Tumgik
#she wants to survive but she'll do it over the bodies of those she should care for. even abel when she's backed into enough of a corner.
muninnhuginn · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
This is probably my favourite panel in the last few chapters of Rebirth tbh (yes, including the time/mirror aesthetics) just because of the impact.
You know that comic with the crows where one asks the other if they think they're friends in another universe and then you zoom out and see all these other timelines where they're always a part of each other's life? It's the complete opposite of that. So many different timelines and not a single one where his mother loved him.
15 notes · View notes
bella-rose29 · 4 months
Text
Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 4
Christmas Eve, and the day of the party.
once again I maintain the idea that lockwood has his tea as a Cameron special (for absolutely no reason, they've just merged into one being in my mind)
Word count: 3.2k
Warnings: swearing, family members being mean, lockwood never put his pyjamas back on, I should mention now that they're 18 for plot and ethical reasons, mentions of body image issues, innuendos?
series master list
(image credit to @sxnflowersa_tv on pinterest)
Tumblr media
When Y/n woke up the next morning, her first thought was that she was cold.
Her second was that she was in a double bed and not her usual tiny single in Portland Row, and the third was panic at seeing her boss shirtless.
Lockwood's blanket had slipped at some point in the night, and so when she sat up and stretched she was met with the sight of him sleeping soundly in the armchair, his pyjamas folded neatly on the small table next to him. How he wasn't freezing to death she wasn't sure, but then Lockwood had never made sense to her. One minute he was all smiles and charm and then the next he was saying something completely opposite into her ear, and she was left to figure out which version was the real Lockwood.
Today would be difficult, and they had to come to some sort of understanding if they were going to survive the hell that they would soon be entering.
Lockwood didn't look comfortable at all, with his neck at an odd angle and his legs curled up underneath him (he was bound to get pins and needles when he woke up), and Y/n felt the smallest pang of pity before a knock sounded on the bedroom door.
"Are you two awake?" Her mother questioned, likely wanting to know if they wanted tea. Y/n clambered out of bed and leaned against the door.
"Uh, I am," she whispered. "Lock- Anthony's still asleep."
"Right, well do you think he'll want a cup of tea? I'm heading down to make a pot now."
"Oh, yeah. He has it weird though, with sugar and honey."
"I'll pop those on the tray, then, and he can put in what he wants."
"Thanks Mum." She heard her mother shuffle and head down the stairs, knees clicking as she went, and turned back to look at her fake boyfriend. "Fuck," she said, a horrible realisation dawning on her. Lockwood couldn't be in the armchair when her mother brought in the tea, or she'd wonder if they'd had an argument. Walking over, she gave his arm a quick prod.
No response.
She tried again, harder this time, and when he stirred a little she cheered internally. "Lockwood?" she whisper-shouted, giving him a proper shove.
"What? What is it?" He was bolt upright almost immediately, scanning for any signs of danger and reaching for Y/n. "Is everything alright?"
"Uh... yes," she said slowly. "Mum's making tea, and when she brings it in you can't be in the chair or she'll have questions." She stared down at his hand where it was grabbing her pyjama top (an old oversized t-shirt), his knuckles white. "You... you can let go of me now, Lockwood."
"Oh. Right." He retracted his hand, but not before letting it hover in the space between them for a few seconds. He stood up, the blanket falling, and Y/n immediately turned around.
"Why are you naked?!"
"I am not! I got hot in the night so I took my pyjamas off! I still have my pants on, thank you very much!"
"Well put your pyjamas back on!" she shrieked, pressing her hands over her face (despite still having her back to him) and desperately hoping she could delete the image from her brain. She had thought he'd only taken his top off, but since he wore matching pyjamas the pile of clothes on the table had looked like one thing, not two. She could hear him hopping around while he attempted to quickly pull his trousers on, and after a minute or so he cleared his throat.
"Alright, I'm dressed." Y/n turned around slowly, scared that he was joking, and sighed in relief when she realised that he wasn't. "Such a drama queen," he muttered under his breath, clearly not wanting her to hear as he looked to his left with a red face.
"I am not a drama queen, Lockwood. If anybody is the drama queen it's you. Now get in the bed." She pointed at it, glare on her face.
"If you wanted me to sleep with you you could have let me do that last night," he smirked, and she threw a decorative pillow at him.
"Just get in the bed, Lockwood." She went to grab a second pillow when he wriggled his eyebrows at her, and he quickly stopped and pulled back the covers. When he was finally settled she climbed in next to him.
"Y/n."
"What?"
"You should probably come a bit closer." He wasn't wrong, since they were as far away from each other as they could get, but she stubbornly refused to cosy up to him when she didn't need to just yet.
"Hang on." She'd spotted the blanket still crumpled on the floor, and hurried to pick it up just as she heard her mother coming up the stairs. Chucking it over the armchair she rushed back to the bed, pulling the duvet over her just as the door opened.
"Fuck's sake, come here," Lockwood whispered, harshly tugging on her arm and then wrapping his arm around her waist. "Ah, good morning, Emma!"
"Morning! Just got some tea for you here," she put the tray down on Y/n's bedside table and paused for a moment as she took in the two of them in the bed. "How did you sleep? Hopefully you feel rested enough for today?"
"Oh I slept beautifully, thank you." Lockwood beamed up at Emma, and Y/n wondered if she knew that his fingers were stroking the skin of her stomach under her top where it had ridden up.
"I'm glad to hear it! Well, I'll leave you to it!" They both smiled until Y/n's mother was out of the room, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind her they shot away from each other.
"I hope we never have to do that again."
"We'll have to do it tomorrow morning, darling."
"Nobody else is here, you don't need to keep calling me that."
"Ah, yes. Sorry, Schmoopie."
"I hate you. I'm going to poison your tea." She was getting the mugs ready now, adding extra honey to one and pouring in the water over the tea bags.
"And I will happily drink it."
A few minutes later (she'd had to let the tea stew for a bit) she poured in the milk and handed over his mug.
"Did you add in the sugar?"
"Yep."
"And the honey?"
"You watched me do it, Lockwood."
"Right, yes. I did." He was quiet for a moment, staring into the contents of his mug. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied, mild shock running through her at the sincerity of his gratitude.
They drank their tea in silence.
~~~
"So, just to recap, there are around fifty people coming over today?"
"Yep," Y/n said through a mouthful of cereal. "All extended family members and close family friends and their families. I've been thinking about it, and as much as it pains me to say it I think... ugh," she scowled into her bowl. "I think you're right abo-"
"Ha! Finally! I got you to say it! About what?"
"If you'd let me finish, you would know, idiot."
"Oh, yes. Sorry."
"I think you're right about needing to do a big speech to everyone all in one go about..." she gestured between the two of them vaguely, "us."
"Ah. Yes, it would save a lot of time, wouldn't it?"
"Hm, it would. And then we only have to remember things once really."
"Remind me again what the story was?" They were sat in the kitchen, the only ones up other than Y/n's mother (who was upstairs getting things ready).
"What was 8 months ago?"
"Why 8 months?" Lockwood frowned over his second mug of tea that morning.
"Because that's what I told Steph last night."
"Oh. Uh, April I think? There was that one job we went on in March, just the two of us. We could stick pretty close to the truth then if we used that as a death scare that made you realise that you couldn't possibly live without me."
"Wasn't the story that you realised you were hopelessly in love with me one day and asked me out, but I refused multiple times until eventually I gave in to get you to shut up?"
"Well, yes. But I just think that- morning, Stephanie." His smile was clearly forced, and Y/n realised with a start that she was beginning to be able to tell which of his smiles were real.
"Morning you two. Hopefully you didn't get too frisky last night after that adorable kiss under the mistletoe!"
"No, we-"
"Well, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Stephanie," Lockwood smirked, and Y/n rolled her eyes at his interruption. Her cousin was lapping it up, and after a few minutes the kitchen was filled with various members of Y/n's family as they all filed in, bleary eyed and reaching for tea and coffee. They would have to figure out their story while they got ready for the party, since they definitely couldn't get details straight with so many people in the room.
"Morning, Squeak," her brother Will murmured as he sat on a stool next to her at the counter. Y/n scoffed at the nickname, but there was nothing resentful behind it. "Sleep alright?"
"Yeah, did you?" He nodded in response as he started shovelling mouthfuls of cereal in, the bowl nearly spilling over with the amount of food in it.
"Lover boy didn't give you too much grief last night, did he?"
"No, he was alright."
"Hey, if you need a break at any point today come and find me, yeah? I'll fend off any inquisitive relatives."
"Thanks, Will." He was only a couple of years older than her, being the third youngest of her brothers, but Will liked to act as though he was the oldest of all of the L/n siblings. In fairness Tom was eleven and Sam and John who were thirty and twenty-eight respectively were rarely home or in contact with her, and she didn't have as much of a bond with them. Olivia was a year younger than Y/n, but since they had shared a room growing up they had fought consistently over the years about completely irrelevant things and barely talked outside of gatherings.
"Anytime. I think me and the boys were gonna take your lover boy away at some point to give him the proper talk, so if you can't find any of us later that'll be why."
"Please stop calling him 'lover boy', Will," she grimaced, not noticing Lockwood come up behind her.
"But I am your lover boy, darling." She whipped her head around to see Lockwood leaning against the counter next to her with a soft smile.
Weird. She'd thought he would be smirking instead.
Will snorted, then tipped his bowl up to drink the last of the milk. "You two," he said after he'd finished, "are quite possibly the most sickening thing I have ever seen."
~~~
"Is a suit too much, do you think?"
"Maybe leave the tie," Y/n called out from the bathroom where she was getting changed. She had long since pulled on the burgundy dress, but not knowing when Lockwood would be in a state where she could walk out meant that she had spent the last five minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was absolutely certain that multiple people would make comments about her figure, or compare her to Stephanie, or both, and she was dreading leaving the bathroom. Then there would be the comments about her job, and how being an agent was a terrible choice and she should have gone into full-time education instead.
"Y/n? You can come out when you're ready."
She sighed shakily, taking one last look at herself in the mirror above the sink before unlocking the door and stepping out.
Lockwood was in one of his usual suits, pink socks poking out from under his trousers, and he was just sorting out his cuffs when he looked up and froze. When he still didn't say anything Y/n's mind started racing ahead to all the different possibilities.
"I look awful, don't I? I'll get my jeans and jumper and get changed, give me a minute."
"No!" Lockwood shouted, his arms outstretched. He hesitated, then spoke again, and his voice was back to how it sounded when he was being an arse. "No, don't do that, just... you look fine like that and we'll be late if you get changed now."
"Oh. Alright." She frowned, wrapping her arms around her midriff as she inspected Lockwood's outfit. "Wait, don't move," she called out when he went to move. Y/n walked over to him, then reached up to straighten out his collar. It had been sticking up, so she smoothed her hands over it to right it, letting them linger on his chest afterwards. He wasn't moving, and she was quite sure that he wasn't breathing either, and when she looked up at him she realised that she was holding her breath too.
They hadn't been this close since they kissed the night before, and then they'd had an audience.
Now it was just the two of them, alone in the room.
"Y/n?" Lockwood asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Yeah?" Had his face moved closer? Suddenly she could make out the individual colours in his eyes and was able to count the freckles on his cheeks. He licked his lips, tilting his head slightly to brush his nose against hers, and she felt her eyes fluttering closed.
"Are you two nearly ready? Emma needs help getting food and things ready for the guests!" A loud knock accompanied the shrill voice of Y/n's Aunt Linda, and the pair of them sprang apart, clearing their throats and avoiding eye contact. Y/n marched over to the door and wrenched it open, plastering a smile on her warm face.
"We're ready! Anthony? You coming?"
"Yeah, just... I'll be down in a minute, darling. I just need to use the loo." He flashed the two women a smile, then disappeared into the en-suite. Y/n could have killed him for leaving her alone, but maybe that was for the best given what had just happened.
"Come on then," Linda said, and ushered her downstairs.
~~~
Everyone was busy doing something, and everything was in complete chaos.
"Oh, that can go over there. Tom, don't put that in your mouth, please. No, over there, Ben. Tom! Not in your mouth! You're eleven, this shouldn't be difficult! Boys, please stop mucking about and do something useful! Over there- oh for god's sake, give it here!" Y/n's mother snatched a plate of food away from her husband, rushing between the kitchen and the dining room that was through the open double doors off to the side. The whole area would be brimming with guests in less than thirty minutes, and things were still being put out. "Oh, you're here, that's perfect. Where's Anthony? Never mind, no time. Here, you can put this next to the thingy there!" Luckily Y/n had grown up with her mother's distracted way of talking and knew exactly what she meant, taking the opportunity to run away from Linda.
The next ten minutes followed the same pattern of being handed things and told to put them in various spots on the table, and Lockwood was nowhere to be seen for any of it. Y/n was starting to worry that he'd flushed his skinny beanpole of a frame down the toilet.
"Where's your boyfriend, Y/n?" Stephanie asked, sidling up in a stunning silver dress that looked as though it had been painted on her.
"In the toilet. Are you gonna help, Steph?"
"Oh, you're... wearing that again?" she asked, ignoring Y/n's tired request for help. "Didn't you wear that last year? You've put on a bit of weight since then, haven't you!" She let out a laugh, and Y/n brought her arms around her stomach self-consciously for the second time since putting on the dress. Maybe she should have ignored Lockwood and got changed anyway. At least then when people complained about her outfit she'd be more comfortable in her own body. "Well, personally I think you should get it let out a little, Y/n. You do look awfully-"
"Beautiful?" a voice questioned from Y/n's right, and after a second someone else's arms were around her waist, pulling her back against a warm chest. "She does look stunning, doesn't she?"
"Anthony," Y/n breathed when he spun her around to face him, his hands holding hers tightly. He was smiling one of those private smiles reserved for the people he cared about, small and gentle, and her heart jumped in her chest.
"I... I suppose," Stephanie said, sounding confused. It was so typical of her to not think of her cousin as anything other than a way to make herself look better. Y/n barely noticed when her cousin drifted off, or when her brother picked up his camera and took a photo of the two of them framed by the lights that had been draped over the doorframe, since all she could focus on was the feel of her hands being held by Lockwood and the way he was looking at her.
"Aww, aren't they just adorable!" Y/n's grandmother Jean said loudly, catching the attention of everybody nearby. Apparently half of the guests had arrived on time (of course the one time that happened was the time she had to pull off a huge fake dating stunt), because the kitchen and dining room were packed with people. Murmurs of assent travelled around, and Y/n could hear a few people questioning who the tall young man next to her was, and suddenly her heart was plummeting rather than jumping, and she felt sick.
"Hey," Lockwood whispered, still smiling at her. "We can do this, alright? It's only today and most of tomorrow, and then we're back in London. It's really not that long when you think about it."
He needed to stop being nice to her, because it was freaking her out.
One minute he was saying she looked fine and not seeming to care much about what she looked like, and the next he was declaring that she was beautiful and stunning with such sincerity that she couldn't help but think it was real.
"So this is the boyfriend Linda told us about, huh?" one guest asked.
"Um... yes," Y/n replied, moving closer to Lockwood and curling into his side, trying not to look too stiff and petrified when his arm came around her side. "This is Anthony." She gestured up at him, feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the fact that around thirty people all had their eyes on her, and any one of them could work out that this relationship was a farce and completely destroy any good reputation that she had amongst her family.
"How did it all start? Go on, give us the story!" somebody called out.
"Yeah, we all want to know!" exclaimed a different voice. "Y/n/n's never had a boyfriend before!"
Y/n shared a glance with Lockwood, and he opened his mouth to speak.
part 5
Tumblr media
Tag list (I think this is everyone): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife
let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3
179 notes · View notes
strwbmei · 3 months
Note
Hi Mei, Can I ask a relantionship hcs sfw and nsfw for Aponia with a gender-neutral if possible, please? You are free to ignore this if you like
Tumblr media
pairing(s): aponia x gn!reader
contains:
Tumblr media
Aponia HCs
╰┈➤ SFW ;
: ̗̀➛ Aponia was really hesitant to get into a relationship with you at first. She's seen many horrible things happen to those that she loves, and she knows better than anyone that she can't do anything to change it. Still, like a moth to a flame, she can't help but find herself drawn to your radiating warmth. Perhaps this time, she deserves to be selfish.
: ̗̀➛ The Deep End is a cold and dark place— one where normal humans most likely wouldn't be able to survive for more than a few days. Because of how long Aponia has isolated herself in it, her body has learned to adapt, lowering its temperature to match its environment. She can also see in the dark much better, which is pretty cool.
: ̗̀➛ Because of this, Aponia would always shy away from your touch. Believe me, it was much to her annoyance, but she had grown insecure about being so cold (literally and figuratively) and she didn't want to scare you away with it. She was especially hesitant to hold hands because they were the coldest part of her body, but she learned to be more comfortable over time.
: ̗̀➛ If the two of you have a disagreement (which is near impossible, by the way; my girl Aponia can never be wrong,) it's really obvious to everyone else because of how weird and aloof she acts. For example, she barely ever leaves the Deep End, but suddenly you'll find her in the lobby drinking with either Elysia or Eden with a somber look on her face; sighing every few seconds and completely ignoring Elysia's bombardment of questions. The Flamechasers find a great deal of amusement seeing how you're so easily able to influence a woman usually so dangerous and cunning.
: ̗̀➛ Expect her to be the more dominant one in the relationship, taking the lead and making decisions (with your input too, of course!) because she's used to being the one giving orders. Despite that, though, she's actually really inexperienced with relationships so it's more of a team effort; the team consisting of you, Aponia, and Elysia because she helps you get through to Aponia more and somehow manages to offer the best relationship advice.
: ̗̀➛ Aponia doesn't really get jealous, at least at first. She got upset, but she used to have the mindset that if you like someone else more, you should simply choose them instead and she'll accept the decision you make. Over time, she grows to be more greedy and possessive of you. Because of this, she really appreciates it when you give her reassurance that you're hers and hers only even when she doesn't ask for it.
: ̗̀➛ When Griseo started calling you Mama/Papa, Aponia almost shed a tear. Griseo is almost like a daughter to her, and hearing her call you that only further solidified the fact that you were the person she'd want to spend the rest of eternity with.
Tumblr media
╰┈➤ NSFW ;
: ̗̀➛ First of all, set a safe word. Seriously. Her libido is low, but every time the two of you have sex it always ends with you not being able to walk for months. Set a safe word if you value your life or if you don't want your pelvic bone to get turned into dust like actually. I'm not exaggerating; this woman goes rough.
: ̗̀➛ That doesn't mean that she means to, though. She's a gentlewoman at heart, but being surrounded by people like Kevin and Kalpas for most of her life has skewed her perception of an average human's limits. She's more of a soft dom if anything; you ending up with your legs shaking is already her being gentle.
: ̗̀➛ Remember how her hands are the coldest part of her body? Yeah, she's definitely taking advantage of that; cruelly tracing your body with her hands and making you tremble and whimper from the sheer temperature of her fingertips. As serious as she appears, she can be quite the tease when she puts her mind to it.
: ̗̀➛ Has a huge thing for dacryphilia. She was absolutely terrified the first time you started crying during sex thinking that she hurt you, but ever since you quickly explained the real reason and assured her that she did nothing wrong, she's made it a goal to make you cry from the pleasure. Did she really do a good job if you aren't a sobbing, shaking mess by the end of it?
: ̗̀➛ She doesn't have a specific preference for positions, but she hates it when she can't see your face. Aponia is the type of woman who thrives off of all of the small reactions she coaxes out of her partner. Blindfolds are definitely on the table, though— maybe it's her sadistic side, but she just loves seeing the fabric dampen with your tears...
: ̗̀➛ Aponia is really into body worship. It doesn't matter whether she's on the giving or receiving end of the deal, she loves the intimacy of the whole thing. She'll literally leave her marks and kisses on every inch of your body, and she expects you to at least try to do the same for her. This often leads to a lot of marking for both of you, though...
: ̗̀➛ For your own good, don't make her jealous. She's a patient woman; even more so with you, but if you upset her like that on purpose? Say goodbye to your ability to walk, speak, or think. Once you can speak again, make sure you give her tons of reassurance because that kind of stuff really upsets her. The idea of you with someone else gets her blood boiling.
112 notes · View notes
lassieposting · 1 year
Text
S&B Characters + Sleep Headcanons
Aleksander Kirigan doesn't get a lot of sleep. He claims it's because he's an incredibly busy man, and that's often true - long hours are basically part of his job description - but in truth it's just as likely to be any of a dozen other things keeping him from his bed; nightmares, occasional merzost headaches, intrusive thoughts, the ghosts of fuck-ups past, the relentless stress and worry of trying to keep Ravka's borders secure with dwindling funds and forces. Over the centuries he's learned to bury himself in his work to avoid his demons, and he's become one of those people who's perfectly functional on four hours of sleep, considers six a lie-in, and will sporadically go days at a time without sleeping when he's not doing well.
For most of his life, he's been immensely wary of falling asleep beside a lover - there are few worse ways to discover your bed partner was just out to kill you for bone jewelry than waking up mid-assassination attempt. If he's keen enough on them to not have them leave after a casual encounter - say, Zoya - he'll usually stay with them until they fall asleep, and then get up and go quietly do some work or read until morning. He's willing to adapt, though, for the right person - Nikolai and Alina can both settle him enough to stay with them all night. The trick, as it turns out, is playing on his touch starvation; on the rare occasion he finds someone he can actually trust, he likes to be held, and affectionate little gestures like playing with his hair or scritching his stubble or massaging his shoulders will melt him and flick his OFF button real fast. He's surprisingly cuddly, though he'll swear blind that he just gets cold easily and Alina and Nikolai both run hot.
Nikolai Lantsov is very tactile and affectionate in general, so when he's sharing someone's bed, he likes to cuddle. Like most soldiers - and kings who have survived more assassins than anyone should ever have to - he's a light sleeper, but he also drops off easily, the legacy of learning to get his head down wherever and whenever he can in an active warzone. He likes to sprawl out over or wrap himself around his lovers, and he does a lot of idly playing with hair or repetitive stroking up and down random stretches of skin, almost like he's self-soothing by comforting someone else.
He's been known to react to things happening around him while still asleep - pulling Alina in against his chest if he feels her shiver, or rolling over to throw an arm over Aleksander and mumble easy, Sasha if he's having a bad dream. He has nightmares of his own - he spent his military service on the front lines, not safe in an officer's tent like Vasily - and he tends to burrow into the closest warm body for comfort, burying his face in Alina's chest or Sasha's shoulder to ground himself. Aleksander will almost always wake up for this and react, reassuring and resettling Niko. Alina, not so much.
Alina Starkov sleeps like the dead. Once she is out, she is Out, and she'll sleep through pretty much anything short of a bomb being dropped on the palace. For quite a while this actually frightens her - she worries she won't wake up in time if she's attacked - but Niko is a light sleeper and Aleksander startles awake if a butterfly sneezes in Novyi Zem, so once they're all sharing a bed she's perfectly safe to conk out like a light. She's always had very vivid dreams, but she doesn't remember them for long after she wakes, so she keeps a sketchpad by the bed so she can draw any ideas or lingering impressions she wants to hang onto after she wakes - a concept for a machine Nikolai might want to build, a kefta design Aleksander would look devastatingly good in, old memories from the war she needs to exorcise, random nonsense that makes no sense outside of the context of her dream. She's usually the last to wake - Aleksander and Nikolai are both military and ridiculously busy besides, so they're often up with the Saints-forsaken sun, but Alina loves a lie-in, and would much rather stay up late than wake early.
Mal Oretsev is used to taking turns on watch with other soldiers, so he tends to sleep in short bursts of a few hours at a time. This poses a challenge once he takes over the Volkvolny - he has a lot of extra time to sleep now that he didn't have before. He spends a lot of it painstakingly working his way through the collection of books in Sturmhond's - his - stateroom. If he's to play the role, he should probably have the knowledge, and he'd rather be able to pull his weight without getting in the crew's way. He enjoys the engineering manuals and seafaring tomes, but mostly uses the ones on statecraft to make himself doze off when his brain doesn't want to shut down and be quiet.
Genya Safin is a paranoid sleeper. Her bed is positioned and angled so she can watch the thin strip of light visible beneath her closed door, waiting for the old king's loathsome shadow to block out the glow from the other side. Long after his death, she'll wake and go rigid at the sound of footsteps in the hall. It takes her a while to actually let David into her bed, but when she does, she realises she finds him comforting, actually - he's so logical and steady that he can talk her down from even the worst of her dreams. He doesn't mind getting up to prove to her that her door is locked, or reassuring her nightly that the old king really is dead.
David Kostyk is That Guy. He talks in his sleep - quadratic equations and theories of immutability and assorted Fabrikator shop-talk. He gets up and wanders around sometimes - usually to and from his desk, but occasionally down the hall. At least once he's gotten up, put on a housecoat, double-checked the lock on the door for Genya, comforted her after a nightmare, and gone back to bed himself, having never really woken up in the first place. This is a known habit at the Little Palace, and has caused plenty of entertainment and consternation - he's "caught" Nikolai sneaking out of the Black General's chambers back when he was still the spare tsarevich, he's wandered into the war room at four-thirty in the morning to explain a prototype to General Kirigan, he's been found ambling about the kitchens barefoot. Everyone who tends to stay up late - Kirigan included - has kindly escorted David back to his own rooms at least once. His saving grace is that he's really quite particular about his pyjamas - they're Durast-made to feel heavy, like a weighted blanket, and he finds it difficult to drop off without the grounding sensation - so at least he's never gone sleepwalking in his birthday suit. He wanders a little less once he starts spending his nights with Genya - if she's resting her head on his shoulder, or has an arm draped over his chest, he seems to be reluctant to move her.
Ivan Kaminsky has night terrors, the kind that wake him screaming and thrashing and completely disoriented, trapped in his own blankets - the legacy of the front lines at the Fjerdan border over a century ago. As a younger man, fresh off the front lines with nothing to his name but a medical discharge from active duty, he'd often find himself seeking out General Kirigan, stumbling into his tent or the Little Palace war room pale and shivering and still in his sleep clothes, all terribly undignified. Kirigan never seemed to mind, really. It was an understanding of sorts, between old soldiers familiar with the lingering spectre of war. He'd give Ivan a cursory once-over - "Evening, Kaminsky." - pour him a drink, and push a stack of papers across the table to give him something to do. He misses it, sometimes, the long nights spent working in companionable quiet. But now the General spends his nights with the sun summoner and the puppy king who's been making eyes at him since he was a skinny princeling, and Ivan spends his with his Fedyor, who has a truly remarkable amount of patience for being woken up at all hours by all the flailing and yelling. Ivan still hates talking about his night terrors - Fedyor is too young to have ever fought in the campaigns that got Ivan his discharge papers, and Ivan is reluctant to place extra horrors on his shoulders - but Fedya would listen, if Ivan needed him to, and in the meantime, he'll regulate Ivan's heart rate and breathing for him, deactivate the fear centre of his brain and flood him with signals telling his brain he's close to sleep, until he really is.
Inej Ghafa likes to sleep in Kaz's office. Back when he first bought out her indenture and took her from the Menagerie, that was where she felt safest. Only one door, locked firmly behind him whenever he ventured down to the rowdy Club below, where the raised voices of drunken men made her feel sick with terror. Two windows, left open at her fearful request - exits, if she needed them. A comfortable leather couch. The scratch-scratch-scratch of Kaz's quill on paper. Jesper used to try to reassure her - no harm will come to you at the Crow Club, you're Kaz's - and a small, wounded part of her took that to heart. If her connection to Kaz Brekker kept her safe, this man who showed more interest in her blades than her body, then she would rest where he could see her, where that protection would be a physical, tangible thing. And he let her. Never complained, though she knows now what he's like about his privacy. Just let her curl up on his Chesterfield. Draped a blanket over her when it was cold.
She's not that terrified girl anymore. She has her own lodgings, with her own possessions, though she still has a nighttime ritual for safety - one final sweep of the building, checking her escape routes, jamming a chair beneath her door handle. But she's quite capable of protecting herself now. All the same, when she is injured or sick or has been summoned back to the Menagerie on business, she'll still climb through his window, breathe out a sigh of relief at the inevitable, unsurprised, "Hello, Inej," and make herself comfortable on the couch for the night.
Wylan Hendriks sleeps curled into a ball. He's spent his share of time on the streets of Ketterdam and that's how he's learned to do it - hugging his meagre bagful of possessions, threadbare blanket wrapped around him and it. In Jesper's room at the Crow Club, he likes to burrow under the blankets; he'll rest his head on Jesper's belly to sleep rather than his shoulder, so even his hair is covered. It muffles the sound drifting up from the club floor or the street outside in the evenings - the shouting, the drunken arguments and bitter insults tossed around like knives, anything that might remind him of - anyway. He tends to turn in fairly early compared to the other Crows - while he loves the music of the city's bars and even enjoys the camaraderie of watching Jesper gamble, closing time in most of Ketterdam peaks at around midnight, and that's about when all the socialising starts to get a bit much for him. The Barrel stays open late, and Kaz doesn't kick out his patrons until the early hours of the morning, so most of the Crows have become night owls by necessity. Wylan uses the hours between making his exit and Jesper finally coming to bed to decompress - compose, play his flute, experiment with chemicals, look at the books Jesper got him, the ones with all the pictures to tell him the fairytales. After a few incidents where Jesper bursting in drunk and noisy left Wylan...a little out of sorts...he's learned to knock, the same pattern every time, before he lets himself in, and it's always easier to uncurl a little and relax with Jesper holding him.
195 notes · View notes
bots-and-cons · 10 months
Note
Hey, i saw your "Scarlet Witch!Reader" and it gives me an idea.
Imagine she heard the discussions from the Autobots (She's on Team Prime after all) about her chaos magic powers could lead to destructions and that she will turn mad with power (which is completely the opposite, she's stable enough as she can be and kind and generous) and they should "keep an eye of her" in case she'll go crazy and what how do we stop her (aka in need to keep on lock her up) which affects her more and made her feel more outcast from them as much she's outcast from society which depressed her more. One day, in a terrible battle between them and the Decepticons, she "sacrifice" to save them (either she did sacrifice herself but miraculously survived but find herself alone after battle because everyone believe she died with it or secretly gets away from them in complete isolation from everyone, both humans and Autobots, living in a cottage in a forest or something, helping saving her world in her own way)
How Team Prime will react of her "death" and their guilts ? Because Some bot *cough*Ratchet*cough* was immediately rather skeptical and unsure about her (but grew soft sport for her soon) which discusses his concerns to the Bots before her "death" (Can't honestly blame him because of Megatron but NOT EVERYONE end like him Ratchet 😒)
(P.S, you can add IF Team Prime's reactions IF they EVER heard that she's alive and learning WHY she left somewhere FAR away from them. would they want to reach her again or....?)
So the HCs you mentioned don't really play into this, but if anyone is interested they can be found here. I did HCs since those are always easier and I wanted to write this. You can also interpret this as a prequel to this post. This is a bit of a ramble tbh and I didn’t do all the bots, just some
•You know your powers can scare people sometimes, they sometimes even scare you, but you thought the autobots were different
•They never truly hated you or anything, but they were skeptical of your powers and how much control you had over them
•When you accidentally hit Bulk with a rock that you were aiming at a vehicon, it all started to go downhill
•Sometimes you would do things with more strength than you needed to, and broke something, but a lot of the bots interpreted that as you doing it on purpose
•You thought they wouldn’t shun you or want to imprison you, but apparently you had been wrong
•They were just like everyone else, thinking your powers would drive you to madness or make you evil somehow
•You tried to ignore the whispers at the base, the conversations that stopped when you entered the room, the way Ratchet kept an eye on you every time you were around the kids and the way Arcee kept glaring at you
•These things didn’t help any, because they just made you angry and when you got irritated, you had less control
•It ended up being a vicious cycle, that you couldn’t seem to get out of
•It was getting to be too much, you wanted to get away from the autobots, away from anyone who would treat you with prejudice because of your powers
•You’re a kind and caring person, but somehow your strength seemed to be the deciding factor in how others treated you, instead of your personality
•You decided you wanted to leave, but you didn’t know how you’d be able to
•The autobots kept a pretty keen eye on you all the time, so you would have to do something drastic
•You didn’t know what that was going to be until you got the chance to do it
•You were fighting with the autobots against the decepticons, and you saw your chance
•You could fake your death and get away, you wouldn’t be chained down again, by anyone
•When you disappeared from the battlefield, the autobots assumed you had been taken or that they just couldn’t find your body
•Of course there was no body to find, but they didn’t know that
•When Optimus brought the news back to the base that you were gone, Ratchet sort of scoffed
•The type of “I told you so” scoff, that he used pretty often
•There was a lot of conversation at the base afterwards about if you were really dead and even if you weren’t maybe it was better you were gone
•Arcee was probably the most outspoken about her feelings about it being good that you weren’t at the base anymore
•She got a few surprised looks, but no one disagreed with her
•Bee and Smokescreen sort of fell victim to their seniors’ bias but neither of them hated you or anything
•Optimus was left with a lot of guilt after your “death”, even though he wanted to protect others from you, he wanted to protect you too
•He knew you weren’t a bad person, but he had seen what too much power can do to someone
•Maybe they were all too quick to judge, but they couldn’t do anything about it now, you were gone
•Arcee was always primarily worried about the trouble trio around you, because she had seen you literally rip vehicons apart when you needed to
•She was worried that if one of the kids angered you, you might hurt them
•Ratchet kept his “I told you so” attitude for a while after your “death”, but he eventually came to feel very guilty about how he had treated you during your last months with the team
95 notes · View notes
ddarker-dreams · 2 years
Note
Can you write Yan Phantom troupe + reader hwr Sleeping Arrangements
I liked your post so much💓
ohhh sure thing, i’m glad you enjoyed the genshin variation!! i think it’d make for an easier read if i refer to HWR reader as her ‘canon’ name (aka what i call her in my head), so i’ll start doing that henceforth for posts like this . do i start an anastasia x reader tag... omg... what a blessed development .
Anastasia (aka HWR Reader)
Due to the physical demands of her work, Anastasia highly prioritizes keeping her body in the best condition. This causes her to go to bed and wake up early. While she has no problem with you sleeping in, she'd prefer you don't stay up too late, since she believes it’d be detrimental to your health. She never knows when she might need to go days without a wink of sleep so she tries to be prepared. You're welcome to scuttle about your shared bedroom if you feel especially fidgety, but the moment your hand grazes the doorknob, she's awake and gently asking if everything's alright. Should you say you want water or whatever, she'll go and get it for you. Anastasia tends to keep to her side of the bed when you do finally lay down — she wants to give you space so that your sleep isn't disturbed. In rare moments of indulgence, she'll let her hand ghost over yours, smiling softly to herself upon reaffirming that you're still here with her.
Chrollo
You'll start weighing the merits of becoming an insomniac when faced with the trials sleeping next to Chrollo entails. It's like a switch inside him flips from annoying to extra annoying come nightfall. The bastard knows your poor amygdala is extra vulnerable to emotional exploits when tired, so right when you tuck yourself in and get cozy, he’ll start asking about your greatest regrets in life or whatever. He won’t leave you alone until you give him a satisfactory answer too. He could make do on next to no sleep just fine, but ever since he’s brought you into his life, he’s felt the urge to lay down at night whenever you do. There’s this intimacy to the simple act that he finds addicting. This paired with the fact your emotional walls are lowered at night makes him quite the happy camper. If you’ve been extra difficult lately, he won’t let you even get close to the bed until you give him a ‘goodnight kiss’. He finds the bastardization of such an innocent gesture delightful. In essence, nighttime when you’re involved becomes his favorite, whereas you view it with existential dread. 
Feitan
It’s a bit of a coin toss if you’ll see Feitan any night. When the moon is high in the sky, he likes to get to ‘work’, aka inflicting unspeakable horrors on whatever poor soul he needs something out of. Those nights where the screams extend for hours until their vocal cords are too scratchy to cry out anymore are the worst. If you’ve really been behaving lately, he’ll consider giving you noise-canceling headphones. So long as you ask sweetly. His sleep schedule is pretty erratic due to growing up in an environment where it was necessary to sleep in shifts for survival’s sake, something that’s carried over to his adulthood. Most of the time, you can expect to go to bed alone. While you’re snoozing soundly, he might creep into your room. He’ll run his bloodied knuckles over your cheek and muse to himself how vulnerable a position you’re in before a depraved man like himself. Watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest is an excellent way to come down from the high he receives from inflicting pain on others. For some, it’s bird watching or listening to the rain, for him, it’s staring unblinkingly at his beloved who wants nothing to do with him. Different strokes for different folks.
Machi
Machi isn’t thrilled with the thought of falling asleep around you. In her mind, the likelihood of you pulling something stupid increases tenfold. Despite her harsh outer demeanor, she doesn’t actually derive pleasure from punishing you. Her goal here is to make you like her (though she’d rather die than admit this), so any scenarios counterproductive to that are actively avoided. She’ll tell you point-blank not to try anything if she senses even the slightest shift in your attitude. As for cuddling, she secretly longs for it, but will never act on the desire. You’ll have to be the one to initiate. And even then, her body goes so tense that you worry you’ve done something wrong. She won’t verbally confirm or deny should you voice this question aloud. However, the fact she doesn’t shove you away is all the evidence you need. Her heart, which doesn’t even skip a beat when faced with imminent death, races madly whenever you do this. For your own safety, it’s recommended you don’t point the detail out.
Pakunoda
Pakunoda makes going to sleep an event. She runs you both a bath infused with essential oils, gives you a facial, and shares other elements of her specialized skincare routine. The cocoa butter lotion she insists you put on your legs after your nightly bath smells like the most heavenly concoction. You wear matching satin nightclothes to a bed that she purchased with you specifically in mind. Pakunoda enjoys it when you lay your head against her chest, but when you both start to doze off, she’ll gently move you into a more comfortable position so you don’t get a kink in your neck. It’d be in your best interest to never protest against her insistence on following this routine — there’s no faster route to earning her admonition. She would’ve done anything for this luxury that she’s sharing with you growing up, and if she feels you’re being ungrateful, she won’t hesitate to humble you. Expressing your gratitude is the best way to avoid this, even if said gratitude isn’t genuine. She’ll smile and pat you on the head for the wise choice.
Phinks
The decibel level of this man’s snores... god rest your soul. He’s handsy and all up in your personal space almost every single night. Phinks doesn’t even bother trying to be sly about it too, he just pulls you right up against him the second you lay down. His favorite spot to put his hands is in between your thighs. He will find a way to make this happen no matter the position. If you thought you might luck out by having his grip on you relax when he falls asleep, you’d be dead wrong. A straightjacket would allow for more wiggle room than him. You can choose to sleep whenever, but getting up for the day is another beast entirely. He just adores the sensation of skin-to-skin contact so much that he doesn’t want to give you up until he has to. It might be a good idea to keep some snacks within arm’s reach for this reason. 
Shalnark
Shalnark thinks you’re the cutest thing ever when you’re asleep! That’s why he has hundreds of pictures and videos of you dozing off, some dated way before you were even kidnapped. It’s an instant boost to his mood whenever he scrolls through this particular gallery. He insists that you must wear fluffy pajamas if you want to go to bed because he finds it adorable. He tends to stay up way later than you, either using his phone on max brightness or typing away on his laptop. You have zero idea how he always has so much energy when you guess he gets anywhere from three to four hours of sleep a night. It’s a mystery. And yes, if he finds a particularly funny image or video, he will wake you up for the sole purpose of sharing it with you. He has drawn on your face at night a few times too for fun. Normally cringey stuff like ‘if lost, return to Shalnark’ or a couple of hearts. He’s beyond annoying. 
695 notes · View notes
miscellaneoussmp · 7 months
Text
I should be writing something fluffy, but this idea won't leave me alone. Companion fic to [this one]! Here's the story of a set of twins meeting The Grim Reaper (cw/tw: blood/death/violence throughout, general Cellbit fuckery):
It was a game, not a tragedy. This was a game to be played and won and survived. It's a game and how they play works. They're alive, hearts still beating in their chests. It works. They're surviving. Soft cries of not wanting to play this game anymore get hidden until it's dark. It's just a game. Chasing after another person like hungry pack animals. They're starving. A person means food for both of them, brother and sister.
He couldn't tell you what exactly happened once the chase was over. Blood filled his mouth and stained his hands. Fed. He'll survive another day. She couldn't tell you what happened once the chase was over. The bread stolen off the body was stale. It was edible. She'll survive another day. The chase was over. They survived. How they play this game works. It works. It always has. This is when they notice a tall figure in between the trees. There's a white knuckle grip on a knife and a shakey hold on a sword. Would this be the end of the game? No, the figure wasn't there for the siblings. The figure was here for a soul. He explains to his sister that they aren't in danger for now. The young duo watched in amazement as the soul was ripped from a body.
The reaper starts asking questions about the siblings. It was a curious situation. The question about their names was only answered with a shake of his head. They were never given names. They were referred to, of course, with words that weren't truly names. Bother and Sister, Blood and Fear, Feral Cat and Wild Dog, just to name a few. The reaper asked how old they were. This time, she speaks up; Quinze. Fifteen, he explains to the reaper. The reaper seemed upset? with the answer. Why's that? Nobody ever seemed upset before, even when it was being screamed at them. Then, the reaper asked a question that seemed pretty obvious. Are they siblings? Of course they are. Cut from the same cloth, sharing the same blood, stolen from the same home, and playing the same game. Their nods were almost completely in sync.
They turned the questions on the hooded figure. His name is Bad, but people call him all sorts of things, kind of like the siblings. Bad, Grim Reaper, a saint, a demon, just to say a few. Bad liked to dodge questions, he noticed as he repeated his sister's questions. Bad dodged questions about where he's from and how old he is. He offered bread. The loaf seemed fresh, not stale, edible, like real food. He thinks it's just to shut them up. He doesn't take it. The metallic taste on his lips is more than enough. She does take it. Staring at Bad through her ash blonde hair, as she does so. The bread seems fine. She's too hungry to care either way.
Bad is still there by the time neither sibling could fight the urge to sleep anymore. Both rest against a tree, with weapons resting but ready. When both awake, once again, the sun is high in the sky again. This has been the longest they've ever slept in one sitting.
Cellbit couldn't believe it when he saw Bad on the island. He joked that he finally had a name to share and that he had been doing well, with a proper job as an investigator. He thanked Bad for his kindness all those years ago. He ignores the way Bad looks at him with confusion and a bit of pity. The young teen that still lives in him hates that look, he hates that look since he knows he's missing something.
Bagi couldn't believe that despite being stuck here too, Bad was being kind to her. She told him about her pacifism, and they argued lightly and playfully about it. She chose to ignore the way Bad looked at her with a look of recognition and a bit of pity. The young teen that is hidden within her lives for that look, she lives for that look because it means she's remembered.
40 notes · View notes
sweettoothvn · 9 months
Text
Sweet Tooth Character Questions (part 1)
On the discord server we have a lot of people ask for scenarios on how the Sweet Tooth cast would react if (insert thing) So i've decided to share some of those questions with you all! Of course if you're interested in joining us, the link is on the pinned message, or here
Questions and Answers under the cut!
"Sweet tooth cast bad habits?"
Andre has a lead foot, drives too fast and too recklessly. He also rarely sleeps and mixes coffee with energy drinks.
Casey chews his lips sometimes or even his hair when he gets nervous. Recently Kieran bought him one of those chew stim toys though.
Chrys yanks her collar when she gets nervous, stretched out a few shirts from that.
David bounces his leg when he's particularly anxious. He also puts the worst things he can find in his coffee, anything to keep him awake, he cant sleep, shouldn't sleep, he wont allow it. He also smokes and has a drinking problem,,,
Eddie, like his father (Brook), chews his nails or picks at scabs. His posture could use some work too. Phelo (another one of his dads) claims he swears too much but he thinks "Phelo is a fuckin pussy for not swearin so much" so who knows.
Kieran smokes typically when he's stressed... which is quite often. In the past he used to tug on his hair a lot, now a days you'll see him run his hand through his hair. This usually shows he's going through some bad shit.
Noble is amongst our smokers, only smoking more products than the other three. Anything that could get him high enough to not feel it going in him, no matter how. Kleptomania is another habit he needs to kick. Someday.
Zach is the last of our smokers, probably smokes more than Kieran, but not as much as Noble. Most of his other bad habits include fidgeting, lying, and saying 'yes' to everything
"How do the Sweet Tooth cast go about winning over their crush?"
Andre is big on cooking so obviously he's going to try and win them over by showing off how much he can feed them. Based on how much they can feed him then that means he can support them financially so therefore he should be the best choice right? Also food. Its mostly just cause he likes cooking for people.
Casey is going to gift them all sorts of sweets and take them to his favorite places. If they dont have a Sweet Tooth then he makes sure to take them to restaurants that they might enjoy. He wants to have all sorts of experiences with his crush, good or bad. He just wants to be near them.
Chrys is a big foodie herself, similar to Andre, she'll try to impress them with food. Of course, she's not as shy as Andre so she will flirt as much as she can within her crush's comfort level of course. Whatever her crush's interests are she's researched just so she can understand what they're talking about and how to respond accordingly.
David being quite tsundere tends to insult his crush a lot... but in order to impress them he tries to show off how much power he has- not realizing that maybe showing his softer sides like how he cares for his bunnies might be the ticket.
Eddie might try to take them on nature walks or show off his knowledge of the forest or The Intrepid. Maybe he tries to impress them with his survival skills so they feel safe with him.
Kieran is going to show off not only his talents but his body. Typically dressing in particular ways that his crush might find attractive along with being closer to them. He'll flirt and be quite forward with what he wants, thinking that if he appeals to their lust rather than romantic interests that that is the ticket. Hes learning.
Noble bakes as much as he can for his crush, spoiling them whenever he can. He takes photos of them, showing them how beautiful they are and making sure that they know it. If his crush is more on the wild side he would he more willing to do risky feats... and in general...? Well lets say his competition has been thinning out.
Zach typically tries to show off with his art, drawing their favorite characters or animals. He might show off his knowledge with astrology and astronomy, comparing his crush to some of his favorite ancient stories. Constellations were made to help with navigation, and whenever his crush is around he cant help but think of them as the north star or his own personal constellation, knowing he never feels lost with them.
"What does jealousy look like in the cast?"
Andre isnt one to get jealous very easily. He trusts his partner wholeheartedly... but he doesnt trust other people... some people he's okay with them being around, for example he wont get weirded out of Chrys is joke flirting or teasing his partner as he knows that she tends to do that with most people. Now Kieran...? Ohh... oh he better stay away. Especially Noble too.
Casey is a bit insecure about himself. He's shocked that his partner even wanted to go out with him! Him! Of all people! There were better choices out there but they picked him... hems so flattered and touched but... what if they move on...? He simply watches it happen. If his partner pulls away from the person flirting with them, he sighs relieved. But if they flirt back..? Even if its in a way that is meant to trick the other person, well... he cant help but feel a bit upset. Casey is also the type to not stand up for himself but god be damned he will fight for his partner though. If someone touches them, well Kieran sure taught him where and how to punch.
Chrys will get handsy and lean on her partner, try to fluster them and remind them who they belong to and that she belongs to them. This is only of course if she sees someone persistently going after her partner, or if someone she doesnt trust has started talking to her partner. Your lap is now her throne. Good luck~!
David is a gossip king. He'll spread rumors about the person in question who dared to talk to his partner like that... He's hesitant with his partner speaking to Eddie, but he does trust them with Andre, Casey, Chrys, and surprisingly Zach. Anyone else is a definite no. He's probably maybe just a biiit... overprotective and possessive over his partner. Call him crazy all you want but you are his.
Eddie will cause arguments with the person who decided to talk to you like that, how dare they?! Right in front of him too! They dont even to deserve to look at you like that! If it escalates any further well... Eddie is coming home with a couple or several bruises. He's proud regardless, asking for your praise cause he fought for you and not realizing he fought OVER you.
Kieran might try to intimidate or 'seduce' whoever is talking to his partner, trying to take them away from him. He'll make them feel as little as he can and crush their heart with his words. If that doesnt work, well, a little bit of boxing never hurt anyone right?
Noble will be as 'gentle' as he can be. Playing up a sickeningly sweet smile as he takes your hand, pulling you away from whoever you were talking to. If they dont seem to be too much of a threat then he might allow you to talk to them. But if they appear like someone who could ruin what he worked so hard to get? He's going to make sure they dont see you anymore, or another day to be more precise...
Zach was always sure that the people in his life would leave him. Use him up and move on. People are mosquitos, parasites. They always have been. But you... you built him up... you helped him grow... he cant watch as someone tries to take you away... it taking everything in him to be improper and handle the situation immaturely. He talks to you, voicing his insecurity and apologizing for his feelings. But if whoever is talking to you persists, he might not be able to hold onto the little patience he has left and throw a few punches. He doesn't seem like the fighting type but he hits hard
35 notes · View notes
coentinim · 3 months
Note
I think Peony Lestrange in Gryffindor, same year as Harry. In an AU she would exist, she'd hex fake Mad-Eye Moody if she's present during Draco's attack.
Also, maybe if she's in seventh year, she'd be attending with Neville, be constantly pressured into a torture group, and she'd be sorely tempted to join, because girl would have a lot of fustration and having a victim for the taking, plus a genetic predisposition to sadism. Not torturing people would to her be a constant challenge, nearly madening temptation. Afterwards, she'd feel like a monster. Could build an interesting ship with Neville: both pureblood raised by abusive relatives, both having low self-esteem (Neville because of constant riddicule, Peony because she's so tempted to torture people she doesn't know when she'll give in). Also, our girl would think being ashamed of ostracism is beneath her, so should she join our Trio on the dragon egg buisness, she'd be the least affected by it. "Blushing over school points is beneath me." sort of attitude, and in fact, take Hermione's role as the attention-seeker in class.
TW; suicide mention and gore
Also, I don't see her surviving the Wizarding War II, and I imagine that her cause of death would be suicide, so she wouldn't be forced to betray her friends nor her family, or be a passive bystander with little to no agency. I'd imagine her chosen method to go would be hanging, partially because it carries the symbolic of a shameful death (her name being Peony the flower of shame, symbolism), and it would be Harry who would first discover her body.
"He walked to the forbidden forest, meeting his end. He heard crows, instinctive curiosity made him turn his head. Her body hanged amongst the trees, her dress allowing her signs of shame and scars on proud display, blisters from years of beatings blending seamlessly with early signs of decay. The choughs and the crows had already eaten her once beautiful, flamboyant eyes, that would no more shine in cheek, joy nor courage. Light turquoise green was already marbling her white skin. Her curtains of raven hair were shaved for the noose to better go. Bellow her stood a letter amongst her tresses. He took it in his hand...It simply said: "To not become a traitor. I give my flesh to the crows and my hair to my grandmother." She rather died than raise a wand against those she considered friend or family, Death Eater, Order of the Phoenix, she didn't care. Harry was tempted to flee Voldemort, but carried on, taking a fistful of hair with him."
But I don't think she'll necessarely want to die, just that she sees death the only way out of this impass, preserving her moral integrety and her agency. Another senario is if Voldemort would try to make her torture someone in front of his death eaters, she would maybe give in once or twice, but in the third time...
"Towards the terrified, tied-up victim below her...She would never do something this filthy, this immoral again. But...could she resist temptation much longer. He was all tied up, vulnerable for the taking. So, she screamed: "Sectumsempra !" The curse didn't hit him.
Bloodflowers blossomed were her belly once was, liver threatening to pop out of her ripped dress and flesh, soiling the floor a bright crimson. "You will not...Use me again." were her final words, to the Carrows who stared at the scene rather supidly.
Neville felt her falling forward, there bodies locked in a final embrasse, her slender fingers clenched onto his robes until a few moments later, they went limp, her once famboyant eyes now staring emptily into the void. Warm guts spilled onto him, and her arms fully collapsed, making there lips join in a last parody of a kiss. He could only watch in horror. She died...Died in an act of protest. Rage...Rage ! She didn't have to die if the Carrows didn't use her as a torture instrument."
In any case, her death would become an inspiration, I think for many Death Eaters. Also, I do like the litterary device of the would-be executioner or torturer killing themselves for their victims.
That's so dark what and definitely too dark for the canon verse... but I love it!! Her becoming a shameful martyr... I don't think she'd kill herself in school, but if she was forced to partake in some deviant activities in the Malfoy manor, she might kill herself then. I also think she would literally despise her mother, but also pity her devastating mental and physical state. She would be disgusted and scared. Idk about her reaction to her dad since we know next to nothing about him, but if he really did fancy the dead, she wouldn't take kindly to him either.
You had a totally different concept for her than me. Maybe because I was in my hp phase when I was a LOT younger, so I wanted a happy ending for her, but I also had this idea that she would be both disgusted and tempted by violence. Like, the rush that came with torture or killing for her would be overwhelming, but her upbringing would make it so that it doesn't sit right with her.
I also like the idea that she was raised by immoral people, but in hogwarts she met muggle borns etc who changed her views completely.
Also, her suicide methods show her flair for the dramatics lol
13 notes · View notes
bluegekk0 · 6 months
Note
🤒
fpk doesn't take being sick well. of course, no one does, but he's especially sensitive to it. during his rule, he healed any illness or injury with soul magic, so he forgot how miserable being sick can make you and how to mentally deal with it
(more below in case it's long)
post-hibernation, he is unable to simply make the illness go away with magic, so he has to go through all the symptoms. and he's not used to any of them. the same applies to injuries, though considering he usually gets those while hunting, the adrenaline helps with the initial pain, and over time he learned to expect it. at least somewhat
but being sick? it always hits you unexpectedly, and for him it's especially stressful. he's terrified of dying, he knows he can't wiggle his way out of dangerous conditions anymore, so even a simple illness is enough to put him on edge. and so he tends to overreact to even the least non-dangerous symptoms, he'll whine in pain and toss and turn in bed, though he rarely complains about it out loud
whenever he's sick, he feels the most vulnerable and alone, so he greatly appreciates the presence of others. he'll ask them to stay by his bed so he knows they're still there and he doesn't have to go through it by himself. grimm always agrees to keep him company, and since he's immune to most common illnesses (thanks to his body temperature that can kill most viruses and bacteria), he doesn't have to worry about it being contagious. he'll cuddle with him, bring him food and warm drinks, and talk to him until he falls asleep. holly doesn't need to be asked twice, they don't have to worry about common illnesses either so they'll always sit by his bed and watch over him to make sure he's doing okay. hornet tends to only bring him tea and whatever else he needs, but she rarely actually stays in his room. she'll say it's because she doesn't want to catch whatever he's sick with, but in reality she hates seeing him in a weak state like this. she's afraid he might die, and her instinct tells her to run away from such possibility
thankfully fpk's body is much better at dealing with illnesses and injuries than it used to before hibernation. with injuries specifically, his increased body fat acts as an additional barrier between the outside world and all the sensitive parts inside. it's the main reason why he survived the attempt on his life (during the grimmkin incident i mentioned), the stab wound wasn't deep enough to do serious harm to his organs, in part thanks to his bigger mass. it still put him out of commission for about a month, though, and you can imagine how miserable of a month it was with how badly he reacts to pain. he was able to recover, although he had to gain back some weight to return to his usual chubby self (as a side note, i feel like i should give him a scar from that incident since the wound was big enough to leave one, but i haven't decided where exactly it would go yet haha)
as to what kind of illnesses he could catch in the first place, that definitely falls more under worldbuilding, i think you could come up with some unique ideas here. but i reckon stuff like common cold, the flu, digestive issues and infections would be present and relatively common among all the species in hallownest, wyrms included
17 notes · View notes
xxsmilingdeerxx · 14 days
Note
The strange "reptilian" sinner makes her way through the hotel quietly, it's daytime and she doesn't want to talk to Charlie, nor has she introduced herself properly yet. She simply wishes to check on Alastor, having heard through the grape vine that he wasn't feeling well.
She goes quiet and still for a moment, turning invisible upon hearing footsteps, seeing Vaggie come down the stairs and walk right past her...she'll be honest- she's grateful that this is her sinner power, "invisibility". Or, more along the lines of an ability she had when living that carried over upon her death and arrival in Hell.
Once Vaggie passes by, she continues her way up the stairs, higher and higher until she finally reaches the top floor, and begins searching around for- ah ha. There it is. She's found a door that is different from the rest, an "On Air" neon sign outside, it's not currently lit, which she assumes means Alastor isn't busy. Well, that and the lack of screaming. She goes to open the door but hesitates. She'd never properly gotten to introduce herself to Alastor, they had simply spoken once when she saw a post regarding his music tastes, in which she was delighted to learn they shared something in common. She's not one of those people who's..."interested" in Alastor, Heavens no. She was in the same boat he was in, what was the term? "AroAce", if she remembers correctly. Older time, new terms, eh. However, she did find herself feeling lonely...not a lot of sinners from her time, and Alastor is technically from a time later than her, much later. She has adapted to survive and stay out of the spotlight of Exterminators and other violent sinners, though. And she has a decent amount of interests that she believes are aligned with Alastor's, for one, hunting. Sadistic sense of humor, likes being in control, willing to kill anyone who pisses her off, etcetera. Music was just one thing, personality? Fairly similar.
In the end, she takes a deep breath and turns the doorknob, stepping in quietly, a toe claw tapping the floor as she entered, her hooded head looking around for signs of Alastor...he's not by the fireplace and he's not at his desk...should she call for him? Calling out his name would probably find him quicker but if he's in a bad mood, she doesn't wish to intrude-
And that's around the time she hears the door shut behind her...oh, please don't let him be in a bad mood, she just wants to be pleasant...
📻As he made the door shut behind her he stared down at her, his ears pointing downward he was still sick so barely could do much in his state. His body was trying to get used to all of his powers again. Considering the deal previously being broken and all his powers restored.
“Tsk tsk. Showing up invited. How rude of you.”
He stated blatantly his smile widening his eyes narrowing down at her
“You must really have a death wish if you just come waltzing into my radio tower like this..”🎙️
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
Text
What if the Ride the Cyclone choir was in a Danganronpa killing game?
This is my guess on what they'd be like, their talent, their deaths or if they survive, etc. Name: Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg
Ultimate: Senator
What they would do: Ocean would definitely be the one to take charge, like the Ishimaru of the game, but her speeches would be similar to the ones she had in the play.
If she were to be a victim, she'd probably be a victim to someone who's tired of her self-centred views. Or Noel.
If she were to kill someone, the motive would have to be really tempting. Or she might crack under the pressure of the killing game.
If she were to be a traitor or a MM, it would probably be because she wanted to use a twisted way to prove that what the world needs is people like her, and only people who work hard and are ambitious should be able to live.
If she were to be a survivor, she'd definitely see how her worldview was wrong in the end, and get the development she got in the play.
Misc. Things:
I see her participating a lot in the trials.
I can't really imagine her dying early...
Name: Constance Blackwood
Ultimate: Baker
What they would do: Constance would cheer everyone up with treats while Ocean does her speeches. She'd try and get along with everyone. She definitely wouldn't want any deaths.
If she were to be killed, I think someone would've taken advantage of her kindness...
If she were to be a killer, she'd be fed up with everyone acting as if being nice was all that there was to her. She'd snap just like she did in the musical. Or it might've been a motive that put her loved ones in danger.
If she were to be a traitor or a MM, it'd kinda be like Sakura, where she was practically manipulated into working for the MM or running the killing game. That, or she wants to prove through the killing game that she's more than just the "Nicest girl in town".
If she were to live, I think she'd have gotten through with her positivity and acceptance of being a nice girl, while proving to her peers that she's more than her title.
Misc. Things:
She gives me survivor vibes, but no one can say for sure.
She'll probably let her hair down in the end just like in the musical.
Name: Noel Gruber
Ultimate: Poet
What they would do: Definitely faints dramatically whenever someone dies. He might try and sacrifice himself for his friends. Passes out at the first execution.
If he were to be a victim, he'd probably have set up a death for himself. Either like a Nagito-style case or he worked with his killer so he could die in a tragic way instead of just getting a knife to the gut.
If he were to kill, I think he'd probably have tried to set up a heartbreaking murder. He would want his case to be like one of those tragedies he loves so much.
Or, the motive could've been tempting. I'm not sure what motive would tempt Noel, though. Maybe one that puts his loved ones in danger? He might also be channeling his inner Monique, and stab someone 10 times in the back.
If he were to be a traitor or a MM, he'd want this to be like a story. Like a French New Wave cinema-style story. People sobbing as their loved ones bleed out. Noel himself getting killed or being driven to kill, or seeing his loved ones die, it would be exhilarating for traitor/MM Noel. Or his loved ones are in danger, so he gets roped into the killing game. I don't think Noel would actually have the heart to do this for his own twisted enjoyment, but he might...
If he were to survive the killing game, he might write poems to honour the dead students. He might also realize maybe a tragedy wasn't what he wanted, after all.
Misc. Things:
Either he or Constance would slap Ocean over one of her rants.
Name: Mischa Bachinski
Ultimate: Rapper
What they would do: He'd also cry at the dead bodies, especially if his friends were to die. He'd try and kill the host of the killing game at the beginning. He'd be trying to text Talia through his MonoPad.
If he were to be a victim, he'd get killed from being reckless. Either provoking someone to the point of them snapping, or getting killed in self defence. Another possibility is him choosing to sacrifice himself. If he were to kill, the motive would have to endanger his loved ones, or have something to do with Talia. Maybe the motive shows that Talia was hurt, or in danger. Maybe his friends in the killing game would get hurt. Or his mom back in Ukraine would only be saved if he chose to kill, the list goes on...
If he were to be a traitor/MM, he'd more likely to be have been coerced into it. He might be trying to save his mom, who he can't physically be with. He might be trying to protect his friends from worse things. Talia might be in danger. Or he might want to get revenge on the world. He's tired of constantly getting isolated. He's tired of his adoptive parents keeping him in the basement and showing him no love.
If he were to be a survivor, he'd dedicate his raps to his dead classmates. He'd mourn every single one of them, and at the end, he's especially respectful to them.
Misc. Things:
He might try and stop an execution like Fuyuhiko.
Definitely breaks down at least once.
Name: Richard "Ricky" Potts
Ultimate: Writer
What they would do: He'd be using an AAC device to talk, or using sign for the people that know it. He's good at comforting people. He tries to participate as much as he can in the trials. Since he can't walk, people tend to think of him as an easy target. But he might have people with him at all times, and Ricky is canonly wise. Since he can't talk without his device or signing, he would pay more attention to things like if there's something off about a body, or a case, or something.
If he were to be killed, it'd be someone taking advantage of him, and outsmarting him. It's also possible that he would sacrifice himself for the group. He concedes in the musical and he says he knew he didn't belong in this world. He probably wouldn't try and defend himself if someone were to attempt to take his life unless there was something important he needed to do.
If he were to kill someone, he'd need an accomplice if the death is gonna be from external injuries. Or he would poison someone, or set up a trap. His motive would be protecting loved ones.
If he were to be the traitor/MM, he'd be tired of people constantly speaking over him and him getting ignored all the time. He'd want people to see him as more than just the "disabled kid". More than just the kid who can't talk nor walk. He'd see them all as the "Count Dogulus" in the story. It would probably be because he wants to finally be treated normally, and in a killing game where everyone is helpless from the outside world at first, he'd be taken seriously.
If he were to live, he'd add his friends to his Zolar universe. He'd be surprised he made it out in the first place, and decide to live the rest of his life to the fullest.
Misc. Things:
Good at calming others down after a death.
Might not even bother locking his door, but who knows...
Name: Jane Doe (Penny Lamb at the end)
Ultimate: ??? (Penny Lamb as the Ultimate Drug Trafficker)
What they would do: As like in the musical, Jane would start out as a complete mystery, having no idea who she is and not being able to remember her talent. This time, the students all just assume it's because she got knocked out a little too hard at the entrance, and names her Jane Doe for the time being. She won't have a doll for a head, but she'll still have the appearance of when she did in the musical. Probably at the end, either the host, the mastermind, or the traitor would reveal that she is Penny Lamb. They'd show some pictures of her, but everyone would be confused on why they look so different. Maybe some Hajime-type stuff happened where they got brain surgery to fuse their personalities together, or maybe they'll get the surgery after either surviving the game or dying in the game. Whether Jane was Penny to begin with, or if she became her after, is up for debate, just like the musical. If she were to be a victim, she might have her head cut off...but in all seriousness, someone might find her suspicious and assume she's the one behind the game. They might trick her, as they believe she's gullible due to the memory loss.
If she were to be a blackened, it might be out of desperation for an identity, or out of despair over her amnesia. She's unlikely to kill, but if she does, she goes all out.
If she were to be a traitor or MM, it would probably be that for some reason, her identity got fused with Penny's, or she became Penny. Maybe she lost her memories long before the killing game, maybe she got into a roller coaster accident, like in the musical, survived, but got amnesia. She only survived because she was fused with Penny, and in order to regain the memories of her, and not just Penny, she maybe...puts herself and some classmates in a life-or-death situation to see if she can trigger the memories?
If she were to survive, she'd accept her identity she had all along or her new identity as Penny Lamb. Or she might finally get some answers.
Misc. Things:
She doesn't show a lot of emotion, even through deaths. She's a lot like her canon self here.
52 notes · View notes
coffeebanana · 1 year
Text
Chapter Summary:
Marinette is not a morning person. Also, wine and assembling IKEA furniture do not mix. Thankfully she has a wonderful roommate to assist with both these issues! And if he renders her hopelessly flustered in the process, well...she'll probably survive.
First scene under the cut!
Marinette was not ready to be awake. Apparently her internal clock had yet to register that the semester was over, because she’d woken up several times throughout the night, panicked about deadlines that no longer existed. All she wanted now was to doze off again. To sleep until her body and the ridiculously comfortable mattress melded together as one.
Unfortunately, the room had the audacity to have an east-facing window, and she’d been too lazy yesterday to put up the blackout curtains she’d purchased. Plus, she could hear Adrien moving around in the kitchen, and knowing he was so close did funny things to her insides. She yawned and allowed herself one last stretch before reluctantly pushing herself up.
For a minute or so after, she just sat on the edge of her bed, hoping she’d spontaneously develop the ability to teleport into the kitchen. (Damn Monarch. Couldn’t he at least have left her the Horse Miraculous?)
Eventually, she resigned herself to the fact that she’d actually have touseher legs. She stood slowly, pulling the fuzzy blanket she’d taken to bed over her head like a hood. She hadn’t taken so much as a step when Tikki flew up to her.
“Don’t forget your bracelet, Marinette.” Oops.
“Thanks, Tikki,” she mumbled. Or she tried to—judging by Tikki’s giggle she wasn’t sure her words had been coherent.
The wave of relief that washed over her as she slipped on the bracelet roused her a little—forgetting that would have been a disaster. She’d taken it off midway through the night, unused to sleeping in jewellery aside from her earrings. Clearly she’d have to adjust though—she couldn’t risk forgetting it in her room.
In retrospect, the amount of times she’d left her house still wearing pyjamas really should have tipped her off to the dangers of leaving her sleep-deprived brain in charge of such decisions.
With another yawn, Marinette stumbled out of her room and into the kitchen. Adrien immediately turned around from his spot browsing the fridge to give her a bright smile—he must have heard her grumbling her way down the hall.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. Too cheerfully—Marinette really ought to have considered the repercussions of moving in with a morning person.
She answered him wordlessly, with the most petulant face she could muster, before taking her usual seat at the kitchen island and slumping down on the counter.
Adrien laughed, which…okay. That was a nice, warm, magical sound. The kind that probably cured sick kids instantly and made birds sing. Maybe she could put up with Morning Adrien™️ for the sake of that laugh.
Maybe.
“Want some coffee, Sleepy Bug?”
“Mmm.”
Another laugh, one that was over too soon. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She heard him get a few things out of the fridge and set them on the counter, then his footsteps took him to the corner of the kitchen. Where the espresso machine lives, Marinette thought dreamily. Before she knew it a cup was set down beside her, its pleasant aroma finally urging her to push herself up and meet Adrien’s smiling eyes.
“One espresso for my favourite hero.” His smile was far warmer than the cup he slid into her hands. “Figured I should caffeinate you the quickest way possible, but I can also make you a cappuccino if you want.”
“You’re perfect,” she sighed. “Marry me.”
For a second—about the moment it took her to realize she’d made a terrible mistake—Adrien just stared at her. Then a wild grin stretched across his face.
“As lovely as that sounds,” he said, “I don’t think you’re in any state to be making those sorts of decisions.”
Marinette squeaked in response and buried her face in her arms again. As lovely as that sounds?!
At this rate, she wouldn’t survive long enough to enjoy that cappuccino.
33 notes · View notes
authorautumnbanks · 6 months
Text
How To Tame A Sorcerer (45)
Series Master list
Tumblr media
Satoru crosses his arms over his chest. His face is void of any emotion as he watches Kagome shift nervously on their bed. Her eyes dart from his blindfold to the floor, to the wall behind him, and back to his face. What she did was reckless and, to be honest, he is stooped as to why she is not more shaken up from the kidnapping.
Is he the crazy one? She should want to stay inside their heavily warded home, not rush off to who knows where. Though he has an inkling that she snuck out to go talk to Yakeru. Why she cares so much about that fox is beyond him. As far as he is concerned, Yakeru has yet to do anything to foster trust. Satoru uncrosses his arms and sits next to her on the bed. He grabs a hold of her hand, giving her a slight squeeze. Her hand is soft and warm in his.
"I've been going about this whole thing the wrong way," he says, head tilted up towards the ceiling. His nose wrinkles at the overpowering smell of the perfumes that she sprayed herself with. "I have a lot of enemies, Gome-chan, and I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you." He would tear down all the buildings in Japan if he had to.
"Satoru—"
"Can you just shoot me a text before you leave out for now on?"
"You aren't mad at me?"
"Oh, I'm pissed," he says cheerily. "I'm pissed at myself that I've made you feel as though you have to sneak out of your own home." He angles his body towards her. "And confused. You got kidnapped. Why aren't you more wary?"
Kagome gives him a half shrug. "I'm used to it." The lightbulb shatters on the nightstand. Kagome jumps and instinctively leans into him further before pulling back as the realization creeps in.
"Sorry." He doesn't really mean it. No one should be used to getting kidnapped. Kagome glances at the shattered glass. "Where did you run off to? You didn't have any bags with you." He needs to hear her say it.
"I needed to talk to Yakeru alone." Kagome wets her lips. He chews the inside of his cheeks, knowing that if he lashes out that she'll only ground her heels down further. "He needed to know what happened to Yumi, and it had to be from me."
"And he reacted to this news with open arms?" His voice drips with disbelief. Satoru internally flinches. He's supposed to be calm and collected.
"He's going after Naraku."
"That's great news!" He gives her a Cheshire grin. If Yakeru wants to take Naraku out, then who is he to stand in the way of demon spats?
"He's planning on starting a war. You aren't a little concerned?"
"My only concerns are protecting this family and my students. If Yakeru wants to go after Naraku, then let him. That saves me the time, so I can focus more on those curses that are working together." He uncurls his hand from hers and draws her in closer. Best-case scenario, if Yakeru can get rid of Naraku, then maybe those special grades will disband or slip up down the road. He refuses to believe that they came together on their own. No—either they were recruited by Naraku, another demon, or even a curse user. Either way, he will not stop Yakeru from taking out an obvious threat.
"He's not stupid," Satoru says. "If he were, then he wouldn't have survived as long as he has. You trusted him not to lash out at your over Yumi, then trust him in this." His phone buzzes in his pocket. No doubt Ijichi freaking out because he left without a word. "Hey, Gome-chan…"
"Hm?"
"That perfume smells awful." He pulls back and scratches at his nose. "Whatever brand that is, it has got to go."
"Oh, I did this to cover up my scent in case there were any other demons nearby with strong noses." She stands and lifts her arms up, stretching this way and that, careful to avoid the fallen glass. "Sorry for worrying you." She worries her bottom lip, and he wonders if she is doing it on purpose. She has to know what that does to him.
"If you need to go anywhere else, Megumi is staying." He hopes that she just takes a bath to wash off that overpowering perfume and then takes a nap. His phone buzzes again. "I gotta get back to work. Those curses won't exorcise themselves." He stands and brushes his thumb along her lips and then leans down to kiss her temple. He takes a step back and digs his phone out from his pocket to shoot Ijichi a quick text that he'll be there in five seconds flat. His fingers hover over the many alerts from Ijichi and Yaga, but his brain freezes on the text from his undercover servant at the estate.
Owl: Help. Ryu is experimenting on the staff. Can't leave.
He stares at the screen, his brain refusing to process the impact of the message.
No.
He wouldn't.
The fuck? Ryu may be a bastard that has no genuine respect for women, but even he has a moral compass. You might have to squint to find it, but it is there. He cannot be that upset over the dissolving of their participation in the bridal market?
"Is everything okay with work?" Kagome asks.
No, but he will not add any unnecessary stress on her shoulders. The only trouble Kagome should have is worrying about how much rest to get as far as he is concerned. "You'll get wrinkles as bad as Ijichi if you pinch your brows together like that," he replies, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Everything is fine," he says, not sure if he is trying to convince her or himself.
"You sure?"
"Yep," he quips, walking out of the room to retrieve a broom and dustpan. He passes by Megumi on the way back up the stairs.
"Is Kagome-san, okay?" Megumi asks, scratching Buyo Jr. behind the ear. His eyes linger on the nekomata for a second. Why didn't she take him with her? He gives himself a mental shake. The reasoning does not matter now, and besides, he needs to get to the estate like five minutes ago.
"Yep, not a hair out of place," he says, taking long strides back to the bedroom. Kagome is still in the same spot with worry etched on her face. He sweeps up the shards and tosses them into the bathroom trashcan. He starts the bath for her, distinctly aware of her eyes piercing his back. He should leave now before he slips up and before anything else happens.
"Are you sure that you are okay?" She leans against the counter, her arms crossed underneath her breasts.
"I'll see you later, okay," he says instead, not wanting to worry her. Whatever is going on, he can handle it. He waves before teleporting away, not giving Kagome a chance to ask him again.
Satoru stifles a yawn as he regards the barrier encompassing the estate. He should tell Ijichi to pick up a latte on his to pick him up. Between all the missions he has today, Kagome giving him and Megumi a scare, and now Ryu losing his mind—He direly needs a sugar hit. Satoru raises a hand to the barrier, noting how it is not keeping him out, nor does it seem to be that complex. So, people are free to enter, but they cannot leave. To the untrained eye, they wouldn't see anything amiss, but his eyes recognize that what he is seeing is nothing more than an illusion. He wonders what he will find lurking behind the barrier.
"Visiting the estate today?"
Satoru narrows his eyes behind the blindfold and pulls his hand back. "Yakeru wasn't expecting to see you here. Kagome said you were going after Naraku." No way the fox traveled all this way to talk to him—especially since he just teleported to the estate.
"That is correct." Yakeru stares at the building, his eyes flat. His posture, though, is lax and at first glance, one would assume that Yakeru is not affected by the death, but there is a tenseness to his jaw and focus is purely predatorial.
"You think he's hiding out at my estate?" He should step through and end whatever Ryu is attempting to do. "That would be pretty bold of him."
"My nose does not lie," Yakeru says, flatly. "The problem with spiders is that they are always trying to spin long, intricate webs. But the larger the web, the weaker it becomes as they forget about the smaller details, such as covering the scent."
A minuscule amount of guilt bubbles up in his gut. He should have been more on top of everything that was going on at the estate. Perhaps leaving the day-to-day operations to his uncle was not the best decision. "What's the problem with foxes? Aren't you tricksters?"
"For fun or to punish those who slight us. We rarely go out of our way to cause permanent damage." Yakeru dips his head. "I apologize for Yumi and apologies in advance for any destruction I may cause your estate." Yakeru passes through the barrier without a glance back.
"He can change his appearance," he says suddenly as the pieces fall into place. But how the hell did Naraku one up Ryu? Yeah, his uncle isn't as strong as him, but Ryu isn't a pushover unless these demons are stronger than he thought. He pulls out his phone and instructs Ijichi over text to bring him double espresso with ten pumps of creamer, ten sugars, and to meet him at the estate in an hour. He steps through the barrier, bracing himself for the worst.
Blue flames light up the yard. The burning smell of flesh is not one that he ever wants to get used to. He clucks his tongue as he walks forward. The yard is not on fire, he realizes, the flames are contained to the bodies of some oversized spiders. Were they there hiding when he and Kagome visited? He pushes open the front door and bites down on his tongue at the sight of mutilated servants.
Great. He really won't be making it home in time for dinner now.
3 notes · View notes
camellia-thea · 11 months
Note
2 and 5 for Dove and 6 and 17 for Taralin for the OC ask game :-)
ooh thank you love. some fun questions here. under a cut but it's not any longer than usual jhdgfjh.
warnings: death. violence. coercion? nothing descriptive tho.
dove dove dove dove------
2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?
dove stands 5'4 on a good night, and looks sickly. overtired, anemic, and bruised at her joints. she holds herself well enough, and has a polite air, but she doesn't look like much. a strong wind could probably knock her over-- except...
she's fast. weirdly fast for a kindred without celerity. quick reflexes, and a remarkable ability to disappear into the shadows. obfuscate and oblivion both help, in that department, but she was fine before she got those too.
5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?
dove has little holding her to human morals. she's only been kindred for a little over a year, but that's long enough. especially paired with how long she was ghouled. fifteen years of breaking and entering by night, working as pa by day, hacking, sabotaging, and general business espionage has left dove with a 'get shit done' attitude, and a want to look after herself.
but... now that she's free -- truly free, no blood bond, absent sire, and no connection to either sect -- she doesn't have... wants. she's safe, that was her big one. safe space, safe haven, safe. she's safe. she has financial security. she's fine, doesn't need money, and knows enough to get more if she needs it. she has her music, has her privacy, all she really wants is perhaps a mawla. someone willing to make trades.
she's willing to dip her toes back into the scene. maybe she'll make some... friends.
----------------------------------------
as typical for taralin, have some almost narrative things <3 one is... remarkably succinct. the other. less so.
6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?
taralin is oh-so-good at following orders. really, an ideal find for the morrigan. they lost their squeamishness quickly, in the realm of war. linger here, stab someone there, be a pretty face and a wicked tongue, it was all part of the job description, and really, you signed up for this, you should expect me to make use of your skill set, my vassal. except the blood on their hands stains and lingers. they ache and shudder with it, bile rising in their throat if they linger too long on the memories.
but that ends. in the realm of war, a dead body is a set piece more than a problem. that sort of... sensitivity, is scorned.
the first time they call an eldritch blast, they kill someone. they don't know his name. just know they were to... remove him.
there's a voice in their ear as they do, well done.
they don't want to, but they're in too deep already.
survival comes first now.
it's remarkable how quickly they throw away the morals instilled by their mothers. (they are bitter about it -- a better person would at least try. gods, they didn't even try. just gave up. turned to war and blood.)
but-- they sigh, no point dwelling. they just have to get through this.
they have to. whatever it takes.
17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?
taralin has seen-- so many horrors in their time. but one phrase lingers in their mind, rings so clearly years later.
"welcome to my service, vassal."
words set in stone. words spinning their fate.
3 notes · View notes
brooklynislandgirl · 6 months
Note
[ Devil Driver / Broken SHIELD ]
Days and weeks have passed since Phil found Beth at the AIM facility and took her from it. He's fought tooth and nail to stay hidden while nurturing her back to health. To avoid eyes until the moment he gets a lead on where the team might be… member by member. And there are those few times where the lead is solid enough that Beth's eyes brighten with a spark. But that spark is less of the Life over which she claims domain, and more of the Vengeance that he now embodies.
In a very different time, they had been agents of SHIELD. Now? They are avengers. Not the kind that earns a Stark paycheck or a magic hammer; they are the kind that could not save the world, and now must bring those responsible for its ruin to account.
The desert bunker is dark and relatively small, barely suited to host more than a dozen people seeking temporary shelter. But to Phil and Beth, it may as well be their underground palace. MREs are their sustenance. Beth has cautiously suggested using her talents to inspire edible growth, but Phil isn't certain he wants to tarry here for long. Staying mobile, he's convinced, is how they stay alive. They've only lingered here for three days because the daytime has been so blazing hot, he fears she'll succumb to dehydration before Lola makes it across the wasteland… and his means of fueling Lola to conserve her gasoline at night may as well make them visible from space.
She suggests they stay one more night, at least. And Phil grants that request because she is exhausted, and she deflects that not-quite-accusatory remark by pointing out he is too, and that he should be the one more concerned with slumber, since she can survive -- and has done so -- on less than an hour's sleep nightly for weeks on end. But he insists she at least lie down… and he assures her he will be right next to her, just as he was those first two weeks after freeing her.
When she reluctantly nestles onto her cot, he kneels down beside her and takes her hand gently in his own.
"You should know something… that even though my goal has always been to find everyone, you were the one I wanted to find first. Not just because of the things you can do, but because… you're the one who gives me hope, when all of mine has run out. And I really need that right now."
He looks into her doe eyes in the silence of the ensuing moment. And then he leans down and forward, and presses his lips to the center of her forehead.
Silver Moon Sparkling || Accepting
When Beth languished within her cell, her mind fraying under the strain of torment ~ceaseless experiments on what she could recover from, what she could live without, all while her natural regeneration and her magick stolen from her by the odd always cold metal wrapped around her throat~ she’d tried to hold onto a sliver of faith. That he would not abandon her. That he would pull the team back out of whatever bolt hole they’d found themselves scurrying with the time she’d bought them. She had held hope that even if she’s the least of them, that he would still care. Each day and each new agony, that hope dwindled. But then he came. Though at first she thought him a demon wearing a flayed Phil-skin as fear gripped her through the fog of sedation.She had no ability to shrink away, nor to stop him from carrying her away. If pressed she wouldn’t be able to answer how he got the collar off. She can’t say if she slept or ate or did anything but ache with a bone deep agony for days after he did. The only thing that gives her respite as her body reknits itself and her teeth grow back into place, slicing her gums to ribbons with new sharpness are the tales he has to tell. Each one is a tragedy. They are full of horror and dismay. And they are empty of the family he’s built for himself. Somehow they soldier on; because what else can they do? Beth has always joked about being an endurance predator to those who know her best ~the family she once had~ but the miles they put behind them are gruelling. She’s grateful for the bunker. The heat during the day perks her up some but the lack of any kind of moisture limits its effectiveness. She eats at his direction even if everything tastes like ash. Bit by bit it all does its work and eventually restores her to a modicum of her former self. Sleep is the hardest commodity to put her finger on. There is now never any time to settle in before they move on again starting the entire process anew. She understands why and doesn’t utter a peep of disagreement. She has no right to. Neither can she bring herself to question what sacrifice he’s made, what pact might somewhere be writ in his own blood to have enshrined this… Well, she isn’t sure what to call it. It isn’t exactly a spirit like the kind she knows. She fears using her mana in such a way to draw it out because she doesn’t know how it will react to such direct confrontation and she can’t bear the idea of losing or harming Phil to satisfy what some would call a focused curiosity. But the question lingers as does its symptoms; she occasionally flinches when he comes up on her far too quietly, when he brushes her arm when she isn’t expecting it. When she looks into his eyes and sees Pele’s burning heart before he blinks and is once more the witty and urbane man knows.Tonight though…the exhaustion is too real. Weighs her bones down as if they are encased in steel. But so is he. Even if she isn��t at her best, she can still sense the weariness that sucks at his every step, and the way his hands rub at his stubble-shaded jaw. Her counter-arguments at any other time would never hold water. He’d scoff and pull rank and remind her that her insomnia alone could make her unfit for duty. She doesn’t see the losing end of it all until she’s seated on the edge of her cot and he’s making promises.
His hands are warm when he enfolds one of her own. His voice is soft when he shares a lovely fairytale secret with her and while she gazes up into his face ~even as he kneels, and her head is on the pillow, there is a discrepancy of height between them~ trying to hold back a flood of emotions neither of them can spare at the moment, she nods.
What surprises her the most then is the tenderness of his lips on her brow. The simplest thing but filled with an incomprehensible amount of comfort. Cloaked in nostalgia of what Beth used to dream having a father was like, or remembering the way Andy would make everything all right. Except Phil isn’t her father. He isn’t her brother. He isn’t even the uncle she calls him out of respect and affection, and the feelings buried deep inside of her attest to that.
So does the way she refuses to let go of his hand.
“You have alla dat, an’ more,” she whispers, afraid to disturb a single molecule inside the bunker. “We’ll find dem, an’ we’ll bring ‘em back t’ where dey should be. Wi’d us. I can see it inna stars, you know.” It’s not true. She does not have a single iota of mana tied with stars, with time. She does have the ability to grant a boon from fate. And she gathers it all up now, every ounce of power that flows in her blood, pooling it into the coincidental stroke of luck he needs.
Beth shifts upwards, resting her weight on her elbow and returns the kiss. Petal soft lips and a skittish sort of nerve, but her mouth brushes his, willing into him that luck. A sense of peace. Savouring, however improper, the feel of his mouth, too.
1 note · View note