#the specific injury or at least where it is (such as when the man in the bar has to cut into Kahn's leg and arm to see his bones)

[7-wonders]

Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says. 

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters. 

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff. 

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod. 

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end. 

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving.  “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.” 

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps. 

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle. 

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months. 

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?” 

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him. 

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.” 

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings

[darabeatha]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃?  

knuckles.      it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own... and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.  

#;a.shwatthama #;dash games #;headcanons #ohmygod- #this one did hit quite on the spot this time fr #'you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin' #it made me think of how m.ahabharata a.sh got cursed by k.rishna to roam in the forests with blood and puss coming from his injuries #and cry for death but being unable to meet it as he got basically cursed to roam across the land as an immortal #which in return leaves open the matter that technically; a.sh is still roaming around the land #/and to that; there are even tellings of people who encountered a.shwatthama ! #for at least 3000 years if i recall correctly? and to add to that; he would neither receive hospitality nor any accomodation and would be #in total isolation #and u know the gem he has on his forehead? since it was removed from his forehead; the wound left would not heal #so imagine someone kissing his bruised skin and injuries #someone reminding him that he is not made of only violence; #/now im not sure if f.go' ash includes this point in his life since he still has the gem on his forehead so it might be- #the period of time where he found out about his father's death and when he was consumed by rage and wanted vengeance #that specific moment in the story might be the a.sh we currently have #BUT STILL! #it would hit so dang hard man- #bc some s.ervants still hold the memories of what happens later on in their stories despite being summoned under a particular moment in #their lives #so a.sh staring at his scars and bruises and knowing how they will end up looking #(im thinking how i'll write him in that aspect now but on the meanwhile) #he is still fueled by rage; he still gathers scars and wounds and bruises #but again; someone being there to remind him 'you are not only made of violence' #there is so much more to him! he was a great son and so wonderfully skilled that if it wasnt for how things ended up #he could have changed the direction of the k.urukshetra war; yes he was THAT powerful #his partner kisses his knuckles and he's like 'huh?? whatcha doing there-' AND THEN JUSTPROCEED TO BURST IN LAUGHTER #he is now KISSING THEIR HANDS BACK!! he would find it to be such a silly thing for them to do but it would absolutely warm his heart

[worm-wood-words]

Too tired to write but also can't stop The Scenes™ from playing out in my mind.

#bits about Arvel's healing magic and also the man in the bar healing Kahn's broken bones #i mean it's not perfect and it's painful for both the man and Kahn for different reasons but it does work in the end #also just sort of trying to flesh out the healing magic in my head. for most people who have it (mostly loethan) it's close #range or on touch. depending on the person it might hurt or drain the caster too and they might have to be able to see #the specific injury or at least where it is (such as when the man in the bar has to cut into Kahn's leg and arm to see his bones) #it almost never works on nerve damage. never on organs except maybe internal bleeding or injuries so severe the organs are #exposed. (basically just trying to say it won't heal organ failure). so it's pretty much best for broken bones and cuts. works better the #more recent the injury was. technically has the ability to regrow limbs but that's most likely never shown. (torn between whether #or not veren gets his arm regrown or a prosthetic. probably prosthetic since he lost it years ago) #doesn't work on illnesses or poisoning or stuff like that. that's still the domain of alchemists. also since on the areas it shuts #does. I'm not retyping that. on the areas it does heal its just rapid cell regrowth which most of the time is fine. but then there's #Arvel. who can do it both on touch and at range and uses the whole rapid cell growth thing as a method of torture. add the whole #light minions thing and the fact that his abilities include a rapid healing factor on himself (and that unlike a lot of people #his abilities work rapidly on others and he can easily get over any drain it has on him) #and yeah it's understandable why Len loses the first fight and why a lot of people don't stand up to him much. even his wife who doesn't #have powers at all ends up progressively more afraid of him. like the only way to possibly wound him in a meaningful way is to get the #drop on him and find some way to inflict severe damage on a vital spot and keep whatever you used to do that inside of him long enough #for him to eventually not be able to heal around it anymore. i don't know just thinking about how he's such a twisting of typically 'good #guy' powers. like his main things are light and healing he should be the hero or like high up supporting cast but nope he's just #trying to subjugate everyone and rule the whole damn continent because of a might makes right ethos and the fact that he does #certainly have might on his side #maggot original

[aidenwaites]

People truly don't get just how labor-intensive of a field filmmaking is, whether it's writing/pre-production or on-set actors and crew or post-production

#listen man i know ive barely scratched the surface of even sports broadcasting #but my schedule is Not Unlike the kind of schedules film crews face with MUCH more labor intensive jobs #except where my schedule is unpredictable and subject to change on short notice and my shifts #Do Not Come with proper breaks #at least i *usually* only work a max of 12 hours #film crews easily see 14-16 hour days and the studios refuse to accept #paying more fines to the unions for not supplying the minimum amount of hours needed between shifts (this was something they rejected in #the wga negotiations) #and they HAVE to have those fines put on them because there is like. a real legitimate problem of lack of sleep leading to #injuries (and sometimes fatal ones) both on and off film sets. do you know its not unusual for people on sets to be reminded not to drive #if they feel like theyre going to pass out. a couple of years ago when iatse was in negotiations people were sharing INSANE stories #along those lines #and those days arent worth it!! at all!! we HAVE to take more time to make movies. we have to stand behind the unions. come on man #anyway brought to you by i wasnt gonna reblog that giant post where someone sent a stupid ask to neil gaiman but i am mad about it #and i know that post was specifically aboht writing but MAN people really forget the number of crew who work on movies #and how exhausting those jobs are and how much technical skill and varied understanding of skills that arent even your own #that you have to have to work in entertainment ! #anyway

[reiderwriter]

can i request a fic of pining spencer reid and bau!reader who are brushing up on some hand to hand combat and reader is really invested on winning finally pins spencer down and reader is straddling spencer and they are both like 😳😳

the rest of the bau and other fbi agents are on the side making varies bets about who wins maybe too? (eg that miss congeniality scene)

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg thank you so much for this one specifically - I loved this idea. I had to make Spencer competitive too, because 😊 I wanted to.

Word count: 1.8k words

Warnings: none! Just fluff, however if anyone wanted to send a follow up request wanting a part two where there is some smut I'd be 100% okay with that... Just if you wanted to.

Part two

When Morgan told you that, after an unfortunate shoulder injury you received on the job, you’d have to take another training course to prove that you were up to being back in the field, you almost resigned on the spot. Passing the first time hadn’t been the easiest feat for you, and while you were confident in your skills in the field, you knew that you were, to put it kindly, athletically challenged. 

“There’s no way to get out of it? No exceptions they can make to allow me into the field?” You asked, desperate to avoid Morgan putting you through the ringer. 

“I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, but they’re worried about your ability to perform under pressure, so I gotta push you today, okay? You’re not alone, at least.” 

“I’m not?” you gave the man a questioning look as you followed him to the changing rooms reluctantly. 

“Nah, they pulled up Reid and Garcia as well, you’ll all be doing the work together today.” 

“What that’s ridiculous! Penelope isn’t even in the field and Reid has never passed one of these things.” You throw your bag down on a bench, and look ahead of you into the equipment room, and sure enough, there they are, looks of equal dissatisfaction spread across their faces. 

“You’re preaching to the choir here, sweet cheeks. You’re in good hands though, I’m not going to push you too hard today.” Somehow you didn’t believe that. 

–X–

An hour later you were flat on your back, panting harder than you had in months, dripping with sweat and feeling an ache in your bones that you hadn’t felt ever. Next to you on the ground, you could hear your fellow torturee’s moaning in pain, presumably doing their best to stay conscious. 

“You know, chocolate thunder, I love you, I really do, but you make it very, very hard sometimes,” Penelope squeaked out as the other man chuckled from above you. “God I’m not even asthmatic but I think I need an inhaler.” 

You chuckled at that and pushed yourself up to a seated position. 

“I think I am asthmatic.” Reid said form his position on your other side. You stole a glance at him quickly before blushing and looking away. You didn’t have a crush on him, or at least that was what you were telling yourself, but you did have a keen appreciation for how he looked in his button down shirts and FBI vests. His hair was shorter now than when you first met, and the longer parts stuck to his face with sweat. You were lucky that the strength had been all but zapped from your body because given the chance, you’d be pushing his hair out of his face for him and get lost in his eyes. 

“Come on, guys. You finished cardio, you finished weights, all you got left is some simple self defense drills. Think you can handle that?” Morgan laughed from above you. 

“No! I haven’t been able to handle any of this, what makes you think I can do more?” Reid moaned out on the floor next to you. You stood up, reluctantly, holding out a hand out to the man and helping to pull him to his feet. 

You underestimate the help he needed to get up, though and he has to catch you in his arms as soon as he’s up, as you stumble into him, legs too weak. You blush as the two of you stay uncomfortably close for a few seconds, only pulling apart when Morgan lets out a sharp cough. You jump back from each other then, and pray to god that no one else in the room saw the puppy dog eyes you were unintentionally shooting up at him. 

“Okay, so there’s three of you, so I’ll join in for these sparring drills. Any volunteers?” 

“To tangle my limbs with yours all hot and sweaty on the floor? Sweetie, I thought you’d never ask.” You hadn’t seen Penelope move so fast all day, though you knew she was only half joking. 

“Okay, so Y/L/N, Reid, you head over to that mat over there. You’re going to start a hand-to-hand combat simulation, whoever pins the other down first wins. We’ll do best of three, okay?” 

Reluctantly, you made your way to the mat he indicated to, knowing that you weren’t going to have as much fun as Penelope any time soon. 

“You’re going to start in a common self-defense scenario. Reid, you’re going to be the assailant, you’re going to come up on Y/L/N from behind, okay?” You nodded at Morgan’s words and turned yourself away from Reid, feeling his presence at your back already. 

“Is this really necessary?” He questioned from behind you, and you could practically feel Morgan’s answering look on your back. Finally, he rested a light hand on your shoulder, and your session started. 

You grabbed the hand on your shoulder and twisted it, and yourself, behind his back, gaining the upper hand quickly. 

“Y/N, come on. Take it easy, I’m exhausted. Just let me pin you and we can call it a day.” Reid said from in front of you and your ears burnt at his suggestion. 

“Wait, why would I let you pin me? I have the upper hand right now.” He huffed out a breath and twisted his body underneath your arm, catching you off-guard as he swept your legs from underneath you. Before you could fall all the way down, though, he grabbed you around your waist and held you in what you assumed looked like a ballroom dancing dip. 

“You were saying?” You desperately wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off of his lips. “Actually, I have a few years more experience in the field than you, and I was probably beaten up a lot more in high school, so I wouldn’t be too upset about losing to me, okay?” 

You returned his smile sarcastically for a second, before lifting and swinging the heel of your foot into his knee, forcing him to hit the mat as you scrambled out of his grip and repositioned yourself behind him, pulling him arm behind his back a second time in an attempt to subdue him. 

“If you have so much experience getting your ass kicked, Spence, why don’t you just let me do it?” You enjoyed feeding his words back to him as he moaned out a little. 

“Because something tells me you’d enjoy it a little too much.” He somehow slips from your grip again, swiping your legs out from underneath you and climbing over you. The two of you struggle for a few seconds on the floor, but he has your legs pinned with his own, and he forces your hands above your head. Your heads are even with one another, and you’re both breathing heavily now. 

You decide to take another approach to get out of his hold this time. Rolling your hips up into his slightly, you let your eyes rake over his body above you. 

“You sure you’re not enjoying this just as much, Reid?” you shoot him an innocent enough smile, but you can see the flush staining his skin, and he loosens his hold on you just enough to allow you to wrap your legs around his waist and use your bosy weight as leverage to flip your positions. 

Now he’s on his back below you and you sit up in triumph, straddling his lap. His arms fight to get yours pinned to your side but you give back just as much as he is, and you can feel the crowd forming around you. He decides to fight dirty as well. 

“Thought you’d enjoy being under me more than you’d like being on top. I was being a gentleman,” he huffs out and manages to flip you over once more, pushing up and wrapping his legs up over your knees and forcing you onto your back. Your legs are now spread wide for him, his crotch pushed against yours, his arms gripping yours and pushing them firmly into the mat. You struggle a few more times but you know this is it. He’s got you. 

“What? Not even going to let my hands go to let me tap out?” you huff out, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. He pins both of your hands with one of his and gently tucks the hair behind your ear for you as you burn up under his touch, suddenly at a loss for words. 

“What, and let you try to tackle me again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you go.” 

“Y/L/N, Reid, if you’re finished over there, you can grab a drink and start over. I did say this was going to be best of three.” Both of you suddenly snap your eyes up to Morgan, who has one raised eyebrow pointed at you. You realise that you’ve also drawn the attention of the other gym-goers and scramble away from each other to the sound of chuckles and wolf whistles. 

“Shit,” you run a hand through your hair and get in position to go again, this time swapping with Reid so you take the position of the unsub. 

From a distance, you don’t realise that Penelope and Morgan have completely given up on their own drills. 

“Twenty bucks says Reid gives in and kisses her first,” she whispers to her companion. 

“The kid? No way, he’s being too cocky for that. I reckon Y/N will do it to try and distract him first.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Garcia says, and they settle back into watching the two of you, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re both enjoying sparring a little bit more than you normally would be. 

“When do you think I should tell them that they never needed to do this training session in the first place?” 

“Derek Morgan, if you are admitting right now that you made me walk through hell and back just so you could force these two beautiful idiots whom I love to recognise their feelings for each other then I am going to murder you and then bring you back to life so I can kiss you for being so smart.” 

“So I shouldn’t tell them?” 

“Take it to the grave, baby.” 

They turned their attention back to you, suddenly way more invested in how this was going to turn out.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc

[cy-cyborg]

Writing disability: The Super-Crip Trope, and how to avoid falling into it's harmful elements

The "Magical disabled person" or as it's often called in disability circles, the "Super-Crip" is the name of a trope in which a disabled character has some kind of magic or special abilities, which is used to mitigate or erase the impact of their disability. While not a mandatory part of the trope, many super-crip characters are also stronger than their peers, specifically because of their disability's impact on their powers. So why is this trope so unpopular among many disabled people? There's a few reasons. The main one is because more often than not, Super-crips who are written by non-disabled people are often treated as an easy way out of actually having to deal with a character's disability, and a shortcut out of having to do the research into how a disabled character would deal with certain situations. When these writers encounter something they think their disabled character can't do, instead of actually talking to people with the same disability as their character and doing research, they just write that its not a problem because "magic powers go!"

In some cases, but not all, their powers all but erase their disability completely, at least from the perspective of it's relevance to the story. While, to my knowledge, this was never in the comics or movies, A good example of this is a "fan-theory" I've seen among non-disabled X-men fans who claim professor X could use his telepathy to walk, functionally bypassing his spinal injury (Or his leg injury, if we're going off some of the comics' timelines). This would functionally erase his disability, making it an example of both the super-crip trope and the miracle-cure trope.

ID: An image of Professor X from X-men, a white bald man wearing a suit, sitting in a silver wheelchair, and another unknown man in a suit standing beside him, framed by a circular doorway, both their faces are partially obscured by shadow. /end ID]

Another reason this trope is disliked is because writer's often have good intentions when using this trope, but they actually end up undermining the points they were trying to make. Often, super-crips are portrayed as badasses in an attempt to show that "you can still be a hero/useful to the plot and be disabled", but the way they portray it usually implies that disabled people, as they exist in real life, aren't useful unless they have something that compensates for their disability or have impossible powers.

So should super-crips be avoided entirely? Some folks in the community think so, but personally, I don't agree. Despite all of what I've said so far, I think there are ways to write characters who technically fit the definition of a super-crip, without it being harmful. There's an argument to be made that "super-crip" specifically refers to harmful version of the trope, so not everyone will consider characters who aren't part of it, but I do, and I think it's important to discuss both the harm this trope can bring, and how this trope can be used in non-harmful ways. Humans (and creatures with human-level intelligence) are adaptable creatures, and in a world where magic exists and especially in worlds where its common, disabled people will find ways to use it to help themselves. but help is the key word there. So let's talk about some ways you can write super-crips, without it crossing the line into becoming harmful. The following are some things for you to consider about your character's disability, how their magic/powers interacts with it, how they interact with the world (and vice versa) and more:

Are your character's powers an aid or a cure?

The first, and one of the most important things to consider, is if your character's powers function like an aid or piece of assistive tech, or a cure? If you boil it down, is the magic helping them or "fixing" them? This can be a cure in the literal sense, as in giving an amputee the ability to shape-shift to get their limb back, or a functional cure, meaning the power essentially by-passes the disability, like the above mentioned professor-X fan-theory. It's not literally curing him, but it might as well be. In a world where this magic or super-powers exist, it's perfectly natural that a character might use the magic to lessen the impact of their disability, but it shouldn't erase it entirely. Give the magic a trade off, make it imperfect. You character can cummon a magic prosthetic, but there's a time limit on how long it lasts for, or their magic needs to recharge it. A wheelchair using mage might be able to engrave magic runes on their chair that allow them to pass over rough terrain, but only to a certain extent. It might allow them to go up-stairs, but it can only be used so many times per day (and make sure you show the times where they need to get up the stairs, but have run out of uses!) Things like that.

Is the power directly tied to their disability?

Is the power you're giving the character directly tied to their disability? There's 2 ways you could read this, and both should be considered. 1. The power is something you, as the author, gave to them specifically because it would help mitigate their disability (e.g. giving a character without arms telepathy so they can still pick things up/hold things because you couldn't figure out how they would be a badass swordsman without it) or 2. Does this character, in universe, have their power specifically because of their disability? e.g. Did our arm amputee develop telepathy through sheer-force of will because they really wanted to be a swordsman, and their determination manifested as telepathy/A god gave them the powers because they felt bad for them/a wizard taught them how to do it because they were inspired by the person's perseverance? If the answer to the first one was yes, perhaps reconsider and do more research. If the answer to the second one is yes, proceed with a lot of caution. Generally, if the powers originate from someone feeling sorry for your character, being inspired by them or anything to do with their determination and perseverance, I'd recommend changing that. However, if the powers came from your character having to adapt something to to their disability, that is really a case-by-case basis thing. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. your success with it will depend on the character, the setting and the specifics of how.

Is this power common, or is this character the only person in the cast/only person we see with this ability?

Is the power you're giving your disabled character rare, or even unique? It's fine to give your disabled characters powers that are common within the world, but if they're one of the only people who has that ability (or similar abilities), ESPECIALLY if it directly helps mitigate their disability, you might want to reconsider that choice. In a world where everyone can fly, it would be weird if your wheelchair user couldn't without an explanation. But if no one else in the story can fly except your wheelchair user, it starts looking more like you just gave them that power so you don't have to think about accessibility in your world. If you really must give your disabled character the rare/unique power, consider making another character with a similar disability but no/more common powers so you aren't just avoiding the issue, or making the power not related to/impact their disability directly (e.g. giving your leg amputee super-hearing.)

Does this power solve a wider access issue in your world, or does it just make it easier for your character alone?

As a general rule of thumb, if you are writing a story where you don't want accessibility issues to be a thing (e.g. a story set in a utopia), focus on fixing the environment, not the characters. Instead of giving your wheelchair user the ability to fly upstairs, give the buildings ramps and lifts. That way, its a solution for everyone with that disability, no matter their access to things like magic or technology. When talking about super-crips, this is especially important, doubly so if your character's power is rare! I made a (mostly joking) post ages ago about an idea for an earth-bender character in the Avatar universe, who gets fed up with republic city being inaccessible and starts earth-bending all the stairs into ramps. This solves the accessibility issue for them, but also makes their environment more accessible for others without bending to get around. Of course, not every disabled character will want to help/care to help others, but often when non-disabled people write disabled characters with powers, they kind of forget that their character won't be the only disabled person in this world. It often feels like they honestly think fixing things for their character means there's no problem anymore, and that's not the case.

Avoid, "I may have [insert disability here] but I can still do stuff because of my power!"

By this, I mean give your character other ways to address issues relating to their disability than just their powers. One funny example I remember reading in a writing group I was a part of was this author who was bragging about how their paralysed character could still drive a car because they had electrokinisis (the ability to telepathically control electronics). Aside from the fact that wouldn't work on all cars - including the one their character drove, since not all cars have electronic components controlling their acceleration and brakes, the way they described it was extremely complex, and overall not worth the effort when the real-life solution, hand controls, was much, much easier and the setting allowed for easy access to that kind of tech. When I pointed this out to them, they said they had no idea hand controls were a thing, and they had no idea that real disabled people could drive. They thankfully changed it, but there's 2 things to take from this: 1, double check that disabled people can do the things you assume they can't, your magic solution might very well not be needed, and 2. variety is important regardless. No one device, or in this case, magic power, should act as a one-size-fits-all solution. IRL disabled people have lots of tools to help us, I have 2 sets of prosthetics for different tasks, a wheelchair, a grabby claw (for reaching things on high shelves when using my short legs and wheelchair) and hand controls in my car (or at least I used to but we won't get into that lol). My prosthetics won't "fix" all my problems, I need other tools too. keep this in mind when it comes to magic too - it shouldn't be the only thing at your character's disposal.

There's nothing to compensate for.

Remember, don't treat your character's disability as something they need to make up for (especially if they "make up for it" using their powers). Your disabled character is allowed to make mistakes, they're allowed to have flaws both related and unrelated to their disability, they're allowed to not be good at some things, and they don't always have to be the best at whatever their roll in the plot is. In most stories, they should be on par with the other characters, or at least in the same ball-park, but as I mentioned before, a lot of stories don't let disabled characters fail. In order to justify them even being present, they are often made out to be the undeniable best, almost to mary-sue levels of perfection and super-crips especially fall into this issue a lot. They can be good at things, but balance it out, like with any other character.

You don't have to use all of these points, but they are still worth at least considering. For example, Toph fails all of these points except the first three. Despite that, she's still one of my favorite disabled characters in media, even if she's not perfect, and I'm not alone in thinking that. I've seen lots of other disabled people say the same about her. Which of these points you should use will depend on your story, character, setting and tone. As I've mentioned a few times now, the key is striking a balance. At the end of the day though, these are only general pieces of advice and a lot more factors go into making a character like this work. only disabled people will be able to tell you if you've pulled it off, and that's where beta-readers and disabled sensitivity readers come in!

Also, remember, these kinds of tropes don't just apply to the more common/well-known disabilities like amputations and wheelchair users, that's just what I have experience with! Be sure to research any disabilities your character has to ensure you are not falling into these tropes.

#Writing Disability with Cy Cyborg #long post #writing disability #disability representation #disabled #writing advice #writeblr #authors of tumblr #writing #authors #writer #on writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #writerblr #creative writing #disability #disabilities #actually disabled #super-crip #disability tropes #disability in media #magical disabled person #tropes #writing trope #writing tropes #good tropes #bad tropes #Gif

[maniacwatchestheworld]

Making up things about Danny Phantom herb lore for fun #1: Blood Blossoms

The specifics as to why Blood Blossoms have such strong ghost-repelling qualities are still unknown. The Blood Blossom flower has a strong and pleasant smell and is edible by humans, having a light, flowery, and sweet flavor to them. Traditionally, it was often used as a famine food, and it was not uncommon for the flowers to be put on bread as they were- cut straight from the stem- and consumed with a bit of butter. As summer turns to autumn, unharvested blood blossoms turn into a fruit known more colloquially as 'Blood Berries.' Blood berries are also edible by humans, maintaining a similar level of sweetness as their flowers, but with a much richer, often overpowering taste. As such, the berries would often be reduced and put into jars of preservers or used as a marinade for meats. Only a little was needed to draw out the richer dimensions of food. While the scent of blood berries will still drive away ghosts, the scent of blood berries is not as strong as their flower counterpart unless actively being cooked. However, dried blood berries, and preserves using them tend to keep especially well in the cold winter months.

While one may assume that Blood Blosdoms were named for their vibrant, red, blood-like hue, it is thought by many historians that blood blossoms were especially favored by the Blood family who hailed from England, and it was them who named the flower. The Blood family's coat of arms features a design that incorporates flowers that look very similar to blood blossoms, perhaps proving to be evidence of this theory.

There are many theories as to why Blood Blossoms repel ghosts, among which is the idea that the scent of these flowers is exceedingly repulsive to ghosts, that something in their chemical makeup makes ectoplasm react in adverse ways when a ghost consumes one, or that it is a component of ghost-repelling spells- therefore ghosts feel a natural aversion to them. However one legend purposes that the reason for why ghosts are repelled by blood blossoms stems from their origin- There is a legend that says that once upon a time, a man would secretly worship at a shrine to a local forest spirit of life and the harvest. The man and his family had been cursed by evil spirits some years before, and where the Christain God had forsaken him and his family, the gentle forest spirit took pity on him and gave him what help she could. He did not have much to offer her. He would work all day in the field and barely yield enough to feed his family. His wife had been injured some years before and so could not work the fields with him anymore, nor could she even ready his meals for him when he returned home each day. And his daughters had fallen under some kind of mysterious illness that, while it fortunately had yet to take their lives, also refused to subside. Still, what little he could spare he would sacrifice to the forest spirit in hopes that she would bring them better fortune, a better crop, and protection from the evil spirits that had cursed him and his family. But one day he came to the nature spirit's alter, a gaping wound in his chest. The ghosts that had cursed his family before had returned for their souls. He did what he could- cast incantations around his humble home, but this injury had been the cost of trying to keep his family safe. The spirits were stronger than his incantations, and it would not be long until the spirits broke through them. He begged the goddess to protect and help his family. Without him, how would they eat? How would his family survive? The humble farmer died on the forest spirit's alter. She wept for the man who sacrificed everything he could to her to protect his family. And so she thought that the least she could do was to grant his wish. Plants erupted from the ground where his blood had spilled, bearing bright red flowers with black thorns. They traveled along the forest path to his home, where they surrounded the building, forcing the ghosts away. They would never return to hurt the family ever again. And with the spirits gone, the daughters were able to heal from the illness. It was soon discovered as they trimmed the wild black thorns back that the flowers were edible and delicious too. The stems and twigs burned especially hot, helping them to keep their hearth warm throughout all the autumn and winter. And the berries kept all the winter through. And so the man's wishes had all come true. For the rest of their days, his family would be protected from the spirits that had haunted them, and they would never need to go hungry ever again.

#danny phantom #danny phantom headcanon #danny phantom herb lore #herb lore #dpxdc #dp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc au #blood blossoms

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Back to Life

human!alastor x human!gnreader

Part 1 of 5+

summary for part: you had just been for a walk in the woods, and now suddenly you’re standing over a historical looking guy with a chipper attitude and… a gun? thankfully he’s here to help you in your bloodied and confused state, but as things play out you can’t help but notice nothing is like it was before your fall, and all you have to trust is the odd grinning man

summary for series: One day when waltzing through the woods a peculiar looking buck led you deeper in, while following, you fell hitting your head and woke to a stranger standing over you. You don’t know where you are, how you got here, or who this guy is, but he’s all you’ve got and he’s utterly insane.

warnings for part: short first chap, lowercase intended; i’m feeling quirkyyy, multiple parts-i put other things aside because my brain is STUCK on human alastor sorry lads ;-;, blood, descriptions of injury, kinda strange stylized writing, i’ve got like a whole story thing planned compared to the other ones-this one’s got a whole plot line. no descriptions of reader- of any kind, no pronouns, i looked up a shit ton of 1920s outfits & speech just for a couple lines lmao, OOC alastor my reasoning behind that is he’s not in hell yet so he hasn’t had that kind of demonic development yet, he’s still a psycho tho and we love him for that, also mommas boy <3, he uses 1920s slang a lot lads, throughout the whole series

warnings for series: homicide, morally grey reader, eventual smut, cannibalism, reader will eat a guy, unknowingly, alastor be doing witchcraft magical madness but it’s never in depth explanations, alastor is a mommas boy and it will be hounded on, annoying 1920s slang, alastor is more accumulated to the era he’s in so he may be OOC 100 years in hell would change a guy, varying descriptions of injuries and blood in detail, takes place in 1927, alastor is 27 oop born in 1899 tho, nothing here is canon, just loosely follows, reader is in their 20s at least; no younger, alastors mom is nameless mostly, maybe later on she’ll have a name; she’s 48, alastor has daddy issues bc same, mimzy may be added later depending,

you remembered seeing a deer while wandering through the woods, you were taking pictures of the scenery when you saw this curious looking deer.

it stood tall with large antlers, a beautiful reddish brown coat, you’d never seen a deer so close. brining your camera up slow you went to snap a picture when your phone crashed, you weren’t even able to get the buck in frame before your phone fizzled out.

the deer started to walk away, but you so badly wanted these pictures. slowly you followed behind, cautious of the leaves and sticks below your feet. you followed it over a fallen tree, through bush and branch. finally you entered an area filled with more foliage, closer trees that blocked off sunlight, more bushes and fallen trees, wild flowers, moss and random mushrooms.

you watched as the buck disappeared behind thick bush, and that’s the last conscious moment you remembered. you woke at the bottom of the hill, when you opened your eyes you didn’t know a thing.

it was like you were a blank slate, everything was as it was; there was no confusion, you were simply in the woods with no worry or question as to why. you laid there, your head lulling from side to side observing the tree covered sky above, the sunlight that shot through the trees highlighting the particles floating through the air.

there wasn’t a sound at all; the animals feared something near. inhaling deeply, you willed your head up, wincing and groaning in pain. suddenly life as you knew it came back to you, you weren’t just a mindless being in the woods, you were you, and you were out here taking pictures and then, fell?

you still weren’t sure what had happened just that you followed a deer and then… fell asleep and woke here. your body ached badly, specifically your forehead, your back, neck and shoulders. it seemed the brunt of the fall was your head, lifting your hand you touched your forehead feeling a flap of skin that wasn’t there before.

looking down at your hand you weren’t surprised to see some blood, in fact the top you had worn had been covered in it. “hello dear, funny place to snooze if ya ask me.” a voice joked, startling you. however your body was too tired to startle, so despite your heart rate increasing, and the jump you felt in your bones, your body remained eerily still, your head slowly turning toward the sound.

standing above you was a man with a soft smile, he wore circluar glasses and the strangest outfit. he wore a coat chestnut brown- a lumberjack coat; strange looking pants that puffed out at the hips, with boots that the pants cinched into them. his hands were covered by gloves, and tiny brown coloured coiled curls popped out from his hunting cap, and on his shoulder a leather strap that allowed a large shotgun to sit on his back.

you were taken aback by his looks, his outfit looked vintage, historical too, and he was, well, gorgeous. “you’re bleeding quite a bit dear, how’s about we getcha up and outta here, hm?” lending his hand to you, the man gave you a charming smile with lidded eyes. you felt something was off about the man, a lingering feeling that something beyond your understanding was telling you to run, get away.

instead you whimpered, pathetically so, and placed your hand into his, letting him hoist you up. he wrapped your arm around him, while he looped his own arm under you, helping you walk. it was hard to do so, your ribs hurt with every breath you took, your head felt like it was floating above your shoulders, your cheeks watered making you swallow constantly, and though you were shivering your body felt ablaze on the inside, like hot coals were lit under your skin.

the man looked down at you, you could see from your peripheral vision he was inspecting you, but you were too pained to care. “how’d you find yourself at the bottom of the hill my dear, someone try to bump you off?” his voice was way too chipper for your current mood, and all you did was mutter a confused ‘huh’ at him, thankfully he laughed that off.

“listen, i’ll take you to my joint my mothers over so we can getcha all patched up, but you’ve gotta spill whatever happened to you if that’s quite alright.” despite the sturdiness in his voice, asserting what was going to happen with expectations, he tone was somewhat kind. dryly you mutter out ‘name?’, your voice raspy and unlike your own. the man chuckled before he responded in a smooth tone. “alastor dear, pleasure to meet you.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #human alastor x reader

[ifyoucandaniel]

exactly one person asked and i’ve been DYING to make this, so here are all of my favorite long batman fanfics in general and for new readers @twisted-tales-told :)

cards on the table by @wesslan ! 69k, completed. this is one of my all time favorite fanfictions, it’s so funny and tim is a mastermind genius and a little liar <3 he basically pretends to be a fortune teller and gives scarily good predictions and advice by stalking the upper class and eventually gets involved with the batfam and has to maintain his lies while dealing with his issues :) 10/10, very found family, good angst, so much lying

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone , 221k, ongoing. this is a batman fanfic rec, of course my bbg dark matter is going to be here <3 this is a MCUxDCU crossover where after infinity war (spoilers for that if you haven’t seen it!) peter parker gets sent to the DCU dimension with part of the soul stone and basically is haunted by the ghosts of the avengers while trying to survive in gotham and get back to his dimension. this is so well written i’ve read it at least three times, it’s still ongoing but trust me it is SO GOOD. i can’t properly describe it, but if you like spider-man and you are interested in batman, you’ll love.

Red is the Color of Sinners by @bluelotuswrites , series, 120k, ongoing, M. i want you to look me in my eyes when i tell you this is my favorite series on ao3. it is set after under the red hood and daredevil 3 where jason and matt meet in a church after jason loses his ability to speak following the events of UTRH. they keep running into each other both as matt and daredevil and eventually jason begins helping matt out with injuries and tech. it’s not finished yet, but there is something so compelling about their dynamic in this series as well as jason’s overall character and how he is portrayed. i’m a sucker for mute jason after UTRH and this series does so well giving him a fresh start and a place away from gotham to heal and build relationships. i cannot recommend enough.

buy back the secrets by @vinelark , 71k, ongoing, T. THIS!!! oh my god, so this is a timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but whenever he’s in trouble tim calls for superboy which leads to them meeting without kon knowing. shenanigans ensure when kon starts spending more time with tim! it’s still ongoing but the author is currently working on the next part and it is so so worth the wait. chapter 4 ends on a cliffhanger though so be warned :))

Sales People Know (listening is the most important part) by Mayhem10, 77k, completed, T. this has the coolest urban magical realism ever. tim basically runs this magic shop that shows up places and people who need something find it in his shop :) it’s kinda a slow burn found family fic with magic themes and a smidge of angst!

Retrograde Motion by Lysical, 112k, completed, T. this is best de-aged kid fic ever. jason gets turned into a 7 year old and basically the outlaws, artemis and biz, join forces with the batfam to take care of him. but trust me when i say this is worth your time, it might sound tropey but in the best way possible!! and jason’s relationship with artemis is sooo important to me in this!

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by britishparty, 54k, completed, M. this is one of the best psychological torture/grooming fics i’ve ever read. pretty much what if while our taking photos of batman and robin, little tim gets kidnapped and black mask gets his hands on him and decides he’s the perfect size for a protege. years of psychological abuse and insane mind games ensue. also tim is a Badass™️

If He Had Come by bronwe_iris, 45k, completed, T. so i’m a little freak and i love the angst of arkham knight jason, but more specifically the aus where bruce saves jason before he becomes the arkham knight! this is an au where bruce finds jason and saves him from the joker after 9 months of torture and brings him home. focuses on his healing mentally and physically and rebuilding his relationship with his family

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee), 43k, completed, T. veeeery good angst. basically what if tim couldn’t die? 43k of tim drake whump where he just dies a bajillion times and eventually his family notices <3

The Birds: Hatching a Family by Oceanera12, 81k, completed, T. this is like “what if the batkids weren’t adopted by bruce, but instead they were all foster siblings who can’t seem to stay out of gotham at night and batman happens to find them and decides obviously he can’t leave these kids to their own business, he has to stick his nose in it” and there’s some angst and heaps of found family

The Hellblazer’s Apprentice by @bluelotuswrites, 29k, ongoing, M. what can i say, im a simple woman, i love to see jason with literally any older male mentor :) basically in UTRH what if he took up an apprenticeship under constantine to learn magic to piss off batman! so good, i really love constantine so seeing him and jason interact in a long fic is so good. also ALL BLADES JASON TODD SAVE ME… ALL BLADES JASON TODD-

something in the static by bonerot19, 101k, ongoing series with three main completed works, T. this is a jason centric series where jason still lives in crime alley with his mom and dad and never stole the batmobile tires. it follows his life in crime alley with an addict mom and an abusive dad and one night when his dad is whaling on him nightwing finds him and the bats just can’t seem to leave him alone after that. steph is his neighbor and best friend also and their relationship is so good. this is a “what if jason took a different way home to the wayne’s” fic series and i love it so much <3

catch the asteroids that come your way by ThePackWantsTheD, 54k, completed, T. i don’t read a lot of ships in the batman fandom i’m sorry, but this kyle/jason one is sooo lovely. basically the two of them growing up together and falling in love and then dealing with the aftermath of A Death in the Family and finding each other again :) really sweet and nice!

hope you find something you like! i realized the majority of these are tim or jason centric, and i love them all dearly, but if anyone has any recs for long fics focusing on any of the other batkids lmk! and any other recs in general, i am a fiend for new fics

#batman fanfiction recommendation #batfam fic rec #batman fic rec #fic: cards on the table #fic: dark matter #fic: red is the color of sinners #fic: buy back the secrets #fic:salespeople know (listening is the most important part) #fic: retrograde motion #fic: hand in unloveable hand (a chokehold) #fic: if he had come #fic: banshee in a well #fic: the hellblazers apprentice #fic: the birds: hatching a family #fic: something in the static #fic: seventeen going under #fic: catch the asteroids that come your way #timkon #jaykyle #timkon fic rec #batman #batfam #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #duke thomas #cassandra cain

[simon-sehs]

suffer (18+)

tags / cw: f!reader, fluff, angst, smut, hatefucking, injury mention, dirty talk, insults, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, pathetic!simon, love confession, happy ending

To this day, you still couldn’t fathom what Ghost’s issue with you was. Granted, he was a weird and mysterious man to begin with, so making sense of his thoughts and feelings seemed daunting when there were bigger concerns.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It didn’t stop the fact that despite the glares and insults, he often graced your bed.

Or you in his.

You were at least glad he was a gracious lover. Maybe it was an ego or superiority thing; after all, if you’re going to fuck the brains of someone you dislike, you may as well make them see stars and ruin them for anyone else.

Unfortunately, he also loved the sound of his own voice.

“Aww, look at you, sergeant. So desperate and needy for me…”

His dick slipped into your cunt with ease, much to your embarrassment. This, of course, would not go unnoticed, or unspoken.

“That’s right… take me in, doll…” He chuckled. “Must suck, feeling how well that pretty pussy molds around me. Like it was made specifically for me…”

“Jesus, shut up and fuck me already.”

“What’s wrong, love?” He slowly moved inside you, his pace gradually building to make you crave more with each second. “I hit a nerve? You gonna throw a tantrum, slap me around?” He smirked.

“Ugh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Freak.” You moaned and felt yourself clenching around him at the thought, despite your insult.

Ghost’s grip on your thighs tightened. “Maybe. Or maybe I just feel like giving you a free pass. God knows your… aw, fuck… hand-to-hand is abysmal. Couldn’t kick my ass to save your life…”

You grit your teeth. “I don’t need to beat your ass. All I need is a few good hits to make you hurt for a while.”

"Hah, you really think you can hurt me… when I've literally taken a bullet for the both of us?" He said bitterly.

You tensed. “Huh? What… mmm… the hell are you on about?”

“Don’t play dumb, you’re too pretty for that.”

You just stared at him.

Slowly, he stopped and stared down at you. “…Are you… serious?”

You blinked up at him.

His face gradually softened, before he let out a sigh. “You don’t know, do you?”

It was your turn to sigh. “Know what?”

He leaned back, despite still being inside you. “That mission we had together, where we were supposed to bring the target in alive… I took a bullet for you after you got knocked out.” His hand traced a scar on his shoulder. “It was either let you die… or let the target escape.”

You stared at him, speechless. “No, you… I… no… no one told me….”

“You were pissed about the target getting away, I… thought you knew. I don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw.

“What? No! I… you’re lying. You’re trying to make this my fault when it was your incompetence that resulted in him getting away…” You said, but with each word that came out, you could feel your resolve crumbling, as pieces clicked into place.

He glared. “You think I care if you believe me? You couldn’t possibly understand why I did what I did.”

“Try me.”

He pulled out of you with a grunt, and you had to resist the urge to whimper at the loss.

“You don’t want to know.”

You were getting pissed. “Quit fucking around, Simon, tell me.”

He growled. Honest to god, growled. “Fuckin’ hell, because I love you.”

Your eyes widened. He stared.

Seconds ticked by. The two of you were stuck in a staring contest.

You relented and glanced away, frowning. But then a gentle touch of his fingers on your chin brought your face back to gaze at his. More staring.

“Christ, say something, you daft girl.”

“Shut up.” You snapped. “I don’t believe you. You’re messing with me.”

“I have better things to do than lie about this shit. Stuffing your cunt, for example.”

“Why do you act like you hate me then?”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “I… because it’s easier to push you away than face the fact that I… Look, it’s to protect the both of us.”

“And yet you’re somehow in my bed.”

“…Yeah.” His fingers remained on your chin. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way and I’ll go. Hell, I’ll leave you alone, even.”

You swallowed, your heart pounding viciously in your chest. “I… I can’t.” You croaked.

Ghost’s face falls. “No… fuck, no…”

“I… I love—“

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin’ say it. Fuck. You’re not supposed to… we can’t. Don’t you get it? We can’t.”

Your eyes started to blur with tears. “Simon… I love you.”

He glanced away, his chest heaving. “Fuck…”

Now you found yourself turning his face to yours, your hand soft on his cheek. Your heart tore at the sight of his own glossy eyes.

“I love you.” You repeated.

He crumbled.

His face sunk into your neck, and he wept.

You froze up, unsure of what to do. But then you found your arms wrapping around him tightly as his tears dotted your sweaty skin.

“I love you…” You say again, softly.

He mumbled something incoherent into your skin.

“Huh?”

Ghost pulled back slightly. “I said, we’re both fuckin’ idiots.”

“Simon… kiss me…”

He stared at you with pathetic puppy eyes, before leaning in and kissing you. It was different, this time. It wasn’t like the previous kisses. The heat was still there, but there was intimacy, longing, love.

You pulled back to moan as he buried himself back inside your aching hole.

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to his chest as if you were at risk of being pulled away from him. Then, he buried his nose back into your neck.

“Fuck… Love you… so much… fuck…”

Ghost pumped into you slowly but deliberately, each stroke a token of his affection.

You could feel a tear of your own running down your cheek. “My Simon… my love…”

He groaned at that, twitching inside you. “Be mine. Only mine. Please. Please…”

“I’m y-yours. Always have been…”

“Fffuck… prove it… come for me, baby…”

You whimpered as his hips slowly met yours over and over again, his pelvis grinding against your clit. “Yes, baby, yes…”

He breathed heavily against your throat. “Say that again. Call me ‘baby’ again…”

“Baby…”

And then you came, fluttering around his cock as his arms tightened around you.

“Fuck… fuck…” He mumbled.

It took four more strokes for him to follow suit, his body shaking slightly on top of you. You had never seen him in such a state before.

Then the room was silent, except for your ragged breaths.

As the both of you laid there, you reached a hand out to tentatively trace the scar on his shoulder. Ghost snuggled into you further.

“I’m yours… never forget that…” He murmured.

“Or… what… you’ll get… shot again?” You smirk.

He sighed. “I was thinking… more along the lines of… making love to you again… to remind you, but… sure… Why not…?”

#simon riley #cod #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #my writing #okay. now that this is out of the way. it’s time for the cousin fic #which is. a lot dirtier. so much dirtier.

[gay-dorito-dust]

HIII can I request Mk1 Bihan hurt/comfort where you’re REALLY upset with him/worried for him after he’s been gone for days with no communication with these prompts i got from your list 😼. “where have you been? do you know what time it is?” and “you said you’d only be two hours. two!” and then maybe ending it with fluff like i just want him to hold me when i’m sleeping lowkey (even though he doesn’t seem like an affectionate person i feel like he would show it with actions rather than words yk) (i hope that’s not too specific 😭

I’m honestly glad to see someone actually use that prompt list, so thank you anon. 🦦 ooc Bi-Han? Or did I make him too mean?

You knew Bi-Han could handle himself and you knew that if he could see you as you were now, fitfully sleeping, biting your nails, worrying yourself sick over his well-being and whereabouts, he’d scoff and remind you that he wasn’t a child to be worried over. You’ve had your past frustrations with Bi-Han when it came to you and your overreactions -as he would put it- in regards to him going on long missions but at least during those other missions didn’t include the loss of communications.

Kuai Liang and Tomas both tried to quell your worries by reaffirming what you already knew about Bi-Han but after some time you began to grow more and more frustrated at how this ice cold bastard, who would often regard you in cold stares and long solemn silences, whilst continuously invalidating your thoughts and feelings, had made you feel so helpless and so fearful on his behalf; despite fully knowing that he wouldn’t have spared you a single thought if your positions were switched. So when Bi-Han finally decided to return later in the darkest of night, needless to say you weren’t even in the slightest bit pleased to see him with the emotional turmoil he put you through.

‘Where have you been?’ You began, annoyance lacing your tone that only grew more evident when you noticed how unperturbed by all this Bi-Han was, as though it was something that he’d expect you to accept as the norm whether you liked it or not. ‘Do you know what time it is?’ You rhetorically added as you crossed your arms over your chest.

‘I don’t ever remember asking you to wait for me.’ Bi-Han puts bluntly as he brushed pasted you as though you weren’t even there, which caused a tightness to form in your throat at how easy it was for him to disregard you. Whilst his attitude towards you made you question your worth to him, It also made you mad at how he thought he could treat you with such little respect, it was an insult that stung you deeply and felt like a spit in the face to the way you were stressing yourself over this unfeeling man for two fucking days!

‘Trust me. I’m not at all pleased about loosing sleep over you either.’ You retorted bitterly, not wanting to look at him for the fact that you were both relieved and irritated of his seemingly safe return. You were relieved to see him safe and with minimal injuries as it silenced the anxious and ominous ideals of him possibly never coming home, which neither were based upon any solid evidence that that was going to be the case. And you were irritated about this because it only meant that your sleepless nights, frequent bouts of anxiety and stress were for nothing. Your worrying was for nothing and you truly hated the conflicting emotions that only Bi-Han could withdraw from you.

‘You said that you’d be gone for two hours. TWO! Not two fucking days with absolutely zero chance of communication to let us know, to let me know that you were alright! That you were safe and that you were coming home!’ You chuckled humourlessly at how stupid and pathetic your words must sound to him but this was how you felt, and to you your feelings were anything but stupid or pathetic. ‘But i guess that’s too much to fucking ask from the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.’ You finished getting everything off of your chest that you’ve been concealing for the past two days, only for them to be regarded with the indignant scoff of an annoyed Bi-Han.

‘I do not need nor want to hear tales of your concern and how worried you were and in regards to the loss of communication that had you so distraught, it was merely a minor hindrance. There was no need to inform anyone of anything, the only thing that mattered was accomplishing the mission, no matter what, even if that meant on the fly improvisation or even in the off chance of never coming back.’ Bi-Han said with a voice so cold you swore you could feel the goosebumps on your arms staring to rise. ‘I shouldn’t be held responsible for the emotions that you feel. You should’ve put more faith in your Grandmaster instead of allowing your own emotions to cloud your judgment, for they only serve to become your undoing during the vital moments.’ He finished and all without sparing a single glance your way as to gauge your reaction, not when he could practically feel it trying to suffocate him with how thick the tension became.

You didn’t have any words, even if you did you wouldn’t know how to articulate them without it come across as disjointed ramblings of things you’ve already said aloud. You felt humiliated and you felt ashamed for standing by and letting it happen but what else could you say to combat that? It was obvious that Bi-Han didn’t care and so after spending two days on the trot, you had truly exhausted yourself both physically and emotionally. You were too tired to keep fighting with a man who might as well have been an ice wall, so instead of continuing your attempt to make Bi-Han see how his actions affected you, you walked out of the room but just before closing the door behind you, you stopped to say; ‘At least I get to say that I am blessed to possess thoughts and feelings. Goodnight Grandmaster.’ Before leaving Bi-Han with his thoughts.

By the time Bi-Han came to bed you were fast asleep. In fact the moment your head hit the pillow you were already deep into the realm of dreams to properly tuck yourself beneath the covers. He welcomed the sight, content that you hadn’t left him yet despite everything that had been said prior, he didn’t have an valid excuse on hand to justify his actions as Bi-Han had become aware that how he spoke to you wasn’t a tone that one should take when speaking to someone they love, nor was the way he disregarded your thoughts and feelings were anywhere near acceptable either.

However Bi-Han found it impartial to vocalise his regret for the way he had acted but fount that he could express that better through other means. So he journeyed to your side of the bed to pull the covers over the top of you, making sure to cover you completely, knowing how you get when the nights grow colder as he quickly pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehand, lingering there for a minute to savour the moment. Bi-Han then moved over towards his side of the bed and tucking himself under the covers before moving himself closer to you until his front was practically pressed up against your back and his arms were caging you against him as to protect you from the dangers that would bring you harm. Yet under Bi-Han’s watchful eye, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. He wouldn’t allow that to ever come to pass for how could he call himself your love if he couldn’t protect you?

#mk1 #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mk imagine #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x reader #sub zero x reader #bi han x you #bi han x reader #bi han imagines #bi han imagine

[universal-verringbebe]

LADS MEN AS YANDERES

Alternatively titled "when your boyfriend is a yandere but that's your kink"

a tentative 18+ MDNI because I don't get explicit but it's HIGHLY suggestive

Zayne:

• My man's is CRAZY possessive and dominant.

• You're not allowed to see any other doctors but him

• Even if he's busy with another patient, he demands that you wait until he's done, regardless of what kind of injury you have

• As soon as you officially get together, he has you moving into his flat

• You WILL be sleeping in his bed every single night, no exceptions

• Don't even think of taking a nap on the couch, it's the bed or nothing

• And you eat that shit up

• Every time he orders you to do something, you have to stop yourself from jumping him right then and there

• Like he'll put a glass of water in front of you and coldly order you to "drink" and suddenly you're on your knees trying to get your fluids from somewhere else.

• You have male friends? Not anymore.

• If some of them suddenly vanished because of some dude named Dawnbreaker, that's not your business.

• The type to have you in bed and make you talk before pleasing you

• "Say my name"

• "Good girl, now say it again but louder"

• "Tell me you're mine"

Xavier:

• He's absolutely the stalker type

• Before you even officially met him, he was stalking you for at least a year.

• The area you used to live in had a high crime rate but you never met any trouble

• Wild, wonder why

• When you moved to a new apartment, he was your neighbor, what a coincidence and he started bonding with you like that,

• Whenever you needed anything or was having trouble with something, he would conveniently be there with a solution.

• You start to suspect the stalking and confront him

• When he confirms you literally just say "wow that's hot, please take me now"

• And that's how you got together

• From then on, he's just glued to your side no matter where you go

• You get a new job? Who's that fine piece of ass that's your coworker? Oh, hi Xavier.

• In bed, and I will continue saying this on main with no shame for xavier specifically, BREEDING KINK 🗣️🗣️🗣️

• He's going to fill you up whether you like it or not

• Spoiler alert: you like it

• "Just take it all my star, gonna make you give me a galaxy"

• "If I put a baby in you, then you really will have to stay with me forever"

Rafayel:

• THIS FUCKER IS MANIPULATIVE and NEEDY

• The moment he laid eyes on you, it was a wrap gg ez

• Like he deliberately will bump his car into yours at a stoplight, say it was your fault and demand your information

• Of course he's not going to make insurance claims or anything, he'll just buy you both a new car

• But now he has your number and you're never getting rid of him

• If he catches someone flirting with you, they'll suddenly find themselves without a job, homeless, in prison for 10 years for a crime he definitely committed and pinned it on them.

• And you're just here like, damn, you're so sexy when you ruin other people's lives🤪🥴🥵

• He said say less and proposed to you right then and there.

• How dare you not have your attention on him 25/8, do you even love him?

• Definitely needs affirmations every 0.3 seconds

• Also demands you prove your love to him. Like, if you love him, you'll pose nude in front of a whole class just so he can watch you squirm

• Spoiler alert: you're squirming because this arouses you

• LOVES marking you up and buying you revealing clothing to show his artwork off

• "They all need to know you're mine"

• "Don't cover that up. In fact, let me make it bigger, come here"

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #i had to #i haven't slept in 24 hours and im insanely proud of this brainrot #but also ive been on a yandere kick lately #I DO NOT ACTUALLY CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR OUTSIDE OF ROLEPLAY SCENARIOS I SWEAR

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Could I please request Alastor seeing his QP partner attacking/distracting Adam during the finale so that he could get away, and maybe some angst of Alastor knowing he can't go and help them in his near death condition, and not knowing if they're dead or alive. Spoiler they're fine you don't become close with the Radio Demon without being some sort of badass.

Sorry if this is too specific, I hope you're having a good day.

I sort of combined this one with @meefy's request (this one). It doesn't totally match the asks, so I apologize. I threw this together between classes a bit hastily, so sorry if the pacing or writing seems off.

Yeah, Reader is a little OP. Oh well.

May or may not write a continuation where Al takes care of Reader's injuries...

TW: Canon-typical violence

Let Me Help You

Alastor x Reader (QP)

There were suddenly angels fucking everywhere. Gold ichor mixed with deep red in pools on the ground. Alastor’s shield had shattered. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and the shield was gone. 

You tried to look for Alastor on the roof, anything to show he was alright. A flash of green followed by the distinct sight of Alastor’s tentacles helped soothe your worrying, turning back to the fight at hand. He’d be okay. He was one of the most powerful demons in Hell, he had to be okay. 

Regardless, you started to fight your way to the roof, cutting angels down left and right. Your prowess in battle had started to show through, dodging expertly before retaliating effortlessly. But there were so many of them. 

The numbers became overwhelming. Angel after angel started flanking you at every angle. You were trying to keep your eye on Alastor, but you kept nearly tripping over corpses instead. An angelic spear grazed your cheek, causing you to lash out, knocking back the growing crowd before tearing them apart one by one.

A terrible sinking feeling developed in your stomach, causing your focus to go straight up. With a flash, you teleported yourself to the roof. Alastor was half-transformed, a sinister grin filling his face while his signature tentacles framed his figure.

Adam, the first man himself, was in the air, brandishing a weapon resembling a guitar.

“--Cuz radio is fucking dead!” Adam shouted, as a bright flash of light caused you to shield your eyes. 

The moment the light subsided, your eyes widened in shock. 

“What just happened?” Alastor looked around frantically, locking eyes with you before seeing his cane in his hands, snapped in half. “Fuck.”

Neither of you saw Adam fly back down, swinging his weapon down. Alastor fell back into the ground, blood dripping from a huge gaping wound in his chest.

“Alastor!” You cried, running over to stand in front of him. Staring Adam down, your face pulled into a snarl. “You motherfucker!” Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you lunged at the angel.

 

Using your lightning-fast reflexes to your advantage, you managed to dodge any attack Adam sent your way. You narrowly missed getting obliterated multiple times, but what matters is that Adam’s focus is on you. Stealing a quick glance back at where Alastor was leaning against the wall, the huge gash in his chest slowly soaking his shirt with blood, you saw him melt into the shadows while glaring heavily at Adam with his ever-present smile. 

“Oh no,” Adam mocked. “Did I just kill your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” You focused all your anger, all your worry, into misdirecting Adam. At this point, you were just trying to keep him busy. Luckily, you’d learned some things during your time in Hell, thanks to Alastor. Keeping Adam running back and forth wasn’t that difficult, or at least you tried to keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you tired him out, or let the others focus on the horde of angels, it would help?

Where did Alastor even go? How were you supposed to find him when he just disappeared in thin air? Was he going to be okay? What would happen if he died? Would you do if he died?

Somehow, even though you were distracted, you kept dodging Adam’s attacks. The fatigue was growing on you, though. Adam was definitely not like the other angels. Any time you tried to attack him, he dodged or countered before you could react properly. His attacks were too strong for you to take head-on, which was why you were stuck dodging everything. 

“Now this is just fucking boring,” Adam groaned. With a movement of his fingers, you found yourself on the ground with a flash of light. A burning sensation ripped a pained cry from your chest as you doubled over, coughing up blood. 

Adam kicked your side for good measure, sending you careening off the building. “Fucking pussy.” 

You mustered a portal before you hit the ground, softening your fall as you rolled into your bedroom. It still hurt, pain causing your body to spasm. Dangerous-looking burns decorated the skin on the upper half of your body. While your vision faded in and out of focus, you tried to use some of your power to heal yourself as best you could. 

The pain eased just enough that you could focus on the matter at hand: finding Alastor. At this point, you couldn’t give a shit whether angels killed everyone in Hell or not. You needed to find your partner. You needed to find Alastor. 

Hands shaking, you mentally went through a checklist of every place in Hell you’d ever been to, trying to determine where he’d have gone. 

Almost like mockery, the old radio that sat on your desk crackled faintly. Of course! Where else would Alastor be but the one place he feels most in control. 

Rather than trying to make another portal, you picked yourself up off the floor and started walking. The hotel itself was abandoned, making it easy for you to traverse the halls without interruption. Your body ached as adrenaline started to wear off, but at least you could function. Who’s to say what Alastor was capable of. 

You cringed at the memory of his wound. Not only was it long, but it looked deep, with blood steadily leaking out. Alastor’s signature red outfit and his blood was not a good combo, you decided. Yes, it might match, but it was not right. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to the recording booth near the top of the hotel, carefully making sure you stayed out of sight. Your wounds healed little by little as you walked, your natural healing factor kicking in. A few well-placed deals, and your healing was nearly ten times as fast as a regular Sinner’s.

There was no need to knock, the door hanging from its hinges. The recording booth was in massive disarray. And in the center, leaning weakly in his chair, sat the man you were looking for. 

“Alastor.” You breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him still alive, but further inspection didn’t do much to help your nerves. His breathing was shallow, expression pained but somehow still holding a strained grin. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp. 

“Helping you, obviously,” you snapped in reply. There was no first aid kit nearby, so you just ripped sections of your jacket off, forcefully shoving the scraps onto Alastor’s still-bleeding chest. 

“I do not need your help,” he snarled back. Despite his words, he didn’t try to discard the fabric you were now pressing into his wound. 

When Alastor finched, you hesitated. You didn’t want to cause him any more pain, be it physical or emotional, but you knew he’d insist on trying to deal with everything himself. You were a similar way, but he’d also do the exact same thing you were doing if the situation were reversed. 

Gritting your teeth, you forcefully held the fabric to him as it slowly became blood soaked. “Summon a damn first aid kit.”

“I said–”

“I don’t fucking care.” You raised your head, meeting Alastor’s eyes so he knew you were serious. Was your voice shaking? Maybe. Were you scared? Most definitely. Was Alastor more important? Always. “Let me help you.”

Alastor visibly deflated, bringing a hand to his face. “Fine.” His voice was stiff, defiant. With a wave of his hand, a first aid kit appeared beside you. 

You were silent as you worked, now with actual medical supplies at your disposal. Any training you’d had while you were alive all came back to you while you attempted not to make the injury any worse than it already was. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were still alive,” Alastor admitted quietly after a few minutes. “Adam was much… more than I’d anticipated. I appreciate that you allowed me to retreat.”

Pausing, you looked Alastor up and down, possibly to see if he had a head injury as well. Never, in all your years, had Alastor ever said anything so kind to you. 

“What else would I do?” You shrugged. “Leave you to die? In your dreams, maybe. We’ve been friends for so many years, I’ve lost count. So of course I helped you, you stubborn asshole. A psychopathic angel is nothing if it means helping you.”

Alastor was silent for a moment. “If Adam had killed you…” The room filled with static, Alastor’s true demon form coming out ever-so-slightly. “I was prepared to burn all of Heaven to the ground.”

“Thanks for the sentiment, Al.” Your expression softened, unable to deny the smile that grew on your face. “Now, sit up so I can secure this gauze.”

Hours later, after the hotel had been rebuilt and you were prepared to act like Soft Alastor had never happened, an arm looped in yours. Alastor stood beside you, smiling down like always. 

“Come now, dearest. It’s time for supper!” 

Something about Alastor was different now. His expression was altered. He’d seemed more defensive in the aftermath of the battle, however, he seemed to do the exact opposite around you. 

It was subtle enough that only you (and maybe Rosie) would be able to tell. Luckily, for Alastor, you were perfectly content keeping your observations to yourself.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #rhys-writes #rhys-replies #alastor x reader queerplatonic #hazbin hotel alastor

[matrixbearer2024]

Small Subtleties

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Direct aftermath to 'Muddled Morality' reader still doesn't know why they're special to Vox despite the fact literally everyone else can see it- poor TV man just wants to make you happy but he's genuinely so confused he doesn't know what to do with himself. Bro can't tell if we care in that way or not and he's just stuck HANGING- I love messing with them it's fuckin amazing HAHAHAHAHA-

A/N: Angel and Vox don't have the greatest of relationships at all- they're kind of just acquaintances and that's it. Then Reader got stuck in the mix and then it's all complicated XD. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and as always- happy reading!

You were just messing with your phone on one of the couches in the hotel lobby when a certain spider sat down next to you.

It made you finally look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

That was when you realized his posture and tone.

Why was Angel nervous?

Well, nervous or worried, you couldn't tell between the two.

But that had caught your attention.

"Yeah Angel? What's up?"

"Did you uh- by chance say anything specific to Vox?"

By this point you'd nearly forgotten about your recent fight with the overlord.

After all, it's been nearly a week since that evening.

You never really stayed angry with someone for too long, unless they deserved it.

Or unless they just managed to piss you off anyway by existing.

Like a really weird and creepy deer-

But Angel's question made you remember the incident.

You and Vox had only exchanged texts ever since that night.

You didn't have the courage to ask him to visit, and you doubted he would've agreed to anyway.

At least he was still responding to your messages.

"Why? Did something happen? Did he do something to you?"

"What? No! No! He uhm... he's been stepping in when Val would get rough these past few days. Wouldn't explain why when I asked."

"Ha... He what?"

That took you by surprise.

You knew how stubborn and prideful the TV overlord could be.

But he actually listened to you?

Where was Vox and who the fuck replaced him-

"Well, yeah. But he never minded Valentino's treatment before. And when I asked-"

Angel never could understand how or why his boss was so easily placated by his flatscreen colleague.

That you had also unintentionally befriended and become extremely close with.

Did it have to do with the screens?

Moths did like blue light right?

Even then, watching the pimp temporarily leave the studio in a huff-

He didn't exactly believe that was just the case.

Not to mention the elephant in the room, why did Vox jump in?

He never did before-

So why now?

"I had that handled, thank you. Didn't think that you were sticking your head in the porn business now."

The overlord in question just tiredly rolled his eyes at the comment.

Wasn't he going to retort?

Not to mention, Angel noticed the guy giving him a subtle once-over.

It wasn't lustful like he expected either, as if Vox was seriously just checking if there were any injuries or issues.

Which was... weird???

"It's bad for the Vees image and brand if any press about Val's maltreatment gets out. Don't think about it too much."

That response just confused the spider more, especially when the guy just nonchalantly turned around and left!

Like, did he realize how odd he just was?!

All throughout the week he'd been interrupting, standing in between him and Valentino when these incidents would start.

And Vox's answer was always the same.

So Angel figured he'd do the next best thing since there was no getting an answer out of the TV demon.

He'd go to you instead.

"Then he would just walk out like nothing happened?!"

You couldn't help the small smile on your face when the pornstar next to you retold his story.

Of course Vox would pull up such a generic answer.

He had a persona to uphold with his empire and everything after all.

Still, you knew better than to believe he simply started caring.

This wasn't a fairytale.

You looked over at your phone with a small smile, typing a quick message to a certain someone.

When Vox saw his phone buzz with another message from you, he was surprised to see just two words and a heart emoticon.

"Thank you."

It didn't immediately connect for the overlord what you could be thanking him for.

Especially when his mind was still blitzing about work.

Was it a favor you'd asked of him?

Did you mention anything earlier??

Was this about something he mentioned earlier???

He stared at his phone for a little while trying to piece together the puzzle when everything suddenly fell into place.

Oh.

Maybe he should've realized it sooner.

"Is this about Angel?"

"Yeah, I'm glad you listened to me. What made you change your mind?"

You did.

He immediately deleted that reply, only barely catching himself before hitting send.

Fuck.

That was close.

Too close actually.

"Just some concerns I had about any information leaking to the media. Don't really wanna deal with any bad press at the moment."

You knew that reply was bullshit, Vox controlled all the media.

Well, him and Velvette more or less.

And he could use his hypnosis to make the reporters forget any scandals if they ever did happen anyway.

This wasn't anything that should've been of concern to him.

But you could play his game.

"Well, thanks anyhow. I know you didn't need to put in that extra effort."

"It's nothing much. Anyway, did you need anything else?"

Your smile just grew a little bigger at his concern.

You didn't mind the unique treatment.

It made you feel all the more special when it came to your overlord companion.

"Nah, unless you wanna come over? Charlie wants to have a game night and I need allies against smiles. I'm not letting his old ass beat me again in monopoly."

Vox couldn't stop the grin forming when he read your message.

He didn't necessarily help Angel Dust because he cared-

Honestly he didn't, but he cared about you.

And it really didn't sit right that he'd made you upset because of his inaction.

As much as he tried to brush the feeling off, it kept looming over like a cloud that wouldn't go away.

Your brief text exchanges and cold messages didn't really help.

So Vox eventually caved in anyway and did as you asked.

Well, more like indirectly hinted at given what you were angry about-

At this point, anyone who knew the both of you was aware that the overlord you befriended was not above giving you the sun and the stars if he could.

All you needed to do was ask.

Vox let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing a hand over his screen.

He was getting soft.

"Sure doll, I'll see you later."

But he found that he didn't really mind.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #get off my screen series #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

[mythsandheather]

What I hate the most about LO is that Rachel is making the romance between actual gods backward. Aphrodite and Hephaestus were a couple but Aphrodite found him repulsing so she cheated on him with Ares. Even after that cheating on Hephaestus, Ares, and Aphrodite were the only sane couple in Greek myths. Apollo had his fair share of lovers (if you exclude Daphne) with him being in love with BOTH male and female and how does Rachel do justice to his character? By making him a R*****

The saga of Ares, Aphrodite and Hephaestus is often terribly misunderstood and LO is no exception, except that she weaponises it in her narrative and portrays it arguably at its worst.

The original story of these three is often stripped down to the bare basics along the lines of either “star-crossed lovers and ugly loser dude who got in their way” or “bad slutty woman cheats on poor helpless (but still ugly loser) dude with angry frat bro” and it’s wild. It’s a story, at least how I see it, about love, pain and compromise for what you need for yourself.

Hephaestus is hurt, angry and traumatised by his parents abuse of him, specifically Hera, and so he traps her in his specially made throne. He has a point to make and for the first time in his life, he will not be ignored.

Aphrodite is offered as the prize for freeing Hera, without her consent, and so is also hurt, worried and angry, especially when Hephaestus wins her hand. She is handed off to a man she barely knows, let alone loves, and can’t do anything about it

Ares is both not strong to free his mother, nor able to keep the woman he adores from being handed off to someone else — his own brother, no less, and has to just sit and watch. He is humiliated, he is hurt, he is angry.

The retelling I like the most is from Stephen Fry’s Mythos, where Aphrodite and Ares are already engaged when the throne incident happens, Zeus assuring them that surely since Ares is the strongest, he’ll be the one to free Hera. Even Zeus is humanised. Aphrodite’s hand being offered is him making a rash decision to motivate the other gods out of his desperation to free his wife.

When Hephaestus arrives and frees Hera, it’s not what anyone expected and Hephaestus makes it very clear that he’s not doing this to get the girl, so much as to make it clear he’s a force to be reckoned with.

He had Aphrodite seperate shortly after their marriage and she goes on her way with Ares while Hephaestus goes about his work, now with the respect he wanted for his craftsmanship. Ares, Aphrodite and Hephaestus are all on relatively amicable terms as later stories unfold too, especially compared to the fighting of the other gods.

In some versions, Dionysus intervenes and convinces Hephaestus with some alcohol both to free Hera and not to pursue Aphrodite, and Hephaestus agrees.

Now, you might be looking at all this and thinking “wow, what a nuanced tale and what a mature way everyone ended up handling it! Everyone here is flawed yet you like and relate to all of them! Surely this would make a great adaptation for a ‘feminist retelling’!” You’d be wrong.

Ares is a douchey dudebro who is obsessed with Persephone cuz reasons and exists to say every oversexualised, gross, objectifying thought Rachel herself has while drooling over her self insert but can’t make Hades say cuz he’s supposed to be a gentleman.

Aphrodite is a petty caricature of influencers and Kim Kardashian and her hyper sexualised nature is a bad thing and entirely her own fault when something bad happens to her. She’s also purple. I will never not be mad about Aphrodite not being pink.

She and Ares break up because -insert slut-shaming, not like the other girls logic to defend Persephone- here and she marries Hephaestus.

Hephaestus is set dressing, at best. Every cool attribute he has is stolen and given to Hades and instead of being ugly due to injury or physical deformity and this being a source of how mistreated he is, he’s just…black-coded and with prosthetic legs. If that made you slightly uncomfortable, it should.

Speaking of minorities being taken, chewed up and spat out by Lore Olympus, that brings us to Apollo. Poor, poor Apollo. One of the most beloved and influential of the Theoi, literally unrecognisable and reduced to being the self-insert’s r*pist because, you guessed it, reasons.

Let me add to all the people saying it, because it needs to be repeated; APOLLO DID NOT ASSAULT PERSEPHONE IN THE MYTHS OR ANYWHERE EXCEPT LORE OLYMPUS.

I know it’s probably not intended to be homophobic how Apollo is treated in LO, but fuck it, that’s how it smells to me, so that’s what I call it.

Every character, every relationship, every story serves to boost the Rachel x Mads fapfic Persephone and Hades love story and it’s nasty. How the fuck are you gonna call yourself a folklorist and do this?

#antiloreolympus #lo critical #lore olympus critical #lo criticism #anti lore olympus #lore olympus criticism

[simpforwebtoonmen]

★lookism characters with an s/o with a similar fighting style as Bayonetta

feat. Daniel Park, Eli Jang, and Euntae Lee (Vasco)

notes/warnings: reader is a woman, fighting, flirting, fluff, kind of ooc characters (for Daniel's at least), not based on specific event in lookism besides for Eli's. not proof read. (lmk if I missed anything!)

i've been playing Bayonetta lately and omg do I love it.

Daniel★

"huh?" he questioned. the only thing distracting him from his aching body and bloody fists was the woman in front of him.

She dodged a punch from her opponent by backflipping elegantly; her arms stretched out and her legs swinging one after another into the air and her back arching perfectly. she landed on her two feet and stood up straight, as if the backflip took no energy from her at all.

God, if she wasn't perfect before (which she was in daniel's eyes), she was definitely beyond amazing at this point.

The way she delivered her kicks to each opponent, the way she would maneuver her body to hit her opponent in a specific spot, and her stance when she finished all 10 men off.

"oh.my.god." Daniel slowly stood up from the ground and wobbled his way over to his girlfriend that just saved him, aka, you.

You quickly ran over to him when you caught sight of his weakened state. putting a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, you examined him for major injuries that might need treatment at the hospital. as you did that, Daniel only admired, thinking to himself how he got so lucky; landing on a strong and elegant woman.

"Are you okay, Daniel? you seem to be in a daze. did you hit your head?" you questioned him, going on your tip toes to get a better look at his head. In a vague motion, he shook his head, "just thinking about you," he admitted.

You got off your toes and stared at Daniel, wondering if something was really wrong with him. "what?" was all you could manage to say. "you're just so perfect..." he let out a somewhat dreamy sigh as his face dropped into what looked to be a lovesick gaze. maybe there really was something wrong with him. but nevertheless, his words still made you very flustered.

Eli ★

he and warren were trying his their hardest to protect Hostel against the old men from (tiger sum company?). Suddenly overpowered by one of the old men, Warren screams for Eli seeing him getting beat down. and even though, eli could've easily gotten back up he wasn't given the chance to when a shadow flew overhead.

Suddenly the old man flew out of Eli's sight and was instead met with a leg stretched out. the shape of the leg was all to recognizable and his eyes trailed up to the thigh, then to the hips and waist, and (not so subtly) up the curve of their chest, his gaze is finally met with yours.

You grinned as you watched him shamelessly check you out despite the situation, "like what you see, perv?" you teased. just then, he's realized what he'd done, a pink color spreading across his cheeks, "i-it's not like that-" he tried to explain but you suddenly disappeared.

you made your way to the other side of the field as you saw the old man get back up as if unscathed by your kick.

Eli was surprised to see that you could hold your own against such a powerful opponent. And not only were your kicks and punches powerful, but your jumps were impressively high and you were all too quick at times for Eli to keep up.

but suddenly, with an elbow to the chest, you flew back into a part of the playground. You groaned as you sat up, "well are you gonna help me or are you just gonna watch?" you shouted from where you were. And as the old man suddenly flew above you, intending to deliver a powerful blow, you were quick to jump up and dodge his attack.

finally, eli snapped out of his trance. "oh!" He got up from where he sat and made his way to you and the old man. The two of you stood in a powerful stance before the old man, making his 'tsk'.

"tag teaming, are we? we'll that's no fair, now is it?"

Vasco ★

"let me join."

"no."

"please."

"no."

"please! with ice cream and whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles, and cherry on top!"

"hmm, sounds kinda good ngl....but no."

you slumped on your spot on the floor. You've been dating Vasco for about 6 months now and have only seen him fight just recently. You couldn't help but think just how much more amazing it made him look on your eyes, to fight for such a heroic and selfless cause. you wanted to be a part of that too, but for some reason, he won't let you.

"c'mon dude...at least tell me why I can't join you guys..." you looked back up at Vasco, hoping he'd give you an explanation. he sighs, "because it's dangerous work we do and I don't want you to get hurt," he explained, his gaze softening. He doesn't think he could handle seeing you get hurt, no less because of him.

But that's when you realized that he didn't know.

You stood up quite abruptly and pointed a declaring finger at him. "I wanna duel!" you shouted, squinting your eyes at him to make yourself look more serious, but to him, you just looked cute. that and he was surprised to hear such a declaration from you.

"w-what?"

"you and me. outside. duel."

and here you both were. outside in an open and seemingly empty field.

he felt extremely unsure if he should really do this. He decided that he was just going to pin you down and make you give up. talk about underestimating your opponent, am i right?

slowly, you inched closer to your opponent, make it seem like you were going to attack first. Vasco, got the idea that you were going to attack at any moment and took it upon himself to lounge for you first, to prevent any sort of fight happening between the two of you.

But suddenly, instead of being met with your body, he was met with his face in the dirt. did you just dodge his attack, by backflipping no less? he lifted his head from the dirt and brought his hands back to lift himself from the ground, but a force on his back pushed him back down onto the dirt. He turned his head to look back at who it was, and surprise surprise, it was you with your foot on his back.

"how did-"

"how did i end up back here when I was just in front of you?" you finished his question for him. you grinned before taking your foot off his back, "keep underestimating me and I might just win this fight," you teased.

he lifted himself from the ground, turning to you with a frown on his face. he was confused to say the least. how did you move so fast? and how strong is your leg to keep him pinned down despite his efforts of getting up? he didn't know the answers to those questions, but he knew now to take you seriously.

"alright fine, let's do this," he lifted his fists up along with his knee, his signature stance. for a moment, his position softened, "don't be afraid to tap out, okay? I don't want to hurt you..."

for a moment, you laughed, "haha, don't worry, I will. same goes for you."

and just like that, you two began your fight.

-

"are you done yet?" you yawned as you sat on his back, your feet planted on his calves to keep him from moving. He tried to swing his arms up behind him but he simply couldn't reach you. finally, he sighed, "fine...you win..."

#lookism x reader #lookism #daniel park #euntae lee #lookism daniel x reader #lookism vasco x reader #lookism vasco #lookism eli #eli jang x reader #eli jang x reader #eli jang