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fandom-trash-xl · 2 years

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Angst One-Shot: Red Like Roses

I decided while I was working on a few other things that I might as well post one of the little one-shots I had written in my lore notes. While I simply love the strangely wholesome vibe of post-ToP Kuriza, I decided to experiment with the angst possibilities of Kuriza earlier in the timeline.

A few TWs, since this does delve into angst: TW// Blood, emetophobia, character death

Timeline Placement(s): Age 762 , Age 764 (The Namek Arc and Trunks Arcs respectively)

AGE 762

After hearing word of the wish-granting Dragon Balls on the planet Namek, adding that planet to his personal collection became Frieza’s top priority. Not only was the location rather backwater and easily free for development, but the magic seemingly present in its core was a major selling point- able to fulfill his wildest fantasies, even as far as evading death itself.

While he was eager to get started on this project right away, a few loose ends needed to be tied. This conquest would surely take a great portion of his time until the Namekians’ magic relics were in his hands and their land was surrendered to his domain, which meant another matter would need to be temporarily redelegated to another’s care- this matter wasn’t an item but, rather, a someone.

The emperor’s son of eight years, Kuriza, was- Frieza unable to find a way to put it more delicately- a fortunate accident. He was the result of an incident he’d rather erase from his mind- a rather stressful evening during which he had quite too much to drink, wine-wise, and, in his drunk mind, the courtesan he initially wanted little to do with (a gift from his father that he never wanted) was suddenly more appetizing than ever… and months later came the resultant bastard. However, he kept the boy long after he dismissed the mother, being his worthy heir, inheriting his mutant genetics and up and coming power level.

As Frieza was making said preparations, Kuriza himself entered the main hall, where his father was pacing, seemingly talking to himself. A glance at the side of his face determined it wasn’t insanity but, instead, communications via scouter.

“Yes, Papa, I know it’s a lot of time to put aside for one planet but I believe this will be a prosperous asset to acquire, even if I do have to step in myself. The payoff outweighs the losses here.” There was a pause, likely time for the reply, as Frieza nodded. “Of course. Also, would Berryblue happen to still be in your jurisdiction on your ship? She is? Yes, for Kuriza, obviously. You’ll send an escort for him now? Much obliged, Papa.”

Just as Frieza clicked off the scouter call, a call of ‘Papa!’, now in reference to him rather than his own father, caught his attention, tracing the source back to the small statured child entering. The burgundy gem on his head pointed up like a chestnut and a navy cape, the bulk of it fluffed up around his shoulders, covered a ruby-colored chestplate of armor.

“Ah, Kuriza. Impeccable timing.”

“I just got done showing Mister Zarbon my Death Beam! I’ve gotten so much better at aiming. Would you like to see, Papa?” The boy already had his finger pre-pointed, eager to show off his trick.

“As much as I’d love to, I’m afraid it is not quite the right time. Besides, there aren’t really any suitable targets for you to hit, now are there?”

“I guess not…” Kuriza sighed a bit disappointed, but quickly perked back up. “By the way, Papa, who were you calling on your scouter? Was it your Papa?”

“Yes, it was. With this next planet I’m buying, I have to step in myself for a few days or so, so I’m trading you over to another ship so someone else can watch you. You remember Miss Berryblue right? She took care of you when you were smaller?”

“Yes~! Mama Berryblue!” While he now knew that the nursemaid was not his actual mother, as much as she played that figure, the title still somewhat stuck.

“Yes, yes, of course. In due time, some of your grandfather’s men will come to escort you to his ship. Miss Berryblue will watch over you and, if he gets the free time, you can show Grandpapa Cold how you’re progressing on your Death Beam. Does that sound good? Can you promise to be a good boy for your Grandpapa while I'm gone?”

“I promise, Papa!”

“And when I come back, I’ll be sure to have a cracked wine glass for you to use for target practice. I can’t wait to see your progress~”

“Really?!” Kuriza’s tail batted giddily.

“Of course, my little chestnut.” Frieza’s tail draped along his son’s shoulders as he knelt down to the boy’s height, planting a small parental peck on the surface of his biogem. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. Papa will be back~”

It had been about a week since Frieza had left to conquer Namek, leaving his son under King Cold’s watchful eye. Kuriza had gotten rather anxious waiting for his father’s return, but he decided not to let it bother him too much. He had been taught plenty of times that, sometimes, work took longer than expected. The assurance that Papa would be back was what kept him going.

Cold had no formal accommodations for his grandson’s visitation, so the young boy’s bed was temporarily a plush footstool that happened to meet his length and a spare velveteen blanket, sat at the foot of the much grander bed of his grandfather. Of course, when, busy with work, Cold came back to his chambers late, which was often, Kuriza had free reign over the larger mattress- plenty of room for him, as the bedding was built for an eight-foot titan of a man.

Today, in particular, Kuriza had slept in rather late, but Cold had not been back once to move him, as he was still cocooning himself in oversized royal linens. Sluggishly opening his eyes, he fully lurched awake after hearing an uproar of commotion from outside the door. He quickly reclaimed his armor and cape and dressed himself before cautiously slipping out to investigate the ruckus.

The sudden panic was even louder outside, countless crew members in a frenzy over something- he could make out a few words, though most jumbled together. There was mention of something they had recovered from the nearby expanse of space…? Soon, the answer came whisking past him, Kuriza flinching back to the wall to let the clamor pass. A few medics were flocked around the gurney they were frantically wheeling through the hall. The boy couldn’t make out much of the scene, the object on top of the cart covered by a white sheet, slowly tainted by gushes of crimson blood. One part had been carelessly left uncovered- a white arm with a cracked violet gem at the wrist, slightly painted with bloody residue, dangling from the gurney’s side. As if there were any doubt that there was a person under that sheet, there was an almost muffled moan of pain coming from it. There were a few stray mentions of his father’s name, but nothing seemed to click, any connecting sentence frantically talked over.

What was going on?

His first instinct was to go to Berryblue- she likely knew what was happening and was readily available to him. He found her not far down the hallway, having to every so often go flat against the wall to dodge rushing soldiers. The caretaker seemed just as equally flustered, almost scared, seemingly more so when the child drew her attention. “Mama Berryblue?”

“Oh! Lord Kuriza! I didn’t see you there. Is something the matter?”

“I was just wondering what was going on. I just woke up to everyone panicking. What’s happening?! What’s wrong?!” There was a touch of worry in his tone, the aura of concern and frenzy in the air contagious.

“Oh…” Berryblue hesitated, avoiding eye contact. “Well, I’m not quite sure myself. Perhaps in time we’ll get a better grasp of the situation.” In hindsight, she was lying, but Kuriza couldn’t tell.

“Alright… Thank you.” Kuriza sighed but the concern didn’t vanish. He strode off, Berryblue sighing as well, in her case, in relief that she got out of answering such a question. Little did she know, he wasn’t leaving the hall satisfied with the answer, but rather to seek a second opinion.

King Cold, already an irate and stern emperor, had gone the furthest into madness out of all of his men combined. He was practically gritting his teeth as he paced along the observation deck looking over a white-lit operation room, every so often pausing to stubbornly bark at the medics down below from beyond the glass. “If there’s a single scalpel out of place, it’ll be someone’s skull beneath my foot!!”

His angered lecturing was soon cut off by a tugging sensation on the length of his tail, causing him to bare his teeth in further frustration. “What is so important that you have the audacity to-?! When he turned to glare at the source, he found no minion, but rather the worried beady eyes of his grandson, desperate for his attention. His expression softened ever so slightly. “Ah, Kuriza, my boy. Why are you not with your supervisor? Grandpapa’s a bit busy, so I can’t exactly play with you right now-”

Kuriza cut him off. “Grandpapa? I don’t know what’s going on and I’m starting to get a bit scared! Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“Very well then. If you want to know…”

“Berryblue!”

King Cold’s thundering call could be heard loud and clear, quickly summoning the nursemaid into the room. She was already in a cold sweat from the situation unfolding around; Now her angered king wanted her presence.

“Yes, my king? Of what service can I be…?” She trailed off as, raising from her bow, she took in the state of the scene. Cold was kneeled to a lower, yet still rather high up, level and, lying on his side on the ground in front of his grandfather was Kuriza, trembling significantly and whimpering.

“I broke the kid. Fix him.”

As Berryblue nodded, silently contemplating how the king had managed two children previously, she approached Kuriza’s side, taking his hand to help him upright. “Shh~shh~ It’s alright, my little lord, it’s alright~ Come here…” She purred in maternal softness.

Kuriza clung to her in an instant, the nursemaid trying her best to wrap him in an embrace- a feat made difficult as he had grown taller than her since the last time she needed to do this. The lizard was full of whimpers and squeak-like whining, but no tears, although his eyes were wide open in paralyzing fear. “Mum…” He mumbled miserably and hardly intelligibly. “I wan’ my Papa…”

After shushing the poor child, Berryblue shot a glare at Cold. “My king… What did you tell him?”

The king scoffed. “I’ll have you know I told him the truth and nothing but it.”

“My king, forgive me if this sounds like insubordination, but I think it would have been best if you hadn’t.”

“It’s what he asked for. What else was I supposed to tell him?”

“You’re supposed to treat this delicately, this is his father we’re dealing with. Go easy on him, he’s only eight, he’s sensitive.”

“Sensitive? Hmph. He’s a full eight years old, Frieza was hardly this cowardly at this age.”

“Even so, he-” As Berryblue attempted to make her defense, she noticed that Kuriza had already ducked out of her arms, lying back on the floor in a ball and whimpering even louder. “He’s just going to keep doing this until he tires himself out- then he’ll start again until you give him what he wants.”

“Then, tell him he’ll get what he wants when he gets it. No sooner. Whining won’t speed up the procedure- and if he still insists on it, I don’t want him in my space.”

Berryblue defensively moved over towards Kuriza, who refused to be pulled back to his feet by her offered hand. “What are you suggesting, my king? Upon Lord Frieza’s repair, he’d surely be upset with you if you caused any ill to his son.”

“If he’s just going to keep moping over every little thing that distresses him, then this is no environment for him to be in. Just take him off-ship or something.” Cold rose back to his full extension, turning away as he waved off the pesky caretaker. “Outpost 495 is nearby, off you go.” He returned to glaring through the glass observation window, judging each surgeon’s every move as they worked meticulously and tirelessly on Frieza’s marred form.

“But… King Cold…” She hesitated.

“You will be paged back as soon as his father is fixed and no sooner.” As Cold grumbled this line, another soldier entered the observation deck, a certain yellow antennaed scientist, who the emperor’s glare instantly turned on. “You. Kikono. You’re idle and expendable.”

Kikono instantly froze. “M-me? Forgive me, King Cold! We believe we have the necessary amount of staff available on the surgery, I wasn’t-” He shuddered, expecting to be struck down.

However, Cold continued. “Escort Berryblue and Lord Kuriza to Outpost 495, if you would. You will not return until you are alerted to do so.”

The scientist swallowed nervously, but accepted nevertheless- following orders was what kept him alive. “Of course, my king.” He bowed and trailed out of the room, slow enough for Berryblue to get the memo and proceed along with him. When they were sure Cold could only see their backs, they exchanged worried glances. Kuriza was still refusing to take her hand but, as much as she didn't want to force him, she had to grab his hand, attempting to ball into himself, and drag him along, the lizard refusing to use his legs either.

"Come along now, Lord Kuriza." Berryblue softly assured him, not swaying him in any way to get up. He only resignedly gave in to her cautious pull, mumbling tiredly, "But… Papa… Papa's not there, Papa's here…"

"Shh~Shh… It's alright. You just need to take your mind off him for a bit while the doctors work, but don't worry. Soon, your Papa will be as good as new~"

Despite her valid argument, Kuriza was still senselessly whining. "But… But… Papa!!" He wailed, on the verge of bursting into tears, the voice quickly silenced as they left the room.

Meanwhile, down on the surgical floor, while a higher staff count worked to sew shut the most threatening gashes, a few intermittent practitioners took care of the more simpler tasks. With his head half blown off, Frieza only had one eye, which had now been cleaned of debris- ashy rock from Namek crumbling around him and encrusted patches of dried blood. Weakly, the eye blinked, vaguely hearing a scared little voice- though who could tell? The vitals monitor overlapped it and, even so, his one remaining ear was full of blood. Seeing the eye move nearly startled the surgeon working on it, deeming it time to put more anaesthesia in the IV.

AGE 764

Cold Outpost 495 was known for just about nothing it would seem- after all, it was less of a colony and more of an interim space for wandering trade and travelers refueling, grandpapa King Cold making profit off of the tariffs and other miscellaneous fees. A few pods of the initial inhabitants still resided on the terracotta-like planetoid but, otherwise, the outpost had little to offer that was the least bit noteworthy in ten-year-old Kuriza’s mind, let alone entertaining. That thought had become abundantly clear to him in the near year and a half he had spent here with Berryblue and Kikono.

Most of his day was the same monotony- training his attacks, studying whatever literature he could acquire from the tradesmen, and waiting on word back from the Force that he could come home. By moonup, it’d usually be the same… nothing to report. He learned to shrug it off- he could handle another day without his Papa. Or another week. Or another month, and another month, and another month…

However, his two caretakers were starting to get somewhat antsy. Berryblue still clocked in her daily logs as per her duty. With there being nothing to report in her medical genre, save treating the occasional bump or scrape, she mainly kept an eye on the status of business and proceedings on the outpost. After this latest uneventful check-in, Kikono chimed in with his ever common anxious ramblings.

“You know, Berryblue, it has been quite some time and still nothing from either of our superiors. I’m starting to fear the worst.”

“Starting?” Berryblue sighed, half-incredulously. “You’ve been nothing but worrisome this whole time.”

“I’m just saying what you’re not willing to say. My conjecture is that the procedure failed and King Cold doesn’t want to break it to Young Lord Kuri-”

“Kikono.” The maidservant cut him off sternly.

“I know you don’t want to come to that conclusion, but-”

“No, Kikono, really.” She darted her eyes in an indirect gesture towards Kuriza himself, who had emerged from the humble little cabana they had set up a temporary base in; Kikono quickly shut up. At ten, he stood a bit taller- still small but still taller than his short-statured staff- and his overlarge cape was starting to suit the size of his shoulders better.

“Oh, hello, you two.” He greeted them through a tiny yawn, his voice understandably tired as night encroached. “Any updates yet?”

Berryblue and Kikono tipped slightly in brief greeting bows, the former speaking up. “Nothing yet, my young lord. Remember what we agreed on- if we get anything, we’ll let you know right away.”

“I know.” Kuriza’s tone towards no news became less dejected over time, at this point seeming unfazed. “Sometimes, things take longer than expected. That’s what Papa tells me, just like how he promised he’d be back. Good night, you two~” With a fatigued little parting smile, he turned in the opposite direction back towards the cabana, not noticing his caretakers letting out synced sighs of relief behind his back.

Once Kuriza was out of sight, Kikono piped back up again. “...I think we should at least check again for incoming transmissions once more.” He fidgeted with his scouter as he set it back on his face. “Just to be safe.” For once, Berryblue agreed with his overanxious precautions, nodding as Kikono switched on the radio.

“Hmm, no reports directly from command, but there is something forwarded from the third division- third stellar region.” The scientist barely needed to give Berryblue a split-second curious glance before she suggested that they intercept the signal. They were lucky- and at the same time horrified- that they checked this one.

“This is Commander Sorbet reporting from division three, reporting to all major Frieza and Cold Force frequencies.” Odd enough, one would usually be beheaded for daring to make a report in such a state of enmasse. “We have received reports of major signal disconnects, particularly in reference to our lordships’ recent conquests to the uncharted Earth. There has been no report back and homing signals have been lost, so we have reason to assume that-”

Both caretakers fearfully paled at not just the news, but upon seeing the figure reemerging outside, witnessing the dreaded bit of the message from the scouter set on speaker. Halfway dressed down for bed and having likely come to investigate the sudden radioed chatter stood, eyes and mouth agape in a stunned silence… Kuriza.

The message ran on as the three parties simply stared back at each other with their own variants of fear. “...We can presume that young Lord Kuriza will take the reins in the succession of the-” Kikono quickly reached up to silence the scouter as Berryblue slowly approached her ward with maternal concern.

“Lord Kuriza… Are you going to be-?

“Yes, I’ll be alright, Berryblue.” Kuriza’s answer sounded strangely firm compared to his typical softness. “Things happen. I understand that. I’ll be heading to bed now…” His remarks were punctuated with the tiniest of sneezes. Berryblue was expecting tears or any sort of visibly strong reaction, but he remained calmly composed, turning back into the cabana. Such was the burden of being raised as an emperor- being taught that crying was a form of weakness.

Mass hysteria was abuzz in the avenues of the outpost planet after hearing the news about the emperors’ fall that night. Even though Kuriza still remained in the succession, many were still quick to pop open their corks and celebrate. It was a wonder that the young prince managed to sleep soundly through all of the ruckus. Berryblue and Kikono slept in shifts as usual- the former’s time awake was mainly spent checking on the likely distressed boy… who was still sleeping peacefully.

However, Kikono, awake around sunrise, roused the nursemaid up from her final sleep shift a bit earlier the next morning. His gaze seemed urgent, though that could mean anything with a fretful Kikono. Berryblue glared up at him through narrowed slats, a bit tired and impatient for the scientist’s panic rambling. Luckily, a stuttering Kikono was still able to be quick and to the point. “Sorry to… erm… wake you, ma’am, but his young lord is requesting your presence in his room. He’s still in bed, so-”

Berryblue sighed as she fully awakened and got to her feet. “I understand, Kikono. He needs me right now. I’m the only family he has left after all.”

“But wasn’t that just an arrangement-”

The nurse was already vanishing down the hall. “Once a ‘Mama’, always a ‘Mama’~”

Kuriza was lying on his side, legs curled into his chest, sure enough still nestled into his bed as Kikono reported. His eyes were lowered and his expression read the same state of misery as his soft groaning and trembling. Berryblue quickly ambled over to him as he, seeming drained, reached out his arm towards her. “Mum…” His voice was a fatigued little moan. “-’m sick…”

“Lord Kuriza, it’s okay~ You can just say you’re upset if that’s really how you feel.” As he tried and failed in his fatigue to dissuade the accusation, Berryblue attempted to hush him, gently stroking the surface of his head biogem before pausing startled- it was very cold to the touch, almost a biting cold. She felt his arm to confirm and received the same chilling answer. “Oh… my. Indeed you are feeling a bit under the weather. Your body temperature has dropped down rather icy.” However, she still needed to verify her likely theory. “Does your throat hurt? Your tum-” She corrected herself. “I mean, your stomach?”

Weakly, Kuriza nodded and Berryblue let out a low sigh, right on the money. “Dammit, just as I thought. Snow flu’s back in season. If we were back at the ship, we could’ve gotten you your yearly shot and avoided this mess.” She took the miscellaneous heap of blankets at the foot of the bed and helped to cocoon them around the trembling lizard. “I’m going to head into town to visit those local apothecaries and see if they can brew you up some medicine again this year. Kikono will get you any extra blankets if you ask.” Her worry making her ramble almost as fast as Kikono, she left the room hesitantly, making her departure out of ample concern.

The apothecaries, strangely gossiping to each other before Berryblue entered, were only too happy to oblige to the request for medicine. “Anything for our young lordship~” They had smiled, in hindsight, rather suspiciously as they passed the nurse a small little jar containing a fluid dose of neon pink medication.

Kuriza took to it with some complaining as he was sat up to drink it down. Within two swallows, he looked disgusted, trying to refuse any more. “Tastes bad-” He managed to whimper through his tired aching throat.

“Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as a good tasting medicine, dear.” Berryblue sighed, encouraging the young lizard to, as much as he hated it, finish the dosage. She let Kuriza lie back down with his expanding collection of blankets.

She told Kikono to keep an eye on the little prince as she left the room, telling him she was going out for a supply run- for food easy to eat and digest for the flu-plagued Kuriza. However, no sooner than she had stepped outside of the cabana, she was called back inside frantically by the yellow scientist after hearing, distantly, a sickened hiccup followed by retching.

Berryblue scrambled back to the boy’s room to find him sprawled on his stomach, partially hatching from his blanket cocoon. He faced the floor, where a growing puddle of eye-catching magenta was accumulating, some of the fluid dripping from his lip. He had swallowed the medicine fully, so it wasn’t purposefully spit up due to hate of the medication- his body just seemed to reject it in vomit, the pink mixing with a few touches of cranberry red. As the lizard peered up miserably, his eyes appeared bloodshot.

In a cold sweat, she rushed to his side, quick to comfort him as he let out a strained whimper. “Lord Kuriza, are you alright?!” He nodded slightly, but he didn’t seem sure of his answer, Berryblue gently petting his head gem, which still felt icy cold, in order to soothe him.

It would seem that medicine wasn’t going to be an option here if he would simply spew up his dosage with a touch of blood- every so often he’d spit up some more of the fluid, so Berryblue’s only option right now was to keep him strong as the flu passed its course- warm blankets and proteins that were easy on the stomach.

However, time passing only seemed to drain him further.

“You’re not the only one who needed me… I thought you understood that.”

Kuriza had finally managed to fall back asleep, albeit in stab-like pain, when this dream surfaced, still trembling under the cold of the snow flu- though it felt like something else was dragging him down as well.

He found himself in a field of pale lavender petals, the sky a mottled dark purple, almost like a storm, and the ceiling wobbled like the surface of water. More vivid fuchsia petals fluttered through the soft breeze, their color seeming to match the blossoming leaves of the grand gray-barked tree that stood nearby.

By its stump and slowly shedding the remaining webbings of an insect’s chrysalis stood the likely source of the voice that began the vision- a hornless reptilian like him, haloed and white-skinned in the few places that weren’t made of hodgepodge scrap metal; a decent chunk of his skull was patched in navy and his lower half and tail were made of silvery iron. He didn’t face him right away, but soon turned his head with a ruby red side glare, revealing a violet jewel on his intact shoulder and chest. The appearance was unrecognizable, but the voice was a dead ringer for…

Kuriza’s mouth seemed to speak on its own. “Papa?”

The roboticized Frieza sighed. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t come back for you, my little chestnut.” It was rare for his father to stammer like this. “I just couldn’t. I needed to clean up the scraps of that mess on Namek.”

“But you could’ve at least said you were okay! Then I could have helped you-”

“No. You couldn’t.” Frieza growled between his teeth. “Considering I didn’t even hold a torch to that fiend, you… I wouldn’t be able to save…” He didn’t dare finish the thought, clenching his eyes shut as he held a tense fist. “Never mind… Forget it… I’ve been talking for too long already. The faes need to string me back up now.” He sighed, looking down pensively as all tension left his body.

“Wait!” Kuriza’s voice leaped out of his throat. “Papa, I’m not done! Don’t leave me again!” He rushed ahead to close the gap between him and his father, attempting to plant a hug around his legs. However, as the embrace met Frieza’s thighs, the older Arcosian’s body swiftly dissolved into a fleeting flurry of petals. Kuriza fell forward as the floral floor below turned to goldenrod. He managed to push himself up before letting out a sputtering cough, crimson blood dripping from all across his face, not just from his mouth, tainting the daffodil bed. He lost his balance again, face sinking into the bloody flowers that suffocated the breath out of him.

“Berryblue’s log, reporting. I believe I may have blood on my hands.

As Lord Kuriza declined more and more, I had my suspicions. I had the equipment to test it, but I worried his blood would be too thin to take a vial- I regret that I could only test him once it was too late. We believe the ‘medication’ that the villagers gave us was the vessel for the poison we found traces of. Only Lord Kuriza stood between them and freedom from the empire’s bootheel, so they likely surmised. If Lord Frieza were still alive, he would have made quick work of this planet, damn if Kikono and I were still on it.

I didn’t know this and I instead let him suffer instead of investigating my theory once he began to vomit blood. I believe I am partially to blame for his murder.”

Kikono approached Berryblue as she proceeded with her log and became concerned at this remark. “Don’t say that, you did the best you could-”

The maidservant ignored him with a firm huff, pensively shutting her eyes. “End. Log.”

The first thing that burst from Kuriza’s mouth upon being informed by the ogres at King Yemma’s check-in desk that he was dead was a demand that he be taken to see his father.

The confused deities of the Otherworld whispered amongst each other, unsure how to proceed. Such was an odd request of a spirit. Even before he could be sorted properly, he already wanted to descend into the depths in search of Frieza’s isolated circle of Hell.

Kuriza not being an overly malicious spirit, not worthy of a designated punishment yet not the purest heart, the ogres decided with hesitancy to acquiesce, provided he was supervised. The boy would take any opportunity he could get to look his Papa in the eyes again.

The lizard went fearfully pale when they escorted him below the lake to Frieza’s sector- sure enough there was a grand blossom tree in the center of a golden field like in his last dream. A chrysalis made of spider web held its prey, strung from the highest branch.

“We’ll bring him down for you in a moment. Just be patient.”

“Be careful.” Kuriza hushedly warned them. “My father doesn’t take kindly to being shoved around.”

“Don’t worry. He can’t exactly kill us here. We made precautions for that~” The ogre watched with the young spirit as the cocoon was lowered to the ground by the inhabitant faes. They cautiously unwrapped the bundle as the world around them turned to violet. Sure enough, Kuriza’s mechanized Papa was the fly caught in the spider web- just as he had looked then. Within seconds of being freed, Frieza shoved the supervisors aside as he accustomed himself to free use of his joints again. As the ogre drew close, Kuriza leerily hiding behind his back, the dead emperor’s glare deepened.

“What do you want from me this time that you so foolishly freed me of my restraints?”

“Relax, Frieza, sir. You just have a visitor, that’s all.”

“Hmph… Who would ever dream of visiting a person like me in this side of Hades-”

He trailed off with wide eyes as the ogre stood aside to display a haloed Kuriza who looked up bashfully. “It… It’s really you… Papa?”

Frieza was still stunned in silence, his mind trying to process all of this at once, but he promptly stopped its efforts, clenching his eyes shut with a firm and demanding bark. “String me back up. Please.”

“Huh?!” Kuriza now faced his own confusion, appearing a bit teary eyed. He could finally see his Papa again and he didn’t even want to see him.

“You heard me, ogre. String me back up in my tree. Right now, the fairy serenades seem preferable to this heinous torture- your creativity in cruelty knows no bounds it seems.”

“I’m… torture?” Kuriza very meekly and hardly audibly whimpered.

“It’s just your son, he came to visit you. What makes you think this is part of the torture?”

Frieza sighed as he turned away. “Because I know that there’s no way my son is actually dead.” He spoke no more as he stretched out his arms, as his pretty-winged tormentors swept him back up in the silk, only leaving his head free.

“Wait! No! Papa!” Kuriza seemed to scream as loud as his little lungs would let him before it felt ragged on his throat. He tried to run to intercept the cocoon, but it just barely escaped his grasp, being hung back up as the world returned to blue skies and yellow flowers. Like the dream, he fell face first into the expanse of petals, except this time, instead of blood dripping from his face, it was tears.

He had to be dragged by his tail back to the surface, but he still opted to hover nearby. Out of all of the space of the Otherworld, he chose a shore of Hell to linger by, since it was the one place where he could see his father suspended from his tree through the surface of the ethereal lakewater.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #one shot #drabble #angst #Kuriza #Frieza #King Cold #Kikono #Berryblue #I think it's pretty much sealed that Kuriza is some degree of messed up no matter his timeline placement #I think having Kuriza born post-ToP puts him in the best circumstances but still... there's probably some generational trauma in there #I had jotted down some notes of this around October because of... recent events #Then later fleshed it out #I used Francis Forever by Mitski and Red Like Roses Part 2 from RWBY as writing mood music for this #I might want to play around with pre-Super Kuriza some more but that doesn't mean I'm abandoning my post-ToP edition

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mugirmu · 2 years

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in honor of the one-year anniversary of episode 141's airing (yesterday but its 3am so hush) it's DEEPLY missing the mighty nein hours

#im a MESS #and absolute MESS #im not gonna put it all here but i just did a lot of introspection on my... difficulty to move on? from campaign 2 and how that might be a #reason why i am/have been struggling so hard to get into exu and campaign 3 #i really want to give c3 another shot as ive only watched the first few episodes and i REALLY want to watch exu calamity #its just. hard. for grief suffering reasons (yes thats the right word for my stuff for additional personal reasons)#but i dont want to just have current critical role not be a part of my life anymore. i cant fucking stand it #i adored vox machina when i was watching it before c2 came out and i still do #and c2 and the mighty nein literally was a core pillar of my life. for Years. and theyre so important to me and idk what i wouldve done #without them in my life when they were here #and i miss them really bad and a part of me wants to go back to the time when c2 was still airing #but i can manage and catch up with the rest of the fandom and have fun again with all these new characters #i dont doubt that i'll love the bells hells when i just give them a chance and i think now's that time #i want thursdays to be exciting again. i want to liveblog with mutuals again and nonstop share amazing fanart and meta and fanfic #fuck im crying again aaagh #ill always carry the mighty nein and their story in my heart because they were and are so so important to me literally changed my life #maybe i should make a true appreciation post soon but not rn #idk i guess i needed to put these thoughts somewhere #thanks cr for being amazing and beloved #thanks mighty nein

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permanentreverie · 2 years

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when I'm ready to go to sleep at someone's place but I don't have my stuffed animal under my arm and a pillow at my back and under my crooked knee and my window cracked slightly and the fan going and the mattress isn't the same and I don't have my 3 day old water bottle at my nightstand and not the same blanket over my exposed leg so I get the right temperature but still the coverage and the duvet doesn't fall just so around me: pain.

#hi. it is. 2:23 AM #I just don't think I'm good at new places all that much?#I mean I'm glad I'm housesitting for my sister it'll be FINE #but I had this same problem at my brothers just a few nights ago #and didn't get to sleep till 4 #granted that was after a concert so it might have been the adrenaline #worst part is I won't be able to fully sleep in here cause her dogs will get me up at 5:30-6 🥲#my sleep schedule is absolutely SHOT #the day I get home I am CHUGGING melatonin and gonna be out by like 10 pm. watch me.#lindsay speaks

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fishy-lava · 1 month

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i keep deciding i want to grow out my hair again because i miss braiding it but every time ive tried i just get frustrated with it and shave my head again because hair is a sensory nightmare and i have so little patience for it

#why is hair so annoying #like i really like having braids bc i think theyre cute but also having anything other than a buzzcut makes me want to tear my skin off #also my hair grows really fast and is super thick and i hate having to deal with it #cutting it all off every couple months is the most efficient way to deal with it #actually for the past 2 or 3 years ive developed a habit of shaving my head through the summer and spring and letting it grow out when it #starts to get cold #and i always go “hey maybe ill actually let it grow this time” and then spring comes around and i cut it all off again #can you guess what im considering rn?#if you guessed “cutting off all your hair again” you'd be right #i need to find a hairstyle that got some part of it long enough to braid and then have the rest be short #would it require actually maintaining? probably idk it might be worth a shot tho #my hair hasnt been long enough to easily braid since i was like 13 and i miss it :(

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mariocki · 7 months

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Playwright, director, poet (and actor) Steven Berkoff makes an uncredited appearance as a mafia assassin, Bertoli, in The Saint: Vendetta for the Saint - Part 2 (6.16, ITC, 1969)

#fave spotting #steven berkoff #the saint #vendetta for the saint #1969 #itc #these (really quite awful..) pics are frim part 2 but actually Steven appears as Bertoli in both parts‚ altho more in a background #capacity in part 1 (i don't think he has any lines in that ep). his appearance in part 2 is more significant and of course ends in him #getting shot dead while trying to kill Simon.#I'm inordinately fond of Berkoff: he is by almost every account a difficult crank and an outspoken curmudgeon who's alienated as many #people as he's enthralled‚ but he's also a fiercely independent artist and one of the few genuinely unique dramatic forces of his #generation still with us. he'd been acting for about a decade at this point and was just making the transition from juvenile roles #(he seemed to play students well into his 30s) to more mature parts; slowly he'd become typecast as a villain‚ something he's always #been quite positive about. gradually his acting work would become almost entirely secondary to his creative output‚ at least as #far as screen roles were concerned: the irony being that he found his greatest fame by accepting rubbishy roles as bad guys #in 80s and 90s action flicks‚ taken solely for the paycheck and so that that money might be quickly funnelled into his own #artistic projects‚ which rarely make much money but were made his own way and exactly as he wanted them. it's a method of working i #admire a great deal‚ and it produced some of the most singular‚ most uniquely devastating british plays of the 20th century

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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Arrows and Ashes

You and Cassian are ambushed when trying to meet with Eris in the Autumn Court. When an interrogation ensues that leaves you permanently scarred, how will Azriel react?

WC: 4.7k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff.

Part 2

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was damp. From the cold, wet floor to the musty air and your blood-soaked skin.

How long had you and Cassian been here? How long had it been since Autumn soldiers had ambushed you in the woods of the Autumn Court, shooting arrows directing into the war general?

It couldn't have been more than a day. You didn't even think it was night time yet. But it felt like it had been an eternity.

From the interrogations to watching Cassian writhe around in pain due to the faebane arrows protruding from his wings... time continuously ticked slower.

You ached. Your entire body cold with sweat despite your lack of clothing. Dirt and blood coated your skin, and you tried to ignore how uncomfortable it felt against your normally soft flesh. You couldn’t though. You couldn’t ignore the situation you were in. Not when it only seemed to be getting worse, and you had no escape in sight.

You might not make it out of here.

You had left that morning expecting to return home quickly. You had left with a plan to meet Eris Vanserra and return to the House of Wind for a bath, to read a book, to have a nice dinner with friends, and maybe even get to spend time with your mate.

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost picture him bursting through the cell door, blue siphons ablaze with power and face molded into an expression of beautiful fury.

But he wasn't here. And you might never see him again.

"Cassian..."

"Don't." He demanded. His voice was cracking with weakness, but he tried to sound resolute. "Rhys is coming."

He didn’t sound convinced, and you could tell that he was worried you were running out of time too. It might not have been long enough for Rhys and the others to be concerned, but it was long enough for the Autumn Court to inflict permanent damage.

You let out a shaky breath, grief already swimming in your chest. Grief for what could have been with you and Azriel if you hadn't been so scared. If you had told him sooner about the bond that had snapped for you. If you hadn't been so focused on him wanting you for you and not the idea of the bond.

“I need you to promise me you'll tell him."

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you tried to hold back your cries. You didn't want your life to end so sadly. You wanted to be able to speak with your friend, pretend like everything was okay, reminisce on the happy times you had with the people you loved.

Instead, you were laying nearly completely bare on a concrete floor, shackled, covered in blood, tears, and vomit. Your body had been taken apart, your skin flayed open, beaten. You thought you must look like an animal on a butcher's board, your body a canvas of gore.

Cassian was not unharmed either. When they had captured the two of you, they had shot him down with faebane arrows: a dozen or two of them. His wings were severely injured, and his power was subdued from the faebane. He had taken beatings as well, but when they realized how well-trained the general had been in withstanding interrogations, they turned to you.

Inflicting damage on your body was a way to get either yourself or Cassian to talk. They taunted him with your pain, and you felt guilty that this would most likely haunt him as much as it haunted you. Would he forgive himself for doing the right thing and protecting his court?

The two of you were on your way to meet with Eris to go over some plans when you were ambushed by Beron's men. Based on their line of questioning, they still did not know of the eldest son's plans of a coup, but they were suspicious of the Night Court presence in their land.

They used the opportunity to not just ask why you were there, but to interrogate you about the new Night Court addition: Nyx. They wanted to know about his powers, how strong he seemed to be, if he can be used as a weapon, how many guards are constantly with him...

But you and Cassian would never betray your family nor your court.

So when Cassian refused to answer, and the whip came down on your torso, you tried to block out his yells, his growls, his apologies. You tried to block out the pain as the leather cleaved into your skin, flaying it open until muscle showed. You focused on what you would do when you got out of here; how you would go to the library with Nesta and pick out new books, how you would go shopping with Mor, how you would go flying with Azriel.

You focused on happy memories with your friends as fists landed on your cheeks, dug into your ribs. As Cassian took blows, you tried to remember the way he'd make you laugh, contorting his groans of pain into his teasing hums and chuckles.

But as you laid in a pool of your own blood, the taunts of the soldiers echoed in your head, and you knew what was coming.

Your wings would be next to go, and with that, so would you.

Despite yourself, you wondered how Azriel would react. If he would mourn you, if it would hurt him as badly as losing him would hurt you. You wondered how Cassian would tell him about the mating bond, if he would have Azriel sit down first, if Rhys would be there for support as well.

"We are getting out of here," Cassian said, voice stronger and more determined. "And you are telling him yourself."

But then the cells were opening, footsteps marching down the hall, and three males were walking toward you with purpose. They gripped you by your forearms, pulling you up harshly, and you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your panic down.

The lacerations on your arms and abdomen from the whip were burning with a vengeance, infection certain to be spreading from the dirt pressed into them on the concrete. The males' hands twisted around your wounds, and you gasped weakly at the pain as they hauled you to your knees.

The shackles were connected to a hook on the wall, lifting your arms slightly, allowing them full access to your back. Your back that they had not whipped, because they were waiting for this.

"Daisy," he called your nickname -- the one given to you by Azriel when you all were only kids. "Look at me. Just look at me, alright? I'm here."

Your whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and anticipation at what was to come. Panic was suffocating you, building in your chest and making its way up your throat, and you thought your bladder might have even released with how petrified you were.

Cassian's voice was still echoing in the background, but you could only focus on the clanging of chains, the footsteps behind you, the sound of a sword unsheathing.

Your fingers dug into the shackles, fingers white with how hard you were gripping them, trying to steel yourself for what was to come.

"Lord of Bloodshed..." one of the males taunted, spinning the sword around in his hand. "I think you know what this is for."

You drowned out the male's voice. His nasally, grating, voice that seemed to irritate your ears. You drowned out the words that would doom you, focusing instead on listening to your own breathing and heart beat.

You were alive. You were strong.

There was silence after a while, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gritted your teeth, tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

You tried to suck in a breath, tried not to let his protection of his nephew, his protection of his brother, of his court, hurt you. But the sword came down, and your lungs were not yet filled with air.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe.

It was like your limb was being torn from your body, nerve endings flaying open, on fire, agony coursing through your veins and sending a shock through your body all the way to your head.

You thought you might have made a noise, but you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears, and your chest seemed stuck.

Blood splattered across the wall as he pulled the sword out of your wing. It hadn’t gone all the way through; instead, it had gotten stuck in one of the lines of thick membrane, and you gagged when he pulled it from where it had stopped, tissue separating with the motion.

It came down again, a hacking motion, unclean and barbarous, dragging through tendons and nerves.

You had never been in so much pain before. You thought you might be going into shock, your body shaking, stomach nauseous, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing with white noise.

You were only semi-aware of the burning coming up your throat, of the smell of your own vomit.

Cassian’s voice was muffled, drowned out in your mind, but you could hear the sorrow, the panic, the guilt.

Your hands were limp in the shackles, body slumped forward into the wall when the first wing fell to the floor with a thump.

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

And when the sword came down toward the second wing, your adrenaline now out of your system, you couldn’t help the piercing scream that echoed off the walls. You screamed and sobbed and shook until the hacking broke through the second wing too, slicing and grinding it to the floor.

Your entire body was covered in sweat. Cheek pressed to the wall, arms hung above your head but body hanging limp. You tried to stay conscious. You tried to focus on the sounds of Cassian’s sobs, the way he called your name and tried to get your attention. You tried to blink the dizziness away, tried to focus on the blood pooling around you into a large circle.

But everything ached and stung.

As the shackles were released from the wall, weight now imbalanced, your body didn’t even know which way to fall.

You landed in a puddle of your own blood, urine, vomit, and tears. But you were too tired to move, too hurt to move. So you laid there, cheek pressed into the sticky, hot, red liquid, and watched as your friend begged you to stay awake.

Breath stuttering in your chest, blood wavering in front of your mouth with each heave, you reached a hand out to your friend. Just barely. With only enough strength to inch your fingers forward, your body twitching with pain and exertion, you made the motion, tried to communicate that you did not blame him, that you understood, even if your chest ached with hurt.

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

There were times you could hear voices, ones you recognized. Other times it was peacefully quiet. You tried to bask in those moments, where there was no pain or noise—only you and your mind. Where you could pretend like everything was fine and you and Cassian had never left for the Autumn Court early that morning. Or that you had met with Eris as planned, gotten the intel you needed, and returned in time for supper.

But those voices would interrupt your peaceful state, arguing and panicking.

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

You were only brought back to full consciousness briefly when you felt a searing hot pain in your back, pulling you from your sleep gasping for air.

You were on fire, dear gods, you were burning alive.

And then Cassian was in your eyesight, his hazel eyes shining with concern. His hand reached out to cradle your head where it laid atop a pillow, the other stretched across the tops of your shoulders to keep you held down onto the table.

“I know, I know,” he reassured quickly. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

But you didn’t believe him. How could you be okay when you felt like this? When you didn't even understand what was happening?

You were choking on your own cries, on the tears and drool pooling in your mouth. Cassian tried to wipe them away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

Your fingers grasped at the wood underneath you, your legs kicking at an invisible weight holding your lower half down.

“Please-“ your voice shook as your body trembled. “Stop.”

You could feel yourself losing consciousness again, your vision going spotty, the pain too much for your weak, shocked body to handle.

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

You didn’t think you would live past this though. This was unbearable. Pure hot torture raging across the skin of your back and melting the muscle, nerves, and bone.

Distantly, you realized what they were doing. They were cauterizing the wounds. Burning the flesh to stop the bleeding, to give you a chance at healing before it was too late.

Mouth dry, your voice gave out, and you let out hoarse squeaks of pain.

It could have been sixty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the weight on your legs shifted, and the fire edged away.

Your lashes and cheeks were wet with your tears, tongue bitten in your screaming. And as you tried to breathe again, tried to focus on Cassian’s voice as he addressed Eris, on his hand stroking your hair back, you thought of where you could be. If you were actually going to make it back to the Night Court, if you were actually going to survive this.

Gruesome lashes ached on your legs, abdomen, and arms. The weightlessness at your back paired with the smell of burnt flesh brought an image of barbecue to your brain that had you gagging again.

You might survive, but your body wouldn’t. This was no longer you, no longer the body you would have willingly given to Azriel, with the glowing bond in its chest he remained unaware about.

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

“We’re gonna get you home,” you heard Cassian speaking softly to you.

Eris moved around in the background, gathering and packing up supplies in another room of whatever isolated home he had brought you to. You never thought you’d be so grateful to see the auburn-haired male, or that he’d actually put his ass on the line to save you, but here he was.

Had he heard you were captured upon your missed meeting? Did he release you himself?

You knew he would have to find a way to explain how you two got out from the cells. It would most likely end in some form of physical abuse toward him from Beron. The thought made your stomach turn with more sorrow and guilt.

“Eris sent a letter to Rhys. He knows where we are, and he’ll be here soon.”

You let the words comfort you, your eyes fluttering shut and muscles trying to relax after being attacked.

A sharp pain separate from the physical torture you endured burned in your heart, though, as you realized how everything was going to change. Your wings were gone. They took your wings, and with it any happiness or confidence you had felt.

You felt tears swim in your vision, your eyes so exhausted you could barely keep them open enough for the liquid to fall down your cheeks. Cassian immediately wiped them away with his thumb, his brow scrunched in concern as he watched you.

“My wings-” your voice wobbled, and Cassian immediately brought his head to yours in a makeshift hug.

“I know,” he tried to soothe, his voice pinched with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

Eris appeared once again, carrying a blanket and what looked like a loose nightgown. You only then realized how bare you still were from the dungeon and your injuries.

“Here,” the usually cold Autumn lord set the clothes to the side, pulling the blanket out instead. He draped it across your body, adjusting it so it covered from your shoulders to your toes. Cassian gave him a somewhat surprised and suspicious glance, but nonetheless nodded his head at the male gratefully.

“Rhys responded and should be here any minute. The wards are open to him. I assume he is collecting his own healer-”

Eris didn’t even have a chance to finish before shadows materialized in the corner of the room, an intimidating presence taking up the space and charging for the auburn-haired male.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Azriel-” Cassian jumped to his feet, pulling the shadowsinger back. Azriel’s eyes remained locked on the Autumn Court heir, though, his eyes promising a pain he knew all too well how to deliver. “He got us out. We got caught, and he helped us. Without him, she'd be dead.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, body tense with anger. He seemed to take the moment to consider the words, to consider if he believed in their truth. Ultimately, he dropped his hands and turned toward where you laid.

His face crumpled, all anger and drive deflating into devastation.

Feet carrying him over to you, he fell to his knees in the same spot Cassian had just occupied.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, shaking hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You tried to blink up at him, but your vision was still slightly blurred. You could still see the concern in his eyes, though. The way the green and brown melded together with worry and care, sparking the gold tether in your chest alive.

“My sweet Daisy,” he muttered to himself. “What have they done to you?”

Daisy. The nickname was sweet on his lips, sweet as the day he labeled you as his flower. The young boy who had taken a look at the young Illyrian female ravaging her horrible family's garden in a rage and had endearingly called her Daisy. Had compared her to the pretty life that could grow in a horrible place, in horrible soil that kept preventing her from sprouting.

You didn't know what to tell him. Your body still shook with pain, adrenaline, and shock.

You heard Rhys arrive, heard Cassian and Eris explaining what had occurred to the high lord and his healer. You heard Madja curse at the arrow wounds in Cassian's wings, and Cassian insist she help you first.

"You're going to be okay," Azriel placed a soft kiss to your fingertips peeking out from the top of the blanket. "And I am going to make them pay. They are going to regret ever touching you."

You tried to focus on his pretty eyes, his dark eyelashes highlighting the light hazel. He looked so worried, so hurt himself.

Shuffling behind you made your breath hitch, and then the blanket was being moved down your back, exposing your wounds to the cold air.

You winced, a sound you would equate to a wounded animal echoing into the solemn room. Azriel’s hand gripped your own, eyes watching your reaction intently.

But you watched as his eyes moved from your own to glance at what everyone else was seeing—what Madja was here to work on. His face immediately paled, his jaw clenching tight, and his fingers digging into your own.

Did it look as bad as it felt?

You wondered if someone would be able to find you beautiful after this. If Azriel would be able to look at your skin and see a pretty female and not someone who had been put through a meat grinder.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his eyes away from your back and locking onto your own again.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he was trying to contain himself, reign himself in from exploding.

“I didn’t tell them,” you finally spoke. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and throwing up, and dry from lack of water.

Azriel looked as if you had hit him, and you heard Rhys immediately come to your side next to the shadowsinger. He knelt down and placed a kiss to the sweaty skin at your temple, stroking your hair lovingly before looking at you sternly.

“All we care about right now is that our friend is alive and safe. Don’t worry about anything else right now. I’m not.”

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

Rhysand looked haunted but not surprised. “Cassian told me. We will figure it out and plan for the worst.”

You didn’t answer the high lord, focusing on your breathing as Madja began skimming her hands over the gouges in your back.

Violet eyes met your own, and the hazel eyes next to him watched the healer’s actions with intensity. “I will never be able to repay the price you paid to keep my family safe. I am forever indebted to you.”

Tears fell down Rhys’ cheeks, and you wished you could hug him, the male you think of as a brother. But then you thought of how odd that would feel for you—for him—to hug without your wings.

You remembered his story of being captured during the war. How he said he went through endless abuse and torture, but they didn't touch his wings. He had said that touching them would have been the one way to get him to talk.

But you didn't.

“I’d do it again-” you began to say, but you were cut off by Madja’s actions, a piercing pain shooting through you. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hand clamping down on Azriel’s.

“Rhys.” Azriel demanded. What he was demanding, you weren’t sure. But his voice was firm, strong, a tone you hadn’t heard him use before with his brother.

Rhys seemed to understand though, because he stood and walked a few steps to the top of your head, putting a hand there.

“Can I take some of your pain away?” He asked gently, voice still strained from the emotions he showed.

You could barely give a nod of your head with how badly your muscles were tensed in agony. But he saw it, and as you felt the mental talons drag along the walls of your mind, your tear-filled eyes met Azriel’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” the shadowsinger said, eyes gleaming with sorrow. “My strong Daisy. My brave, brave girl.”

And with some of the pain gone—there, but now slightly more bearable as the healer worked—you could breathe a bit easier.

Azriel continued speaking to you, distracting you from the work going on around your body. “Before you know it, we’ll be back in Velaris. We can go to that bookstore you like and pick out as many books as you want. I’ll read one with you, if you want. Even one of those romances you like so much.”

He tried to give you a soft smile, but it looked sad, and it made your heart hurt.

A rough twist near your back and a sob escaped your mouth. Rhys’ energy swarmed stronger in your mind, and Azriel was quick to lean forward, face inches from your own, eyes drowning in fear and worry.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, voice heavy with panic. “Just focus on me. I know it hurts, but we’ve gotta do it. You’re almost done, sweetheart. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Your cries were becoming louder and you could hear Azriel cursing, could see through your tears the way he tipped his head up to look at Rhys in desperation.

“Can we put her to sleep?” He asked toward the healer, and if you didn’t know what he asked, the sound of his voice would have made you think he was begging.

It was silent for a moment, and you could feel Azriel’s hands start shaking around your limp one in his grasp.

Madja finally responded, sounding grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What can I do?” Azriel pleaded toward the healer.

You tried to control your sobs, control the way your body convulsed at the touches of the healer behind you. But it was excruciating, the lack of wings, the deep tendons, muscles, bones, and nerves ripped from your skin and haphazardly cauterized despite possible infection. And now to try to fix the rushed burns, to check for infection and draw it out...

“Keep her awake.”

Azriel’s head dipped down for a moment, either in sorrow or in order to compose himself. But then he was looking at you, so lovely and beautiful you nearly felt like you were dreaming.

And he tried to sound positive, his voice going up a bit to sound lighter, but it was strained and not entirely convincing.

“I found that cat you have been following around Velaris. The stray that tries to sneak into the coffee shop? I guess some of the customers feed him. They call him Bix, and he lives under the porch of the place.”

Your vision swims as you try to pay attention to what he is saying, and his fingers lightly tap your cheek.

“I'll take you to visit him soon. Okay? I'll even pet him this time."

You tried to smile at the image of the stoic shadowhunter holding a cute stray cat, but even the muscles in your face felt heavy and lethargic.

"Maybe we can get you a cat," he continued when he saw you listening. "I know you’ve always wanted one. And Rhys would probably give you fifty now if you asked.”

His voice was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more you wanted to sleep. His presence was like a balm to the last ten hours, the scent of him, the feel of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, all reminded you that you were safe again.

Rhys’ power rushed through you, and you could feel your body start to go numb, the pain ebbing away thanks to your friend and high lord.

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

“Hey-” Azriel sat up a little straighter, the movement pulling your eyelids open once more. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. You can sleep soon, I promise. Just not yet.”

But you could barely hear him. Your mind was already falling, vision warping into a blurry vignette.

Azriel was here. You were safe.

“Madja-” Azriel's voice became more frantic as he watched you start to fade. In a panic, he stood from his position at your side and gripped your face in both his palms.

His fingertips were gentle on your face as they lightly tapped, trying to get your attention without hurting you. When you didn’t respond, your heavy eyelids beginning to succumb to sleep, he began to tap a little harder, his strong hands trying to pull you back up.

The last thing you heard before finally allowing a pain free and peaceful rest to overtake you was Azriel pleading your name, a shuffle of two bodies, and then his touch being gone, his deep voice suspended in the room instead—a darkness trailing underneath it that would have had you on your knees if not for you floating into unconsciousness.

“Prepare for a war, Rhysand. Because if she doesn’t wake up, I will slaughter every last member of the Autumn Court.”

Before darkness enveloped you, you briefly wondered if their bodies would look like your own when he was finished.

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel fluff

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owl127 · 11 months

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You don’t have enough prompt already ? I sent like 3 😭😭😭

Oh love, not all prompts hit right away. Others get my brain going... Like these games in city fairs/festivals that you need to throw balls to get a prize. You need to try it multiple times to get it going, sometimes?

Think of my brain like a cat: it won't always let you pet it, but when it does, you'll feel like the most special person in the universe. (Or not, my analogies are pretty off this morning)

#ask the owl #i hope i amswered at least one of your prompts already ':)#im currently thinking about this duo project i somehow convinced lexa griffins to work with ne #and one sulemio one shot #and I might publish some other stuff thats in my drive #also the cry for a part 2 from my last clexa one shot got me writing something

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steddiecameraroll · 2 months

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Steve’s never noticed a man’s neck before. But he keeps catching glances of Eddie’s and can’t figure out why it’s doing things to him. Specifically his junk.

He assumes it’s because he’s jealous. Or maybe it’s just more prominent because of Eddie’s long hair?

But neither of those reasons explain why he wants to put his teeth in it.

“Rob, do you think I could have a delay in symptoms from those bats?”

“What do you mean? Do you think you finally got rabies? Steve, you were supposed to get that shot!”

“No, no. I did, that’s not it. No, but there are like bats that are vampires right? Could I be a vampire?” He raises his eyebrows in concern.

Robin, however, visibly relaxes and goes back to her book. They’re keeping each other company during another slow shift.

“No, you’re not a vampire.”

“How do you know? I mean, I kinda want to bite Eddie,” he says with such assurance.

“What?” Robin scrunches her face.

“Yeah, it’s bad.” He leans over the counter resting on his elbows. “Yesterday, when he stopped in after dropping the kids off, it took everything inside of me not to tip his head back and sink my teeth into the long muscle on his neck.”

“Ew, that is not… is that why you think you’re a vampire?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“And-and not that you might be…? Oh my god,” she lowers her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this. Do you also want to lick his neck? And I don’t know, maybe kiss it?”

Steve pauses, letting her question tumble around in his mind before responding.

“Yeah, yeah, I wanna do that too. Does that make me a vampire?” His voice raises in fear.

“No, dingus. No, it doesn’t,” she sighs. “I think it does make you the muppet in this situation though.”

Steve tilts his head trying to understand what she’s talking about, when the little bell above the door tinkles, drawing his attention.

Eddie saunters into the store while casually pulling his hair up into a ponytail.

“Hey!”

Steve zeros in on the taut neck muscle begging for Steve’s lips.

“Ohhhhh,” he whips his head back to Robin. “I want to fuck him.”

Part 2

#so he does #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #q #my writing

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daisynik7 · 5 months

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A Helping Hand

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.3k

cw: next-door neighbor Nanami, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, cream pie, sex without a condom, mention of sex toys, use of pet names (sweetheart), just horny things lol

Summary: You’re so completely insatiable that you’re going a tad bit insane. You enlist the aid of your next-door neighbor Nanami, who you know is more than willing to help.

Author’s Note: idk, just feeling a little feral for him, that’s all. this is a silly one, sorry. MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

part 2 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

You stare wide-eyed up at the ceiling of your bedroom, legs apart, the blankets shrugged off to the side. You’re naked from the waist-down, panties tossed to the floor with your vibrator hanging loosely in your grip. You’ve been going at it for nearly half an hour now, trying to chase a high that you just can’t seem to reach on your own. Sure, you’re doing fine. That’s just it, though. It’s just fine. Nothing spectacular, nothing mind-blowing. Tonight, you’re desperate to be filled, aching to be stuffed. Stimulation on your clit alone isn’t enough to satiate your appetite.

You. Need. Cock.

And you think you know exactly where to find it.

Nanami is your next-door neighbor. He’s quiet, even a bit shy at times. You’ve always found him attractive. Aside from his obvious good looks, he’s been kind to you since you met him when you moved in months ago. You’ve shared several meals together after you gave him fresh herbs and cherry tomatoes from your garden. That seemed to break the ice between you. Nothing more has ever happened, though there’s a palpable tension that surrounds you whenever you’re together, almost like you’re both willing to cross the line from neighbors to lovers, but too scared to do so. Subtle glances, lingering touches, suggestive comments.

If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.

Whatever you need, I’ll be here.

I’m here for you if you need me.

Tonight, you’re in heat, daring to march right into his apartment and ask him for a huge favor. This might go horribly wrong, and maybe you’ll end up moving out from sheer embarrassment, but you know what? The fantasy of taking his big cock deep in your pussy is enough to convince you that it’s worth a shot.

You wrap yourself in a robe, not bothering to put on any underwear, still wet from your previous orgasms. With three gentle knocks on his door, your heart starts to race, your instincts willing you to walk right back into your apartment and forget about this ridiculous idea. It’s too late, however. He answers, surprised to see you. You greet him with a weak smile, suddenly shy in his presence. “Hello, Nanami. Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not,” he replies, stepping aside to let you in. “Are you alright?”

He shuts the door closed and you don’t have the nerve to look him in the eye. You were so confident just moments ago, and now look at you. Trembling and flustered. You cross your arms over your chest, unsure what to say.

You feel him right behind you now, his body heat radiating towards you, close enough that if either of you moved even the slightest bit, you’d be touching. His breath is warm on your ear. “Are you alright?” he repeats, genuine concern in his voice. He’s always been so sweet to you. So nice. So helpful. Maybe he’d be okay with doing this for you, just this once.

You turn to face him, cheeks hot, saliva gathering in your mouth. Swallowing thickly, you ask, “Can you help me?” It almost comes out as a whimper, a whine. So needy and so desperate for his touch.

His eyes drop to your waist, focused on the loose knot holding your robe together. His fingers tug gently at it, pulling it apart, revealing your half-naked body to him. You gasp softly, surprised and aroused by his sudden action. “Finally,” is all he mutters before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. He’s hungry and greedy, just like you are, tongue pushing against yours, eager for a taste of you. You moan into his mouth, pawing at his chest, bunching his shirt between your fists. He leads you to the couch, sitting down and hoisting you onto his lap, sliding the robe off your body along with the rest of your clothes. You’re completely bare for him now, spread out on his lap. He looks down between you, watching your arousal seep into his grey sweatpants.

“So wet,” he groans. “How many times did you come tonight?” He grabs your chin, pulling you in to kiss you fiercely.

“Three,” you answer, licking at his lips.

He smiles against you, fingers trailing your body until they’re pressed to your puffy clit. “That sounds about right. I heard you through the walls, fucking yourself silly.”

“You did?” you huff, grinding on his palm, yearning for friction.

He nods. “Oh yes. I heard every filthy moan from this pretty mouth of yours. Been waiting for you to finally give in and ask me for help.” He strokes your clit between his fingers, teasing your entrance to collect your cum, smearing it on your bud.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, rocking your hips against him. It feels so fucking good, but it’s still not enough.

He knows exactly what you need. With his free hand, he shoves his pants down his legs, releasing his hard cock. You marvel at how pretty it is in his fist, stroking it and tapping it on your clit. You lift yourself off his lap to sink down onto his length, moaning wantonly until he’s all the way inside. Staying still, he kisses you sloppily, squeezing your ass in both his hands.

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart?” He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, nuzzling his nose to yours. “You wanted this cock, and now you have it. Show me how badly you need it.” He leans back against the couch, resting his palms behind his head, watching you like a spectator. “Ride me until I fill you up.”

Too horny to protest (and why would you anyways?), you obey, stroking his cock at a slow pace until you can adjust to his massive size. Once it becomes a fluid motion, you speed up, slapping your ass against his thighs. He’s deep in your womb now, so deep you feel it in your stomach. This is precisely the high you’ve been chasing all night, and it only makes it sweeter knowing it’s with him. Your handsome, nice, and clearly well-endowed neighbor, Nanami Kento.

He's can’t stand not touching you any longer. His hands return to your waist, bouncing you on his lap like a rag doll, yielding to his every thrust. “You needed my cock today, huh? Needed my dick to pound this tight pussy of yours. Your stupid little toys weren’t enough, were they?”

You shake your head erratically, so close now. “Need you, Kento. Needed this fat cock inside me.”

He growls at the sound of his name from your mouth. “Fuck, I needed this too. Been needing it for a while now.” He latches his lips around your nipples, sucking on them until they’re plump between his lips. His thumb caresses your sensitive clit, massaging gentle circles around it. Suddenly, everything is too much. You’re gushing for him, coating his cock in your cream, all messy and obscene. Soon, he comes too, stuffing you full of his seed. Just when you think it’s over, he pulls out to lay you flat on the couch, spreading your legs wide, a naughty grin on his face before he dives in, lapping at your combined arousal.

You wake up with Nanami’s name spilling out of your mouth. Disoriented, you look around, finding yourself back in your own bed, alone. It was all a dream. A fucking dream (literally). Disappointed and still horny, you sigh, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up, calling it quits for the night.

To your surprise, there’s a knock on your door. When you go to answer it, Nanami stands before you, an obvious blush on his face and an even bigger bulge in his grey sweatpants. He steps towards you, a shy smile on his face. “I heard you calling my name. Sounds like you could use a helping hand.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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