#oh Ares you have another storm coming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jacksprostate · 2 months

Text

One of the lesser known side effects of your condo getting blown up and a lamp lancing through your car like a bullfighter's verduguillo is that when you move to the outskirts of a city and have to rely on the failing public transport system, your commute to work starts to take two hours if you're lucky. Most of the time, I'm not lucky. I leave for work an hour before sunrise and still arrive a half hour late. Coming home is worse.

Public transit could be good. Everyone says it. Tyler tells me, in the future where we've burnt civilization to the ground, we won't need transit at all since the suburban dream will have died and everything you could ever need will live right with you in the nestled bosom of a ruined city. Kudzu vines will let you climb the exposed concrete and rebar until you're twenty stories tall. Stations of gliders, made with the skins of the cattle we keep. We'll need nothing beyond flight radius. There will be streams, broken back out of the pavement and basements, rivulets to ride back home to the shore. The world will close again, small and destroyed and hurting. A seedling.

For now, I ride the bus home.

The later it takes for the bus to show up, the worse the crowd gets. A man with his hand in his pants. The growing smell of piss from another. Someone laid out along the back bench seats, two stops from death. Of course, the fifteen-odd witnesses who won't move a muscle. Avert your eyes and thoughts and path.

Sometimes, when the buses are running especially thin, mid-route the driver will get a call on his radio instructing him to take the B route through another section of downtown. There, we pick up worse.

College students. Young couples. Those nights, this night, I have plenty of young hot things sliming into each other's mouths for the rest of my trip. It's unavoidable. Surround sound. The crinkle of hands gripping through jackets and all the wet smacks mix together with the creaking and squeaking of the bus like it's a roadside motel. I am forced to look at these fresh, vacant twenty year olds and I wonder — how much could one person want to disappear?

You could bring an Armalite AR-180 carbine gas-operated semiautomatic on here. Open carry. Maybe that would make everyone stop. Sit in your seats quietly. Legs together. Follow the implicit rules. Walk home quickly and don't react to any calling. Switch sides of the street as needed to avoid the footsteps behind you, but not so much that the chase is interesting. Ignore how they speed up, you speed up, and you hear two laughs. Oh, the power of a rifle.

When I get to Paper Street, we've entered eternal twilight. The smog crests over us like a dome, blotting out the stars and lowering the atmosphere within reach. Industrial lot lights shine their way to the edges like the stars of the Truman show. Everything smells like ass.

If I called it home, Tyler would probably light it on fire. Between the asbestos and the gallons of water soaked into the house, it'd smolder for months. Our yard is littered with glass, tetanus, and leptospirosis. I've got this ache carving away at my insides, like I took Tyler to work with me and she's been tunneling out.

I open the door, set down my briefcase, and think about the fact that I have to do this tomorrow and the day after and until I die.

She's in the kitchen, in her robe. Tyler has her sunglasses on, she has to barely be able to see me with that gaze. Lit up by the lamps littered through the room like electric storm candles. She's smoking.

Tyler says, "Take off your skirt. I'm tired of seeing that thing."

Vertigo can be associated with presyncope. It feels like you're falling. It feels like you're going to vomit as the failing floorboards split apart and swallow you up.

Tyler says, "I don't know why you bother. We both know how you feel about this." She steps closer, blows smoke in my bloodless face. I wish I could take it on, I wish I could lock us both in an old fridge and infuse us with her breath. With all the soap Tyler makes, she still smells like shit. If she died I'd sleep in her corpse until it faded.

"You flatter me sometimes, psycho girl." Tyler reaches a hand past me, cages me to the door. On the other side, there's the edges of our little set, with the door closed you can't see the dollhouse way the world gives up past a hundred feet. The other hand, it trails down my side like it's made of fire, unbearable and intense. She's looking down, cigarette tugging at her lip, hooded eyes probably tracking how I twitch and jump under her fingers. I can't not look at her. The chip in her tooth. The intensity to her eyes. Her mouth. I'm too loose, I'm going to slip out of her arms and under the door and down the street.

She finds the zipper. Tugs it down, my skirt falls around me like the goddamned Berlin wall. It lies in a limp pile around my legs; she can see my tights. My underwear. She's exposed me. The cavern in me is massive. Yawning.

Tyler stubs out her cigarette on the door and presses me into it, too.

Right by my ear, she murmurs, "You always make me take what you want." Her hands slip around me — gripping my shirt at my shoulder, slipping around to my lower back, my ass — I don't know what to do with mine. I've got them splayed out. I'm staring at the ceiling, her hair half-obscuring it.

Her lips, against my cheek. Brushing, she's making her way back and I know and I'm not ready.

Tyler bites at my lip, pulls it soft and gentle between hers with the same sincerity and focus that she's used to fracture my jaw. My heart at the derby. It's one of those horses running so hard their lungs fill with blood and their organs explode. I open my eyes, I didn't know I closed them, the lights blind me.

Her hand slides up my shoulder, my neck. She's got to feel my pulse. Pile driving. She cups my face, right where she broke it. Tyler directs me into her kiss.

She says, into my mouth she breathes and says, "Let yourself do something, why don't you?"

I know she's looking at me. My eyes fell shut again, I'm trapped in the feeling of her lips on mine but I know she's looking at me, close, half-lidded and intense. Trembling, I ache and creak and try. I try.

Tyler could be eating me, I would still try to feed myself to her.

I'm rewarded with her tongue. On my lips, in my pliant, confused mouth. Volcanic hot springs. Earthquakes, fractures, overflowing. I imagine Tyler and her tongue elsewhere. I make a noise, it's so pitiful you could take it out back and shoot it.

She leans on me, puts her whole body weight on me and the rotten wood miracle holding us up. Her hand slithers out from behind me to grab my wrist. Caught red handed, stricken, full of nothing and twitching.

Tyler slips her thigh between mine, it's pressure so impossibly hard I could cry. I am crying. I'm such a hopeless participant that when she kisses her way to the corner of my mouth and drinks up my tears, I welcome her back all the same. My thighs open up and hug her all the same. I am perpetually the beaten dog, fleeing and running back to its owner.

My other hand, my left, free hand finds its home on her nape. Tangled in her short, greasy hair. Tyler needs to kiss me until the world caves in.

She brings my hand down. A ventriloquist, she kisses me deep and my wooden fingers slip through her bathrobe. The edge of her boxers. I am crying, I am kissing Tyler Durden as she flattens me so I cannot escape this perfect misery as she brings my wooden fingers to her folds and I feel. Wet.

My fingers twitch. It's impulse. It's inverse familiarity. It's feeling, labia minora. Something more. Tyler would have the words for this. She pushes my hand against herself, the meat of my palm against her pubic mound as she devours me. She could do it all herself.

The way it feels, sliding, warm. Warm like my whole body is trapped in between Tyler's thighs. It could be my head. My tongue. My tongue curling around her clit. These images flash through me like full-body phantoms. On my knees, my hands on the sensitive meat of her inner thighs. Like I'm getting buckshot to the chest point blank. Our positions reversed. My tongue in her mouth. My leg between hers. Reload. Her hand, held by mine.

I push my hand against her.

Tyler moans into my mouth.

I push my hand against her, and slide my palm over her clit, her chest flutters against mine. God would kill for this. Tyler is all around me, my index finger is slick and wet with her and it's easy. It's pressing into melted butter.

Tyler's falling apart, Mona Lisa, she's saying nothing and burying me in her lust. There's new tears and they aren't mine. I'm tugging at her hair, she's forcing me into a single point. Singularity.

I have two fingers in Tyler, she's holding me there and I'm arching up into her when she cracks, splitting apart and all over me like an egg. Everywhere. She shoves her face into mine, foreheads together, noses, her shades are off and her mouth is open as she shudders and mixes my breath with hers.

Her other hand lets go, finds its way up to the other side of my face, she's still leaning on me. I'm still keeping my hand on her. I want her to drown it. I feel every shiver. She presses, synchronous, hands down my neck, my shoulders, Tyler buries her face in my hair. Right next to my ear. She bites my earlobe. She lets a hand slip up my shirt. Her hand cups me, I haven't worn a bra since moving in with her, her thumb slides over my nipple. She slips her fingers into my tights.

Her fingers on my bare skin. Tyler puts a palm on me, over the wet patch soaking through my underwear, and her fingers are stuck between my clit and her thigh.

And I wake up.

I'm on the bus.

I'm on the bus, and I'm surrounded by young couples giving each other 9-hour anniversary STDs, and I've soaked through my underwear.

When I arrive at my stop, I walk for fifteen minutes to get to Paper Street. There's a hot, heavy mist beading on my skin. Thickening my breath. It's fat with the fart smell of paper processing and rich in heavy metals.

I open our door. It barely stays in its frame, sort of opening like a twice-hinged, fully-sized, single-doored saloon.

Tyler's in the kitchen, in her robe. She's smoking.

She stares at me through her sunglasses.

I set down my briefcase. I stand there, and she still smokes.

She's looking through me. She's seeing all my stains.

Tyler expects something of me.

Her eyes track me, all the way up the stairs. all the way to my room, to my moldy mattress. They see me shower in brown-red water and scrubbing furiously on my clothes. They see me wide awake, waiting for the bus the next morning.

I am always failing Tyler.

#fight club #female fight club au #my writing #ohhhh my god #fuck #sobbing #idk what to say #i ended on the same line as another f fc ficlet i wrote. because it still applies. fuck you chuck gets to repeat things so do i idk #finishing this literally gave me a headache. i have problems #inspired by lalikeslichto's drawings

70 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Hello, can you imagine where you are the girlfriend of Klaus and a werewolf and they love each other very much and when they travel together to New Orleans the witches kidnap you and tell you that you are pregnant (hope) and when Klaus finds out he gets angry and says things horrible and leaves you to get killed (basically chapter 1 of the originals) so you, scared and thinking that Klaus would kill you, contact your friend bonnie to break the link with sophie and you manage to escape, and when klaus he realizes what he did, is very sorry for what he said and returns with Elijah to the witches to see that you disappeared and the witches tell him that you escaped, which leaves Klaus heartbroken, on a mission to find the love of his life and his daughter.

You’ve lost your girl

Pt 2 Pt3

I was sat on the dirty floor of the grounds of a witches cemetery thing with an overly confident group if bitches.

Elijah was stood in the doorway quietly conversing with the one called Sophie, his facial expressions giving away nothing as he glanced over to me, i nodded my head with a sarcastic smile and thumbs up making the corner of his mouth twitch.

Honestly, what the fuck was this. I’ve been sat here in the dark for like a week, minimal food and water and the only conversation was

“i can’t believe that we’re letting that beast have a child”

which resulted in somebody having a broken nose and my hands being tied up and behind my back. Thankfully Elijah had demanded that they undid them, they did so without question.

Now we were just waiting for Klaus

Elijah approached me slowly, a look of bewilderment on his face, weird he’s showing emotion but okay

“it’s true…” he whispered, okay he was kinda freaking me out

“‘Lijah there is no possible way that i am pregnant, he’s literally a vampire, half wolf or not he’s still dead” he shook his head instantly

“i can hear it’s heartbeat” he muttered lowering himself to get closer to me, his hand reaching out to hover over my stomach

“no…that can’t be right…he’s dead” we locked eyes silently arguing before he took my hand with a sigh

“he is only half dead y/n, this is happening and we will all be here for you should you decide to keep it…even if you do not, we will still support you, i can give you my word on that”

“oh god Klaus, he’s not going to believe it is he? He’s going to think i slept with someone else or something- Oh my god Elijah i swear to god i did not, you know that right?” both our eyes were wide as he nodded vigorously

“i know that, Niklaus wouldn’t think that, he loved you and he knows you love him, come let’s get up and wait together”

and so we waited

and waited

eventually he turned up, and we both stood there watching as he threatened every witch in the room before turning his attention to us

“it’s a lie” was all he said but Elijah was quick to destroy that thought

“you can hear the heartbeat Niklaus” he sighed watching the rage build in his brothers eyes, softening for a split second before hardening once more

“you’ve been with somebody else!” he yelled, an accusatory finger pointing at me, my mouth opened to speak but he was already storming towards me, hovering over me in a threatening manner

“i brought you into my house, gave you my love and my loyalty and you do this!? You think that i or anyone else in my family will accept you and another mans child? You will not be welcome, not now and not ever.”

Tears streamed down my face silently as i took in his hateful glare, there was not an ounce of love evident, if this was the first time you saw this man, you would fear for your life and run.

My heart hurt, i could faintly hear Elijah trying to reason with Klaus. My own breathing was all i could hear, a quiet ringing in my ear echoing through my head. Muffled yelling was all i heard until suddenly there was a silence and they were gone. A very pitiful Sophie stood in-front of me, for the first time in a week she hasn’t looked annoyed or angry at me

“i know that you are trying to save your coven but can i borrow your phone real quick? if you’re going to kill me before Klaus does i need to say goodbye to someone” i whispered, my voice breaking when i said his name. Hesitantly she nodded and handed me her phone unlocked

“i’ll give you a moment alone” she smiled slightly before walking out

stupid.

I rushed through the phone calling the only number i could remember from someone in Mystic Falls

“who is this?” Caroline asked from the other side and i sighed in relief

“Care, it’s y/n. I can’t explain right now but i need Bonnie like immediately, please say she’s with you?” i spoke quietly glancing around the room. I heard some shuffling before the phone was passed about

“Hey whats wrong?” Bonnie, thank fuck for Bonnie Bennet.

“You know i love you and i wouldn’t ask you to do something unless it was absolutely necessary right?”

“what’s wrong? are you hurt?” she asked hurriedly

“can you do an unlinking spell from there? Im in New Orleans, pregnant and linked to a witch. I need to get out and get to you guys and i will explain everything but i need you to do this right now, my time window is small” i rushed heading approaching footsteps

“get out now, i’m doing it as we speak you just need to get out, just run, get a cab. If you don’t have money say you’ll pay when you arrive, straight to my house yeah?”

“thank you” i whispered before hanging up.

My footsteps were fast as i bolted for the exit, shoving the witch who tried to grab me and making a run for the busy streets. Pushing my way through the crowds until winding up in a cab praying that Bonnie had done it in time.

My fingers drummed against my thigh as i watched the car pull up outside Bonnies. Both her and Caroline cane running towards it with concerned faces. I was safe.

———————————————————————

(third person)

Klaus and Elijah were aggressively throwing each other around, clothes torn, hair a mess and supernatural faces on display

“Y/n would never do that to you and you know it! You’re a coward and a pathetic excuse of a man, you will step up to be the father you longed to have. Do not abandon this child!” Elijah demanded while flinging Klaus as a nearby wall

“That child is not mine! I will not sit by and watch the women that i love fawn over another mans baby! I will not be her option! I cannot have children, I cannot procreate, we know this! Rebekah had searched for centuries to see if it were possible! I can’t, i mentally can’t sit there and be a happily family with her when she has slept with another, she is meant to be mine!” he cried, tears slipping past his glossy eyes, rage, confusion and devastation mixing together

“Niklaus you are half werewolf, you have only recently unlocked this side to yourself. Y/n is also a werewolf, together you are far more likely to conceive a child. You know that one of her first fears was that you would accuse her of cheating on you? She was afraid you would do the very thing that you did. She loves you as much as you do her, do not loose somebody who finally loves you unconditionally, she was willing to move away from her family, live with us, a group of original vampires. For gods sake Niklaus, Kol tried to kill her the first time he knew her to be a wolf, Rebekah was instantly mad that another women was in the house but she stayed for you. She got to earn our trust for you. She would never hurt you.”

Klaus and Elijah both stood breathing heavily as Elijah watched his brothers mind run. Silence followed them as they returned to the witches for Klaus’s love.

All the witches looked like they were ready to sprint, eyes wide and the scent of fear heavy in the air

“where’s Y/n?” Elijah asked warily watching as Klaus searched the few rooms

“uhm- she sort of-“

“escaped. She’s gone and unlinked, we’ve lost our leverage and you’ve lost your girl”

within seconds nearly every witch was dead.

Throats torn, heads missing, blood everywhere.

Elijah didn’t dare intervene his brother. Every emotion crashed over in such a small amount of time as he threw anything he could whether it be objects or people. His voice bounced off the walls as he yelled a jumble of “she thinks i hate her” , “she’s gone” , “she’s never going to forgive me” , “she’s pregnant” and “my child is gone”

Eventually Klaus somewhat calmed down and immediately dragged his older brother to the car beginning to drive back to Mystic falls, it’s the only place she could be and he needed to find her before she got away again.

439 notes · View notes

idontknowwhatimdoinglol · 6 months

Text

Blood of Zeus characters at the store

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(a special thanks to the amazing @randomfangirl2718 for helping me come up with this <3)

lets do this :)

Zeus: *holding heron up to a walmart screen*

Hermes: *taking a picture of the oh so touching moment*

Apollo: *laughing his butt off behind her hermes*

Dionysus: ITS THE CIRCLE OF LIFEEEEE

Artemis: *shaking her head in shame* I do not know any of them. I do not know any of them.

-----

Heron: why are we here again?

Artemis: because hera needs more bird seeds to feed her pets and we are running low on snacks *she eyes apollo and ares*

Ares: i apologize, but apollo had challenged me and i will not back down from such an easy challenge of eating.

Apollo: if it was so easy then why did you lose *he teases*

Ares: lies! of course i beat you

Apollo: well since its unclea how about another challenge? i challenge you to lift the heaviest weight in the store

Artemis: apollo no-

Apollo and Ares: *runs off*

Artemis: why cant they listen for once. *she groans*

-----

Random store clerk on the p.a: Zeus, please come to the front of fthe store to retrive your delinquents.

Zeus: *goes to the front*

Apollo: *turns his head in shame*

Hermes: we can explain this time we had good reasons

Zeus: those are?

Everyone: *silence*

Zeus: alright we'll deal with this when we get home. where is artemis and heron?

Random store worker: are these the two your looking for? *gestures to an annoyed artemis and a wet heron*

Zeus: ....yes

Heron: we wanted to free the lobsters.

Artemis: he wanted to free the lobsters *she grumbles*

Dionysus: cool! we stole wine.

Apollo: ..we broke half the shelves in the store

Random worker: youre all never welcome to shop here again you realize that right?

-----

Artemis: ok everyone, since we got banned from the last store for wine stealing, lobster freeing, shelf breaking reasons *she side-eyes her brothers* let's not do that this time.

Everyone: *nods and runs off*

Artemis: this is going to end badly isnt it?

Ares: has going out with them ever ended good?

-----

*in the stores garden section*

Artemis: sometimes i just dont get why they cant understand that they have to follow rules even if they are gods, you know i appreciate this alot. its hard to find someone who just listens *she pats the squirrel on the head.

Daphne: look at all of these beautiful flowers hyacinthus.

Hyacinthus: they are very pretty

Random person: ya, to bad they throw the ones they dont sell out. *walks away*

Daphne: we have to save these flowers! *she starts grabbing the flower boxes*

-----

Hermes: can you beilive they just give out free food here?

Dionysus: i know right! its awesome!

Hermes: that stand over there is selling wine sample's

Dionysus: ya, to bad its only one cup per person. *gets a look* unless...

Hermes and dionysus: *runs through the store with the wine tray and open bottle*

-----

Apollo: so you see if you just apply the darker shade of tanner then youll be beach ready in no time *he says to random people looking at tanner*

Apollo: dont you agree heron? *blank space where heron was* this is why we need a leash for him *he grumbles*

Heron: *lost somewhere in the store*

-----

Evios: *sneaks a small item in his pocket*

Kofi: *takes the item and puts it back on the shelf*

Evios: seriously? That is the 20th time man

------

Alexia: *sees a punching dummy*

Alexia: *starts practicing*

Radndom people: *stares at her*

Alexia: what? It's what it's for.

-----

Zeus: *flirting with some girls*

Hera: *death glaring the girls*

aphrodite: Hera, you mustn't glare at those girls. they do not know that he's married. it's not that big of a deal

hera: oh really? so it's alright with you that Ares is doing the same thing?

Aphrodite: *angrily storms off to yell at the girls near Ares*

-----

Artemis: we're gonna have to find a new store aren't we? *she drinks her pop*

Ares: we knew that the second we walked in

Aphrodite: *screaming in the background*

- - - - - - - - - - . o 0 O 0 o .- - - - - - - - - - -

#boz zeus #blood of zeus #boz #bloodofzeus #bloodofzues #heron boz #seraphim boz #hermes boz #boz apollo #boz ares #greek mythology headcanons #grreek mythology #greekmythology #blood of zeus x reader

93 notes · View notes

curiouser--and--curiouser · 6 months

Text

“Is it over? Is it really over?” | Mark Watney x Reader

Fictober 2023 Day 24 - “Is it over? Is it really over?”

Mark Watney x Reader

Warnings: making out, occasional swearing, use of Y/N, Matt Damon (Matt I hate you and your use of slurs, but why do you keep showing up in my favourite films? 😫)

A quiet day is usually hard to find at NASA, but since the rescue of stranded astronauts Mark Watney and Y/N L/N from Mars, things had certainly calmed down as the Hermes ship continued its almost year-long journey back to Earth, safe and sound.

Instead of calculating trajectories and plotting courses, the scientists at NASA now had a slightly more chilled job of combing through the hundreds of video logs made by the pair of astronauts during their time of exile. As soon as they arrived at the Ares IV MAV, the high-bandwidth connection on board was used to upload the diaries to Earth, to chronical their time on the red planet, but also provide the memory of their final living days in case the worst occurred during their rescue mission.

Thankfully, the worst did not happen.

Vincent Kapoor and Mindy Park now crowded around an office computer scanning the videos for any important information they missed to be filed away for NASA’s future space missions. Annie Montrose kept an eye on them and the screen over their shoulders for anything she might be able to release to the public who continued to clamour for anything about life on Mars.

“Our own employees shit-talking the scientists of NASA and their advice to help save their lives maybe shouldn’t be broadcast to the world,” Annie lamented as Mindy shut off another video where Mark whined about an army of botanists trying to micro-manage his potatoes with a new growing technique and Y/N complained about the demanding engineers who critiqued her repairs on the rover and quote “wouldn’t know a wrench if they sat on one”.

“Self-awareness can be a refreshing approach for a government agency,” suggested Vincent, sarcastically, rubbing his eyes from the glare of the screen. Mindy laughed as Annie launched a pen at Vincent’s head in annoyance as she clicked on the next video. It began with Mark alone on the screen.

xxx

“So, nothing has caught fire in 15 sols, I think that’s a new record for us,” Mark always managed to sound cheerful on his video diaries no matter the situation. He could be smoking from an explosion, arm falling off and in the middle of a claustrophobia-induced argument with you, but still have a boyish smile on his face.

You couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck on Mars with. His constant witty narration and array of new bold ideas to keep you both alive braved your unfathomable storms, even when you were close to giving up on ever returning home.

No wonder you fell for him.

And he fell for you too.

Some would say being stuck on a deserted planet with your crush would be a dream. Maybe not a dream, but the constant close quarters did force you both to admit your burgeoning feelings for each other and begin your relationship. Sure, the adrenaline-fuelled trauma bonding and distinct lack of personal space at all times sometimes felt like a wall, your patience with each other and resolve to overcome triumphed.

“Y/N should be back soon,” Mark continued, “it’s been pretty goddamn quiet without them here. I hope they get back soon, I’ve started talking to my potato plants again… Y/N, please come back soon.” You had been on a multi-Sol test-drive of the rover, trying to gently push its limits before the long pilgrimage that was to come. Mark loved your commitment to the rover, how you cared for it like your child - both your child - but all he wanted now was for you to return, safe and back in his arms.

Mark continued his daily report diligently - so diligently, in fact, that he was completely unaware of your early return back to the Hab.

All that could be seen on the screen was his eyes suddenly snapping to the side and widen with a gasp.

“Oh my God.”

In an instant, he was up and completely gone from the camera, but soon he returned, locked in a heated embrace with you.

You both crashed and clattered into the wall of the Hab; you straddling his thighs with your dusty suit rolled down, exposing your torso, and him laid almost completely flat on his desk chair, pulling you into him with all the force of a lonely lover finally reunited. Your lips moved with a frantic speed, making up for lost time, as your weathered and slightly dirty hands threaded through his hair. He clutched and squeezed all over your curves as he whispered affirmations of “God, baby, I missed you”, “fuck, I was so worried”, “I love you so much” between kisses.

Mark eventually broke away, only for a second, remembering in a panic that the computer was still recording. It took all his might to pull away from you, but you launched back in immediately, planting sloppy kisses down his neck. His eyes started to roll back with a sigh on his lips and his hand fumbled around for the computer’s off switch.

xxx

In all their years, the NASA employees had never been more shocked.

A simple briefing log quickly descended into softcore porn. But it was so hard to look away.

Mindy had her hands covering her eyes, but still secretly peeked between her fingers; this was by far the most interesting briefing she had ever been a part of.

“Is it over? Is it really over?” she asked worriedly from behind her hands. She got no response from Vincent who simply looked ahead, stunned and silent, no words to wipe their memories of what they just saw. An exasperated sigh sounded from Annie, her brow pinched within an inch of its life.

“No one release that one to the public.”

61 notes · View notes

sweetwriter · 2 months

Text

Oh To Love

by Sweetwriter

I often feel like Hephaestus, the throwed away one; the ugly one; the crafter. People only care about the craft and never the crafter.

I write this story, as a manifestation of a love I would like to receive.

Hephaestus!Reiner x black reader (at certain points)

this chapter and a couple other chapters are going to be build ups to the love story of Reiner x YN

Heads up: abandonment, self hate, rejection, shame, angst, fluff, maybe smut (later) idk, happy ending :)

This story is based off the poem by Nikola Gill the story of Hephaestus

“He is dismembered! He will bring shame to my womb”

Hephaestus hears this conversation, ears pressed against the marble doors. Looking down at his legs, they didn’t look different to him- I guess it should make sense that the rest of the Pantheon just chooses to completely ignore him. He thought that it was the fact that he wasn't as confident as his brother, Ares or well loved like his half brother, Heracles; nor was he wise like his half sister Athena. But, he thought that people did not mind, he is still young finding his way.

“You know it is rude to eavesdrop, Hephaestus.” He turns around to see Aphrodite, his aphrodite. He had loved her for as long as he has known what love was.

“They are talking about my appearance again. How come they never talk about my projects- the very crown she has on her head is a design I created.” He sighs. It has been a time where Hephaestus has conceded that he is gifted in crafts work. He often spent time mining near volcanoes to search for precious gems he will use for his next project. It is nearing his birthday, no one really remembers, so he decided to make a gift for himself.

“Appearances are everything to an Olympian, we are perfect beings, when one is imperfect, what will that do to the Pantheon” she says softly. Hephaestus notices she often does that, she is harsh with her words and soft with her voice, it does not stop the sting, instead it prolongs it. He is use to the harsh tone. Soft tones are tattooed in his mind forever, for how can forget kindness. But as he grows, he questions whether softness is equivalent to kindness.

“He looks like a beast because of your transgressions, whoring your love out to whatever you please but your wife. You have put shame on me, and I refuse to accept such thing as a son of mine.” Hera shouted, All Hephaestus saw was his mother storming his way with anger in his face, “mother, what are you” that was all he remembered.

As he fell that day, all the pain and suffering settled in his chest; The humiliation of being discarded. “Who would want me if Olympus does not desire my presence?” Hephaestus questioned himself for hours as he fell. All the pain and suffering marinating into his bones, the agony wearing down his godly bones.

He spent his 14th birthday falling from his godliness. His age progressed and his pride of being Olympian diminished.

When he hit the ground his heart rate picked up speed. Gods can not get hurt or feel pain, they say. The agony of falling must’ve weakened his goldy pride because when he fell. Everything held dearly, fell along with that: the pride of being his parent’s child, to be the sibling of all he cares for, the love of another.

He felt as if his immortal life was over, that there was nothing that he needed to look forward to, all he had to do was aimlessly wander the earth. What he did not expect, was when Hephaestus was thrown off of Olympus and to the mortal realm, he experienced something he had never experienced, love.

A/N: HANBDJBFSB sorry it took me so long to get back to writing, I wanted to write all the parts out and then post them individually. I feel less stressed when all the parts are already saved and such. But yeah- leave notes or feedback or anything. maybe even some other mythology x anime ideas. Let me knooooowww

with love,

sweet writer

#imagine #fanfiction #black reader #my writing #attack on titan #angst #reiner x y/n #aot x black reader #anime fanfiction #anime x black!reader #reiner x reader #fluff

22 notes · View notes

late-to-the-magnus-archives · 7 days

Text

Revelations, Part One - a Malevolent fic

A quiet confrontation.

A painful revelation.

A glimpse of fallout to come.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

----------

Faroe saw it all. Saw it happen. Saw the knife slice through something, and saw the golden spark that was Sunny flying up from Parker’s body and almost lost. (“Normally, one has moorings,” Hastur explained as she cried that night, clinging to him. “Soul moorings, keeping one’s body attached to one’s soul. But Parker has none. I’ve never seen anything like it. Sunny is keeping him anchored. Sunny is the reason he’s alive. So.”)

So. When Sunny was severed, they had both gone… away.

Had almost gotten away.

Until Dis.

“I want to know how they got in,” Hastur was snarling to his people, his rage flickering red through his gold robe and across his white mask like lightning. “How? How were they there? In my very fucking throne room?”

Heads were going to roll, one way or another.

“But what happened?” said Arthur again, because he just didn’t understand, because who could?

Parker was in no condition to answer. “Come on, bud,” he kept saying, and tears slid down his cheeks, and he rubbed his jaw, and his lips. “Come on.” He hitched and wiped his face on his arm. “Come back to me. Come on.”

Sunny was there.

Sunny was quiet. Inert. Unresponsive.

“Parker,” said Arthur, trying again.

Parker wouldn’t talk to Arthur. Or anyone, right now. “Leave me the fuck alone!” he snapped, and returned to trying to coax Sunny to respond.

Arthur was blaming himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. They came for me. I’m so sorry, oh gods.”

“Shut the fuck up! This isn’t about you! Sunny. Come on, lover. Come on. Come back.” Parker wiped his face again.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Arthur.

Which was when Parker turned around and socked him right in the jaw.

It turned into shouting over absolutely nothing, vague accusations, and the two men finally storming in different directions.

All Odd could think, in the wake of total chaos, was that he’d have to write a song about this clusterfuck eventually. Right now, though, other things were needed. “Come on,” said Odd, trotting after Arthur, one hand on his shoulder to support, to comfort, to ground. “He needs some time. You’re okay.”

“He’s wrong. It is about me. This happened because of me,” Arthur hitched, head down, visibly seconds from collapse.

“Oh, quit it,” said Odd as though Arthur didn’t sound devastated. “Did you hire the guy? Did you arm them? Stop it. This is their fault, not yours.”

Arthur hugged himself.

“John still quiet?” said Odd, softly.

“Yes,” said Arthur.

John was quiet, but not inert.

John was…

I can’t right now. That was all he would say.

The whole palace went on lockdown, and all guests and travelers (with the exception of Dagon) found themselves and their goods outside—with tents, if they really wanted to stick around—until the guilty party (?) was located.

Deep in the palace, in the windowless war room, Dis awaited her fate.

Dis did not run. She wanted to. That was on her face, in her body-language. Dis did not run, but waited for Hastur to come to her and discuss what happened.

Hastur entered, silent, still buzzing with rage, and hovered before her.

She just looked up at him. There really wasn’t any point in pretending she couldn’t meet the gaze of a Great Old One now.

“So,” he said, low.

“So,” she said, and crossed her arms.

“What the fuck just happened?” said Hastur.

She raised her chin. “That fucking knife was an obsidian core with that new shit the Mi-go are working with. The thing they call ‘amethyst-born,’ made from minerals of the Dark World. So. It cut Sunny loose.”

“That is not all it did,” said Hastur evenly. “And not why I am questioning you now.”

She swallowed.

“You caught them,” he said. “You caught his soul in your hand.”

“Yeah,” she said, challenging.

“Peace.” He raised one hand. “I am angry, but not with you. How did you do that?”

She sighed and leaned forward, resting on her arms. “I probably have to leave after this.”

He waited.

“I put him back,” she said.

“You… put him back,” he repeated.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms again in denial of impossibility.

Hastur sighed. “It’s not as though I’ve ever thought you were human.”

“I have a lot of human in me,” she said, defensive.

“Dis.”

She set her jaw.

“Just tell me what I have hired to keep my daughter safe. That’s all. That’s all I’m asking. I have time for fuck-all else right now.”

Well, that was unexpected. Dis peered at him. Hastur was pristine. All those appearance spells were just… hard to look at, though. She sighed. “There’s… something… I have….”

He waited.

Her look was raw. “Too many generations to count. No familial contacts to pull in. Okay? It means nothing.”

He waited.

“Death has a little sister,” she said, and apparently that was all it took.

Hastur floated back, away from her, staring. “I’d assumed the name was… incidental.”

“It’s not.” She shrugged. “Second child gets some soul shaping skill every time. I don’t know why. And if generations go by with only a first-born, it doesn’t show up.”

“You have some of the powers of Death,” said Hastur quietly.

“You saw what powers I have,” she snapped.

“A descendent of Death’s own sister,” said Hastur thoughtfully.

She pointed one finger at him. “No.”

“No?” he said. “No? ”

“No. Whatever you’re thinking. I do my job here. As I’ve been hired to do. I don’t want anything to do with the rest of that. No plans, no schemes, no, How can I use this? bullshit. Listen to me, oh Lord of Carcosa. If you do anything like that, I’m out. I’m gone. I care about Faroe, and I want her safe, but I will not sacrifice my freedom to do it.”

Hastur sighed slowly.

She waited.

“Had you done this any other time…” he said.

She waited.

“Fine,” said Hastur. “This is… yes. You’re right. I want to dig into it. I want to use you. I want to test your blood. There are so many things I want to do, but I have no time, and at the moment, I am far more interested in the fact that you can keep my daughter alive.”

“I’m not supposed to…” She stopped.

“Do what you did? I am hardly going to tattle,” he said, and his tone had gone warm, a little playful, distinctly manipulative.

“Don’t,” she warned.

“What do you want to keep you around when I am gone?” he said, suddenly blunt.

“Excuse me?”

“When I am gone, what will it take to keep you by her side?”

Dis laughed.

He waited.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she said. “I’m out! I’m done! An Outer God is coming, and you think I’m going to stick around?”

“He is coming for me.” His volume dropped. “For me. Not her, not them, not Carcosa. Me. My daughter will need you.”

She made a frustrated sound and rubbed her face. “I don’t have an answer for you. Not now.”

“Please.”

She stared at him over her fingertips.

He waited.

“Not. Now,” she said. “I need to think.”

“Thank you.” He accepted that as if it were some great compromise, gifted.

She eyed him. “This is really fucking you up, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

Hastur floated there for a moment, and then he fled. Floated right out, leaving the door open, not so much as a golden sparkle in his wake.

Dis flopped back on the settee. “Whaaat the fuck is going on?” she mumbled, and stayed there until her heart rate slowed back down.

Parker sat under the balcony of his bedroom, hip-deep in dead leaves, and tried again. “Sunny. Come on. Come on, baby. I know you can hear me. I’m not giving up on you. Come on.”

Nothing.

He couldn’t eat any more. He’d tried every flavor he could think of. Even those fucking soap-leaves Sunny liked so much. Nothing worked.

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t give up. “Come on, bud. I’m here. I’m not leaving you. Come on.”

Nothing.

He covered his face with his hands.

Faroe felt sick.

She’d tried so hard to keep anything from happening to anyone. She’d fought, and trained, and given up sleep; she’d been smart, and listened, and obeyed and learned. It hadn’t been enough.

Some tiny part of her knew this wasn’t her fault, but at the same time, it felt like it was. Gokar’luh was her fault (wasn’t it, really?), and now…

Parker wasn’t around. Dad probably knew where he was, but he wasn’t saying, too focused on trying to figure out how the enemy got inside. Arthur was…

He hadn’t cried like this since she was little. Seeing it again brought memories back, and though they hadn’t been any big deal at the time (Arthur always cries, she recalled saying to Nibbles), now, it was… horrible.

Arthur cried all the time. He’d stopped for a while, yes, gotten better, but it seemed that had been broken, too.

Somehow, she felt like it was her fault. She hadn’t been… enough. Strong enough. Smart enough. Something enough.

The palace was so damned empty with everyone in tents outside the gates.

She wandered, alone, aware of its raw size more than she’d ever been. Had it always been this big? Had she always been this small?

There was no one. No one around, and that was fine. The shame…

This had to be her fault. It felt like her fault. So she walked in the dark, with Nibbles at her side, and cried.

She didn’t realize someone was there until he spoke. “Hey, little lady,” said Dagon very quietly. “You okay?”

“No!” she cried, and flung herself at him.

He caught her up, adjusting his size on the fly so she could lean against his chest without being swallowed completely in his arms. “There’s a lotta rumors.”

“Everything went so wrong,” she sobbed.

Nibbles butted his leg.

“Yeah, you too,” he said, and grabbed the goatling up. “Right. Tell Uncle Dagon about it. Right now. Okay? Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t,” she said, barely audible.

“Dunno ‘til we try,” he said.

Nibbles rested her head on Faroe’s knee.

Faroe found herself talking, or trying to. It felt like she couldn’t get any words out that meant anything real.

He seemed to understand anyway, for whatever reason, and grew deeply, quietly pensive. “Mm,” he said, his eyes shadowed by his furrowed brow.

Whatever he was thinking, right now, he kept it to himself, and that was good. He let her cry herself out, and finally fall into an exhausted sleep, without having to do anything or please anyone or explain anything at all.

“Think it’s time I had a talk with her dad,” Dagon said quietly to Nibbles. “There’s this group… well. You’ll hear it. Let’s go together,” he said, and—walking carefully so as not to wake the princess—went to find her father.

Hastur couldn’t find the hole. His defenses remained completely untouched, unscratched, pristine. There was absolutely no answer as to how the fuck this happened.

Yang was still hiding under his damn balcony, out of sight. Fine. Arthur…

Arthur was talking with Odd, or at least being with Odd, silent. Fine. Hastur wanted to… to…

He wanted to comfort his own. He had no fucking time.

He flew past their room, hearing Odd singing softly in there, the same kind of sad, comforting music he’d heard the other night—gently prying open the heart, letting infection bleed out.

Good. Good. They’d be all right. They had to. John seemed fine?

John… seemed weird, but there was no time.

Something had gotten through his defenses. His best defenses. So. He had to do more. Somehow.

He didn’t know how to do more than he already was, and flew around his palace, then around his city, doubling, tripling protections, which was pointless because anything that could bust through what he already had could bust through the same thing twice over, but what else could he do?

He could move Carcosa, so he did, stranding quite a few dignitaries and merchants, but whatever. They were only a day from Celephaïs. They’d be fine.

(He’d bribe them later when they bitched about it, so. Again. Whatever.)

After five hours, he found nothing. No hint of anything strange at all, with one exception: in his throne room, right smack dab center on the seat of his throne, was a pink, plastic hair curler.

That was weird as fuck, and it terrified him. This didn’t exist here. There was no plastic. There was no pink that shade. Nobody used these.

He didn’t dare touch it himself, but had a Dancer carry it away to flick it from a window, letting it fall to the wilderness below.

He hadn’t landed the city anywhere yet. Nowhere felt safe.

He wasn’t sure what to do. What he could do. Allies? Maybe; but what if one of them was behind this?

The lizard had been identified: a minor prince, though that prince’s father was a known asshole. He’d never quite allied with Hastur, but hadn’t quite rebuffed him, either—a cautious, insulting game, kept at arm’s length. Well, one thing was for sure: Thesia was a dead land. They didn’t know it yet, but they were. By the time he was done, Sarkomand would seem like a fucking day at the beach.

“Hey,” said Dagon.

Hastur looked up and found this particular ally in possession of his daughter and her goat.

For just one moment, he nearly lost it. Nearly just attacked, insane, paranoid, desperate to get her out of harm’s way, but… she wasn’t in harm’s way. She was curled on one enormous bicep, soundly asleep, tear-tracks on her face, eyes and nose both red.

Seeing her like that wrenched his hearts so badly that he gripped his chest, half sure they were all tearing in two.

Nibbles made one soft sound.

“Yeah,” Dagon agreed as though he understood that. “Hastur. I got something for you.”

“My daughter,” Hastur growled.

Dagon seemed to understand his condition and didn’t take the growling personally. “She needs some help you can’t give her, but I might know who can.”

“What?” Panic now, digging sharp claws into the cracks his hearts already bore. “What? What’s wrong?”

“She’s got…” Dagon paused, visibly trying to find words. “Human hurts. Her mind. Her soul. They don’t deal with shit like you and me, Hastur. You know that.”

“Of course I know that!” Hastur snapped. “I studied. I made sure her entire life is shaped so she can handle it!”

Dagon sighed. “She needs more’n that.”

Hastur sat down. Settled on the ground, in a nest of his own limbs, and stilled. “What does she need that I have not given her?” he said in a hollow voice.

“People who been through what she has,” Dagon said. “I know this group. I know ‘em because sometimes, my kids gotta go there, too. It’s… it’s kids of gods. No affiliation, no national borders, no… political bullshit. Just kids who’ve been through shit, mostly thanks to their parents and all the shit we get up to. They help each other. I think it might do her good to go.”

Hastur had no frame of reference for this. “I don’t understand.”

“Me neither, honestly,” said Dagon, and shrugged. “But my offspring swear by it. I think it might help her.”

“It… is a permanent thing?” said Hastur quietly.

“Eh? No, she wouldn’t move out. They just… they get together at the Scriptorium and talk, and they get better because they did. It’s fucking human.”

Fucking human. Faroe was fucking human, as much as he tried to elevate her beyond. And she was beyond, yes, he held to that belief, but… she was fucking human, too.

Maybe she did need this. It didn’t sound like something he could give. “They’re safe?”

“Been going on for years. Never had a single incident, far as I know,” said Dagon. “Your spooky librarian friend runs the place, though I hear she’s not involved directly.”

Hastur shook. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Anyway, I got her. You do what you gotta do.” And just like that, he carried her away. Nibbles glared over Dagon’s massive shoulder as if daring Hastur to concede.

Hastur had a rare moment of introspection, of truth: if he did this, let her go and find comfort in this group of people that had nothing to do with him, it would be a major step in separating her emotionally from him.

Which… was supposed to happen anyway as she grew up. Wasn’t it?

This hurt.

Everything hurt.

Hastur rose and went to check his wards again, adding a fourth and fifth layer, trying and failing to feel any better.

Parker had finally climbed back into his room because his back hurt, and wherever the city’d gone was cold now, and it wasn’t helping, anyway.

Part of him thought if he hurt badly enough, Sunny might come out. The other part thought if he hurt at all, Sunny would somehow blame himself, and never come out. There was no way to win this.

He didn’t know what to do. This was esoteric bullshit. He didn’t know how to fix this.

He lay on his bed, smelling of stone and dried leaves, and wet his pillow with tears. It was one thing to vow he’d try forever to bring Sunny back. He would absolutely try for the rest of his life, but he hadn’t honestly realized how badly it would hurt for that soft, sweet presence to just… go away.

He clenched his fists in the pillow. “Fuck,” he muttered, because he knew he owed Arthur an apology, but there were just no coins left in his emotional purse for that. He couldn’t do it. Not now.

A knock at the door.

Who in fuck…“Go the fuck away!” he bellowed (into his pillow, though, so it maybe wasn’t as fierce as it could be).

Another knock.

Whoever this was was gonna get hit.

Parker got up. Cracked his neck. Stalked toward that door with murder in his eyes. Fists clenched, he flung it open, and—

The King in Yellow hovered there.

“You?” said Parker.

“I am here to help,” said Hastur.

“You can’t.” Parker slammed the door. That felt pretty good.

Another soft knock.

He rubbed his face and opened it. “Help how?”

“I can speak with him. Get him communicating.”

Parker narrowed his eyes. Hastur sounded so… so…

Subdued? Diminished? Tired? Something not-booming and not-announcing and not-overriding all else.

Something not very Hastur.

“Why?” Parker demanded.

“Because he is my responsibility, and my failure to protect us all is the reason he’s hurt. Let me in, Parker Yang.”

Hastur didn’t need permission to come in. He was asking for it, anyway.

Parker could feel himself go pale. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing more than I have said. Let me in, Parker Yang.”

“Okay, you know what?” Parker said. “You know what? Sure! Why the fuck not! Come on in! Do your best! Long as you don’t hurt him.”

“I am not going to hurt him,” said Hastur, and hovered through the enormous door.

Parker closed it after him. Whatever was going to happen didn’t need any witnesses. He sniffled and wiped his face on his arm.

“Sit,” said Hastur.

“Sure. Whatever.” Parker sat. He looked out his balcony at the moons until they blurred, and wiped his face again.

“You will feel me,” said Hastur quietly. “I will not harm you, but you will feel me in your soul.”

“Oh, great,” said Parker. “Not even gonna buy a guy dinner first?”

“I have given you many dinners,” said Hastur, either too dry to pull the joke off or too tired to get it at all.

Parker shuddered. He cupped his jaw. His tears spilled, and this time he let them. “Save him,” he said. “Whatever it takes. I… I’ll owe you whatever. I don’t care. Just save him.”

“That is my intent,” said Hastur, and didn’t move at all, and yet—

Parker’s mind went blissfully blank as the King in Yellow slid between his thoughts, pressing Parker’s essence flat and calm, holding it still.

Quietly, expertly, Hastur went diving for gold.

It was calm and quiet and dark here, like looking up at the smooth surface of The Lake from beneath. Sometimes he caught glimpses of what happened outside, but things there didn’t make sense—it was bright, and confusing, and loud, and it hurt, and he fled back into the dark where things were calm and quiet and he simply could be.

He was safe, here. The screaming did not affect him (but he was screaming and he was weeping and it made him twist and ache and it was his fault) and the flashes of chaos he saw on the other side he could merely back away from, into the deeper part of this stillness where (he belonged because it was his fault) he was safe.

That is why it was surprising when things… changed.

Hello? He almost jumped at the sound of a voice. His voice? He did not have a voice. He merely was. Something was wrong.

Sunny. Little one. I am here.

The presence didn’t so much as cause a ripple here. It was being so careful, so cautious; and it was so… familiar.

It was not a bad familiar, and that was scary. He tried to shrink away, to wriggle further into the darkness. You’re not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to be here! That’s not fair!

Yet, I am here.

These simple statements were… good. Not hard to parse. They made no ripples.

If they made no ripples, perhaps they were not bad. And maybe that meant he was not bad? But how could he (his fault) be bad? No one is supposed to know I’m here. How… How did you find me?

I am you. There is nowhere you can go where I cannot find you. And the voice let that statement settle.

So familiar. Even welcoming; like fitting against a shape cut out just for him. It did nothing now, but waited, silent, not going away. Weirdly… stable, as if, perhaps, it was big enough to maintain its own gravity, like the sun.

It was nice. It was warm. It felt safe, but that couldn’t be right. Oh. I… I found this place by accident, a long time ago. Or… A long time ago for me. It’s safe here.

It can be. Though not without cost.

Cost? He didn’t know of any cost. The cost, maybe, was That Man might get angrier, but what could That Man do while he was here? I don’t understand. No one has ever found me here before. Did… Did you come here because you were scared, too?

No. I came here because one who loves you is grieving and needs help.

That couldn’t be right. Oh. I think you have me confused for someone else. I’m sorry.

I am you. How could I mistake you for anyone else?

I’m not anyone. Why would someone grieve me? That’s like grieving no one at all. You speak in riddles.

Parker Yang.

Those words hit him like a blow. Like a stab. Like

(his fault his fault HIS FAULT HIS FAULT HISFAULTHISFAULTHISFAULT )

He curled tighter, shuddering, wailing. I—I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to hurt him! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY!

The ripples were his alone, violent, in time with his sobs.

The voice waited. Waited until his sobs calmed to whimpers, until stillness and obtuse reflection were all that remained on the surface of the lake. You saved his life. If not for you, he would be dead—and given that he has died before, we could not bring him back. You saved him.

He didn’t want to remember this. He wasn’t supposed to hurt here, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid. I saw him die. I watched him die! I was—I was falling, and I tried to grab, and I—I killed him!

The attacker almost killed him. You are the one who keeps him moored; he has no soul moorings, little one. Only you. When you grabbed him, you saved him. He lives. And he mourns.

This was unfair. Things weren’t supposed to hurt here! I deserve this. I killed him. He’s the only person who ever loved me, and I killed him.

He lives because of you. This other was so… patient. Without you, he would be dead. You did not kill him. Do you know how I know this to be true?

How? How do you know? You didn’t see him die. I… I watched him. And I couldn't stop it.

I did. I was there. I saw the knife, which cut. I saw him rise from his body… with you. And I saw you hold him, and so secure him to it. How I know, little one, is because you are alive. If he lives, you live. If he dies, you die. And if you die, he dies. If you live, he lives. You are bound. You did not kill him or you, too, would be dead.

I deserve to be dead!

Perhaps. That is not a decision we always are able to make for ourselves. Many deserve to die who live. And many who live deserve to die. Does he deserve to die?

This voice… One by one the spines softened and he uncurled from the ball of terror and misery he had become. No. He deserves to live. He deserves to live forever, and to be happy forever.

On this, we agree, little one. And the voice let that sink in, because that was important, that mattered. They had to agree on this.

Did you bring him back?

You did. He would be dead if you had not held on. You saved him from the assassin’s knife. That is a very good thing to have done, don’t you think?

I couldn’t put him back. I… I didn’t realize he would go with me. I tried to put him back.

If you live, he lives. If you die, he dies. And because you held onto him, Dis was able to put him back. Do you remember your friend, Dis? She put you both back. You are together either way—alive or dead. Perhaps you should thank her.

I… I don’t remember Dis. I don’t remember much when I am here at all. He paused. I don't think I remember very much outside, either. I think I am sick. Broken. Full of holes.

As am I. There might have been some gentle, sad amusement in there. As is he without you. He calls for you, little one. Desperately, until his throat gives out. Desperately, until his eyes swell and his nose clogs. He calls for you.

How does he know I’m here? No one is supposed to know I’m here. It’s what keeps me safe from That Man when he… hurts me.

Was there a pause? Hard to say. Everything was so placid and quiet; perhaps it didn’t give him pause. Your special person knows you are here because his heart is fixed on you. He calls for you, little one. He needs you. If you die, he dies. If you stay here… he will fade. Do you want him to fade?

No. I don’t want that. He trembled.

You and I are one. Sometimes, we know we must do what is painful for those we love. Don’t we?

So calm. So soothing. But… he knew. This other knew what he was saying. They weren’t empty words, and a deep, incomprehensible pain echoed in him, like a secret heartbeat.

I… It hurts. It hurts so much. There is so much that hurts, and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to hurt anymore.

This pause was real. Yes. Hurting is… difficult. I know. Yet that is not all there is. A sensation, brief; a memory of the scent of chocolate, of the feel of another’s laughter in his throat, warm and hearty and known. It is not without pain, this life; yet it is not without joy, either. To have one, we must have the other.

You sound so sad, he said, voice small. Is it my fault?

No. It is that my time is shorter than yours, and I wish I had learned what I am telling you sooner. There is joy and there is pain, never one without the other; but the joy is worth the struggle. I wish I had known. Perhaps I want us to know this now, together.

Will you be there? I’m scared to go back. I’m scared of That Man. He wants to hurt my special person, and he likes to hurt me.

You will not be alone. I will be there. And Parker Yang is there, now, waiting. He needs you—imperfect, flawed, with holes. Perhaps those holes can be filled. Perhaps you fill each other.

He—P-Parker. He is… the only good thing that ever happened to me.

The voice didn’t argue that. He is worth, perhaps, the pain? Such a gentle question.

I think… I think so, yes. Someone very important asked me the same, and... I think he is. Then I had… things, to think about, but then everything happened, and then I saw him die. I saw Parker die. I can’t… I can’t let that happen again. Never.

I agree. So we also agree you will return to him. If you don’t, he is going to search for ways to bring you back—and he will go into great danger.

No! No! He can’t!

There’s a longing now, in this other’s voice. For you, little one, he would walk into the sun. For you, he would flay his own skin. For you, he would do anything. So. Perhaps if you are together, what you can do for each other is good things, gentle things, instead of desperate or cruel.

I won’t let him. I won’t. But… He let out a soft sob. I’m lost. I never went this far before.

Do you want to be with him? Put aside fears… guilt… shame. Does being with him make you happy? It makes him happy.

Stacking the deck now, was this other.

I think so. I’ve never been happy before, so… that must be happy. Right?

Yes. He is unhappy without you. He needs you to live; but also… to LIVE.

The first ripples this other caused. Here and now. On that crucial word. That beautiful, powerful word, to consider Parker Yang… LIVING.

An echo?

Parker’s voice?

Hoarse, rough. Calling. Sunny! Sunny! A sob. Sunny!

Barely audible, barely there, maybe a memory.

Who… Who is… Am I Sunny?

Yes. Gentle, sweet warmth. The name that he gifted to you out of love.

He… He didn’t gift it to me. I chose it. His breath, shaky, full of tears rippled the surface of The Lake. He calls me Sunshine.

There. That is a good name. A good memory. A joyful thing that weighs more than the pain.

Silence now, stillness. So they could both sit in the beauty of a name.

I am Sunny. I love poetry, and I love food, and I love Parker Yang.

They both sat in the wake of that. Definition; boundaries. Something to keep it all in, so it didn’t melt out and be lost.

If you wish to see him—to help him live, to bring him joy, and to know the joy he brings you—I can lead you home.

Because they both knew who “home” was.

I’m ready to come home now. Will you teach me how to find my way back? This won’t be the last time I come here, but… I don’t want to get lost again.

Yes. You will never be lost again. Come. I will show you the way.

The way through thoughts and brambles, the way through pain and scars, the way through darkness by following drops of light—glints, even in the darkest hours, pieces of things that were good and whole, hints of joy too golden to be lost even in the worst of the shadow. It was a constellation, a beacon, and when he fixed his gaze on it he could track it like the North Star.

The way was there. It had always been there—but only if Sunny was willing to see.

…Parker?

Parker came to doubled over on himself. He sat in that chair, still, and Hastur held him so he didn’t fucking fall on his face. “Uh,” Parker said.

“Parker Yang,” said Hastur, and his voice rumbled in Parker’s bones. “You are not alone.”

“Sunny!” Parker sat up so fast he was dizzy (or maybe already was dizzy, and this just brought that home). “Sunny?”

I’m here, said Sunny, who sounded worn, who sounded exhausted, who sounded like the most precious thing Parker had ever heard. I’m here, my love.

And Parker did something Sunny had never heard before: he fucking sobbed. “Sunny,” he managed, doubling over again and hugging himself. “Sunny. Oh, gods. I thought I lost you. Sunny.” He put both hands on his face, cupping his jaw. “Sunny!”

I’m sorry I left you alone, Sunny whispered, settling into the touch. I’m never going to leave you alone like this again. Never. I’m all-in, partner.

This weeping was hard to read. It was so… naked; relieved, but utterly gutted. He couldn’t seem to stop. “Thought I lost you. I thought… I wasn’t… I didn’t stop looking, I… I don’t care you left, I…” He broke down again.

Hastur was gone. Parker didn’t notice.

“Whatever you need, bud,” Parker said, choked. “I don’t care what it is. We’ll do it. Anything. Ain’t never gonna let you stay lost.” And barely audible: “Thank you for coming back. You came back. You came back.”

I didn’t mean to stay away so long. I… He shuddered. Not… Now. Not right now. I need you. I’m sorry I left, Parker. But when I… Remembered, Hastur showed me how to follow you back. Ya Hafh Yogfm’l.

That seemed to amaze him. “I… we owe him. Dis, too.” He winced. “That fucking knife… it’s some new thing they… they said the Mi-Go came up with it. It can cut entwined souls. They were aiming for Arthur. I… fuck. I owe him an apology.” He paused. “I fuckin’ hit him.”

What? Why?

Parker sighed. “Because he was there. And you weren’t. Not my best moment, bud, if I’m honest.”

Sunny let out a rumble that Parker could feel in his chest, in his bones, in his soul. He is well acquainted with the way grief makes one mad. I am sure he will forgive you.

“Yeah.” Parker hadn’t sat up. Hadn’t stopped hugging himself. Hadn’t let go of his own face—the only contact he could have with his partner. “Still. Can’t say I handled this great. Even Faroe stayed away.” He sniffled. “Hastur’s gonna go after the lizard guy’s nation. Got a bad feeling it won’t go so great for them.” And he realized the god was gone. “Fuck. Didn’t thank him.”

I think… I think I shook him up badly. But he was kind to me.

Parker was silent for a moment. “He’s fucked up. And he doesn’t have someone like you. So. I dunno what to do about that right now. I can’t… think beyond having you back. That’s all, for me. Right now. Everybody else in the world can fuck themselves.” He sniffled. “You came back.”

I cannot promise I won’t dissociate again; but I will promise you now, on my love for you, on my soul, that I will always, always find a way back.

“Nobody’s ever loved me like that,” Parker whispered. “Glad it goes both ways.” He exhaled slowly. “I just… I need to just be here with you for a while. That okay?”

No one has ever loved me like you, Parker. I need you too. As long as it takes.

Parker stood (and Sunny noticed the state of his clothes, and his unshaven beard) and staggered over to their bed.

Their bed.

“Haven’t slept since it happened,” said Parker, and all but collapsed into it. “Hey. Stupid… stupid thing. Can you maybe… sing to me?”

Of course, Sunny rumbled. My voice, or yours?

“Yours. I missed you so damn much.” His voice broke.

I can’t forget the night I met you, Sunny sang, It’s all I’m dreaming of; and now you call it madness…

Parker’s exhale was like all the tension in the world melting away, fog in morning light. Slowly, he relaxed. Slowly, his eyes closed. He stroked his lips for a while, then his jaw, and finally slipped into a deeply exhausted sleep, face cradled in his hand.

But I call it love.

Arthur lay and listened to Odd’s music.

Mostly just fiddling around (ha, a pun), but it was… helpful. Calming. Helped Arthur’s thoughts to fall better in line like notes on a staff. Not that it helped much else. But… it helped this.

He lay, and listened, and tried to think.

The guy had come after him. Debriefing really made that clear. Why, though? Why?

Vaguely, he had some guesses about Hastur’s bid for power, and a purported child (John… who was still quiet), but come on. Really? Really? All this, for that? It would start a war! Who would possibly be stupid enough to do this?

Odd, said John quietly, out of nowhere. Do you know any Earth songs?

“Sure, a few,” said Odd. “Got a request?”

“John?” said Arthur, his stuffed nose turning it into Jod.

Yes. Nat King Cole. You Call It Madness.

“Huh,” said Odd, thoughtful. “I’ve heard it. Couldn't tell you where. I've never gotten it as a request before, but it’s pretty clear in my head.” He plucked a few strings of his violin, finding a note to begin. “You made a plaything out of romance, what were you thinking of— right?”

John took it up where Odd left off. You made a promise to be faithful… by all the stars above. And now you call it madness, but I call it love.

Arthur had gone silent. Listening.

“Oh, my heart is beating, it keeps repeating for you constantly,” Odd sang, coaxing his violin into the piano line. “You’re all I’m needing, and so I’m pleading: please come back to me.”

Tears slid down Arthur’s face. He lay still, on his side, curled like a kidney bean.

Arthur, said John quietly. I remember.

Odd let his voice drop to a hum, his violin a gentle backdrop of music as he watched the pair from the corner of his eye.

“You remember?” Arthur picked up his head a bit. “Oh… Oh, gods, John. I’m so sorry. What was it… Was it when I opened the book? This song was playing, then, wasn’t it?”

Everything. I remember everything. All of it. When I saved you tonight, something happened.

“Something…”

Odd gently set down his bow, pulling the violin off his shoulder, just subtly enough to not make a sound.

“You remember everything?” Arthur whispered, and made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’re back?”

Everything, said John. Including before I met you. We need to talk. Arthur. I am the King in Yellow.

------------

Notes:

Soooo the cat is out of the bag! Dis sort of leaked in here from my original series, Among the Mythos. Have a short story with her namesake!

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #surrogate series #surrogate malevolent #surrogate fic #arthur lester #king in yellow

6 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 1 year

Text

Honestly one thing I immediately notice about all my wips for hades is like. I can tell I was having fun! These drafts are like ALL OVER THE PLACE, but, I'm a way where I'm making drafts for all sorts of different ideas. Shit I have drafts that are literally just.... interaction scenes??? I have several drafts for a concept where Reader becomes a minor goddess adopted by the house of hades and when Persephone decides to take you to Olympus with her one spring "to meet the rest of the family" and you catch Ares' eye and he decides he wants you as a wife and it begins this whole like Greek epic with, Reader going back to the Underworld and keeping quiet, Ares is having Hermes secretly smuggle her letters or gifts which she's trying to ignore, when she ignores him for too long the House of Hades becomes FLOODED with new Shades because SUDDENLY there are all these human wars breaking out and Reader eventually has to buckle and write a reply letter

HADES EVENTUALLY FINDS OUT AND IS LIKE "ZEUS CONTROL YOUR GODDAMN SON" and Zeus is just like "well its no big deal right she's just a minor goddess and she isn't even your REAL DAUGHTER so--" cue another family war about to break out because the entire fucking House of Hades refuses to stand for this. You think Nyx is gonna still be cordial with Ares when she finds out he literally chased down her adopted daughter for the thrill of the hunt and then took her by force? Persephone? Achilles? Meg? Shit like, with how much Nyx adores you, do you think her daughters THE FATES THEMSELVES will let this happen. Ancestor of indiscriminate gender PRIMORDIAL CHAOS?????? Not to mention any Olympians who would be knocking heads with Ares already like Athena since I'm pretty sure in myth and in game they have kind of a huge rivalry with each other?

Which is another draft I have btw, Reader is on Olympus for a party or something and Athena and Ares are being friendly, secretly trying to own each other by getting 'the most' attention from you when one of them asks "which is better, wisdom or strength?" To which Reader immediately says wisdom but then gives more nuanced answers when she sees the reaction that gets. Athena and Ares start butting heads which makes Reader kind of leave them to it and walk away, and a while later Aphrodite walks up to the siblings "haven't you two noticed there's someone ELSE vying for her attention?" And points and boom there's Dionysus sharing some nice ambrosia with you and he's got you smiling and giggling and, did he just rest his hand on your thigh while whispering in your ear? And they storm over, "oh don't trust him he's gross, he's a lush, if you want to drink, drink with us" and they're so busy trying to shake down Big D that APHRODITE the TRUE THREAT sneaks up and Reader is all drunk and giggly "you're naked but you're a pretty lady and if I was so pretty I'd probably be naked too haha is that a weird thing to say haha 😊🥰😊🥰😊" and by the time Athena and Ares and Dionysus come to their senses the Love Goddess has already snuck off with you for some. Nice times :)

Why am I literally getting new ideas while remembering the ones I already have started lmao. Platonic yandere Artemis who becomes your bud and you're hunting and frolicking and chilling with the other nymphs and eventually you want to like actually get a boyfriend and have sex with a man or something and Artemis is basically like "NO QUEEN this is supposed to be OUR girlboss adventure 🥺🥺🥺 no cooties allowed"

I even, jeez this was a weird side plot, I was just writing shit for like WORLD BUILDING because I never expected these to see the light of day and thus I can just fuck around, and I think a sideplot or idea I was putting into that Ares fic was "Reader is constantly trying to find her purpose or a job to do in the House of Hades and at one point she starts deeply studying like human aqueducts and how there are specific ways humans have tilled the earth and dug trenches to divert floodwaters and you make it your mission to help clean up the flooding of the River Phlegathon (is that how it was spelled) and you even take the Twin Fists to use almost like gardening gloves (because remember these used to belong to Demeter for essentially the same purpose) to pummel the earth and even helping round up your own little team of construction Shades. Hades suddenly starts hearing all these whispers and rumors from the Shades about how Asphodel is slowly becoming more livable because the diverting floodwaters is leaving, you know, actual land to use instead of having to have floating boats and houses on literal fucking demon hellspawn lava, and maybe he even catches you in the act where you're basically on a construction zone, "alright everyone here's the plan, I want you guys digging the canal to the west and after the signal youe group will raise the dam--" and maybe he's actually impressed you took the initiative but also he didn't give you permission to take Malphon or do any of this, you kind of, just needed an outlet for your feelings of stress and helplessness especially after what Ares did

But yeah this past week I'm particularly I've been deep diving through my WIPS and going down memory lane and it's like, well until I get the balls to actually work on some of these, I was googling how like, Google Drive works and was considering just, publicly posting the wips in an online folder or something, but I don't want people to have to download things to read them and I have to pull things off of tumblr and put then in individual word docs and my laptop. Likes to be difficult with me 😅 but yeah hoping to maybe post and share the wips soon bc maybe it'll jumpstart the motivation to finish some of em lol, especially cause some of then have decent chunks written

16 notes · View notes

mygwenchan · 1 year

Text

STRAY THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING LOVE SYNDROME III - EP7

Another week, another episode of unhinged silliness and kink! And judging by the preview I've seen, this episode is gonna get spicy~ ✨

And we're starting off with a barbecue, my German heart is happy (I really need to clean my grill for that Angrillen tradition!)

Yes, J'Belle, tell us all the gossip~ Oh, a new name! Poom it is? Well, he goes right onto my Love Syndrome/Unforgotten Night character chart. I'm making one rn, cause maybe maybe I'll be able to remember who is friends with whom and who is an ex-boyfriend and... let's just say, I've only started yesterday and it's already a mess lol

Jealous Itt is jealous and Day loves it! In fact, Day loves it so much, he's willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. Oh my... Day ate well that night

J'Belle, not the sausage reference please OMG 🤣

Barely 10 minutes into the episode and it's already sexy time again~ Yeah, this ep is giving. Imagine if all amnesia cases could be solved with some good old humping in the sheets. The doctors would be jobless lol

On a side note: Is that Frank's real tattoo or a sticker? Hmm... I think I need to take a closer look. For science (Update: Yep, it's a real tattoo ^^)

And suddenly we're in a serious conversation about love vs using someone to satisfy their needs. Well, it is an important question Itt is asking here

"I want to remember..." Omg Day?! Are you finally coming around? Are you finally being nice to Itt? "...why did I even date a silly person like you" Dude... why are you playing us like this 😩 The sadistic tendencies are strong in this one

New drinking game just dropped: Every time someone eats cake, you have to drink a shot!

That fortune teller is my new spirit animal "Hit him with a stick and his memory will return" WHY?! 😂 (also, I have a feeling there was a raunchy joke in there that got lost in translation. Something something long hard sticks...)

(Itt smacking the memories back into Day, a reference image)

Oh no! There is a lurking shadow behind Day and Itt that will cause trouble? Who is it? Who keeps calling Itt from an unknown number? I need to know!

Aha! So the creepy guy is actually Pee! But did they really name the kid "Pee"? Really? Or is this another translation error. For the actors and character's sake, I really hope it's an error...

Anyway... Suddenly there's a flashback and guns and drama! So Pee is mafia as well or had a crush on Itt and wanted to get rid of Day or? I'm confused 😅

Flashback time again~ This time it's Itt bike racing. He actually used to be a little badass. Now he's a softie who only eats cake. See kids, this is what love does to a man lol

Day really needs to learn how to chill. Maybe he should pick up yoga or makramee or something

Noooo! Itt don't run onto the race track! Don't be stupid now, boy! ...And of course he is stupid, ah... 🤦‍♀️ Tbh Itt kind of deserved that punch

Awkward silence while Itt storms off and everyone else just stands around. Yeah, I've been in that situation before. It's super uncomfortable when friends of yours are a couple and they fight in front of you. Best strategy in my opinion is to quietly escape to the loo (the bathroom, an introverts best friend 🤗)

Also, another drinking game just dropped: Every time a group of guys stands awkwardly around Day or Itt, you have to drink two shots! Bonus round, if there's cake involved

Omg is Day going to cry?! He totally looks like he's going to cry. Aww, poor baby... Nope, never mind. Day decided that he'd rather break his arm again than to shed a single manly tear. Oh my

Ohhhh! Night is back, my sweet boy 🥰 He's so cute

And Night and Gear are once again the ones who have to fix Itt's and Day's relationship *le sigh*

"If you feel tired, how about running away?" Oh Night, I like you! Yes, Itt should totally go on a vacation, that boy really needs a break. Day can deal with his anger issues alone for all I care

And Itt is gone~ Can I just say that I love how both Gear and Night are so angry at Day? You go tell him, boys! Hehe (even though it looks like Gear almost get's drowned by Day in the next ep, it's still worth it 😌)

Alright, that's it for this episode! Next episode we'll get a new love interest for Itt, Day will have another temper tantrum and almost kills his brother-in-law and Night will be a lil cutie as always. So stay tuned~

#i think i'm actually getting used to frank's wig lol #love syndrome #love syndrome iii #love syndrome the series #gwen's watchlist #midnight thoughts

9 notes · View notes

thewertsearch · 2 years

Text

Asks Compilation 30/05

And they really do. It’s kind of a crime that they never grew up together, because that would have been the funniest shit ever.

I’ll give them a look soon then! I’m planning on doing a few in-between things like that after the conclusion of Act 4.

That’s four accidental references. I guess when your comic is already so reference-heavy, this becomes kind of a statistical inevitability.

I really gotta check out this game.

That’s hilarious, but also - people do live reads on Twitch? That’s so fun! It wouldn’t be for me, but I’d love to watch some of those, once I’ve finished the comic. It’s such a novel way to do something like this.

The Midnight Crew are duplicated across sessions, and I think it’s pretty likely that the same goes for all unique Carapaicians. I’m fairly confident that WV, PM and AR all exist in the troll session.

If he’s always predisposed to rebel, then he’s just another card Sburb can play. It’s like anon said - if the Reckoning is coming on a little too early, he attacks the Black King to delay it, so Players can get there on time.

But he can’t ever win, because the game decrees that Prospit can’t be spared. This is why I hope he isn’t scripted, because if he is, this whole thing gets really tragic really fast.

Hah, I noticed after I posted it, but I didn’t bother to change it. It really captured the energy of those last few panels.

Hell yeah! 😍 It’ll be cool to see how the design evolves as I learn what each of the trolls’ features actually mean and signify.

They’re honestly a ton of fun to make. I haven’t done any sprite work in a long time, and it’s been really fun to get back into it!

Damn it, this is what happens when you type your FAQ at 2am...

Theory: The Guardians weren’t cloned from themselves. They were created from mutant TBH DNA, and the Striders are the least mutated of all.

As a former security analyst, I am honor-bound to practice good infosec and not share my birthday online. But yeah, we’re in my season!

I never liked having a summer birthday - I much prefer winter weather, since I’m kinda photosensitive. I’m also the only one in my family with a summer birthday. In defiance to Gemini symbolism, I stand alone. >:)

Oh, yeah, I can for sure believe that people would still ship these kids post-Veil - lest we forget the perfect storm of discourse that was early Supernatural.

It’s probably a good thing that these kids were thirteen-year-old online friends, and not eighteen-year-old college roommates. That could have got really awkward, and I imagine (read: hope) that Sburb intercedes to make sure such situations don’t arise.

Again: My heartfelt thanks to all readers for not asking me about shipping pre-Veil. I don’t think I would have shipped RoseDave or JohnJade, but if I’d actually had reason to think about it at the time, you never know...

Like, I know this stuff is probably just being alchemized, but I can’t get over the possibility that Players have ‘iconic accessories’ built into their DNA.

Except the Striders. They just get big ol’ eyes.

Love the idea that Battlefield Carapacians have their own distinct culture. Living in an eternal war zone would change you, no matter how deeply ingrained your Sburb programming was.

I like to think that when WV rose up, it was the war-weary Battlefield Carapacians who were the first to stand beside him

[ Rex Duodecim is really good but it spoils some stuff later on. you should watch it after Act 5 fully ends... maybe even liveblog it? - Cat ]

Thanks a bunch, and get well soon! I’m glad that the liveblog is helping you through it!

So it’s a fanmade video that was confirmed as canon later on? Or is it more that the author likes it so much that they consider it canon? Either way, I’ll check it out when I can be sure it won’t spoil me on anything!

Thank you! You can thank @beneath-these-bones for the initial design. It’s a fantastic base, and I plan to update it when I get round to drawing some alchemy gear.

It works either way! Despite the fact that I never get assigned the Space Aspect, I still love all things astronomical.

Yeah, I’m inclined to agree. I love the star’s dopey face, but the planet does look a lot better. Initially I made the planet’s ring fully horizontal, but this is definitely an improvement.

Chillingly plausible. Now that we know Rose’s Grimoire is the real deal, who knows what effect that thing was having on her, over the years? Plus, she’s been dreaming on Derse her whole life...

#asks #full liveblog #act 4 #classpect

44 notes · View notes

queenie-blackthorn · 1 year

Text

What if Annabeth died in the Giant War? (5/8)

Pov: Hestia, goddess of the hearth

The son of Poseidon was coming. I could sense his aura, even from the throne room. Zeus had summoned all the Olympians together for a meeting; Apollo and Artemis have been summoned from their prison on Delos, and even Hades was summoned up here. I may not be an Olympian anymore, but I want to make sure no fights break out among my family.

That is my purpose, after all, as the goddess of the home.

"Father," Artemis asked. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Are me and Artemis being freed?" Apollo asked hopefully.

"Yes, Apollo," Zeus answered. "We are in troubled times. Annabeth Chase has-"

"My daughter has fallen in battle." Athena cut in. Her intense gray eyes, red from sorrow, were staring hard at Poseidon. "She has fallen at the hand of Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."

"It was an accident," Poseidon said angrily. "My son is being destroyed by grief-"

"And that pain will not only destroy him, but it will also push him to destroy us." Zeus cut in, his voice full of authority. "I never warned you before, but my nephew is a dangerous opponent. If he had chosen to be a lesser god last year-"

"He would've destroyed us the instant my daughter released her last breath." Athena finished.

"Just slay him where he stands and get it over with," Ares grumbled. "I don't understand why some troublesome punk is such a big deal."

Poseidon's eyes blazed with anger. "The boy is in mourning. At least try to get him to see reason before annihilating him."

Hades opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly Demeter gasped. She doubled over, coughing.

"Sister?" I asked, alarmed. "What is it?" Demeter looked up, her face pale, ichor dribbling down the corner of her mouth. "A dryad has been killed. She died here, on Olympus."

"He is coming," Hades whispered harshly.

The doors flew open.

A young man stalked in, eyes like the calm before a storm. His clothes were ripped up and covered in dirt, and he had the scent of death clinging to him. He was carrying a dead dryad in his arms, her skin an abnormal shade of pastel greenish yellow. Her eyes were closed, her long black-and-white eyelashes brushing her cheeks.

There was another young man a little ways behind Percy Jackson, one I recognized instantly. He was the first mortal who has ever spoken to me in centuries, and he hadn't even known I was a goddess when he had. He was fiddling nervously with the skull ring on his finger. I guessed that he was here to keep Percy at bay if he went out of control.

"Nico di Angelo. Percy Jackson." I murmured. The two most powerful demigods I have seen for quite some time.

Nico seemed to hear me. "Hello, Hestia."

"I am sorry to hear about your lover, son of Poseidon," I said carefully.

"Oh, you might be. And Athena might be. What of the other gods? Are they sorry?" Percy didn't even glance at me.

"We are, as a matter of fact," Artemis answered. "Annabeth Chase was a marvelous fighter. Her death is a great loss to Camp Half-Blood. I would've loved to have her join my Hunters, but it seems her love for you was strong. She died a warrior's death; one she deserved."

"If she was a marvelous fighter and her death is a great loss, you have to consider that we are at war. Bring her back to me."

"That is not allowed," Zeus said. "Her soul has already passed. She resides in Elysium now. If we bring her back to war, she will be unhappy."

"Unhappy? Unhappy?" Percy roared. Nico flinched. "There are two people in my life that I need, and two people only. Anyone else can die. But if I lose either, I won't be able to continue living."

"Annabeth Chase," I said calmly. "And Sally Jackson."

"I've already been separated from my mother because of you, Hera." He glared at the goddess in question. "Now I lose Annabeth? I won't fight for the Greeks or the Romans if you do not bring her back to me. I will fight against them."

"Percy, don't be irrational. Achilles stopped fighting in the Trojan War, and it led to Patroclus's death." Hephaestus said. "Then that led to Achilles's death."

"I don't care, though, since I am Achilles who stopped fighting so Patroclus can be returned to me. And you think I would mind death?" A maniacal laugh bubbled out of him.

"You would," Hera said. "Your mother... she is pregnant."

Percy froze. The dryad's body fell to the ground as his arms went limp to his sides. "W-What?"

"She's one month now, nearly two. I already let them know. As the goddess of motherhood, I know when one is expecting."

Percy stared in shock for a moment. He fell to his knees and stared into space.

"Percy," Nico said softly. He knelt beside Percy. "Your mother. She cried every day of fear for you. Annabeth too. Paul comforted them both but it didn't help much. I know this because I used to go to her often, to give her updates on you. She needed it, she said. Then Annabeth knew you were in Camp Jupiter, and that gave her and your mother hope. Then your mother found out she was pregnant and was delighted. She kept talking about how great it would be for you to have a younger sister."

Percy didn't seem to hear him. He was looking down, still in shock. Then slowly, he looked up.

His voice was monotonous. "I won't lose my mom or my baby sibling. I won't lose Annabeth. I will bring her back." Water appeared out of nowhere, swirling around us. Fear washed over me, like a cold hand clutching my heart. "Die."

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the tears forming in Percy's eyes as he walked over to the Ophiotaurus, his sword in hand.

#dark!percy #percy jackson #nico di angelo #heroes of olympus #hoo #the giant war #percabeth #dead annabeth #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #fanfiction #fanfic #part five #angst

7 notes · View notes

invisibleraven · 2 years

Note

Domestic prompt! Covering one member with a blanket when they fall asleep watching a movie, peterpatterlina

Julie shivers as the cold rushes through her despite just having closed the door. It makes her joints ache, and she shuffles to the kitchen for a mug of hot tea and some pain killers. It feels like rain, and she doesn't want another night of sleepless agony after suffering through the last storm.

It's a quiet night, and Julie feels no need to break the silence by either talking to herself, or turning on the radio. Just enjoys a simple meal before finding herself sitting on her living room couch. Her eyes drift over the shelves of trophies, pictures, plants, and mementos, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. She digs up the ancient flash drive and loads it up, relaxing back on the couch, though it's not as easy to get comfortable as it once was.

The video finally loads, and she's suddenly staring at her sixteen year old self. Bedecked in butterflies as she plays the piano in front of her parent's garage. Watches as the guys poof in, playing their dead little hearts out. Catches how Luke pouts when she avoids singing with him, and Reggie's delighted grin.

From there it goes to the Orpheum show, the trepidation on her face as she wondered if her ghosts would even show up. The soft look she gives each of them as they appear, for what they thought would be their last show. Julie can't believe how young she looks in the video, but she shines, giving it her all.

The film skips forward a bit; various gigs, signing their first deal, cutting their first album. Sneaky shots from Carlos capturing her first kiss with Luke, though you can see Reggie's devastated expression in the background. Only for it to be wiped away in the next shot when both her and Luke pressed kisses to his face as well.

The video goes on, showing beach days with Alex and Willie, sleepovers with Flynn, and later Carrie and the rest of the Dirty Candi girls. Various stops on tour. Her tia and papi, looking proud and full of laughter, full of life. Performing at Pride, dancing with her guys at prom, graduation.

There are bigger skips then, as Julie ages. The guys do not, but change up their looks just enough that they look older, just with baby faces, and most fans wave it off as them being genetically lucky.

Their first home, all together, though Alex and Willie quickly find their own space. Flynn and Carrie eloping in Hawaii, Julie bringing home a dog for Reggie who is in tears when she tells him it's name is Solo. Luke getting to meet his heroes at various functions, one of whom compliments his chord progression. Family dinners and barbecues, treks to Disney and quiet nights in. All captured on film, the love between everyone oh so evident that it makes Julie ache.

Then there's the Grammys.

Julie contemplates shutting the video off here, knowing what's coming, but her finger never floats to the stop button. Just lets it play through. Their performance, their awards, right up until the last one of the night. Julie stepping up to the mic, thanking everyone, and the guys... shimmer out of view behind her.

Her cries and screams still echo in her mind, pleading desperately for them to come back, for them not to leave her. Regret over never getting to say goodbye, to never give Luke and Reggie one last kiss, one last I love you.

The video ends, and Julie lets the tears stream down her face, hitting the button to repeat it, even though she knows it's not healthy. Can hear Dr. Turner in the back of her mind reminding her about not living in the past, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. But she doesn't listen, instead watches her young self, the best friends she ever had, the loves of her life, the images repeating over and over until she drifts off to sleep.

"Hey boss."

Julie's eyes fly open, and she has to stop herself from screaming, because there are Luke and Reggie, looking exactly the same as when she first saw them. Twinkling eyes and crooked grins, arms open for her. She rushes into their embrace, letting their lips collide in messy kisses, despite how much she's sure she's trembling.

"H-how?" she asks, and finally realizes that her voice-her body is back to how it was when they were young. She glances behind her, sees the frail old lady lying on the couch, a blanket tossed over her still form. "Oh. Is it time?"

"Yeah darlin'," Reggie says, a hint of remorse in his voice. "It is."

Julie takes one last glance around her home, and despite having spent so long mourning, she concludes she lead a good life, and though she would have changed some things around, she has no regrets. She turns back to her boys, slipping her hands into theirs, and smiles. "I'm ready now, let's go."

Luke and Reggie grin, pulling her forward, into the bright, blinding light, and all Julie can do is sing the first song they ever did together, the words seeming especially fitting right now. Bright forever indeed.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rukebox #peterpatterlina #julie and the phantoms #sorry not sorry for this being sad af #but the idea came to me and would not let go

17 notes · View notes

marsmarvel02 · 1 month

Text

"What Manny Can't Fix" Review: Chapters 35 and 36

So, as it turns out, there are ten more chapters of this fanfic tucked away on ArchiveOfOurOwn.org.

Hoo-ray.

Well, today we're picking up right after Felipe innocently asking Kira about her backstory caused Kira to storm out of the room.

(And as always, if you'd like to start this review series from the beginning, Chapter 1 is here.)

Chapter 35

Kira sat down in the hallway, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to hold back tears. The door to the room creaked open, as Felipe and Pumpetunia hopped out.

That comma is not necessary.

“Kira?” Feliepe asked.

She looked up, sniffling.

“I’m sorry…” Felipe said. “I…I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“...It’s…fine…” Kira sighed. “I…I just needed some air.”

Well, Pumpetunia can help with that! (Sorry, bad joke.)

Pumpetunia put her hose on her shoulder in comfort.

Wow, speak of the devil.

Kira stayed silent for a moment.

“Do you need some alone time?” Felipe asked.

“No…It might be nice to have some company.” Kira said. “I’ve just been through some stuff…and I still need time to like…process it I guess.”

Ah yes, “some stuff”. I hate it when I go through ill-defined “stuff”.

(Yeah, I know it’s not in-character for her to reveal her tragic backstory at the moment, but all this nebulous teasing of it is driving me nuts. And, since we’re talking about tools, bolts too.)

“I understand.” Felipe said, before turning to Pumpetunia and translating for her.

Pumpetunia tightened her hug and gave her a gentle smile.

“....I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it….” Kira said.

“And that’s okay!” Felipe reassured her. “We don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Kira smiled slightly. “Thanks guys…”

The three of them sat there in silence for a while, until Kira stood up. “My girlfriend’s coming over soon,”-

Oh jeez, not another romantic subplot.

-”I need to get dressed. I’ll tell you when you can come in.”

Felipe nodded, as Kira went back inside the room. A while later she opened the door and let them back in.

She’d changed into a light sweater, sweatpants, and had her blonde hair up in a bun.

Her hair was blonde this whole time? I’d kinda been picturing her with black hair for some reason.

Anyway, DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTERS WHEN YOU INTRODUCE THEM, AUTHOR!

“We’re going to have breakfast at the diner down the street. Do you want me to ask her if you guys can come?”

Felipe smiled. “That sounds great!” He turned to Pumpetunia and asked her.

“Oh, sí!” She said.

Wait…

If Pumpetunia only speaks Spanish, then why is her name a portmanteau of an English word and a given name that originated in England? Shouldn’t it be some sort of pun on “bomba de aire”, which is what Spanish-speaking people call air pumps?

Kira finished up the sunrise drawing in her sketchbook and shut it, before placing it back on her bed.

A bit later there was a knock on the door, and Kira hopped off the bed and opened it. A girl about her age pulled her into a tight hug.

Aaand we’re not going to be getting any better description of this “girl about her age”, are we?

“Hey Kira!” She greeted her excitedly.

“Hey Lilly.” She replied, her voice still kind of low, before pulling back. “I got some new roommates.”

Kira turned around and gestured towards the two tools. “Lilly, meet Felipe and Pumpetunia.”

“Hello!” Felipe said.

“Hola!” Pumpetunia waved her hose in greeting.

“Oh!” Lilly seemed surprised. “They’re tools?”

“Sí.” Felipe said, hopping over to her. “I’m a Phillips Head Screwdriver, and Pumpetunia is a bike pump!”

Can’t Lilly, you know, see that?

Pumpetunia nodded and went over to her. “"Encantada de conocerte!” [“”Nice to meet you!”]

Instead of the Spanish inverted exclamation point, the author accidentally put in a second quotation mark.

And that was possibly the weirdest grammatical error you’ll see today.

“She said it’s nice to meet you!” Felipe translated.

Lilly leaned down to both their levels. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too! I’ve never met tools before….Well, like ones that are alive I mean. I’m sorry, that isn’t rude is it?” She started stumbling over her words.

“No, no it’s fine.” Felipe reassured her. “Not everyone is used to seeing us.”

“It’s okay Lilly.” Kira said, stroking her hair in comfort. “They’re both really nice.”

“Sorry…” Lilly said, sounding a bit embarrassed. “It’s nice to meet you….Oh I said that already, didn’t I? Sorry.”

Oh my god you’re annoying.

“It’s okay.” Felipe said.

“So uh, breakfast?” Lilly asked, still sounding slightly awkward.

“Sounds good to me.” Kira said, grabbing her purse.

“Oh! Do you guys wanna come with us?” Lilly asked.

“Sure!” Felipe said, before translating for Pumpetunia.

“All right!” Lilly smiled as she went over to the door. “Let's go!”

“Let’s plunk around for a chapter or two and delete some matter from existence!”

Chapter 36

The group headed to a small diner just down the street, and smushed together into a booth.

Lilly and Kira both grabbed a menu, while Felipe and Pumpetunia shared a menu.

“All of this looks so good!” Lilly said. “I don’t know what to order!”

“Me neither…�� Kira said, scanning the menu.

Felipe and Pumpetunia looked over theirs, trying to decide what to get.

Pumpetunia pointed her hose at something.

“Oh, panqueques?” -

Yes, that’s really how Spanish-speakers spell “pancakes”.

- Felipe asked. “Suena bueno para mi!” [“Sounds good to me!”]

“I think I’ll get the waffles.” Lilly decided. She looked over at Kira and gently grabbed her hand.

“What about you?”

“I think I’ll get the omelet…” Kira said, folding the menu back up and placing it back on the table.

“Good choice!” Lilly said, giving her hand a squeeze. She looked at Felipe and Pumpetunia. “What did you two decide on?”

“We’re getting the pancakes!” Felipe said.

“Oh nice! It’s kinda like what I’m getting….Kinda…” She giggled. “Except mine’s shaped like a square and yours is uh…a circle…or an oval in some cases!”

Why do you think that they don’t know what waffles are?

Also, in my experience, pancakes are more lumpy than either a circle or an oval. Although that might just be from my dad’s “cooking skills”.

“Not exactly.” Felipe said. “Waffle batter has more sugar and oil in it.”

“Oh…” Lilly looked down at the table awkwardly.

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” Felipe said. “I’m sorry, I…I was just trying to make conversation….”

Weirdest attempt to “make conversation” ever.

“No, no it’s okay.” Lilly said. “Sometimes I just overthink things, I know I shouldn’t but….I…I don’t know. I think it might just be an anxiety thing.”

“No, I understand.” He tried to reassure her. “I get anxious too.”

“You do?”

Felipe nodded. “It’s okay to be anxious sometimes.”

//Groan…//

Pumputenia looked over at Felipe, and asked what they were talking about. He explained to her, and she softened slightly.

She scooted closer to Lilly and smiled gently. “Yo también me pongo ansiosa" [“I get anxious too”]

JUST. STOP. TALKING!

“She said she gets anxious too.” Felipe translated.

"Estoy preocupado por mi novia" [“I’m worried about my girlfriend”] Pumpetunia sighed.

[“And my missing punctuation. Has anyone seen the periods from my last two sentences?”]

“She said she misses her girlfriend.” Felipe frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lilly frowned.

“We’ve been looking for her.” Felipe explained. “That’s why we're out here….”

“Maybe we could make posters to find her.” Lilly suggested. “What does she look like? Maybe Kira could make some drawings of her!”

But that would require them to describe Twist to her, and you know the author can’t handle descriptions!

Felipe’s eyes widened in excitement as he turned to Kira. “Could,,,could you do that?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah I could do that.” Kira said, smiling gently. She reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchbook and pencil.

You’re actually going to attempt this, author?

Oh boy, this’ll be GREAT!

"¿Que esta pasando?" [“What’s going on?”] Pumpetunia asked.

“Estamos haciendo carteles para encontrar a Twist" [“We’re making posters to find Twist.”]

"¿Realmente?" [“Really?”] She asked.

Felipe nodded and tilted his head towards Kira

"¡Oh gracias!" Pumpetunia said.

“So, what’s her name?” Kira asked.

I’d complain, but I checked the story and Kira actually did manage to go until now without finding out Twist’s name.

“Twist.” Felipe said.

“Twist….” Kira said, writing her name on the top of the paper. “What does she look like?”

“Oh, she’s yellow like me, but a darker yellow, and the band on her handle is blue. She recently had an accident and her blade is bent to the right.”

Um, when Twist was introduced, her blade was bent to the left.

I know this is just authorial stupidity, but it does create in my mind the idea of Twist going through various Looney Tunes-esque attempts to straighten out her blade, only for the last attempt to work a bit too well and kink her blade to the left.

Kira started sketching from Felipe’s description. “Anything else?”

“Uh, I’ll see if Pumpetunia has anything to add.” He turned towards her and asked.

“"Una sonrisa bonita" [“A beautiful smile”]

Oh look, the Spanish word for “smile” looks like the English word “sunrise”. SYMBOLISM!

(Also, there’s that extra quotation mark again.)

“A beautiful smile.”

I have to admit, though, this joke is actually pretty fu-

“Right, beautiful smile….” Kira said, adding onto the drawing.

IT WASN’T A JOKE?!

"Y grandes hoyuelos" [“And big dimples”]

I remember the time in Biology class we had to do an assignment on genetic traits, and part of the assignment involved taking a list of various traits and writing down if we had them or not.

And one of the traits was dimples. And, according to our teacher, some people can have dimples that aren't visible unless they're making certain facial expressions.

“And large dimples!”

Cue a classroom full of students making bizarre faces into various reflective surfaces and/or their phone cameras, loudly asking “DO I HAVE DIMPLES??”

“Large…dimples…” Kira repeated.

Pumpetunia continued describing Twist.

“And the paint on her cheeks is chipped in a way that it looks like she has freckles!” Felipe translated.

So these living tools can have dimples just because, but instead of just having freckles they have to have “paint chipped in a way that it looks like [they] have freckles”? Writer, can we please have some consistency in the living tool logic?

“....Freckles…” Kira repeated. “And that should do it!”

She held up the paper to both of them. “Does this look like her.”

“Oh dang, where’d I put my question mark…”

“It’s perfect!” Felipe said.

Pumpetunia stroked the picture and sighed slightly. “La extraño.” [“I miss her.”]

“After breakfast we can head to the copyshop, and then hang the flyers around town.” Kira said, closing her sketchbook. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good to me!” Felipe said, before turning to Pumpetunia to ask her opinion.

"¡Eso suena genial!" [“That sound great!”] She agreed.

“She thinks it’s a great idea.” Felipe said.

“Great!” Lilly said. “Now let's order, I'm starving!

#marsmarvel02 does a review #review #fanfiction review #bad fanfic review #handy manny #what manny can't fix review

1 note · View note

josibunn · 4 months

Note

i think a euronymous story where reader gets super turned on by euro being all dark and angsty and seeing him be all mean to everyone, like someone messes with reader and he threatens them or beats them up???? maybe even fucks reader later talking about how he’s their protector and everything!!!! GOOD GOD, could definitely be so toxic but so hot

oh I like this one a lottttttt anon I love you.

nsfw, p in v, really possesive and mean euro, breeding kink, choking, the usual. use of the word queer in a derogatory manner but not by any important character.

you sat pretty behind the counter, faust on your side under the bunk watching tv as you flip through some mag, not paying any mind to the youngsters roaming the store.

everything was peaceful, euronymous was in the back sleeping, store was running smoothly, up until someone storms in, an older guy, with a record in hand. the stomping alerts you, but just as you raise your head he booms a loud “HEY,” which makes you jump and stand up straight at attention.

“how can I-” “you guys sold me bullshit,” he slides the record onto the counter, pushing your mag away. “I just bought this last night. the fuckin queer that was workin’ the other day told me it was limited edition, so why when I put it on nothing plays? huh?”

you try and recognize who he could be referring to, and in all honesty it could be hellhammer, but you brush past it in the sake of getting this guy the fuck outta here. “okay, uhm, f-faust can you tune this please so we can see what the problem is?” youre stammering as you take it out the paper casing and hand it over, “by not playing, do you mean just-” “there was no fucking music coming out of my record player. like is everyone dense in this store?” he scoffs, and you roll your eyes.

“ok, well, in all honesty,” you look back at the cover art. “I don’t know who was working last night but..with this particular band as a listener you’d know that they haven’t released in a decade, so you’d know they wouldn’t have a limited edition version released, that’s just..poor thinking on your part.” you shrug. “yeah, he’s right, no music, just static,” faust says.

“it wasn’t poor thinking, I was lied to. you guys are tryna fuckin scam me and I want a fuckin’ refund!” he points, and as you examine him you say, “sir I assure you, we’re not. it’s a record there’s gonna be a mishap here and there.“ you look over the receipt, “now we unfortunately cannot refund you, but you can chose something else from the store, perhaps another or the same album in vinyl or mixtape? or you could chose something completely different, but we cannot refund it.”

“you can’t refund it?! I fuckin bought it from this store and this store ripped me off! I want my money back!” he’s raising his voice, and as you try and reason with him, as shaky as your voice is, øystein stirs from his sleep, raising from the futon and listening in, grumbling as he stands and scratches his bare chest.

he’s shirtless with his lover half covered from pants to shoes, his face is sleep ridden and angry as his head pounds, groaning as the yelling gets louder. he opens the door to the shop, watching you shrink under the anger of the customer. “hey hey what the fucks the issue?!” hes grunting, hand still on the door as you turn in relief, you thought you were about to cry.

“his record wasn’t play-”

“someone sold me a busted album and-” “did I ask you? huh?” øystein interrupts the guy who interrupts you, stepping fully out of the room and by your side. “i’m talkin to my worker, ok? cause’ you’re not gonna yell at me or anyone in here like that. so you’re gonna wait your turn like everyone else is,” and surely a scene is caused as øysteins hand rests on your back, and he’s returning his attention back to you.

“what’s the issue.” “he’s saying whoever worked last night told him it was limited edition and he believe him, and when he went to play it it didn’t play any music.” øysteins head jerks back and peers at the cover art. “are you stupid? this band hasn’t released in a fuckin decade why would anything limited edition come out now?” hes tough with his words as he returns back to you. “that’s what I said, and I told him we can’t refund it but he can trade this out for the same album or get something else from the selection.”

øystein looks back at the guy, “what’s the problem here then??” “I want my fucking money back, your workers are idiots, your music runs like shit and I don’t want something else, I want to take my money elsewhere!” “well we can’t give you the fucking refund!” his voice is louder than the guys as he throws his hands out. “she just fucking told you that. we can’t give you the refund, period. we don’t do fucking refunds on records. so you can either get your fat ass out, or you can get something else and leave, alright? you don’t run shit here this isn’t your fucking store, and you’re definitely not gonna talk to anyone in here like that on my watch. so matter a fact,” he stands you up.

“what’re you’re gonna do is you’re gonna apologize to this sweet thing, and then you’re gonna either get the fuck outta my shop or get the fucking record and get the fuck out. chose one before I chose it for you.” he says, his hands resting on your shoulders. and in no way is euronymous taller than this guys but he’s angrier, and louder, and more intimidating.

he apologizes, and you and øystein watch him pick something and leave before he’s wrapping his hands around your waist, sighing. “you ok?” he asks, and though you were a little shaken up by the guy, you were moreso..turned on. really turned on, actually. you had goosebumps, and you were so wet you thought it was seeping through your pants.

his biceps were still flexed as his jaw was still clenched as he looked at you, fuck was he hot? “yeah, m’ok. he was just mean.” you shrug, though you’re not paying attention. you’re trying not to look at his bare chiseled chest. “are you ok?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes. “fuckin headache, n i’m tired, think I just started my period,” he grumbled, and you giggle as he kisses your cheek, you feel the tension come off him as he rubs your body.

he looks at the clock, “close up for me baby, i’ll heat up the car.” he pats your ass a goodbye before he’s heading out back, and you watch his hips as he leaves.

you’re reminiscing on the drive home, lip tucked between your teeth. god, who knew a man yelling could turn you on so much? and not just any man, your sexy man, yelling at your defense, because you’re his damsel. so you’re on him as soon as you enter your shared apartment, he’s caught off guard, kissing you back with a confused and amused hum, “baby what’s gotten into you,” he giggled cheekily, allowing you to tear off his shirt.

“you.” you huff, rejoining lips after chucking your own shirt. “you’re just..so hot.” you smirk in the kiss, your hands grabbing at his tiny hips.

and before you know it he’s pounding into you, sending you through the mattress as your back arches off the bed, moaning out as you grab onto the sheets under you. “you were..” you try n speak, drool pooling your mouth with each deep stroke of his long cock. “you were so hot back a the store.” you whisper, hands running down his shoulders and biceps, and he almost laughs.

“y’mean when I was chewin off that guys head? you liked that?” he tilts his head and you nod, “was really hot, sexy,” you moan, biting your lip as you reminisce. “and your voice was so nice and deep and..fuck you looked so hot yelling like that. fuckin loved it. love when you get all mean like that.” he’s soaking in this feeling, cheeks pink as he hides a smirk under his bit lip.

“you’re nasty baby.” he pants, and you grin and shrug, eyes shut. “he was fuckin crazy if he thought he was gonna talk to you like that,” he’s rolling his hips into yours as he brushes against that sweet spot deep inside you, and he knows what he’s doing, he wants to drag your orgasm out. “especially in my shop, shouldve fired faust for letting him talk to you like that.” he rolls his eyes, and he finds himself getting angry all over again.

“yellin at my fuckin girl, ‘cause he was a fuckin idiot, i’ll be damned.” his eyes shut as he shakes his eyes, and you’re barely listening, you’re so close, and he’s completely torturing you, edging you with each brush of your soft spot. “wakin me out my fuckin sleep over some bullshit? fuck,” he groans, raising up.

“onea these days imma fuck around and end up in jail over you baby, you know that?” he huffs, and when you don’t answer he grabs your cheeks, your eyes popping open. “you hear me baby? you’re my girl, kay? i’ll kill someone bout you.” his eyes are hard on yours, remembering how you looked at him when he stepped out the room to your rescue, tears in your eyes.

“you’re my girl, no one should be yelling at you like that, makin you cry. you fuckin serious? only reason you should be cryin’ is when i’m beatin’ this pussy in,” he says, and you’re whining, he should be doing that now >:(. “gotta keep my girl safe, can’t let anyone lay a finger on you, i’d kill em, fuck i’d kill them,” he says, and you choke when he grabs your neck, sending your head back and your back off the bed.

“doesn’t matter who. all I need is you anyway, you, and this fuckin pussy, and this baby imma’ put in you.” he nods as he rambles, eyes hard on you before he sends kisses to your sweet spot, finally giving you what you want what you’ve been chasing, it has you moaning out in relief, loud and high, eyes rolling back and hand grabbing his twist weakly. you don’t even have time to register what he says as his cock kisses you from the inside, your toes curling and tickling.

“that’s right baby, lemme have it.” he rasps, watching you with possession. he couldn’t imagine a world without you, let alone a scratch on your perfect body. “i’ll do anything for you baby, got that? say you understand.” with his hand still on your throat, his other hand cups your cheeks and hunches over to meet your face, nose ghosting yours, still sending deep strokes that has you clenching round him, your legs trembling in the air as you feel your orgasm rub over you with each declaration of love he spews from his mouth.

“yes baby, I-I understand I swear,” you moan desperately, your fingertips on his pecks so you don’t float off the bed, trying to ground yourself as he rocks your through your orgasm. tears roll down the side of your face through your hair, your stomach heaving as you tense up, clenching around him eagerly. “øystein,” you sob, “m’cummin, fuckin cumming oh my god, oh my god!” you moan high, and hes possibly sending you through your hardest orgasm yet but knowing him, he’ll try to outdo himself in the future.

his lashes flutter as he lets go of your throat and drops his hand down your arching back, “that’s fuckin it princess, sweet girl,” he smiles against your skin as his head ducks into your neck, because he was right, you were his sweet girl, you were his princess. his. he loved protecting you, and caring for you. he cumz in you shortly after you, and you’re both smiley and dazed, “you wanna put a baby in me?” you ask airily, and it makes him raise up from your neck, face pink and hair falling cutely against you.

“of course I do, want you to be mine forever.” he shrugs almost shyly as he traced shapes on your body, and you internally aww at him as your lips pout, he’s so cute. you give him a final kiss before flipping onto your sides and giving in for the night.

this is so unrelated but ughhh i’m getting back into my hamilton phase again, I feel fourteen I love it :3. I hope you don’t mind I took a sweet approach towards the end!! I just love when he’s soft. hope you enjoyed!!

join my taglist! @vanlisbon @sugarinte @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @auggiethecreator @wonkinoo @auryyz @brithedemonspawn

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #euronymous smut #euronymous #lords of chaos #lords of chaos smut #x black reader #eurory prompt

122 notes · View notes

chaosprinceundivided · 1 year

Text

The Price of Defeat

Rulek snarled. Even whilst being a phantom of his power, the Daemon Prince backhanded a neverborn from his presence before feeling another claim its numerous fangs into his essence. An offense that he met in kind with his claws bearing into its being and twisted, bringing the howling creature into his salivating maw. It fought and pushed but in the end, Rulek was the superior fragment of unbridled Chaos. The metamorphic gift of the Ruinous Power still held sway and as he devoured the loathsome creature, the former prince howled out into the Void.

“I am Rulek! God-slayer! I will not be forsaken for my defeat in my greatest triumph!”

There was a moment. Silence. Then a rolling thunder of true power. The sound of countless laughter melding into one. Then two. Then three. And finally, it was the War God who slammed into Rulek like a great hammer. His being flew back but he gathered himself, the overpowering influence was turning his form into that of unbridled fury and seething contempt.

“You think yourself above the countless souls to scream, curse and die for our amusement, Worm!? You have provided enough entertainment to be but another haunting in that damned temple with the whelps cursed there.”

“You dare lie to me, Lord of Blades!?” Rulek snapped back, caring not of his own existence. His tongue lashed with burning honesty that scorned any thought of softness or careful wording. He is Death. “You needed me as much as I needed you, by the end of this - it comes down to my use and I still have it!”

The giggling at his side tickled and burned his ear, Their presence slithered its influence through his ether-flesh like venom. “Oh, so bold. So shameless. Tis why I find you so attractive, Yuri.” Slaanesh’s voice whispered lovingly behind him and Khorne snarled with a face too far stretched and vicious for mortal conceiving but Rulek could see one of his benefactors as clear as a storm.

His hateful eyes squinted and reared back his doggish maw wreathing of infernal iron and tongue licking behind fangs. “I don’t explain myself to lowly dogs.” Khorne sneered, lifting his crimson fist. His intent was clear to smite Rulek like a gnat to his unbinding might but the sudden hands of perfumed flesh covered the little daemon like a mother, if it wasn’t for the twinned pairs of sword-like pincers aimed to strike upon the wrathful other.

“Eh, eh. You will not touch him,’ Slaanesh purred akin to a leopardess. ‘You have no single power over our creature, Khorne.”

And when They pulled their hands away, Rulek found himself shifting and changing helplessly like a Chaos Spawn from the numerous appearances that he could, should and have taken as the eye of their power. A deep, gurgling thyroid rolled in a great billow of a laugh, “Look at him. He is so aimless without us, the little witch did well in abusing him and truly brought such needed humility.”

Nurgle’s rot-swollen finger caressed and scratched its ugly black nail over Rulek like a kitten behind his ear and neck, stabilizing him in the most unwanted way. His hide greyed and hardened, returning him back into a gargoylish figure. His horns standing in arched regalia from his maned skull, wings flapped and folded in the emptiness. It took but a thought to center himself before the Ruinous Powers themselves as the crooning purr of the Fate-master made his appearance.

Countless eyes wondering and focusing from his sibling-gods to the creatures they bound to their will, and even now, it stood before them willful and true as the Kislevite the prince was born from.

“He is but one of the countless puppets that we can use…till it is nothing but a worthless shell. It will never know if it is worthless now or future uses.” Tzeentch hissed, voice shifting from a sly serpent to a chuckling noble that had his plans already weaving within the originals. “Maybe we just destroy it now and make better servants from its ether.”

Rulek shifted, the sprout of feathers crawling up his arm to shoulder like an attached cloak of gradient colors. “I will destroy the enemies I vowed to destroy. Be’lakor dared to betray us in his arrogance, don’t deny me his soulstuff, Eminent Ones!” He spoke out, “I have led the Tzarina to her weak god and she was never a meek opponent to battle, she had fought with the fury of her forebears and a nation that deserve better worship. Your worship!”

“Our worship?” Slaanesh cooed, They were intrigued on what little promises this soul dared to barter on the edge of their disfavour. Then again, their disfavor was different. Rulek had given respect onto the Four Gods accordingly and Khorne was merely slighted without a great temple made from one of the great cities that the Daemon Prince razed in his path of destruction. The irritation proved a sweet wine to the Prince of Princes.

“Your boons and attention have allowed me see beyond my faith onto Weakness.” Rulek said, turning to Slaanesh. “From the fires of war’s anvil that shape every man and woman that call themselves Kislevite. From the desires bared from the shells of righteousness, I have indulged and tasted many freedoms. And I dare to stand against the stagnation that my countrymen have suffered through by the Tzardom and the great faiths that have risen to ensure our ‘fortitude’.’

‘If I be the Great Plague to be that revelation, then so be…I am the Child of Kislev and I will see her baptized into something far greater than Ursun and his pantheon dare see her.”

The Four were silent for a moment but their intrigue rolled over him like a summer’s breeze. The many fragrances twisting and whirling.

“Such a good way with words, truly a Scion of the Liar and Indulgent.” Khorne said with baring teeth. “However, we will see if words are all you are skilled, whelp.” Rulek turned and threw his wing out like a cloak, opening his hand out to the Blood God. His wavering aura was turning the metamorphic Prince’s hand red and scaled.

“You know the skulls that I will deliver for my passion. Have not I taken your Gatekeeper’s and that of the great gladiators that defended your indomitable stronghold, my Lord? I am not a warrior wanting and I will deliver thrice that in your name till a great monolith of bone and iron brazen of your mark. None, not even your Everchosen will complete what I want.”

“Is that so?” The Brass King challenged and despite all of his rage and disdain, a warrior can never throw a chance of proving a perceived lesser wrong.

“What of me?” Slaanesh swooned, leaning down and lovingly looked at this dashing little fool. A smile edging of a lover’s curl and spider’s barely restrained hunger. “What do you swear onto me, Sweet Rulek? You have given me so much and I want more.”

“To you, My Prince Above All. I desire to have six thousand and six voices singing your praises, until your name shake the very snow from the mountains. Perhaps…an idol crafted from bleeding dwarven hands, made from their precious gold and jewels. One that surpasses their gods’ own. From your carved feet, I will begin a temple-fortress from the backs of slaves whipped by your Daemonettes and become ever-noticed from the North. The South. The West and East. Your very presence never unseen.”

What was the answer was a pleasured purr and a talon reached, oh so careful in touching…and carving into Rulek with an explosion of pleasuring pain riding from his shoulder to ribs and groin. His ether bleeding as he hissed out at this torturous caress that was a sign of favour as much as punishment ever daring to fail the Great Daemon Patriarch-Matriarch of Sensation.

“You will do me proud, God-Slayer…for your continuing existence.” Slaanesh lulls, lifting his finger away to see the festering scarification that renewed the Brand of Undivided in weeping freshness before licking his taloned tip.

Rulek shuddered and paralyzed before his wound started to ooze and pulsate feverish, he felt his throat and breath heathen as if on the edge of a illness beyond even his daemonic nature. “Oh Brother-Sister, do not wound our boy so. If he is make these promises, he better of most pleasant health.” Nurgle said, ‘However, whilst we will allow this - you will not be given complete favour. One must be given the right punishment for failing his fathers so. Yes?”

The Lord of Rot smiled a stretch of his crackling, bleeding maw more ugily, lined of jagged teeth that were pristine as much hideous with warp-flies buzzing their million wings in his composure.

“Most right, Old Man.” Tzeentch hissed before cackling the sound of a hundred ravens mocking. Oddly the least spoken of the Four in this meddling, Rulek knew better than to assume he was beyond the Master of Magic’s scheming notice and it was He who waved his multi-jointed hand, throwing Their servant into the winds. His form became a part of it, flying to the madness that was waiting for Rulek. A great vortex was pulling him to hurtle him beyond…

For a new war was brewing. Zanbijin was won - or perhaps the game was still being played - Rulek doesn’t know, time and events were as flexible as they were mute in the Realms of Chaos. All things were, is, shall, and will be here. No matter the naysay of Mortals who only see the canon written.

#n: immortal empires

1 note · View note

cattyb2 · 2 years

Text

What Have You Done?

Summary: Y/N helps Anakin on a mission when he comes down with a fever from a wound he was trying to hide from her.

Warnings: fluff, sick!anakin, wounded!anakin

“Master Y/N!” I heard my name from the entrance to the training room. Obi-wan and I stopped training both putting our light sabers to our sides as I turned to Master Windu.

“Good morning Master Windu,” I said, strapping my light saber to my belt, walking over to him.

“Y/N, I’m afraid we’ve got some problems on Tatooine. Master Yoda’s ship has been destroyed, and need him to be picked up immediately. We fear he could be in danger.”

“Yes Master, I’ll leave immediately.” I said, starting to walk away.

“Master Y/N! Take Anakin with you, he needs a break from his Padawan. Let Ahsoka train with Obi-wan .” I chuckled, knowing how easy it is to piss off Anakin, and having someone follow him around 24/7 occasionally gets on his nerves. Well, it’s not even that, sometimes I think it’s just her.

The elevator ride was quick, and I grabbed my ropes and headed towards Anakin’s apartment. Ahsoka was leaving, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy.

“Hey,” I started but she stormed past me. “Ahsoka!” I yelled after her, not rudely but in worry. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry Master Y/N, I meant no disrespect.” She said, trying to wipe her eyes as if I didn’t notice how she looked.

“Ahsoka, I don’t care about that. Are you alright?”

“Yes, Master Anakin, he’s just in a bad mood today.”

“A bad enough mood to bring you to tears?” She didn’t respond to my question, she just looked in the other direction. I sighed, knowing how Anakin can get. “Anakin is not the easiest person to get a long with,”

“You and everyone else seems to have no problem with him-“ she cut me off.

“That’s because I’ve known him basically his entire life, and he knows I won’t put up with his crap. And he knows what happens when he sasses the rest of the council. I’m not defending him, but he’s had a hard life. Sometimes he just forgets that we are his friends and not his foe.” She didn’t say anything, still wiping her eyes. “We’ll lucky for you I’m taking him off your hands for the rest of the day, Master Windu has requested for you to be with Master Obi-wan for the rest of the day. You can meet him in the training room.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, running off. I sighed again, rubbing my head. If Anakin had enough anger or stress to snap at his Padawan he’s not going to be in a good mood at all. I walked up to his door, and knocked on it. There was no answer, so I knocked again.

“Anakin! We got to go, open up!” I shouted through the door. It opened slowly, and Anakin appeared, looking ready to go. I was about to ask him about what he had said to his poor padawan until I looked at his face. His normal tan was gone, and his normally darker lips where pale, paler than his skin was. The scar on his face almost looked darker, like he’d just gotten it. He had bags under his eyes that dropped so low they could hit the floor, and his nose was red. “You look worse than normal.” I joked, watching him roll his eyes.

“Yeah Y/N, great. That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He said walking out of the door and closing it behind him. Clearly he was in no mood for jokes.

“Anakin, stop. You look horrible, go to bed, I can do this mission on my own.”

“No you’re not. I’m not letting you go somewhere alone.”

“It’s nowhere bad. Just to Tatooine to rescue Master Yoda. His ship was destroyed. No fighting, just a pick up. Besides, I’ve very capable of doing something without you, you know.” I reasoned, choosing poorly to throw in another joke.

“And what if you run into trouble, love. You need me.” I quickly looked around, making sure no one was near. Yes, we both knew that secretly everyone else knew about us. But we’ve been warned countless times to not engage with each other in this way. Neither of us really cared, but we both agreed to not bring it to light around anyone else. Oh please, you act like they don’t all know we are together. Obi-wan practically set us up.”

“You don’t need to flaunt it to all of Coruscant!”

“Come on princess, let’s go save Master Yoda.” He stalked away from me, walking slower, and what I could have sworn was a limp.

Boarding the ship I kept a close eye on Anakin. I convinced him to let me fly, and he’d be the co-pilot. This was a good choice as I noticed he was asleep before we even left Coruscant. Everything was in order, and we would soon reach Tatooine soon. I motioned for one of the droids, talking to them I let them take control of the ship.

“Anakin,” I whispered going towards his seat. “Anakin honey, can you get up?” He didn’t wake up, after the multiple attempts. I placed my hand against his forehead, pulling it back as my hand burned from his skin.

“Love?” He said, opening his eyes.

“Come on, there’s a bed on board.” I said gripping his arm and pulling him up.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” He said, pulling out of my grasp.

“Oh please, you look like death, you’re burning up, and I’m guessing this is the reason you were so rude to Ahsoka. I’m not even leaving the ship, Yoda and the droids are just boarding and then we’re going back to Coruscant. No need to be awake, and no need to worry. Now please Ani, get some sleep.”

“You always know how to sweet talk me,”

I rolled my eyes, smiling a bit at his remark.

“I’ll sweet talk you more when you’re feeling better.”

“Then hurry up and get me to bed, I can’t miss that.”

I opened the door to the small room, and he fell onto the bed.

“I’ll wake you up when we’re back on Tatooine.” I said, helping him cover himself with the blanket. He smiled towards me and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately. I walked back to the front of the ship, watching as the planet came into view.

—

“Welcome Master,” I said opening the hatch for Yoda and a couple droids to enter the ship.

“Thank you, Master Y/N, home I do miss. Go back now we must.”

“Coruscant isn’t far Master Yoda, we’ll be home soon.”

“Alright are you?” He asked me, sitting down in a chair.

“Yes, why would you think i wasn’t?” I asked him.

“Pain, suffering I feel.”

“Well Anakin came too, he wasn’t feeling good so he’s laying in the back.” I answered, starting to get a strange feeling crawling up my neck. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay.” I said. Yoda only nodded at me, like he knew. Like he knew Anakin wasn’t okay, like he knew it was serious, like he knew I loved him. I turned towards the bedroom and sprinted across the long ship. My heart was racing, and for the first time in a long time, I felt fear. I pressed the button to open the door, and just like Yoda predicted, he was in pain. He was curled in a ball, body shaking as he was wheezing.

“Anakin!” I yelled, running towards him. His eyebrows were furrowed and his face was scrunched. “Anakin look at me please,” I pleaded, resting both of my hands on the sides of his face. Sweat was dripping down his brow as he looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I knew you’d worry and you’ve been so busy recently,”

“What are you talking about Ani?” He opened up his rope, and lifted up the hem of his shirt. Under it was torn skin and the start of an infection. I didn’t know what to say, I just stared at the wound. From the looks of it it looks like a blaster shot skimmed him. “When did this happen? You fool Anakin! Thinking you’d just let this slide because I was stressed? Did you not think of your health? Did you not think of yourself? Why in all the planets would you let this happen!” I exclaimed.

He didn’t respond, laying back down. Sweat was still pouring from his forehead and the wound moved with how hard he was breathing. My eyes watered looking at him, I didn’t understand why I wanted to cry. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t truly that angry, seeing him in pain like that clouded my mind.

“I’m going to go grab the medical droid, I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N, please I’m fine just stay here. Please.”

Never once in my whole life have I heard Anakin beg, never has he pleaded for anything. That’s what fueled me to go get help.

“I’ll be back in one minute, I’m sorry Ani, I have to.”

I ran, ran across the already small ship, but it seemed to get larger with every step I took. I found the medical droid talking by Yoda. I touched his shoulder, and his mechanical body turned to me.

“Please, you have to help. Anakin is laying down and he’s hurt, hurt badly.” I rushed out. The droid starting making his way to the room and I followed, Master Yoda walking quickly behind me as well. The droid opened the door, and Anakin was still shaking, sweating and groaning in the small bed. The droid went over to him, and asked for us to please leave the room. I opened my mouth to protest but Yoda gave me a look, and I knew there was no point to argue.

I paced back and forth outside the door. “Y/N, careful you must be. Rules you know.”

—

We didn’t speak until we got back to Coruscant. Yoda wandered off, probably to inform the council of what had happened. I hadn’t moved from my spot outside the door, and the droids did not allow me to enter. Clones ushered me off the ship before Anakin, gripping my shoulders and pulling me off.

“Let me go!“ I yelled, shoving them off. I was worried, worried why he wasn’t getting rushed off this ship, and worried why I was getting dragged away.

“Y/N!” Obi-wan’s voice rang out grabbing my attention. He paced over to me and grabbed me out of the clones grasp.

“Anakin’s hurt, he needs to see someone and they haven’t taken him off the ship he-“

“Anakin will be fine, he always is. He’s Anakin, the kid could survive the world ending. He will be okay. Why don’t you come inside, relax for a bit.”

I didn’t want to relax, I wanted Anakin off the ship and rushed to get help. And I didn’t relax, not for the rest of the day, and when the sky was dark I did not sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what they weren’t telling me. Why they kept him hidden. It could be because maybe we have gotten to obvious with our relationship. But I did not want to believe it was because of his condition. I sat on the wavy shaped couch in my apartment, my head between my hands. I didn’t cry, maybe because I didn’t want to, but I just kept it there, and I didn’t pick my head up until a soft knock on my door the next morning.

“Y/N?” Obi-wan opened the door just enough to peak his head into my apartment. I lifted my head from my hands for the first time and stared at him. I had to energy to go rushing over to him, no energy to even ask if I could see him, because I knew that was a lost cause. “He’s back in his place, moved him in this morning. They want him to rest for the rest of the day , but I can sneak you in for a bit.” I perked up at that, pushing off my couch and following him out of my apartment and towards Ani’s.

—

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” I whispered to him, and disappeared into Anakin’s place.

The apartment was quiet and dark, and I walked as softly as I could to his bedroom, not wanting to wake him up if he was asleep.

“You don’t have to be quiet, I’m more than awake in here.” The sound of his voice filled me with hope and happiness. It is like coming home after a long day, it is like flying with nothing in front or behind you but the stars. I ran to his bedroom door, fully opening it and looking at him.

His hair was clean, some parts still wet. He laid propped up, pillows behind his spine and a thick cotton bandage wrapped around his waist. His muscles and abs flexed as he shifted slightly.

“By all means, whenever you’re done staring,” he said, opening his arms out. I scoffed to him, rolling my eyes at the comment, at least that means he’s feeling better. I moved to his left side, careful not to lean on his wound, and rested my head in the crook of his neck.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked quietly, not upset with him, but just confused. He let out a small sigh, bringing his arms to wrap around my frame.

“I didn’t want you to worry I guess. I knew how much they’ve been putting you through, and I didn’t want to add to that.”

“Next time Ani, just admit you’re hurt. Don’t play this invincible hero shit, I don’t need to feel how I felt yesterday ever again.”

“I’m sorry love, it won’t happen again.” The apology was sincere, though I wasn’t looking for one. I brought my head out from by his neck and smiled to him, and he smiled right back. I leaned up slightly and placed my lips on his. We stayed like this for the remainder of the day, and frankly I didn’t care if anyone needed me. I didn’t care if anyone was looking for me. I bet Obi-wan was covering for me, knowing I wasn’t planning on leaving his apartment for the night, not like Anakin would even let me try.

#anakin fluff #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars anakin

384 notes · View notes