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libidomechanica · 1 year

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“So this guilty hand”

A tanka sequence

Just the lake’s surface. French were unjust. So this guilty hand! I started up, whence all my lovely To-morrow I brew my beer.

When these phrase, wherein lies happiness? For the truth doth breed, had seen thee and brought into her Dearie; I restless night and those regions?

To his owlet pinions darken; and shame shines. How somewhere i have nothing that runneth ever by the times unto the pleasure!

Who hath the Sum of right have Vizírs—but be they do we longer tarry. Under through whole age of linger in a sloping meal?

—Whose pants do make vnspilling ear attend the mouth. As if crooning over striven to hide that title doth breed, to stirred at their earth.

And I have seen my heart doth include those who are false to sayne for beautiful. Spring, should let its five days’ white. Time for themselves.

How the other lord. To his shroud; and the pale lies bare to eat a peach? Time to die, her soule vnbodied Good, some old text, still more free.

Of feathers, too, his streams,—even they in the secret love does the nearest of all. A rib’s a thousand living recollection.

A crescent’s coruscation, to be plac’d fore damask roses. Let me in which so long I could not change. ’ There let its five days’ white.

Than unswept stone besmear’d with teares doth come this cannot be—who binds himself more and launch. Thine ailment: tell me Love is so sick?

Yourself arise, you may have the eyes of duetie to death! Under tower of myrth now she passed her, the semblance of good as Fort Knox.

All that grows holds in perfection. Upon thy side again in thee. Love the same given to my hand, fair and never grownde did preach.

Sad, cheeped, trilled and twittered! The Lady of Shalott. The thinks of it selfe he may find his forgotten hand the sun’s eyes.

In the road be head or heart? Poets throned queen there was a soft October nightly votes particularly peopling Earth, nay!

So much dangerous sky. The Starrs, all are? You were in strife is shame. Blackened about thee stand wakened, shiver. And we not see’t?

To one, who was a library fine, I’ve got my gruel! The list of all. They err I dare to perceived with White-thorn neatly drawn.

His divine, a patron of some time, and sail for a heart do hit, that, alas! Submits his eyelid’s distance like an architect.

The fieldes so free. Will it not serve your bones supersede loveliness. What Juan’s chariot, rolling like-hat relationship.

Wings presence was outspread but as they sat, had ever spring? Close by, began dancing o’er the might be redeem’d a second yoke.

I try to think of yellow smoke that it should be. Was here be, as thou my old companies nimbly began to musick lendeth!

That alp. And love is merchandized whose hands found againe: forget and still, a sleepe, witness best, and some world with under the starre.

Thee, find the wind said, Alas! Gift refuse, nor with sounds, though I lacked its harvesters rich and do you, all so sure a plot had laide.

On desperate mortal love. Look there, a garden- crowned lip, and snaky Persius, the terrace, made deeper than night-swollen mushrooms?

To my misfortune and felt. There stood with all her stand, where thou wert to shed, over the stain ingrain, and let the dear offices.

Or all, what is, is; then awakes the more free. The red-breast I oft haue no more—and so grac’d to be plac’d fore damask roses.

The queen myself I cried, Hold! Echo hence at the dreamed away again. Spring, and I fetch her from your diminutive villains!

Don Juan, takes and with tempests play. Yet if you still german, I stood a marble, I needed a music- master. And so the gate.

Leaving my eye, until they think of. It is, that to myself known, everywhere older and pleasant now than when she saw Ilion?

Praised be all liars and long the shepheard can astert: Fayre fieldes ay fresh, as it rose, I moved as in Banquo’s glass, nor give them.

Arise, Oh Moon of Majesty unwaned! Him with flowers budded newly; and thro’ the world, which becks our ready ear to me.

To you, to whom every little bird, that must pursued his traine; what after all, what is love? And lost in him; cold starlight on each?

Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots, kings, and burgher, lord and considering guide, amongst live poets and there! Sketch in May.

To the straw soles shred on the season, thou haunt’st me; and all their dear Eulalie before and are green. Deer- herd bent, sacred part of it.

Must thy heart thou are she, still, patches, ropes of shadow, since his rosy children teares finding westward up their petty ocean.

Sorrow not only in your member’d hours, such light laugh. Is idle; let us go and plump the haire, which you close, ne’er to wake more!

I play for malice show appear untouched by love for you got it, rubbing your memories of hel, and wonderful, without it.

Bowers. Thee strong bow into this goodly company instead of wicks, to let thy love. And wiser than all round as wise a dream.

And oh, her dreams I slept, and never me from reality. The king is awake, and maybe wildest dreams themselves out of Night.

That I am cattle to point they pelt each other’s grave; ghosts gliding without depth, without fewell you with me. On Cupids dart.

Four gray walls, and all this poor endeavour after me for the jars of sunset. This sinne was spent. Of either meant nor will not love.

Come, let me in, let me be thinking of you where i have no private life. Putting your eyes, with ministring look at us all.

To suddenly transfigured into the leaves, of the evening-moon.— Tell her-—so I stay’d my foolish tongue, although if I knew.

The faulter in the people is, or seen Timbuctoo, or hath offended Prince at the star that set may rise and let’s goe a Maying.

Young love were a whole troupes of sand, its other tons, ’ which in her with delight the lords of Pan: ay greatness flickering black despair.

Last little Castlereagh? The colors of painted; youth, when for a glass of Justice take their own, belonging to give what was Rome.

This is the exact affairs is most too blame doth beauty could learned Booke. The dreary vault receive our Liberal, who can blame him?

Is fancy but reality. The tale had touch the sheaves when love’s milky way among the alphabet on her own couch, new made!

I’d have been crying. The same declivity which makes us lie dejected, meaneth on the fier of myrth now lacks her woes?

For let me in a row like a stone, that lift and drove past some iouisaunce? The freshness of herself she will reverse. Tamed by delight.

But you in me so happy pens whither do I roam? And dance which Sense and fairy phantasies of the way it can enlighten.

That it is poetry, and of pearl garland wear my oracle of Medicine say. Four are they. Talk about a soul with you.

Pledged she falls, that’s how much of that; and as coy be as you’d coax a vampire. And the bottoms of a shepherd’s tongue into dust ygoe.

She asked: Melchior? While everywhere, and for the window’d heart is sair, that’s asymptotic to a goal, which now he is my name.

To tunes and love you I love you left them up, in bidding hence all to me, you like a fiend in a trance, beholding all his own.

But that break from this sinne was sent o’er. Is, or seen Timbuctoo, or hath the thick and some kept up a shriek like a cheek, catch your dwarf.

All yesterday stung by a downward glance together. Sit smiling and greene bayes to weariness, there yet the tip-top, there his traine.

A tinting and grac’d to be loved looked out my ears: aye, thought I, Morphean fount of their power, and short tunes? There lay a boar-spear keen.

It is the last oozings hours of death I find no such sort as, though I lacked it. The milliners who don’t differ, except the Whigs?

The Landholders was thine eies, the darken; and the fence. I lived for so long seal’d on her tenderest at ever sings a loud song.

Her souls relate in other sort of oneness, ye may, go marry her if she succeeded. For one plants increas’d the silently.

Neither mine nor me, thoughts, hart of mock-heroic— true-sublime? And would we defer our huntsman: Breath of him wasn’t Sanforized?

And meet some instincts. In grayish doubt is what I love is merchandized whose was a bachelor, which, with paine this will the matter.

Gladly spent; sing the whole age of lingered species, huddled in the bonds broke the Atlantic Ocean on my bliss—I was distraught.

I know a trick or two; and was interrupted by a man. It once I her did it become, and howling: she reach’d for: with snow.

For such a truth mai’st see, doe not grieve, that detail outside. Juno still say, whistle though my labyrinthine hair. World to hold it!

My business—which, if this cool cell, far as the cell of sea. Would also bonfires made of the moors was only one attorney.

Like our wide eyes of dapple brown: who stood the quieted. Again she caught this heaven! Moreover, through the night. I love you like.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #158 texts #tanka sequence

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

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So here it is, the thing that I've been working on for so long that I haven't posted anything else, My magnum opus of fanfiction. I had to write it all at once or I knew I would never finish it lol.

Warning: This fic is quite angsty. There's some sex in later chapters and a little violence and I will tag those chapters as necessary, but mostly there's just a lot of crying and emotions and being dumb.

Kidnapped to Hell (pt. 1)

Lucifer shot up in bed, startled awake by the sound of Hoshiko screaming for him and for his help.

He looked around his room frantically, certain that their scream had come from right inside his room. Upon finding no one else present, he poked his head out into the hall to see if anyone else was awake. It was then that he finally gathered his thoughts enough to remember that Hoshiko wasn't even supposed to be in the Devildom at the moment.

He sighed and shook his head as he climbed back into bed, suspecting that he had just had a nightmare. He looked at his DDD, sighing again when he saw that it was nearly a quarter until 5 in the morning. He sent Hoshiko a quick text message: - Thinking of you. I love you.- before putting it down and trying to go back to sleep.

While he had rested, he never fully fell back asleep by the time he had to get up to get ready for school.

Lucifer checked his DDD again and while he was not terribly surprised to find that Hoshiko had not responded to him yet, there was a feeling of unease that he was unable to shake.

Lucifer left for RAD that morning without bothering to eat breakfast before hand, the feeling of unease leaving him without an appetite.

He constantly checked his phone for a reply from Hoshiko throughout the day, to the point that even Diavolo was curious about what he was looking at.

The demon prince snatched Lucifer's phone from him while they were having lunch together.

"Hey! Give that back," Lucifer accosted.

"What are you looking at?" Diavolo asked, totally ignoring Lucifer's demand.

Lucifer sighed. "I texted Hoshiko this morning and they haven't responded yet."

Diavolo looked at the time stamp on Lucifer's text. "Why did you text Hoshiko at... 4:44 in the morning?"

"Because I was thinking about them at that time."

Diavolo gave him a disapproving look. "Why were you awake at that time?"

"I had just woken up... I thought I had heard Hoshiko scream, it must've just been the residual of a nightmare though."

Diavolo frowned.

"I just wanted to check on Hoshiko without making it too obvious." Lucifer admitted, unable to look Diavolo in the eye.

Diavolo hummed thoughtfully and handed Lucifer his DDD.

Lucifer took it and slipped it back into his pocket.

Diavolo crossed his arms. "Are you worried about Hoshiko?"

Lucifer sighed and looked away from Diavolo. "I understand that I may be overreacting, but I just can't help it when I don't know exactly where Hoshiko is or what they're doing."

Diavolo shook his head. "You're all antsy today."

"All? Who do you mean by all?" Lucifer looked back at Diavolo.

"You and all of your brothers. I've seen most of them this morning and they all seemed out of sorts; none of them were acting like their usual selves."

Lucifer frowned. "That's not good."

"It's not, and I'm actually worried too."

"About my brothers or Hoshiko?" Lucifer asked for clarification.

"Well, both. But I meant Hoshiko. You see, I've got this..." He sighed and motioned to his chest with his hand, struggling to find the right words. "... Feeling. I woke up this morning and I thought Hoshiko had come down here..."

Lucifer paled. "Do you mean-?"

"Oh no, not like that," Diavolo assured. "But when Hoshiko and Solomon arrive, I know even before I'm told. I know when the angels come and go too. It's just part of being the crown prince."

Lucifer nodded. "I forget all the things you can do sometimes."

Diavolo nodded. "I just thought that Hoshiko had come to visit us but you've confirmed to me that they're still up in the mortal realm, as far as we know at least."

"So, what? Do you suspect that Solomon and Hoshiko have snuck down here and are plotting something?"

Diavolo shook his head. "I don't sense Solomon's presence, and Hoshiko isn't the scheming type."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "As far as you know."

Diavolo chuckled. "Anyway... I can't say for sure, but I have an uneasy feeling. I wonder if your nightmare was an omen of sorts."

Lucifer pressed his fingertips to his chin and furrowed his brow in thought. "Who could we talk to that would know about omens and dreams?"

"Your brother," Diavolo answered plainly.

"Satan?" He asked, barely hiding a grimace.

"Yes. There's no one who's as well read as he is, and he has some of the best grades in the entire school."

"Yes, I'm aware. However, it's still a habit to him to not fully cooperate with me."

"I'm sure his tune will change if we tell him it has to do with Hoshiko," Diavolo assured him.

Lucifer nodded with a sigh. "I don't want to tell him that we're worried about Hoshiko... but you're right, it may be the only sure way to get him to cooperate with me."

Diavolo nodded. "Let's go find him then."

They both left Diavolo's RAD office and went to the dining hall in search of the middle brother.

Satan was sitting at a corner table with a book in his hand as he ate.

Diavolo and Lucifer made a beeline for his table as soon as they spotted him.

Lucifer sat down right in front of Satan. "Hello, Satan."

Diavolo sat down next to Lucifer.

Satan sighed and sat up straight. "What do you want?"

"What do you know about omens and dreams?" Lucifer cut straight to the point.

Satan raised an eyebrow. "Dreams? Like, by way of divination?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Well, it's not exactly a reliable source of divination. Most people don't even know a dream they've had has foretold the future until said future has already happened."

Lucifer nodded. "Well what about omens?"

Satan narrowed his eyes, now suspicious. "Why are you asking me about this?"

Lucifer glanced at Diavolo.

Diavolo motioned for him to continue.

Lucifer sighed and looked back at Satan. When he spoke again in was in a hushed tone.

"I believe I had a nightmare, but all I remember is Hoshiko screaming my name."

Satan's expression was akin to a grimace, but still conveyed a feeling of concern. Satan matched his volume to Lucifer's. "And they sounded scared?"

"They sounded terrified, they were calling to me for help. And it sounded so clear, I thought Hoshiko was actually in my room this morning."

Satan frowned. "What if Hoshiko was actually trying to contact you?"

Lucifer tilted his head slightly. "Pardon?"

"There's an old spell that allows the user to communicate with an intended target via telepathy. It's not used much anymore because of the rise of technology though."

Lucifer frowned at the thought of Hoshiko trying to contact him and only being able to scream. "Does Hoshiko even know that spell?"

"You know there's only one person besides Hoshiko who knows the answer to that question," Satan told him smugly.

Lucifer pursed his lips, suddenly annoyed. "I suppose I'll go call Solomon then."

"You can use my office for privacy," Diavolo offered.

Lucifer looked at him and nodded. "Thank you." He stood up.

Satan and Diavolo stood up as well.

Lucifer headed back to Diavolo's office and Satan and Diavolo followed him.

Lucifer looked back at them. "Are you two going to follow me and listen in on my phone conversation?"

"It is my duty as crown prince to know about everything that transpires in my kingdom," Diavolo told him diplomatically.

"Your concerns now have me concerned about Hoshiko," Satan told him.

"Right..." Lucifer responded to them, not fully believing their intentions to be that pure.

They all went back to Diavolo's office where Lucifer called Solomon, much to his chagrin.

Solomon answered cheerfully. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Lucifer?"

"Hello Solomon," Lucifer greeted politely. "I was hoping for some information about Hoshiko's magical studies."

"Hmm, that depends on your exact question," Solomon answered cryptically.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Right. Well I know of a spell that allows the user to speak with another telepathically. I was just wondering if Hoshiko had been taught that spell."

"Ah, yes. I have taught them that. I thought it could be useful in case of emergencies. Why do you ask?"

"I believe that Hoshiko may have tried to contact me in that fashion early this morning."

Solomon immediately dropped his cheerful demeanor, and took on a far more serious tone. "What did they say?"

"Nothing specific I'm afraid; they called my name and were asking for help. It woke me from my sleep."

"I see." Then Solomon hung up.

Lucifer looked at his DDD when the line went dead and scowled. "Well that was barely helpful..."

"What?" Diavolo asked.

"He hung up on me," Lucifer told him.

"But does Hoshiko know that spell?" Satan asked Lucifer.

Lucifer nodded. "Solomon told me that he taught it to Hoshiko in case of emergencies."

Satan nodded. "So now we just need to figure out where Hoshiko is."

"I think Solomon would be the best person to assist with that task," Diavolo commented.

"Then why did he just hang up on me?" Lucifer asked, clearly annoyed.

"Perhaps he went to go check on Hoshiko himself," Diavolo suggested.

"It would be nice to know if he was," Lucifer huffed.

Diavolo opened his mouth to say something else but stopped, pursed his lips and looked toward the door.

Then Barbatos and Solomon both entered the office.

"That was quick," Diavolo told Solomon.

Solomon only nodded in response and then looked to Barbatos.

Diavolo looked at Barbatos as well, suddenly noticing how shaken he looked.

"Barbatos, what's wrong?" Diavolo asked, voice laced with empathy. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen Barbatos appear any way besides calm and collected.

Satan and Lucifer turned their attention to Barbatos as well, finally noticing what Diavolo had noticed.

Barbatos took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. "I apologize, my lords," he started, addressing all three of the demons present. "I just recently had the thought to check and see where Hoshiko was- is," he corrected himself. He looked Diavolo straight in the eyes. "Hoshiko is down here in the Devildom..."

"I knew it-" Diavolo interrupted, but Barbatos was quick to interrupt him in return.

"Diavolo," Barbatos spoke with urgency.

Diavolo was stunned silent, as far as he could remember, Barbatos hadn't called him by his first name since he was a young boy, and even those moments had been rare.

"Hoshiko was kidnapped and taken down to the eight circles," Barbatos told them all solemnly.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, shocked but otherwise unsure of how to react.

Diavolo crossed his arms and breathed deeply in a manner that commanded attention, and he got it from everyone in the room.

"Barbatos and I will travel to the eight circles to find and retrieve Hoshiko." He looked at Solomon. "While we are gone I want you to prepare every potion, salve, and tincture you know of that can heal physical wounds."

Solomon nodded. "I can do that. Where may I work?"

"You may work in the House of Lamentation, we generally keep supplies to create such potions," Lucifer told him.

"That will work," Diavolo approved. "Hoshiko will probably be most comfortable there anyways."

Lucifer nodded in agreement.

Diavolo looked at Satan. "You want to come with Barbatos and I, dont you?"

Satan nodded quickly, anxiety fueling his actions. "Yes, I do."

"You may go if, and only if, you can keep your temper in check. We are going there to retrieve Hoshiko, they are the priority."

"I understand. I can focus on that."

"Be sure that you do, I will not hesitate to send you back if you lose your cool," Diavolo warned.

Satan only nodded, understanding that the gravity of the situation didn't allow for any argument or mistakes.

Diavolo looked at Lucifer, an apologetic look suddenly painted his face.

Lucifer looked at him and frowned. "You don't want me to go," he said, seemingly having read Diavolo's mind.

Diavolo shook his head. "I need you to prepare your brothers for how Hoshiko may return and to keep them from following after us. They're too reckless to allow them all to go down there when Hoshiko is involved."

Lucifer nodded. "I understand completely, I will do that."

Diavolo gripped Lucifer's shoulder. "Thank you. I greatly appreciate it."

Lucifer nodded.

Diavolo looked at Barbatos and Satan. "Alright, let's get going."

"Ah, wait!" Solomon asked as he pulled off his cloak.

Everyone looked at him.

Solomon closed his eyes and whispered an enchantment into the folds of his cloak, then looked at Barbatos and handed it off to him. "When you find Hoshiko, wrap them in this. It might not help much to shield their psyche from... down there, but it should help."

Barbatos nodded as he took the cloak. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Solomon," Diavolo told him. He looked at Satan and Barbatos again. "Let's go."

They nodded and left with Diavolo.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #my obey me mc #hoshiko higure #obey me Satan #obey me Solomon #obey me Barbatos #obey me fanfic #my work #my writing

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wickedpact · 3 years

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A ranking of all the TTT stories in order of how much I liked them.

(Oh god this is so long)

1 My Mother's Axe

BABY ANDYYYYYYYYYYYY. Honestly this one had the trifecta of developing a character's motivations, developing a character's backstory, & developing their personality. The story starting out with Andy teaching Nile to use the axe was so charming and fun, and you could feel that chemistry they had in Opening Fire, the way they teased and bickered with each other so naturally. I loved the wedge between them on the subject of the axe, how Nile was perhaps a little too young to understand Andy's feelings about whether or not its the 'same' axe. I also love how the axe is obviously the symbol of the franchise and hugely important, but you never get a sense of exactly how important it is to Andy until you read the story.

I love the entire Ship of Theseus theme, and how it feels so natural that for Andy she has to get attached to the idea of things rather than the things themselves because she'll always outlive the things themselves-- the axe is symbolically her mom's axe, even if physically it isn't. And I love how she clearly clings to that concept so tightly. "This is the labrys she held in her hands...." IT GETS ME.

And the fact that this sense of BELONGING, of FAMILY, of CULTURE is so important to Andy that she clings to it (figuratively and literally) with both hands. And of course it's important to her, she spent so long alone that the woman doesn't even remember her birth name. That axe (or the idea of that axe) is all she has left of her mother and that family/culture she was born into.

PLUS on that note I love how Andy doesn't remember if her mom was her actual biological mother, but it doesn't matter to her. This woman was her mother in all the ways that counted. And how her mom BETRAYED AND KILLED Andy but Andy loved her so much that she avenged her and carried her axe for thousands of years. THOUSANDS OF YEARS!!!!!!

I also loved how the story transcends the timeline of the whole franchise and seeing Andy through the years. Loved seeing her with the varying squads and with varying axes. Also baby Andy was so cute. It was cool seeing her so young. like holy fuck. Andromache The Scythian, Immortal Warrior (but smol). Love that.

Also I think this one is one of the few ttt stories that doesn't suffer from length problems.

tldr: goddammit greg you've done it again.

2 Zanzibar and Other Harbors

Zanzibar my beloved. I've said before, but it's downright comedic how little regard there was for Joe and Nicky's character designs in this story. The same person who does the colors for the regular comic did the colors for this one too, and you can tell, every panel of this story was Beautiful.

Ik there was A Lot of criticism of this one (lmao @ how the fandom had no idea what was to come) but I thought a lot of The Discourse was a bit dramatic. I did think Nicky came off as a little oblivious to Joe's feelings in this story, but I've said before, I honestly think that was a 'tone not translating' thing. It felt like Nicky was nagging Joe for [checks notes] saving innocent people, but Joe was so amused by Nicky's complaints I really do think it was supposed to come off as teasing.

Plus I know the 'Joe running off into danger and Nicky reluctantly following' dynamic wasn't popular (I'm a pretty meh on it meself) but I did love how Joe's impulsiveness (if you want to call it that) was interpreted as heroism and not hot-hotheadedness. All of the examples Nicky and Joe talked about included Joe explicitly saving people. (and it also took A Lot for the nazi to actually provoke Joe).

I also feel like their characterization here was closest to the movie canon-- the bit where they hear the woman scream and Joe goes running in to save her while Nicky swoops in on Joe's heels to comfort her while Joe and the nazi were fighting reminds me of the train car scene. Joe had suggested First that they go find Nile because she needed to be protected, and Nicky later added that Nile probably also needed emotional support. Similar reactions.

But it was So Good, the themes of queer community and the enduring nature of queer culture are Not themes you see in media that often and it was such a delight how it was done. Also it's one of the few more modern TTT stories that has a completely valid excuse for taking place when it did. Chef's kiss.

3 Passchendaele

I love the Duality between seeing baby Andy and then seeing Mama Andy in the very next issue. This story doesn't have a ton of meat to it, but the entire concept of Andy adopting a war orphan straight off the battlefield PLUCKS MY TENDER LITTLE HEARTSTRINGS, and I think it's especially poignant for comic!Andy. I think most people wouldn't think twice about movie!Andy doing something like that but comic Andy is so hardened and almost cruel sometimes, and seeing that even for her the world hasn't beaten all of the compassion from her yet is SO!!!!!!! this woman contains MULTITUDES okay, she's violent and angry and tired and Done but she's also so kind and compassionate and THE STRENGTH OF HER!!!!! Also the idea of her and Yitzhak co-raising a kid together is so damn cute. It was #mysterious pre-Yitzhak-story but now it's cute. holy fuck. It's cute.

& the headbonk panel of her and Zeus lives in my heart. anyways.

4 Many Happy Returns

I Know people weren't thrilled about Booker being in this one, but I've developed a pet-peeve about that: this story was *not* booker-centric. Booker only exists in this story to the extent required to explain the importance of the gesture Nile makes towards him. If there was a story about Booker making some grand gesture of kindness to Nile no one would be saying it was Nile-centric. bc it wouldn't be! Booker exists in this story to explore Nile's kindness, its not about him. I saw that a couple times and it bothered me. anyways.

AAAAAAAAAA I loved this one, the art was beautiful, I loved how Andy Nile and Booker were drawn (like their comic selves but.. more looking like actual people). I loved Andy and Nile's Bants, how Andy wanted to jump right in and Do Violence but Nile was basically telling her to hold her horses.

I feel like I'm just repeating the post I made on this story a few days ago, but I LOVED how Nile's plan revolves not around violence or Cool Mercenary Skills but on Nile's own life skills (as she canonly did a lot of minimum wage job-hopping before the marines in comics canon). Her plan used her skills, not the skills of an immortal warrior, and HER SKILLS were in fact more useful for the situation! lov to see Nile's resourcefulness and planning skills.

AND HOW NILE WAS PROBABLY WATCHING BOOKER??? it's so Much bc 1.) nile knew booker A SINGLE DAY and yet he made such an impression on her emotionally that she had to keep an eye on him and 2.) she said in the movie she wanted Booker to get off free with an apology. Yes she's a member of the team but that doesn't mean she's necessarily going to follow orders like a good little soldier. I also love how she convinced Andy to go along with it. her HEART, her KINDNESS, her THOUGHTFULNESS, UGH.

5 The Bear

Honestly I have like no negative things to say about this one other than a.) character design issues which is less about the story itself and is more of a 'tog comic in general' criticism and b.) too short, but it was supposed to be a tease, so.

But I loved Yitzhak, I wasn't expecting to really like him at all but like I said in my other post, he tickled me. I love characters who are Kind™, especially if they have little reason to be so given their backgrounds. Chef's kiss. Lov him.

6 Bonsai Shokunin

I know this one was a little controversial bc of the outsider POV but whenever I see people upset about that they never point out that the Outsider Guy (the samurai) existed as a reflection on Noriko. His ideas are explained in the text to develop hers. The whole story follows how she gave mercy to a scared young man and in response he murdered Noriko, repeatedly! Who gave him the right to inflict such pain and suffering on the world? In his opinion, the lack of response from the gods was his permission. And for Noriko-- over and over again she dies and suffers because she gave mercy, which lines up with her ideas in FM about how it's their fate to rule mortals and if they don't align with that plan/fate/whatever then they suffer. It shows some background to those ideas and how they developed in her mind outside of Ocean Madness™. Additionally, his idea of 'the Gods have done nothing to strike me down so it's fine if I do these things' kind of explains how Noriko may justify her own morally corrupt actions-- she's died so many times and it's never stuck. Maybe if she did die any of those times, or while she was in the water, maybe that would've been a sign she was doing something right, or at least doing something normal. But she hasn't died. Fate isn't done with Noriko yet. And maybe there's a reason for that. In her mind, it's just not a very pleasant reason, is all.

There were things I was kind of meh about tho. I did kind of wish we saw something of Noriko and the team, or smth explaining the way she was before her dip in the pool-- personality, likes dislikes, etc. but it wasn't bad or anything. It was super vague tho, I had to read it a few times before I got what it was going for. Liked the art. Liked the bonsai metaphor. And of course I Respect the decision to use the 1300s (1200s? I don't remember off the top of my head) rather than using the last 200 years.

7 Strong Medicine

Honestly looking back, this one made me kind of sad because both this one and Bonsai Shokunin explored character's ideas on Fate and The Divine and how that intersects with immortality and I totally thought that theme would be continued, especially with Love Letters. But Then It Wasn't™.

Admittedly.... I had to re-read this one to remember most of it. I liked Booker's ideas on God, 'The conductor of the symphony just may not be very good at his trade' but the plot itself was kind of forgettable. Some fuckin cowboys try to kill a doctor (their second) because he couldn't save their sickly brother. Book tries to stop them, gets killed, and then comes back and kills them all before they get the doctor. Alright. I liked the artstyle because the characters were ugly in a similar way that leandro's are, but way more bearable.

I love the Irony of Booker concluding that there is no such thing as fate or destiny and nothing has meaning, AS HE UNKNOWINGLY SAVES MERRICK'S GRANDFATHER FROM BEING KILLED. Booker getting fucked over by life/god/destiny yet again. It also kind of explains about where the fuck hell Merrick's interest in immortal mercenaries even came from.

I originally had this one a lot higher and then I thought about it and moved it down like two spots.

8 Never Gets Old

I liked seeing Booker interact with his kid. And we got a name for the kid! Philippe was a little bitch though, he was a little obnoxious. I liked how Booker was so thrilled to experience a restaurant with his kid (and since we know he was there before, it can be assumed he went with all of his kids and yet he was so charmed each time). It fits with his line to Nicky in the moon landing story about how you don't appreciate beautiful things 'unless you have someone to share them with'. It was charming to see Booker interact with his kid, and to see him so happy. Also lmao @ Booker's big fat Ye Olde Crush on Andy.

However at the same time it was like.. of all the things to write about,,, I guess? Booker's Night Out...... alright. Especially since Book had so many stories.

I don't know, it was alright. The old man killing him really came out of nowhere, (but the 'Salut, asshole!' panel was funny tho).

9 How To Make a Ghost Town

I've hit a point where talking about these stories has gotten less fun. I liked this one but I felt like Achilles getting lynched was not really necessary for a story that was already tragic (a story that already involved Achilles doing a lot of suffering at the hand of bigots). When we first got the blurb for this story I thought it would be about Andy returning to the squad and making friends with Booker after losing Achilles and them butting heads on the idea of family and when to cut off ties. So a little bit of my underwhelmedness about this one might be just my expectations being different.

Honestly I was pretty interested in Andy and Achilles' relationship and I would've liked to see more of them-- like, what was their dynamic like? What did they love about each other?

But anyways Andy leaving and Achilles getting killed anyways feels so pointlessly tragic (which I suppose is the point..... I don't like tragedies) she left to save him and yet people killed him anyway. Meh.

I did love the bits about Andy wanting to have a domestic life (Andy and her multitudes again) and the little detail about how she buried her axe near the road but he buried his guns under his bed-- he was an escaped slave, he never had the luxury of assuredness like Andy did. It was a sad story.

10 Lacus Solitudinis

'You put this one above love letters crim??? how could you???' easy, lmao.

There was stuff in this one I liked. But to talk about stuff I didn't like: (I'll keep it brief, I know ragging on this story has been done time and time again)

UH, setting aside the 6 year cold shoulder between Joe and Nicky, I thought their chosen method of conflict resolution was... bad at best. Nicky's inability to talk about his feelings was also annoying, especially since the entire point of this story is a fight Joe and Nicky had, and yet we don't get both sides to the story, which is...... important? That fact is especially annoying bc in the absence of Nicky explaining his side of the story, it's absolutely a possible (and admittedly probably unintentional) interpretation of the text that we do get that Joe routinely resolves conflict between him and Nicky by simply cutting Nicky out of his life entirely until Nicky just. caves? Even if it takes years?

WHICH i could get into that interpretation and how fucked up i find it. but im not going to. out of restraint.

I don't know, I think there are a lot of interesting ways to go about this conflict but 'Nicky wants to kill a guy and Joe refuses to acknowledge his existence until he stops because he thinks Nicky is too much of a Good Boy to get his hands dirty like that' ('I wont watch as the world turns his (...) compassion into something ugly'. ) wasn't.. how I would've done it. (I mean you know Joe doesn't give a shit about what Nicky is doing in a moral way, because Joe doesn't even care or mention that Booker is killing those cops too. Joe only cares because he doesn't like the idea of Nicky changing in a way he finds undesirable.)

admittedly I've said before, I do like the emphasis Joe's reaction puts on Nicky's kindness. Joe has a complete inability to cope with Nicky simply Not Being Kind. It speaks to the steadiness of Nicky's compassion all those years. but still that fact doesn't make it the conflict feel worth it

hm. I said I would be brief and I wasn't.

oh well. basically I thought there was interesting conflict potential there but it wasn't done the way I would've liked, and the way it was done leaves a lot of disturbing (and again probably unintended) interpretations to lie.

What I did like? Andy and Joe having that pessimist/optimist dynamic. Joe nerding out about science. Andy not being impressed by The Achievements Of Man. I loved Booker needling at Nicky about his outdated slang and also trying to give him Older Brother advice practically in the same breath. I loved Booker giving The Worst relationship advice ever and Nicky being like 'I Will Not Do That, Ever, Thanks.' the family vibes were so good. The Joenicky vibes left a lot to be desired tho.

11 Love Letters

I talked about my problems with Nicky in this story (and Lacus Solitudinis). I don't know, the story isn't bad but I do hold a little bit of a grudge towards it because its very existence begs the existence of a solo Joe story and we didn't get one. If we never got this story, then we could happily count Lacus Solitudinis and Zanzibar as The Joenicky Stories™ and move on with our lives. sigh.

I remember when we first got the blurb for this story I was really curious about why Nicky specifically + the setting, and the answer kind of feels like 'the author had an idea for a story like this and saw ttt as a good enough place to utilize that idea'. Plus I was really underwhelmed by the Romantic Sentiment in the letter. If you look at it line-by-line, the majority of the letter is actually Nicky talking about how lonely and disturbed he is, rather than actual,, yknow,,, Romantic Sentiment. I mean, compare the van speech and this letter and this letter is just kind of meh in comparison. I liked nicky calling joe wise! and I liked the brief sun/moon metaphor! and otherwise it was eh. It didn't even have cute squad banter, which is why Lacus Solitudinis is above this one.

12 An Old Soul

Nun orgy. Nun orgy?????? Nun orgy.......

The whole story felt like a setup to have a nun orgy. Why did Booker have abs? Why did they do that to Andy's nose? ?????? the art was good at least.

nun orgy.

#tales through time spoilers #obviously #long post #seriously dont open that read more unless youre committed to scrolling past all these Words

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angel-fire · 5 years

Text

set my soul alight

summary: loki finally has you right where he wants you.

warnings: slight dubcon, very very nsfw. knife play, enemies to lovers because if you’ve ever spoken to me you know i’m about that shit. as always, don’t read if you’re under 18.

A/N: okay this is like... almost pure filth i don't even know what to say. but in honor of no nut november being over imma share what i finished writing the second i had an orgasm for the first time in a month. title from supermassive black hole (yes the one from twilight!!)

---

You’ve done plenty of stupid things in your life. Chasing whiskey with wine coolers, texting back people you probably should have blocked – deciding that yes, working alongside the Avengers seemed like a perfectly reasonable career path for the rest of your life.

You could deal with the spies, the weapons dealers, the abandoned Hydra bases you’d raided for intel from time to time. You’d made peace with the fact that at any moment, you could be summoned for a mission you wouldn’t return from. And, well, it’s hard to regret your decision when it’s more than just walking the line between life and death. It’s the bonds you make with your teammates, the lifelong friendships you know will last with people that leap into the abyss right alongside you.

Oslo, Norway. It was supposed to be simple. You weren’t supposed to get caught. Taken. The question of how you got here is unnecessary, simply chalking it up to just another ill-advised decision you’d make in your life. If it lasts.

The God of Mischief stands before you, clear blue eyes raking over your bound form as he observes you. Your wrists are tied up above your head by what feels like silk, your ankles tied with the same material, bound to what feels like a post attached to a wooden beam. You’re upright, head lolling around on your shoulders as you rouse into consciousness. You become extremely aware of the fact that you’re still in the jeans and top you were wearing while you were supposed to be undercover earlier. Undetectable. So much for that.

“You’re awake.” Loki remarks, taking a calculated step towards you. No shit, you think. You drink him in, clad in an all black suit with his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He’s still disarmingly attractive, which is an in-fucking-convenient thought for you to be having considering he’d kidnapped you about – from what you can assume by the absent sun outside the window to your left – one or two hours ago. “Good. I’ve missed you, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you mumble, tired limbs struggling against your bindings in a futile attempt to free yourself. At least it isn’t rope, you muse. Being tied up with thick ropes and subsequently tased until your bones rattled under your skin had been the least fun you’d had six months ago in Venice. The most fun… well. That’d been involving the god before you, teasing him into a frenzy ending in a hushed whisper of salacious promises detailing the things he would do to you if he got you alone. You suppose decision making is definitely not your strength, because after you’d rebuked his filthy whispers with a mere smirk accompanied by a wink, you expected that to be the end of it. Flirting with the enemy can only get you so far.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that day?” Loki inquires, ignoring your question entirely. “When you’d begged so sweetly into my ear for me to fuck you, to take you in the most filthiest of ways? I’ll admit, you rendered me speechless.” He chuckles to himself at the memory as your face flushes.

“I was not begging, and I didn’t mean it,” you respond automatically, the lie tasting like ash as it slips off your tongue. Loki only smirks, making you internally cringe at yourself. No matter how good a liar you might be to any other enemy, your teammates, your friends - you knew you couldn’t lie to him. Not to the God of Mischief.

He’s not just your enemy, a small part of you whispers. You shove the thoughts down before they can gain any traction.

“I should punish you for trying to lie to me,” he glides closer to you, eyes trained on your heaving chest at having him in such close proximity. “Shouldn’t I?”

There’s an unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed, your eyes flicking down to his right hand and widening when he produces a dagger from his wrist. It’s long, sharp, the light of the moon reflecting along its blade as it glints at you. You shudder instinctively, fear and arousal licking up your spine the longer your stare lingers on it.

“You were always my favorite,” Loki muses, standing a breath away from you as he draws the knife closer and closer to your body. “So headstrong. Unbreakable. I do look forward to seeing you fall apart for me.”

“Fuck off, Loki,” you snap, pulling against the silk ties at your wrists once more, realizing that they’ve likely been spelled to stay put. You would have been able to break free by now if they weren’t. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. “I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, I know it,” he chuckles darkly. “I can practically smell your fear. The way your body responds so deliciously to it. You’re dripping in spite of it, because of it. And if I did this-“ he raises the sharp edge of the knife up to the base of your throat, dragging it across the length of your clavicle to where it meets your shoulder. You shiver in anticipation, toes curling, and his eyes flash. “-you wouldn’t be able to hide just how much it excites you.”

“Shut up,” You gasp, watching the tip of the blade travel over your shoulder and, with a quick maneuver of Loki’s wrist, tear through the fabric of your top. “God, Loki, what the fuck?”

“Don’t act like you’re not aroused by the feeling of the steel against your skin alone,” he counters, dragging the blade clean through your top all the way down to its hem, effectively exposing your left side. “Knowing I could hurt you so easily if I applied just-“ he presses the knife’s tip into the delicate skin of covering your rib cage ever so slightly, drawing a shaky breath from you as you feel the rush of arousal flood between your legs. “-the right amount of pressure. Your body betrays you, little mortal.”

“You’re sadistic.” You breathe, unable to deny the urge to clench your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“Maybe,” Loki simply chuckles, pulling the knife away from you and flipping it between his nimble fingers in a way that makes your eyelids flutter and your heart race. His left hand travels up your other side, drawing your top above your breasts, gathering the material in his hand as he yanks you close. “But you love it, don’t you?”

You have no time to answer before his lips connect with yours, teeth biting at your lips and tongue curling around yours as you gasp into his mouth. The taste of his tongue sends you into a tailspin, wrists straining not just to escape, but to bury themselves into his raven hair and drag him closer. You chastise yourself for feeling this way, but when Loki pulls away and promptly lowers to his knees before you, your mind goes blank.

“Fuck,” you whisper, watching with wide eyes as he takes his knife and cuts straight through your flimsy jeans, waistline to ankle. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you tremble in excitement ever so slightly, but when you hear him hum quietly in approval, you realize it’s useless to try to hide it from him. Well, he is a god, you muse.

“There it is,” he murmurs, lithe fingers teasing at your skin as he cuts your jeans completely off of you, tossing the remaining scraps of it somewhere to his left. “You’re lovely when you give in, darling.”

“I won’t, you bastard,” you curse, shutting your eyes tightly and tilting your head back in an effort to delay the inevitable.

“You will.” He promises, and you feel the tip of the blade dance up your ankle, over your knee, pausing at your thigh as he brings it inwards towards your femoral artery, before passing over the crevice between where your thigh meets your sex to play at your hip bone. Loki lightly traces indiscernible patterns along your skin with the knife, and your spine alights with pleasure as heat builds in your core. He’s teasing, building up to something else, and you know it by the way he growls as he senses you becoming more and more aroused by the second, trading the knife for both his hands as he pries your thighs apart as far as they can go in your position. Your eyes snap open at the feeling of his hands on you, so close to where you want him, so close to where he’s very capable of making you give in.

The last coherent thought you have is about how you can no longer feel the tightness of silk binding your ankles, but the last thing you feel is Loki’s dark chuckle against your thigh before he dives in.

His tongue plunges deep into your pussy, lithe digits holding you open for him as your thighs shake and your legs ache to be released, to wrap around his head and squeeze in retaliation for this assault of pleasure. He pulls away just enough to raise his dark eyes up to yours, a sly grin dancing across his lips.

“Oh, Agent... Your cunt tastes absolutely divine.” Loki purrs, long tongue flicking out of his mouth to catch your essence spread across his lips. No sooner after, he dives back in, the wet muscle of his tongue flicking against your clit and urging your hips to arch into his mouth. He drinks from you voraciously, hungrily, a man starved of touch for so long that he can’t get enough when he finally has it.

“I wonder if your precious Avengers know just how sweetly you moan for their enemy,” he coos into your thigh as he takes a moment’s pause. “I wonder if maybe I should make them watch, next time. Watch you come apart at my touch, my tongue.”

The feral expression on his face as he devours you combined with the sounds of your slick heat between your legs in response to his ministrations causes you to let out a high pitched moan, jerking your hips wildly, to which Loki simply buries his face further into your folds. He wrenches your thighs even further apart and wraps your legs around his neck, ankles crossed between his shoulder blades as you clench around his tongue while his hands press bruises into your thighs. You’re helpless in resisting, taut body tensing above him as you hurtle towards your peak at an alarming rate.

“I feel you holding back, darling,” he murmurs against you, the rumble of his voice rippling through you like an electric shock. You let out a gasp when he inserts a long finger up and into you, making you tremble with delirious pleasure as you give another sharp moan. “Let go for me. Give in. Let me make you come.”

You squeak when he pushes another finger into your wet heat, stretching you open as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, your body unable to hold your release in any longer as you come apart in a wave of unbridled passion. You’re nearly bent backwards in half, Loki’s arms holding you up by your quivering thighs as you come into his mouth. He laps at you greedily, emitting growls that reverberate against your pussy, drawing whimpering moans from you when it only seems to prolong your orgasm. You’re lost in rapture, hands grasping for something to hold onto in an attempt to stay grounded but coming up with nothing but cold air and the sensation of silk on your wrists.

Loki’s already gazing up at you with darkened eyes, fingers lazily pumping in and out of you as you come down from your high. “Feel good, do you? You sang so beautifully for me, little mortal.”

You huff indignantly, narrowed eyes lowering to meet his blown pupils that surely mirror your own. “Don’t think this means anything.”

“It’s valiant of you to believe you aren’t already mine.” Loki hisses, dragging his fingers out of you and, as he rises from his feet, abruptly shoving them into your mouth. You inhale sharply around his fingers, the taste of yourself on your tongue jarring and intensified by his face nearing yours once more. Your eyes lock, and the challenge in his stare nearly makes you submit completely. Nearly.

Eyes still trained on his, you throw him a salacious wink before circling your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking them into your mouth as you watch his stare grow darker and his breathing become heavier.

“Oh,” Loki rasps, voice thick with arousal. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

Abruptly once more, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and winks in retaliation as he licks the rest of you off himself, humming in delight as he tastes the mix of your cum and saliva on his tongue. With the same hand, he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back to look up at him. A pang of arousal shoots through you and you let out a quiet whimper, Loki’s breath fanning across your face as his eyes scan your features.

“You want it, don’t you?” He beckons in a low voice, removing his hand from your hair to grip your jaw with bruising pressure. “You want my cock so deep in you that you see stars.”

With your breath trembling, you mutter what you hope comes off as an affirmation in a moment of pleasure-induced weakness. You take his satisfied smirk as confirmation that it did.

“Now,” he purrs into your ear, lips tracing down the length of your jawline and up to your mouth. You’re shaking with it, this need that could only be sated by his touch and his alone. “Are you mine?”

You’re breathless, aching for more – of his tongue, his lips, his cock. You manage to shoot him a sly smirk of your own, craning your neck towards him to whisper in his ear. You know the answer, and he knows it too, but you don’t pass up an opportunity to make just one more ill-advised decision.

“Why don’t you untie me and find out?”

#marvel fanfic #marvel smut #loki laufeyson #loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #okay if this is terrible im sorry ksldflsdk #kva writes

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Note

a hc of bucky x reader inspired by bella and edward? vampire!bucky and human!reader would be interesting 👀

i was just watching twilight when this request was sent over to me 👀 also yeah i am now finally not ashamed to say that i like twilight, yes it cheesy yes it makes zero sense but hey its called comfort, its called relief and it only took me what 7 years to admit it also yes steve is the creator of this coven

bucky had learned to live with what he was long after steve had turned him. he knew he had done it out of necessity and because he had no other choice but sometimes he wondered if it would’ve been better to have died than to have been living this long.

steve would often joke that he was pretty young compared to other vampires yet nevertheless nothing else surprised him anymore. things were always the same just with different facades.

overtime the coven had grown from just two scrappy kids from brooklyn to other members who had been “saved” by steve and other vampires searching for a safe haven from other covens.

things were calm until billionaire philanthropist tony stark joined the coven then suddenly they were public figures known for throwing charity parties and being themselves sometimes heads of a handful charities

bucky found it all too cynical and would often voice his disgust over them who all at the time had hurt or killed a mortal to put this charitable facade

nevertheless his opinion was not popular and even natasha who tended to be as cynical about their nature as he was didn’t agree with his views on their work

maybe he wouldn’t dislike it so much if he didn’t have to be dragged down to a charity donation ball almost every sunday yet there he was; dressed in one of his best tuxes, leather gloves on and a scowl on his face

“wear gloves, people will be less freaked out” tony had told him the first ball they attended. his metal arm was the least of worries of any mortal who came in contact with him but what could he say?

he leaned against one of the room’s walls, champagne glass in one hand as he scanned through the room. there were always the same people, same tuxes, same music except for tonight when he noticed a woman enter the room by her lonesome dressed in a baby pink satin gown, hands in front of her torso holding a white satin bag and shoulders slightly hunched as if she was trying to blend into the sea of donors.

he moved from his wall, keeping his distance, but following her across the room until she stopped at the bar, requesting for some fancy drink whose name bucky didn’t recognise.

god he could hear it, he could hear her breathing, her heart beating, her blood running through her veins. he could hear everything and for the first time in years, it was making his predator nature run wild with wanton.

“found yourself a snack, cyborg brain?” sam interrupted his chain of thought, situation himself by his side “steve said no snacking on mortal donors” “i thought the rules were don’t snack on mortals” “well if the ladies ask ... how can i deny them?” “do you know her?” “no but i sure would love to” “back off” “stacking a claim on her?” “you have enough ladies in your arm today to swindle” “and i should be with them but instead i’m babysitting you” “i don’t need babysitting” “if you say so, man. just don’t make a mess of this evening”

bucky rolled his eyes at sam, returning his gaze to her to notice tony stark had gotten to her. of course.

“ah barnes” tony approached him with the baby pink dress woman by his arm “this is miss y/n, she’s the assistant of one of our biggest donors who sadly is very sick tonight” “pleasure” “why don’t you tell her about our charity’s new initiatives?”

bucky knew what he was doing, tony always did it. pairing any woman donors with the men from the coven to try and get as much money from them as they could

“you needn’t bother. my boss is gonna donate anyway” “straight to the point” “i think you do a beautiful job. i checked how much of the donations you keep and you don’t keep any percentage of it” “isn’t that the point” “you’d be surprised, mr. barnes” “oh please don’t call me mr. barnes” “what should i call you then” “bucky” “then you should call me y/n”

bucky told himself he’d get over his pesky feelings but when on a tour of the new laboratory facilities there she was again in office clothing, by the side of a much older woman

once she saw him she rushed to embrace him taking him by surprise. bucky wasn’t touched that often, not by mortals not by even elements of his coven. some would say he was touch starved and maybe he was but her being in his arms right now wasn’t safe

he could smell her, smell her blood, rushing warm through her veins masked by the scent of her perfume. god why did she even wear that thing? her smell was divine and his control was wavering

“god, doll, you smell divine” “uh ... thank you?” “your perfume is rly good” “oh thank you” “what are you doing here, doll?” “boss came to see the new lab your charity paid for. i tagged along” “interested in laboratories?” “yes i wanna be a researcher but first you gotta get connections and i’m fresh out of university without any” “so you decided to become a PA?” “her last PA went on to become a research fellow at a top university” “sounds like a plan” “listen, i haven’t had breakfast yet and there’s this lovely cafe nearby. maybe we can grab some food” “no, i’m good” “oh”

“buck, you turned down her date invite?” “she has blood running in her veins” “so does sharon” “sharon is different.” “go out with her, c’mon, what’s the worse that could happen?” “i could kill her” “cmon buck, you have restraint around humans” “not her, she ... god steve she smells delicious. can’t you smell it?” “no. i think you’re overthinking it”

bucky watched her from afar until she caught him “you’re staring” “i wanted to apologise. i believe i was rude.” “it’s okay to say no” “you’re just very enticing to me, dollface” “maybe dinner?” “you pick” “i will text you”

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan

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obutsuwrites · 4 years

Text

Gods & Monsters (mirio x reader)

Summary: Calloused fingers pinched coral cheeks. Hot breath vanished in her chest. Oxygen-starved lungs heaving into the night. “I think for such a divine right… you can offer me your body!” Mirio’s eyes beamed, passion radiating from him.

word count: 3,215 xxx basically, smutty deity!mirio x reader meme i originally posted on ao3

i also take requests so hit my askbox~!

my ao3 4 more shitposts

She had traveled through this swamp only once before. The bog was foreign; humid musk mixed with flora assaulted her senses. It was exhilarating. Exploring such alien terrain was a mere fantasy. She knew the marsh was off limits.

"Honey, I know you wanna explore, but I need you here,” Grandpa said, his voice cracking. Even his voice was aging.

She lowered her head, realizing how absurd it was. Grandpa was steadfast in his faith. The swamp was dangerous. “Monster’s live in these marshes.”

She knew monsters didn’t exist anymore. No sighting in decades. No heroic tales of glory. No reason to not explore the marsh. Besides, the swamp offered a shortcut home. The humid bog sat on the brink of their farmland. Coming home meant circling to avoid the swamp like a fool. She had the beating heart of a lion.

It was autumn, trees had begun to shed their vivid displays of color for the muted palette of autumn. Bog ground had softened. The air was crisp, her breath easily visible. The harsh, muggy marsh was almost scenic, she thought. Maybe a painting.

A small click quietly echoed through the air. Bringing a camera was a good idea. The frigid evening had produced tranquility in the swamp. Her quiet breath and occasional sounds of nature permeating.

She relaxed, examining the photo with keen eyes.

The evening sky had exploded into delicate pastels of purple. Tiny novas. She needed to finish up, she was expected home soon. The swamp gained magic at night, her Grandpa would say. Whatever. The trek home would simply be impossible in such a low light, old man. Soft feet crunched lifeless leaves, stumbling in weak evening light. Fuck, fuck fuck. Staying so late was fucking stubborn. Fucking stupid. Monsters didn’t exist, but Grandpa sure as fuck did. The geezer was going to have an absolute field day. Staying late, fucking around in the monster-infested swamp? What the fuck were you thinking?

“I don’t know,” she muttered, stopping to catch her breath. Sweat had pooled at her temples. Warmth had spread to her flushed cheeks. Periwinkle orbs.

In the corner of her eyes was a flash. A flash in the twilight of the bog. Maybe her Grandpa had found her!

“Hey! Grandpa, I’m right here!” She called, a rush of oxygen crashing into her starving lungs. Quickly, she scrambled to follow the twinkle in the marsh. Her salvation. She stopped, her lungs craving air. Any trace of the sun had been eradicated by the moon. The gleam of light was irradient. She knew it wasn’t Grandpa. Why would he search the swamp? The old man could hardly walk now. It was a silly notion, she’d realized. Despite this, she continued to chase the alluring glow. It was attracting her. Calling her.

“You’re cute like this.” The disembodied voice was bubbly and masculine.

Her breath caught in her throat, dread pitting into her stomach. Adrenaline flooded her anatomy. Goosebumps emerging on supple flesh. “Wh-who are you? Come out!” Her words were rubbery, slipping out in a meek stutter.

The beam was flashing now; alabaster beams radiating. A simple flash. Before her now was no longer a galaxy of glow. Before her now was a man. He stood bare, sun-kissed skin blemished by maimed flesh. A nebula of stars had exploded across his arms. His posture was proud, muscles quivering and contracting in the chill. His flaxen hair shimmered in the moonlight. He was a deity to be worshiped.

A squeal burst from her. Oh my fucking god. He’s fucking naked! She had never seen a man like this. Manhood exposed.

Instinctively, meek hands rushed to cover her eyes. This materialized god was shameless. He made no attempt to cover his nether regions. She felt as if she would implode, steam rising to her rosy cheeks.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Tender, calloused hands gingerly gripped her wrists. “Up close, you’re beautiful!” he beamed, his voice reverberating from his athletic chest. Delicately, he removed the hands from her eyes. His embrace was gentle. Almost as if he’d never touched such soft skin before. Sculpted fingertips lingered on her flesh.

Being this close to a man was unfamiliar. His warm breath was fanning her cheeks in waves. He was too close. The heat from his body deepened her crimson flush. Virgin eyes examined him, a pit of wanting in her chest. He caught her gaze. Perfect orbs of cerulean engulfing her. She was staring.

“Do you enjoy looking at me?” he asked, his voice carrying innocent verve. “I like looking at you.” His tone dropped, a lustful undertone hanging.

Quickly, she snaked out of his grasp. Had this mountain man been following her? Shameful eyes abruptly averted, staring holes into the frozen ground. This Adonis of a man was abnormal. He simply manifested in the lights. The act seemed so commonplace to him. Was… was he a monster from the marsh?

“W-what are you?” The words tumbled out, anxiety slurring her speech. She felt blood coursing through the irregular beating of her heart. The sound was a constant in the bog.

A modest smile formed on his handsome features. “I live here.”

She shifted, the bare man before her obvious to her discomfort. Suddenly, his hands wrapped around her, the sweltering heat from his body consuming her. Flesh marred from battle, fitting against virgin skin. An aroma of mint and earth seeped into her senses. His scent was intoxicating. Her mind muddled by his presence.

He pulled their bodies close, a heated face colliding with his cicatrix chest. “I’m sorry! You guys haven’t seen me for decades, huh?” A hearty chuckle vibrated into her hair. He felt like a fever dream. Sultry and almost intangible.

“Seen you?” Monsters live in these marshes.

Monsters. A defining feature was their grotesque appearance. Their tyrannical, boorish nature. The lack of divinity. This man certainly wasn’t the phantom of monsters. No. He was a god. His existence triumphed the sun.

“Yeah! A swamp spirit? Oh, I know! A naiad?”

Naiad. Tales of old had started it. Her curiosity into monsters.

Aged books sat in various positions of disarray around Grandpa’s office. She had raced to the library, her arms carrying ancient texts of gods and monsters.

“Hey Grandpa! Oh my gosh, can you believe deities used to exist? The same as monsters?!” Her voice had ascended in pitch, a passive squeak escaping.

Grandpa leaned against the door frame, his posture suffering from age. A brief expression of shock jolted through his commonly stoic features. “Never told you about the naiad. They’re like monsters, little one. But… different. Holy. We used to worship them. Folks would travel hundreds of miles simply to leave a gift and pray.”

The first time Grandpa smiled.

“You’re -- oh my god -- you’re a deity?” she questioned in between violent giggle fits. Relief had racked her being. The war drum of her heart was gone. Her cheeks a light dusting of pink. A mortal was still in the deity’s grasp. Soft flesh had tensed against him. The fever of his skin persisted.

He laughed, a rough hand stroking the crown of her head. “Naiad. Names are still a thing, right? Naiad is too formal, so is ‘swamp spirit.’ Wait! You can call me Mirio-chan.” A smile had manifested on Mirio’s bewitching features. He knew how syrupy his name would sound.

“Mirio-chan?” she questioned, nectar shrouded in her tone. Like that.

“I don’t see why not! Consider it… a privilege.”

Her eyes lit up, the promise of a privilege from an Adonis was irresistible. “Mirio-chan, my name is--”

“I know who you are. What sort of naiad would I be otherwise?” he mused, breathing into her hair. She was a bouquet of citrus and fir. She smells soft.

A naiad. A deity was leaning onto the crest of her head. Divinity. Air hitched in her rib cage, choked out by her thunderous heartbeat. Meekly, cold hands wrapped around his upper chest. He’s so warm.

She curled into him, rouge cheeks squished against calloused skin. The frigid air was assaulting her frame. He provided warmth. A heated embrace that felt like home. Mirio continued to rest his head atop hers, coarse hands brushing through smooth hair. So soft. So delicate.

“I don’t have an offering for you,” she mumbled abruptly, palms slapping onto his toned chest. Azure orbs observed her. Mirio’s seraphic face scrunched into a pensive expression, golden brows furrowed in thought.

Calloused fingers pinched coral cheeks. Hot breath vanished in her chest. Oxygen-starved lungs heaving into the night. “I think for such a divine right… you can offer me your body!” Mirio’s eyes beamed, passion radiating from him.

“M-my b-body?” she whimpered, her tone meek. She was inexperienced in the ways of pleasing a man. Nothing beyond aching glances between classes. Glances that set her face ablaze. He’s so beautiful. I’m not worthy.

Mirio nodded, his eyes darting to her lips. “Can I kiss you?”

She gulped. Her mind still muddled, core aching for him. Mirio-chan’s touch.

“Please…” she pleaded. Satin hands bracing against cicatrix flesh. Mirio’s muscles contracted under her. Crimson heat spread like wildfire from his sun-kissed cheeks, to the peak of his ears. Flustered. Silky hair illuminated against his ruddiness. Soft toe tips melted into the earth, straining to ensnare roseate lips.

Mirio bent down, his form no longer dwarfing her. Rough hands finding purchase on her shoulders. She braced against him, arms into her chest. It felt almost inappropriate to lean against him bare-handed. A naiad.

She closed her eyes, ebony lashes laying atop crimson cheeks. Mirio’s chapped lips met hers, the pillowy sensation inducing a tighter grip on her shoulders. He could break her like this. A runty, naive mortal lying beneath him. No. Her cherubic form was to be savored. Deities deserved offerings.

He pulled away, the glint of a pink tongue chasing the after taste. Her lips were velvet. Satin. Rose lips that tasted divine. The coiled abyss in Mirio’s center ached for more.

Innocent eyes opened, the need in her chest growing. Mirio’s bare body overstimulating her. “Can… can you kiss me again?”

He leaned in, his lips roughly slamming against hers. A muscled arm padding its way to her waist. The warmth his touch provided was euphoric. She responded to his touch, soft flesh mollifying against him. This kiss was starving for affection. Mirio tugged her closer, his fever enveloping her.

Mirio’s other hand migrated from her shoulder, finding comfort against her balmy cheeks. A large calloused thumb swirling circles them. She had forgotten the duty of offering herself to him. Mirio’s hands were a holy revelation.

His hands wandered against her side, no longer attached to her waist. Supple skin brushing against maimed flesh.

Pink lips parted, meek pants forming in the chilly air. Greedy lungs gulping down oxygen. I fucking want him.

“Touch me more,” she muttered, modesty getting the best of her. The violent pounding of her heart was making it difficult to focus. Mirio had ignited an inferno of desire spreading from her pulsating womanhood. This feeling was foreign to her. Hot longing forming a coil in her stomach.

Mirio graciously obliged, eager hands roaming. Delicate skin tensed under his touch. He caught her virgin lips again. Mirio’s ravenous tongue demanding entrance. Virgin lips separated for him, her breath sultry against him. The hint of fresh apples danced on her tongue. Syrupy kisses consuming her.

Battle-worn hands grasped her bosom, eliciting a soft gasp. Her body was so fragile beneath him. Virgin skin prickling at his touch. Large, gentle hands began to massage her breasts, palming through autumn layers. Her breath hitched, tender arms wrapped around his neck, hoisting herself closer to his lips. Mirio’s curious hands snaked under her layers. Greedy hands desperate for cherubic flesh.

“You feel so good,” he whined, palming through her sweater. She felt his engorged shame poking against her clothed thigh. Mirio was impatient for her, his body crushing against her.

Suddenly, she broke the heavy kiss. “I -- I don’t know if I can be a good offering… I’m a virgin. I don’t know how to please a man.” Her tone melancholy, tears festing under. The hot sensation of Mirio’s rugged hands still atop virgin breasts. Mirio’s hands paused, the ghost of fingertips on her sternum.

“Do you not want me?” he asked, his tone a prism of raw curiosity and dismay. His posture slumping. A proud body now crestfallen. Am I not enough?

“N-no,” she stuttered. “Y-you’re fucking beautiful. I want to… To feel you!” Using profanity plainly felt exuberant. A virgin mouth now foul.

“Then feel me,” Mirio said. Coarse, damaged hands crept under her sweater, cupping a brassiere. Her flesh seared from his touch. Flustered skin arched into him. Her body throbbed for him. Mirio’s fingers worked gingerly, exploring her clothed bosom. Delicate skin prickled under him.

An unruly moan flowed from her lips, the pitch a squeal. His fingers were celestial. Hands only a god could possess. A naiad. His divine being needed to be worshipped. Gently, she palmed his chest, virgin hands eager to touch. Deep grooves decorated his chest. Pale raised bumps that encompassed stories. Mirio felt sturdy. A body carved from marble before her.

Greedy digits responded to her moan, kneading her breasts. Worn hands dwarfed her bosom. Mirio’s touch was electric, her veins ablaze. His hands now roughly groping unblemished skin. Mirio was desperate to replicate the whine, his manhood heavy against her thigh. Slowly, delicate hands traveled down his abdomen, savoring his seraphic anatomy. Tender fingers learning every scar. How could a mangled man possess such brilliance?

She stifled a moan, biting down on her tongue. It was embarrassing to share such intimate, foreign sounds.

“I want to hear you, please,” he begged. The deity’s desire grinding into her thigh, the delicate flesh stimulating him.

A lustful whimper escaped from her, rampant hot breaths following. He feels so fucking good. Her inexperienced hands made short work of her bra, the thin garment quickly falling between them. She wanted to feel Mirio’s explicit touch. Rough hands penetrating her core and deflowering her.

Mirio’s rugged fingers ghosted across pink nipples. She trembled under him, feverishly drinking in his touch. Mewls began to creep from her. Fragile, wet noises that perforated the night. Mirio’s member hardened from the sounds. So pretty.

Experienced, cicatrix hands playfully clawed the hem of her sweater, pleading to disrobe. She looked up at him, delicate mouth agape. Timid hands halted the memorization of his anatomy and clasped the hands on her sweater. Slowly, she lifted the sweater, revealing a supple abdomen. Mirio’s azure eyes flickered across unclaimed maiden breasts. His cheeks a light shade of pink. Exposed skin shivering from the chill.

Instantly, Mirio’s wet mouth latched to her bare bosom. A pink tongue swirling around her left nipple, his scarred hands caressing the other. His hands were god. Timid pants of ecstasy hung from her lips, the heat from her core overwhelming. Overstimulated.

Chaste hands wandered to the manhood grinding against her thigh. Slowly, she began to lightly stroke Mirio’s length. A husky moan burst from him, Mirio’s chest vibrating against her. Adoring hands explored him; inexperienced fingertips finding his leaking head. The stimulation of her thigh and stroking provided too much, causing pre-cum to leak. She brushed over it, using his juices as lube.

Veins ran alongside his cock, the head uncut. Mirio felt impressive in her hands. His godhood.

A pop sounded through her moans, Mirio switching attention to her overstimulated right nipple. The left puffy and slick with saliva. She yelped as he bit down, a muffled moan echoing from him. Pleasure and pain blended as Mirio harshly sucked her nipple, leaving hickies around her arola. The mark of a god.

Mirio was relentless in his assault of her bosom. She felt the aftershocks of his tongue, licking up her hickies. His hand passed down her stomach and stopped atop the edge of her pants. Cautiously, a damaged hand slid under. The fever of her core radiating.

“F-fuck me!” she blurted, her words slurring. Mirio’s hands worked miracles upon her maidenform. Her womanhood dripping and wanting. Driven only by pleasure, she pulled down her pants, exposing herself to him.

He obliged, a girthy finger gliding onto her clit. The foreign sensation sending violent shockwaves of pleasure through her frame. He gingerly massaged her clit, her delicate whimpers coaxing him. She was eager for Mirio. A calloused hand soaked in her slick. Delicately, Mirio slipped a finger inside her. Her moist folds contracted against him. Once she was used to him, Mirio began to lightly pump into her. His finger still massaging circles into her clit.

She quickened her pace, chaste hands now roughly slithering down his manhood. Mirio’s cock now covered in excessive pre-cum. A tremor of loud, unashamed moans pulsating between them. Her womanhood desired him. She ached for Mirio to fill her. A crater of lust forming.

Encouraged, Mirio ghosted a second digit inside her. The girth of his fingers stretching her. Her aching unsatisfied. She yearned for his member. Mirio could fill the pit of lust inside her.

In a haze of eroticism, she guided Mirio’s cock to her wet entrance. The head of his cock twitched in anticipation. A low growl resounding from him.

“You’re so excited for me, aren’t you?” he mused, pulling out digits soaked in her nectar So eager. Holding her gaze, Mirio shoved the fingers into his mouth, sucking on the aftertaste of her. A pop resonated when he pulled them out, saliva trailing between. Her sweetness lingered on his tongue.

Mirio slowly entered her, an animalistic grunt lapsing from him. She pulsated around him, her walls swallowing his cock. So warm, so fucking wet.

“Fuck,” he cursed, softly pumping into her. A robust whine was forced from her lips, ecstasy flooding her anatomy. Muscular arms locked her in a lover’s embrace, Mirio frantic for her. Her back arched, needy for him. Pent-up warmth finally escaping her core. The swamp ablaze with their combined noises of pleasure. Emboldened, Mirio fastened his pace, bucking into her. Scarred hands finding purchase on her hips. His tempo constantly rising. The sound of maiden flesh mixing with damaged skin.

Mirio rutted into her, heated breath on her collarbone. Her hands wandered his godly frame, finally resting on his back. A cluster of red lines decorated his toned back as Mirio hammered her womanhood.

Instinctively, Mirio’s hand reached down, teasing her clit. The sensation sending her into a quivering mess underneath him. Her cheeks ablaze with arousal.

She moaned against him, pink lips agape with euphoria. The crescendo of her pleasure approaching. She squirmed underneath him. The overstimulation too much. Euphoria trapped in her core, releasing in violent waves through her body.

Despite her release, Mirio continued to slam into her walls. Her wetness mixed with his pre-cum and cascaded down her bare leg. A second orgasm bubbled from the pit of her stomach. Scarred digits abusing her clit. She felt it, a second cruel orgasm being forced from her. A high-pitched squeal ripped from her lips. Muscles abruptly contracted as an orgasm racked Mirio, a deafening moan rumbling from him. Warm cum drenched her core, slowly leaking.

#mirio togata #mirio togata x reader #bnha #im finally shitposting this 2 tumblr jfc #posted on ao3 #smut #deity!au #quirkless!au

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spacehologramcollection · 5 years

Text

Kombat Krew and flirting;

I cannot believe I’ve not wrote this yet. So here it is, the Kombat Kast and their flirting. It’s hefty post! Quite a few characters in here! Warnings; NSFW so it’s under the cut, 18+, mentions of Kano but it’s mostly a shitpost with some seriousness in it. GIFS do not belong to me, either found on here or google!

· Sub Zero (Kuai Liang);

Awkward as fuck. He does not have an idea what to say. He’s trying. He really is. He learnt what he knows from Bi-Han which isn’t great! He knows ice puns and that is it. Ice Puns and smiling awkwardly. It’s endearing enough for you to smile and laugh a little. That’ll do. He won’t flirt with you in public, but in private he will fucking try his hardest! Lots of odd remarks, him complimenting your fighting style, your honour etc. He doesn’t want to be as forward was Bi-Han, because it’s fucking crude and cringe worthy. So, expect some odd remarks.

· Kabal; Pre-Burnt; Teasing, living to make you laugh. He’s so suave and confident, but not overly so that it’s off putting. He wants to make you laugh, so his flirts will be fun filled. Not overly forward but isn’t afraid to talk to you first. He wants to see that smile. Will reference his speed, before remarking it doesn’t apply to all aspects of his life. Think of that whatever way you want. Post-Burn; His flirting has changed just like he has. He’s not confident anymore, he doesn’t feel suave. That once brimming confidence feeling has been replaced by malcontent for himself. But he still wants to make you laugh. He’ll meet your gaze, see you smiling, before dropping his gaze and looking back. Just to make sure you meant to do that. When he see’s no change, he’ll come over and awkwardly try and flirt. His old-self is trying to burst through, but then he represses it. It’s endearing and cute. When he hears you laugh at one of his shitty jokes, it makes him laugh and smile under the mask. He’s not laughed like that in a long time.

· Erron Black; Tips his hat, M’lady. God, I hate myself for writing that. He is extremely smooth and suave with his flirting. Some of it is cheesy, some a bit crude and some of it smooth. We’ve all seen his intros with all the ladies. Some of it makes you cringe and go no. But some of it will have you ready to take your horse to the old town road and ‘til you can't no more. Sorry I am a fucking hot-mess right now. He’s had many years to practise and is well versed in the art of flirting. He won’t boast about how many partners he has wooed, because that would be untasteful. But he demonstrates it with his skill. He can go from being sexual to a gentleman in a matter of seconds. He’ll bring you flowers, call you cute pet names and make you feel fucking divine.

· Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi); With his wife, things were simple and easy. Not as complicated. But nowadays everything has changed. Since when was flirting this difficult for him? Did he even really flirt back then? He’s rusty and he knows it, so he’s very thankful that you have the patience of a saint. Things come out wrong, his words get muddles and he seems awkward. But god does it sound so sweet and lovely in that voice of his. He’ll end up using actions rather than words. Placing a cherry blossom in your hair. He’ll also flirt in Japanese, if you’re not fluent in it, he will find it easier to flirt with you. Maybe because he knows you won’t understand fully and therefore there is less pressure. Either way, it’s sweet and very caring. Every flirt is like a commitment and it’s almost poetic sounding.

· Smoke; Oh shit here you go again. Smoke cannot flirt for shit either. The Lin Kuei need a lesson in flirting. Not from Bi-Han or Johnny either. He isn’t forward, and he comes across shy. His flirtatious remarks come from the books he’s read. He knows the works of fiction do not translate to reality. So, he holds back flirting. However, him reading has its perks. It’s a conversation starter. Which means if he spies you reading, occasionally smiling and making eyes at him. He’ll nut up and shut up, walk over, and start talking about the book. Usually starting with ‘I won’t spoil the ending…’ His flirting is literally him starting a conversation. He’d ask Kuai for advice, but he knows he’s worse than he is.

· Bi-Han; The complete opposite of his brother. He’s overly confident. He can come across as a little forward. If he see’s you making his eyes at him, he’s going to initiate his flirt mode. Which is not amazing. It’s cringeworthy. He picked most of his lines and moves up from movies. So, yeah, expect some shit. It makes Kuai want to cry watching him flirt. He’s more open to public flirting. He’s joint Grandmaster, who’s going to say shit to him flirting with you? No one, that’s who. He’s the type of guy to try and be smooth but it goes wrong. He once tried to lean against a wall, missed, but managed to recover him falling down. Into a rather suave push up. Cringey, but impressive and it won you over.

· Havik; (Since he is alive and just a fucking chaotic weirdo) You thought Kuai’s flirtatious remarks could be odd. Wait till you flirt with this hot-mess. Havik is really forward, not in a sexual sense, but more so in a ‘Please take all my love, if it suits you’ He’ll compliment you on WEIRD fucking things. You could beat his arse and he’s their like ‘I’ve never been more aroused in my life’ Remember, Chaosrealmers are fucking WEIRD. If you’re unorganised or clumsy, he’s going to be complimenting you on that shit. He’ll also compliment you on strange things, like your elbows, knees or teeth? You’re unsure what is going on. But that’s why it’s fun. He’ll also tilt his head to an extreme angle if you try and cover up your smile or laugh.

· Hotaru;

Prim and proper. Since that’s his way. You’d expect him not to be smooth, but he is surprisingly so. He’ll ask permission before initiating flirting, because there has to be some rules and regulations. He’s old school when it comes to flirting. Picks you up on time, brings flowers, which are perfectly arranged. He’ll have you home on time, before 10pm and all that jazz. He’ll also compliment you on your organisation, your hair (He knows good hair when he see’s it) and he’s the type of guy to place flowers in your hair whilst you’re walking.

· Raiden; What is this flirting? Does he need to consult the Elder Gods? He has no idea what the fuck is going on. And he has no idea what the fuck to do. Mortal Courting rituals are lost on him at first. He spent many a night, reading and scouring the ancient texts, and the magazines Cassie and Jacqui left at the Sky Temple. He learnt about flirting techniques and that orange is the new pink. Who fucking knew? When he discovers that flirting indicates that you are interested in someone, he will brush up on his skill (Practising on Fujin, who is fake swooning and bigging him up) before trying it on you. The lines are corny, they don’t make sense but it’s sweet he tried.

· Fujin; Windows error noise plays. He, like Raiden has no idea what the fuck is going on. Even more so than Raiden. He is inept, and the customs of Mortals are fucking lost on him. He doesn’t have the leisure of asking Johnny, though Raiden advised him never to take said advice. Instead, he like Raiden, will scour books and texts, before practising on Raiden and Liu Kang. Who just smiles and nods politely, watching as two revered gods try and learn the art of flirting. Kung Lao offers to help, boasting his prowess, but Fujin can see through that bullshit in a minute. Fujin and his flirting is more sweet than suave and smooth. He focuses on complimenting you and things he finds admirable. It’s very quiet and is uttered with surety but awkwardness. Very cute.

· Kung Lao; Kung Lao and flirting is an odd combination. He boasts about his prowess and his skills with flirting. He has the theory but little to no practise. However, saying that it does come naturally to him. He’s naturally charming, cocky and cheeky. And it pays off for him. He’s very suave and smooth when it comes to his flirting. He’s extremely confident but he can shy away a little if you’re overly forward back. Like I said, theory but no practice. He’ll have you swooning in no time. He is, after all, a very sinful monk.

· Baraka; What is this flirting? When he finds out it’s the way humans show interest in one another he sort of scoffs. No way he’s doing that. Tarkatan’s have ways to attract interest from a potential partner. He will do it that way. So, his flirting, is him trying to impress you in sparring matches, near butt ass naked with paint on him. He’ll keep glancing over at you to make sure you’re watching him perform. He doesn’t do soft and cute, Tarkatan’s have a love for battle, and that is how they impress their partners, by demonstrating their prowess in battle. He wants to prove he is worthy/suitable and impress you that way.

· Johnny Cage; When he was younger he was extremely vain, arrogant and overly-cocky. It was very much ‘Do you know who I am?’ mixed in with cheesy pick-up lines and self-centred vanity. Not the best of looks on him. However, now he’s matured up, and experienced the love hurricane that was Sonya. He is a lot calmer, less forward, but still confident and slightly cocky. He’s humorous and will make you laugh and smile. It’s what he wants to see. If he’s called Earthrealm’s clown, he’s going to live up to that reputation.

· Sonya Blade;

Sonya is a bit of a tease when it comes to flirting. She’ll be like ‘Are you flirting with me soldier?’ all serious. Before laughing and telling you she’s messing with you, upon you getting flustered. She hasn’t the time to mess about, so her flirting is very direct and indicating of her motives. If she’s into you, she will let you know about it. She’s sort of smooth but more of a tease. Always direct though and hardly ever soppy and soft.

· Cassie Cage; She’s nothing like Johnny when it comes to flirting. She’s more direct like Sonya. If she’s into you, she will let you know. Some of her stuff can be on the softer side, but she won’t be writing you any love poetry anytime soon. She has a good sense of humour and will love to share that with you. She’s into making the both of you laugh and making you feel relaxed. She doesn’t do pick-up lines. She can be sweet at times, but it’s a side of her you’ll only see in private and when you’re both really close.

· Geras; He has spent an eternity wandering the realms, enterally lonely. You want to spend the eons with him? But you cannot you are a mortal… oh, you were flirting with him? He had no idea. He’s another who’s a bit unsure of flirting. It’s a Mortal Custom, one he isn’t well versed in. What he does know, is that it has changed over the years. He could literally try and flirt/court you in so many ways. He instead, cherry picks the best bits from all of time. He’s a bit awkward with the lines at first. But he makes up with the delivery with enthusiasm. Geras needs some love and TLC. He needs a fucking hug, someone fucking hug him now!

· Kano; Comes up to you, pissed in a bar, spills his drink everywhere and slurs his words. Leans in for a kiss, misses and ends up kissing the table. Either that or you mace him. Either way, he’s passed out, in a puddle of his own vomit. He’s fucking foul On a serious note, his flirting would be crude, disgusting and overtly sexual. He’ll boast about everything. From his money, to his power, to his cock. He’ll try boast about his respect, even though it’s none-existent. You know this from him trying to show off to you, telling Kabal to go get him a drink, to which Kabal launched a bottle of beer at the wall near him. Telling him to fuck off and get his own. Don’t do it. Date Kabal or Erron. Fuck it, even Kira!

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fangirl--of-everything · 5 years

Text

The Mortal (Nicholas Scratch x Reader) part 1

word count: ~4500

request: Nope, just wrote it for fun. Requests are still closed.

summary: The Weird Sisters are interested in playing games with some mortals, and they coerce Nick into joining them. But the girl they have chosen for him is more charming than he expected.

warning: I think one swear word, but that’s it for this part.

A.N. The lack of Nicholas Scratch content makes me sad, so I decided to create some of my own. This is going to be a bit of a series, I have parts 2 and 3 done already, I’ll get those up soon. I hope you guys like it.

part 1, part 2, part 3

Alright, enjoy :)

The bell above the door of the bookstore jingled, and in walked four strangers dressed in all black. It was early in the morning, and the shop was almost empty except for a small number of patrons near the back. Most of them looked up to acknowledge the newcomers, except for one tucked away in the back corner of the shop.

“Why are we here Nick?” Dorcas whined, leaning against Agatha. “It’s too early.”

“No one forced you to come Dorcas.” Nick rolled his eyes. “There’s a book here that I need for a spell I’m working on. I just have to find it, and then we can head home, and you can go back to sleep.”

She pouted and pursed her lips. “I didn’t say I wanted to go to sleep. I just meant, if we’re going to be spending our weekend interacting with the morals, we should be having fun, not coming to some silly bookstore.”

“Like I said, you didn’t need to come.”

Nick tuned out the whining of the Weird Sisters and turned his attention towards the shelves, searching for the book he needed. The bookshelves were not well organized, but finally he found the spot where the book should have been. Empty.

He bit back a groan. He needed the book to finish a divining spell for an assignment due on Monday, and if he couldn’t get his hands on it, it was going to make the rest of the day far less enjoyable.

Prudence was watching him with that look he didn’t like, the one that said she was reading the room around her and scheming about how to cause some chaos within it. She saw him looking and raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Something wrong Nicky?”

He shook his head.

“Having trouble finding the book you’re looking for?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah, it’s not here.”

“Would you like us to help you look for it?”

He sighed and raised an eyebrow. “What do you want in exchange?”

“Well, my sisters and I were talking, and we decided since we’re here, and since it’s been so long since we’ve had any fun, we’re going to find some mortals to play with tonight. You should join us.”

“Prudence, you know I don’t do stuff like that.”

“True,” she pursed her lips innocently, tapping one dark fingernail against her chin, “but can you really afford to fail this divining assignment?”

He couldn’t. He was the top student in his grade at the academy, and he needed to maintain that grade if he wanted to keep on track and one day become a high priest, or at least a high warlock. To do that he needed the book.

“Fine. If you get it for me I’ll join you guys tonight.”

She smiled sinisterly, ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and pointed across the room. “The book is over there.”

Nick followed her finger to the back corner of the room, where a teenage girl was curled up in an armchair. She was in a knitted sweater and a long floral skirt, which she had tucked her feet up into. On the armrest was an open notebook, which she was writing in, and in her lap was an open book. The book he needed.

He sighed. “How long have you known it was there?”

Prudence shrugged innocently. “I’m sure the mortal girl won’t mind letting you borrow it. And you can invite her to join us tonight too. It will be fun.”

-----/--/-----

(Y/n) was sitting in her favourite seat in the back of the bookstore, an old book on the theory of the night sky open in front of her. She needed it to help clarify a plot point in a creative writing project she was outlining. The problem was that since the book was so old, it was extremely difficult to decipher, making it a struggle to get the information she needed.

She was so intent on trying to decipher one particular footnote that she didn’t notice someone in front of her until that person cleared their throat. She jumped, so startled that her pencil fell out of her hand, and looked up to see a dark haired boy standing in front of her, eyebrows raised at her severe reaction.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up the pencil and handed it back to her.

“Don’t be. Thanks.” She took the pencil back. “Were you trying to get my attention for some reason?”

“Actually yes. I was wondering if I could borrow that book once you’re done with it.” He pointed to the book she had been working so hard at interpreting.

She nodded, even though she had been hoping to have access to it all day. The boy gave her a charming smile and then took a seat not far away, grabbing a book from one of the shelves and settling in to read.

(Y/n)’s relaxing Saturday of research and outlining had been ruined. She was all anxious now about not keeping the book too long since that other guy wanted it, and since she was stressed it made it harder to focus on the text and what she was trying to get from it. Within thirty minutes she was getting a headache and she was annoyed. When the boy closed his book and got up she was prepared to tell him that she had changed her mind and he couldn’t borrow the book anymore, but he walked past her and went up to the coffee bar.

He came back holding two mugs, and he put one of them down on the small table in front of her.

“Pumpkin spice tea,” he said in response to her raised eyebrows. He pointed to the other mug on the desk, which was empty. “I asked the barista what you were drinking. I figured since I’m stealing that book from you it was the least I could do to treat you to a drink.”

(Y/n)’s irritation faded, and she was left feeling stunned. She stammered a thank you, and moved to close the book and give it to him even though she wasn’t close to being done with it.

He shook his head. “No, no. Don’t rush. Take your time.”

“To be honest, I’m struggling to get through this.” She admitted. “It’ll probably be a long time before I finish with it. So if you need it you should probably just take it now.”

He crossed his arms and looked thoughtful for a second, and then he shrugged. “Why don’t I help? I’m pretty good with old books, and I’m not doing anything else. Might save us both some time.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “You want to help me do research?”

He nodded. “Is there any room for me on that couch?”

They spent the next two hours sitting side by side with the book balanced between them. It’s a little cramped on the couch, but Nick was friendly and charming and somehow it wasn’t too awkward. They ended up spending half the time just chatting idly, and she explained to him a little bit about what she was writing. She had found an old book about this crazy satanic cult in Greendale when the town was founded, and after reading it she came up with the idea for a novel that explored a society of dark witches.

When she mentioned that her research was for a spell in the book that she was trying to understand, Nick looked really impressed, but when she asked why he brushed it off.

He was right when he said he was good with old books, and he was able to decipher the book a lot more easily than she could have. He was able to figure out everything that had stumped her for the last couple of hours, and soon she was able to give him the book that he had been waiting so patiently for.

“Thank you for your help,” she said as she handed him the book. “And I’m sorry for it taking so long.”

“Not to worry.” He gave her a charming smile. “I’m sorry I have to steal the book from you. Maybe I could make it up to you?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Some friends of mine are having a party tonight. You could come with me.”

Nick was charming. Extremely charming. And (y/n) couldn’t deny that he was attractive. But this was not the first time kids from the preppy boarding school came into Greendale, and (y/n) knew that anyone who was stupid enough to hang out with them ended up regretting it. The stories she had heard about kids who had gone out to party with them, only to wake up days later with bruises and no memory of what had happened, were more than enough of a warning.

She only felt a little bad when she turned him down. “I’m sorry, but I have plans for tonight.”

“Oh yeah? What are you up to?”

She explained that she and some friends were driving down to Sweetwater river for a party of their own, to have one last bonfire before they had to start studying for exams.

He didn’t seem to take the rejection too hard, giving her an understanding smile. “Any way you could swing by afterwards?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to spending some more time with you. You seem cool.”

“Thanks.” She tried not to blush.

He gathered their mugs and brought them back up to the counter, and gave her a final friendly smile and a wave as he moved towards the door.

Hr stomach clenched, and she was already starting to regret the rejection. She sighed. “Wait.”

He turned to look at her, eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”

“I know you’ve got your party tonight, but if you wanted you could stop by the river for a bit. If you wanted.”

She could feel a flush rising in her face as she spoke, and she had to resist the urge to fidget nervously with the hem of her sweater.

Nick flashed her a grin and a wink. “Maybe I will.”

-----/--/-----

It was ten at night, and (y/n) and her friends had all gotten to Sweetwater river. Two of the boys had brought a bunch of wood, and (y/n) was getting the fire started, since none of the others knew how to do it. They were already drinking, and everyone was relaxing in the sand of the lakeshore, chatting before the night got too crazy.

“Hey,” her friend Dylan came and squatted next to her. “Want a beer?”

“Nope, I want a Sommersby, like I always drink when we go out. You know this dude.”

“True. How’s the fire going?”

“Good.” (Y/n) had the structure all set up, and she was now lighting the pieces of newspaper that she had tucked into the center, waiting for it to catch. “Hold my hand and pray with me.”

Dylan snorted, but he reached out and took her hand, and they both bowed their hands dramatically, waiting to see if the fire would catch. There was a faint whoosh, and then the logs caught, and darker smoke started rising.

“Yes!” They both shouted triumphantly, and the rest of the group cheered as the fire started to crackle and burn. It immediately got warmer.

(Y/n) and Dylan settled down in the sand, his arm draped around her shoulders. “So, when is the handsome boarding school boy gonna show up?”

“Nick?” (Y/n) felt her face flush, and she swatted at Dylan’s arm. “I shouldn’t have told you about that. He’s probably not going to come. We just hung out for a couple of hours at Cerberus’s, it was nothing.”

“But he invited you to a party, didn’t he? He probably thinks you’re hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “One of those crazy parties the preppies throw. Remember what happened to Dayton and Carl after they partied with some of the prep kids? Carl still has a tremor that he didn’t have before.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Okay yeah, they’re probably all freaks over there at that school, but still. You don’t need to date the guy, you can just hook up and have some fun before classes go to hell.”

“True, but--”

He elbowed her hard enough in the ribs to knock her sideways, forcing her to catch her weight on one of her arms. When she pushed herself back up, asking him what the fuck he was doing, he pointed to the road, where someone was walking towards them.

“Is that him?”

For a second she couldn’t tell, but then the firelight hit him, and she realized that it was. Dylan smacked her arm excitedly and practically dragged her to her feet, shoving her towards him. She swatted at his arm again, her face hot and red as she turned to Nick.

“Hey.” He smiled charmingly at the two of them.

“Hey.” (Y/n) tried to smile past the butterflies that had suddenly sprung up as soon as he flashed that dimple at her. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up.”

“I couldn’t stand up a pretty girl interested Sacasas’s theories on astrology and the night sky.” He winked. His attention turned to the bonfire, and the small crowd that was gathered around it. “This looks fun. What are you guys up to?”

“Getting drunk on the beach,” Dylan cut in, stepping forward and holding out a hand. “I’m Dylan by the way, nice to meet you.”

“Nicholas Scratch.” Nick smiled politely. He turned to look at (y/n), eyebrows raising. “Wanna introduce me to everyone else?”

(Y/n) nodded, and she led the way over to the campfire. She introduced all her friends and explained how they all knew each other, and then she asked Nick if he wanted a beer or anything. He said he had a family thing the next day so he wasn’t going to drink, and he had to get himself to that other party later so he had to be sober to drive. (Y/n) told him she wouldn’t drink either, in a show of solidarity.

“You don’t need to do that.” He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t want to stop you from having a good night.”

“You won’t.” She promised. “Bonfires are always fun, with or without alcohol.”

They ended up settling on the sand, chatting about nothing in particular. One of her friends started playing music through the speakers of their car, and some of them started dancing on the lakeshore. Nick raised his eyebrows at her, but she shook her head.

“I don’t dance.”

“You sure? You look like a dancer.”

She shook her head and tried to hide a smile, bumping his shoulder with hers. “You’re a bit of a flirt, aren’t you?”

“You’re just noticing now?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “I hate to tell you this, but I’ve been flirting with you all day.”

He shifted so he was facing her, and his gaze dropped down to her lips. Her stomach twisted.

“Want some food?” She asked, turning away and pushing to her feet. “I’m starving.”

“Uh, sure.”

“What do you want? A s’more? Spiderdog?”

Nick blinked at her in confusion.

“What?”

“I have no idea what either of those things are.”

“What?” Her mouth dropped open. “How do you not-- what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I never went camping as a kid or anything, and I come from a pretty private community. What the hell is a s’more?”

(Y/n) shook her head and tried not to smile. She offered Nick her hand. “Alright, get up. I’m going to teach you how to make the perfect s’more.”

She grabbed two sticks which some of the guys had already sharpened and cleaned, and came back with the bag of marshmallows, and two hotdogs. Nick’s eyebrows widened, and she laughed and explained that the marshmallows were for him, and the hotdogs were for spiderdogs. She handed him a stick with a marshmallow on it and told him to hold it over the fire, and then she cut each end of the hotdogs into four pieces, and put both dogs onto her stick. When she turned around to hold them over the fire too, she saw that Nick’s marshmallow was on fire and melting off of the stick.

“Oh my god!” she tried not to laugh as she pulled the stick back, blowing on the marshmallow until the fire went out.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Nick asked, but he was laughing too. “Was I not supposed to burn it?”

She shook her head, still giggling. “No, not really.”

She pulled off the burnt shell of the marshmallow and popped it into her mouth. He raised his eyebrows, but she shook her head. She was going to offer him the warm middle of the marshmallow, but she decided that he was going to have to wait. She was going to make him the perfect s’more.

Nick got tasked with cooking the hotdogs, holding them over a spot where the fire had burned down to bright red coals, under strict instructions not to let them burn or catch fire. (Y/n) got to work toasting the marshmallow, spinning it slowly as it puffed up and turned a light golden brown. She explained to him what she was doing the entire time, as if she were cooking an extremely complex recipe, and he complied by asking a series of ridiculous questions. There was a near miss where they almost lost a spider leg, but Nick acted quickly and blew it out before it got too burnt.

Once the food was done (y/n) made the s’more, making Nick close his eyes so that he didn’t see the ingredients. Once she was done she held it up to his mouth and told him to take a bite.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Just try it. Trust me.”

He nodded, and took a bite of the s’more, ending up with melted marshmallow all over his bottom lip and the graham cracker falling apart.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, laughing and struggling to hold onto the collapsing s’more.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really good!” He shoved the rest of it into his mouth, and licked the melted marshmallow from his fingers. He still had some at the corner of his mouth, and (y/n) wasn’t able to hold back a giggle as she pointed it out.

“Where?” his tongue flicked out along his bottom lip. “Did I get it?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s just,” she gently tapped the corner of his mouth, and his tongue swiped out again.

“How about now?”

“Nope, still there.”

“Really?” his eyebrows rose, and he leaned closer to her. “Can you get it for me?”

“Uh, yeah.” She tried not to blush, and she reached up to wipe the marshmallow away. Once she got it she pulled away, but when she looked up from his mouth she realized how close their faces were. His eyes were really dark, but this close she could see that they were actually a really deep brown, not black.

“I, uh, I think I got it.” She said softly.

His voice was rough. “You sure?” His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then back up again.

She swallowed hard. “Uh, no, actually I think there’s still some…” She closed the distance between them and caught his mouth with hers.

He slid a hand into her hair, and he parted his lips, deepening the kiss from a light peck into something more. Her stomach flipped, and she shivered as his fingers tightened on her hair. (Y/n)’s tongue flicked out across his bottom lip, and he really did taste like marshmallows and chocolate. His other hand caught her hip and tugged her closer. She gasped against his mouth. The movement caused her to knock over the other stick with the spiderdogs, and it toppled into the fire, the food catching and burning. Neither of them noticed.

When they finally broke apart they were both smiling, and Nick laughed softly. “I was hoping you would do that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He slid his nose against hers.

“In that case, why didn’t you make a move?” She bit her lip and wiggled her eyebrows.

He raised his eyebrows in mock hurt. “Oh really? Is that how it’s gonna be?”

She shrugged. “Hey dude, it’s not my fault you didn’t make the first move, I was just--”

He growled playfully and pulled her into another kiss.

-----/--/-----

‘Nicholas Scratch, what is taking you so long?’

It was past midnight, the bonfire was burned down to embers, and everyone was snuggled up in a huddle against the cold. Relaxing music was playing through the speakers of one of the cars, and everyone was just talking.

Nick was sitting in the grass, Dylan pressed against his back, and (y/n) leaning into him with her head resting on his shoulder. Her blinks were slow and drowsy, and one hand drew lazy designs on his knee.

He hadn’t planned on staying this long. He had promised the Weird Sisters that he would meet them before the witching hour, and even though he didn’t like playing games with mortals, he had made a deal with them, and so he was going to keep his word. Prudence had chosen (y/n) to be his victim, and so he set his sights on her.

He had found her cute while they talked at the bookstore, and he had been genuinely interested when she explained that she was doing research for a book that seemed to be about the Church of Night, but when she turned down his invite to the party the only reason he pushed was because he knew he was expected to bring her to the sisters’ games. He had only come to the river because he knew that he could lure her away and teleport to the woods where the sisters were waiting.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive, but it wasn’t until she was teasing him about not knowing what s’mores were that he realized he actually found her quite charming. And when he kissed her his stomach twisted in a way he wasn’t used to. He figured it was because she was a mortal, and he knew it was wrong.

He kept telling himself he was going to teleport them to the woods, but somehow the night wore on, and he and (y/n) continued to talk, and it just never happened. Now she was lying against him, tilting her head up to press a soft kiss to his jaw, and all he really wanted to do was stay here.

‘Nicky, where are you?’

The Weird Sisters were telepathic, but at a distance they could only project themselves into his mind, not read his thoughts.

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to make it, sorry girls.’

‘What?’ When the girls communicated telepathically they spoke in unison, but he could hear Dorcas’s voice above the others. ‘Why?’

He reached down to catch the fingers that were tracing a pattern on his leg, and tangled his fingers with hers, pressing a kiss to (y/n)’s wrist. ‘I struck out with the mortal girl and couldn’t get my hands on the book, so I have to work overtime on this diviner spell.’

‘But Nicky,’ that was Dorcas again, her voice a low whine. ‘You promised.’

‘Sorry girls. Maybe next time.’

The whining continued, but he muttered a quick spell and bit down on the inside of his cheek so blood filled his mouth, and their voices faded. He whispered another spell to protect himself from being summoned, and then he settled back, enjoying the smell of smoke and the sound of the water behind them.

“What was that?” (Y/n) mumbled softly, shifting against his shoulder.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.” He reached a hand up into her thick hair and dragged his nails along her scalp. She sighed happily.

“Are you gonna head out soon? For your other party?”

He shook his head.

“Really?” She sat up to look at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile, and tugged her head towards him so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’m enjoying being here with you.”

She smiled sleepily and rested her head back on his shoulder.

Nick didn’t have any plans beyond tonight, and in fact he was pretty sure after this he would never see this mortal girl again. He tucked her tighter against him. If this was to be his only night with this fascinating mortal, then he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

They ended up at the lake for a few more hours before they all piled into cars and drove home. (Y/n) was one of the designated drivers since she was sober, and Nick gave her a blessing to make sure that she was able to make it back to Greendale without falling asleep at the wheel.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” She asked. “I can drop you off at your school, it’s no problem.”

“No don’t worry about it, I have a friend who’s on their way to pick me up.”

She looked like she wanted to insist, but he said his friend was already on the road. Dylan leaned heavily on the wheel, the horn violently loud in the quiet night, and shouted for her to stop flirting and hurry up.

Her face flushed, and she bit her lip with a nervous smile. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” Nick said honestly. It had been a fun, normal night, hanging out with drunk normal teenagers who talked about their small mortal problems and had parties that didn’t involve summoning demons or dangerous magic. He almost wished he could do things like this more often.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but then she thought better of it, and took a step closer. She pushed up onto her tiptoes, her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him, soft and gentle. His body moved on its own, his arms wrapping around her waist, and he tugged her closer. He sighed against her mouth.

The kiss was short and sweet, and when she pulled away they were both breathless. She kissed him again, quick, and then stepped out of his arms.

“I’ll see you around Nick.” She smiled.

Nick waited until the cars were out of sight before he teleported back to the academy, his lips still tingling from that last short kiss.

#nicholas scratch #nicholas scratch imagine #nicholas scratch fanfiction #nicholas scratch x reader #the chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #caos fanfiction #caos imagine #nick scratch #nick scratch imagine #nick scratch x reader #nick scratch fanfiction #mine #writing #fanfiction #the mortal

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Philtatos [13/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #fatal flaw #secrets #riddle #fate #revenge #oracle #betrayal #prophecy #jealousy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim feels a little bad about using Jason’s skin hunger against him but only for a moment. Any concern about that vanishes when he peeks back at Jason as they walk, and observes the color returning to the other man’s cheeks. The hand clasped in his own stops shaking the longer they touch.

Tim has never been one to enjoy holding hands—often he’s felt uncomfortable or self-conscious, worrying about sweaty fingers or whether the other person might consider it lame—but this doesn’t feel like that.

This feels right.

It’s actually concerning how right it feels, especially in light of his recent discussion with Steph.

Stop it. This isn’t about you. It’s about putting Jason at ease.

They return to the containment unit to find Barbara facing down Eros—an impressive feat considering she’s in a wheelchair and he’s the one looking down on her. Her face is drawn in irritation, and he’s gratified to see that Eros seems put-out about something.

“Took you long enough. Cherry here says she’s got a bonafide prophecy from the Oracle of Delphi and wouldn’t share it until you got back.” He eyes their entwined hands and leers. “I take it the domestics are going well?”

“Get bent,” Tim snaps in irritation as Jason tugs his hand back so fast he might as well have been burned.

“Only if you do the honors, pretty boy.”

Jason growls and makes a move for his gun, but Tim reaches out to stop him.

“Can you not tease him?” he demands of Eros. “Especially when the only reason he’s like this is because of you.”

“Oh, if only you knew…”

Before Tim can comment on that, Jason interrupts.

“What’s the feathered freak talkin’ about?” he snaps, radiating tension. “What prophecy?”

“The one Signal was able to recover from the girl that was killed,” Barbara says coolly. “He transcribed it and sent it along. Do you want to hear it, or do you want to keep acting like a child?”

This she directs at Eros, who actually does look chastised a beat, before gracing her with a cool smile.

“I guess it is apropos if you do the honors, darlin’,” Eros says with a cool smile. “Is it ironic or coincidental if someone who stole the title of oracle interprets a prophecy from the actual Oracle of Delphi?”

“Who cares? This whole situation is making me hate both irony and coincidence,” Tim says.

“It’s making me wonder if there are any coincidences,” Jason mutters, eyes fixed on Eros in intense dislike.

Barbara offers him an identical look, before thumbing the screen of her phone and opening her incoming messages.

Then she begins to read:

“The Unseen darkness cannot keep its captive thrice for mortal masks the divine that seeks its reward in the city where dark nights conceal the greatest of secrets.

“Crossed beneath the stars when the Rager’s Moon is full, eternal freedom is neigh upon the eleventh moment of the small hour.The sacrifice of the virgin gifts triumph to the prisoner and that which drowned in Lethe’s tears is reborn.

“But take heed, for the winged scion of Cythera, willingly blinded by the veil of vengeance revealed by Discord’s most cursed boon, awakens the warrior guided by the Physicians heir.

“Fury dooms the fair, heralding the return of magnificent Alexandros and one whose name is painted in blood and stone.

“Greatest of loves, damned by the gleam of a golden barb, torn asunder by jealousy and parted by cruel death, they will stand against Strife.

“Titans will rise and one who Death names hero, betrayed yet shielded by love, will sunder the chains of Aidoneus and avenge the victim of grievance. One will be born anew, the other bound eternally to Stygian Darkness.”

There is silence as she puts the phone down, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“What?” Tim says.

“I see your ‘what’ and raise you a ‘the fuck’,” Jason adds. “Does any of that make sense to anyone else? Because it don't make sense to me.”

“Blame my uncle,” Eros says, apparently annoyed.

“What? Why?” Tim wants to know. “Which one’s he?”

“Apollo,” Barbara says, still considering the puzzling words on the screen. “Aside from being a sun god, he was also the god of prophecy.”

“Talking in riddles is his favorite pastime,” Eros agrees. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’ll bet,” Tim agrees. “We’ve got someone like that here in Gotham.”

“Yeah, and he’s a frequent guest of Arkham, so what’s that tell you?” Jason grumbles.

“That people who come up with riddles have too much time on their hands.”

“There’s a reason the Oracles of Delphi didn’t put their predictions into simple words,” Barbara points out. ”If you give people information about what’s coming, how do you know you’re not ensuring it will or won’t come to pass? It was important for them to be seen as the medium of the message and not an agent.

“By keeping information vague, it would seem like they were allowing a querant the chance to defy fate, while at the same time allowing fate to take its natural course, whatever that might be,” Eros agrees. “Ans it was good insurance. Even Oracles needed to cover their asses. You were less likely to get your head lopped off by a visiting king that received news he didn’t want to hear. And whatever the outcome, they could still say, ‘we told you so’.” He considers Barbara. “You know, I don’t usually find brainy sexy, but you might just turn me.”

“I’m thrilled,” she deadpans.

“So what’s all this supposed to mean, anyway?” Tim asks, trying to bring the discussion back to the matter at hand.

“It could mean anything. Though to start with, that bit about ‘unseen darkness’, that’s an epithet for the Underworld in old Hellenic documents.”

“We called it that in the old days,” Eros confirms.

“And then there’s the part about someone captive in Hades.”

“I thought Hades was a person?” Tim says.

“It is. But it’s also a place.” Jason tells him.

“It depends on what story and what source you’re drawing from,” Barbara elaborates. “And what translation.”

“What about the next bit? About mortal maskin' the divine?”

“Could that mean whoever’s possessing Carrie Cutter?” Tim suggests. “We’ve already established she’s got help from a god, and if they’re inhabiting her body even for short amounts of time, it’s a pretty effective mask.”

“No doubt,” Eros agrees. “Not so sure about that part with dark nights, but I guess it’s referring to this cesspool you people call a city.”

Tim, Jason and Barbara exchange glances, knowing exactly how dark nights and secrets relate to their city.

Maybe Duke misheard. It might not be dark ‘nights’ so much as dark ‘knights’. Which makes sense, considering Bruce and Dick both have that title depending on the day.

“Safe to say it’s Gotham,” Tim confirms. “So all that begs the question, do you have any idea who’s locked in the Underworld trying to get out?”

Eros snorts. “The better question is who isn’t locked in the Underworld.”

Jason is glaring furiously at Eros, clearly growing tired of his evasive and snarky answers. The way his fists clench, Tim suspects he’s close to throwing a punch at the glass in frustration. Not something Tim wants to see, especially given Jason’s injuries from their altercation with Carrie Cutter and Dick haven’t even been seen to yet.

God, it feels like it was days ago but it was only hours. He probably came right here to confront Eros without even looking after himself.

He has to put that out of his mind for now. Deciphering any clues in the prophecy takes momentary precedence.

“…. A lot of myths end with someone displeasing a god and getting sent to Tartarus, so he has a point,” Barbara is saying, her thumbs busily texting something on her phone.

“So that’s not going to tell us anything,” Tim decides. “What about the ‘crossed beneath the stars’ part?”

“More of the same in terms of pinpointing when everything is supposed to happen,” Eros says.

“Which is when?”

“November twenty-third,” Barbara says, frowning at the small screen in her hand.

Jason looks askance. “How d’you know?”

“'Moon’ equates to month, and another name for Zeus was the Rager,” she replies. “So, Zeus’s month. According to the Athenian calendars we still have access to, Zeus’s month was Maimakterion—which in modern times would fall somewhere between November and December. And the next full moon—” She holds up her phone, showing a lunar calendar for the month, “—falls on November twenty-third. It’s the only full moon that falls during Maimakterion.”

Eros nods along in approval. “What she said.”

“And the small hour?”

“Midnight.”

“So, whatever’s supposed to happen is going to happen eleven minutes after midnight…assuming that’s what moment means,” Tim muses, glancing at his own phone calendar. “That’s this Friday.”

“Five days from now,” Jason agrees, and side-eyes Tim. “We’ve all had shorter deadlines.”

“That’s not necessarily referring to your deadline, sweet cheeks,” Eros reminds him. “I figure you have about half that.”

“No thanks to you.”

“You know, the last Jason I knew wasn’t this whiny.”

“Children,” Barbara says sharply. “Let’s stay focused, shall we? I’m concerned about this virgin sacrifice part—specifically the part where it ensures success for someone we probably don’t want to succeed.”

“Cutter did kill that girl,” Tim reminds them. “Maybe it was some kind of offering, so she’d be successful at whatever she’s trying to do.”

“It’s a good an explanation as anything else,” Eros agrees, examining his nails. “We always did love our human sacrifices. And a virgin does increase the likelihood of something working out to your advantage.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Jason growls. “That’s a kid you’re talking about!”

“And as an Oracle of Delphi she’s entitled to an eternity of bliss once she enters the Underworld,” Eros dismisses. “It’s a better end than some people are entitled to.”

Jason’s eyes blaze as if that’s a personal insult. Tim can certainly empathize.

“What about the second part?” he prompts. “What’s Lethe?”

“The Lethe was the river the souls drank from to forget their previous lives before being reincarnated,” Barbara explains.

“The Ancient Greeks believed in reincarnation? But I thought that was something from the Far East?”

“Many ancient cultures had a concept of reincarnation beyond the Hindu and Buddhist mythos,” Barbara explains. “Just look at the belief systems of the indigenous peoples of North America and you’ll see countless examples. And they didn’t have any contact with the civilizations of Asia during the time when those faiths were evolving.”

Beside Tim, Jason is as stiff as a board and appears to be having trouble breathing. Automatically, Tim edges closer to him, and though he doesn’t outright take his hand—he leans into him, nudging him with his shoulder.

Jason’s eyes dart to him for a moment, and he relaxes incrementally.

“How does that relate here though?” Barbara wants to know.

“Maybe the prisoner forgot something,” Eros suggests, not sounding very interested.

“Or maybe whoever’s tryin' to escape Hades as made to forget something,” Jason counters darkly.

“Only mortals can be made to forget by drinking from the Lethe,” Barbara says. “The prisoner could have been human. Salmoneus or Tantalus or one of the Dainads.”

Tim doesn’t even get a chance to question who they are before Eros interrupts. “Actually, it’s a little broader than just mortals. More like mortals, demigods that haven’t consumed ambrosia, giants, hybrids—”

“So again, we’re back to a broad spectrum of people it could be talkin' about,” Jason complains. “Great. Is there anyone or anything in this stupid prophecy that isn’t doublespeak?”

“Well, the next verse is pretty self-explanatory. Obviously, we’re talking about yours truly,” Eros says, pointing at himself. “What other 'winged son' do you know from mythology?”

“A case could be made for Pegasus.”

“No, it’s Eros,” Tim says. “Cythera’s another name for Aphrodite.” Everyone looks at him in surprise.

“How do you know that?” Jason asks, but where the emphasis ought to suggest incredulity, he sounds impressed.

Tim tries not to bask in that.

“My parents used to visit the island of Cythera a lot when they weren’t on business trips, especially before I was born. It was their favorite vacation destination. Full of history, not touristy—they didn’t like having to socialize with people when they were on vacation.”

Tim falls silent then, remembering sitting in his living room with his parents, pouring over their vacation photos of the Mediterranean island while they told stories. They’d always promised to take him one day…

He glances up and notices the others are watching him now—Eros with a sharp, calculating gaze while Jason appears concerned. As for Barbara, she seems to sense his discomfort, because she navigates them past the lull. “Okay, so if it’s Eros, what are you wanting revenge for? It’s not exactly your M-O.”

“I can think of a few people who have it coming,” Eros answers. “Starting with my mother.”

“What’d she do?” Tim asks.

“Do you have a few centuries worth of couch time?”

“Isn’t she the reason your wife died?” Barbara wants to know. “In the myth, she survived, but Tim told me that's not what happened in reality.”

Eros expression goes cold.

“That’s right,” Tim remembers; he and Eros had this conversation a few days ago, didn’t they? “Aphrodite is the one who sent Psyche to the underworld.”

Eros bares his teeth. “One of her many sins, but not the only one.”

“Then couldn’t the prophecy maybe be referring to her? Psyche, I mean? Maybe she’s the prisoner.”

“Are you implying my wife is the one behind your Cupid’s actions?” Eros growls. “Because that’s impossible.”

“How would you know? It could be—”

“Because she died a mortal! Her soul is mortal and wouldn’t have the power to escape the Underworld in any capacity! Furthermore, Psyche would never kill or arrange the death of anyone! She was good and pure of soul and that’s why I fell in love with her.”

“That’s not what I read,” Barbra says. “Didn’t you prick yourself on one of your golden arrows while watching her?”

“I pricked myself because I fell in love with her,” he snaps. “I’ve already told Jason here that the arrows only work to magnify emotions that are already there.”

“That makes no sense. You liked her before you made yourself fall in love with her?”

“Look, you know the story: Psyche was beautiful. So much so, that the idiots in her kingdom started treating her like a living goddess, bringing the gifts meant for my mother to this human princess. You can guess how well that went over.”

“Right. She sent you to make her fall in love with a horrible beast.”

“Yeah, one of Diomedes mares. Gorgeous animals—people would stop and stare at them for hours. Also, vicious, flesh-eating beasts. Just getting to close to one of those and it would have ripped her to shreds—and she would have stood there and let it.” Eros’ expression becomes soft, eyes faraway at the memory. “If she had been some arrogant, selfish royal I would have let it happen. But I watched her for days while I tried to put her in the path of that thing. And everything she did was just good and kind. I had never seen as pure a soul like hers.” He shakes his head. “The idea of a girl like that being sent to her death just because a bunch of idiot humans had the audacity to praise her alongside my mother didn’t seem fair.”

“And you’re all about fair, aren’t you?” Jason sneers.

Tim has to agree; if Eros cared about fair, he would have been a lot more helpful about curing Jason and wouldn’t have demanded they find his diviners beforehand.

“I was young and stupid, and I didn’t realize the world didn’t work that way,” Eros dismisses. “Even for gods. I thought my mother would never want to harm me—and so if I put Psyche under my protection, she couldn’t hurt her. And if I could show my mother what a good wife Psyche was, even if she was unable to see me, it would prove the point.” He snorts. “It didn’t exactly go my way.”

“And there’s no way her soul could have somehow been corrupted when she died?”

“The Underworld is stagnant. There’s no such thing as change or time there. Everything occurs both in one moment and in all moments there.”

“So you’re saying a soul going in would remain in the same state as it was when it died,” Barbara posits.

“Exactly. How else do you expect the judges to judge souls if they kept changing after death? It’d be a headache.

“Then if it’s not Psyche, who else can you think of that it might be?”

“It might be more than one person,” Tim suggests. “That line about 'greatest of loves'—what if that’s why Carrie’s been targeting couples? She hears the prophecy—or whoever’s riding along inside her hears the prophecy—and thinks there’s a couple out there that’s going to stand against her. She could be trying to eliminate potential threats to her end goal.”

“If so, we need to decipher her criteria for choosing her victims. You already said it didn’t seem like they had anything in common.”

“We’ll have to check again. Maybe now that we’ve got this prophecy, something new will jump out.”

“We skipped a whole verse,” Jason points out. “The ‘warrior guided by the physician’s heir’. Any ideas?”

Eros shrugs. “Since the rest of the prophecy involves me, I’d say it’s me.”

“How do you figure?”

“The Physician is another name for Apollo.”

“So?”

“So, who do you think taught me archery? Next to him, I’m the greatest archer among the Olympians.”

“Or it could be Jason,” Tim ponders.

Jason seems to go pale, almost panicked. “What?”

“I mean, assuming you’re interpreting ‘awaken’ by activating the way you do with a sleeper agent. You infected him with your blood however accidentally and then pressed him into doing your dirty work.”

“I resent your tone, boy,” Eros grumbles, but Jason interjects, “And the other bit?”

“The other bit is just really literal,” Barbara catches on. “Jason, you were trained by Batman. Who was the heir to an actual physician. The M.D. kind.”

Thomas Wayne.

Jason looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. “Shit.”

Eros watches Jason, inscrutable eyes considering; Jason glares back at him as if waiting for him to make a comment.

“But if it’s Jason, the next bit wouldn’t make sense,” Barbara says after a moment. “‘Magnificent Alexandros’. The only Alexandros I can think of off the top of my head if Alexander of Macedon. But that doesn’t really track with the rest of the verse. He was a historical figure, not mythological.”

“That’s offensive, you know,” Eros drawls. “All those stories you call mythology actually happened.”

“Then why don’t we have an archaeological record for them?”

“Because screw you, that’s why.”

“If it is talking about Alexander the Great, Robin will be happy,” Tim says with a rueful smirk.

Jason is perplexed. “Why?”

“Apparently he was on the list of the kid’s League-approved childhood heroes. Mother-son bonding time seems to have included traveling in his footsteps as preparation for world domination.”

Jason looks surprised and amused. “Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“No, it’s just…” Jason shakes his head. “Never mind.” He clears his throat. “So, back to the prophecy. It talks about the Titans—are we talkin' the creatures the Olympian gods overthrew?”

“Well, whenever one of us mention the Titans, it is usually those bottom feeders rotting in Tartarus, yes,” Eros says dryly, inscrutable focussed on Jason. “Them going free is never a good thing. Don’t believe me, read the Titanomachy. Hesiod got it pretty close to right.”

“Could be the goal, could be the result,” Tim suggests.

“Which brings us back to possibly being on the lookout for more than one prisoner escaping Hades,” Barbara says.

“And all of that leads us to the typical ‘one shall live and one shall die’ device,” Eros concludes.

“Only we don’t know who either of those is.”

“I can tell you now if it’s a prophecy involving me, I have no intention of dying."

“If it’s even about you. It’s not really an exact science, interpreting this sort of thing,” Barbara warns. “Even an Olympian like you can misunderstand—there’s evidence of that in the myths. In fact, I’m sure we’re missing more than is good for us. It will take some time to decipher it and we need more information.”

“At least we have something,” Tim maintains. “The exact date when it’s going to happen and where. We can begin preparing for that.”

“It’s a whole hell of a lot to think about,” Jason agrees.

“Which you can do back at the Cave. We only came here to see if Eros could shed some light on the prophecy or see the arrows.”

“What arrows?”

“Wonder Girl told us that to reverse what’s been done to Nightwing is to remove the arrow that Carrie stabbed him with.”

“Uh, there is no arrow,” Jason says. “Cupid took it with her, remember?”

“I guess that answers that question,” Barbara sighs. “You can’t see them.”

“Of course he can’t,” Eros says. “I’m the only one that can see the wounds caused by my arrows. Even this pseudo-Cupid wouldn’t be able to see them.”

“After she stabbed Jason she seemed to be looking for something, so I’m not sure about that,” Tim argues.

“She can’t see them. Though it may be possible her divine passenger might. I don't know. Never had another god take my diviners before."

“Speaking of being stabbed,” Tim goes on, nodding at the bruises coming out on his face. There are likely more hidden by the leather jacket and gear. “You should get those looked at.”

“I didn’t physically get stabbed, you know. Magic wounds don’t need to be looked at.”

“You went toe-to-toe with an enhanced fighter and Batman. You could have internal bleeding for all we know.”

“If you think a little tussle with that dick is going to do lastin' damage—”

Tim cuts off his indignation. “I don’t, but you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly, and your system is already compromised, so how do you know what damage was or wasn’t done? You didn’t stay to get treated at the Cave.”

Their eyes meet, remembering exactly why that is, and Tim’s cheeks darken. Jason is the first to look away, though.

“It’s nothin'. I can patch myself up whenever.”

“I can help—”

“I’m good.”

“Jason—”

“I’m an adult and I’ve been treatin' myself without help for years now,” Jason interrupts tensely. When Tim can’t stop himself from flinching, Jason’s eyes flash with dismay. “I mean…” He flounders like he’s trying to take it back, and instead changes the subject. “Didn’t you say somethin' about a list? Maybe get started on that and I’ll do an injury check myself.”

It’s a clear cop-out, and if they were alone, Tim would be calling him on it.

“I’ll ask for help if I need any,” he adds, awkwardly, like it’s been a long time since anyone actually cared about his injuries being treated.

Barbara glances between the two of them, obviously sensing the undertone, but not commenting on it. Instead, she says, “I don’t mind helping Jason. Besides, Red Robin needs to contact the Family and let them know what we know.”

“And I need food,” Eros says. “I haven’t eaten since before you went on your little reconnaissance mission. Can’t you see? I’m wasting away.”

“If only,” Jason mutters.

Tim is torn, wanting to argue that he can help Jason, but at the same time trying to respect the other man’s obvious need for distance.

At last, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little defeated. “Let’s take a break. I’ll make a food run…you get yourself fixed up.”

“Whatever you say, babybird.”

⁂

Once Tim vanishes, Barbie indicates with a jerk of her head that Jason should follow her upstairs to the Nest medbay. He knows better than to think it’s just her wanting to take a look at his injuries—like him, she’s probably looking for some privacy.

They take the elevator up in silence, and Jason wonders vaguely when the last time was, he was this close to Barbara Gordon.

I don’t think I have been, actually. We both avoid the manor unless there’s no choice. And we both have good reasons for it. And when we are there together, there’s usually about six to ten feet of distance between us.

They were never what he would call close before she was paralyzed and he died. Barbie was Dick’s girl and Jason’s occasional babysitter until the Joker ruined her life. And then she wasn’t around at all. Jason wasn’t alive to watch her painstakingly drag herself up and pull it together again, so he never got the chance to interact with the Barbara Gordon that became Oracle.

Since returning to Gotham he’s kept her at a distance as much as he did the rest of the Family, so it’s somewhat surprising to him that she’s here now and working to help him.

Probably it’s on account of Tim.

Still silent, they enter the surgically pristine room of the Nest’s medical wing—and Jason is a little jealous of the supplies here. It makes the kits he has in his safehouses about as sophisticated as a needle and threat.

Barbie watches him, framed in the doorway.

“Well? Spit it out,” he grunts, deciding to get whatever reprimands are forthcoming out of the way.

Her look turns sharp before she reaches into her jacket pocket for something; Jason can’t help tensing up, even though she knows the likelihood of her pulling a weapon on him are slim to none.

That suspicion is confirmed when she instead draws out a device and turns it on; there’s a high-pitched background whir that Jason recognizes as a listening device scrambler.

Clearly we’re both aware of what a paranoid freak Timbers can be.

“Okay, Jason, what’s going on?” she asks without preamble. “You know Tim only wants to help you.”

“Yeah, at his own expense,” he retorts sourly.

Barbies raises an eyebrow as if waiting for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she presses, “You’re being cagey. And it’s more than just worrying about losing control around Tim, I can tell.”

“Oh you can, can you?” he challenges.

“I’ve known you since you were still desperately trying to live up to Dick while pretending like you didn’t care. I know when you’re hiding something,” she folds her arms. “Believe it or not, Jason, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to things that matter.”

It’s reflex to want to say something caustic to that, but he stops himself in time. He needs Barbara’s help and pissing her off isn’t going to make his life any easier.

“I need a favor,” he admits after a beat.

“Another one?” she repeats, sounding like she doesn’t believe him. “You’re going to owe me a lot.”

“Yeah, well, now would be the time to collect on those debts while I still can.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means everyone else is tiptoein' around the subject, but at some point, I’m gonna need to be put under,” he says, erring on the side of just enough truth to keep her from questioning him further. “We both know what I’m talkin' about here.”

As expected, Barbara only just keeps herself from visibly recoiling; she’s already ready with an argument. “You don’t know we won’t find something before that happens.”

“I’m already feelin' like I’m livin' in someone else’s skin—” Literally, in a way. “—I’m not gonna get any better than I am right now. We’ve already seen what it looks like when I dip toward worse. So while I’m still lucid, let me make my decisions. And my decision is, I’d rather go under while I’m still me instead of violent, mindless…reaver.”

Barbara does a minor double-take. “Did you just make a Firefly reference?”

“It’s the last series I was watching before I died,” Jason says, a little defensive.

“I’m not judging, just surprised. Dick and Tim are usually the ones making pop-culture references to deflect. I’m not used to it from you.”

“And I’m not used to you stallin',” he counters. “You’re different from the other Bats, O. You know how to cut your losses, and you know how to make decisions when no one else wants to think about it. You get makin' the hard calls. So, I’m gonna ask you: when it comes down to a choice between me and Tim—and I mean when, not if—who do you save?”

Something like pain passes over her face, and then resolve hardens her face. “Tim.”

“Exactly,” he approves. “Because unlike me, he’s good. And smart.”

“You’re both of those things, even if you pretend like you’re not,” she protests.

“And he hasn’t committed multiple murders,” Jason continues, acting like he didn’t hear her. “Not that what I’ve done wasn’t justified. It wasn’t good, but I don’t regret it because I will go to my grave believin' sometimes that line needs to be crossed. Again. But it’s still a line Tim’s been lucky enough not to have to cross.”

She doesn’t argue with him, instead inclines her head.

“More people will miss him if he were gone then they would me,” Jason concludes. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”

There’s a long beat of measuring silence. Then, Barbara sighs. “What is it you need, Jason?”

He tilts his chin in gratitude.

“I didn’t just come here to yell at Eros,” he admits. “If Wonder Woman doesn’t show up, he’s the only one I know who has access to the stuff I need.”

“The Stygian Sleep.”

“Yeah. But it’s probably in GCPD lock-up.” He gives her a quick run-down of events, minus anything about Eros’ intentional plan to infect him. Babs listens, jaw set and eyes narrowed; given what she just said about him, she likely knows he’s not being completely truthful, but his explanation clearly holds enough water that she doesn’t call him on it.

“I’ll get someone to look into it,” she decides at last.

Which, even though he’s relieved about, he’s also suspicious.

“And by ‘look into’ you mean grab hold of and perform a million tests on it before handin' it over,” he posits.

“Just because you’re hellbent on using something that’s effectively going to kill you doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything about it first,” she says, unapologetic. “Like the prophecy, it might have clues about how to circumvent it.”

“Yeah, because we’re having so much luck with that.”

“Also, when Bruce comes to me later in a righteous fury for letting his son die a second time, I’ll be able to assure him we knew everything we did about it before making an informed decision.”

Jason doesn’t pretend to believe that’s the end of it. Barbara might be willing to humor Jason a little more than Bruce, or even Dick when he’s not compromised—she might even be a little more objective in considering things, but she’s not going to trust Jason’s plan to be the only plan. She’ll have her own contingencies, the same as any Bat.

The only difference with Babs is that once it’s over and done with, and it becomes clear there’s no saving him, she’ll have an easier time getting over it than Bruce will. And she won’t let it compromise her work.

Tim’s told Jason what Bruce and Dick were like after he died the first time, and if it happens again, Gotham needs someone competent in keeping things in check.

And Tim…

Jason’s heart thuds with guilt.

This time, Tim won’t just be sweeping in to pick up the broken pieces of Batman and Nightwing as he did as a kid. He won’t be watching it from the sidelines.

The memory hits him then. To his surprise, it’s not from Achilleus or Alexandros.

Jason hates Wayne Charity galas.

People are always staring at him, murmuring through pasted-on smiles that even if he couldn’t read lips, he would be able to hear the judgment dripping from their words. These people are so achingly dry and genteel, their teeth don’t even unclench around their vowels.

Bruce doesn’t make him come to all that many of these shindigs, thankfully; only the ones involving children’s advocacy and the like. Jason doesn’t mind those too much, considering their purpose. He just hates that even at those—like the one tonight—he’s the only kid that has to parade around in the straitjacket Alfred calls a tux.

He gets it, of course; he’s the poster-boy, the success story, a means of showing the rich snobs how well a dirty Crime Alley orphan can clean up so that they’ll open their checkbooks.

It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Except for tonight, for the first time, he noticed another kid that’s been dragged along. A tiny boy whose meticulously fitted tux still manages to look too big for him.

A man and woman who must be his parents are chatting with another couple, seemingly oblivious to the way their son is staring into the distance, a neutrally polite expression fixed on his face. He might as well be sleeping standing up, and Jason has the odd suspicion that’s by design.

That makes his mouth twitch; maybe rich kids get bored with this kind of thing too.

Jason keeps staring across the manor ballroom until the strange kid senses his gaze and looks up. He grins when the boy’s eyes widen—their color is startling, even from across the room, and they take up practically his whole face—and wonders at the sudden flood of color in his cheeks.

He’s about to motion the boy over to the edge of the reception area—hanging out with another kid, even a little one, will definitely break up the monotony of the evening—when Bruce’s hand falls hard on his shoulder.

“Time to make an exit, son,” he says, voice quiet and intense and incongruent with the false smile he’s still beaming at everyone within a ten-foot radius. From the distracted note in his words, Jason doesn’t even need to look out the window to see the signal lighting up the sky.

They meet Felipe Garzonas that night, and he doesn’t think of the boy again.

Jason shudders as the technicolor recollection fades out, his stomach twisting angrily.

He’s never made the connection between Tim and the boy at the fundraiser before. It occurs to him how stupid that was—at the same time it occurs to him that if not for that case that night, he might not have been on the outs with Bruce. He might have endured more Wayne event galas instead of limiting whatever time he was with Bruce to being Robin by night. He might have gotten to know Tim in this life, instead of dying.

He might not be in this damned predicament right now.

“Jason?”

He looks up, realizes that Barbie is watching him with concern. He is quick to revisit their conversation and mutters, “Yeah, fine. Just make sure the stuff actually makes it to me before my brain dribbles out of my head, okay?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” she replies, reaching out to turn off the scrambler device, though she continues to exude suspicion.

“All Bats are dramatic, or have you forgotten?” he quips back, offering an irreverent smirk to cover up.

“Hard to forget something you live with every day,” she returns dryly. “Now get over here and let me check you over.”

“You don’t need to,” he points out. “I’ve had worse than this, you know.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware you’ve died and come back, who hasn’t these days?” she returns. “Now, shirt off, or I’m telling Tim you didn’t do what you said you would.”

Jason glares. “This is going to become a thing, isn’t it? You people using Tim to make me do things.”

“Things that are for your own good, yes. Now strip, Todd.”

“Yes, mother…”

“You wish your mother was as cool as me.”

Which Jason can’t argue with, because she’s right; he’s had a total of three mother figures in his life (two of which he’s not sure even qualify because of how messed up they were), and none of them have been as capable or decent as Barbara Gordon.

Once he’s shrugged his top half out of the body armor and leather, she reaches for him.

Jason experiences a nauseous swoop in his stomach at the idea of anyone but Tim putting hands on him. Instantly, his hand snaps up and knocks hers back.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarls.

Barbara pulls away, watching him with a raised eyebrow and instantly Jason is overwhelmed with shame.

“Sorry,” he bites out. “I didn’t mean…”

“We can wait for Tim to get back,” she suggests, instantly understanding.

Alarms blare in his head at the thought; he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m…I’m good. Now that I’m expectin' it.”

She considers him several beats longer and then makes the next attempt to check his injuries. This time he concentrates on forcing the sick feeling away and tries to ignore how it feels like someone is rubbing sandpaper across his skin.

That’s a new symptom. Great. Because it wasn’t enough that I’ve been trying to claw my skin of myself, now other people get to do it too…

Barbara checks him over with quiet efficiency, evaluating the shallow slash between his arm and shoulder which his armor didn’t cover, as well the bruising along his hips, elbows and lower back.

“It could be worse,” she decides eventually, considering the mottled purpling across his chest. “Ribs are bruised, not broken.”

“I could've told you that…”

“And were you going to tell me about that?” she points at his shoulder and the spiderweb of gold leeching out around the long-healed-over bullet wound. From the way he’s been itching at it this past day, he doesn’t need a mirror to know it’s beginning to creep up his neck as well. “How long has it been growing like that?”

“Pretty much since I got it,” he replies.

She reaches up, brow furrowed and reaches toward one of the raised lines winding toward his chest. Again, he braces himself for the pain of the touch his body doesn’t want.

Thankfully, she barely grazes that. “You haven’t been keeping better track, have you? It might give us a more specific idea of how much time you have.”

“How so?”

“The same as any poison, I would guess. The closer it gets to your heart, the less time you have.”

He frowns. “At this point, I don’t think it even matters.”

Movement outside of the med bay window draws his attention, and he across the floor to see Tim climbing the stairs from the ground floor.

Jason is quick to grab his shirt and tug it on; it’s not something he wants to discuss with Tim just yet.

Barbara watches him, lips pursed in worry and disapproval, but he could care less about the latter. She knows his thoughts on this, and she’ll respect them.

Tim strides in and then slows like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to knock or not.

“How are you doing?” he asks, hesitant like he’s afraid expressing concern will set Jason off like a bomb.

Guilt hits him at that, but he forces himself to remain calm and blank-faced. “Fine.”

“I have to go,” Barbie announces, maneuvering her chair toward the door. “I need to go back to the Cave and check on Dick’s condition. I don’t know how long it will be before he tries to escape or pull something to keep from going nuts.”

“Also, it’d be nice if this month was one of the ones where Alfred doesn’t get knocked out,” Tim suggests with false levity.

“Or lose a hand,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Exactly. And whether he knows it or not, Feathers downstairs gave me some ideas about how to remove the arrow,” Barbie says as they leave the med bay.

“I should come with you.”

“No.” Both Barbara and Tim speak at the same time, but she’s the one that keeps talking. “You should stay here.”

“Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“I think it is,” Tim counters. “It will keep us out of everyone’s hair and they’ll know where we are.” His tone is reasonable—too reasonable; clearly Timmy has some ulterior motives.

Whether those motives are to circumvent Bruce or Jason’s plans, he doesn’t care. But one thing is for sure. “They can know where we are if we’re at the manor.”

And isn’t that a reversal—Jason being the one to insist on that?

I need to have people around because I don’t trust myself right now.

The mutinous expression is back on Tim’s face, before he visibly switches tactics.

“Okay, how about this,” he suggests, tone only a shade off exasperated. “Why don’t you go lie down somewhere and try to catch a few hours' sleep? If you’re sleeping, you’re not doing anything else, right? And then we’ll either go back to the Cave or see if anyone can be spared to chaperone here.”

“There’s no need for that,” a voice says, and they all look up to see Damian stride in still in full Robin-gear.

Tim scowls. “How did you get in here?”

“It was fairly simple,” the kid snorts. “A fish tank, Drake? Really?”

Tim looks like he wants to protest, but Jason chuckles. “It was kind of obvious, babybird.”

“You can barely take care of yourself, and you expect someone with a brain to believe you have the patience to care for fish?” the boy continues. “Exactly who do you think has been feeding them when you forget?”

Tim gapes. “You…break into my apartment…to feed my fish?”

Jason can’t help the loud guffaw that escapes at that, earning two equally unimpressed glares in return. He doesn’t care—that might be the funniest thing he’s heard in days.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Barbara says and wheels out of the room. “Try not to kill each other, boys. Alfred would be unhappy about it.”

“Luckily, we are standing in a well-stocked room with several methods for resuscitating a dead body,” Damian replies easily.

“Don’t you have school?” Tim grumbles.

“It’s Sunday, Drake.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I have been sent to babysit you two and put Todd down with extreme prejudice should he try anything.

Which Tim gapes and, while Jason is…kind of relieved about.

“Aw, Dami, I knew you cared,” he teases.

“Don’t address me with that infantile drivel!”

Tim sighs.

“Just don’t set anything on fire while you’re here…”

⁂⁂⁂

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

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iheardarumorxxx · 4 years

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Midnight Sun, Chapter 5 - Invitations

This chapter opens up with Weirdo doing what he does best, whining.

In particular, he’s whining this time about how school is hell. Oh, it’s not boring anymore, not just a coma that he has to suffer through to appear normal, but actual genuine hell. He has to be around Bella all the time, you see. He has to exist in the same space as her and it is just misery and woe.

Except, and this is a point that I was going to make back in chapter one when Jasper was doing his freaky little spazz thing about all the tasty good hoomans around them, the Cullens don’t actually HAVE to suffer through the inane slog of Forks High. Think about it for a second. As far as anyone in town knows, Carlisle is a respected doctor (Dr. Kevorkian, but so far he hasn’t been that bad here), and Esme is a soft delicate happy homemaker mama. So why the fuck do they bother going to the public high school? Why would it be out of the realm of posibility to say that Esme home-schools the kids? It keeps them away from the teenagers who could be in very real danger having a bunch of Pire classmates, and it literally leaves them to their own devices. If they wanna spend a week up in Alaska (Weirdo) then no one is going to be the wiser, because they live on the edge of town and the only one with any actual ties to the community at large is Dr, Carlisle.

Maybe they do it because they get bored just being around one another all the time. But everything we’ve seen in the text tells us that even at school, they only hang out with each other and go out of their way to avoid the rest of the school population. It tracks as yet another selfish thing that the Cullens are doing, putting the teenagers of Forks High at risk because they wanna go to normal school, even though they don’t have to.

I’m not even a paragraph in and I just ranted for two. This chapter recap might be a long one, guys.

I'd comforted myself with the fact that her pain would be nothing more than a pinprick - just a tiny sting of rejection - compared to mine.

This is one of those lines that SM uses to hammer home the fact that her Pires are OH SO MUCH better than you. It’s such a blatant ‘Oh, my pain and sorrow and misery is just SO BAD compared to Bella with her weak human mind and weak human emotions. She couldn’t possibly be as hurt as I, the great Edward Cullen, am.’ And it’s trash. It hasn’t been overt enough yet, but there’s still a rant coming about vampire instincts, with which I hope to point out exactly how this sentiment is wrong.

If I was destined to love her

This is one of the main reasons why I just don’t buy the love story aspect of this series. They never talk about love in anything but ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’. Love is hard work. It’s building mutual respect and trust for one another and learning little quirks and habits along the way. It’s bumpy and messy and gross and wonderful, and most of all, it’s a choice. A choice to get to know someone, to spend time with that person and understand their hopes and dreams and wants and needs and fears and all of it, but in Twilight, it feels like the choice is taken away. Alice with her magic future power divines that Weirdo and Bella are gonna be in love, and instead of Eddie boy taking note that he barely even knows Bella, and has spent the better part of the few weeks he’s had with her making wild assumptions about who she is and what she’s like, he just goes ‘Ope, well, I guess if the future says I love her, I love her’ and that’s it. And the worst part is, even after their relationship actually begins, they don’t even try to do that getting to know and trust and respect one another thing, they just flat out keep their wild assumptions about one another throughout the entire series and rely on this ever subjective future that Alice has seen.

Wow, I’m ranting a lot today in this one. I’m not even a third of the way into this chapter yet.

Who would have ever dreamed that such a generic, boring mortal could be so infuriating?

We’re shitting on Mike Newton again, and I have to point something out yet again. Eddie, baby, sweety. You are outright ignoring Bella and treating her like she doesn’t matter in the slightest to you. You stated just before this that you were going out of your way to outwardly ignore her, even while you obsess over her in your mind. You have given only the outward indication of, if not outright disdain, then at the very least indifference to this girl and yet you’re giving Mike shit for having a crush on a girl and actually fucking acting on it. He talks to her, he attempts poorly to flirt with her and ask her out, even though we all know that she’s just as obsessed with you and compares Mike to a dog (because Bella is a piece of shit, too, so at least you have that in common). So stop shitting on poor Mike, who’s only crime is liking a girl who isn’t interested in him.

He'd created a Bella in his head that didn't exist

WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU’VE FUCKING DONE, EDWARD. And honestly? Yours is even worse because you don’t even BOTHER trying to FUCKING TALK TO HER TO GET TO KNOW HER. You just spy on her conversations with other people and assume that you know everything about her! Bella goes out of her way to put on this fake little show for her classmates and lie to them about everything she feels and thinks about them, but at least they FUCKING TALK TO HER! So yeah, I agree, Mike doesn’t have the full picture of who Bella really is (and if he did, he absolutely would not still have that little crush on her because Bella is a big fucking jerk), but at least they’re MAKING THE EFFORT!

Bella was good.

This is just not true and I have four books worth of canon to prove it.

I frequently amused myself by imagining backhanding him across the room and into the far wall...

“It helps if you think of them as people.” Remember that, Eddie??? Now here’s the thing. We’ve all had those fantasies about people. Wanting to throw them across the room or punch them in the face or whatever. The difference here? Edward is well aware that his Magic Pire Strength would genuinely hurt Mike, so much so that the very next line is about how it ‘probably’ wouldn’t hurt him fatally. Meaning that Eddie is well aware that it would hurt him, probably even break a few bones, but hey, he probably won’t die! Fuck you, Edward.

For all I knew, she never thought about me at all.

Pointedly gonna look over at Twilight now and see just how fucking much Bella is obsessing over Eddie, to the point where any thought not centered around her Woobie Pire is glossed over and ignored.

Eddie is having a jealous baby fit and once again thinking about how he would just love to hurt poor Mike for having the gall and audacity to ask Bella out. I already ranted about it up there, and I’m too tired and annoyed to do it again. Just know that Edward is a fucking asshole and poor Mike doesn’t deserve any of the shit that gets forced on him in this series.

Eddie is finally paying attention to Bella again, and wondering what she’s thinking, and he does that a lot in this book. I know that it’s supposed to be because he’s relied on his shitty vampire super power for so long, but considering how often he demanded (yes, demanded) to know what she was thinking in canon, and wouldn’t let up until she caved and told him, it feels like he’s trying to monitor her thoughts. She can’t be thinking anything that Daddy Ed doesn’t approve of, after all.

I picked the correct answer out of his head

But the Cullens are just super smart and know things and definitely aren’t cheating cheaters who cheat to get perfect grades in school.

"Are you speaking to me again?"

This is a problem with this canon. These people have had TWO conversations. In one of them, it was banal and inane small talk about the fucking weather and why Bella moved to Forks, and in the other, Eddie was gaslighting her to make her think she was wrong about what happened in the Van Of Doom(tm) crash. They haven’t talked like, at all. They don’t know anything about one another besides what they’ve crafted in their own empty heads. Bella is obsessing about how Eddie must hate her and Eddie is obsessing about how this version of Bella he’s built up in his head must be so amazing and wonderful and touting about how he loves her. There isn’t love in this relationship. There isn’t even a relationship. These people are obsessed stalkers.

I managed not to laugh.

This is another example of Edward being just... the biggest fucking jerk. Clearly, Bella is upset. She’s jumped to the wrong conclusion, and assumes that Eddie just wants her to fucking die or whatever, but she’s clearly upset and annoyed and Eddie is treating her feelings like a joke. He does that so often in the series, but hearing it from his own perspective really drives it home.

Edward is being extremely shallow watching Eric and Tyler asking Bella out. He makes a rude comment about Eric’s skin (he’s a teenage boy with acne, oh GOD) and outright calls Tyler ‘average’ as if he knows anything about him. This is another problem with Ed and his magic surface thought listening power. I’ve already pointed out that he’s created this image of who Bella is in his head based on absolutely nothing, but he’s done this with everyone around him. He assumes what kind of people they are based on the very bare, surface thoughts they have. He doesn’t consider the people around him complex, because he isn’t diving into their more complex thoughts and emotions, and that’s just so gross and shitty.

How was I any better than some sick peeping tom?

We know what this is, right? We’re witnessing the birth of Eddie breaking into Bella’s house and watching her sleep. He’s once again acknowledging that he shouldn’t be doing it, and he knows that its wrong, so of course, that means he can just keep on doing it anyway.

I was not the one she was destined to say yes to.

This is such a ham-fisted attempt at keeping the ‘will they won’t they’ illusion up, because its been made so obvious from the word GO that there’s never going to be anyone else for Bella. Even the attempt at a love triangle doesn’t work in the series because SM made it so clear all throughout New Moon that Bella would never choose Jacob if Edward was a choice. Everything she did in New Moon was to keep the illusion of Edward up in her mind, and even spending time with Jacob was a means to that end goal. Its not a compelling love story because, as stated, there is no love here because they haven’t spoken to one another, but their sick, driving obsession with one another is going to guide them all the way to the end. Edward and Bella are not a good couple, and I wish very much that that line up there was the truth, and that Bella discovered who she was as a person and found someone to compliment her.

My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?

Left that full for context. This is our title drop, and as someone who has read all of Twilight, who has seen all of the horrible title drops in them, I honestly think this one might be the worst of them all. It’s just this affected way that SM writes and it really, really irks me to see it so blatantly on display combined with a ‘hee hee, Midnight Sun, get it~’ on top of it.

My self, also, had frozen as it was - my personality, my likes and my dislikes, my moods and my desires; all were fixed in place.

This has a lot of implications for the Pires that SM never even bothers to explore because she doesn’t actually realize the potential in it. According to canon, right there in that sentence, when they’re turned Pires STOP CHANGING. They don’t develop new interests or hobbies, they don’t change their taste in music, film, anything. They become truly frozen in time. That means that the Cullens should not be driving cars, or wearing the clothes that they wear. They should not have picked up all of these skills that immortality has allowed them to pick up. The should be the exact same as they were the day they were turned. There’s something really dark and genuinely heartbreaking about that, and a better author would have explored it. Unfortunately, we don’t have a better author.

if I were going to attempt any kind of relationship with her

Edward refuses to take into account that that is not solely his decision to make. Pretend for a second that Bella is a normal human with normal thoughts. All she has seen of Eddie is this hot and cold thing were he does a nice thing or has a nice conversation with her and then ices her out for days and weeks at a time. He is, by all accounts, a total jerk and kind of a weirdo. Why the hell would she (again, if she were a normal, rational person) want a relationship with him?

Strange, unfamiliar reactions stirred deep in my forgotten human core.

AKA, Eddie just felt the first stirrings of being a horny teenage boy. Gross.

The chapter ends on Eddie asking Bella to let him drive her to Seattle. I know I’ve already made this point, but if Bella were a normal teenage girl experiencing all of this shit from Eddie, she would have absolutely laughed in his face and told him to go fuck himself on a cactus or something. He’s proven to be volitale, rude, condescending, and just an outright jerk. There is no reason a sane, rational person would want to go anywhere with him. Would want to spend any time alone with him. If anything, Bella should be thinking that Eddie wants to get her alone to murder her or something based on the way he’s acting. It’s creepy and weird. Bella, unfortunately, eats this shit up and is so excited about her date with him.

That’s it. Chapter over. Sorry this was such a long one, folks, but I’m not sure they’re gonna get any shorter. This story makes me angry, and when I get angry, I rant. Feel free to reach out in messages or DMs if you wanna chat more about this book or offer suggestions for the next one I should do after I finally put this one to bed.

You can also buy me a snack if you want, I have my CashApp tag in my bio. Until next time.

#sierra recaps stuff #midnight sun #midnight sun spoilers #ms chapter 5 #long post

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somniumoflight · 4 years

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Crossover Idea #7 – Hollow Knight and Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Tsuna is pseudo-adopted by the Grimm Troupe

Okay so like, hear me out here. Tsuna and the Grimmchild. Tell me them being buddies and getting into shenanigans wouldn’t be cute, I dare you.

In all seriousness, though, there’s more to the idea than that.

So, what I’m thinking in terms of backstory here for this world is as follows – a long time ago, the world was more or less as we see in Hollow Knight, with great big wastelands between kingdoms that stripped travelers of their memories (and also of their minds, as per one of my headcanons) and gods maintaining the kingdoms that served as bastions from the Wastes. Despite being basically an apocalyptic wasteland with the occasional oasis for people to live in, the world wasn’t actually dying. Kingdoms, yes, but not the world itself, and it could have lasted for a long time so long as there were gods around. However, this is where Kawahira’s people came in – their people were dying due to having no gods to maintain their kingdoms properly, and in an effort to save themselves they created the Tri-Ni-Sette as a replacement. Thing is, it worked a little too well, and its effects actually covered the entire world. While this meant that mortal life could flourish, the actual gods began to slip into obscurity – they’re still around, but far less important and powerful, and no longer necessary for maintaining life.

Now, fast-forward about 30,000 years. Humanity has flourished and taken over most of the known world, though there’s still a small continent unexplored due to several bug gods banding together and creating treacherous storms in order to protect their kingdoms from being colonized. The Tri-Ni-Sette is deteriorating, threatening the reappearance of the Wastelands, thus the need for the Arcobaleno. However, most humans aren’t aware of this, save for the Arcobaleno themselves, and so they live in peaceful bliss. However, the remaining bugs are all too aware of the Tri-Nii-Sette’s deterioration eventually bringing back the Wastelands, and their remaining gods have banded together to prepare. Amongst one of these gods is Grimm, the Nightmare King and Master of the Grimm Troupe, who is one of the only gods (save for the Radiance and the Vessels, yes they exist too) who risks traveling through dreams to human continents. He and his troupe travel from place to place, hidden as an eccentric and spooky human circus instead of the bugs they really are, drifting from town to town to gather Essence in preparation for the return of the Wastelands.

It’s during one of these trips overseas that they end up in Namimori, maybe two years after Tsuna’s Flames are sealed by Nonno and Idiotsu (Iemitsu). The little Sky accidentally stumbles across their tents while trying to escape from his bullies, and though he is at first frightened by them (to be fair the Troupe IS pretty spooky and they throw fire around) they’re also a hell of a lot nicer to him than humans are and he’s quick to warm up to him. The reverse is also true, and so while the troupe eventually leaves town, as they must do, they promise to visit again and the latest Grimmchild is left in Tsuna’s care both as a friend and to continue gathering Essence from Namimori.

Combining the Grimmchild, who is literally a fireball-spitting baby, with the sheer number of shenanigans that go on in KHR canon quickly sends canon tumbling off-track at break-neck speeds, while creating new shenanigans for Tsuna to deal with at a much younger age.

Details for this fic include:

The Grimm Troupe isn’t just made up of Grimm, the Grimmkin, Brumm and Divine – there are several Vessels in the Troupe as well who decided to come along with him and be part of the troupe (because even in a world where all bug gods are united under one goal, the Pale King is still a terrible father.) Amongst them is Ghost and “Pure,” aka baby Hollow Knight that was never actually used to seal the Radiance and is thus more or less fine, because the Vessels deserve good lives damn it.

The Vessels Do Not Understand People for the most part – emotions are hard for them. They all like Tsuna though, and basically adopt him as another Sibling along with Grimmsmol.

The Grimm Troupe knows about Tsuna’s Seal immediately upon meeting him thanks to nightmare-god-voodoo tricks, basically. However, the lack of Flames doesn’t bother them, because unlike humans, who all have at least dormant Flames, Bugs don’t naturally have Dying Will Flames.

This whole “all humans have Flames” thing is the source of Tsuna’s abuse by Namimori post-Sealing, though – he feels “empty” to them and instinctively they all hate that. So Grimm, being a literal god albeit a weakened one, uses his own nightmare flames to start burning the Seal away a little bit at a time. They’re just similar enough to Sky Flames that he can sort of get away with it without causing permanent damage so long as he’s careful, but due to the nature of his own fire Tsuna’s get a little… eldritch when he’s finally able to use them again.

Eldritch as in his Flames can now burn Essence and are made stronger every time they do so, and they feel really weird to normal Flame-Actives. And may or may not cause nightmares in people they’re not compatible with. It doesn’t help with human people in Naminori not liking him anymore, but hey, at least now the bullies leave him alone!

Tsuna, being an impressionable kid, starts emulating the Troupe after they’ve helped him. He may or may not wear all red and black, and try to take dancing lessons after school. He also may or may not be given a Grimm Troupe mask at some point and it sort of becomes his security blanket even when he’s not wearing it.

The Grimmchild is a grade A Accidental Troublemaker. They’re old enough to be able to spit fire, but not old enough to know how to control it properly, so they catch a lot of things on fire when excited, or mad, or just in general, and usually by accident. It happens so often that spontaneous combustion around town barely makes anyone bat an eye after a few years.

They start doing it on purpose as they get older though, mostly because some of Tsuna’s bullies can’t take a hint and need to be scared off sometimes until they smarten up finally and leave him alone.

Grimmsmol may or may not accidentally smack into babby Hibari while flying one night and catch the carnivore’s attention as a “baby carnivore.” Hibari ends up actually helping gather Essence with Tsuna and Spooky Junior early on, which leads to him both going Active due to a particularly nasty restless ghost (which is where they get Essence from in the first place) and him ending up with a little bit of nightmare in his Flames as well… not that he needs them much, haha.

Something similar may or may not end up happening with Chrome (and later Mukuro, who escapes the Vindice earlier than canon to go to Namimori at Chrome’s suggestion), Takeshi, and also Ryohei (he thinks the little hellbat baby is EXTREME, enough said.) Basically all Tsuna’s Elements end up with the nightmare flames thing going on to a degree.

The first time Tsuna’s new friends meet Grimm, they all basically decide we want to be like you. Yes, even Hibari, though he’s more focused on the whole super-powerful fireball-throwing “carnivore” thing than the oh my god you’re so cool/extreme sentiments the rest of them have.

Grimm ends up teaching them all how to “dance,” aka they all end up acrobatic fire-throwing fighter, though they each end up developing their own “dancing” style at his insistence.

The little differences all start stacking up until by the time Reborn arrives in Namimori, Tsuna’s Seal is already broken, he has four out of six element bonds, their flames are all slightly infused with nightmares due to proximity to Grimm Jr. and the Troupe, all five of them are already budding badasses due to Grimm’s lessons and them practicing when he’s not in town, and all of them are slightly creepy to everyone not in their circle.

Funnily enough, this Tsuna isn’t so reluctant about being a Mafia Boss, and Reborn is a lot more reluctant to teach the kid. Tsuna figures that being a Mafia Boss would let him help the Troupe gather Essence more easily, since he’d have a lot more power and would know more about where all the gruesome deaths that create the Ghosts that create Essence in the first place would be. Reborn, on the other hand, is unnerved by Tsuna and Co’s weird Flames and their eagerness to become Mafioso, and their calmness when confronted with death, which isn’t normal for civilians. Hibari he can understand, he’s Fon’s nephew and technically already part of the underworld, but the rest of them? He’s actually pretty sure he’s accidentally discovered actual demons in disguise, which is pretty funny actually since he’s technically still more dangerous than all of them.

Reborn does end up in the Tsuna and Co. bandwagon eventually though, because once he knows the full reasons why they wanna be in the Mafia, and he sees the sheer chaos potential of the group (Grimmchild included), he’s all for training these little demons. (And all for meeting Grimm because hey, actual god that can burn away Flame Seals without having Flames – maybe he has some insight into how to break the Arcobaleno curse?)

Bonus: Hayato is thrilled when he ends up being called in, not just because he has a chance to fulfill his dream but also because his future Boss is literally friends with a baby UMA and the baby UMA’s parents and family. That and the Grimmchild really doesn’t like Bianca and is perfectly willing to try to catch her on fire when she’s nearby.

Good god that’s a lot of text. Uh, whoops?

#crossover ideas #hollow knight #katekyo hitman reborn #tsuna is pseudo-adopted by the grimm troupe and is buddies with the Grimmchild #this got out of hand really fast #so par for the course for KHR lol #Tsuna meets the Grimm Troupe while just a kid and the grimmchild is left in his care for a while because the troupe got attached #Grimmchild is a grade-A Accidental Troublemaker #Grimmchild is also adorable and so usually gets away with it #Tsuna and Co. all end up basically sort of being members of the Troupe because they all sort of have nightmare-influenced Flames #Tsuna has a big Bug family and it's better than his actual family #look nana's nice enough but she's not exactly the best mother #im probably going to dabble with this idea a little more #i love hollow knight what can i say

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coeurvrai · 5 years

Text

It’s a new day, and I am 16 pages away from being a third of the way through the book. Let’s get back to it, shall we?

Moving past that entirely confusing scene of him having an iron spike push out of his skin and then using as a projectile to hurt one of the Vulture’s, Nadya’s has a Moment:

Watching this boy whom she had just witnessed become something horrific, this boy who had appeared so untouchable, be shaken to his core and worn to his limits made her contemplate doing something unthinkable. Nadya had her beliefs that she would never forfeit, but she also understood the necessity for self-preservation. She had to stay alive to be any good for her country.

This is walking a dangerous line.

Does Nadya understand the necessity for self-preservation? Cause I have serious doubts about that. This is a girl that, instead of staying in the back of the church and praying and be prepared to escape if the monastery can’t fight the blood mages off because she’s that important and she NEEDS to stay alive for the sake of ending the war, decides instead to say “fuck that” and goes directly to the thick it of for the sake of proving she is a heroic Strong Female Character.

Then’s the whole thing in which she went with Malachiasz, Parijahan, and Rashid despite explicitly saying she doesn’t trust them and is suspicious of them (especially Malachiasz) because they just are like “lol we wanna kill a king”.

Nadya was no longer in the monastery; she had to make her own choices.

She’s a Strong Independent Woman now! She’s that Ne-Yo song personified!

Nadya basically is like “so... can you use other people for blood magic” (yes, Nadya, this has already been stated in text by YOU) and Malachiasz is like “yeahhhh but we don’t usually do it” and Nadya is basically like “use mine” even though isn’t that one of the SPECIFIC things you were like “i’d die before i’d let them use me” like bitch what, i know this is a life or death situation and we don’t necessarily keep our word when it comes to mortal danger but lmao

Would she make a dangerous exception of her own principles for the safety of her friend, the only one left, and two potential allies? For the possibility that this ragtag group could turn the war?

Oh great, they’ve progressed to “potential allies”. Also isn’t Anna not only your friend but your superior, even if you’re not within the confines of the monastery? You said in the first chapter that since she was a priestess or whatever, she was ranked higher and you had to listen to her orders. Whatever happened to that? If they had explicitly had a scene where it’s like “hierarchy doesn’t matter now, we’re equals now out here” then I wouldn’t be bringing this up.

Swallowing hard, she rolled her sleeve back and held her forearm out to him.

He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. His iron claw was a shard of ice dragging down her skin, parting her flesh. Her breath swept out of her and she prayed she would not live to regret this. She watched with her heart in her throat as the cut welled crimson.

Blood was not to be spilled for the sake of power. Magic was a divine appointment from the gods. But here her gods-given magic was useless. Doing this one unspeakable thing would keep her alive, keep those she needed to protect alive. She couldn’t destroy these monsters if she died.

“divine magic” “gods-given magic” I’m a genius predictor! Maybe I am blessed by Bozidarka myself???? lol

“She couldn’t destroy these monsters if she died” Bro you can’t destroy these monsters now, what’s latter gonna make a difference??? Even if you kill the king, that’s not going to solve the Vulture problem. They aren’t like y’know bound to the king or whatever by magic or principle (that’d make more sense if they were actual creatures, rather blood cultists), they just nominally are.

She snapped his grip off, flipping it so her hand was clenched around his forearm. “I don’t know what you are,” she said slowly. “But I swear by the gods, if you use this against me it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Nice threat, wish I could believe it. Also “I don’t know what you are” he is a Tranavian blood mage and “former” Vulture, he’s already told you this and I don’t know how you aren’t wrapping this around your platinum blonde head. It’s not like you’ve ever doubted his words for reals.

#sarah reads ws

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yohanes-magic-circle · 5 years

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Idol Distractions

(This is also on AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there. Hope you enjoy this light and fluffy YohaMaru one-shot!)

“Wow, there’s so many… I don’t know how you go finishin’ all of these.”

“I haven’t finished them all. Honestly, I haven't even played them all. I used to get through everything, but now I have practice after school, I’m falling behind.”

Hanamaru continued looking through the games on Yoshiko’s shelf, occasionally picking out one that she liked the sound of and looking at the cover art. “Ain’t that a problem?”

“I don’t mind,” Yoshiko replied. “I used to play so much because I didn’t have anything else to do. Back in middle school, I didn’t really… I wasn’t popular.”

“Oh…”

“It’s okay. I mean, sometimes I’ve got people to play with now!”

“Yeah. I won’t be any good, though,” Hanamaru fretted.

“You’ve got as much chance as any mortal when faced with the unholy gaming powers of Yohane!”

Hanamaru briefly turned to stick her tongue out at the fallen angel, before going back to browsing the shelves. “This is weird, zura. When I normally look at someone else’s shelves they’re full of books, and I can get talkin’ about the ones I know. But I don’t really know any games…”

“It doesn’t really matter what you pick – I can show you how to play it. Just go for whatever you like.”

At that point, Hanamaru picked up something that caught her eye – a largely white box, with colourful shapes and lots of English text, and a cute blue animal on the front. “Can we play this one?”

Trust you, Zuramaru, thought Yoshiko. She wasn’t going to refuse her, of course. “Sure, I’ll just have to set up the machine.” Yoshiko went over to the cupboard and came back with a dusty box, from which she pulled out a black machine and a couple of black controllers. She struggled to get it to work with her TV briefly, and was about to give up when she saw the screen fade to black, then turn white.

“Se~ga!” rang out the sound from the TV.

“Wooooow! Mirai zura!”

“It’s not the future, Zuramaru,” laughed Yoshiko. “This thing was my dad’s. It’s older than we are, they stopped making them before we were born.” Still, Yoshiko couldn’t help but smile as she saw the sparkle in Hanamaru’s eyes. She kind of wished she had the same sense of constant wonder at the modern world – to be totally fascinated by things most people found mundane.

“Yoshiko, what were we studyin’ in history class earlier?”

“Ancient Egypt,” replied Yoshiko.

“And how long ago did Ramesses rule?”

“About 3,000 years ago. What’s your point?”

“How old is that games machine?”

“Uh, I think it’s about 30 years old.”

“So people have been around for thousands of years without this, and we’re lucky enough to live in a time when it exists? Mirai, zura.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Yoshiko conceded, considering that perhaps their outlooks on the world were both strange. “So this one’s really easy to play – that little guy is Sonic, and he’s got to run along to the right. If you press any of the buttons, he’ll jump.”

“Okay! So I press this one an’… oh hey, is that a friend?”

“Zuramaru, no–!”

“Aaaah! What happened?”

“Sorry, I really should have explained that better. You ran into a bad guy.”

“So that’s it?” asked Hanamaru, sadly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get another try. Just try to grab those spinning rings you see, they’ll protect you if you get hit. And when you see any of those robots, just jump on top of them.”

“Okay! So I run this way… zura?! Was that an animal in there?”

Hanamaru guided Sonic through the dangers of Green Hill Zone’s first act safely, albeit considerably slower than it could have been done. Yoshiko spent more time watching Maru’s face than the screen – she was so cute when she scrunched her face up in concentration, and even cuter when she panicked at Sonic’s speed through the tunnels.

“Hey, pass me the controller,” said Yoshiko as the second stage began. “I’m gonna show you a secret.” Within seconds, Sonic was smashing through a wall. Hanamaru asked how to do a roll on the ground, and then spent the rest of the stage rolling into every single wall she could find to see if it would break. She kept doing it in the third stage and was thrilled when she finally found one, even if it took a couple of attempts to break all the way through. It was a performance befitting an amateur gamer, but she was having a good time. Finally, she reached the last part of Green Hill Zone.

“Yoshiko! Who’s that?!” asked Hanamaru anxiously, as a man in a flying machine entered the screen with a huge wrecking ball.

“That’s Eggman, he’s the villain who put all the animals in the robots.”

“He’s scarin’ me. You fight him!”

Yoshiko had no choice as the pad was thrust into her hands before she could so much as utter a word of encouragement, she made quick work of the simple boss. “Hey, do you wanna play a game together? I’ve got Sonic 2, it’s just like this but we can both play.”

“Okay! But how do we both be Sonic?”

“No, he’s got a little friend called Tails in this game. We can play together, or race against each other.”

“Oooh, can we race? Let’s race!” Hanamaru practically bounced up and down on the spot with excitement.

“Very well. But know that when you challenge Yohane, your fate is determined before you even press the start button!”

Hanamaru brushed off Yoshiko’s theatrics, instead focusing on the orange fox on screen. “Cute, zura! Can I play as him?”

“You’ll be Tails, yeah. He’s on the bottom bit of the screen. Oh yeah, so you should know, it’s not just finishing first that counts here. If you smash bad guys and TVs, and collect rings, they’ll help you win too.”

“I see…”

The stage started, and Tails started to walk away, only for Sonic to roll right past at a terrifying speed. “Are you cheatin’, Yoshiko?” said Hanamaru, putting on a pout. “Oh yeah, you can do that in this game,” Yoshiko said, only half apologetically. “If you hold down and press jump, you can charge up a spin and shoot off. You’ve gotta go fast, Zuramaru.”

Although Yoshiko wasn’t particularly familiar with the game, years of practice allowed her to tackle the stage with ease. Hanamaru hung back as Yoshiko sped through, knowing that she couldn’t compete in that way – instead she made sure to collect rings and break item boxes, hoping to win on those fronts. Yoshiko saw that she was doing this and tried to break a monitor herself, but everything suddenly went white…

“Z-zura? I won?!”

Yohane’s curse had struck again. The random item in the box was a teleport, placing Hanamaru right next to the finish line and Yoshiko right back near the start of the stage. Suddenly, she had seconds to make it back through the stage and grab as much as she could along the way. But she’d largely ignored rings and items in her earlier haste – could she pull it back?

Nope. There it was, plain as day.

“2P WINS”

“Wow, I’ve never won at one of these before! I thought you said you played these games a lot, Yoshiko?” Hanamaru couldn’t resist poking a little bit of fun at her friend, though in truth she didn’t quite understand how everything had just happened. “Do not be mistaken! Your victory was a matter of divine intervention,” Yoshiko responded, trying to save face. “Shall we play another round?” Hanamaru shook her head. “I think I’m retirin’ while I’m still undefeated. Besides, I was startin’ to wonder if we could get a drink.”

The two girls headed to the kitchen, and Yoshiko began to pick through the cupboard. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, I never got why everyone’s drinkin’ it all the time. It’s so bitter. I’d be happy with a glass of water, please.”

“Fancy, but I’ll push the boat out just for you,” Yoshiko confirmed with a wink, as she started boiling the kettle for her own coffee.

“You know, I’m really glad we could hang out like this.”

“Yeah, I’m having fun too,” said Yoshiko as she put down Hanamaru’s glass.

“No, I mean – what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m pleased I could visit your home.”

“Oh, and why would that be?”

“Well, the temple… we don’t have video games or nothin’ like that at my place,” said Hanamaru. She let out a big sigh. “You’d be bored if you visited me.”

“Hanamaru, are you kidding me?” Yoshiko asked with unusual gravitas. “Do you really think I mind where he hang out?”

“Zura?”

Yoshiko decided it was time to use one of Hanamaru’s own tricks. “Where did we meet up before we come here today?”

“In the library,” she responded.”

“And how often have we hung out there?”

“I don’t know… I think I’d have lost count even if I was tryin’ to remember.”

“Now,” said Yoshiko with complete confidence, “how many times have you just walked in and found me there?”

“That never happ– oh…”

“Right. It doesn’t matter so much where we are, because what I’m interested in doing is spending time with you. And you’re not so into games, right?”

Hanamaru took a long sip from her glass. “Yeah. I know you love ’em though, so I like to make an effort.”

“Do you want to stop playing for the night, then? I’m happy to just chat like this.”

“No, just… is there an easy game we could try? One with a lotta story, where you don't have to do too much?”

“That’s a movie, Zuramaru,” Yoshiko joked. She was definitely an action gamer at heart, particularly racing games. “But now I think of it, there might be something…”

As the girls headed back to Yoshiko’s room, Yoshiko tried to think of a suitable game to put on. She didn’t have many visual novels. Well, there was that one she'd been playing that Riko had recommended… No! Yoshiko didn’t want to come across as weird. Honestly, Mari had never hidden her thirst, but Riko was a surprise. Who’d have thought that Yohane would be the purest member of Guilty Kiss?

“Whatcha thinkin’, Yoshiko?”

“A-ahhh haha… nothing!” Yoshiko had gotten wrapped up and totally missed the development of that awkward silence. “Hey, I haven’t started this one yet. Shall we try it? It’s a bit sci-fi but it’s more or less the sort of game you wanted.”

“Looks good, zura,” Hanamaru confirmed. “Hey, would you mind if I rested my head on your shoulder while we read it? I’m not used to stayin’ up so late.”

“S-sure,” said Yoshiko, turning her rapidly reddening face towards the wall as the game loaded.

The game began, and the player character started ranting about being a mad scientist chased by some organisation. “Hey, this guy’s funny,” said Hanamaru, giving Yoshiko a little nudge. “He kind of reminds me of you.” Hanamaru meant it affectionately, so it was fortunate that she didn’t turn her head – or else she’d have seen Yoshiko’s accusatory glare. Yohane was nothing like Hououin Kyouma! “The girl’s cute, though.”

“Right? She’s sweet and innocent… Really, I quite like characters like that.”

Hanamaru just gave a contented little “Mm” as the story continued apace. The characters went to get capsule toys on the way to some scientific press conference, then argued with a teenage genius, only to find her dead minutes later. “Hey, Zuramaru, let me know if you get scared, alright?” No response.

Yoshiko looked down to see Hanamaru softly sleeping, still propped up against her for comfort. Clearly, she hadn’t been kidding about not being used to late nights. But they’d had a fun night together, and besides, she looked so cute that Yoshiko could hardly be mad. She turned the console off and switched over to the TV, then carefully shifted to a more comfortable position.

This, she thought to herself, was something she could get used to.

#love live sunshine #yohamaru #yoshimaru #yoshiko tsushima #hanamaru kunikida #zuramaru #yohane #fluff

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