overtook your face. "Y-Yeah..it's me, Candy." You answered nervously. "You..remember me?"

As it turns out, his memories weren't lost after all, as he stood up straight and smiled back, nodding his head. You couldn't contain your joy and relief that he recognized you, hopping out of your seat to hug him.

He was surprised, but soon hugged you right back. It was quick one in case his joint motors locked up or accidentally crushed you, though he felt happy to share a hug with one of his favorite patrons again.

"Look at you..all-l-l grown up.." He marveled as he let you go, identifying the name tag on your security jacket. "A nightguard?"

"Yep. I'm a guard now." Chuckling, you looked around the facility, frowning slightly when you gazed back at Candy's withered condition. "What happened to you guys? Did they just...forget to fix you?"

"..fix us....? No...we were too broken to them-m-m." He shook his head. "Too dangerous...too unstable..."

"Dangerous? Unstable? You? I don't buy it." You huffed, unable to believe the technicians simply gave up on repairing them. "Nothing's ever "too broken" to fix."

".....that's what I-I told them....but-t...as time went on, we lost hope..." He sighed, before he perked up, his ears twitching as his smile returned. "But now you're here, [y/n]....and...they want to see you. Come on-n-n!"

With excitement in his glitchy voice, Candy began walking away, and you hesitantly followed him. You kept the flashlight with you, unsure of where he was leading you to.

Though when you heard more animatronic noises, you stopped short, fear seizing every inch of you. "C-Candy, I don't think it's a good idea. They don't remember me like-"

"We haven't seen a h-human in a long time, but o-once they see you...they'll remember-r-r," he promised. "My friends a-and I will keep you safe."

While you were still uncertain about trusting him this quickly, you bravely entered the room behind him, immediately seeing Cindy, Chester, Blank, and Penguin all gathered there.

The latter two were in horrible condition, with the drawing animatronic's usual doodles being washed off, and the poor waiter's sweet blue eyes and beak being completely gone.

Yet true to their leader's word, they expressed no hostilities towards you unlike they did the first two nights.

In fact they acted the exact opposite, being happy that the child who used to visit them was now working at the factory--although you didn't have the heart to tell them you only took this shift because of a stupid bet.

But maybe losing that bet wasn't so bad after all.

This place wasn't haunted. It was just full of lonely, broken animatronics who hoped to see their best friend again; animatronics who needed a light in their dark, dark world...

And you brought that back to them.

#clanask #fnac x reader #five nights at candy's x reader #fnac 2 x reader #five nights at candy's 2 x reader #nightguard reader #withered new candy #platonic

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sustraiii · 4 months

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TEAM ZRCN ARC 4 CHAPTER 16

Cherry, Neela, and Xanthos get more than they bargained for when encountering Maia Astrella.

Xanthos

Wisteria had fallen from a balcony, pulling Miho with her. In all likelihood, Wisteria was very much dead too. Xanthos didn't say it out loud of course - even he knew that was a bit tasteless - but it was something he believed. Even if by some miracle she had survived there was no way she was walking away injury free. If there were any justice in the world for his teammate, maybe she'd have damaged one of her legs.

Still, despite what issues Xanthos had with her - issues likely shared by his teammates - he would have felt bad if she had truly died. She had been an annoying presence when they first encountered each other, but it was hard to ignore how different she had been in recent weeks, as though her spirit had been dampened. In those final moments, she had not cared what had happened to her, she had just wanted Miho. And she had gotten what she wanted in the end. Even if it had potentially come at the cost of her own life.

"What are we going to do if Wisteria is actually dead?" Neela asked. Xanthos was quietly relieved she had asked the question that had been on his mind.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Cherry responded, sighing as she did. “Regardless of what her fate is, I just know there’s going to be a lot of backlash from the higher-ups in the military about it.” And then, in a softer tone, she added, “As if there wasn’t already enough to begin with.”

With everything that had happened with their arrival in Olympia and then reaching the O.R.C.A.S, Xanthos had almost forgotten that Cherry, Elio, and Morgan had all disobeyed orders in coming here. Not only would they be in big trouble with Wren but the General too.

The three of them found a set of stairs and Cherry encouraged them to go down. They weren't sure how they had gotten three floors up with how backwards this place was, but they knew they needed to go down if they wanted to reach Wisteria and Miho. They had made it down two flights of stairs when the sound of a nearby voice gave them pause. Cherry held her hand up for them to stop and then raised a finger to her lips urging them to be silent.

It took a moment for Xanthos to pick up on what was being said, the speaker kept going from loud and clear to a lower mumble.

"Why won't you answer me!?" The speaker suddenly yelled. Whoever the voice belonged to was clearly a woman, and by the tone, she seemed frustrated at something or other.

Xanthos could hear the sound of footsteps but they didn't draw too close. By the repetitive nature of her walking, Xanthos got the impression that she was pacing back and forth.

"Bloody Bianca…couldn't even maintain the connection properly…probably Lunick's fault…useless, useless, USELESS!"

At the woman's growing frustration, Xanthos and Neela shared a worried glance. Xanthos looked at Cherry, trying to see if she had anything to say on the matter, but she only had a furrowed brow and looked deep in thought herself.

The woman stopped pacing and began speaking quietly again. Xanthos had to really focus to hear what she had to say.

"Where are you, Uriah?"

By the mention of the name, Xanthos wondered if the woman they were listening to was his sister, Maia. They knew little about her but Wisteria had at least confirmed that she and Uriah were siblings.

"Let's take her down," Cherry said, gesturing with a flick of her head. "Quietly."

Xanthos and Neela nodded slowly. Cherry led the way, putting her bhuj in its back holster before approaching. Xanthos and Neela followed suit, their own weapons holstered, cautiously looking ahead.

"Maia Astrella?" Cherry called out quietly, quickly drawing the other woman's attention. Maia was a young woman, in her early twenties from what Xanthos could remember, but with a youthful face that made her seem slightly younger. She had pale skin, wavy brown hair, and teal eyes. Although she seemed a bit startled at the call of her name, Xanthos noticed she seemed more curious than scared. One thin brow arched upwards as she studied the three of them. "It is advisable that you come quietly," Cherry continued, speaking with a calm and controlled voice. She took a step towards Maia but the woman took a step back. "This doesn't have to end in a fight."

The reaction from Maia was almost immediate. The curiosity disappeared in a flash, only to be replaced by red hot anger as she pulled out her weapon - a morningstar - and charged. Cherry hadn't pulled her weapon out yet, so narrowly dodged as Maia swung it at her head. Clearly Maia had put some force behind the swing, as whilst it missed Cherry, it got lodged in a nearby wall and she had to fight to try and pull it out.

"You don't have to do this," Cherry pressed. In response, Maia merely growled, putting both hands on the shaft of her weapon and finally tugging it free.

"Piss. Off," Maia spat, stalking towards Cherry again. As she did, Xanthos noticed a pink sheen washing over Cherry, an indication that her semblance was kicking in. Xanthos recalled from a sudden training session that Cherry had hosted for him and Neela that her semblance granted her increased strength when people were emotional in her vicinity. He didn't know if it was intentional but Maia was obviously the perfect battery for that semblance.

Cherry and Maia exchanged a few blows, their weapons clanging off each other, but doing no major damage at the moment. As Xanthos watched, waiting for an opening to step in and help, he noted something odd. Whilst Maia was currently grappling with Cherry, her gaze kept drifting elsewhere…to Neela. And by the look on his friend's face, she had noticed it too.

A heavy blow from Maia against Cherry's bhuj, opened up a window for Maia to strike. For one so small, Xanthos was surprised at how vicious she became. Maia did not relent for a moment, kicking, shoving, punching, and swinging her weapon with dangerous intent. Cherry caught a swift blow to her right hand with Maia's weapon, pulling back with a grimace. Her aura flared dramatically which surprised Xanthos as the strike hadn't seemed that bad.

"How?" Cherry questioned, flexing her injured hand.

Maia grinned and dashed forward, about to swing at her with a downward strike, only to be parried by Cherry quickly raising her bhuj to counter. Maia seemed to falter slightly and desperately tried to pull back. However, she was too slow, as Cherry raised a foot and kicked her sharply in the stomach and sending her sprawling on her back.

Maia quickly righted herself, rising to her feet before Cherry or anyone else could get to her. With three people surrounding her, she seemed a bit unsure of what to do herself. Her gaze lingered on Cherry before shaking her head angrily and looking at Neela and Xanthos. Her eyes narrowed and with a small swish of her hand, she shifted her weapon to an alternate form. Xanthos watched as the spiked head dropped on a chain, turning it from a simple morningstar to a ball and chain weapon.

Her gaze followed Xanthos's downwards and when they met, she gave him a smirk before lunging forward again, this time going straight for her real target - Neela.

Neela lifted her weapon ready to intervene, shifting it from its spear form to a trident. Although she was ready, it was Xanthos who got to Maia first, whipping the ground in front of her to try and halt her movements. It did stop her momentarily but she was quick to continue moving, focused and determined to get to Neela.

Behind Maia they could see Cherry working her way up to her again, giving a gesture to Neela to create some sort of distraction. Neela pulled back her weapon suddenly, which Maia saw as an opportunity to move forward, only for Neela to slam the tip of her weapon into the floor, creating an icy formation where it had struck. Maia pulled back sharply to avoid getting skewered, the sleeve of her jacket tearing on the ice as she tried to shield herself.

“Bitch!” Maia hissed, glaring at Neela.

She was so focused on yelling that she didn’t notice Cherry sneak up and grab her from behind.

Maia genuinely yelped as Cherry got her arm around her and pulled her back. She thrashed around in Cherry’s arms like some sort of wild animal, screaming, kicking, and generally making a lot of noise. Despite Cherry’s best efforts to restrain her, even she could not withstand the wild thrashing. Using her own momentum, Maia managed to plant both of her feet firmly on the ground, leaned forward and then slammed her back into Cherry’s chest. Cherry’s grip slackened as she gasped in surprise and Maia used the opportunity to break free out of her grasp.

Maia would take a few steps forward before turning on her heel and advancing on Cherry again. Although her weapon had fallen to the floor following Cherry’s surprise attack, it didn’t stop the young woman from throwing punch after punch at her. Alarmingly, with every hit Xanthos noted it seemed to be causing more damage, almost as if her attacks were growing in strength.

Cherry eventually got a window to retaliate, throwing up one arm to parry a punch, before using her other hand to land an uppercut against Maia. The other woman staggered back slightly and was then shoved further back by Cherry. Maia yelled something incomprehensible back at Cherry and then tried to punch her again. This time Xanthos noticed that Cherry appeared to almost shrug the hit off. And it seemed by the dawning look of realisation on her face, Cherry realised it too.

“Do not let her grab her weapon!” Cherry ordered, gesturing to Neela who was standing closer to the discarded weapon.

“Oh, you’re sharper than you look,” Maia said mockingly. “Figured it out did you?”

Cherry shrugged. Once again, the two women charged forward, Maia dashing her weapon and Cherry rushing to grab Maia. They got caught in a grapple, Maia fighting hard to break free, and Cherry fighting to keep hold of her. Xanthos could only watch as they grunted and tried to get in small hits against each other.

Cherry eventually managed to get her arms lowered down on Cherry’s body, trying to twist her slightly and pull her to the ground. As she did so, her foot slipped slightly and Maia sensed this weakness and kicked it out with one of her feet causing Cherry to lose her balance. With Cherry’s balance thrown, it was Maia who managed to get her arms around Cherry’s waist, pulling her forward and then throwing her against the stairs she had come down with Xanthos and Neela.

As she landed against the stairs, Cherry landed awkwardly on her back crying out in pain as she did so. Her aura flared up and then promptly broke. Satisfied her work was done, Maia walked away, once again heading for her weapon. Cherry heaved herself off the stairs gingerly, resting on her knees in a defeated lump.

“You have to…” Cherry’s voice trailed off as she fought to regain her breath. “You have to break her aura!”

Xanthos nodded understanding what he needed to do. His golden eyes travelled over to Neela, who nodded back at him, her grip on her weapons tightening. With Cherry down for the count, it was down to the two of them to deal with Maia. Sure, she might have been able to hit hard, but it didn’t seem like she had much in the way of any sort of tactic. That and her aura was likely very low. One or two strong hits would be enough to break potentially.

Having retrieved her weapon, Maia was back up on the offence, but again she seemed primarily focused on Neela. Ironically, that worked out better in Xanthos and Neela’s favour though. Neela could engage her first and keep her distracted, whilst Xanthos could work around them and try and catch her by surprise. He knew they would need a strong hit to break Maia’s aura, and whilst Xanthos did not doubt Neela’s fighting ability, he knew that they would have better luck with his semblance.

A knowing gaze was aimed towards Neela and she nodded, seemingly understanding he was leaving things to her for a moment.

Neela carried herself well as she defended herself from Maia’s violent strikes. Even when not using her weapon in its trident or spear form, and merely using it to block, Neela moved it with expert precision. Maia did manage to get a few small blows on Neela but was parried more often than she managed to break free and land a hit. Clearly, this was frustrating her quite a bit as she started swinging and hitting out wildly, losing what little technique she had.

Finally, it was Xanthos’s time to strike. A quick strike with his whip, managed to stop Maia in her tracks as she tried to go in for another swing. As she turned, Xanthos rushed suddenly, already having used his semblance to alter his weight, meaning that when his punch caught her in the jaw, it hit hard.

So hard, in fact, that Maia ended up going flying backwards again, landing hard on her back. As hoped, as she attempted to sit back up, her teal aura flickered into life and promptly broke.

“Stay down,” Xanthos said, uncharacteristically cold.

Turning away from her, he approached Neela and gave her a small smile, trying to gauge how she was feeling. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright,” Neela responded. “A bit sore but otherwise okay. We’re lucky Cherry tired her out.”

Xanthos nodded in agreement. She had a point, had Cherry not worn Maia down, he doubted they would have fared well against her had they tried to take her on individually. Speaking of Cherry, the woman was approaching them now, still walking a bit gingerly but looking a bit brighter than she had when instructing the two of them to break Maia’s aura.

“Nice punch, Ravi,” Cherry complimented. “Elio didn’t teach you that did he? I swear I’ve seen him throw a punch like that.”

“Nope all me,” Xanthos grinned.

Cherry chuckled a little but had to forcibly stop laughing as she was in some discomfort doing so. “I’m going to see if I can reach the others,” Cherry explained, gesturing to her earpiece with a finger. “Probably won’t get through but - oh hey, would you look at that it worked!”

Cherry promptly turned her head away, talking into her earpiece to what sounded like Morgan based on her words, explaining what had happened with Wisteria and Miho and that the three of them had then come across Maia. As she was speaking, Xanthos turned to look back at Maia having seen some movement out of the corner of his eye. The woman had managed to pull herself onto her knees and was now sitting there slightly hunched over mumbling away to herself. Xanthos tried to discern what she was saying, but it honestly just sounded like more of the incomprehensible muttering she had been doing earlier. With a small gesture, he made Neela aware of her talking, but like Xanthos she seemed unable to pick up on anything, merely giving him a shrug. Assuming she was just talking away to herself, Xanthos turned away again, instead focusing back on Cherry. Later he would curse himself for looking away.

“I will not lose another home to a fucking Oxford!”

It wasn’t so much the words that caught his attention, but rather the scraping of Maia’s weapon against the floor, as she recollected her weapon which had fallen when he knocked her down. He heard the sound of a weapon connecting with someone, the sound of pierced flesh, and then a startled gasp. Xanthos remembered Maia’s earlier determination to get to Neela and he turned fully expecting to see her with a morningstar lodged in her body.

To Xanthos’s relief, it was not Neela who was the injured party. It was Maia.

Maia was up on one knee, her weapon raised above her head, as though she were trying to stand up and hit Neela. Unfortunately for her, Neela had reacted quickly and had caught her before she could do any damage. The three prongs of Neela’s trident were wedged in her chest - one prong just below the clavicle, and two just below that. Xanthos tensed up as he took in the gory scene before him. Beside him, Cherry cursed, before hastily disconnecting from the call she had made.

Maia let out a horrible gurgling sound before she dropped her weapon and fell to the side, freeing herself from the trident as she did so.

Neela dropped her trident and quickly rushed to the woman’s side, her hands desperately trying to stem the flow of the heavy bleeding from Maia’s chest.

“No, no, no…” She mumbled as shaky hands tried to cover the wounds.

Xanthos’s heart ached to see her so distressed. He knew Neela would not have intended to kill Maia, though in the situation would have only had moments to react and defend herself.

"Neela," Cherry's voice called out softly. "I don't think-"

"NO!" Neela cried out. “I have to help her! I have to stop this! I didn’t mean - I don’t want her to die!”

Maia was continuing to make such horrible sounds. Not only was her blood steadily pooling around her but she was coughing it up too, leaving bloody spittle on her chin. Sudden gasping sounds could be heard coming from her and it didn’t take an expert to know that these were Maia’s final breaths.

As the light started to fade from her eyes, she had time to mutter one final thing to Neela. “Fucking…Oxfords.”

Her words were swiftly replaced by another gargle before her head lolled to the side and all was still.

“No…NO!” Neela yelled. Xanthos was quite taken aback when she suddenly began shaking the other woman quite violently, as though trying to will some life back into her.

Cherry moved to take a step forward but Xanthos held his hand out to stop her. When her pink eyes bore into him questioningly, he merely shook his head hoping that she would understand that he needed to be the one to comfort his friend.

Xanthos knelt beside his teammate, who looked at him wearily with tears in her eyes. “Nee-”

“Get away from me, Xanthos!”

“Neela, stop, look at me!” Xanthos said, forcefully gripping her shoulders so she would look at him. “She’s gone, Neela. You can’t bring her back.”

Neela shook her head a little. Xanthos wasn’t sure if it was denial or a slow acceptance of what she had done. “I didn’t mean to,” Neela choked out, bottom lip quivering.

His blue-haired teammate leaned forward a bit so her forehead was resting against his shoulder, mindful not to touch him with her bloodied hands. Xanthos carefully manoeuvered one arm around so that he could rest a hand on her back, patting comfortingly.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Xanthos said. “Neela, it was self-defense. If you didn’t retaliate she could have hurt you or attacked me or Cherry.”

Neela sniffed. “I know, I know, I just wonder if it was the right decision?”

“You acted in the moment to defend yourself and the two of us,” Cherry said, quickly joining the conversation. “Maia’s death is unfortunate but do not fault yourself for defending yourself.”

Neela hiccuped awkwardly into Xanthos's shoulder and he felt her head shifting as if nodding again. There was little else said between the three of them after that. As much as Xanthos wished to continue comforting his teammate, he knew that in her present state, his words were likely to fall on deaf ears. No matter how much he and Cherry tried to assure her it was an accident, Xanthos knew the guilt would linger in his friend for a long time. He could only hope that in time she would forgive herself. For now though, he was content to support her and stand by her side. No matter where this went moving forward, he would be with her through all of it.

#team zrcn fic #team zrcn #neela oxford #xanthos ravindra #cherry linnet #maia astrella

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