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surftrips · 5 months

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CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO DIE

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

word count: 600+

summary: based on "follow you" by bring me the horizon. young/slightly ooc coriolanus snow finds comfort in y/n's arms.

a/n: yeah, i can't believe i'm returing from my hiatus with a coriolanus snow x reader fic, but here we are. please feel free to send in prompts/requests with him though ;)

"Because I don't want to fucking hurt you.” Coriolanus snapped. "God, half the time, I'm scared I could break you, even though I'm doing everything I can to hold back."

Your boyfriend was having a hard time lately. The anniversary of his father's death was creeping up and you knew he was having those thoughts again.

He had confided in you early on in your relationship his two biggest fears: losing you, and turning into his father. Now, he was spiraling with thoughts of both happening.

"Talk to me," you said, trying to reassure him. The two of you were by the lake, entangled in each other's arms on a blanket.

"I- I just..." he was trying to catch his breath. "I'm so angry all the time and you, you're an angel. You've never done anything wrong in your life. I don't deserve you, I don't know how to not fuck this up."

You couldn't help but smile at his name for you, reaching out to caress his cheek. He leaned into your familiar touch, one of the few things that could calm him down when he was like this.

It was true, he did get mad at the smallest things. Just last week, he got jealous of Sejanus for holding up your skirt as you went down the stairs, even though the two of you were clearly just friends.

And yesterday, he was frustrated with something that happened during training and came back to the cabin furious. You had asked him how his day was, like usual, and he had snapped at you.

"It was bad. Do you have to ask me that everyday?" he retorted, knocking over the items on the shelf closest to him.

But even though he got jealous or angry sometimes, you knew that he was working on it. He always felt awful afterward, and always made sure that you knew how sorry he was. That night, he had drawn a bath for you and even added some wild lavender he found near the water.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" you said.

He sat up slightly to make better eye contact with you, "I do. But what if that's not enough?"

You frowned, "My love isn't?"

"No, no. I meant what if love, in general, is not enough? What if that's not enough to change my fate? Y/N, you know about my father, he was awful."

"I know, Coryo," you sighed. "But I also know you, and you're a good person. You love me, you love the Covey. You care about me, and your family. You want to be good, and I think that is enough."

Still, he didn't seem convinced. "I hate that I can barely remember him anymore, but he's still haunting me. The rebels that killed him haunt me. What if that happens to me?"

"Stop. No one here is going to do that, they know you're on our side. Don't you see? You're trying so hard to not be like your father, but you don't have to try to be good. You just are, deep-down in here," you pointed to where his heart is. "You are."

He leaned down now to pull you into a kiss. "Angel, can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll never leave my side."

"Coryo, you could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. We're in this together."

That seemed to please him, finally. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you to lay back down with him. The two of you stared up at the stars, each silently wishing for this to work out.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x reader

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ecoamerica · 22 days

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elizabethemerald · 11 months

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Don't Sneak up on People with Swords

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2 made a prompt about Danny sneaking up on Jason Todd and @sky00asara made a comment in the tags about what would happen if Danny did that to Talia. So here is my version of that! Enjoy.

Talia al Ghul watched her beloved from afar. He was out, again patrolling his city for those he considered wrong doers. Her son was by his side. She scowled at how Damian’s fighting style had changed, softened in the company of her beloved. Despite her love for the man under the cowl, he had a tremendous ability to take even the most ruthless of killers and change them to spare the undeserving. He had even tried it with her.

She was hidden on the roof of an abandoned tower nearby. The tower had succumbed to fire and was now condemned until the city got around to destroying it properly. For now it made the perfect place for her to observe her beloved and her son work undisturbed.

“Excuse me?”

Talia whirled, drawing her blade as she spun. Her blade moved fast enough to almost cut the air itself yet the small shape ducked under her stroke and back-pedaled quickly to move out her range.

“Jeez! Why is everyone in this city so jumpy!”

The voice more than anything made her realize that the person who had somehow snuck close enough was an actual child. Their black hair and blue eyes made her wonder if this was another of her beloved’s adoptees. Except surely this boy was too young to catch Bruce’s eye?

“Well maybe you should not sneak up on people?” Talia hissed, her voice soft yet stern. To say nothing of how a child who couldn’t be older than five had snuck up on her at all.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t brood on the roof of my home!” The child snarked back, just like one of the Bat’s brood would, completely unafraid of the blade still in her hand. Talia raised an eyebrow at him then looked around at the burnt skeleton of the building they were standing on.

“This building is not fit for human occupation.”

“Neither was the last place I lived.” He said dismissively. “This place hasn’t even killed me yet, so it’s practically a paradise.”

She was tempted to take the child’s words as sarcasm, yet something in the way he spoke made her think he meant it more truthfully.

“You’ve died before?” Talia asked. She relaxed her hold on her blade, allowing it to rest at her side.

“Oh yeah, I die all the time.” He said, then he looked at her curiously tilting his head first one way, then another. “You’ve died too, huh?”

She nodded, now examining him closely, looking for the signs she would recognize. She could see the hint of a scar on the boy’s palm that might have caused a death.

“What is it with this town that so many people have died and come back?” The boy asked, apparently rhetorically as he didn’t let her answer. “First the stabby Robin, then the stabby Batgirl, then Batman, and even Red Hood. It’s like everyone I run into is contaminated.”

Talia’s eyes widened.

“You can sense those who have utilized the Lazarus Pits?” She would have to inform her father about this child. He could put the entire League of Assassins at risk. The child before her just shrugged.

“I have no idea what that is. Red Hood mentioned some kind of pit as well, but I’ve never seen anything like that. I just know y’all are contaminated with ectoplasm, though not enough to make a core.”

“What is this… ectoplasm?” Another name for the Lazarus Waters? Had there perhaps been a Pit outside of League control? In the midwest somewhere based on the boy’s accent.

“Oh it’s this stuff.” He held his hand out and Talia couldn’t help keep her expression of shock withdrawn despite all her training as his hand filled with the glowing green light of the Pits. He held the Pit Water in his hand then tossed the glowing orb to his other hand in a half juggle as if he weren’t carrying the League's greatest secret and weapon.

Nevermind telling her father about this child, he could never learn of him. If Ras had the power this child had under his control the world would never survive. There was only one option. She needed to train this child to wield this strength. With the stealth he displayed in sneaking up on her and his power over the Pits themselves he could make an assassin like the world had never seen. He could be the next Head of the Demon under her guidance. She knelt down to the boy’s level, slipping her sword back away as she did so.

“Tell me, young one. Are you living in this death trap of a building all by yourself?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ve got it taken care of. I know I’m little, but that just means people are less likely to notice me. I’m able to steal all the food I need from that big box store down the street.”

“Oh of that I have no doubt. My name is Talia al Ghul. What’s yours?”

“Hmm. I’m Danny.” The boy seemed hesitant to trust her, which to be perfectly honest was probably a very smart thing to do, but at least she had a name for this gift of Lazarus.

“Danny, how would you like to come live with me? You won’t have to steal any more, or worry about food ever again, and I could train you how to fight even better than the Bats.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking her over closely.

“Would I get a sword?”

“If a sword is what you want, then once you were trained in its use I would acquire one for you.”

Danny looked like he was about to nod, but then he froze, his head tilting to the side as if he was listening to something. His eyes widened and Talia tensed.

“Uh-oh. Fruit Loop incoming. I gotta go.”

Talia half turned as she heard the sound of one of her beloved’s grappling lines catching on the building’s edge. By the time she had turned back to face him, Danny had completely vanished. She hadn’t even heard him leave. She stood and scowled as her beloved landed on the rooftop next to her.

“Talia.” He grunted at her, glaring all the while.

“Beloved. Must you ruin every nice thing in my life?” Talia snarled back. The boy, Danny, had the gift of Lazarus at his beck and call and Batman had scared him off.

Bruce looked momentarily stunned at her fury, but quickly hid it behind his mask. However Talia couldn’t care less about her beloved right now. She just needed to lose him so she could return to find the boy. The boy who would change the world with his power.

#danny fenton #talia al ghul #dp x dc #batman #kid danny #deaged danny #talia is like this is my kid #he can be damian's brother #Danny does not want to get a new dad #a new mom on the other hand #I also had an idea where Jazz came out to check on danny #and fought talia to protect danny #and talia is like ooh two for one special #I get a new daughter and a new son #I can train both of them to over throw ras and batman

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traumxrei-archive · 1 year

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【 death scares 】

prompt #6: Oh, Great Seven, he thought they were going to die. Please don’t ever scare him like that again (ft. sebek zigvolt, jade leech, leona kingscholar)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 1.6k

a/n: hello, i finished my research proposal so i have time before my next deadline to post this >:DD it's angsty asf, but i made sure that it was hurt/comfort so dw i gotchu guys ^^

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek wasn't someone who usually got scared. He knew better than to succumb to such feelings that all but interfered with one's ability to act. It was one of the things he learned when he was training to be one of the Young Master's guards.

But when he saw you dangling from a broom midair, Sebek felt all the hairs on his arms raise. You were barely holding on, and he could see everyone shouting in alarm from where you were.

If you fell, then you would...

Sebek gritted his teeth, "Give me one of your brooms, humans!" His voice boomed over all the commotion, turning heads.

The person nearest to him stuttered, "But brooms are only meant to hold one perso—"

"Does that matter?" Sebek grabbed the broom out of the other's hands. "If you don't do anything, that human is going to fall!"

He hopped onto the broom, flying to where you were before shouting, "Human! You need to let go and get on my broom!"

"I can't!" You cried, your arms shaking with effort. "You'll get hurt, Sebek!"

"Human, I am ten times more durable than you," Sebek said as calmly as he could, bringing his broom closer to yours. "If I fell from this height and got hurt, it'd be an insult to the Young Master!"

"Sebek!"

"What is it?"

"Promise you won't get mad?"

"I can't," Sebek watched as your fingers started to slip. "But I'll promise we won't fall."

It was at that moment when you fell. He felt his broom shift under your weight, and he strained to reinforce it with magic.

But you were here.

You were safe, and that was all that mattered to Sebek. He could feel the pounding of your heart against his back where you clutched onto his uniform.

"What were you thinking?" Sebek ranted, his anger finally surfacing as they made their way to the ground. "Human, I'll have you know that you could've died or been seriously injured!"

"Not only that," Sebek turned to face you. "The fact that— You're...crying...?"

You held on to one of his sleeves, the tears dripping onto the grass below, "I'm s-sorry, Sebek, I didn't mean to...to do that, it just—"

Sebek sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder, "It is alright. You are safe now, human, I was just—" Worried...? Worried? The Sebek Zigvolt, worried about a mere human? But really, who was he kidding? You weren't just a mere human to Sebek, were you?

"I didn't want to see you hurt, is all," He finished lamely. And he could see your eyes sparkling— this time not with unshed tears. Great Sevens, what kind of feeling was currently strangling his heart? Was it...fondness?

Sebek felt his ears warm, quickly brushing off the blooming feelings in his heart, "I-It would be best to get your hands checked out, I shall take you to the nurse!"

You smiled at that. A small smile, but to Sebek it meant the world. He continued on, rambling about broom safety as he led you to the infirmary. If it meant that you were smiling and not crying anymore, then Sebek would more than gladly fill up the silence with his voice.

Jade Leech

Of all the things to happen today, he didn't think watching you put yourself in mortal peril was going to be one of them. Jade swallowed, trying to clear the stuffy feeling that seemed to sufuse his whole body.

He was waiting for you outside of the infirmary, the initial shock after the accident having finally subsided. Still, he couldn't get the picture of your body lying prone on the ground out of his mind.

"It was due to incorrect ratios," The nurse had said. "The alchemy potion had turned into a potent airborne poison. And if you had arrived any later..."

Jade didn't want to think about that part.

But soon enough, the nurse called him in. As he walked up to your bed, he couldn't bring himself to speak first. You weren't watching him, clearly focused on trying to open your water bottle.

"Let me," Jade's voice escaped him, and he saw your eyes widen when you saw him. He opened the bottle, handing it back to you without another word.

"Thank you."

Jade didn't know what else to say, his eyes following you as you drank. His mind brought back the image of you being unnaturally still. It was morbid. The thought made him sick, yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Jade-senpai," You met his gaze and he felt his throat constrict. "Are you...mad at me?"

Jade felt his lips twitch, "Why, pray tell, would I be mad?"

"I...I'm sorry, I wasn't being careful enough," You bit your lip, and he couldn't bear to be upset with you any longer. He sighed, taking a seat beside you.

He very slowly slipped off his glove, talking all the while, "Next time you find yourself having to do an alchemy assignment alone, do invite me."

"But you're busy," There was clear hesitation in your voice, even as his hand tentatively held yours.

"Kind to a fault," Jade said shakily, feeling unsteady now that he could feel the warmth of your skin against his own. "There's no need for that. Your safety is more important, and I would gladly spend time with you. At least next time take one of your friends with you just...just in case." Jade pressed his lips together. He didn't mean to nag. He didn't mean to talk much at all, but the sight of you pried all his feelings out him so effortlessly. He really couldn't win against you.

And like you knew exactly what he wanted to hear, you smiled, "I'm okay now. See?" Your palm cupped over his, bringing his fingers to rest against your neck. And sure enough, he could feel your pulse thrumming under his fingers.

Jade closed his eyes before opening them again, "Right. Now then, I will be overseeing your recovery from now on." He clapped, his magic swirling through the air to tug your blankets into a more acceptable state.

"Wait, what–"

"I'll contact your friends to let you rest for now."

"No, senpai, wait–"

"Surely you aren't objecting to rest, Prefect?" Jade smiled as politely as he could and he watched as you shuddered. "After all you almost di–"

"I'll be in your care then," You huffed, before patting his arm. "Just make sure you don't over do it."

"I won't. I'll be taking very good care of you."

Leona Kingscholar

"The Prefect got into an accident."

Leona couldn't understand how those words filled him with such dread. He couldn't even wait for Ruggie to finish, he was already rushing to the infirmary.

What did Ruggie mean by you got into an accident? What kind of accident was it? Were you okay? Sevens forbid that you were...

Leona gritted his teeth as he arrived. Irrational anger and worry wasn't like him. He took a deep breath, schooling his emotions before knocking on the door.

"Kingscholar," The nurse acknowledged. "To what do I–"

"The Prefect."

"...Right," They nodded before leading him toward where you were. The curtains were drawn and he couldn't...see you. "Don't do anything too rash."

Leona nodded, drawing back the curtain. His stomach dropped at the sight of you, your head wrapped up in bandages, and plasters covering your arms and legs.

You were awake, and you blinked as he stood there, "Leona-senpai..."

Leona heaved out a harsh breath, sitting at the edge of the bed. He didn't know what to do. Not when that ugly mix of anger and worry was bubbling at the base of his throat. Instead all he did was stare, as if any second an ugly red would mar the bandage on your head.

"I, uhm," You spoke first, your head turned downward. "It wasn't anyone's fault. We...had some rain at Ramshackle, and it leaked inside... The staircase, it... Ramshackle's old, so..."

"You're telling me the staircase fell in on you?" There was a surprised look on your face as he spoke. Even he couldn't understand the flatness of his voice.

"I...yeah," You clenched your fists. "Grim's okay, he was at the foyer when it happened, but..."

"So you almost died," At your nod, Leona felt the anger morph straight into fear. Died? The herbivore? You almost died?

He scowled at the thought as he pried your hands from the sheets, "Stop that. You're gonna make your injuries worse." His eyes met yours, and he could see the fear there too— in the way you trembled despite the day being warm.

"Herbivore..." He muttered before moving closer to you. He was mindful of your bandages as he held you, trying to ease your shaking.

"I was scared," You murmured into his shoulder. "I thought that it was the end, and—"

"You're here now," Leona soothed, and he wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort. "You'll be alright, herbivore." You pulled away with a weak smile and it took all of Leona's self control not to pull you back to him.

He sighed, hanging his head, "You...you drive me crazy. Really, do I have to cast protective spells on you to keep you safe?"

Your hand settled over his, "I won't object if you do. It might come in handy sometime."

"That's not the point. And you should sleep," Leona gently pushed you against the pillows. "How are you gonna get better enough to ask Crowley for more budget if you don't rest?"

"And..." Your voice was quiet; inquisitive. "You'll stay?"

"I wasn't planning on leaving," Leona braced his head against his arm. "Now sleep." That seemed to appease you, and soon enough, he could hear the steady sound of your breathing fill the room. And in the quiet of the room, Leona vowed never to let you fall into danger again. Not if he could do something about it.

ty for reading the hurt/comfort !! i hope that it uh, appeased your angst chasing for now, and if you'd like to read more of my stuff, check out my masterlist <3

#/trau writes #sebek zigvolt #jade leech #leona kingscholar #sebek zigvolt x reader #jade leech x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #angst goes brrrr #sorry y'all i like whump too much

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murdrdocs · 2 months

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explicit sexual content; major age gap (r is 18+); MDNI

it's wrong on a multitude of levels.

you're disrespecting your parents by letting this happen. you're probably direspecting yourself by letting this happen. but pleasure has a funny way of making any other concerns nearly insignificant.

but it's almost easy for you to forget about possible repercussions whenever you're being fucked within an inch of your life by ares.

legs spread, held open forcibly by two big hands that have caused more damage than you can even begin to fathom. he's splitting you open, a cock too big for you having been forced within your walls as he believed you were made to take him. that’s entirely untrue.

there was never any concern about fitting, or about how harsh he would be. because as far as he was concerned, you were a demigod, you were made to take a brutal fucking from a god like him. you could handle it.

the same way he believed you could handle his endless teasing. words meant to scare you doing just that when combined with a hand sprawled across the base of your throat, threatening to choke you if it's what he desired.

"don't you feel disgusting letting me do this to you? you know you're too young for me, little girl. far too young." he continues to slam into you, his balls slapping against your spread ass cheeks with each thrust.

he throws your legs over his shoulders, bends you in half, and gets in your face.

"you think your mother would be disappointed? because i know she would." he laughs in your face, big and boisterous as if you should be joining in too. instead, you're making pornographic sounds, little pathetic shaky groans.

completely undeterred, ares continues. "her pretty, perfect daughter, having her pussy split in half by me. she might actually be the first god to die if she found out. she might even disown you."

you try to turn your head away, hide the tears sliding down your face. but ares wraps his hand around your jaw and forces you to look at him.

"what about your little friends? hm? how d’you think they'd react?"

as if punctuating his statement, he turns to look at the cabin door, where just outside of the stone are your closest friends, your family, going about their day completely oblivious to what's happening in your cabin.

expecting you to answer, ares prompts you. "huh? you have anything to say?"

his fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout as you shake your head.

"no?" you shake your head again.

ares grins, big and powerful. "that's okay. you just lay there and take it like the good little girl that you are."

#ares x reader #ares pjo x reader #ares pjo #celeste writes pjo #aresworld!

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heartpascal · 1 year

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can we get more father figure joel? You know when Ellie killed the David, and then Joel comforted her? Maybe that but instead of Ellie it’s the reader, thank you <3

i am good

▹ joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you.

▹ — a/n: ok first request i hope it’s ok!! i know its kinda similar to the game but erm. its reader and joel this time!! and reader is much much less ok with the whole. murder thing but its ok bc joel is there to fix it <3 yes he is your dad no you don’t get a choice he has decided it

▹ — warnings: allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens but the intention was there), vivid descriptions of murder, reader is misled and attacked, similar to the game with ellie (so kinda spoilers?), joel is ready to kill for you (and does), lots of blood, tears, father figure joel, lots of angst and upset, vomiting

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Getting air into your lungs was proving to be one of the hardest things you’d had to do for a long time, which, considering the journey you’d been on, was shocking. The act of simply breathing should have come easily to you, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Not as you saw the reflection of your own bloodied face in the knife that was held up, a clear threat polluting the air.

You knew you had probably been lucky to even make it as far as you had — born into a world full of death and chaos and infection, you were bound to meet your gruesome end some day, but you didn’t want to die.

For the first time in a long time, your chest ached for the breath you couldn’t seem to provide, the want, the need to live almost suffocating you on its own. You had someone now, someone who cared whether you survived or not, who felt like you deserved even a glimpse at a happy ending, even if he didn’t like to state those things out loud.

Resentment was growing in your stomach, filling you with the need to be sick. Why did you always have to listen to the words Joel didn’t say, rather than the ones he did say? If you had just listened, conserved your trust for those who actually earned it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

When your hunting escapades had led you into a small horde of infected, you had just blindly put your faith in the aging couple who came to your aid, not thinking of what they might want for their troubles. You’d never had to escape without Joel’s help before, and you quickly discovered you weren’t all that good at it.

The two of them had dragged you back to their nearby settlement which they shared with a couple dozen others, all whilst you were kicking and screaming, trying to get away, your resolve fading each time they hit you to near unconsciousness. When they passed by a young man stood beside an older lady, you had called out to them, “Please, help me, please.”

“Gotta get something in return for the gear we wasted saving her ass,” the man had snickered to the two of them as glanced at the couple, just nodding at his words before turning back to their conversation.

You’d been knocked out when they approached a large community house, just getting a glimpse of the carpeted floor before the woman had struck her gun against the side of your head.

You had woken up in the middle of a chilled room, your arms straining with effort as you pushed yourself to sit up, seeing the woman holding a knife towards you. You couldn’t be sure how long it had been since they’d taken you, not with the way your stomach clenched with pain. The whole reason you’d been out there was to solve that, but you were sure that it had gotten worse.

“Listen, please,” your scratchy voice came out, much quieter than you had meant for it to be, “I—I can get you replacements for everything you used, but you gotta let me go.”

“We don’t gotta do anything, girl.” The lady snickered, as if even you saying such a thing was amusing. It made you feel small, powerless.

She got up, hearing her name being called, Cheryl, you noted, and sneered at you. Her skin was dull, and she looked vaguely ill, but that didn’t change anything about her threatening demeanour. At least one thing you’d taken from travelling with Joel was never underestimate your opponent, no matter how small, or ill, or kind they may appear to be.

Her hand grazed your face as she strode past, “Yeah,” she said quietly, like she was complimenting you, “You’ll do nicely. We’ll both enjoy you.”

You managed to avoid throwing up until she left the room, hearing a lock click into place. All that came up was bile, the clench of your stomach just becoming sharper afterwards. Your muscles felt weak, likely beginning to waste away with you having been inactive for a little while and injured, less energy wasted on muscle cells and more going into fighting off the infections that were likely trying to poison your blood.

Scanning the room, like Joel would’ve advised you to, you found nothing of much use to you. An old rickety chair, perhaps, but that would only help you if you could lift it, and you weren’t convinced you had the strength left within you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

Something deep in your chest nagged at you, the longing for Joel, probably. He had saved you on countless occasions, and you could only hope that it had been long enough that he had finally gotten worried. It seemed likely, he really did worry a lot for a man who wasn’t meant to care, but then there was the factor of him finding you, managing to take down all the people in the settlement that might fight to protect each other and—

You took a deep breath, finally feeling your lungs expand and take in some oxygen, and pulled yourself from the ground, keeping the bile that threatened to rise down as the nausea hit you.

The chair was lighter than you expected it to be, the insides of the wooden frame likely rotten away, and you managed to pull it towards the door, waiting beside it with shallow breaths. When the lock finally began to click open, you raised the lightweight chair as high as you could, and smacked it down against the person who entered the room. Splinters flew from it as it impacted, and you heard the clatter of metal as a tray they carried hit the ground with them.

Food, maybe, to keep you alive for… whatever it was that they had planned for you, you reasoned, but didn’t look to check. Instead, you grabbed a mostly-intact leg of the chair that caused splinters to dig into your palm, and stepped over the body of the man who had taken you, exiting quickly.

Footsteps hurried you, and you ducked behind a booth as they approached the room you were being kept in. There were lanterns lit all around the room, giving it a warm look that greatly contrasted the cold air and feel it had.

“Shit!” Cheryl cursed, and you saw her bend down to check on the man from over the top of your booth. A radio crackled though the air, before, “Lewis is down, the girl’s out. Anybody got eyes?”

Your fingers shook and you gripped on to the booth to stop them, hearing the distorted reply of whoever was on the other end of the radio, “She ain’t got out, yet, she’s gotta be in there with you. You need backup?”

“No,” Cheryl replied, her cold voice sending shivers down your back, “I’ve got her.”

The drag of Lewis’ clothes against the floor made you peak your head up, seeing her drag him into the room, before she exited and locked him inside. You ducked back down, heart hammering. You couldn’t escape from them in an open forest — how would you get out of a locked down building?

“Come on out, kid. It’s okay, you just gotta start behaving yourself.” She called, her slow footsteps failing to mask the sound of her unsheathing her knife. It wasn’t okay, it was very far from okay, you would argue, and you could feel that crushing fear of death pushing down on your shoulders, your chest constricting once again.

You tried to reassure yourself — you had faced countless amounts of infected and come out on the other side, what was one woman with very bad intentions? But it didn’t make you feel better, not when it was another human, who could feel exactly what you felt.

Her footsteps approached, and you leaped from where you were in the booth, trying to run as far away from her as fast as you could, but she caught up to you with surprising ease, your muscles clearly weaker than initially thought, and she grasped the back of your shirt, pulling you to a stop as you fell to the ground.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You cried out as she knelt down, one knee beside you and another pressing against your stomach, knife approaching your throat as soon as she settled you firmly against the carpet. It was red.

“You could’ve made this real easy for all of us,” she muttered your name, and you froze, having forgotten the way you’d yelled it out to them in the midst of the battle. “Be a good girl, now.”

You heard gunfire outside, and when her face glanced toward the guarded front door, you twisted underneath her, pushing yourself away to find enough room to kick the knee against the floor out from under her. She fell, her chin hitting the ground with a satisfying crack, and when she cried out, anger overcame you.

“You were gonna hurt me,” You said aloud, almost as if it was a realisation, rather than just fact. Your eyes hardened, gaze going red as you snatched the knife from her weakened grip. She reached out to try and snatch it back, but only got the drops of your blood that fell from the blade as you held onto it, twisting it until you finally held the handle. “Why— why were you going to hurt me?”

Her response didn’t filter through your ears, and the rage at how easily she and Lewis were going to do it pulsed, making your vision go blurry. When she sat up, tumbling forward to take you down again, you swiped her own knife until you felt the drag of something resisting it, and then you pulled harder, feeling something warm gushing down your hand.

Cheryl’s breath stuttered slightly, her hands rising to her chest as she groaned in pain. You looked down to your hands, where they were coated in a red that was darker than the carpet below them, and you were so lost that you didn’t notice her hand coming below yours, hitting it so hard that the knife went flying to the other end of the carpet.

Like a reflex, your fists came down on her face, feeling the shift of bones beneath your knuckles as they shattered upon contact. You didn’t stop, too wrapped up in the fact that you didn’t want to die, that she was going to hurt you, to kill you when she was done, she was going to tear you apart and throw away the pieces, she was going to take away what little humanity had left, she—

Arms pulled you away from the body beneath you, arms much stronger than your own, and you screamed, yelled out with your broken voice, “I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you, get off of me! I’ll kill you!”

The person shushed you, only holding tighter as you thrashed, turning away from Cheryl where she… wasn’t breathing. You stopped, tense muscles in your body going slack and burning as you stared at her, at her body, lifeless and covered in blood.

“Kid, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” said the person holding you— said Joel. Your hands dropped from where you had scratched his forearm, his arm covered in blood — though whether it was his, or Cheryl’s, or yours, you didn’t know.

He loosened his grip on you, eyebrows creased in concern as your entire body slipped when he moved his arms away, as if you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

“No… she— it wasn’t, I didn’t—” you trailed off, unsure of what to say, the words dead on your tongue, because you didn’t what? Didn't mean to kill her?

Joel followed your blank eyes to the body he’d pulled you from, and he turned your head towards him quickly, eyes hard. “No.” He said, and at your somewhat confused expression, he continued, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Joel, I—”

“No,” he repeated, and pulled your head towards him, keeping you looking away from Cheryl as a gunshot rang through the room, echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear Joel at first, as he held up the smoking gun for you to see, “—killed her, see? I killed her.”

“They were going… they wanted to—” You choked on the words, feeling that bile come creeping back up your throat, and you lurched away from Joel as it came out, feeling him pull your hair back from your face.

Something in his eyes settled, however, at the choice of word you’d used — they. So this body wasn’t the only one in here? His question was answered by a bang at a door on the other side, the way your entire body flinched at the sound.

The door splintered, and a battered man came tumbling out, hurrying over to where he could see people crowded. His face went red, and he began to shout, “You fucking bitch—!”

Joel shot one between the eyes, and the man crumpled before he could get anything else out. He turned back to you, to where you were hunched in on yourself. He shoved his gun back in its rightful place, and held your cheeks between his hands, gunpowder residue transferring to your skin.

“Do you hear me?” His muted voice said, and you looked up to his face with a confused shake of your head, “It was you or them, and the only answer is you.”

“But, Joel,” you were interrupted, and he wiped the underneath of your eye of a tear that you hadn’t even known had fallen.

“No. You listen to me, remember?” Joel affirmed, and you nodded, the tears falling more now that you’d acknowledged them, your hands shaking as you tried to look past Joel, but he just pulled your face back to him. “I’ve got you, kid. Keep your eyes on me.”

You turned your face into his neck as you all but threw yourself into his arms, and they wrapped around you like they’d been waiting to do so. You missed his pained expression at the words, and the way heartache burrowed in his chest as he stood the two of you up, his knees clicking.

He swept you up, as if you were the smallest and lightest thing he’d carried in years, and he carried you away, your eyes staying glued to him as the two of you left behind the carnage he’d caused in looking for you.

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

Text

Wanted to write something short and angsty but also with the dabble of fantasy. Enjoy

Yandere Short Stories: Loved By Death

Yandere GN Grim Reaper x Afab MMA Fighter Reader

A meadow full of forget me note greeted (your name) when she finally opened her eyes. The baby blue flowers felt unwelcoming despite their delicate scent. Where was she? All she remembered was winning the tournament and then… and then it was all blank.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet.” A familiar voice reached her ears which made her freeze. (Your name) whipped her head around to come face to face with her little sister. The young girl still had the same innocent appearance she had the last time she saw her… before she was murdered. “It’s not your time.”

(Your name) rushed forward and grabbed the little girl’s hand. She didn’t want to leave her sister, she didn’t want to live without seeing her face again.

“Ava, I’m here… I’m here with you.” (Your name) muttered, her expression hopeful. “Please, I want to stay this time. Please let me stay with you…”

Ava frowned and bent down to grab her older sister’s cheeks. Her thumbs brushed away the hot tears. Why were Ava’s fingers so cold? She was never so cold…

“You have a bigger purpose, big sister. You’re meant for so much more than chasing after death.” Ava whispered. “You need to let me go. There are people that will love you-“

“I don’t care about other people, I simply want to stay with you. I want to wake up from this hellish nightmare to see my precious little sister.” (Your name) clung to her sister who wrapped her small arms around her. Ava was cold like ice and it upset (your name) even more. “It’s my fault I couldn’t protect you. It should have been me-“

Ava placed her fingers over (your name)’s lips to silence her. “It’s not your fault, it was never your fault.”

(Your name) nodded her head and held Ava closer to her body. Her chin rested on the small girl’s blonde locks. Even though they were not related by blood, Ava was her most precious person. Her pillar and strength.

When Ava gruesomely died at the hands of a rival, (your name) couldn’t forgive herself. If she hadn’t gotten into a man’s world of martial arts, would the outcome have been different? Would Ava still be alive? What if she had just settled for an idyllic life rather than one of glory and gore?

(Your name)’s head spun with many what ifs, yet none satisfied her desire for a different outcome. So (your name) always settled for putting herself in the path of death every time. All so she could see her little sister once more, to sit in this picturesque field of flowers.

“You’re over thinking again.” Ava hummed while she pulled back. Her small fingers poked (your name)’s furrowed brow. “You keep furrowing your brow and you’ll put wrinkles on your pretty face. Then how will you ever get a husband?”

(Your name) bitterly laughed. “How could I ever love a man when they have only ever shown us violence.”

“You’re such a Debbie downer.” Ava sighed, the young girl pointed at the sky that showed a bloody (your name) receiving CPR by the paramedics. “You’re going to be in so much pain when you go back. You better hurry before you shorten your life even more. Stop your dance with death, before you do die for real.”

“And what if I don’t?” (Your name) asked in a hushed tone. “If I continue down this path… will I see you again or will I burn?”

Ava chuckled. “I thought you weren’t religious? We just won’t be able to meet for awhile is all. This is the fiftieth time this year that you’ve come to see me, you mad woman.”

“Is it so strange to want to see my most precious person?”

“It is. People are starting to think you’re the undead.” Ava stood up and held her hand out for (your name) to take. “Walk with me.”

“Of course. It’s what I look most forward to.”

The two girls walked together in the field of flowers for a few short minutes before they stood in front of a golden door.

“This is where we part again. Big sis?” Ava smiled warmly at (your name). “Please take care of yourself. I better not see you here again. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. No promises.” (Your name) put her hands in her pocket, the young woman giving Ava a warm smile. “I love you more.”

The two sisters then parted ways, Ava now left alone once more in her field of flowers. The young girl turned around to stare at the hooded figure that stood on the hill.

“For how long do you and my sister plan to dance, death?” Ava asked in a hushed tone, she was perplexed by the reaper’s fascination. “Do you enjoy this game that much?”

Death nodded, the skeleton’s red eyes admired the flowers that slowly began to rot and decay as they walked closer to Ava. “Until she begs me to take her.”

Ava rolled her eyes at the reaper whose bones rattled with excitement. Never would the blonde have thought Death was a lovesick fool.

The reaper sighed before he turned to Ava. “Do you think she’d like me if I had flesh? Should I be more masculine or feminine presenting?”

Ava glanced the skeleton up and down. “I don’t think she’s ever dated before so I don’t think it’d matter.”

The reaper hugged themself with their skeletal arms. How badly they wished to hug (your name), to hold her tightly and never let her go. They could picture it! They were sure (your name) would love to stay in this flower field with Ava and them till the end of time!

“You’re a freak.” Ava muttered at the skeleton who held their cheeks like a school girl with a crush. “Stop that. You’re supposed to be a grim reaper, not a grim simp.”

“You have no idea the magnitude of my feelings. To roam my entire existence reaping the souls of the deceased.” The reaper replied in a hushed tone. “And then to meet someone who just won’t die… whose soul will not stay in my real… she’s perfect.”

Ava sighed and sat down in the flowers. Her poor, unsuspecting sister was loved by death.

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readychilledwine · 7 months

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Hello. First of all thank you for that post, it amazing and no one has ever responded. I would like you to write another story of az where they have a child and she and her child get kidnapped. And she dies trying to the child. Az goes bolistic. (If u don't want the reader to die it's cool with me. Whatever u think is best). Thank u and have an amazing day ahead.

Eeeeee. This made little pregnant brain go meeeeep. I kind of changed it up. I didn't want to actively kill the reader, because I can't imagine Azriel ever pulling himself back together after that. I just imagine if Azriel found someone he loved enough to have a child with, it would devastate him. So. I put a spin on it. if I squeeze my eyes shut really tight, I can create a world where he finds a mate and heals with her, but that wound would always be there, and that creates angst. So this is loosely based on the aftermath of your request. I'm sorry it isn't perfect.

Replacement

Warnings - trauma, mention of torture, Az being kind of an ass.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

The words echoed in your mind. You aren't his mother! Azriel had screamed them at you so carelessly. Just because Xiden had come to you for a booboo. Just because Xiden had called you "mommy" and Azriel had heard it. How dare you seriously think you can replace her? What the fuck is wrong with you?

You loved your mate's son. You loved that little illyrian more than you could form into words. Shock had fallen into your own bones after he called you mommy and kissed your cheek, though. That wasn't a threshold you had meant to cross. It was an unspoken line in the sand. You were not his mother, and Azriel had managed to remind you quickly and make you feel so small over one word uttered by a child.

Your relationship with the two started a few years ago. You were Nyx and Xiden's private nanny. Rhysand had met you once in a volunteer childcare center. The two of you had talked about everything you had found important in raising little ones, and the High Lord brought you to his mate instantly. They had been looking for childcare whose values aligned with theirs for weeks, and Feyre, with tears of relief in her eyes, hired you on the spot and made a pay offer you would have been stupid to turn down.

You spent time with the two young boys constantly. You three would spend countless hours giggling. Your life ranged from cooking with them, playing with them, snuggling them, and doing basic school lessons with them, but mostly teaching them how to be good fae, teaching them right from wrong, showing them how to love and respect themselves and others.

Nyx was wonderful. You adored the little heir. But there was something about the way Xiden would hold your hand when you three would go for walks, the way he constantly searched for your approval. You can't remember if it was the first night he ran to your guest room on an extended care stay and buried himself so deep into your arms and pillows that made you love him, or if it was the solstice gift he drew of you, him, and Nyx that hung framed in your living room that sealed the deal, but you loved Xiden. Unconditionally and unexpectedly.

You had finally asked Feyre one night about his mother when she came over to bring you a birthday gift from the Inner Circle and the boys. Azriel had appeared after she told you gently Xiden's mother had died. He had the little male in tow. He had his wings tucked in so tight around him and his little footie pajamas and that made your heart tighten as he ran to you.

The bond snapped for Azriel as you were kneeled down, holding his son and comforting him. It snapped for you when you woke up to the male shirtless in your kitchen, making breakfast for the three of you after Xiden refused to leave.

There was no going back after that. Xiden had a room at your apartment now. You had things in their home. You and Azriel told each other everything. Well, almost everything. He still had not told you about his former love or where she was. Xiden had done it late one night after another screaming fit woke him up and had him crawling into bed with you.

I watched momma die, you had tried to tell him it was just a bad dream. But when his eyes met yours and he shook his little head, you shattered into pieces. I watched it, miss y/n. I watched them hurt momma.

You had approached Azriel about it gently, holding his hand as he closed you out. You didn't push the issue at all, knowing he'd tell you when he was ready to. You had, however, pushed for him to enroll Xiden into therapy with Madja.

That was almost 8 months ago now, though. Tonight had been the breaking point. It stung, knowing the male you adored had all but dismissed his son's feelings, and your own, without giving you a single explanation of why. You had left his home in silence despite him calling for you. You had shielded yourself for the time and sealed the bond so deeply into your heart that you couldn't feel him, and he couldn't feel you.

You curled deeper into the bed, holding your blanket tight against yourself as you cried. You had no interest in replacing Xiden's mom. You never set that as a goal in this relationship. You just wanted to love Azriel, love his son. You wanted to support them, be there for them.

A loud knock came at your door, and you ignored it. Then another, more insistent than the next, and finally, your door just opened. You knew it was him, that he had picked the lock. He made his way to your bedroom, opening the door without knocking and moving to sit on the bed next to you.

"I'm sorry, y/n," his hand found your hip as he tried to get your attention. "I lashed out, and I shouldn't have. It's just- It's hard. Knowing she should be here, but isn't."

"I never wanted to replace her, Az. I never asked to fill that role." You voice sounded as broken as you knew it would. Hours of crying finally had begun to show damage.

"I know, love. I know."

"You won't even tell me what happened to them. All I can do is offer him whatever I can based on what I know, and then i get yelled at for it. How can I comfort him, help him, and support him when I don't know the full story. How can I support YOU when I don't even know what happened?"

His jaw tightened as he looked at you. He had been avoiding this conversation for too long, and now it had come to a head. "When Xiden was 4, he and his mother were visiting her parents in Illyria without my knowledge." Azriel looked up, blinking tears away as his throat grew tight. "I had made a few enemies in the camp they went to, and they took them. It took us 3 weeks to find them and track them down. By time we got there, she was gone. Xiden was.." His jaw tightened again. "He was traumatized. He had watched them rape, beat, and torture his mother for weeks. He was starved, sleep deprived, and disassociated from us completely. I only added to that trauma by slaughtering every single male in that place without thinking about the fact that he was right there."

"He wouldn't let me touch him for weeks. He ran to Rhys and Cassian instead of me. And it killed me." Azriel was biting his lip, shadows stilled and wrapped around him as his wings also pulled in. "I will never forget her lifeless eyes, her body, her bruised face. I will never forget my son's broken mind and soul. I will never forgive myself for what happened to them."

You sat up, running a hand up and down his back and between his wings. "It wasn't your fault, Az. She wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

He broke then, sobbing out a gentle I know as he broke down. "I just don't want him to forget her, how much she loved him, how much she sacrificed for him."

"He won't," you said firmly. "He never will. He's six, Az. He remembers his momma. He knows I am not her." Azriel nodded. "Az, you need to forgive yourself. You can't move forward, and Xiden can't move forward, with this cloud hanging here." Another silent nod as he leaned further into your touch. "You need to give yourself permission to be happy, to move on, and to take care of him without being scared of the world."

"It's just so hard," you nodded this time, kissing between his shoulder blades. "I loved her so fucking much."

"I know. Her picture is still up in your office. I make sure to dust it every day. You also have some of her dresses still. A few of her blankets." His shoulders fell, guilt flooding the now empty bond. "Don't," you whispered. "Don't feel guilty for loving the mother of your child. Don't feel guilty for wanting to honor her memory."

"Please come back." Azriel sounded broken at the confession he was about to make. "He can't sleep when you aren't there." You nodded, grabbing a bag to pack an outfit for tomorrow.

Azriel watched you moving through the room in silence. "I wanted to talk about you moving in," you froze on the spot. "Or us finding somewhere for the 3 of us."

"Az-"

"I fucked that up, though, didn't I?" You shook your head, rushing to him and throwing yourself onto him and the bed. "Or maybe I didn't?"

"Of course I want to move in with you two." Your response was muffled into his neck. You could feel his smile grow.

"Perfect." He said.

"Perfect." You agreed.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #az x reader

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restinslices · 3 months

Text

Everything

PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 2459

Summary: Ares supposedly hates kids, so it’s really strange that he comes when you call. (Do not let the summary fool you, this is not fluff. Based on a dream I had a couple days ago. Warning for possible ooc Ares and brief mentions of abuse. Blink and you’ll miss it type shit)

“I don't wanna say”, Grover fingers fidgeted with each other as he purposefully avoided eye contact with you.

“We're friends, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then you have to tell me! You spoke to my father, I gotta know what he said! What was he like? I bet he was really cool! Man, I wish I could've been there and talked to him”, you looked down at your shoes and added more misery to your face than was necessary. It was extremely childish and petty but Grover kept refusing to tell you what your father Ares was like. You had to know though. You doubted he brought you up, but you still wanted to know what he said and what he was like when he was just out and about. Grover had the opportunity to have a long talk with him and that was something you'd kill and suffer for.

“I doubt you'd wanna do that” he mumbled, but you heard him.

“Why'd you say that?” You asked.

Grover refused to expound on what he meant… at first.

Everyone knew Grover couldn't hold water so it didn't take too much prodding before he spilled his guts.

The memory replayed in your head more than you'd like to admit, and if it were up to you, you'd no longer be a half blood.

It made you feel pathetic. Tons of gods- no. All the gods were shitty parents. After all, they had children with mortals and left the children on Earth, knowing they'd be hunted down. Plenty of half bloods died in a gruesome painful way and at a young age. Plenty of gods never claimed their children, even if they made it to Camp Half Blood. But Ares did claim you, so you assumed that that meant he cared for you in some way. He even gifted you with a double sided sword. Surely, he must've loved you.

You were foolish and you hated how foolish you were. You should've known he didn't care. He left you here with mortals and watched as your home life got worse and worse which was due to multiple factors including a piss poor mother and step family, the aura children of Ares give off that makes people around them experience rage and of course the random monster attacks that your family blamed you for. It was as if they thought you begged Ares to be his child. As if you'd ever do something as stupid as that.

The rain soaked through your hood, making your hair all wet and gross. You were an idiot. You tried coming home for the school year, thinking maybe your family changed. They said they did. They tended to lie a lot though. You got into a huge fight and stormed out and you were in such a hurry that you completely forgot to grab your pouch full of drachmas and you didn't wanna step another foot in that house. So now here you were, outside with freezing cold hands that couldn't be warmed because your hoodie was soaking and you couldn't call Chiron. Perfect.

You checked your pockets once again, hoping to find something other than the lighter and fruit roll up that was there but alas, nothing magically appeared. You held the two objects in your hand and an idea formed in your mind.

You could always set the fruit roll up on fire as an offering. You could pray to your father and hope he hears you and sends you something to help.

No. That's incredibly stupid. Could you even light a fruit roll up on fire? It didn't matter. Not only was that the stupidest offering ever but you refused to pray to him. You'd rather sleep out in the rain then sneak inside when your family was gone to get your shit.

You put the two objects in your pocket and let your head rest on your knees, exhaustion hitting. It wasn't even physical exhaustion. It was all mental and emotional. Like a leech was sucking on you constantly. Or a vampire. You'd prefer that. At least you'd die quicker.

The hum of a motorcycle filled your ears, getting closer and closer. Best case scenario, it was a neighbor. Worst case scenario, it was a murderer. Honestly, you'd welcome both.

The hum stopped and a familiar voice made you look up, “rough night”.

It was him. Ares. God of war. Father to who knew how many. It was someone you definitely did not want to see… or so you thought. Part of you absolutely despised him now and everything to do with him and wanted to rip him apart. The other part of you though still felt an immense amount of joy when you saw him and you wanted to cling to him like a child clings to its favorite toy. If you were alone, you would've screamed.

Then a thought crossed your mind. You didn't burn anything. You didn't make an offering.

“You were going to” he said, seeming to read your mind.

“Why are you here?” you managed to get out after some time of just staring at him.

“Why do you think I'm here?” he asked and you could tell by his tone he meant it sarcastically. Like “the reason is so obvious. Stop being stupid”.

Something about that sarcastic and irritated tone made you think back to what Grover told you.

“Why don't you like me?” You asked and you hadn't meant to. It was supposed to stay in your head.

He squinted his eyes at you and looked you up and down, “what?”.

You could've let it go. You could've said nevermind, thanked him and let him help. You couldn't though. You didn't know when you'd have this chance again (the camp visited them but damn, there was a lot of you) and if you did something to make him not like you, you wanted to fix it. But that wasn't your job, right? Parents are supposed to care for their kids.

You did that a lot. Your mind juggled opposite thoughts and it drove you insane. This was just the latest bit of juggling you'd been doing.

“Grover said he spoke to you-”

“Who is Grover?”

“Percy's friend. The satyr”. A look of anger flashed in his eyes. You knew he remembered Percy. You didn't give him time to start yelling about the 12 year old that beat him in a fight. “Grover said that he spoke to you. I asked what it was like and he said that you said that you hate kids. Even your own. And when we visit, it's the worst day of the year. So, I was just wondering why you don't like me. Is it something I've done?”.

Ares just rolled his eyes and sighed, “you're taking that personal?”.

“It's kinda hard not to”.

“I came to take you back to camp, not talk about whatever crisis you're having right now”.

You didn't know if you were angry because of what he said, or because of his effect on others. Either way, blood started rushing to your head. “I'm not asking for a lot. I'm asking for an answer. A simple answer. Why don't you like me?”

“I don't like any of my kids”

“And that makes it better?” You asked in disbelief. Ares just stared at you, emotion void on his face.

“Why do you do this? You keep having kids even though you hate them. Why?”.

“It's not that simple and I don't have to explain anything to you”. You wished he'd show emotion. Any sliver of it. He was too calm, too numb. You'd prefer him yelling at you but nothing seemed to phase him. He was talking to you the same way you'd talk to a toddler.

“It is incredibly simple. Just stop having sex with mortals. You already have Aphrodite -who is a married woman but whatever-” you rushed the last part. You didn't particularly care for the affairs between the gods. “How could your eyes possibly wander?”.

Seeing him show a sliver of anger when you mentioned Aphrodite only filled you with more rage. That’s what angered him? That’s what got emotion out of him? “Really? That's what gets you? What about me being drenched?”

“You chose to come out here” he said through gritted teeth. If you knew Aphrodite was the key to him showing any piece of human emotion, you would've brought her up earlier.

“I didn't choose this!” Your voice rose, “I didn't choose to be abandoned by my father and be stuck with a dysfunctional family for the rest of my life. You should be angry at that, not me mentioning Aphrodite. You should be enraged at the thought of anyone putting their hands on me and your hands should be covered in their blood! That is how it should be”.

“Believe it or not the gods aren't too keen on the idea of killing mortals”

“But turning them into various objects and ruining their lives when it's a boring Tuesday is ok?”. His face went back to being blank and emotionless and your plan to stop talking was scrapped. You weren't even sure what you wanted. You wanted him to show something besides anger. Sadness? Regret maybe? Just something to show that maybe, just maybe, he cared deep down and regretted leaving you.

“None of us asked for this. You all just decide to create and leave us. And you hating the people you created is… I don't know. And it's so stupid that I've spent years of my life trying to get you to be proud of me, only for it to be impossible!”.

“I claimed you didn't I?” he defended himself, but you scoffed.

“That's the bare minimum dad! That's like saying your kids should be grateful because you feed them!” You were full on screaming by now and you wouldn't have been surprised if a neighbor came out to see what the fuss was about. “I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. You probably hate being called 'dad’ and you don't care. You're never gonna get it”

“I try everyday to make you see me and you do everything in your power to not see me. To not see any of us. I would work myself to death for you. I would betray anyone close to me for you. If you asked me to burn down the world for you, I would. If you asked me to extinguish the sun, I'd find a way to because to me… to me you were everything. You are everything”.

You couldn't tell if your face was wet from the rain, or from tears of sorrow and anger. It could've been both. Your eyes certainly stung and you hated it. You knew you had every right to be frustrated, but you hated how weak it made you feel. The children of Ares weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to be headstrong and fight their enemies. They were supposed to be fierce warriors capable of bringing armies down to their knees. They were meant to shed blood, not tears.

You thought for a second you saw an emotion cross his face. You couldn't pinpoint it though. It happened too fast and there was a good chance you were imagining things.

“You can go. I'd rather sleep in the rain. I wouldn't wanna be even more of a burden” you spat with such venom you didn't know it was possible. Sure, you could have a bit of a temper but this felt different. It wasn't just anger or annoyance. There was a mix of grieving.

It went silent for awhile, and the adrenaline you felt slowly went down. Reality started to sink in. You just yelled at a god. People who were known to cause destruction for something as small as “I think my shoes are better than yours”.

“Are you gonna curse me? Or, I don't know, strangle me with my own shoe laces?”. Ares reached into his pocket and you looked away and closed your eyes. You expected to feel a burning sensation. That's what you assumed being cursed was like. A burning sensation and then you'd lose a limb or something.

All you felt was something land on your lap. You looked down and saw a red pouch with gold string keeping it closed. You looked up at him, but he didn't say anything. You untied the string and opened the pouch and inside laid a pile of drachmas.

Now he spoke, “call Chiron or whoever else works at that camp. Don't die out here”.

“You're leaving?” You asked. You didn't know why you were disappointed. You should've been happy. After all, you just went off on him about how shit he was.

“I have a busy schedule”. You wanted to ask if he'd be seeing the married woman he slept with or another unfortunate mortal, but you figured you pushed your luck enough today.

“Thanks uhh…” you debated on calling him dad but instead you called him by his name. “Ares”. Then you remembered some gods could be particularly upset when you used their name. “God of war and all those other honorifics”.

“Yeah” was all he said before he sped off, leaving you alone once again. You didn't know what he was saying “yeah” to but you didn't have enough time to ask and he probably wouldn't even answer.

You called Chiron and asked to be brought back to camp but you didn't tell him about the conversation you had with Ares.

You couldn't get the conversation out of your head, even after you showered and laid down to finally get some rest.

Of course you kept thinking about the conversation and how lucky you were Ares didn't throw you into the street and run you over.

Another thing stayed on your mind though.

You didn't give an offering. You were told the gods would listen if you burned something that mattered, like the thickest piece of meat on your plate. You weren't sure they were actually listening and honestly you thought it was a real asshole condition.

All you had was some stupid candy and you didn't even burn that and the minute you thought about it, he appeared like he was already watching.

But you doubted he was watching. You doubted he listened to your prayers at all.

You were one of his children which was something he hated. He'd claim you, possibly send a gift then be done with you. He didn't listen to you anymore. He didn't watch over you anymore.

It was a coincidence. That's all it was.

You were sure of it.

At least, you tried to be.

This is definitely ooc Ares but YA’LL KNOW I’M A LITTLE FUCKING SLOW! BE PATIENT WITH ME GOTDAMMIT😭 If you saw any errors, no you did not. I already proofread it once and I don’t feel like doing it again like I typically do. It’s 1am. I should be asleep.

#percy jackson #percy series #percy jackson ares #pjo tv show #ares pjo #pjo series #pjo angst #percy jackson angst #ares x child #ares x reader #ares angst #idk what else to tag #ares would’ve probably drove off but LISTEN-

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imhenritz · 7 months

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Giving him the love he deserves (Sanji x Reader)

I have had this idea in my head for quite some time. I enjoyed writing it, but I don't know how to continue and if I would.

Reader is Mc or Main Character, but I made it sound like it's a name! I'm too lazy to think of a real name. Forgive me! Y/N didn't feel right somehow *sweats* Could this still be considered x reader? Oh god.

The prompt in my head goes like this: "The reader gets sucked into One Piece after wishing that someone would love Sanji like he is supposed to be loved, as nobody has given him a chance. She would love to give him that chance if only she could. One time, she was in her room, falling asleep while recording her voice for a cover request sent to her. When she woke up, she found herself in a boat floating, wearing pieces of jewelry fit for nobility. Her neck, ears, and bracelets were all glittering in the darkness." Story under the cut! Part 2 here!

She hated the dark. There were no lights to be seen, and her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognizing she had been in a lifeboat. A medieval one; she knew this because of museums she had visited, always drawn to pirate ships, wondering how it would be then.

Everything was quiet, like she was completely alone and trapped. Shouting would be pointless at this point. Absent-mindedly, she started singing "Jolly Sailor Bold." It had been a few days; she was starving and weak. She caught herself and huffed, “If I die, I might as well go in style,” she continued.

She kept repeating it until she got tired and chose to lie down and look up at the stars. They were never this clear in her city.

When she woke up, it was with a man with a braided blonde mustache talking to a few more men. “Ah, the lass. Must be shipwrecked.”

“-Must be loaded…”

“Jewelries…”

She could barely catch their whispers. Groggy and weak, she looked up at the man. It must have been dawn. “Please help me.” Holding her throat, she felt the jewels that were like stones. “Take everything-” She wet her lips, trying to swallow the moisture in her mouth, which she didn’t think was there. “Jewel… Please.”

She lost the ability to talk but could feel a soft arm taking her in. The smell of aftershave and nicotine lulled her to sleep.

“I got you, Madame.”

She woke up to Sanji greeting her with food and saw her eat it without any grace, making him let out a chuckle, and she glared weakly, more embarrassed than mad. “I’m sorry; I lost count of how long I was in the sea.”

“Try 85 days.”

“What—85?” her eyes widened as he grinned. He gestured to the seat next to her bed, and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I think I was only there for a week—”

He shook his head. “It’s not about the days. It’s experiencing hunger. You gave up every bit of your jewelry, you know.”

She reached for her neck and huffed. “Those jewels meant nothing if you can’t eat or drink.”

“Damn right.”

Her eyes went to the door, where she recognized the man who saved her. She thought she was in a dream before, but it’s uncanny how both are real-life versions of Zeff, and now looking at the young blond man at her side—Sanji?

“You’re an aristocrat. I’m sure a few pieces won’t go missing,” the older man grumbled. He kicked the young blond’s head. “Give up the seat, little eggplant.”

Sanji lookalike grumbled but did mutter, “Old shit bag.”

She gasped, blinking, piecing things together. “Little eggplant…” she muttered in disbelief.

“I assure you it has nothing to do with—”

Zeff lookalike chuckled. “I assure you he is every single bit of a little eggplant,” he smirked and brushed his mustache down, making them bounce up, resisting the brush. “They call me Zeff. What’s your name, lass?”

“Mc, sir,” she bowed deeply. “I owe you my life, Sir Zeff. Please let me repay you somehow.”

“Another one on the bag,” he mumbled.

The blond man saw the chance and began, “My name is Sanji. You can call me whatever you—”

“—Your family must be looking for you. Where are you from?” Zeff watched as she gulped and looked away from him, mouth opening and closing with no words. “I can’t let you stay here and be seen as a kidnapper—”

“—Old man, what if she runs away? We have extra rooms—”

“No, no stuff on the boat. It’s shipwrecked. Can’t let the place close because of a stowaway—”

“NO!” she stopped him with a loud voice, causing both to stop. “I’m sorry. This might sound crazy, but I’m not from around here. I don’t think I am,” she gulped.

“Could you have amnesia?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Please don’t kill me, but I think I know who you are and where I am. Please let me finish.”

She gave them a recap of what she knew, and both men were quiet. She pulled on her IV, hissing at the pain. “I’m sorry. I will go now; I’m sure you won’t want anyone like me here, after knowing all of those. I think the jewels are real. Although I’m not sure if they are since I just woke up wearing them—”

“You are staying, lass.”

“I know. I’m sorry—let me.” She stood, but her legs didn’t work as they were supposed to, and she fell on her knees. Sanji was there to help her.

“I know I gave you 85 days as a hint. But damn, giving out the whole story. So you know me and everything?”

She nodded, and Zeff began to laugh. “Just when I thought I had seen all the world has to offer.”

“You’re just going to accept this, you old man?”

Zeff smirked, “Anyone could have lied better than that.” He looked at Mc and smiled. “I won’t have a freeloader here. You know what this place is, then.”

She nodded, “I can wash the dishes, clean the toilet—wait tables.”

“God no. I don’t need a woman in my kitchen or in the toilet. You’ll wait tables. You start tomorrow.”

Sanji stood, still supporting her. “She can’t even walk!” he protested.

Zeff was about to reply when she patted Sanji’s hand. “I’ll start tomorrow, sir Zeff. Thank you so much.”

"Just Zeff will do, lass"Zeff grumbled and began walking to the door, hearing Sanji sweet-talking her as she left. “Patty will help you with your clothes.”

Sanji paused and shouted, “Old man, Patty won’t know what fashion is if it knocks on his head!”

Zeff glared. “More than you.”

**===**

“I have to say, having the girl waiting on tables isn’t bad,” Patty said, seeing how everyone can actually work in the kitchen better now. She works fast, and all the cooks have to do is the labor of bringing out the heavy meals.

“She has a great smile, pleasing personality—”

“Charming!”

“A sight for sore eyes, you lot aren’t,” Patty chortled, laughing as he proceeded to cart in the finished meals. He smirked, seeing one certain sous chef who was grumbling under his breath as he was stirring a pot. He walked closer, pushing the cart to a designated dishwasher for the week. “Got to get a move on that soup.”

Sanji glared and hissed, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Never thought I’d see the day you would hate being in the kitchen,” Patty leaned forward from the preparation counter.

“Who hates being in the kitchen?” Zeff entered, making Patty straighten up and busy himself, but not before smirking with Carne. “The shit cook wants to wait tables, boss.”

Zeff rolled his eyes, “He is staying in the kitchen. Can’t afford to have him kick another customer out on a whim.”

Sanji took off the ladle he had been stirring and turned, “He was flirting with Mc!”

“And?” Zeff huffed, “You do the same with every woman who darkens the door, little eggplant.”

“Yeah!” Carne added, “She must have learned that from you! That woman charms women and men! Makes you look like an amateur!”

They laughed. “Someone’s getting a taste of their own medicine.”

“Ooooh, getting a taste of their medicine?” Mc walked in, heels clicking on the tiled floor, smiling. “Who is it this time?” She looked expectantly at everyone, who dispersed. “Hey!”

Sanji was about to float over to her when Zeff interrupted. “Lass, your notepad seems to be getting thinner.”

Mc looked down at her little notepad, with a grimace she apologized. “Sorry, Zeff, I just take so many notes. I would need a new one tomorrow.”

Zeff chuckled, “Those notes make customers feel like you’ve known them forever. Take this and buy yourself a whole stack of notes—”

“—Thank you!”

“I can, of course, escort you tomorrow!” Sanji offered, now getting to Mc, who was glowing from the berries that Zeff had handed over.

“Oh no, no need, Sanji. It’s just notes. I can handle it.”

“Get the lass the notebook from my room, Sanji. This one won’t last the night.”

Mc smiled at Sanji, and he went tapping Carne, gesturing to the pot.

As soon as Sanji left, he pulled out a list. “Take him to carry stuff.”

“Oh, okay,” Mc nodded, going over the list that had meat and rice on it. “That makes sense. It’ll be best to get everything at once.” She gasped. “I almost forgot we got this order from table 8, 5, and 2!” ripping off three papers and pinning them overhead of the pot Sanji was cooking.

She breezed out of the kitchen when the bell rang. “Thank you again, Zeff!”

She exited the door when Zeff hollered, “Buy yourself something else too!”

If she was drawn at that moment, she would surely have flowers in the background.

Carne looked at Zeff, who just returned it with a raised brow. “We got enough ingredients for next week.”

Zeff brushed his braided mustache. “The little eggplant deserves the break for how obedient he has been lately,” he chuckled. “Even volunteered to wait tables!”

**===**

“I’m pretty sure by the way you keep feeding me this expensive food, I’ll be in debt forever, Ji,” Mc sighed in content as she savored the dessert she just served earlier, which cost berries she'd earn in a day.

“Then you’ll stay forever with me,” Sanji winked, wiping the utensils they washed together dry.

Mc grinned, “You won’t hear me complaining,” taking another bite, she remembered something, causing her to pause.

Sanji paused and bit his cheek, watching the spoon in her mouth and her fishing out a paper and sliding it to him. “I hope this is a love letter.”

Mc pulled the spoon clean and held it up. “Unfortunately not, I thought about giving you one with the orders, but I don’t know if Carne or Patty will process the order instead, so I held back.”

Sanji blinked. Mc had always flirted back with him and accepted his flirtations, but he always thought it was a game they were playing. She was just charming, and she knew his past; why would someone like that return his love?

“I have a favor to ask, Sanji.”

He raised a brow, taking the paper but not opening it. “It’s a yes, whatever it is, darling.”

Mc opened her mouth to respond as if it was their usual game when she paused and stopped his hand from picking up the slid paper he just covered with his hand.

“Take me out on a date.”

His mind stopped. He watched her eyes, vulnerable and sincere. “Darling…” he trailed.

She can’t be playing with him. She must know how he couldn’t resist females, especially not her. Someone he treasures.

They went on a date. He planned it all out. She made him feel like he is the only man she could see. It was addicting to have all her attention just on him.

**===**

No one asked how old she was; no one was crude enough to ask, not with him, Carne, Patty around. She had always acted maturely. He was sure she was young, younger than him in appearance at least. Her mental age was around mid or late 20’s. Her actions were so, as he observed from their patrons.

It had been years since she drifted on their restaurant. Ever since his 19th birthday, Sanji had noticed her checking the orders or peeking at the customers as if waiting for someone or loud noises. She knew what was going to happen but refused to tell, afraid it won’t happen.

Then the chore boy appeared. Mc was so gentle and nice to him, always saving him and sneaking him food and patting his head. It wasn’t like she wasn’t giving him attention, but she was giving more energy to him. He didn’t like it one bit.

It was night; she was out for her regular singing at night, a small boat a few meters away from the restaurant. She never told anyone; they believed she assumed nobody could hear her, but they did. Everyone kept their windows open to hear her sing.

In her long nightgown covering everything but her hands and face. The glow of the night lamp she brought with her gave her a soft, ethereal glow.

“I always wanted a musician! Be my friend!”

Sanji’s heart leaped. If she left with the chore boy, he would never see her again. She smiled and patted the boy’s head, pushing his straw hat out of the way. “I can only play the guitar and not that well though.”

“Who cares? We can find one that plays music! We’re friends now!”

Her peal of laughter filled the darkness. “I’ll be just a singer then?” she smiled and sighed, “I would only in one condition.”

“Condition?”

She urged him closer and whispered, and before the boy could shout it, she held a finger on his lips. “You can’t tell anyone.” Part 2 here! Thank you for reading! I've never written for Sanji or One Piece before, but this idea won't let me sleep. It's a shame to leave it in my drafts to collect dust. Here's my tribute!

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wyllaztopia · 14 days

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You mentioned that if we know Denji’s characterization of Killer and Killer’s original backstory that we should understand why he’s so touch starved and has such a messed up definition of love. Is there any way you could tell me who Denji is?? I’m very curious now lol

Denji is a character from Chainsaw Man. I recommend you read the manga or watch the anime - though just the anime alone won't grasp the inspiration I derived from the character into Killer.

I also took inspiration from Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen) but more so from his younger self more than the present Gojo.

(These are just drawn for the sake of meme-ing, not actually AG Killer's design)

Further down is explanation and slight spoilers. I don't talk much about it since I want most information to be a slow burn reveal for the characters, as if the audience is getting to know the AGDT cast in real time. (I am a sucker for narratives where it keeps you wanting to psycho-analyze a character rather than revealing everything upfront.)

Starting off with Denji, he's a teen boy who suffered through poverty and taken advantage of for labor just because he's willing to do anything just to get by in life. He's a boy who will do anything to live a normal teen life without having to worry about if he'll die from starvation. Along the story of CSM, he's been treated poorly due to how easily he can be manipulated - he literally has no idea of his own rights as a person. He's also very emotionally unaware because he's lived all alone his life except for a friendly devil named Pochita, who gave his heart to Denji so he can live and become chainsaw man to protect himself. Again, this is just a rough summary I made of Denji's character and I can't exactly explain it here! I recommend watching character analysis video that can further explain him or- you can also check at the original source (manga or anime) yourself which I believe will be worth it since CSM is such a good story.

In AGDT, I suppose you can consider Chara as Killer's Pochita, but in a more unhealthy / partners in crime way. I'll leave that up for the future to explore since at the moment, that's not what I want AGDT to focus on.

As for young Gojo, he's also complicated. He believes himself to be invincible and he can rub off as cocky most of the time. In the story, he holds no compassion or positive feelings for people who are weak - which is essentially everyone for him since he views himself as the strongest. This changed for a while when he was tasked to protect someone - he grew fond of them. However, later on this care disappeared when he perfected a technique - his feeling of pride for himself was stronger than his care for the person he was meant to protect. Gojo is usually nonchalant and playful, also emotionally unaware most of the time as he only thinks about himself (and a fellow 'strongest one' ahem, Geto but that's something I'll ramble for another day). However, he does go absolutely crazy when he's in intense fights since he's absolutely determined to win out of pride.

I would love to talk about what else Killer takes from Gojo but I'd feel like I'd be spoiling everything so I'll leave it for another time to talk about or explore.

There's other medias I took inspiration from for other parts of AG Killer but again, it's a subject to navigate around another time.

I hope this gave some insight on how this variant of Killer is and I hope you enjoyed reading through it!

#lore dump #my artwork #csm denji #jjk gojo #agdt killer #ardent gospel #ag dreamtale #agdt #killer sans #ask

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castiwls · 16 days

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labyrinth - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'oh no, i'm falling in love. Oh no, I"m falling in love again'

Requested; @beanysofa

Notes; this song is so cute i love it sm! requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Oh no i’m falling in love

Falling in love after Jessica had seemed impossible. Just the thought left a queasy feeling in his stomach and an overwhelming sense of guilt. Falling in love would be betraying her, betraying the life they could have had.

He’d never admit it but the thought of love scared him. Everyone he’d ever loved seemed to die or leave and every time it seemed like it was his fault. Sam had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that finding love was something he was simply immune to. While he craved the affection and security that came along with love he knew his love only put people in danger.

And he refused to let anyone else be put in danger due to him. But the world seemed to tilt on its axis when you first appeared in his life. The walls that he’d built over time came crumbling down more and more every day.

The first time he’d realised what was happening was a week after you’d first appeared in his life. Sam had found himself yet again immersed in research when he’d been broken from his concentration by a plate being placed in front of him.

He stared at the plate for a moment before turning his head. You smiled shrugging slightly, “You’ve been at it for hours. You need to eat.” You gestured to the plate before glancing at his laptop. He felt his breath catch slightly as you placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to get a better look at the screen.

Clearing his throat he looked back to the plate before him. “You made me a sandwich?” Sam smiled slightly feeling you lean back, your hand still on his shoulder. “Well, I didn’t think you’d appreciate a burger.” You laughed lightly.

Sam let out a small laugh of his own, nodding his head slightly. You’d already noticed his eating habits enough to know what he did and didn’t eat. Did you really pay that much attention to him? The thought left a warm feeling in his stomach. You cared. “Well,” you gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. “I’ll let you continue. But promise me you won't sit here all night? It’s not as productive as you think.” You teased.

“I promise you I won't sit here all night.” Sam turned back to face you. You nodded before turning to leave. He frowned slightly at the loss of your touch, feeling the space where your hand had been slowly cool as you disappeared around the corner.

Taking a breath he turned back to his laptop. He started at the sandwich again, feeling a smile pull at his lips. The thought of you paying attention to him enough to realise things such as what he ate and his less-than-healthy sleeping habits left him feeling slightly giddy inside. A feeling he hadn't felt since…since Jess.

As he sat the realisation of what these feelings meant slowly dawned on him. He was doing the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do again.

He was falling in love.

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Over the last few weeks, Sam had come to the realisation that he was in fact falling in love, and he was falling fast. He’d learned from a young age that he was someone who seemed to love too hard. Someone who fell hard and fast and then had to deal with whatever the fallout was after.

But you were someone that he couldn’t help but fall for. He knew it was a bad idea. Falling in love always seemed to be yet his head and his heart seemed reluctant to agree.

Sam stiffened slightly as you fell onto the couch beside him. Your leg pressed against his as your head fell back against the couch. “Tired?” He smiled tilting his head down to look at you. You let out a breath sending him a slight smile. “You have no idea.”

You stared at the ceiling for a moment and he couldn’t help but slowly trace your features with his eyes. He barely noticed the smile that grew on his lips as he watched you blink at the ceiling.

Just being close to you was enough to raise his mood and make his day better. Suddenly your eyes moved to his and he felt his breath catch. A slight blush crept on his cheeks as he realised he’d been caught staring.

Much to his surprise you said nothing, you didn’t even tease him you just simply held his gaze. After a moment you let out a quiet sigh, your head dropping to his shoulder. You both stayed quiet, as his gaze stayed on you.

Slowly his body began to relax more into the couch. Cautiously his hand slowed moved until it brushed against yours. He’d noticed the way your breath had slowly begun to grow slower as you’d sat and was slightly surprised when your hand wrapped around his.

His eyes moved down to where your hands were joined and his blush seemed to grow even more. Laying his head against yours he felt his own eyes begin to droop.

He knew he was done for. You’d waltzed right into his life and seemingly claimed his heart against his will and there was nothing he could do. The realisation had hit him like a truck that he was falling in love again. But maybe he was okay with that, maybe he was okay with falling in love as long as it was with you.

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thewitchqueenofharrenhal · 7 months

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I do think it’s interesting that a lot of the criticism leveled at Alicent and her fans are summarized as she is “perfect victim who just cries prettily” that’s why you trad wives love her.

When in reality a lot of the hatred she faces as a character stems from the fact she stops being a perfect victim.

A lot of people who love and have empathy for Aemma Arryn despise Alicent Hightower. Despite the fact the two are essentially twin characters. Both child brides sold at the alter of House Targaryen supremacy. Both Aemma & Alicent are meant to serve Viserys and know their place. They are royal wombs meant to bring forth more Targaryen children. Their wants, their desires are meaningless. Their very lives forfeit.

For all the purported love Viserys claims to hold for Aemma he is awful to her both in book and show ensuring her early death by constant pregnancies starting when she is what? 12? 13?

It is not until she dies that she is revered as having done her duty well. As knowing her place. As having served well. She made the biggest sacrifice. She was a good Queen and a good woman just like Viserys’s own dead mother in childbirth Alyssa Targaryen. After all if Alyssa Targaryen’s biggest want was bringing forth sons for her brother. Why shouldn’t Aemma Arryn aspire the same?

We are informed very little about this young Queen Aemma who held a fantastic court. Told little if at all about her wants and desires. Compared to her grandmother Alysanne she is but a footnote.

That’s not to say she was, that’s not to say she didn’t matter. That is however the way the narrative frames her and that is what Alicent Hightower was supposed to be.

Except Alicent Hightower doesn’t die. Despite being a splendid Queen, despite doing her “duty”, despite “loving” Viserys and Rhaenyra. She is sidelined to the Queen who had the “good grace” to die in service to her husband.

It is once Alicent Hightower decides to stop “knowing her place” that she becomes a problem. She dares make herself and her name as important as the legendary royal house she was married into. She dares place her children above all. She is avaricious, reaching, usurping, entitled, conniving. So many negative words are leveled at her because she dared. She is a vile problem for all because she didn’t place the neck of her and children on the block and begged for mercy from the likes of Daemon Targaryen. Like she was supposed to - if she knew her place.

Forgive me if I don’t hate Alicent Hightower for bringing chaos on the House that was happy to rip Aemma apart and would have gladly done the same to her if given the chance.

#hotd #asoiaf #alicent hightower #was Alicent perfect #no #but i understand #her #same way I understand Rhaenyra #both make terrible decisions #but was the alternative

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cheemscakecat · 4 months

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Bucket Scene Analysis pt. 2

Now that I’ve talked about the rest of RED, I want to look at how the Bucket Scene affected Spy; because doing everyone’s wish meant more than his teammates realize.

First of all, he came up with the idea of writing down everyone’s last wish and then working as a team to fulfill them. Spy is usually cynical and tries not to show how much he cares about the rest of RED. Scout and Pauling are the exceptions because one is his son, and one is young, naive and hopelessly devoted to that old hag Helen. Pauling doesn’t usually get positive reenforcement for working so hard, but in the comics we get to see Spy complimenting her.

[WOW they made him pale] Anyways, gathering the last wishes is a sign that when it comes down to it, Spy cares about the rest of RED team, and he wants them to die feeling fulfilled instead of downtrodden.

It’s also important to remember that Scout knows they’re all going to die. Spy’s going out of his way to make the most of these last hours, and he’s assuming that Scout will do the same since dying changes things. And, as stated in Part one, Scout was equally upset when Medic announced that they had three days. That’s why Spy trusted his son to collect everyone’s last wish. Here’s what Spy said before his day was ruined with the prank cards:

”This is a bucket.[..] It contains the dying wish of every man here. […]Gentlemen, synchronize your death watches. We have seventy hours to live. For most men no time at all. We are not most men. We are mercenaries. We have the resources. The will. To make these hours count! The clock is ticking gentlemen. Let’s begin.”

This is in stark contrast to how BLU Spy talked to his teammates in Meet the Spy, especially Scout. RED is complimenting his team and trying to uplift them before they die, not talking down to them. Which leads me to believe that he’s being sincere, not trying to make himself look good before he dies. Unfortunately, Scout decided to prank him instead of helping with this, and we see his reaction in real time.

First card- Spy is disappointed that Scout drew a joke card instead of writing his last wish.

”I have something radiating off of me.”

“Yeah, those are stink lines. That’s why the car hit him. Cause he smells!” [Heavy smiles at Scout.]

Spy is visibly upset but decides to just read the next card, hoping it’s a real one even if Scout’s is not. But it’s another more offensive insult.

Third card is yet another insult, and he’s realized that there’s probably only one useful card in the bucket. Presumably it’ll say where the real wishes are, or be a gotcha for Scout to hand him the real cards. Spy is trying to just get through them and not react to the jokes so he can get back to the task at hand. But you can tell that it’s taking the wind out of his sails.

Four cards, there’s only one left after this. Three have been sexual, which is extremely awkward coming from his son whether he realizes or not. At least two teammates at the table know this.

Card five is not in fact real, and it’s the last straw because that means Scout didn’t bother to get the real dying wishes from anybody. So Spy outright asks the others as confirmation that they were never asked. If that’s the case then they’ve wasted time and they’re back at square one. But maybe somebody will side with him because they had their time wasted.

But they don’t, do they? They smile at Scout, which means nobody is going to chastise him for being so immature. Spy doesn’t even get a verbal reply or someone shaking their head “no”. This is how he realizes that nobody else cared about this in the first place, and he’s on his own. Even the two people that know his relation to Scout don’t come to his defense.

And now he’s demoralized. His last three days on earth, he wanted to help his team fulfill their dying wishes and die with some peace. But they didn’t reciprocate. And what’s worse, they didn’t just tell him no from the start; they gathered around and let him think they might care, then reacted with indifference. And approval of his son’s cruel prank.

Imagine being in the middle of nowhere with your coworkers, knowing you’re all going to die. So you try to do one last good deed for all of them, because you care for them even if you’re bad at showing it. But they don’t respond in kind, they respond with apathy. Now you know that when all the cards are down and you’re all running out of time, they don’t care for you like you thought.

And the people you trusted with a secret, that you have an estranged son? In hearty agreement with him mocking you, even though you have three days left to live.

“See you all in hell!”

He was left standing alone. No wonder he holed up in the smoking room denying visitors. They let him down.

#character analysis #tf2 #dadspy

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shadowandlightt · 3 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /five/ Azriel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

They came not an hour later. You hid in your rooms like the coward you accused Tamlin of being. They didn’t put up a fight as Amerantha’s men, Rhys included, hauled them off towards the mountain. It left you in a state of dismay. Because with Tamlin gone, and the Faebane slowly leaving your system, there was no reason for you to stay here in Spring. You could easily run back to the night court and hide in one of the cabins your family owned. You could easily hide in the mountains and pray that one day Amerantha would meet her match.

Only you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. One day you tried, only to turn and vomit in the rose bushes. You then turned around and went back to your rooms and crawled under your covers. You stayed there and didn’t move for the rest of the day.

On the third day, Feyre showed back up. Much to your surprise, claiming to love Tamlin and willing to go under the mountain to save him. You rolled your eyes, but knew that love well. Because you would have given your wings if it meant seeing Az again.

“She’ll kill you,” You say from your spot at the kitchen doors, “The second she realizes you’re there, she’ll kill you. But she’ll draw it out, make it slow and painful.”

“Not helping,” Alis hissed at you.

“Who are you?” Feyre whips to face you.

You only smirk, “A friend. That’s all you need to know. Rhys might be your only hope.”

“Rhysand is a brute.”

“Perhaps,” You shrug, “But he wants out from under Amerantha as much as the next, only he has the power to make it happen.”

“What are you saying?” She questions.

“If he comes to you with a bargain, take it,” You tell her, “It could just save your life. Play his games, it might just save you from hers.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Alis said, “Don’t make any bargains.”

“Fine then, die and damn us all.”

“Why are you trying to help me?” Feyre asks.

“Because, dear human, I want to go home,” you said almost wistfully, “And I can’t as long as that bitch is in power.”

“Where is home for you?”

“The Night Court. But I’ve been held here for hundreds of years.”

“How old are you?” Her voice shook as she asked.

You only laughed and shook your head, “My age is of no concern to you. I’m not even sure I know it anymore anyway.”

Alis sighs from behind Feyre and gathers some supplies. you watch her carefully, wondering if she’s eager to send the poor human to her death, or if she hates the idea as much as you do. But you can only hope that Rhys will help her in any way that he can. You can only hope that he wants out as much as you think he does.

“If you ever feel alone, look towards the shadows,” You explain, “I’m not promising I’ll be there. But if I feel I can risk it-”

“Now that would be foolish,” Alis adds.

“Thank you, Alis,” I hiss back, “You should go, now. Mother knows what that Bitch has done to your precious Tamlin.”

The idea of him getting his happy ending made you sick again. The idea of him being able to be happy when he’s caused so much suffering….you almost couldn’t handle it. But if this meant Rhys and the other members of the Night Court could be free then you had to allow it to happen. You had to try to aid the young girl in any way that you could.

“Stick to the shadows,” You tell her, “You won’t get far once you enter, but always listen. And keep your wits about you.”

“Thank you,” She said in earnest.

You watched from the broken front door as Alis led her away. You weren’t sure you’d ever see the human again, but you weren’t sad to see her go. It felt like leading a lamb to the slaughter, but it had to be done. There wasn’t another choice. Not if you wanted to survive, not if you wanted everyone to be free again.

Each day you flung your powers out further and further, urging your shadows just a little further. They whispered back to you, telling you of what was happening under the mountain. How Feyre was dying, sick with fever and how Rhys came forth with a bargain. She headed your advice and took the bargain, marking her with a tattoo and a bond with Rhys.

Each day you tried to find a way to contact your brother, but you knew you couldn’t risk it. There was no way you could reach his mind from so far away, not with the lingering effects of years of Faebane still in your system.

You prayed that maybe Feyre would tell him about you and he would figure it out for himself and come for you once all of this was over. You prayed and prayed. There was nothing but silence. No news came. Your shadows were skittish, growing restless waiting for Amerantha to do something.

You lost weight from not eating. The lack of food would kill you eventually, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. If Valaris parished and there was nothing left of the people you called family- no one left but Rhys who thought you were dead anyway…would death be so bad? It could all be over finally, and maybe the Mother would be so kind as to bring you back to Az in the next life.

Three months. A mere blip in your young life, but feeling like a lifetime nonetheless. It took three long months before you saw three figures coming up the road. They were moving fast, all three of them. Feyre, it seemed, was no longer human. Your shadows neglected to tell you that when they said she’d survived and Amerantha did not.

You made your way downstairs, towards the door which you’d managed to somewhat fix. None of them looked worse for wear, but you knew whatever Feyre had been through would stay with her for a long time. And Tamlin had the ornate ability to simply sweep things under the rug and forget about them. He would do the same with her.

She looked High Fae, smelled like it too. With traces of my brother. So small, almost undetectable, but there. Shimmering like the bond you knew they had. You wondered when he would call in his bargain, when he would take her away from this place and show her the splendor of the Night Court, the beauty of it.

“You’re still here,” Tamlin stopped, a scowl forming, “I set you free.”

“You set me free, perhaps, but I would have died before I made it back to my own Court. Safer to stay here until I could contact my brother.”

“That won’t be happening,” Tamlin said slyly, “Feyre, darling, why don’t you go inside with Lucien. I’ll be inside in a moment.”

Your eyes narrowed as she did as she was told. Lucien spared you a glance, pity swirling in his eye. It made a pit form in your stomach. You wouldn’t be leaving the Spring Court, you realized. You would be forced to stay here until the day you died, or until Tamlin finally decided to kill you.

Maybe you would make it your mission to push him as far as you could so he would kill you. Maybe then you could finally know peace, and not whatever it was that you knew now.

“I thought I was going to free you,” Tamlin took a step towards you, “But then your brother made that Bargain with Feyre, and made me look like a fool under the mountain.”

“So once again, I’m to become your bargaining chip?” I question, “What? Me for Feyre?”

“Perhaps.”

“I could mist you,” You hiss.

“Ah, but you can’t,” Tamlin laughs, “Because even after all this time, the Faebane is still in your system. You can’t even winnow, because if you could, you would’ve left by now.”

He surges forward and grips your cheeks in his hand. You yelp in pain before going completely still. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing you in pain, or anything. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of it.

“You, little one, are going to be here for a very long time,” He squeezed your face harder, “And I’m going to enjoy finally breaking you.”

Little did he know, you were already broken.

“Go to hell,” You spit out.

“I was already there,” He smirked, “It didn’t take.”

“He’ll kill you once he finds out,” You force out, “And I’ll watch and laugh.”

“I’m counting on him trying.”

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thatanimeramenchick · 1 month

Note

I just thought of somethin(I’m sorry if I’m spamming or anything. I’ve got ADHD so my brain is constantly making ideas that I have to share. I do not wish to overwhelm you)

What about a Yandere Lucifer(Hazbin) with a immortal human reader? They were cursed from a young age with immortality because of a mistake there mother made. They can die but don’t really stay dead. Every time they die they get a scar so there covered with them both large and small. They go to university but was supposed to be sacrificed by a cult to Lucifer but obviously survived but now there stuck with Lucifer always being around?

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 1

You’re fine! Definitely not spamming. I just might take some time before I get to writing it. Lucifer has me in a choke hold, but so does Vox. I also wanted to do this idea justice, as it actually has a lot of potential, so it took me a little while before I finally felt like it sounded kind of decent. Also it was getting long, so going to be a two parter.

Part Two

Trigger Warning: Graphic Violence

Word Count: 2,431

---

You first realized something was wrong when you were twelve.

It was a warm August afternoon, perfect for a day on the lake. Only a week left before school, your extended family was having a last little hurrah camping trip. Water brushed against your shoulders as you waded through the water, looking for small fish and crawdads. Your cousins were on the shore, half asleep as they rested from swimming.

“Kids! It’s time for lunch!” you heard your Aunt’s voice fill the air.

Eager for food, like any other over-exhausted child, you turn quickly on the slick rocks, ready to run inside.

“Wait for me!” you cry out, taking no care in how fast you were moving.

And down you went. Your slipped right out from under you and sent you crashing beneath the waves. A roar filled your ears as your body ripped through the water and sent your head against the stone ground. Along with the cold water, you felt a hot liquid bubbling from the crown of your head.

Whether from shock or pain, you were unable to swim. You thrashed and attempted to scream, only letting more water into your throat. Surely someone had heard you falling and would come to save you, right? There was no way they hadn’t heard you.

Yet as seconds passed, you started to think that maybe no one had heard you. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as you were unable to hold your breath and water choked down your throat.

You swore that you felt your lungs literally ripping apart, splitting at the seams in a pain that was so intense you felt like you would black out. You suddenly knew what it was like to be the balloons you and your cousins had blown up with a little too much air and watched pop into a million pieces.

The oxygen must finally have evaporated from the combination of fluid filling your lungs and blood leaving your body. This was it.

You were going into the arms of the angels.

---

To this day, beneath your hair, was the large scar from “the incident” as your family referred to it.

Well, when they referred to it at all, which was almost never.

All you had remember was awakening in the hospital, gasps, tears, and even a scream filling the air as you sat up.

“I-impossible!” your aunt had said, gazing in shock at you, “She was… She had to be….”

“I told you, the doctors had made a mistake,” your mother had said calmly. She had been sitting beside you, squeezing your hand. Though her words were soft and controlled, there were tears on the edges of her eyes.

Your cousins started crying as well, coming forward, looking just as stunned. The only one who had seemed unsurprised was your mother, who held your hand in a death grip.

That day lived in infamy in your mind. Though nothing had ever been explained, small snippets from conversations you hadn’t been meant to overhear had formed an image of what had happened.

Finally, it had been noticed that you were not there, and your eldest cousin had been the horrified witness to your body in the lake, water red from the massive loss of blood. Though they had called the ambulance, it was clear to everyone that you had died before they had even got there.

Or so they had thought.

You had been laid in the hospital, check on, with no pulse or breath in you. Your family had been in the room crowding around you, all saying final goodbyes. All except your mother, who had simply grabbed onto your hand and insisted that you weren’t dead. The doctor had made a mistake, you would be fine. Naturally, your Aunt and Uncle thought that your mother was simply confused after the traumatic experience.

But you had woken up. Suddenly, something had changed. The machines detected life, and you had taken a gasping breath before groggily opening your eyes.

The nurses and doctors had seem just as spooked as your extended family, but once it was determined that somehow you had survived and your lungs were intact, they let you go. Someone must have made some kind of mistake at some point.

There had been no explanation, logical or otherwise for your salvation. Your mother said that you must be under divine protection, and you had accepted the answer, as much as you weren’t really convinced of it. Convinced or not, you were alive, and you supposed that was what mattered.

That had been nine years ago. It was something you rarely thought about anymore, though recently, you had been wondering about it. The whole thing was weird, and your studies in medical school only made it weirder.

You didn’t have time to think about it these days though. You were short on two things, money and time. Which is why you were now looking at the posters hung in the cafeteria for an opportunity to make some quick cash.

You had some cash flow from your repeated donations of plasma and blood cells, as well as the occasional babysitting gig in between studies. You needed more though, and the flier you were looking at was promising a lot of pay if you went to this interview and were accepted as a participant for an experiment that some seniors were doing. So many of you had participated in a couple of experiments for professors and students to earn a buck here and there. You could do it again. You ignored the vague wording, thinking that it was probably some experimentation that involved the subjects being in the dark.

So now, you were sitting on a park bench with the interviewer for the program, being drilled harder than if you had stayed out all night as a teenager.

“Do drugs, smoke, alcohol?” the interviewer asked.

“No,” you said.

“All right,” she said, "And... we'll need to know you're relationship history as well. Any boyfriends, girlfriends?”

“I had one boyfriend in high school,” you said, "Been too busy last few years though.”

“Just one boyfriend... Ok, and any hookups?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Like, you know, bar or party hookups. Casual sex.”

“I-I- Uh... No,” you said.

“So you're a virgin?” she asked.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t see how this is relevant,” you said, feeling uncomfortable.

“It’s necessary information for dividing the groups in our experiment,” she said, “Your personal name isn’t going to be connected to any of this. But we need to know as much personal information as possible if you want us to consider you for this. We need to know our subjects on a deep level.”

You sigh in irritation, “Fine, whatever. Yes, I am.”

“Ok,” she said, scribbling something down.

After a few more minutes of interrogation, she stood up.

“All right then, I think I have everything I need to know. We will be in touch if you pass all right? If you do, you'll be contacted on the meeting place for the experimentation,” she said.

---

A week later, you had gotten a call back from the same interviewer, saying you had passed initial testing. They assigned a day for you to show up at the lab. After you had arrived on the appointed day and signed some wavers, they took you aside and gave you some medication, saying they were conducting a test on REM sleep in three sessions. The first two had gone typically, and you had awoken, mind numb and fuzzy after the sessions. But something was different when you woke up the third time. You weren't in the lab.

You awoke, foggy eyed, your mind still grainy. The room was freezing, even more so than the normally cool temperature it was kept at. In a few seconds, you realized you weren't in the lab at all or likely the university. Your surroundings were totally alien as you realized where you were and who you were with.

You were looking up at a circle of men and women in black and red cloaks. A sickening smell of incense fills the air, and you feel something right digging into your wrists and ankles. In moments, you realize you have been tied down to a stone altar, somewhere dark and damp, like a cave or temple. Directly over you stands a middle aged man, holding a knife.

“She’s perfect,” he said, “A beautiful young virgin. Not tainted in any way, in good health. The ideal sacrificial lamb.”

The day of the incident was swarming back into your mind as you now struggled against the rope tying you own, as futile as you had felt slapping against the water. You couldn’t even attempt to scream, a cloth was shoved so far down your throat, the scent of whatever chemical they had dipped in it making it burn. Part of you wondered if you would vomit and repeatedly suffocate before he could even stab you.

“Oh Lucifer, we call upon you to accept this sacrifice,” the man called out, raising the knife, “May you be pleased with this offering, and in exchange bless our work. May we be more prosperous and rich than any others! We bow down to you!”

With his final words, he sliced the knife into your chest, so fast and swift that you didn’t feel it at first. It was as subtle as a breeze rushing past your cheek or hearing a whisper in the hallway. Small as it was though, you couldn’t deny that it was there. Within a split second, as he ripped the knife out, you felt some of that pain materializing. A muffled scream is silenced, and you feel the cloth sink deeper into your throat, choking you. Even if your mouth can not let out a sound, the surrounding flesh is painful enough that it feels like it is screaming in silent agony.

He continues to stab at you. The pain worsens as he tries to push the knife deep into your heart, but manages to instead stab into your ribs multiple times. Each removal of the knife releases a fountain of blood. Warm, fast, sleek streams bathe your skin and clothes as he drives the knife through you over and over again, without mercy. Penetrating, forceful, as if you were being violated in the worst possible way. The physical pain of the experience is nothing compared to the mental anguish of helplessness and terror you feel.

Finally, mercifully a few cuts sink between you ribs and pierce your heart. Within minutes, your world begins fading to black.

This is it. Finally.

At least that was what you hoped. No more pain, only peace.

---

Hell was real.

You hadn’t died, but you didn’t need to for you to experience a pure torment worse than death. Some twisted miracle, curse, whatever the hell it was, had saved you. You awoke who knows how long after the attack, alone and still strapped to the stone altar. You couldn’t lift your head, it roared with pain. The pure torture of regenerating, something you hadn’t felt in years. Your body burned and itched as it restitched itself back together, slowly. The process of regeneration was in some ways more gruesome than the actual attack had been. Every inch of your chest felt like it was on fire.

The cloth was still stuck deep in your throat, making it impossible to call for help, but part of you knew that even if you could have it probably wouldn’t attract attention from anyone you would want. Your only fear was that it would remain stuck in your throat for ages. The image of it resting there until your spit somehow dissolved it and allowed for you to breathe normally haunted you, as well as the image that you might die from an infection or suffocation like this a couple of times before that happens.

Your mind was so focused on this that you didn’t notice the glowing light walking around you. Sight fuzzy, you winced as the light fully entered your focus and before you stood a man, radiating light from his crimson and white body. Wings on display, emanating from his back. No further details could be caught though, as you were in too much pain to really pay attention. Despite this though, you had no doubt who this was.

Lucifer.

You were surprised. Always, your imagination had painted the devil as a creature of darkness. Even if he wasn’t a red horned creature, you had expected a creature that radiated evil and smoke. Yet Lucifer stood before you with an almost ethereal glow about him. While there was a certain flame about him, it burned with a cool, almost glorious light.

Well, you had heard someone once say that the devil portrayed himself as a creature of light. Perhaps the brightness of his form should not surprise you. A mask of goodness over his true evil intent. He leans over you, gazing at your half-alive form.

Finally, the devil reaches over to your face, gazing at you with a look that you decide must be curiosity. There is no way that it contains the pity that your mind at first thinks it glimpses. If this is the devil that the group worshiped, then there was no way any sympathy could be found in his eyes. He lowered his hand to your face, causing you to flinch, the pain exploding at your brief movement. Instead of the expected violence though, he caresses your cheek with tenderness.

“Poor little thing. Humans are such fools,” he murmurs, “The way they treat their own is downright atrocious.”

While you would push his touch away if you could, you find it impossible. The pain is too great to bother defying him. It is nothing compared to the torture your body goes through though when he lifts you into his arms. Chipped bones feel as if they are shifting through your sliced muscle and ripped flesh. You feel more blood flowing out of your body, like the lake sand would flow between the cracks in your fingers as a child. Even though you are unable to scream, you must have at least attempted to make some kind of noise as the demon holding you makes an effort to soothe you.

“Sh… It’s all right now,” you heard, “You’re going to be just fine. There’s no need to be afraid.”

It was the last thing you heard before pain consumed your mind and took you from consciousness.

#hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #yandere lucifer morningstar #yandere lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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