#now i just have to suffer through the horrors until my body shuts down <3

[lovebugism]

me pretending the horrors aren't kicking in

#im losing it tonight fellas #wee rant feel free to ignore heheh #i'm secluding myself bc i'm sad but i can hear my roommates having fun without me downstairs #and now i'm More sad about that even though i could literally join them at any time #and i'm stressed about driving tomorrow bc everything's covered in snow #but i wanna be home for my mom's birthday bc i know she'll be sad if i'm not there #i am Not doing well but i drunk to much caffeine to go to sleep #now i just have to suffer through the horrors until my body shuts down <3 #shut up bug

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Actually, actually, actually! Idea! (But only if you like it.)

In HoS, it has literally been 10,000 years since all 3 died.

What if Shadow wasn't supposed to be all-the-way back? And the only reason he is is due to being the Hero?

What about Hemisi & Nabooru?

Who's to say Gdorf's magic would've even worked on them? What if they were already reincarnated by that point?

What if, even reviving their bodies would've resulted in little more than mindless puppets? (Honestly, I kinda wanna read about the shear horror on both their faces. Like, horror & panic on Gdorf's end & horror, but slight relief on Shadow's. Because he can only hope that whatever's keeping Nabooru from suffering the same fate as himself means that she's free.)

What if the only way to get them back fully was to do some pretty dark, nasty stuff? Like, legit bad, horrible stuff? What if Gdorf has to sacrifice their new incarnations to do so?

What if, in order to even bring Shadow back, he'd already done something bad? Though, due to the Hero's Spirit, he was able to get away with just the sacrifice of someone who'd been related to Shadow? Like a great x1000 times grandnephew or something?

What if Shadow learned of this? The betrayal.

Like, massive dark spell stuff. Which, I've always found it weird that he & the Twinrova were the legit only Gerudo with that shading, yet each of them used black magic.

So, that's what I think causes it. Black magic. Like, legit evil deeds.

Who knows, maybe that stuff actually corrupts the mind the more you use it? What if you have to stop cold turkey to stop the process?

What if Gdorf had stopped doing that stuff, but the Secret Stone tapped into that source & now it's sort of rotting his brain away?

Also, what's the deal with the Twinrova here? They evil witches? No?

Sorry, when I get started, my braims refuse to shut up. 😓

Don't be sorry, you're fine! ;D It's fun to talk theories and ideas!

Ganondorf would be so devastated if Nabooru and Hemisi were just mindless puppets, I think. But I also think he wouldn't give up. He'd just be like "Well, this is a setback, but at least they'll listen to me until I can figure this out better." I don't know if Link would feel much relief from it or just be plain horrified, it would feel like such a desecration to him.

If they'd actually reincarnated, though, and if Ganondorf needed to sacrifice them to revive them, I wonder whose Nabooru would be? The best person I can think of is Urbosa, which, uh, makes things difficult. Should've thought that one through, Gan, before your stupid Calamity wrecked teh place! >:|

But anyway, Ganondorf isn't using black magic - Urbosa and Riju have lightning magic, which Gdorf also has in OoT, so honestly it seems very much like the Hyurle Royal Family - they just have a high affinity for it. (also, not gonna lie, Twinrova plays absolutely no part in this storyline because I don't know what to do with those two, honestly)

What Ganondorf does have, though, which is unusual for his people, is healing magic. I thought it would be interesting to give him this gift, it would add another layer to him as a character, especially since he actually cultivated it a little. Here's a snippet from a draft I have tucked away (I have been writing entirely too much for this AU LOL I am gonna have to make a word document to organize it, honestly):

“Here, let me see your hands,” Ganondorf said, pushing Link away enough to gently grab at his wrists. He flipped the teenager’s palms up, thumbs brushing against them as Link hissed in pain. His skin was blistered angry red from burns, standing out easily against his all-too-pale, practically grayish complexion, and he knew his face probably was too. Ganondorf swiped at his hands again with his thumbs, and Link felt a tingling, warm sensation on them. The pain numbed into nothingness, and he glanced down, confused. The burns were gone. “How—you know healing magic?” He whispered, looking up at the man. “Is it the stone?” Ganondorf smiled a little, brushing hair out of his face to examine a burn on his nose. “Secret stones only amplify one’s power, Link. Of course I know healing magic. You thought I didn’t?” Link hesitated a moment before just saying what was on his mind, looking down and muttering, “I thought all you knew how to do was destroy.” “One has to burn the forest to make way for new growth,” Ganondorf replied simply, easily, as if it were just like gardening, as if people’s lives weren’t at stake. “A good king must know how to rebuild as well as how to destroy.” “You’re just full of idioms, aren’t you?” Link sighed. It was almost funny, having this conversation. Almost. “Because I’m right,” Ganondorf said firmly. “Nabooru and Hemisi didn’t seem to think so.”

#you ask skye answers #lovely anon #hero of shadow #totk #ganondorf #I love making them talk haha

[fruitcoops]

I have a request. :) What if coops were watching a scary movie together and Sirius is getting actually scared so he is just trying not to watch and cuddle into Remus instead. But he is too embarrassed to ask Remus to turn it off so he just tries to suffer through it. You can decide if you want Remus to notice and turn it off and comfort him or not. Thank you for all of your amazing writing!

This is such a cute ask, and lots of fun to write! Thanks for suggesting it <3 Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Hattie is mine!

TW for mentioned blood and gore (in the movie) and general fear

“That’s a lot of blood,” Remus remarked.

Personally, Sirius thought that was a bit of an understatement considering the gorefest happening on the screen, but he had been terrified into silence twenty minutes before and simply nodded in response.

The shrieking, wailing, and rending of various body parts continued. Hattie whined and buried her nose further into the small of his back. Smart girl, Sirius thought, cuddling just slightly closer to Remus’ side. The horror movie had been a last-minute, pick something or we’ll both be frustrated decision—now, an hour into the worst television experience of his life, he regretted every choice he had made that led them to this spot.

He turned to place a kiss just below Remus’ ear. If it also served to hide his face from the literal demonic entity that just popped out of nowhere…well, that was nobody’s business but his own. “Hey, I’m kinda tired,” he mumbled, though every nerve was alight with fear and he wasn’t sure his eyelids would ever shut again.

“Oh?” Remus kept his gaze on the screen. I love you, but you confuse and terrify me.

“Mhmm. How much is left?”

Remus picked up the remote; half a second before he paused, one of the lead characters got fucking stabbed in the back by something that had not been there mere moments earlier. Sirius jolted, stifling a shout of surprise. Remus remained absolutely still. “Whew, that was a good one,” he said mildly as Sirius struggled to regain control of his stuttering heartbeat. “Just under fifty minutes left.”

Why am I doing this? Sirius wondered internally. I have nothing to prove.

“The effects are pretty impressive, huh?”

Sirius hummed vague assent.

“No CGI or anything. Pretty cool.”

“No, yeah, definitely.”

Bones weren’t supposed to do that. Kids certainly weren’t supposed to bend like that. Sirius’ mouth was drier than desert sand and he gave up on dignity, squishing himself as close as possible under the safe haven of Remus’ arm. “The, uh—” Remus was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream that froze Sirius from the inside out. He cleared his throat. “The—I heard the director has been trying to make this for ages. It was in the newspaper last week and everything.”

“Was it?” Sirius’ voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Uh-huh.” Please keep talking, please keep talking, please keep talking. “Sorry, I’m probably ruining this for you.”

“No, you’re all good.” You are the only thing keeping me from crawling under the blankets with the dog.

They lapsed back into silence and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut as what was left of the main group turned their backs to the basement. The creepy-ass door was going to open—yep, there’s the creak—and then they were going to go down the rickety staircase, and then everyone was either going to die or be traumatized for life. No matter how formulaic it was, Sirius still felt ice trickle down his spine.

The next forty-five minutes passed at a glacial pace. More blood than Sirius could have imagined spattered the set, and he had stopped trying to follow the plot entirely so he could zone out instead. “Ready for bed?” Remus asked as the credits rolled, sounding entirely unfazed. Hattie crawled into their laps with a soft snuffle. “Oh, lovey, were you scared?”

Yes. “Poor thing,” Sirius cooed with as much control as he could muster, lifting her up to hide his shaky arms. Remus ducked into the kitchen to put away the popcorn bowl; as soon as he was out of earshot, Sirius leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You and me both, ma petite. You’re sleeping on the bed with us tonight.”

“What?” Remus called from the kitchen.

“Oh, nothing.” He set Hattie down. “I’ll be upstairs when you’re done.”

Sirius made it to the base of the staircase, then paused. The hallway at the top was dark; fear prickled the back of his neck. There’s no such thing as demons, he told himself, grabbing the bannister. His palms were sweating. Nothing to be afraid of. “Honey?”

“Merde!” he yelped, letting go as if it had burned him.

Remus gave him a look of alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” He flailed a hand around, pulse pounding in his throat. “Just thought I saw a spider. Startled me.”

“…alright.”

He turned the lights on as soon as they reached the landing. Sirius had never been so grateful for the power of modern electricity. The hall was just as they had left it, looking ridiculously normal and unthreatening—embarrassment reddened his cheeks as he changed into his pajamas. Scared of your own house? Really?

Well, that wasn’t quite true—he wasn’t scared of the house itself, just the murderous entities that may or may not be living in the dryer vents. That was all.

He was feeling better until Remus turned the lights off and slipped into bed beside him, leaning over for a ‘goodnight’ kiss. “Sleep well, baby,” he said, resting his temple on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Love you.”

The trees swaying outside looked like long, bony fingers; if he concentrated, he could hear low weeping in the wind. Sirius felt an irrational fear rise when he tried to close his eyes and focus on Remus’ slow breaths—what if he woke up and there was something in the doorway? What if he had nightmares? What if his fear wasn’t irrational at all, and there was an omen he was missing—

“Sirius?”

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

Remus hesitated, then exhaled through his nose. “Can we turn the light on?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Sirius said around a sigh of relief. “Yes. Also, please never suggest a horror movie ever again.”

“I hate them,” Remus confessed as they sat up. “I saw a commercial for The Conjuring in seventh grade and had nightmares for two full months.”

“Why did you recommend it?”

“I thought you liked them!”

“I was about to hide under the couch!” Sirius laughed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Mon dieu, that was the w—holy shit!”

The fuzzy thing under his foot made a high-pitched noise and moved; Sirius scrambled back with a strangled shout, nearly toppling them both over the other side. Remus clung to him as they both shrieked in sheer panic until the only sound was their heavy breathing. The shadow by the edge of the bed shifted again, then whined.

Sirius groaned, releasing his death grip. “Really, Hat Trick?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Viens ici.” He patted the side of the bed and the blob of inky black hopped up, then settled at the foot of the bed with an indignant huff. “Did I step on you?”

Hattie grumbled and stretched her long body across the mattress. Remus turned the bedside lamp on, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “Well, that was mortifying.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, but I don’t really want to go back downstairs.”

Remus laid on his back and held out his arms. “Cuddles?”

“You read my mind.”

They snuggled up to each other as tight as they could, leaving only a sliver of space between their bodies as Hattie warmed their feet. Sirius kissed the top of Remus’ head once before closing his eyes once more; they laid in silence for a moment longer, then let out twin sighs as he pulled the covers all the way up to their necks to create a cocoon of warmth and safety. The soft glow of the lamp chased away the shadows, and within a few minutes he fell into a dreamless sleep.

#fanfic #my fic #sirius black #remus lupin #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coops #wolfstar #scary movie #horror #hattie

[ayamturd]

promises│nihachu

summary: in any given situation or matter, promises are sacred in any relationship one should hold. 

prompt: “Promise you won’t let go?” “I promise.”

warnings: fluff and major angst, death and warfare descriptions, slight dsmp spoilers

pairing: in-game romantic!nihachu

a/n: this is my entry for @quackisinnit’s 1k writing event!! huge congratulatory once again for their achievement and amazing writing (go read their stuff, it’s incredible) <3

wc: (1.6k) - m.list

“Y/n! Slow down, will you!” 

You giggled to Niki’s panic and only sped through the tall grass faster. The world was a blur as you pulled her through the empty, dry field. Every branch of wheat tickled your face as they grazed your sides, yet you could care less as you both ran with little care in the world. 

“But how will we get there faster then?” You glanced back at her with an assured smirk without breaking your pace. Her eyes, while wide with concern, opposed her careless smile. She chuckled loudly at your words, the beautiful sound of her laugher prompting your own as you began climbing a small hill. 

“Only a little further, come on.” Your hand gripped her own gently, and she only squeezed your palm in response. 

As you reached the high ground, you both paused briefly to gather your breaths before you began pulling her again. “I hope this will be worth all the anticipation. You still haven’t told me what you wanted to show me.” 

The line of trees became more evident as you approached them. Entering the forest cautiously, the overhead branches shielded the bright sunlight, only speckles of light breaking through the leaves as they casted over you. 

“Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it.” Niki let out a small whine of your name, jogging slightly to meet your footing. 

The forest became evidently thicker with every stride, the overgrown roots of the trees tripping up Niki’s feet as she couldn’t see as clearly. She began to slow significantly in fear of the unfamiliar environment, the dark trunks, all of various sizes, almost taunting her with the possibility of something jumping out at her. 

While your presence was comforting, she couldn’t hide how naturally scared she was to continue forward. 

Noting her anxiety, you stopped completely to check on her, though her eyes were anywhere but your own; she was surveying the surrounding and the inability to see anything beyond a certain distance.

With a tender touch, you called her name more softly and pulled her face to your own. “We can head back if you’re uncomfortable love, but it’s just past this grove, I swear.” 

Niki relished in your touch and leaned into your hold, the warmth of your palm compelling and inviting against her cheek. She nodded ever so briefly, but you did not want to push her past what she was comfortable with due to your own excitement. 

“Speak with me now, love. I won’t force you if you don’t want to, it’s nothing of greater importance to your feelings.” 

Head still bowed down, Niki opened her eyes while lifting your still clasped hands to her lips. She kissed your knuckles endearingly before raising her head more confidently, your concern for her well being driving her emotionally.

“I’ll be alright, darling, thank you.” You leaned closer to exchange a kiss, a light feathery peck to her plush lips, and rested your forehead against her’s. 

Eyes closed, you merely whispered into her skin, “are you certain? You know I could never fault you if so.” 

Niki pulled away, causing your eyes to open at the lack of contact, and gave you a beautiful grin as reassurance. “I am, y/n, I promise.” 

While you smiled brightly, she paused before turning away, almost embarrassed to ask her next question. “Just… just promise you won’t let go?” 

Your airy chuckle made her head snap up to you, afraid of the connotations it held; however, she instead was met with your brilliant, crinkled eyes. They were intense, full of love and adoration that could make her blush widely from the simple gaze, and spoke more words than you could ever relay. 

Moving your hand to the back of her neck, you slowly bent down to kiss her again. It was more intense than before, the passion you displayed shared as Niki grabbed the wrist you held with while her other hand cupped your cheek securely. 

Eventually, you needed air and forced your lips off her hesitantly. Heavy breaths pervaded the forest landscape, and you both panted from the impenetrable emotions you carried. You held a lopsided grin from the kiss, the tired pull of your lips matching her own. 

“I promise, darling. I’ll always have you.”

“Y/n!” 

The sky was dark, fire raging from below and engulfing the space completely. Destruction rained down in the aftermath of the battle, ash and debris scattered everywhere. The smoke was blinding, the stinging film it produced bringing tears to the eyes of all while tainting the air, making it hard to breath or move within the encapsulated scenery. 

It was ringing. The silence was almost deafening after the deathly explosions and sounds that imploded moments before. One could barely hear themself think from the loud buzz or harsh stillness, the contrast more painful to the noise when originally casted in face of what was left to scrape and reforge. 

“Y/n, hold on!” 

Those injured or lost were left casted amongst the destruction of the once beautiful, vast land. Nothing could be said to the devastation that laid waste around them, yet the heartache most suffered was excruciating to the failure of a promise their home once carried. 

While some had fled or currently carried themselves strong against the opposing, ‘god-like’ force that demanded for blood, two loves were still fighting for the purpose of staying together. 

“Y/n! I have you, I have you, ju一 just hang on!” 

Niki’s face was stained with dirt and grime, yet it did nothing to hide the pain she held in her eyes. She was crying, the smoke in her eyes, while harsh and searing, incomparable to the agony she felt while holding you. 

“Niki, I’m so scared.” 

You were hanging over a massive crater, your feet danglingly helplessly in the open air as the wind pulled at your weight. Niki gripped your arm with her entire being, the wounds she had meaning nothing to the turmoil of emotions that raged at the sight of seeing you scared beyond admission. 

Her expression was determined, despite the tear stains that marked her face so vastly to the filth that stained her cheeks. She grunted, loosing her footing momentarily before pulling you slightly up again. In spite of all her efforts, she was too weak and exhausted from the fighting beforehand, body unable to carry the same passion she emulated in thought. 

“Niki.” Her eyes were tight from her current endeavor, and she shook her head at your voice. 

“It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay, we’re going to be okay.” Her hands were shaking from your weight, yet she refused to break her grip.

“Niki, please look at me.” Blinking roughly to rid the salty tears, Niki let out a sob from meeting your own tears as well. You were in immense pain, and the fear that overtook was numbing to the point that you couldn’t put up a front any longer. 

“I love you, Niki. I love you so much.” With a shake of her head, more tears ran down her face from the revelation. She pulled harder on your arm. 

“Don’t do that, don’t say it like that.” You tried to smile and bring her comfort from the situation, but in truth you were too drained; the smile you tried for was only an empty shell to the joy it once held. 

“Niki, it’s alright, its o一”

Suddenly, more explosions shattered the still landscape once more. The war was not over and the crack of the already broken terrain collapse further beneath itself. 

Dust clouded your vision and the panic was overwhelming, causing you to speak without thought relative to the reality you both faced.

“Niki, don’t let go, please, promise you won’t let go!” Your words were rushed and incomprehensible. Eyes wild in terror and dread, the cries that escaped you were strained and smothered over the erupting ground around you. 

Niki yelled as loud as she could against the explosions trapping you both, anguished by the matter of fact. “Yes! Yes, Y/n! I have you, I pro一“

Before the vow in vain could be voiced, a new rain of explosions were set barely a few feet behind Niki, and the earth shook violently from impact. She yelped from the unexpected attack and lost her concentration and stability, thrown back, hard, into a sunken ditch. 

Explosion after explosion followed, and she was forced to hold her head in instinct until the silence rang out once more. With a gasp, she struggled to her feet and pathetically climbed her way over the small hill, the littered waste and scrap metal tripping her in her moment of desperation. 

She fell against the edge of the hollow shaft, a look of shock in disbelief before the horror sunk in. “No…”

“No, no, no no no…” She began to mumble to herself until her words became louder. Sinking to her knees at the realization, she released a broken and cracked cry. While sound was muffled to the damage within her ears and her sight was obscured by her teary eyes, the pain and heartbreak she felt was everything and the only thing she recognized then and there.

She cried and she cried, and no matter how much it hurt, she could never stop from the pain that would consume her without her new found sorrow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Slowly, she laid her head against the ground and clenched her eyes shut, gripping her fists close into herself for she no longer had someone to hold her safe. 

“I’m so sorry.”

#nihachu x reader #nihachu x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you

[ladyblogger-margie]

Traitor

Pairing: Mobius M Mobius x Loki (MCU)

Summary: The Loki Variants are captured and Mobius battles his personal versus professional feelings. 

Warnings: Mentions of bondage kind of?? A little angsty

Word Count: 1788

a/n: thanks to this post by @pietro-maximoff I have been listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo and thinking about Lokius non-stop. This fic is what came out of that obsessing. Also I wrote it before Episode 3 aired. 

MY MASTERLIST

Mobius heard the alarms blaring and didn’t flinch. It had been set off so many times lately, it had lost all impact. This time though, Casey came flying through the halls of the TVA and skidded to an abrupt halt next to Mobius’ cubicle. 

“We found him,” Casey panted. 

“Who?” Mobius asked, fearful to get his hopes up. 

“The Loki variant,” Casey explained, his hands on his knees. 

“You may need to be more specific, there are several,” Mobius said, as he stood and led Casey back where he came from. 

“The variant, your variant,” Casey said, jogging to keep up. 

Casey’s words rang in Mobius’ brain. Apparently everyone could see how he felt about Loki, well except Loki. If Loki knew, he wouldn’t have ran off, or at least Mobius desperately hoped that was the case. The alternative was too gut wrenching to consider with everything else going to shit. 

Mobius had called out for Loki, begging him not to leave, but he went through the door anyway leaving Mobius behind. Loki had looked at him, but gave him nothing but an empty glance before he turned his back and ran to join the Loki Variant they were supposed to be chasing together. 

Now Casey was explaining how both Loki’s were now surrounded and Mobius needed to get there immediately. He was trying to keep his focus professional and stuff down the longing rising in his chest, a longing that would not do him a single lick of good. 

Suddenly Mobius turned a corner and saw the Hunters in position by the Time Door. He didn’t slow down as he gestured for them to breach the door and he was right in their midst as they arrived on the scene. 

Lady Loki sat with her eyes rolling tied up and contained, clearly annoyed, bored, as well as plotting. Mobius knew Loki well enough to know that she wasn’t truly as subdued as she appeared on the surface. The other Loki, the one in the TVA Variant jacket, was looking extremely put out with a collar back around his slender throat and his wrists in cuffs. 

Mobius banished his first thought in favor of the professional thoughts that followed. 

“We’ve apprehended the variants. Let’s reset this one here first,” he said, pointing to Lady Loki. 

The other Loki was desperately trying to make eye contact with Mobius, but Mobius turned his back to him. 

This was his first mistake. Loki slipped in behind him so close that Mobius felt that taller man’s breath against his neck and he suppressed a shiver. 

“I did it, I captured the Variant,” Loki bragged, his tone smug, “But these fools arrested me in the process of turning her into the proper authorities.”

Mobius caught the indignation in Loki’s voice at the second part and tried not to let it affect him. He was fooled before and he would not be fooled again. 

“Reset her, bring this one back to headquarters,” Mobius said, still ignoring Loki, “Someone’s going to have to question him to complete the paperwork.”

Then Mobius retreated with the team completing the Variant reset, leaving a stammering Loki behind him.

“Mobius, where are you going?” Loki asked, “Mobius?”

Mobius ignored him. 

After they successfully solved the Lady Loki Variant problem, Mobius returned to headquarters. He wasn’t told exactly where they had taken Loki, but he had a hunch, and until recently his hunches usually proved correct. 

He found Loki in the same room he had shown Loki his role on the timeline when they first met. There Loki was heavily guarded and they had added a gag to his collection of restraints since Mobius saw him last. 

“You can all go,” Mobius said, waving the hunters away, “I can handle him.”

Mobius shook the control to Loki’s collar in his hand and with minimal muttering, the Hunters filed out. 

Mobius sat in a chair across the table from Loki and just looked at him. He watched as Loki squirmed and tried to speak. He watched the frustrating boil over on Loki’s face and felt guilty for watching him suffer. He thought he’d enjoy catching Loki out, but he was wrong. The image in front of him made him sick. 

Mobius reached across the table and gently removed the gag from Loki’s mouth. He’d barely sprung the release when Loki began talking rapidly.

“Mobius, you have to understand,” Loki’s fast tongue clipped, “I had to go. I needed to catch the Variant. That was the plan, was it not? Use a Loki to catch a Loki.”

Mobius bit the inside of his lip, pouting them slightly as he did so, but he kept quiet. 

“I know what you must be thinking, but technically I didn’t stab you in the back,” Loki said, attempting a joke. 

Mobius remained silent and to his surprise he found it was making Loki look, well, nervous. 

“You don’t think I left you on purpose?” Loki asked, “Why would I do that?”

Loki’s face looked so open, so vulnerable in its proposed sincerity, Mobius was almost moved. He promised to himself he wasn’t buying the trickster’s words, but unconsciously he stood and removed the rest of Loki’s restraints except the collar around his neck. 

“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice soft with emotion and Mobius' heart clenched. Being in close proximity with him again had Mobius on edge, so aware of his own body and Loki’s as well. 

“What happened when you went through the door?” Mobius asked in a professional tone. 

“I heard you calling,” Loki said, standing to stroll the room. 

“I’m aware,” Mobius sighed, “You looked right at me.”

“Well I thought that meant you understood,” Loki said, his arms open wide, head cocked to the side. 

“Understood what? That you’re a traitor? You betrayed me,” Mobius said. He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to air his personal issues, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with a Variant, especially a Loki whose betrayal surely was inevitable. “I’m here to assess and record what happened after you walked out,” he said, pushing forward with his assignment. 

“I didn’t betray you, I swear. Besides, isn’t paperwork and cleanup a bit beneath your pay grade? There’s got to be more to you being here than just the job,” Loki suggested with a raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t trust you with anyone else,” Mobius admitted plainly. He didn’t trust himself with Loki either, but that wasn’t the point. 

“I didn’t leave you, Mobius,” Loki said, sitting back down. He reached his hands across the table to where Mobius’ were resting. 

Mobius ripped his hands out of the way and stood himself, taking up Loki’s pacing position. 

“I trusted you to see this through,” Mobius said, barely containing the tremble in his voice. 

“But that’s just it!” Loki said, following Mobius and completely disregarding his personal space, “I did! I caught the Variant.”

Mobius studied his face, “You were captured with the Variant.”

“No!” Loki was frustrated now, his hands in his hair, “Those imbeciles showed up after I had her in custody because I was trying to call you.”

Mobius was blinking very quickly now, “But you left me, I saw you look at me and deliberately choose to abandon the team and the mission. Loki, I am trying to get to the truth here and I know that’s a foreign concept-“

Mobius was cut off mid-sentence when Loki crashed his lips against his, kissing him and shutting him up in one fell swoop. The action short-circuited Mobius' brain and he stood frozen, his lips responding on instinct alone. 

Loki tasted like honey and peppermint, sweet and sharp and a little bitter, but absolutely perfect. Mobius raised a hand to Loki’s throat and in horror remembered he was still wearing his collar. 

Mobius shoved Loki away abruptly. It wasn’t easy to shove a god, but the advantage of surprise  granted him the space he needed. 

“You really think you can play me,” Mobius said with a sad chuckle. He had to drop this idiotic fantasy - Loki could never love him the way that Mobius loved him. 

“Play you? I’m trying to kiss you,” Loki said, his tone sharp. 

“You’re trying to get me to take off that collar,” Mobius said with a limp gesture of his hand. 

Loki’s fingers brushed across the collar almost like he forgot he was wearing it. 

“So take it off and see how I act then,” Loki suggested. 

Mobius actually laughed, “How thick do you think I am? I know you don’t respect me, but give me a little credit.”

“Of course I respect you, I care for you,” Loki sighed, “You’ve caught me many times before, I have no magic, and your team already confiscated my daggers, what have you got to lose?”

Loki watched Mobius with his head tilted, as Mobius squinted at him intently. 

Mobius released Loki’s collar with a press of the button on the controller. Loki tossed it aside casually and he made no effort to run. Instead he moved closer to Mobius, crowding his space. Mobius held his breath as Loki inspected him intently, his crystal blue eyes tracing across Mobius’ face. 

Mobius’ breath hitched as Loki kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. He felt his skin catch fire as Loki traced his thumb across his check as his tongue swept across his lower lip. Then Mobius’ resolve shattered. 

Mobius yanked on Loki’s tie, wrapping it around his fist as his other hand wrapped around Loki’s waist. Mobius could feel the smile on Loki’s lips through the kiss and he couldn’t help but smile back. Loki’s hands were soft and cool and Mobius relished in the feel of them, still not entirely sure if he believed his good fortune, but too overwhelmed to care. 

Suddenly the door to the room opened and Casey walked in, interrupting the kiss. Mobius flushed and jumped back in surprise, his hand still wrapped in Loki’s tie.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to - wait, what’s happening?” Casey said, obviously flustered. 

“What can I help you with?” Mobius asked. 

“There’s a new variant we need your help with,” Casey said, “After you reset this variant, there’s a file at your desk.”

Mobius turned to Loki and held his hand, “He’s not a variant, he’s a member of the TVA.”

Loki’s face lit up as Casey left with a shrug. 

Mobius turned to Loki, and fixed his tie and collar as Loki smiled at him. 

“I swear I wasn’t leaving you, I’d never do that to someone I love,” Loki said sincerely, and Mobius believed him so he kissed him, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. 

#lokius #mobius x loki #loki x mobius #loki series #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #I care about these two A WHOLE LOT

[dweetwise]

i’ve been kinda quiet while finishing a project over on ao3, but now i’m back with some riconti to share <3

ship: felix x ace (only implied; can be read as platonic if you wish!)

word count: 1640

Someone to Lean On

"—and I thought for sure she wouldn't pick me up! I ran straight into her after being unhooked, but she didn’t even hesitate calling my bluff. Well played, Spirit!"

Felix kept half-listening as Ace rambled on about their latest trial. They were walking back to the campfire together through the fog, having both been sacrificed by the ruthless katana-wielding killer.

It wasn't uncommon for Ace to wait around for him in the plane of nothingness if he didn't survive the trial. Felix had lost count of how many times he'd regained consciousness only to see the familiar, smiling figure calling over to him through the fog.

He wondered if Ace knew how much he appreciated the gesture. The gambler’s friendly banter was always a welcome distraction from the harrowing experience of having every fiber of his being torn to shreds and consequently be reassembled.

But this time was different. Felix could barely make out Ace's words, his own thoughts sounding deafening inside his head despite the silence of the fog. His body didn't feel like his own; it was like the Entity's claws were still twisting and turning around his insides. 

Felix’s feet dragged behind him and when they eventually came to a stop, Ace stopped right with him and patiently waited for their journey to continue. Only once Felix made no move to do so did the Argentine’s brilliant smile falter from uncertainty. 

"Felix?" Ace asked.

"I can't do it," Felix said.

According to people back at the campfire, it had been over a year since Felix was taken into this horrible realm. It felt even longer than that; with nothing in this world but means to make them suffer, Felix was starting to forget the things he used to enjoy.

"Sure you can, champ!" Ace grinned.

Felix knew Ace was trying to be encouraging. He knew he should go back to his play-act, should plaster on a fake smile and brush off his struggles as nothing more than a bad trial, like he’d done countless times before.

But he couldn’t.

"No," Felix said, a surprising determination in his voice. "You don't understand."

“What do you mean?” Ace asked.

Felix wasn’t sure how to describe it. The more he thought about this world and the absolute wrongness of it, the harder it was to pinpoint its exact cause.

He felt lightheaded and almost delirious. It was like he was in a dream; a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. Nothing in this place made sense, yet all this time he had accepted it as truth. What if it was all a figment of his imagination?

"Is any of this real?" Felix asked.

Ace’s smile made way for a confused frown, and his expression was the only thing in their surroundings that looked lifelike. The unnatural fog surrounding them felt neither damp nor cold, the unending darkness somehow allowed them to see perfectly, and even though there was nothing to guide them they still knew exactly which way to go.

Felix felt his breathing pick up as he only now seemed to realize the vast emptiness of nothing they were standing in. He’d been here countless times before but never fully aware of it, and his heart was racing as he frantically looked around, feeling the terror rising in his chest—

Until a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. 

"Hey, deep breaths," Ace said, turning Felix to face him.

The touch helped to ground him and the panic started to fade as Felix looked into familiar brown eyes. Ace felt real, but how could he be sure?

"It doesn't make any sense," Felix said. "The Entity doesn’t exist. It simply can’t."

Ace said nothing. Whether he was giving Felix space to speak or thought he’d finally lost his mind, Felix didn’t know.

"What if this is just a nightmare? What if I'm going crazy—having some sort of episode from work stress, and I'm really hospitalized in an institution?" Felix said, his frantic eyes finding Ace's. "What if I'm in a coma, or—or I died, and this is all my brain shutting down? What if this isn't real?"

Felix realized he was shaking. Ace looked at him silently; like he was pondering what to say. Felix didn’t think he’d ever seen him look so serious.

Abruptly, the embarrassment hit. Felix broke eye contact and stepped back. Even if he was losing it, he didn't need to drag Ace into this—

"So what?" Ace asked.

"What?"

"If you wake up in a hospital tomorrow and realize none of this was real, what does it matter?" Ace said. "It's not gonna change that this feels real."

Felix was silent, mulling over the words.

"I think that, sometimes, it's best to just take things at face value," Ace continued. "Fucked-up things like the Entity exist? Alright. One of them yoinked us into its world for fun? Sure. Whether we like it or not, right now we're stuck here—might as well try to make the most of it."

"Don't you want answers?" Felix asked.

"What I want is to get the hell out of here," Ace huffed dryly.

Felix couldn’t remember Ace ever talking about an escape before. The gambler had always seemed surprisingly well-adjusted to their predicament, but he should have known that even the most optimistic person would be eager for the chance to find a way out of this nightmare.

"But since that's not on the table, I'll take the next best thing of living to see another day," Ace said. "And if I wake up in a real bed tomorrow and it was all a dream? Even better."

"Have you never thought about it? That this could just be a product of your mind?" Felix asked.

"Briefly, yeah," Ace said. Then he smiled. "But then I remembered how shit my imagination is. No way I would've been able to come up with something like this."

Felix huffed out a dry chuckle despite the situation.

"But it's probably easier for me," Ace said. "I know you tend to overthink things. And with the kind of year you've had? I'm kinda surprised you've adjusted so well."

Felix hadn’t thought about it that way. After the numerous panic attacks and freezing from fear in his first trials, Felix never considered himself particularly well-adjusted to his new existence. He owed most of his meager success to the people around him, always there to lend a hand and pull Felix up when he wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

And most of the time, that person had been Ace.

"I had some help," Felix said, offering a hesitant smile.

"Ah, true—almost forgot about Élodie," Ace grinned. "Must be nice, having a friend like that in a place like this."

Felix didn't have the heart to correct the assumption. Having the familiar face of a childhood friend among their teammates had no doubt been beneficial for both Felix and Élodie while they learned to survive this new world.

But it wasn't Élodie who had been by Felix's side those first months. It wasn’t her encouraging words that got through to Felix when he felt paralyzed from inaction, or her who took the time to involve him in the group when Felix was too lost in his own head to participate.

"It really makes a world of difference, having a good friend," Felix said.

Ace kept looking at him, until his face spread into a bright smile at the realization.

"Well, in that case, can I offer you some friendly advice?" Ace asked.

"Of course," Felix agreed.

"Don't get too wrapped up in the 'how's and 'why's," Ace said. "It's just gonna consume you. And…"

Felix waited as Ace paused in an unusual gesture of uncertainty.

"I'd hate to lose you," Ace said.

He was still smiling pleasantly, but his eyes betrayed his real emotion; it was the first time Felix had seen genuine fear in Ace's eyes. And it wasn't from a brutal mori or the hopelessness that they might never escape.

It was from the possibility of losing Felix.

"Alright," Felix said. "I'll try."

"It's a start," Ace said, his demeanor back to the usual playfulness. "You ready to head back?"

Felix realized he felt much calmer now than only minutes prior. There was still an uneasiness in the back of his mind due to the unspeakable horrors that haunted them on a daily basis, but he felt grounded. This wasn't just about him; no matter whether it aligned with the objective truth, this was their reality.

"I think so, yes," Felix said.

"'Atta boy," Ace said. 

Ace's hand left his shoulder, and Felix immediately missed its warmth. The moment of camaraderie they had shared was exactly what he had needed. Even Ace seemed more at ease, his smile relaxed as he fell into step beside Felix.

"By the way," Ace said conversationally. "If this is all in your head, could I request you make it a little… I don't know, less guts and gore, more flowers and booze?"

Felix chuckled. "I can try."

"Oh, and while you're at it, can you give me one of those makeovers?" Ace said. "Make me like ten years younger? I think I’d look great in brown hair—ooh, and a six pack too!"

Felix listened to Ace ramble with a smile. It would never cease to amaze him how the seemingly lighthearted man could go from joking to serious and right back to silly banter in just a few short moments. Ace was like a bolt of lightning; chaotic in nature and gone in the blink of an eye, but always managing to calm the storm in Felix’s head.

"Ace?" Felix asked, interrupting Ace still talking about his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Felix said.

Ace’s smile flashed bright and warm in the darkness surrounding them.

"Anytime."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

[kaile-hultner]

Nihilism is so easy, which is why we need to kill it

(I initially published this here a couple weeks ago.)

So last night it dawned on me that, after over two years of being relatively symptom-free, my depression snuck back up on me and has taken over. It’s still pretty mild in comparison to other times I’ve been stuck in the hole, but after 24 months (and more) of mostly being good to go, I can tell that it’s here for a hot minute again.

How do I know? Well, it might be the fact that I spent more time sleeping during my recent vacation from work than I did just about anything else, and how it’s suddenly really hard for me to stay awake during work hours. I don’t really have an appetite, and in fact nausea hits me frequently. I don’t really have any emotional reactions to things outside of tears, even when tears aren’t super appropriate to the situation (like watching someone play Outer Wilds for the first time). And I’ve been consuming a lot of apocalyptic media, to which the only response, emotional or otherwise, I can really muster is “dude same.”

For a long time I was huge into absurdist philosophy, because it felt to my depressed brain like just the right balance between straight up denying that things are bad (and thus we should fix them, or at least try to do so) and full-blown nihilism. This gives absurdism a lot of credit; mostly it’s just a loose set of spicy existentialist ideas and shit that sounds good on a sticker, like “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

In the last couple years, while outside of my depressive state, I went back to Camus’ work and found a lot of almost full-on abusive shit in it. Not toward anyone specifically, but shit like “nobody and nothing will care if you’re gone, so live out of spite of them all” rubs me the wrong way in retrospect. The philosophy Camus puts out opens the door for living in a very self-destructive fashion; that in fact the good life is living without care for yourself or anyone/anything else. The way Camus describes and derides suicide especially is grim as fuck, and certainly I would never recommend The Myth of Sisyphus to anyone currently struggling with ideation. That “perfect balance” between denial and nihilism is really not that perfect at all, and in fact skews much more heavily towards the latter.

Neon Genesis Evangelion has been a big albatross around my neck in terms of the media products I’ve consumed in my life that I believe have influenced my depression hardcore. It sits in a similar conversational space to Camus’ work, in that it confronts nihilism and at once rejects and facilitates it. A lot of folks remark that Evangelion is pretty unique – or at least uncommon – in its accurate portrayal of depression, especially for mid-90s anime properties. The thing I notice always seems to be missing in these discussions is that along with that accurate portrayal comes a spot-on – to me, at least – depiction of what depression does to resist being treated. This is a disease that uses a person’s rational faculties to suggest that nobody else could possibly understand their pain, and therefore there’s no use in getting better or moving forward. Shinji Ikari is as self-centered as Hideaki Anno is as I am when it comes to confronting the truth: there are paths out of this hole, but nobody else can take that step out but us, and part of our illness is that refusal to do just that. Depression lies, it provides a cold comfort to the sufferer, that there is no existence other than the one where we are in pain and there is no way out, so pull the blanket up over our head and go back to sleep.

Watching Evangelion for the first time corresponded with the onset of one of the worst depressive spirals I’ve ever been in, and so, much like the time I got a stomach virus at the same time that I ate Arby’s curly fries, I kind of can’t associate Evangelion with anything else. No matter what else it might signify, no matter what other meaning there is to derive from it, for me Eva is the Bad Feeling Anime™. Which is why, naturally, I had to binge all four of the Evangelion theatrical releases upon the release of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon A Time last month.

If Neon Genesis Evangelion and End of Evangelion are works produced by someone with untreated depression just fucking rawdogging existence, then the Eva movies are works produced by someone who has gone to therapy even just one fucking time. Whether that therapy is working or not is to be determined, but they have taken that step out of the hole and are able to believe that there is a possibility of living a depression-free life. The first 40 minutes or so of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 are perfect cinema to me. The world is destroyed but there is a way to bring it back. Restoration and existence is possible even when the surface of the planet might as well be the surface of the Moon. The only thing about this is, everyone has to be on board to help. Even though WILLE fired one of its special de-corefication devices into the ground to give the residents of Village 3 a chance at survival, the maintenance of this pocket ecosystem is actively their responsibility. There is no room or time for people who won’t actively contribute, won’t actively participate in making a better world from the ashes of the old.

There are a lot of essentialist claims and assumptions made by the film in this first act about how the body interacts with the social – the concept of disability itself just doesn’t seem to have made it into the ring of safety provided by Misato and the Wunder, which seems frankly wild to me, and women are almost singularly portrayed in traditionalist support roles while men are the doers and the fixers and the makers. I think it’s worth raising a skeptical eyebrow at this trad conservative “back to old ways” expression of the post-apocalypse wherever it comes up, just as it’s important to acknowledge where the movie pushes back on these themes, like when Toji (or possibly Kensuke) is telling Shinji that, despite all the hard work everyone is doing like farming and building, the village is far from self-sufficient and will likely always rely on provisions from the Wunder.

As idyllic as the setting is, it’s not the ideal. As Shinji emerges from his catatonia, Kensuke takes him around the village perimeter. It’s quiet, rural Japan as far as the eye can see, but everywhere there are contingencies; rationing means Kensuke can only catch one fish a week, all the entry points where flowing water comes into the radius of the de-corefication devices have to be checked for blockages because the water supply will run out. There is a looming possibility that the de-corefication machines could break or shut down at some point, and nobody knows what will happen when that happens. On the perimeter, lumbering, pilot-less and headless Eva units shuffle around; it is unknown whether they’re horrors endlessly biding their time or simply ghosts looking to reconnect to the ember of humanity on the other side of the wall. Survival is always an open question, and mutual aid is the expectation. Still: the apocalypse happened, and we’re still here. The question Village 3 answers is “what now?” We move on, we adapt.

Evangelion is still a work that does its level best to defy easy interpretation, but the modern version of the franchise has largely abandoned the nihilism that was at its core in the 90s version. It’s not just that Shinji no longer denies the world until the last possible second – it’s that he frequently actively reaches out and is frustrated by other people’s denials. He wants to connect, he wants to be social, but he’s also burdened with the idea that he’s only good to others if he’s useful, and he’s only useful if he pilots the Eva unit. This last movie separates him and what he is worth to others (and himself) from his agency in being an Eva pilot, finally. In doing so, he’s able to reconcile with nearly everyone in his life who he has harmed or who has hurt him, and create a world in which there is no Evangelion. While this ending is much more wishful thinking than one more grounded in the reality of the franchise – one that, say, focuses on the existence and possible flourishing of Village 3 and other settlements like it while keeping one eye on the precarious balancing act they’re all playing – it feels better than the ending of End of Eva, and even than the last two episodes of the original series.

I’m glad the nihilism in Evangelion is gone, for the most part. I’m glad that I didn’t spend roughly eight hours watching the Evamovies only to be met yet again with a message of “everything is pointless, fuck off and die.” Because I’ve been absorbing that sentiment a lot lately, from a lot of different sources, and it really just fuckin sucks to hear over and over again.

It is a truth we can’t easily ignore that the confluence of pandemic, climate change, authoritarian surge and capitalist decay has made shit miserable recently. But the spike in lamentations over the intractability of this mix of shit – the inevitability of our destruction, to put it in simpler terms – really is pissing me off. No one person is going to fix the world, that much is absolutely true, but if everyone just goes limp and decides to “123 not it” the apocalypse then everyone crying about how the world is fucked on Twitter will simply be adding to the opening bars of a self-fulfilling prophesy.

We can’t get in a mech to save the world but then, neither realistically could Shinji Ikari. What we can do looks a lot more like what’s being done in Village 3: people helping each other with limited resources wherever they can.

Last week, Hurricane Ida slammed into the Gulf Coast and churned there for hours – decimating Bayou communities in Louisiana and disrupting the supply chain extensively – before powering down and moving inland. Last night the powerful remnants of that storm tore through the Northeast, causing intense flooding. Areas not typically affected by hurricanes suddenly found themselves in a similar boat – pun not intended – to folks for whom hurricanes are simply a fact of life. There’s a once-in-a-millennium drought and heatwave ripping through the West Coast and hey – who can forget back in February when Oklahoma and Texas experienced -20 degree temperatures for several days in a row? All of this against the backdrop of a deadly and terrifying pandemic and worsening political climate. It’s genuinely scary! But there are things we can do.

First, if you’re in a weather disaster-prone area, get to know your local mutual aid organizations. Some of these groups might be official non-profits; one such group in the Louisiana area, for example, is Common Ground Relief. Check their social media accounts for updates on what to do and who needs help. If you’re not sure if there’s one in your area, check out groups like Mutual Aid Disaster Relief for that same information. Even if you’re not in a place that expects to see the immediate effects of climate change, you should still consider linking up with organizing groups in your area. Tenant unions, homeless organizations, safe injection sites and needle exchanges, immigrant rights groups, environmental activist orgs, reproductive health groups – all could use some help right now, in whatever capacity you might be able to provide it.

In none of these scenarios are we going to be the heroes of the story, and we shouldn’t view this kind of work in that way. But neither should we give into the nihilistic impulse to insist upon doing nothing, insist that inaction is the best course of action, and get back under the blankets for our final sleep. Kill that impulse in your head, and fuck, if you have to, simply just fucking wish for that better world. Then get out of bed and help make it happen.

#Neon Genesis Evangelion #existentialism #philosophy #media criticism #cultural criticism #spoilers

[crimsonwolfie]

“You’re my night light” — Alina Starkov x Reader

⇾ Prompt: You (the reader) often suffer with nightmares from your encounter in the fold, where you were one of the only few who survived and struggle when night falls. Alina is, so to speak, your light in that darkness.

⇾ Word count: 1.9k

⇾ masterlist

⇾ Warnings: insomnia, anxiety, triggering scenes, ptsd and some really, toothache-ingly sweet fluff :,) — i want to put a reminder here that if anyone is ever struggling with their mental health that my messages are open for you to talk. It’s so important to be good to yourself, even if that means getting help. Talk to your friends, family, be gentle and kind to everyone but above all, yourself. <3

It’s been sixty-two days. Sixty-two days since you thought it was the end. Every time you close your eyes you see people you love being ripped away from you left, right and centre on the skiff. You see those limb-ripping teeth and hear that blood curdling squeal, screams of agony and cries for help followed by. Not a day goes by where you have felt safe and protected from your own mind - it’s like living in a prison cell, no escape, no sanity. You lost a lot of your own that day, people you called your family, and have felt the loneliness ever since. Typically, you’d think an orphan would be used to feeling lonely...but no. Ever since you were taken in and raised in Keramzin, you felt understood, as normal as an orphan could feel.

Shuffling your feet below, you trace your fingers along the edge of the step you’re perched on. The cold, coarse pebbles grate against your fingertips sending a painful, yet gratifying stabbing through your heart. Distant sounds of laughing and muffled shouting can be heard as you crouch deeper into your legs, knees touching your forehead. Everything has a different meaning now; every touch, every smell, every sight and every sound. They’re all signs that remind you that you are still breathing, still here. They used to depress you, paralysing your entire body with guilt until your head was filled with visions of lifeless folk, their eyes dry with death and hands reaching for you. Nothing was helping, nothing but her. Her soul radiated with a fresh innocence, efficacious to anyone who touched it. The person who held your hand when you were scared, when you were excited, even when you were angry. You found yourself filling your head with thoughts of her every time the darkness invaded, every time the memories come back to...

“Hey, y/n”

you open your eyes, looking up to see Alina staring down at you with a sweet smile painted on her face, her hand stretched out rubbing your shoulder. Leaning into her touch, you reply “Hey, you”, placing your hand on hers ever so gently. She giggles slightly as she sits down next to you on the step, shoulders attached to yours. The mellow breeze of the wind runs through your hair, cooling your heated cheeks and letting a breath escape that was stuck in your chest. Alina looks to you with her brown, cocoa eyes. She pulls her jacket tighter, breathing raggedly as the wind picks up. “You alright?” she asks.

“Now I am.” you reply as your lips curl into a smile. Alina returns the gesture as she pulls out a pen and paper. You notice Alina shivering by the clearly-meant-to-be-straight shaky lines she doodles. “How’s Mal doing?” you question whilst getting up to grab a blanket from your bed.

“He’s okay, I think.” she replies, rubbing the paper tenderly, “He’s busy either getting hurt or hurting someone else so”

You walk back over with the blanket in your hands “wait, what?” you answer startled, throwing the blanket over you both and snuggling back next to Alina.

“Yeah, don’t ask” she laughs heartedly, pulling the blanket deeper into her arms and moving closer to you, her body heat warming you as if you’ve been hugged by the sun itself. You feel your heart beating stronger, faster, as she blows on her hands in an attempt to warm them.

“You know, you could use the literal sun to warm you up” you laugh with your cheeks pink and smile radiant. Alina tilts her head with her eyes shut and smirk big, little tussles of hair falling from either side. You can’t help but coo at her adorableness as she brings her hands together, a bright, beautiful ball of golden light appearing in between them. The light illuminates her beautiful, dark orbs and that little scar she has above her left brow. Whenever you look at your best friend, all you can imagine is being able to cup her face in your hands and stroke along her perfectly comely features, telling her how much she...

“You wanna share my light?” She asks, interrupting you of your daydreaming with an entertained grin on her face. You smirk, your cheeks squishing and nose scrunching as you bring your hands to hers. She places her hands in yours, fingers lacing ever so subtly as the warmth spreads through your body.

Ever since you found out about Alina being a sun summoner, you’ve never felt so protective of someone. Everyone was after her at some point, but you made a promise to her - a promise that you would do whatever it takes to protect her, an unbreakable vow. Of course, she wouldn’t ever let you do anything stupid for her, which is why she also, annoyingly, made an unbreakable vow to protect you at all times, knowing the trauma you endured on your last trip on the skiff. You look up at her. Her lids are closed as her lashes curl effortlessly, her face slightly raised up in the air and her lips are curled in a sweet smile whilst the ball in her hands glow an aureate light.  ‘She looks so pure, so at peace’ you think to yourself, feeling luckier than ever to have her.

“Thank you.” you whisper quietly, as you close your eyes, feeling heavier with tiredness every second, the warmth comforting you peacefully. Alina, taken by surprise, looks down to see you leaning on her shoulder, your hair falling in front of your face. She coos at you, leaning her head on yours as she says, “Let’s get you some rest, shall we?”

━━━━━━━━

You’re crouching beneath the deck, hands shaking violently with fear. Harks of echoes surrounded you with screams  and shrieks of terror. Straddling your legs, darkness corners you. It’s a waiting game. Waiting for them to take you, waiting for the end to come. Scanning the scene around you, you try to make out what’s happening, even if the images of what you saw at this moment were imprinted on your mind, never to leave you. Fires broke out from lamps smashing to the ground, illuminating the horrors even more brightly; people were being ripped and dragged all across the deck, blood splatting out from every direction. Grisha were trying to burn, overpower and blow away the monstrous beasts but nothing worked and them, too, were hoisted away wailing into the darkness beyond. Nail marks were carved into the woodwork of the skiff with bits of clothing shreds and blood splatters decorating around them.

Friends of yours lay still on the floor, hands reaching outwards, their eyes open with no life swimming in them. Looking to your right you see Cinzia trying to fight off a volcra on top of her with a rifle, the creature’s nails digging deeply into her sides. You see her squeal in pain, clutching her side with one hand and aiming the rifle with the other, firing right into the volcra’s head. It’s as if everything is in slow motion, as she turns and catches your eye, holding her hand out towards you screaming your name. You spring forwards and grab her hand, trying to drag her to where you were, until she is swiped up into the air by another, larger volcra clutching her waist. You’re still grasping at her hand, your feet off the floor and nothing holding you up but Cinzia’s hand, until she realises what she has to do...

“Let go,” she whimpered as tears fell from her face “it’s okay”. You glare up at her, eyes filling with a sea of tears, your vision blurring. You nod, biting down on your lip to stop it trembling as the light of fires beneath you both light up your faces. “Keep fighting for me” she breathes with a gentle, sympathetic smile to which a heaved breath catches in your throat, more tears running down your face and reply “I will”. And with that, you let go, crashing to the floor.

Tears stream down your horror-stricken face as you scrunch your nose and squint your eyes closed, clambering up against a barrel, bringing your knees to your chest and rocking forwards and back. The hunting noise of the volcra gets closer as your mind wanders to Alina. You find a sense of tranquility as memories, images of Alina ponder your thoughts. Your last thoughts would be of her, and you were okay with that. The wings of the countless volcra surrounding you causes a gust of wind sending broken lanterns flying across the deck along with pieces of paper and empty barrels, fires flickering with each gust. The breeze runs through your hair as you take a deep breath and open your eyes, embracing the probability of your end. Just as you open them, a volcra comes sweeping in front of you, its teeth dripping with blood and pieces of clothing wrapped around its nails. The last thing you remember seeing is its mouth wide open, ready to scavenge your body to pieces until...

“Y/N! Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay I'm here. You’re safe” you awake to see Alina’s face in front of you, furrowed with concern with one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding a ball of light. Her voice is soothing to your ears but riddled with panic. She’s wearing a nightgown with a dressing gown wrapped around her tightly, since she has rushed from her bed to yours. You look around you, realising you’re safe in your bed, covers messily tangled over your legs as your hair sticks to your face, wet with tears. Even from the light shining out of Alina’s hand, it’s still dark around you, but somehow you feel safer with Alina’s presence. “Nightmare’s again?” she whispers, stroking the hair out of your face.

“Ye...yeah” you reply, voice croaked and coated with pain. A sniffle escapes your lips, Alina brings your head into her body with her free hand, resting your head on her chest. “I’m here” she repeats, her heartbeat slowing in a soothing song against your ear, “you’re safe”.

You both sit there like that for what feels like hours, not wanting to move or be anywhere else. In the distance, thunder can be heard along with the faint pitter of rain against the tent’s roof. Alina’s light is still burning bright as the sound of her content breathing pacifies your emotions. “Alina?” you simper, taking your head off her chest to come face to face with her.

“Yes?” she replies, her dark eyes clouded with warmth, “is everything okay?”

You play with your hands, unsure whether to confess what you want to say... “you won’t ever leave, will you?”

She looks at you with wide eyes, appearing almost shocked such a thing came out your mouth, “of course I'd never leave you!” she gasped. The light in her hands in-between you both grows stronger, “why would you ever think that?”

“Because everyone else left me, that’s why I ended up in Keramzin. And you mean more to me than anyone, even Mal, and I don’t think I would ever cope if something happened to you and i...”

“Hey...” she stops you, “I'm not going anywhere, it’s you and me, always” she places her free hand on your heart and then on hers, symbolising her words. “whenever you see light, know it means I'm with you,” she brings your hands to cup hers, as her light shines brighter and bigger, illuminating both of your faces “I'll be your nightlight to warn off the nightmares, whenever you need me”.

With eyes full of hope and happiness, you intertwine your fingers with hers, still cupped around the ball, and say with a genuine smile “you’re my nightlight”.

#alina starkov #Alina starkov x reader #shadow and bone #jessie mei li #shadow and bone cast #darkling x reader #malyen oretsev #mal x reader #general kirigan #kaz brekker #kaz x reader #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #six of crows #matthias helvar #nina zenik

[honeytae]

What, are you scared?

hi, my loves! happy halloween week :) it’s officially the spookiest time of the year so i wanted to write a little scary movie content. jungkook is um..a major brat in this lol but i hope you all like it <3 tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k

You vowed a long time ago to stay away from scary movies. 

It wasn’t that you were a wimp; you just simply didn’t understand the appeal of subjecting yourself to jump scares and heart palpitations. It was an easy choice for you to avoid the stereotypical gory horror flicks, especially around this time of the year.

That was, until you started dating Jungkook.

Your boyfriend, naturally, wanted to watch the most terrifying and gruesome horror movies you’d ever seen as an annual Halloween tradition. You really couldn’t fathom why he liked them, as they were not only unnecessarily violent, but overall lacking in an actual plot line.

He was always seemingly unaffected by the films he’d pick out for you two to watch; just like tonight as he sat beside you on the couch, one arm around your shoulders and the other dug into the bowl of popcorn between his thighs.

Honestly, the beginning of the movie hadn’t been too bad, starting out relatively tame while both you and Jungkook laughed at the characters' obliviousness on the screen. 

But it had only gotten worse, the film taking a dark psychotic turn that made you a little more than uncomfortable. Some of the parts in the storyline were just unnecessary and ill fitting, and definitely way too violent for your liking. 

Toward the middle of the movie, it had gotten so bad that you had to distract yourself from the film's contents, Jungkook sitting next to you cluelessly as he munched on his snack. You tried to think about other things as you closed your eyes; happier things that didn’t involve a psychotic murderer clutching an axe to put through people’s necks. 

But the attempt at inner peace was interrupted when your boyfriend suddenly wrapped his arm around your head and drummed his buttery fingertips against your lips, making you jolt and nearly scream at the unexpected action.

Jungkook tried but failed to stifle his chuckling, eyes shifting from the screen over to your face with a grin on his own.

“Popcorn?” He clarified, raising the food back up to your mouth from where his hand had dropped to your shoulder at your terrified jump.

“What?” He asked when you scoffed, grabbing the pieces from his fingers with your teeth before looking back at him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, smiling as you glared at him.

“You just love messing with me, don’t you?” You arched an eyebrow, Jungkook smiling in return as he nodded. 

“Little bit, yeah.” He verbally confirmed, you shoving him on the arm as he cackled, nose scrunched with the boyish giggles spilling out of his lips. 

“C’mere, baby, I’ll protect you.” He locked his arm around your front, guiding you back to lay against his chest as you easily complied.

You found yourself focusing on the books stacked on your coffee table instead of the gory scene playing out on the screen above it, still managing to jump when the silence of the room turned into screams once again when the masked killer jumped out to go after his next victims. 

“Okay no, fuck this.” You shook your head, breaking out of Jungkook’s hold to switch the television off and breathing out a sigh of relief at the silence of the now black screen. 

“What?” Jungkook placed his palm on your thigh, using it to boost himself off of where he was relaxed back into the couch cushion as he sat up to look at your face.

You did not turn toward him, stubbornly staring straight ahead at the blank screen as he observed your behavior. He smirked at your refusal to look back at him, reaching his hand forward to wrap around your torso.

“What, are you scared?” He poked you in the rib, making you scoff as you ripped his hand off of the sensitive spot.

“Right now I’m annoyed. Go do the dishes.” You crossed your arms sternly, getting a laugh from him as his hands landed on your hips and easily pulled you onto his lap.

“Why are you annoyed?” He asked with a grin, slipping his hand underneath your shirt and dancing his fingers across the skin as you gave up and laid your head against his chest. 

“Because my absolute brat of a boyfriend makes me suffer through shit like that. Yearly.” You gestured to the tv, feeling his chest vibrate with his chuckles as he rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Aw, baby. Are you mad at me?” He pouted, craning his neck down to sprinkle kisses over your temple and cheek, giggling when you wrinkled your nose at his actions.

“Hm, go do the dishes and we’ll see.” You smirked, Jungkook huffing before shifting you off of his body, standing from the couch with a push of his palms to his knees. 

“Anything for you, my love!” He clutched his hand over his heart dramatically, reaching his other hand out to you as he retreated into the kitchen.

You sighed as you were left alone in the dark room, feeling more than a little creeped out as you only heard the distant sound of clattering dishes as Jungkook dutifully worked through the stack of plates waiting to be washed on your kitchen counter. 

You slowly rose from the couch, tiptoeing out of the living room and down the hall as you listened intently for any footsteps around you. Your hands skimmed the walls as you navigated your way to the base of the stairs through the dark, jumping and turning around at a sudden shuffling noise behind you.

The more rational side of you knew that you were simply paranoid, but god, what if someone was in your home right now? Someone like that stupid fictional character you’d just wasted so much time watching. 

After hearing nothing, not even the dishes clinking in the sink from the kitchen, you decided to continue up the stairs to your bedroom. Creeping up the steps quietly, you quickened your pace, focused on your goal to hopefully climb into your bed to hopefully fall asleep and forget all about the storyline you had sat through the past hour or so.

Pausing momentarily at the top of the dark staircase, you turned around to make sure nobody was silently following you, only to scream as you collided with a firm chest.

You whimpered as Jungkook’s laugh bounced off the walls, not having to see the man in order to know that he was pinching the bridge of his scrunched nose.

“Fuck! Jungkook, you asshole!” You scolded the man, clutching your hands over your heart as you leaned against the wall. 

That movie had shaken you up. Bad.

You frowned as Jungkook doubled over laughing, huffing as you tried to steady your heartbeat. It hit a nerve in you, rolling your eyes and turning from him with a wave of your hand in dismissal.

“Fine. You can sleep on the couch tonight.” You said decidedly, Jungkook’s laughs stopping and the hallway filled by his pleads instead.

“Wait, baby, no. Please.” He ran after you as you walked down the hallway, catching up with you and standing at your side. 

He wrapped his arms around your torso and clumsily tripped slid across the hardwood floors in his socks as he hugged you from the side.

You had to suppress a laugh as he almost brought you down to the ground with him, stealthily catching himself as he latched onto your body.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d get that freaked out, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He asked softly, head perched on your shoulder as he peered curiously at your face. 

You could tell by the sincerity in his tone that he was no longer teasing you, no longer treating you like you were just some big softie that couldn’t handle a scary movie. There was genuine empathy in his tone, albeit a bit of a chuckle stifled behind his words.

“You almost gave me a heart attack. Or stroke, maybe both.” You sighed, heart still pounding but now because of Jungkook’s attentive gaze on you. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He said again, pouting as he widened his bambi eyes at you.

You tried to remain strong as his lips sprinkled kisses over your neck, purposefully focusing on the sensitive spot underneath your ear as he tried to get you to accept his apology. 

He definitely did not want to be in the dog house tonight, something that he reinforced with every press of his lips to your skin. 

“Ugh, fine! You’re forgiven, just stop.” You laughed, Jungkook continuing his actions as he laughed with you, air fanning out on the skin of your shoulder as he began walking the two of you down the hallway to your bedroom.

“My little scaredy-cat.” He said with a kiss to your cheek, you shaking your head in annoyance at him as he giggled into your ear. 

“Shut up.” You whined as you broke apart from him, plopping your body down onto the mattress as he slipped his shirt off of his torso.

You grunted when his body landed on top of yours, Jungkook giggling as he rolled off of your body and propped himself up on his elbow to look over at you. 

With a tapping of his fingertips on your thigh, you wordlessly scooted toward him, facing him and lifting your leg to settle it on his hip. His hand automatically gripped the muscle, stroking the skin with his fingers as you exchanged relaxed sighs. 

“Hey.” He tentatively spoke, his hushed voice interrupting the silence of the room. He didn’t want to wake you if you were asleep, but if he was having trouble drifting off, he was sure that you were, too. 

“What?” You spoke at full volume, eyes remaining closed as you felt the affectionate touch of the back of his finger gently stroking the skin of your cheek.

“You wanna know something?” 

You hummed, Jungkook taking it as a yes as he brushed his hair out of his eyes with his other hand. 

“That movie was scarier than I thought it was. The trailer was deceiving.” He admitted, rolling his eyes when you gasped dramatically and sat up, using the leg you had thrown over his waist for leverage as you lifted yourself to kneel above him.

“Jeon Jungkook? Scared? Of a little movie?” You poked him in the stomach with each punctuation, making him groan as he grabbed your hand to stop your prodding finger.

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t of told you.” He sighed as you began squishing his cheeks with your hands, not being able to hold back his smile at your teasing.

“Aw, my sweet little baby.” You continued your teasing, cackling at Jungkook’s loud groan, whining out a dramatic “Stop” as you cooed at him. 

You decided to pity the man, giggling as he pulled you down by the waist to press your body to his. His lips were stifling a grin, enjoying your teasing despite acting like he wasn’t.

“And I’m the brat?” He asked knowingly, you shrugging in response.

“Tie?” You raised your eyebrows in question, Jungkook laughing as he covered his face with his palms. His hands ran down his face, the back of his head sinking down into the pillow below him as he looked up at you.

“Alright, I’ve had enough. Go to sleep.” He scolded, contradicting his stern tone by planting a sweet kiss to the top of your head as you rested it on his chest. 

“Love you.” You mumbled, increasingly sleepy with the body heat radiating from your boyfriend as he held you to his warm body. 

“Mm, love you too.” He hummed as he shut his eyes, breathing becoming slower as he began to nod off with the puffs of your breath onto his neck. The room was quiet, the rising and falling of your chest lulling him toward slumber as his own did the same to you.

The next thing his conscious brain knew, your body jolted on top of him, pushing yourself up to a sitting position on Jungkook’s chest with your palms laid on his abdomen. The action caused him to groan, putting his forearm over his eyes as he sighed at the loss of sleep he had been so close to attaining. 

“What are you doing?” He mumbled, moving his arm to his forehead but eyes remaining closed as you straddled his waist.

“I heard something, Kook.” 

Your tone was distressed, causing his eyes to pop open immediately and pull you back down to his chest. He laid a comforting hand on the back of your head, securing you in his hold and making you feel less anxious immediately.

“It’s just the heater, baby. We’re fine.” He reassured you, breathing out a sigh of relief at the feeling of you settling down again, seemingly accepting the explanation as your limbs went deadweight again. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He promised, his palm soothing up and down your spine, shutting his eyes again when he felt the vibration of you humming against his neck with a content nod of your head. 

“And I won’t let you pick another damn movie ever again.” You grunted, Jungkook’s chest shaking underneath you as he laughed at your words.

“Deal.”

#bts #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fluff #jungkook #jungkook writing #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #writing #fanfiction #imagines #imagine #fluff #x reader

[alostsock]

An exercise in futility.

Summary/Snippet: “Did you think it hadn’t been tried, Booker?” Booker blinks, slowly turning to face Nicky.

“What?”

“Did you really think it hadn’t been tried? That everything hadn’t been tried? Everything that woman did, every experiment she ran. None of it is new.”

TW: self-harm, medical experimentation (nothing graphic), body horror, self-hatred, suicidal ideation

This is based on a headcanon by @dearpatroclus which you can read here, so thank you to them! Thank you also to @socvrates for the amazing beta, and to @shaolinqueen for the brainstorming, and for the line “Maybe next time, habibi” because it crushed me and so I included it.

Everything below the cut.

Part 1: Booker

“Did you think it hadn’t been tried, Booker?” Booker blinks, slowly turning to face Nicky.

“What?”

“Did you really think it hadn’t been tried? That everything hadn’t been tried? Everything that woman did, every experiment she ran. None of it is new.”

“You’ve been… wait no, you haven’t been taken in the past 200 years, I would have known about it. Science has changed, Nicky. There’s so much that they can do now that they couldn’t do in the 1700s. You don’t know -”

Nicky says nothing. He turns to face Booker, his eyes dark.

“I would have known…” Booker tries again, losing steam when Nicky continues to look at him with a carefully blank face. His shoulders slump. “When were you taken? Where? Was it you? Was it Joe? Andy? Was it when I was in Shanghai in ‘89? Or  Rennes in ‘27? Why didn’t you tell -”

“We weren’t taken, Booker. Or at least, nothing you don’t know about.”

Booker straightens up again. “Well then how would you know - ?”

“I tried it.”

“What?”

“I tried it myself.”

Booker looks at him in confusion. “What do you mean you tried it yourself?”

“I did the research myself.”

Booker knows there’s something that Nicky isn’t saying (as there tends to be with Nicky, his words always hinting at depths he won’t say) but it’s just out of reach, his mind failing to put it together.

Nicky pushes himself up off of the porch step and heads back inside, the door swinging shut behind him.

-----

Part 2: Nile

They’re in an apartment by the Bay of Naples when Nile finds them. It’s an old property, definitely older than Nile (as most things are), and the things scattered around the house show it. The pots are old, the fireplace is well-used, and some of the clothes that Joe pulls out of the closet look like they’re from the wrong century (they just might be).

It looks innocent enough, at first. In an alcove off of the living room there’s a tall bookshelf, full to bursting. Nile hesitates. They’ve told her time and time again that what’s theirs is hers now, but these old books, clearly well-worn and often looked through, feel personal. She leans closer, hesitant to touch anything. Some of them have titles still legible on the spines. Others are too worn to read, while others still don’t appear to have anything written on the spines at all.

There are a few worn classics in Italian, English, and French that Nile recognizes.

Boccaccio, Shakespeare, Hugo, Rabelais.

There are others in languages Nile can’t read.

Curious and vaguely emboldened, Nile pulls out one of the unmarked books.

The only things she really understands are the dates on some of the pages. There are a few drawings that might have been done by Joe, but most of the book is filled with what Nile recognizes as Nicky’s hand.

She thinks it’s in Latin. It might be in Italian, but she suspects it’s too old of a form for her to read with her limited skills. Flipping through a few more pages and unable to really make out anything meaningful, she carefully closes it and puts it back on the shelf, picking up another.

The next one is much the same.

The pictures, scarce though they are, seem scientific, medical. She knows that Nicky has a medical degree - possibly more than one. Maybe he wrote something and Joe did the drawings for him.

It isn’t until the fifth book that the language starts to tend toward a recent enough form that Nile can make some things out between her recently acquired Italian skills and the Spanish she learned in high school. Between that and the obvious progress over the tomes in methodicity and organization, Nile realizes what she’s looking at.

They’re records of experiments.

She feels dread building in her stomach as she sits heavily on the couch, unable to tear her eyes away. There are a few times she needs to pull out her phone to check a translation but it becomes very clear what the experiments were about: they were experiments on immortality.

Nicky experimented on someone - and given what she knows about the immortal… community, or lack thereof? It must have been Joe or Andy or Booker.

She sits in silence, trying to understand.

Kind Nicky, gentle Nicky, very-much-the-mom-friend Nicky, had it in him to cut out pieces of his friends. It doesn’t feel right. Didn’t doctors take an oath to “do no harm”? She supposes it didn’t stop Kozak, and she knows that anything that was done would heal instantly, but the idea of Nicky taking a blade to Joe or Andy or Booker willingly unsettles Nile deeply.

And based on the number of books here (and Nile is sure that, with the number of properties they have around the globe, this isn’t the only stash of them), Nicky did a lot.

The notes are meticulous, and even with the language barrier Nile gets a pretty good idea of the extent to which Nicky went. Even though they heal, it feels wrong.

She hears the padding of footsteps on the stairs and she can’t help but hope that it isn’t Nicky. She isn’t sure if she can face him just yet - if she can handle how much her perception of him has changed.

She lets out a breath of relief when she sees that it’s Joe. When he sees her sitting on the couch he immediately beams at her, and she feels guilt rush through her when his face drops as he notices the book on her lap.

She shouldn’t have looked.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then he huffs out a breath before calling out “Tea?” and heading to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Nile doesn’t know if she can stomach tea.

---

When he comes back he places both teacups on the coffee table before carefully taking the book out of her hands, closing it, and putting it back on the shelf. She notices that he does it all without even looking down at the page. He keeps his gaze averted as if he can’t bear to look at it.

She’s speaking before she can stop herself. “Was it you?”

Joe freezes midway from the shelf to the couch.

“What?”

Nile gestures vaguely. “The… the book. Was it you?”

Joe frowns. “What? No… I mean… Nicky wrote it. He’s the one with the medical training, you know that.”

Nile blinks. “I mean… who did he… who did he experiment on. Was it you? I just… I can’t imagine he would, on you… and so much, too. Even on Andy, or Booker, I...”

Joe’s expression shutters. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment before hesitantly walking the rest of the way back to the couch and sitting down beside her.

He stares down at his own hands, fiddling with one of his rings. “Nicky never touched us.”

That does not make Nile feel better. She squeezes her hands together to stop them from shaking. If he wasn’t experimenting on immortals, then that only left… “He - he must have killed them.”

Joe whips his head around to face her. “What?”

“I… I know I didn’t understand everything, but some of the things he did, there’s no way they made it. He was just… just killing them. For the sake of what, science? Nicky? I never - ”

Joe cuts her off with a quick shake of his head, taking her hand in his.

“No.”

“Joe, have you read those? Even with my shitty Italian and no medical degree I can tell that -”

“No.”

Nile softens. She knows denial. Nicky’s been the love of his life for 900 years. “Joe…”

Joe clears his throat uncomfortably, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’ve read them, Nile. I did the art… when I could handle it.” She waits, sensing he has more to say. “But… Nile… he didn’t hurt anybody else.” She opens her mouth, about to argue that it’s impossible when he continues, “The point was to test immortality, test how it can be… what it can do. If it can be harnessed. Testing mortals would have been pointless.”

“But you said he didn’t touch you. He clearly experimented on someone, Joe, he -”

“He refused to hurt anyone else.”

Nile blinks, confused, but Joe doesn’t say anything else. He lets go of her hand and goes back to playing with his rings, but Nile can see the anguish written all over his face. She reaches out a tentative hand to rest on his back, unsure how to comfort him, or even, really, what she’s comforting him for. 

“Joe…” But then, what he said seems to settle in her mind. “He didn’t hurt anyone else.” Joe nods, doesn’t look at her. “He didn’t hurt anyone else,” Nile continues. She thinks she’s going to be sick. “All of that… all of that, he did to himself?”

Joe doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to.

-----

Part 3: Joe

Joe loves and hates medical breakthroughs. He loves them because, having lived for so long, it’s such an amazing thing to see things that used to cause so much suffering no longer need to. He loves how many unfathomable things have become possible.

He hates them because every time something groundbreaking is published, Nicky gets a distant look in his eyes. Then come the days of scouring the literature, the planning, the hypothesizing. Nicky sinks into a dark hole that will only get darker, and Joe has to try to press food into his hands and drag his love to bed because if he didn’t, he knows Nicky wouldn’t stop to breathe.

What Joe hates most is that working himself to the bone is hardly the worst thing that Nicky will do to himself when he gets into it.

He hates that he knows that nothing he says will dissuade Nicky from desperately destroying himself.

He hates that all he can do is wait until he sees in Nicky’s eyes that it won’t work - until he sees that Nicky knows (however much he doesn’t want to admit it) that he’s tried everything, and that continuing is pointless.

He hates that even though, in the back of his mind, Nicky knows he’s done, he will continue regardless, doing the same thing over and over, still hoping for a different outcome. He hates that all he can do is pull the notebook out of Nicky’s trembling hands, press a kiss to his forehead, and brush back his sweaty hair before putting a hand under his elbow and helping him to his feet.

“Maybe next time, habibi. For now, sleep.”

-----

Part 4: Andy

Healing is exhausting. The human body (even the immortal one) needs fuel. It needs rest.

It isn’t meant to be taken apart over and over, no matter how seamlessly the skin grows back.

After she walks in to find Nicky focused over a piece of his own liver, a frenzied, desperate look in his eyes for the umpteenth time, his cheeks gaunt and his face pale, she realizes the best and worst part of the progression of humanity is science.

It’s not the first time he’s gotten like this, and she’s sure that it won’t be the last.

She knows that Nicky carries guilt. She knows that horrors from his first life still haunt him in his dreams, and that he still sees himself as responsible for the atrocities committed centuries ago at Jerusalem.

She suspects that, in everything that he does, a part of Nicky is still trying to atone - a part of him still sees himself as owing penance.

She suspects that, in the deepest part of his heart, Nicky hates himself a little

She suspects that this will never really change..

She knows that no amount of pleading, of Joe’s tears, of reminders that nothing has ever worked, will stop Nicky from desperately hoping that this time, this time he can pull something out of himself that will save the world.

She has offered, Joe has offered, every time Nicky is convinced that something is different, now - that humankind has what it needs, to make it work this time - to be the sample, to be the source.

Nicky took a scalpel to Andy’s skin once with a quivering hand before leaving to throw up.

“You’ve cut me in training before. You don’t need to keep hurting yourself.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“What if… what if it’s the last time and I did it on purpose?”

“What if it’s your last time?”

Nicky turns away without a word, but Andy hears the “it wouldn’t matter” all the same.

#the old guard #fanfic #fic #angst #catholic guilt #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: self loathing #tw: self harm #tw: body horror #tw: horror #tw: vomit

[wingsofhcpe]

whumptober day 1- barbed wire

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood & injury

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85114393

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

It’s days before Ivan finally finds Fedyor.

The druskelle, clever bastards that they are, have elected to hide near the borders with Fjerda and wait for reinforcements rather than make a run for it. There’s an abandoned warehouse that must have once been a butcher’s store near a withering Ravkan village; it’s well-camouflaged between the trees, and the vegetation and snowdrifts muffle the sounds of screaming that echo from inside as the witch-hunters torment their prisoners night and day. The location would have been impossible to hide, had it not been for the honed senses of a Heartrender being able to detect the distressed heartbeats from miles away, as well as an experienced Squaller sensing the slightest vibrations in the air that are commonly caused by loud noises such as screams.

Seven Grisha had been taken captive during the druskelle raid at their camp; when Ivan barrels into the warehouse, druskelle dropping left and right with nothing but a flicker of his wrists, he finds two survivors and five rotting corpses. For a moment, he fears the worst- but as his senses clear and the adrenaline of battle fades, he realises one of the two remaining heartbeats echoing in the dark, murky space, belongs to Fedyor. Ivan’s head snaps like a hound catching the scent of blood, and it is mere seconds before his eyes adjust to the distorted light coming from the busted door, and he finally makes out a shape at the far end of the warehouse. Before he can even think about it, he’s running.

Fedyor’s body is suspended by the wrists from a meat hook attached to the ceiling; it’s bad enough to see his lover limp and unmoving like a corpse, but then Ivan takes a closer look and realises with gut-wrenching horror that Fedyor’s hands aren’t bound with rope but with thick coils of barbed wire. The jagged points have dug deep within the skin, leaving sickening gouges across Fedyor’s wrists and forearms. There’s blood everywhere, having dripped down to his elbows, shoulders and even his hair. It has created a small puddle on the rotting floorboards, and Ivan’s boots squelch as he steps on it, trying to get as close to Fedyor as possible. The latter is nearly unconscious, but he makes a low, keening sound when Ivan attempts, in vain, to undo his bindings. It’s no use; the barbs are embedded deep into the flesh, and trying to uncoil them now will only cause more damage, more bleeding, more pain. They have to be cut away, but Ivan isn’t sure whether any of his Grisha is carrying a blade sharp and slender enough for the job. Either way, his first concern should be getting Fedyor down from where he’s still hanging from; this way, he’ll be able to get a better look.

It’s slow work, painstaking for both parties. Fedyor stirs in and out of consciousness as Ivan works, whimpering and begging for mercy. Ivan realises with a pang of unrestrained fury what a devilishly clever idea it had been to bind a Grisha’s hands in such a manner- Fedyor’s hands are close enough, he could twist them if he tried, he could use his powers to do away with his captors. But the barbed edges would shred his skin further if he did, would cause him to suffer and bleed even more. The druskelle had evidently known that; they had risked their own lives for the sake of toying with their prisoners in such a sadistic, inhuman manner.

Fedyor’s weak, pained cry jolts Ivan out of his fury-addled thoughts, and he realises belatedly that he has pulled too roughly at the wires; fresh blood is trickling from somewhere, and Ivan swears colourfully under his breath.

“I’m sorry, moye serdtse, I’m sorry,” he whispers, hoping Fedyor can hear him, hoping he knows Ivan doesn’t want to hurt him, he just has to get him down for his own good “I’m almost done. Just stay strong for me, Fedya.”

Finally, he manages to pry the hook loose from the wire; Fedyor’s body drops lifelessly, but Ivan is there to catch him and gently lower him to the floor, until Fedyor is lying against his chest. Ivan holds him gently, cradling him against his own body and whispering apologies and reassurances. It’s only then that Fedyor’s eyes open just slightly, brown irises glazed with pain and pupils dilated. His cracked, bloodied lips move, and Ivan has to strain to hear him.

“You found me.” The injured man whispers, and Ivan nods seriously.

“Of course I did, my love. I’m here now. You’re safe.” He doesn’t mention how he’s been too late; how he’s allowed the druskelle to torture Fedyor for four long, endless days. How they have lost five of their own, because Ivan had been too incompetent to find them fast enough.

Yet Fedyor’s mouth twitches into a small, relieved smile. “I knew you would… you always… find me…”

“Shh…” Ivan lays a hand on Fedyor’s cheek, flushed with fever. “Don’t talk now.”

They stay still for a little while; Fedyor’s ragged breathing echoing in sync with Ivan’s relieved sighs as he holds his beloved close, peppering gentle, loving kisses across his bloodied cheeks and brow. Eventually, Ivan carefully places a hand over Fedyor’s still bound wrists.

“I need to take these off.” He says softly, and catches the glint of fear in Fedyor’s delirious gaze. “I cannot lie to you, Fedya, it will hurt. But it will only be for a little while. It’ll feel much better after.”

Fedyor whimpers softly. “…so much. They hurt so much, Vanya. My hands… it feels like they’re on fire…”

“I know, I know.” Ivan voice cracks with despair; seeing Fedyor suffer like this, it’s too much to bear. “I will make it better, I promise. Just… Just trust me, dearest.”

Fedyor’s eyes close, but he nods tiredly; even while in so much pain, he must know there’s no other solution. Ivan takes his kefta off, bundles it up into a makeshift pillow and lays Fedyor down on it as carefully as he can. Then he calls out to one of his Grisha, requesting the sharpest and thinnest blade that can be found in their equipment or the druskelle’s. While rummaging, he takes the opportunity to hastily check on the other survivor, a younger Inferni woman- she’s alive and in slightly better condition than Fedyor, although her hands have been bound in a similar manner. By using her powers to heat them up, however, she has made the wires pliant and thus easier to remove. Clever, Ivan thinks to himself. He would have asked her to do the same for Fedyor’s bonds, but she looks so pale, and she can’t even sit up without feeling faint. No, he can’t run her any more ragged. The dagger will have to do.

Finally, Ivan finds a fine, razor-sharp blade within one of the druskelle’s coats. It’s possibly used for gutting fish, and is less than clean, but it’s his only choice, and anyway, Fedyor’s probably already suffering from an infection judging by the rust that covers the wires. Dried fish gore won’t make a big difference at this point.

“Close your eyes and count to fifty, Fedya.” Ivan encourages as he kneels next to his partner. “Focus on the numbers. Don’t think of anything else.”

Fedyor nods feebly and does as he’s told; his eyes close and his lips begin to move in a voiceless mumble as he starts to count. Ivan slips his fingers carefully between the coils of wire, and as gently as he can, he begins to saw at it with the dagger. No matter how gentle he tries to be, however, Fedyor’s body immediately tenses and his breath comes out in short gasps. Ivan shushes him softly, although he knows it’s not much help. The best he can do for Fedyor now, is focus on his task. And so he does- he does his best to shut off the pained gasps that soon turn into whimpers, and saws methodically at the accursed barbed coil until, little by little, it starts to come off.

“…fifty.” Fedyor murmurs shakily at some point, and Ivan doesn’t have to look to know there are tears running down his blood-crusted cheeks.

“Ten more, moye serdtse. I’m almost done. You’re doing so well. You’re so, so brave, my Fedyenka. So brave.”

Fedyor’s chest heaves as he cries quietly, but he doesn’t complain, not even when Ivan finally cuts through the wires and is able to pull them away. There’s a sickening wet sound as the barbs are pulled free from Fedyor’s flesh, where they’d been wedged for days, and Fedyor’s back arches- for once, he can’t keep in the hoarse scream that rips out of his throat. But the next moment his muscles relax as Ivan unbinds him completely, his fingers twitching slightly in relief as blood circulates back to them. Ivan breathes out a sigh, and places his palm on Fedyor’s forehead.

“I’m done, Fedya. It’s alright now.” Fedyor only shakes his head a little, unable to speak. But his heartbeat has eased just slightly- he’s still in pain, but he’s better.

The group makes camp right there, inside the warehouse (after moving the corpses of the druskelle away and dumping them into a snowdrift to be prey for scavenging animals. Serves them right). They hold a funeral pyre for the deceased Grisha, but Ivan only speaks a few words as the squad’s leader and then retreats back into the building; one of the others has lit a fire in the middle, right under an opening in the rotting roof, using old scraps and thin branches. The interior is warm now, and the smell of burning cloth and wood is chasing away the odour of stale blood and dead bodies. Ivan directs two of the Grisha to stand watch as soon as the funeral pyre outside is done, and focuses on the task at hand.

He digs around the ruins until he finds something that resembles an old, cracked wooden bowl- possibly used by the previous owner of the establishment to collect the majority of the blood that poured from freshly slaughtered cattle. It looks cleaner than one would expect, and it smells only vaguely of blood; nothing a good rinse with snow can’t fix. After that’s done, Ivan refills the bowl with snow and holds it over the fire until it’s turned into warm water. He rummages through the squad’s supplies too, and finds clean cloths and bandages.

Fedyor’s eyes flutter behind pale, close lids when Ivan returns to his side, although he seems to weak to open them. Still, Ivan knows he’s still conscious and in pain.

“I’m going to clean your wounds.” He says softly, sitting next to the other man. Fedyor can only hum in agreement- it’s not like he could move away even if he wanted to. Even if he didn’t know his wounds had to be cleaned before infection set in for real. There was no Healer with them, as conflict hadn’t been expected. It had only been a reconnaissance mission. It would be three days of fast riding at the very best, until they made it back to the Little Palace, and Fedyor wouldn’t last for half of it if Ivan didn’t do something to keep the infection at bay.

So with as much care as he can possibly muster, Ivan takes hold of Fedyor’s hand into his own and lifts it up slowly to take a closer look. Even with the dried blood obscuring the worst of it, Ivan can already tell it’s worse than he’s initially assessed; the cuts are deep, the skin around them swollen and hot to the touch, and there’s white liquid concentrated on the edges of the deeper, wider gashes. Fedyor’s hand is trembling in his own, and Ivan can only imagine how much it truly hurts. Fedyor has a high pain tolerance, yet even for him this must be almost unbearable.

In a desperate attempt to comfort his partner, Ivan starts to hum a slow lullaby as he soaks a strip of cloth in the warm water, then wrings it out and starts to slowly, gently clean the blood and grime away from the cuts. Fedyor lets out a quiet sigh of relief, the clean, warm water immediately doing wonders for his mangled hand. Ivan allows himself a small smile; he doesn’t cease his humming while he continues to carefully clean and bandage Fedyor’s left hand, then his right. All the while he keeps a metaphorical eye on Fedyor’s heartbeat, glad to feel it gradually grow slower and more relaxed. The last thing Ivan does after he’s checked Fedyor for other open wounds (he’s satisfied to find nothing, although the dark bruises on his face, chest and ribs are certainly worrisome), is clean the rest of the blood from his husband’s hair, face, and neck. By the end of it, the water in the bowl has turned from clear to a dark, muddy brown colour. Ivan does away with it as soon as he can- he can no longer stand to look at Fedyor’s blood.

Most of the other Grisha have gone to sleep by now, including the other survivor- a good sign all in all, and Ivan can see from where he stands that her own wounds have also been taken care of. The two Grisha he’d ordered to stand watch are doing so in a perfectly straight posture, even after four gruelling days of riding and searching, and Ivan makes a mental note to mention their names and devotion to the General when they go back to the capital. When he’s certain everything is in order, Ivan finally allows himself to lie down next to Fedyor. The wooden floor is uncomfortable at best, but he doesn’t care. Gently, he slings one arm over his husband’s sleeping form and draws him close. He’s never letting Fedyor go, ever again.

Fedyor hums a little in his sleep, cracking one eye open to look at Ivan. Immediately, he smiles tiredly and Ivan smiles back, unable to begrudge him such a simple pleasure.

“How are you feeling, moye serdtse?” He asks.

“Much… much better.” Fedyor whispers in a relaxed manner. Yet Ivan doesn’t harbour any illusions- he knows the pain and fever will come back with a vengeance soon, and he wants Fedyor to get as much rest as possible until then. He’ll need it. So he places a chaste kiss on Fedyor’s lips and starts filing his hand through the latter’s hair. Predictably, Fedyor submits to the affections; Ivan knows how to best make him relax, even under such conditions.

“Sleep.” Ivan whispers tenderly, and Fedyor nods. Before he closes his eyes again, Fedyor offers him another small smile.

“I knew you’d find me.” He mouthed, and Ivan nodded, pride and love and devotion swelling in his chest.

“Of course, my love. I will never leave you. I promise.”

Even if the whole Ravka, the whole world, was against them, they believed in each other. And in the end, that was that really mattered.

#my writing #whumptober 2021 #fivan #heartrender husbands #shadow & bone #fedyor kaminsky #ivan no last name #fedyor x ivan #angst #whump #whumptober

[bansheeoftheforest]

Ramble about angst from amnesia ghost au?

Oh boi here i go

ALSO DO NOT HOLD ME RESPONSIBLE IF I REPEAT STUFF. My brain is teeny tiny pea sized smooth like fucker and I do not remember what we have talked about before and I physically cannot come up with angst by myself <3

Ok ahaha I am not sure! If I came up with new ideas! Or if i accidentally mixed shit!! But !!! My brain physically cannot come up with angst and I TRIED to keep this angsty but... heh <3

At first, of course, Henry doesn’t even realise that he is dead. He wakes up somewhere-- he can see the stars, it’s night, yet the sky is illuminatingly polluted by the warm lights from apartment windows that all seem so far away. His body feels numb, and it’s so silent. He tries to sit up, he feels... Light. 

He feels his chest rising and falling, yet he does not feel himself taking in any air. He is hidden somewhere, he is sitting behind a few dumpsters and rubble, he doesn’t know where he is. He tries to look at his hands, they are see-through. He looks at his legs-- his legs aren’t see-through. It’s not his legs.

He turns, and on the ground where he is sitting, he sees the wrangled corpse of a man-- pale skin and blue lips, hair dirtied with coagulated blood, joints and bones and limbs bent in ways that shouldn’t be possible, clothes torn. The man had just died. He doesn’t recognise the man, but he doesn’t need to. It takes a few moments of staring into those wide-open, empty eyes and then looking back at his transparent body to know that it’s his corpse. But... Why can’t he remember anything?

His head is empty, and not only because he has no physical body. He sees how his tongue has rolled out of his limp mouth of his corpse, he sees the fractures in his skull, he can see the flesh. He has no physical body, but he can still feel it.

He stands up-- or whatever the ghost equivalent to standing up is. He watches his body, he looks down on himself. He is a mirror image of his physical form. He reaches up to his own head, and he can feel the crack in his skull. He reaches to his chest, and he can feel the broken bones poking out through his clothes. 

The body... It’s indifferent to him. At the same time, he gets overwhelmed by such an urge of protectiveness. He doesn’t understand it, not until he hears the footsteps of someone coming closer and closer.

He sees a shadow by the opening of the alleyway. He blacks out. He doesn’t know what he did until he hears an ear piercing scream and sees the body of a woman getting thrown against a wall. He doesn’t know what happened but he knows he did that. He doesn’t feel remorse, no, yet he has no chance of finishing the job before she has already fled screaming from the scene. 

Henry is not done just yet.

Henry does not let anyone go anywhere near the alleyway for a week straight. Anyone who dares come close will feel themselves getting tossed and thrown around like a chewtoy, thrown against walls or other people. It’s not until an unfortunate victim ends up with cracked bones and a hairline fracture in their skull that the police has had enough, they are going to get to the bottom of this. They question victims and witnesses, and in the end, they decide to call in the local ghost expert.

Maijabi arrives at the scene quite quickly, the police part to let him through. Surprisingly, Maijabi actually manages to enter the alleyway with no problem, yet his ghost detection device is beeping in warning. He turns a corner, and that’s when he finds it-- or him. On the floor, bloodied and rotten, lays the corpse of Dr. Henry Jekyll, unrecognisable from the consequences of his gory demise and his many days used as a feast by the rats and stray dogs roaming the neighbourhood. His eyes are gone, his skin has sunken in, patches of flesh has been ripped from his body. Maijabi drops his device. It takes five seconds before the Scotland Yard calls his name and tries to enter the alleyway in fear of the ghost haven taken him as a victim, too. They find Maijabi staring at the corpse, it does not take long for the police to gasp in a mix of fear, disgust, and horror.

They try to get to the body, they try to move it, but as they feared, the ghost as not calmed down. They hear screeches mere moments before they get thrown against a wall, making Maijabi snap out of it.

Ahah wowo i just realized I spent quite a long time with this alone but anyways so I dont repeat that one post; Maijabi manages to trap Henry, his haunting screams of agony only worsens the trauma and horror that has already infected those around him. He screams, he begs, he pleads, but no one can understand what he is saying. It’s not until the cops move his corpse and his wallet falls out that he calms down so slightly, suddenly fixated on nothing but the wallet. Maijabi picks it up and opens it, the first thing he sees is a group picture of all the Lodgers. He places it in Henry’s trap to calm him, and then he takes him back to the Society.

(Well, this is specifically for the vengeful branch of this au branch but ye <3)

Can you imagine the absolute horror and sorrow Maijabi would be going through in such a short time? After all, it was never unusual for Henry to be away for... Well, what’s it been, a week? Now Maijabi is left with Henry who doesn’t know who he is and who wants nothing but to hurt anyone in his path, now he is responsible for telling the other Lodgers.

When Henry isn’t destroying lab equipment or possessing Lodgers, regardless of if he is free to roam or trapped, he will weep and cry but he never knows why. He just feels terrible and lost, sometimes he gets struck by such an overwhelming sense of sorrow and anguish he can do nothing but to... Well, weep. No matter how scared or mad the Lodgers are, they all feel so terrible when the weeping echos throughout the Society.

Henry has the ghost equivalent of PTSD after his death. He gets flashbacks and panic attacks when he suddenly remembers his death or other trauma he suffered throughout his life or death, even if he can’t remember his life. Regardless of if he is generally violent or not, Maijabi always does his best to calm and help him.

Jasper volunteers to let Henry possess him and (I’m going to switch over to when he ISN’T violent for these ones) spends time with him. Henry doesn’t know who Jasper is but he feels a little less lonely and slightly better when he has someone who cares for him and spends time with him. In the beginning, they could only have Henry possessing Jasper for short moments because the poor boy kept getting overwhelmed with Henry’s emotions, and Maijabi and the other Lodgers worried that the amnesiac affect would bleed onto Jasper. It didn’t, though, so while they work on trying to regain Henry’s memories, Henry clings to him. It goes a bit overboard once Henry starts developing separation anxiety, and he constantly worries that something will happen to Jasper.

Jasper keeps having flashes of Henry’s life and how he died. He wakes up crying most of the time, and since Henry is the first person he sees when he wakes up, he gets panic attacks, yet he refuses to let Henry down and make things even worse for him, yet it makes Henry feel worse knowing he is torturing poor Jasper.

If it isn’t the vengeful branch of this au, Henry would be found by Maijabi curled up against the wall where his body was. Maijabi, at that point, would already have known that it’s Henry’s body has the ghost wasn’t violent and the cops could take the corpse no problem. He finds Henry weeping, but he gets overjoyed when he realises that Maijabi can see and hear him. Maijabi leads him back to the Society but Henry never stops crying. Maijabi is not sure if his shirt is wet with blood or his own tears.

Weeping. So much weeping. Exploring the Society while weeping. Dancing in empty ballrooms while weeping. Spying on the Lodgers while trying to stop his weeping. Henry weeps constantly and he can’t stop it. 

The weeping and Henry’s sorrow only got worse when Helsby snapped and told him to shut up. The Lodgers immediately began to yell at Helsby while Henry locked himself into an empty room and cried harder. He doesn’t know what he did wrong or why people don’t like him, he just wants to be liked.

#ask #ghost au #banshees au #anon percy #Im just. GOing to hope that this is alright bc i physicall cannot write more on this <3

[cyro-starfire]

What hurts to talk about...

Cyro X Minus!Lemon Monster hurt/comfort fic

Once again i will be tagging @monsternightfunkin because their blog gives me insperation to write

⚠️WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC:⚠️ OC X CANON, ABUSE MENTION, NIGHTMARE, TRAUMA, SLIGHT SELF HARM (Hitting head), CRINGE

Colors for characters

Cyro - Pink

Minus - Orange

Please enjoy my horrid writing if you can!

It was late into the night, probably around 11 PM or 12 AM. Minus had been put in charge in taking care of Cy, despite Girlfriend and Pico being reluctant in letting him. The others knew Minus was strong enough to protect Cy if any danger were to come into the house. Cyro was sleeping on their bed while Minus slept on the floor, the alien had insisted that Minus should sleep on their bed but he declined, he was worried that with his weight he'd crush the bed, besides their rug wasn't too bad to sleep on, it was soft and fuzzy like him!

Cyro had been very reluctant on letting Minus sleep on the floor because it just didn't feel all to right but they really couldn't say no to him, so they let him sleep on their rug anyway. Despite it being the floor, Minus was catching some good Z's, having a pretty good dream! Cyro on the other hand...was having the opposite experience...

The poor alien was having terrible nightmares for the past week...and they were all about HER...Cyro's abusive ex girlfriend, Sam. It had been over 3 years since Cyro had broken up with her, but the scars from her abuse still remained within Cyro's mind...the horrible things she would say to them...the horrible things she would do to them...it would give Cyro horrible visions and make them go into a traumatic episode if they ever saw anything that reminded them of Sam...

The alien whimpered and whined softly, untill those whimpers got louder...and louder, their body was shaking madly, tears formed in their shut eyes, they could feel her disgusting hands on their body despite her not being there...they could hear her terrible voice, mocking them, laughing at them. Reminding them that they were nothing but a pathetic little alien...

"n-no...no...no no no no no...NONONONOO!!!" They screamed in horror and agony as they choked on tears and awoke from their horror filled dream...panting heavily as they looked around the room. They took a moment to let the cool night air fill their burning, aching lungs...their body was covered in sweat, and tears filled their eyes...they held their pillow tightly and sobbed into it. "Wh-Why...why c-can't y-y-you just leave m-me alone...p-please...g-get out of m-my head..." They whimpered, they wanted to forget Sam and the hell she put Cy through whilst in the relationship with her...

Cyro took their hands off of their pillow and started to hit their temples with their hands. "G-Get out...get out...get out, get out, GET OUT GET OUT!!" They screamed in what at first was fear but then it turned into rage...rage for what she had done to them, and rage for her not getting any karma for it, it aggravated Cy, why did they have to suffer while Sam gets off Scott free? It wasn't fair...why was life cruel like this? What did they do to deserve this?

They were interrupted by a big claw gently grabbing their left hand and stopping that hand from landing blows on their own head. They looked quickly at who had did it, but quietly sighed in relief when they saw that it was just Minus. "Why are you hitting your head? Your head didn't do anything bad did it?" The huge lemon monster yawned. "Don't hurt yourself like that, it's bad." He whined at Cy groggily. "O-Oh, s-s-sorry i w-w-woke you M-Minus, th-there was j-just...a-a fly on my h-head that's all!" Cyro tried to lie.

"I love you but please don't fib to me like that." Minus whimpered in typical dog fashion. "Why were you hitting your head, and screaming 'get out' for?" He asked them again...Cyro looked at Minus...they were hesitant to tell him...They didn't wanna worry him about what had been going on for the past week...would he even understand the gravity of the situation...? Sure he was abused like them but...it was a different kind of abuse...right...? "I...i..." Cyro tried to come up with a good excuse but nothing came to them...

They really had no other option did they? The alien sighed gently and finally gave up. "F-Fine, I'll...i-i'll tell y-you what's going on..." They admitted hesitantly. Minus gently put a claw on their bed to let them know that Cy had his full attention for this time..."I-I've...b-b-been having a-alot of nightmares a-about m-my ex girlfriend, S-Sam recently...a-about how she w-would abuse and manipulate m-me...i t-tried to see wh-what i could do t-to make them go away, b-but they s-still haven't stopped and i...i..." They started to tear up again. "I-I just w-want to forget a-about her s-so b-badly Minus...b-but...i-i don't kn-know if i can..." They said sniffling.

It wasn't before long until they finally broke down in front of minus, holding in any and all tears backfired badly for them, they sobbed and grabbed their pillow again, sobbing into it and apologizing to him that he's now seeing this side of them...he must think their pathetic now...however for Minus...seeing Cyro like this reminded him of himself when he was younger, and those monster hunters would torment him day and night...The lemon monster got up and gently picked up Cy, who was still clinging onto their pillow tightly, still saying "I'm sorry" in short chokes of tears.

"Hey...please don't cry, i don't like it when your in pain..." Minus said to Cyro softly, lifting up their chin gently with his claw. "i-i-i-i'm s-s-s-sorry...i-i-i-i'm s-s-so s-sorry..." They hiccuped, they couldn't stop feeling like it was their fault, maybe they did deserve to get abused, maybe they did deserve to be mentally damaged forever...maybe- all of their thoughts were interrupted by Minus giving them a small, soft lick on the cheek. "H-Huh?" Cyro held their cheek confused. "I don't know who hurt you, how and why but i do know your in pain, and you don't deserve to be in pain..." Minus said to Cyro in almost a hushed whisper, holding them closely to his chest.

There was a brief silence between the two, before Minus broke it again "I'm here for you, i will protect you, everything will be okay, i love you..." He whispered to them, their sobs and sniffles slowly grew quiet as their tears eventually stopped, they were still shaking slightly but not as bad as before...they leaned into Minu's chest and took a moment to embrace how warm he was...how fluffy he was...how safe they were with him..."th-thank you..." Cyro purred softly, as they snuggled into him...the two had a moment of comfortable and safe silence with one another...it was nice. Maybe this is what Cy deserved...healing...saftey...love...

And Minus was there to give it to them. Minus slowly curled up with Cy in their arms, making sure they were comfortable, and the two fell asleep together...

#cy's shitty fanfics #tw fnf #fnf #fnf minus #friday night funkin #friday night funkin minus #fnf monster #monster fnf #fnf minus monster #fnf lemon monster #lemon monster fnf #fnf minus lemon monster #fnf lemon demon #lemon demon fnf #minus monster #cyro #cy #cyro starfire #oc x canon #tw abuse mention #tw nightmare #tw trauma #lemcy #mincy #minus monster x cyro #minus lem x cyro #cyro x minus lem #hurt/comfort fic #fnf fic #fnf fanfic

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - Chapter 4

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 3 | Chap 4 The First Date night | Chap 5 >

Disclaimer: fluff, mild smuttiness, some strong language

Word count: 2.303

Author’s note: I had so much food the past couple of days 😂So yea, despite the Christmas days having been weird at best, me and my bf had quite a bit of fun - and a whole lot of romantic dinners to kill the time. And ..now we’re talking romantic dinners..

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

‘Black or purple, what do you think?’ Henry held up the two ties before Kal, the dog tilting his head left and right, as if deciding which one was better. The answer was apparently quite simple according to Henry’s dog; with an excited huff the Akita jumped right up in Henry’s face, licking him all over.

‘Yea, yea, hahahah - that’s the goal. Hahahah. You got me there. So..no tie, then?’ He pushed the dog back down and ruffled him through his thick fur. Kal borked softly and Henry agreed. ‘Very well, a little less formal is probably better, you’re right. We’re having a date at home, anyways.’

Henry breathed in deeply and looked in the direction of the kitchen, his stew simmering on a low fire as he heard Phoebe rummage upstairs, some closet cabinets opening and closing in a mildly hasty manner.

With Henry still in full recovery, it was decided that it would be best to just stick to a cute home dinner for their first dinner date since his memory loss - just to avoid any overzealous fans that would disturb him in a restaurant after the news had been released that he had suffered a serious head injury in a motorcycle accident.

The accident had left many scars. Both physical and mental. It was weird to be here at home now more people lived here, the kids on a prolonged stay with the grandparents while Henry and his wife recuperated from the shake-up his - their - life had had.

In the past days Henry had seen about every specialist and doctor in the book. He went from lengthy couch sessions with a psychologist - the story of the introduction of his kids having been received with mild horror - to the keeping of sleep and medication schedules with his doctor to make sure he got enough recovery and rest in between re-learning the basics of his new life.

The fact that a good many people surviving such head trauma would never be the same, troubled Henry greatly, and so whenever he was allowed to search the internet, which was sparingly, he scoured it like a starved man, the printer in the living room doing over-time to print all the articles and research he had found.

But, all that research would have to wait for the moment. First he’d have to get reacquainted with another part of his life: his wife. And even now as he heard her rummage around the master bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter with nerves.

What if she didn’t like the new Henry? What if he couldn’t fall in love with her. Or the sex would be awful, or..

NO! Stop those thoughts.

Looking back in the hallway mirror, he unbuttoned his blouse a little further, a little peek of chest hair popping out over the sleek white fabric.

‘Button up or down?’ Henry looked over at Kal, but the dog thought his human dad was being ridiculous, his body turning around to trod back to the kitchen to slobber up some water.

‘..Very well then.’

--

It was near surprising how easy dinner went by. Which of course, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise; Henry and Phoebe had several dinners at home before this one, though they never had been quite so romantic. Henry had turned the lights down low and lit some candles, the kitchen radio playing some soft jazzy music playing in the background.

With dinner over and the dirty plates returned to the dishwasher - the dance of moving around the kitchen together now quite well practised, they ended up on the couch, the both of them sipping on some tea, since it was strongly advised not to consume alcohol after Henry’s brain injury.

‘So...’ Henry finished the last sip of his tea and placed it on the side table next to his right elbow, his blue eyes searching for his wife’s slightly dazed expression - she did have a wine or two with his stew.

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you falling asleep on me, wife?’

‘Hahaha you wish.’

‘I do wish.’

‘Oh stop it!’ Her cheeks burned a bright pink, making Henry chuckle - at least he still got some of his charms.

‘I WAS actually wondering about what you mentioned earlier. When I asked you on this date..remember?’

‘Yea…’ She lifted her legs and crossed them, snuggling herself more comfortable in her nook on the couch, lips blowing over her slowly cooling tea.

‘What did you mean by “we never really dated”?’ Henry quoted the last words with his fingers.

‘Oh!’ She quickly looked away, her hands deciding it was best to put her tea away on the side table on her side of the couch. ‘Yea….’ She looked back at Henry. ‘That’s a funny story..’

‘Mmm?’

‘Okay, okay. So, I’m just curious. How do you think we met?’ Her eyebrows rose in expectation, her body fully turning towards him, legs still crossed before her chest. Henry also turned slightly, his arm stretching out over the back of the couch, his fingertips just about able to reach her knees.

‘Hmm. I’ve actually thought about that. Though of course I don’t know. But ehh..’ He squinted his eyes a little, as if playfully wanting to guess. ‘I think I met you on set.’

‘How’s that?’

‘I don’t know. Just a feeling.’

‘Well. It’s not. Try again.’

‘Okay..Ehm, then I totally met you at the grocery store and hit on you so hard that you thought I was some weird creep?’

She laughed. ‘That has happened. Not with you though.’

‘Shame.’

Phoebe laughed and shook her head. ‘Dork.’

‘OH! A comic book store?! A Comic Con? A..’

‘No, and.. no.’

‘Alright, I don’t know. Spill the beans, wife-dear.’

She shot him an exasperated look, before clicking her tongue. ‘We shagged at an after party.’

Henry’s face blanked. ‘I’m sorry, say that again: AT an after party?’

‘Yea..we definitely did it AT the after party.’

‘Was I drunk?’

Phoebe laughed. ‘Shit Henry. Of course we were. We both were. I wouldn’t for the life of me shag anyone on any party, but there we were, fumbling hands and tearing expensive dress shirts in a toilet stall.’ 

Henry’s eyes widened at her words.

‘Yea..classy, right? And you left me a little present too.’

‘We’re not talking about just a phone number here, huh?’

‘Nope. You knocked me up with our ray of sunshine, Sam. Funny thing was that I lost my phone that night, and with it your number. I then contacted your assistant, Aunt Lea, whom TOTALLY didn’t believe you’d do anything of the sort, so it took me a good three months to get in contact with you.’

‘Holy crap.’

Phoebe sighed deeply and turned away again, as if wishing to shut out Henry from her thoughts. ‘Yea, it’s been a wild ride.’

‘Wait.’ Henry pushed himself a little closer so he could brush a hand over her shoulder, his eyes searching the curve of her nose and the pull of her lips. ‘Do you regret it? It’s okay if you do. I mean, we’re all out, bums out - besides I can’t remember a thing of the things you just said.’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘No.’ She finally looked back up at Henry, her eyes a lot more warm and welcoming than he had expected. ‘I was already smitten with you before I rang this doorbell to give you the happy news you were about to become a dad...and I’d have kept sweetheart Sam either way the wind would have blown.’

‘Sam..Fixing his dad and all.’ Henry smiled.

‘Gods.’ Phoebe chuckled. ‘That was bad.’

‘Kinda. I’ll need some help with managing that rowdy bunch.’ Henry sighed, feeling Phoebe’s hand reaching out to brush through his curls again - he liked it.

‘I had a good night.’ She said.

Henry looked at her and instantly felt his heart flutter, his stomach dropping and palms going sweaty. It was quite obvious that IF he wanted to make a move, he’d have to do it now. And so, with perhaps a bit too awkward a hastiness, he scooted closer to Phoebe, his black burning eyes staring down into her expecting dark blues.

‘I liked it too. I like YOU..too.’ He breathed, making her eyes also grow darker by the second.

‘Good,’ She whispered, switching her focus between his left and right eye, noses slowly crawling closer to one another until their lips were but a breath away from touching.

‘Can I kiss y..-?’

His words lingered somewhere in between the crashing of their two bodies, Phoebe’s arms eagerly pulling him towards her, her lips savouring the taste of mint tea and musk on his tongue. And as eagerly as they started, so eagerly it to-tal-ly escalated. In moments Henry had flipped her flat onto the couch, his hands scorching the skin on her neck and chest, fingertips teasing and touching whatever piece of flesh her simple black dress revealed.

‘FUCK.’ She whined, turning her head to offer him more neck for him to bite down into.  

Henry growled and lowered his hip, making her feel the eagerness he felt in the tightness of his dress pants, the fabric strained around his crotch.

‘Oh gods,’ Her breath hiccuped and were it not for Henry’s attentiveness, he wouldn’t have picked up on the tears that had started to spill from her eyes, his body immediately pushing back up before he wiped the stray hairs in her face away, worried eyes studying her trembling lips and blurry gaze.

‘I-I’m so sorry.’ She mumbled, turning her head into the couch pillow, wishing to hide from his penetrative gaze.

‘No, no. It’s okay. Sshhh.’ He sat up on his haunches and pulled her with ease onto his lap, his chin pressing down onto her head as she cried into the open V of his shirt, his chest hair wetting with her agony - yep he kept it buttoned down. ‘Sshhh.’ He hushed, pressing more and more kisses into her golden hair. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She whimpered, and it was in that moment Henry hated himself for the way his erection twitched beneath the plush of her thighs, his mind having to focus on anything but her scent and warmth - and failed. Henry failed miserably, Bee’s head starting to shake “no” as she pushed herself off his lap.

‘Fwooo…’ She breathed, focusing on slowing her breath before she looked back at Henry with watery eyes, their bodies separated by the magic of opposing magnetic energy; if Henry tried to come closer, she leaned back and vice versa.

‘Maybe we should give THAT a little more time.’ She chuckled through her tears, the back of her hand wiping away the smudge of mascara that was running down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Henry muttered, feeling like he had failed completely, though thankfully Phoebe could only see the hilarity of it:

‘Guess nothing much has changed in that department.’ She sighed and turned her body back towards him. ‘Is it okay if we sleep apart for a little bit? Just to..-’

‘Calm down?’

‘Yea.’ Her lips curled in a smile.

‘I’m not really used to sleeping with women on the first date anyways.’

Phoebe laughed, poking him in the bicep. ‘OH PLEASE, don’t tell me I was the only one you ever..’

Henry laughed along and shrugged with boyish innocence: ‘Can’t remember, but from what I know, I ...never..’

��Will you go on another date with me though?’

Henry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was pleased with her gentle plea, his hand catching hers to press a sweet and tender promise of a kiss onto the back of her hand. ‘Absolutely.’

--

That night Henry found himself bunking up with a bed full of stuffies, the bed of his 4-year old the only one he could somewhat fit into.

Turning towards the stuffies, he remembered the notes his wife had given him in the past days: Sam had a stuffy named Mr. Stinky, which he had left behind to watch over his other friends while he was away. 

Henry studied the line up of rabbits, elephants, bears and foxes. Which one was Stinky anyways? His wife had said it in between a avalanche of other information, so Henry hadn’t quite managed to catch on like he so wished.

‘Oh..There’s a LOT to learn huh..Mr Stinky? Or ..were you Mr Stinky?’ He looked from stuffy to stuffy, the large beady eyes looking back at him in silence. With a slight smirk on his face Henry pushed his nose into their fluffy bellies, inhaling deeply to find out which one would be Mr. Stinky. But, apparently it was just a name; they all smelled fine.

Rolling onto his back, he switched off the Mario mushroom shaped night light, the ceiling above glowing up with a hundred small stars that had been put up to keep the nightmares at bay.

‘Woa..’ He breathed, feeling his heart flip at the idea that everything about this was real. He had kids. He had..a wife. A family life. And now all he needed to learn was how to fit into his new role. This new ..Henry. And, for the fuck of sakes: if he wasn’t going to jerk off soon, he’d jump his wife before the night was through. It was quite clear how they had never made it to a first date; she simply made his heart and loin ache in a way he had never quite felt before.

Sighing deeply he looked back at the dark row of judgmental beady eyes next to him. He chuckled.

‘Yea...let’s not do that here.’

--

Chap 5 >

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira​ @tillthelandslide @elinesama​

@ceilingfann @do-youseeme

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #memory loss #the accidental family #date night #mild smut #only mild #more like a tiny smidge #but more to come later

[theweasleysredhair]

Decisions, Decisions [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy

Word Count: 1385

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Draco has a choice to make - you or his parents. You have a choice to make - Draco or your friends.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: Angsty angsty angst angst. Hope the requester enjoys!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

You rounded the corner in the midst of your hunt for your boyfriend, wand up at the ready and heart beating fast as you hoped beyond hope that you wouldn’t come across any death eaters or, worse, Draco’s dead body, just as a familiar black haired boy and his ginger best friend sprinted past you. They were barely able to spare you a glance before the boy following them ran straight into your chest.

“Draco! There you are!”

“He’s gone,” the blonde boy replied, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Who’s gone?” You received no reply as you pulled away from him, “Draco, who’s gone?”

“Crabbe. He’s gone. Idiot made fiendfyre... accidentally killed him.”

Your mouth dropped slightly as you pulled him back to you, him nuzzling into your neck as you stroked his back, “Oh Draco... I know you were close to him.”

“I don’t- I didn’t want this. I never wanted this. If-If I’d have known...” he stuttered out, his fist clenching around the hem of your jumper. You shushed him gently, trying to reassure him, “I know, I know... You’ve still got a chance though. Fight for Harry! Fight for Hogwarts - for me.”

He looked up at you through his blurry eyes, his eyelashes sticking together from the tears. “My parents...” he started before you cut him off.

“You need to make a decision... and soon.”

Before he could reply, thunder rumbled out through the hall, as if a storm was passing. Draco reached out and clasped your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly for both you and his sake.

“You have fought valiantly... but in vain,” you heard a voice announce. You shuddered and knew in that instant that you were hearing Voldemort’s voice. Draco gripped your hand harder as the voice continued on, “I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”

You looked at Draco and you both let out a shaky breath.

“Harry Potter, I speak now directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. Should you do so I give my word that no other life will be lost on this night. You have one hour. If, at the end of that time, you have not given yourself up, then I shall punish every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

The hallway shook once again before you’re left with silence.

“Come on... let’s um... let’s go see how everyone is,” you grabbed his hand in yours and began slowly making your way towards the Great Hall, bracing yourself in case you were about to find out you’d lost some of your friends in the battle.

***

You made your way out into the courtyard later that night, swallowing at the sight of blood-stained rocks, the floor strewn with broken wands. Draco followed just behind you, his hand clasped in yours. Carefully, you both made your way around the crowd before you stopped in horror as you saw just how large the group of death eaters were in front of you.

Hagrid, in ropes, stood close to the death eaters and holding a familiar body, suddenly lurched forward as the death eaters holding the ropes yanked him forward.

You glanced over to Voldemort himself, stood towering over everyone, his eyes wide and mouth spread into a thin, sinister smile, then down to the giant snake by his side.

“Who’s that Hagrid’s carrying?” You heard Ginny say from the left of you. Neville, who was stood just in front of her, paused, not saying a word. “Neville, who is that?” She asked again.

Just as Neville opened his mouth to reply, more people began spilling out of the castle. Luna and Seamus... then Cho... Arthur and Ron Weasley... then Hermione.

Hermione drew a sharp breath as she saw the body in Hagrid’s arms and you knew immediately - it was Harry Potter.

“No... NO!” Ginny cried out before trying to rush towards Voldemort. She had taken barely a couple of steps before Arthur grabbed her, holding onto her to ensure her safety.

“Silence!” Voldemort yelled out over the crowd, “Stupid girl... you cry for that?” He gestured to Harry’s limp body still lying in Hagrid’s arms.

He turned back to the crowd, “Tell me. These last few hours - as you collected the dead and tended your wounded - was he by your side?“

At the resounding silence, Voldemort nodded as if he had received an answer, “While your hands ran dark with the blood of mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters, his were clasped in prayer - but it was a prayer for one and one only. While you battled courageously, until you could no longer will yourself to stand, he had long since fallen to his knees. While you cursed me until your voices grew ragged, he begged me for mercy in a voice as meek as a child’s. So do not cry for that. He’s not worthy of your tears. And do not despair of his betrayal. You were never in his heart. Not for one single solitary beat.”

“Liar!” Ron roared, before being forced to his knees painfully by a flick of Voldemort’s wand.

Voldemort gestured to him, “Did you not hear me?! Harry Potter is dead! From this day forward, you put your faith in me or suffer the consequences. HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!” Nagini hissed as Voldemort, raked his eyes over the students and staff, “Now is the time to declare yourself.”

The crowd began murmuring nervously and with a jolt of your heart, you felt Draco drop your hand. You turned your head to look at him but he was staring straight ahead, at the couple stood towards the front of the death eaters. His parents.

Lucius stepped forward slightly, his eyes trained on his son. “Draco!” The blonde man summoned him with a short nod. You watched Draco swallow harshly as his gaze flickered to you then back at his father. Lucius smiled thinly, “Draco, don’t be stupid.”

Draco stood in place, fear and turmoil set on his face. “You don’t have to go, Draco. Stay, stay with me,” you whispered to him. You almost felt the tips of his fingers brush against your own when his mother’s voice carried across the courtyard, “Come, Draco.”

Draco looked into her eyes, then ducked his head and stepped forward hesitantly. “No, Draco!” You called out, going to follow him just as you felt Ron and Neville grip an arm each to pull you back.

Draco faltered briefly, his mouth opening and shutting, looking like he was about to cry as he watched you struggle to get out of Ron and Neville’s grasps. Then he whispered, “Come with me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you stopped fighting to get to him. You looked around at your friends, at Hermione, at Ron. At Neville’s scared face. Over to Harry, lying dead in Hagrid’s arms. To Ginny, to George. To Molly, to Arthur. To Luna, to Seamus, to Dean. To every student you’d be fighting side by side with against the death eaters that stood in formation ahead of you. Then to Draco.

His face was contorted with the emotional pain of having to choose a side, his jaw clenched tightly. You pressed your lips together in a thin line. Then, with tears streaming down your face, you shook your head, “I can’t. I won’t.”

You took and step back, gripping both Ron’s and Neville’s hands in your own.

Draco looked at you helplessly, before glancing over at his parents. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something before it closed again as he gulped shakily.

“I’m sorry,” you thought you heard him whisper, before he turned away.

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision as you blinking harshly to try and push them away.

And with that, you watched as the boy you’d loved for nearly seven years walked away from you without so much as a second glance.

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

[alovesongshewrote]

Whumptober Day 19: Broken Hearts | Reader

Plot:  Part 3!!  Torture!!

Word Count: 3,158

Warnings:  Torture, threats, demons, possession, the demon is a mega asshole still

A/N:  Whump

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

Nari was not having a good time right now.  Her guardians, her protectors were dealing with some massive evil presence, and there wasn’t much she could do other than look for help with Archie.

Archie was also not having fun.  He was supposed to protect Douxie, to look out for him and make sure he was safe.  But now?  Now Douxie was anything but safe.  It was a new kind of horror, the cat-dragon decided, to watch his oldest friend get tortured in his sleep; to watch his skin tear on its own and the blood stain the sheets.  And then he had to leave him.  He had to leave his wizard, his boy, who he had watched over for almost a thousand years, to an uncertain fate.  He trusted you, of course, but this thing, this darkness that haunted you was a force to be reckoned with.  He didn’t want either of you to be hurt more than you already had been.

The two of them ran for a while until they found a payphone, which is literally the luckiest anyone ever gets in this story because those things are almost extinct, and called for help.  After that, all they could do was wait.

You were not doing any better.

You woke up restrained, tied to a kitchen chair with bonds that glowed the same blue as the demon’s eyes.  While this wasn’t the first time this had happened, it was the first time the magic burned.  Wherever it touched your skin an unfamiliar ache took hold.  That was new, it was different, and it hurt enough to make you wince.  The demon was waiting for that.  Now that you were awake, the fun could begin.

“Good morning, darling.”

You groaned a little bit, not wanting to deal with this asshole.  Unfortunately, you had no choice in that matter.

“What’s the matter?  Uncomfortable?”

“Eat a dick.”

The thing snarled, and the expression looked uncanny on your wizard’s face.  It was just so unlike him, and that reminder that he was trapped in there hurt you more than anything this demon could do.  That didn’t mean that the demon wouldn’t try.

It grabbed your face, jerking your head to face him, “Don’t get smart, now.  You don’t want poor Douxie to suffer any more than he has to, do you?”

You bit back a string of insults while trying to escape from the demon’s grasp.  That wasn’t going super well, and it only made the thing tighten his grip.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” you spat, words laced with venom.  The demon was unaffected.

“Do you want him to suffer?”

You stopped struggling and stared at the thing that controlled your boyfriend’s body.  He couldn’t be serious, could he?  Did he actually want you to say it?  

He jerked your face again, pulling it upwards, exposing your neck, “Come on, darling, we don’t have all day.  Just say it, yes or no.”

You stayed silent, incredibly wary of why exactly he would want you to say this.  In your first nightmare, he kept trying to manipulate you, telling you that if you loved Douxie you would die for him.  The situation was too similar for this to be a coincidence.

When you said nothing, the demon sighed, shaking his head.  You felt a sharp pain wherever his fingers made contact with your face.  Claws, you realized, were extending from his hand, carving into your skin and leaving shallow cuts across your cheek.  You gasped, trying to pull back, but that made things worse.  Not only did it give the monster’s talons a better chance to tear your skin, but it let you see the awful mix of demon and man that was this thing’s hand.  Simply put, it wasn’t Douxie’s.  It may have been attached to his body, but these long sharp claws were anything but human.

While you were distracted by that little abomination, the demon drew closer to you.  The hand that wasn’t embedded in your face curled around the chair, effectively boxing you in, not that you had anywhere else to go.  His figure loomed over you, reminding you that you were completely outmatched magically and physically.  You shut your eyes and gritted your teeth as the demon’s lips grazed your ear.

“If you say yes, I’ll let you go.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you turned to face the monster as much as you physically could.  Why the hell would he offer that?  To torture Douxie, probably, but this was too weird.  Before he’d based his attacks on your love for the wizard.  Why now, was he trying to get you to betray him?  You guessed it was because his identity as a demon had been revealed, forcing him to try another tactic, but that didn’t make too much sense if you thought about it too hard.  You knew that he was lying, he would never let you go that easily, the question was why?

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

You remained silent.  You weren’t going to say anything to this guy that wasn’t an insult.

“Well, you can't be blamed for that.  Here, let me show you,” he removed his claws and his hand from your face, allowing you to move your jaw again.  He moved that hand down the length of your body, and as it descended, your bonds loosened a bit and the burning subsided.  The demon pulled away from you for a moment, only to lean over your other side and push a strand of your hair back into place.  You didn’t make a sound.

“I bet you’re wondering why you get this deal,” he ran a clawless hand down your jawline, bringing it to rest on your chest, the same place he had stabbed you weeks ago.  You felt your muscles tense up as he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder.

“It’s because you remind me of my wife.  She had the same spark you do.  I don’t regret draining her, killing her slowly as I stole her power, but,” you could feel the demon smiling against you, as he paused, letting the threat sink in “There are some things I do miss.”

He kissed your neck, making you want to vomit.  You liked it when Douxie kissed you, but even though this was his body, it wasn’t him.  You were relieved when the demon stood, taking a few steps away from you.  You even relaxed for a second before he pulled out the knife.  Silver with a green gem.  It was the blade from your nightmares.

“This was hers once.  She’d never approve of it being used in this way, but she can’t exactly stop me from where she is, can she?”  he came towards you, pushing the point of the blade against your collarbone, “So, what’s your answer, darling?  Yes or no?”

You weren’t saying anything.

And it was pissing off the demon.

“Come on, darling, I’m running out of patience.”

Silence.  From both of you.

But you noticed his grip tighten around the hilt of the blade, his eye twitched, his jaw clenched.  It wouldn’t take much for him to explode.

It took nothing, actually.

“SAY IT!”  he screamed, the blade slicing through your skin, small drops of your blood hitting the wall.  You said nothing, but you could not hide your smirk.  The demon didn’t like that.  He placed the knife against your skin again, getting in your face and growling as he spoke, “Say.  It.”

You smiled then.  This may have been a powerful demon possessing your even more powerful boyfriend, but you were the one in control right now.  You said nothing.

The monster’s face went blank, and you smirked, even as he drove his blade into your chest.  It was enough to hurt, but not to kill.

He waited for you to say something, anything, but you just sat there, grinning.  He moved his blade down to rest against your ribs, demanding that you answer his question once again.  You refused, and the knife ran against your skin, breaking it and drawing blood.

The process repeated a few more times, but you never answered.  At this point, it had moved beyond refusing to respond out of fear.  If he wanted to manipulate you, the time had passed.  This was a game of defiance now, and answering meant surrender.  Answering meant death.

You could tell the demon was growing tired of this game.  Eventually, he threw the knife down and just started hitting you.  When he finished that, you were laughing.  Maybe this was just your way of avoiding the trauma that you would have to deal with eventually.  Maybe it was your way of letting Douxie know you were still there.  Maybe you had gone insane.  Either way, the monster was now slumped over your counter, screaming out of frustration.

Once your laughter had subsided, you leaned back still grinning, “You ruined my shirt.  Just, FYI.”

With a growl, the demon flew across the room, grabbing your throat again, not hesitating to squeeze this time, “You vile little-”

He cut himself off, letting go of your neck and stepping back.  You were already concerned, but the smile that spread across his face really set you on edge.

“Well, you won’t answer me, and you clearly don’t care about your own life,” he picked up the knife, “but maybe, you’ll care about him?”

He brought the blade over his wrist, Douxie’s wrist.  You started to struggle again, panic returning and adrenaline running through your veins.  The demon pushed the point of the knife through his skin, not far enough to cause any lasting damage, but more than enough to scare you.

“What’ll it be, love?”

“I-”

“Answer or he dies!”

“Okay, stop!” you cried, straining against the magic keeping you in place, “Stop it, please, I’ll answer, just don’t hurt him!”

He dropped the knife, grinning at you, “That’s all I needed to hear, darling.  Now, tell me.”

You waited until he was right in front of you.  You had never seen Douxie look so smug.  True, this wasn’t actually him, but it was still a weird experience.  This entire day had been a weird experience.  Your Douxie, the real Douxie, would never hurt you, ever.  He would never lay a hand on you, never swat you away or elbow you in the ribs or touch you when you didn’t want to be touched.  But today, his body beat the shit out of yours for hours.  Fortunately, if you got things your way, that would be over soon.  You tried to stay calm as you followed your plan.

First, you looked into the demon’s cold blue eyes.

Next, you let a few tears fall, trying to look as weak and unassuming as possible.

Then, you gave your answer.

“No.”

You waited for the demon’s response.  He smiled sadly, shaking his head, “I thought you’d say that.”

He drew closer to you, probably going in for the kill.  Whatever, it didn’t matter, what mattered was that he was close enough now for your attack.

Here’s the thing about them bindings.  They only last as long as the one doing the binding is focused on them.  When the demon had his little meltdown, you were able to free one of your hands.  It was only one of four limbs, but it was a good start.  You waited until the demon was in punching distance.

And then you just fuckin punched him.

It felt great.

Not physically, because, y’ know, hours of torture tend to make you feel like shit, but still, it felt nice.  

While the demon took a second to regain his bearings, you made quick work of your other bonds, freeing yourself quickly and getting to your feet.  You almost fell as soon as you stood, but shit, torture will do that to you, and you could deal with it later.  You needed to run first.  

So you did.  You grabbed the nearest weapon and bolted, not out of the apartment, but into your bedroom.  Sure, the demon beat you and Douxie before because you were in his domain, but now you were in your apartment.  It was over for him.  You had the high ground.

Thinking fast, you hid in the closet preparing your weapon, which was an unopened can of something.  Maybe it wasn’t great for melee purposes, but it would make one hell of a projectile.  You waited in the dark until you heard the demon outside.  You didn’t wait anymore after that.

You kicked down the closet door and yeeted the can at your boyfriend’s head.  It was a direct hit!  With a grin, you ran at the demon, tackling it to the ground and rolling away.  While it tried to get up, you slammed your fist into the ground, your magic forming a sigil on the ground and trapping the demon inside.

You stood up, breathing heavy but smiling.  But you weren’t done yet.  You needed to get Douxie back.

“Hey babe, I know you’re in there, and I’m sorry for beating you up.”

The monster growled, lunging towards you only to hit the invisible wall made by your sigil, “SHUT UP.”

You did not do that.  Instead, you kept on talking, “But I need you to come back to me.  I know you’ve been fighting him, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you before, but I can now.”

“STOP THIS!”

“Fight him, darling, you can come back to me, I know you can.”  

Darling.  The word slid off your tongue like you’d been meant to say it all your life.  It just felt right.  It must have felt right to Douxie too because as the demon screamed, the glow of his eyes faded.  Blue turned to hazel, and your boy was back.  Behind him, smoke gathered, but you didn’t care.  Your mans was no longer possessed.  You could not stop the smile on your face as you grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the sigil.

In an instant, his arms were wrapped around you, and yours around him.  You buried your face in his chest, letting yourself relax for a second.  He was shaking and clinging to you as if he feared he would never hold you again.  That was valid.  Today was a traumatizing day for everyone.

You brought your forehead to rest against his, placing your hands on his face, tracing his cheekbones with your thumbs.  He was crying.  So were you.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey.”

You let out a sob, pulling yourself closer to him, “I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he said, repeating those words over and over, throwing in apologies pretty frequently. 

“YOU FOOLS.”

“Oh great, this guy again.” Your voice was muffled, but Douxie still heard you, smiling despite the situation.

“YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS.”

“Sure, Jan.”  Maybe it was the blood loss, but you had decided to be funny.  Also, it pissed off the demon, which was nice.

It growled again and lunged for you, and this time, the sigil flickered and faded, freeing the thing.  The monster had to take a second as he hadn’t expected that to work, but it did, and now you were in trouble.  Again.

Douxie had no time to deal with your delirious ass.  Instead, he picked you up and ran, stashing you in the elevator while he ran up the stairs to the roof.  He managed to beat the beast to the there, grabbing you from the elevator and running to the edge of the building.  He kept you behind him, trying his best to protect you.  The monster burst through the doors, now in its true form.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

“Eh, no, don’t do anything stupid.  We’re in this together,” you grabbed his hand, and smiled.  Maybe you were about to die, but that wouldn’t stop you from being a cute significant other.

“I love you, too, just by the way.”

Douxie shook his head, but he had no choice but to smile back at you.  That’s love children, that’s love.

You stretched out your hand, magic at the ready.  Douxie did the same.  

It was time to fight the demon.

It lunged at Douxie first, and he knocked it to the side with a spell.  It jumped back up, screeching again.  Now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure how your neighbours didn’t hear any of this, but you really didn’t have time to think about it.  The demon was coming for you now.  You dodged the attack, rolling under the monster and striking upwards.  It flew back, nearly falling off the roof, but it pulled itself back up at the last second.

“Hey, babe?  If we knock it off the roof, will that kill it?”

“Not sure, we’ll just have to see!”

Douxie attacked now, fighting off the darkness with flashes of blue.  You joined him, your magic whipping around the creature and throwing it, where else?  Off the roof.  Things looked good for a moment.  

Then the thing rose from the ground, knife in hand, starting in its true form and morphing.  But it didn’t turn into Douxie.  It turned into you.

And then it stabbed Douxie.

“NO!”  the scream tore itself from your throat as you ran at the demon, wrenching the blade from its grip and driving it into the monster’s heart, your heart, over and over again.

When it was dead, your face was wet with tears and blood, both yours and the demon’s.  You dropped the knife, covering your mouth and trying to keep in your sobs.

You felt Douxie’s hand on your shoulder, and you let him help you away from the body.  Neither of you could get far though.  A few minutes later, both of you were on the ground.  Your head was on his chest, his arms were around you.  From here, you could hear his heartbeat.  You wanted to look into his eyes, to make sure they weren’t blue, that this wasn’t a dream, that he was safe and you were safe, and everything was ok.

But his eyes were closed.

You just let your head drop back to his chest, and shut your own eyes.

“We did it, darling,” you whispered, “We’re safe now.  You-you were amazing.   I’m so sorry, Douxie, I’m sorry about all of this,” you gripped onto his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I love you, I love you so much.  Don’t worry, love, help is-help, help,” your words died in your throat as the world around you went black.

//

Even though you’d passed out, help was, in fact, coming.  It just took a while to get there.  

About a minute after you lost consciousness, Nari, Archie, Zoe and Claire burst onto the roof, finding a very dead demon, a dying witch, and an unconscious wizard.

Not a great thing to find tbh.

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