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ha-e-l · 1 year

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Eclipse - Chapter 1 [Cod MW2 x OC]

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Here it goes! No idea when I’ll be posting more, but hopefully semi-regularly. Enjoy! CW: Cannon typical violence near the end

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To say that I was nervous about this team-up would be a severe under exaggeration. I am fucking terrified.

Joining teams like this could lead to so many different outcomes. Of course the hopeful one is that everyone gets along and works together to successfully complete the mission, but that isn’t a guarantee.

It is no secret that being in special forces you have to work to prove yourself, no matter which country you’re fighting for. So joining a brand new team, who had no idea what my skillset is, meant that I will have to start the process all over again. My only saving grace is that I have one ally coming with me.

König and I have been working together for about 5 years, and I can say, without a doubt that I trust him with my life. Standing at 6’10”, with broad shoulders to match, and the constant presence of his mask, people tend to find him intimidating. They avoid deeper connections with the man out of fear, and intimidation. But under that dark mask, he truly is just a big softy.

In the grips of battle, he is confident, and task-focused; willing to do whatever it takes to finish the mission and come home with his team. Out of the line of fire, however, that confidence bleeds away, revealing the anxious mess of a man below. And god could I relate to that.

It’s so easy to be brave when any minute could be your last, but in the quiet domestic moments, that bravery is nowhere to be found. Moments where ordering a drink in a busy café felt harder than being confronted with the barrel of your enemy’s gun.

And maybe that’s why we bonded so well, we could understand each other's mindset. Understand the hardships that we encountered without judging each other for it. And it does help to have someone there who understands what’s happening, it chips away at the fear until it’s no longer an all-consuming entity, and instead something small that can be tucked away for later.

But this was a rare occasion where that fear couldn’t be tucked away. I was facing it head-on, and at any minute it would reach its crescendo, and the new team would walk through the door in front of me.

König was joining us later, as he had a meeting with our director to inform him we had made it safely to the base. I, for whatever reason however, am on greeting duty, and König gets to push it back until later. I’m not sure which one I would hate more. At least this way the bandaid was being ripped off for me. König has to dwell over his late entrance.

“Sheiße.” (Shit) My leg won’t stop shaking, and I look to the ground, resting my arms across the top of my thighs as I fold my hands together, fighting the urge to fiddle with my knives. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest, shaking my entire being with it as I wait for my merry group of men that I will be teaming up with. I take deep breaths, attempting to calm myself, and when that dosen’t work, I curl even farther into myself and hold my breath.

I release my breath quickly when the door to the room I was in opens, and four men walk in. My reaction is slowed by the lack of usable oxygen flowing to my brain, but as all four men come to a stop next to the table, I rise from my seat, shaking my hands out as I make my way toward the group, scanning them over as I near.

I had memorized their information when we were assigned this team, and I am now putting information to faces. Or in the case of one man, information to mask. The white skull was glaring against the black balaclava that he wears, and there is no question in my mind that this is Ghost. The man who never had a photo taken of him. But who was I to judge? I had spent the last 5 years partnered with a man, and I had never once seen his face. Everyone had their reasons for their quirks, and I’m sure it’s no different with this man.

“Good to finally meet you, Sergeant. I hope you had a nice ride over?” Captain Price steps forward, extending his hand for me to shake, which I do.

“Good to meet you as well Captain, and yes, it was a good old military transport.” I smile slightly, trying to convey that I’m making fun of the transport that we were all used to, and I am relieved when the Captain gives a short laugh before turning to the others behind him.

“Sergeant, this is Gaz, Soap, and Lieutenant Ghost. Gentlemen, this is Sergeant Eclipse.” I give a nod to the men and receive two in response. It’s weird to hear my code name in English after so long, and I’m was hoping my discomfort is hidden well enough. “Our other new addition will be joining us shortly, but until then, I have new intel for you all to look over.” He produces five manila folders and sets them down on the table, taking a step back as the four of us move to pick one up and begin reading.

The silence that filled the space was neither awkward nor comfortable, just present, and it was beginning to make my shoulders pull tight. The manila folder is light in my hand as I look over the information. Mostly blueprints, some numbers for personnel, and any background we had on them. My hip is cocked to the side, my other leg pointed away from my body. My back is curved as my shoulders hunch in around myself, blocking my neck from sudden attack as I stand prone in the small room.

About 5 minutes later, there is a soft knock on the door that causes all of us to look up and spot the hulking frame of my partner as he ducks through the doorway. He shakes hands with Captain Price and is handed his folder before they turn to face the rest of us.

“Fellas, this here is König, our second transfer.” I cringe slightly at his pronunciation of König’s name and feel my eyebrows draw slightly together as I wonder why he translated my name and not his. With a pat to the back, König is stepping toward me, and comes to a stop at my side, looking down at me. It’s only when he stands this close that I realized he looks taller than usual, and I straighten my posture, standing to full height next to the man.

“So Klein.” (So small) He raises his hand, ruffling my hair. And while I may not be able to see his face, I know damn well that is a smile in his eyes. I push his hand away, glaring playfully at him as I give him a good punch to the side. His shoulders shake with a silent laugh as he turns to his folder, and I return to mine, re-reading the entire thing.

Five minutes later, everyone is done processing the new intel, and we all gather around the table again. My hands rest in the arm holes of my vest as I wait next to König to hear what we are to do next.

“We have roughly three days before we ship out, so use this time to get yourselves in order, whatever that means for you. But you better be ready when we leave.” We all nod, and Price leaves the room, Gaz following after him. Soap turns and makes his way toward König and I, stopping in front of us. He isn’t short by any means, but just about anyone looks short in comparison to my quiet friend.

“What’re they feedin’ you back t’ere” Soap’s accent was thick, but not to the point of misunderstanding. Ghost steps up behind the man, and I can see the wheels turning in his head as he sizes König up. I can also feel the brush of König’s arm as he tenses behind me.

“Potatoes mostly,” I say, letting my arms fall to my sides, looking between the two men.

“That so?” Soap asks, a small smile on his face. I let one claim my face as well, and nod. “We were about to head back to the barracks if you wanted to tag along?” He tilts his head to one side, and I am reminded of the dogs we had back on base.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” My accent is thick to my own ears, and I wonder if he is having the same thoughts about my accent as I am about his. He gives a nod, smile still on his face as he moves toward the door. I follow, König behind me, and Ghost behind him.

Once we are out in the open, we switch to walking side by side, creating a line as we walk toward what I could only assume is the barracks building. Soap chatters as we walk, explaining where the mess hall is, but that they have a small communal kitchen space where we were free to make food if we felt inclined. He also explained that there are communal showers, but that the showers in the gym were single stalls. I smile at that, glad to hear that I could have some privacy while on base.

The doors to the barrack building are heavy steel, guarded with a passcode lock, that Soap quickly tells us the code to.

Once we are in the main hallway, I see the small communal space that Soap had mentioned and spot Gaz leaning into the fridge there as we walk past. Soap points out the door to the gym as we pass it, then pushes the door to our barracks open. Inside there are six single cots, all with the same dull green blankets and white sheets. Next to each bed is a small nightstand with a lamp, and at the foot of each bed, there are metal boxes for storage. It’s simple, but it’s familiar.

With three beds on each side of the room, the space feels symmetrical, and it is a welcome view. The beds on the far end of the right-hand side of the room contain our bags, and I’m not sure how to feel about getting the bed closest to the corner, and farthest from the door. But, these are the cards I was dealt, and by god I’m going to play them.

“Thank you Soap, your tour has been very helpful.” I try to give a small smile, but Soap just looks confused.

“Are you bein’ serious? Or ‘re ya messin' with me?” He asks looking me over as König moves to his bed to dig through his belongings.

“I assure you, Finsternis(Eclipse) is being sincere,” König says, back turned toward the three of us that are in the room with him. I smile as he looks over his shoulder at us, eyes catching the light and shining through the slits in his mask. Soap smiles back at us, and makes his way toward his own bed, directly across from König.

The day proceeds smoothly, and soon I am wearing a white shirt and black shorts as I pull my blanket up to my chest and turn to face my partner in the bed next to me.

“Schlaf gut, mein Freund.” (Sleep well my friend) I say, smiling slightly at the large man attempting to fit into the bed.

“Schlaff gut.” (Sleep well) He responds, and we both click our lights off.

Soap and Gaz are already in their beds, and working on turning their lights off as well. Price is puttering around the foot of his bed, moving things around, but he is dressed in his night clothes, so I expected it won’t be long until he too is in his bed. Ghost, however, is nowhere to be seen. His bed is the one directly across from mine, so as I lay there, waiting for sleep to engulf me, I have nowhere to look but at that empty bed. He keeps his corner very tidy; so tidy that I wonder if he sleeps somewhere else, and avoids this space altogether.

Eventually, when my brain begins creating different scenarios of what he could be doing instead of sleeping, I decide to close my eyes, turning so my back is to the gap between the wall and my bed, and I can open my eyes and see over König and Gaz and watch the entrance to the room. With my eyes closed, sleep comes easier, and I fell deep into the darkness, the sounds of Price’s piddling fading away.

Pain. All I could feel was pain. Radiating from every point of contact with the men surrounding me. The knife sticking out of my thigh wobbled slightly as one man flicked its handle, and I groaned at the pain, biting my lip to try and cover it.

“Still nothing?” The man asked, leaning over me. I collected the spit in my mouth, tainted with blood, and spit it directly into the man’s face, watching as the pinkish liquid slid down his cheek.

“I’ll never tell you anything,” I said, staring up at him. But his smile curled on his face again as he waved another man over.

“We’ll see about that.” The man that came over held a car battery, and two jumper cables, and I could feel my skin prickle with the anticipation of the electrical current I knew was about to flow through me.

“You can stop this, just tell me what I want to know.” The man said, grabbing the cables and touching them together to create sparks. But I stayed silent, watching as the cables moved closer and closer to my chest, which was exposed except for the tank top I usually wore under my shirts. When the cables finally made contact, the pain was searing, and my silence broke as I screamed out in pain.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #cod mwii #141 #gender neutral mc #gender neutral oc #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #könig mw2 #könig #modern warefare ii #könig x oc #könig x reader #haeL

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dokidokitsuna · 1 year

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Hello I love your AU!

Could you please tell us more about Elfilis and Star Dream as well?

Well, for one thing, they're a lot harder to draw. ^^; So I will gladly accept this opportunity to talk about them now and finish my sketches later~

For another thing, I will admit that they were kind of afterthoughts for GONE (this image basically tells all the story I wanted to tell). It was hard for me to even imagine a space for them to be characters...until I tried thinking of the AU as a more casual slice-of-life thing, believe it or not. ^^;

It kinda makes sense though; for multiverse-scale rulers to take something like this in stride, to be totally comfortable taking breaks to chat and get to know each other in between murder attempts. ^^ To be honest, it's almost creepier this way...for someone to ask how you've been before ripping your head off your neck...really adds to the 'inhuman' vibe of this AU in particular.

Fecto Elfilis: Probably the most sympathetic of the three, despite also being the most brutal (in a way, I feel a capacity for kindness and a capacity for cruelty are two sides of the same coin). They kinda understand what the Master Crown is going through, since they also have a nagging 'weakness' living inside of them at all times, in the form of Elfilin. ^^ You'll see what that looks like later. ;)

Of course, they have the advantage of knowing with certainty that Elfilin is real, most likely permanent, and has feelings they can hurt (their basic dynamic is that Elfilin begs them not to do something bad, and F/E does something 10x worse just to spite him). Unfortunately, this comes with the disadvantage of having to fight with him all the time, and the constant stress and aggravation that results. ^^; Like, imagine you had a sort of sentient autoimmune disease that flared up AND psychically argued with you every time you wanted to do something fun...it's a special kind of hell, tbh, and I like to think that Elfilin knows that~.

Anyway, despite all of that, F/E is usually pretty cool and self-confident, personality-wise. They have zero respect for either of their opponents, and they get a cathartic kick out of watching the Crown have a mental breakdown and mocking it for it...even though they secretly feel the same way very often, and very deep down.

Star Dream: It thinks of itself as a benevolent god, the savior of the universe...and whether or not that idea is a half-truth or a complete delusion honestly depends on your perspective.

They ARE the only one of the three who's actually concerned with building civilizations instead of destroying them (F/E) or treating them like toys (MC). They also have the intrinsic ability to read people's dreams and grant their wishes, an ability they use to keep their colossal hivemind happy. But is this a 'real' happiness, or a sort of 'brainwashed' happiness? Does it really free people's souls from their imperfect flesh-prisons, or does it simply remake them into a sanitized ideal...?

I think it would be interesting if it offered to mechanize the Master Crown in order to relieve its suffering (which would totally count as proving dominance)...even though it's kind of its fault that MC started losing its mind in the first place. ^^;;; The 'itch' starts when it has a small but unexpected reaction to seeing Susie's face, and becomes exponentially worse when SD admits that the form it's in is something it saw in the MC's dreams. But y'know, what better way to convince MC to have its mind digitized and have the 'weaknesses' deleted than to show it exactly what it's afraid of? ^^

In case it's not obvious, Star Dream has a very 'pleasant' and calm personality-- by now, it's learned that it's faster and easier to convert people with """"kindness""" than threats of annihilation. Of course, it doesn't like being told 'no' (you could argue that it doesn't really see any viewpoint other than its own as valid) and really doesn't like entities that can challenge it, especially "repulsive" flesh-creatures like Fecto Elfilis. ^^ If there's any potential for dark comedy in this AU, it's in the dynamic between those two~

#kirby #gijinka #au #GONE.

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r0-boat · 2 years

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Scp Submas Au part 2-3??

No nsfw.

I dabble more into the SCP side

Dr. ___ = reader

It has been a couple of months since we lost Dr. ___'s team to the anomalous entities during their Excursion. Everyone at site 19 was considerably devastated losing someone as witty and Brilliant as them and who we all considered a good friend.

They were the positive force in these bleak white hallways. After they're disappearance the O5 Council shut down the whole project.

It wasn't until we were getting used to the quiet until something picked up on our radio system... the site director managed to hear a familiar voice coming from the their abandoned office.

It was Them! their alive! The distress call was hard to decipher but we managed to get some information.

The entities refuse to harm them.

They are alive, and somewhat well.

They are extremely hostile to anybody else.

Our site director who notably grew quite attached to them, did not hesitate to request two renew the project in hopes to try to recover Dr. ___ .

Given the nature of our foundation we half expected the council to just brush it off as just another sacrifice in the name of protecting the world .

It must have been Dr. ___ 's past achievements or perhaps the site director pulling some strings for the 05 Council too accepted this request.

The recovery Mission has begun

Date: [ data expunged]

Dr. ___ has successfully been recovered! It was horrible

As soon as we stepped on the first floor we know we were not welcome.

If it wasn't for the past footage and Dr. ___ leaving notes and tips on how to navigate through the twisting tunnels and escaping the puppet entities we wouldn't have done it.

We have met the two sentient entities controlling this place as if they knew who we were coming for they attacked us at full force. They looked humanoid their limbs of normal life than Miles and hinging to reveal needle like teeth. They stretched and moved making bone chilling growls and clicks it was only because of Dr. ___'s notes we only managed to drive them away.

The white coated entity seem to be attracted to electricity and electronics though having a fear of fire and Direct bright light.

The black coated entity did not care for fire or light however could not quite see well in the dark tunnels thus relying on its other senses most notably sound. If wearing all black and sending completely still The Entity will not detect you.

Just like in their notes they looked more and more human every encounter we had, appearing and sounding more human. As if they have shapeshifting abilities. We're trying not to encounter the sentient anomalies according to Dr. ___ 's notes they have an anomalous property making it harder and harder to think when they are near

Are team marched forward, until we reached the bottom floor [ data expunged]

It was... gruesome but nothing we haven't seen.

It was an empty room filled with abandoned train cars hallways and rooms with non-anomalous office equipment.

And in one room laid Dr. ___ on a mattress covered in an anomalous substance half nude they're closed torn and ripped we thought they were dead but they were still believing just... unresponsive, their eyes empty

The entities fought us tooth and nail, careful not to harm the doctor the puppets wandering the floor their lights bright searching.

Dr. ___ is currently in quarantine being evaluated by Dr. Glass.

Recently after fully coming conscious after extracting the anomalous liquid substance from them (which we took a sample of evaluation) Dr. ___ has been recorded to been having nightmares ever since the recovery mission

" I've been down there for so long I could hardly remember what is real and what was a dream, but now I-I don't know...Glass... I think they're still after me. There's something important I need to remember"

We assured them that that place was fully contained. Nothing was getting in or out.

However it did little to ease Dr. ___.

.....

It has been a month since their return and everybody has been feeling quite uneasy. I can't help but feel it too. I constantly feel an overwhelming presence. But we had no containment breaches a while. I can't help but think back on what Dr.___ said to Dr.Glass.

" there's something important I need to remember"

My train of thought was cut off by a shreek

Dr.___!!

It came from the quarantining room mtfs ad their arms around them pulling them out from a pull in the ground filled with a black tar similar to scp-106. Struggling against something holding their leg.

The red lights and siren blared signifying the containment breach of whatever it was grabbing on to the Doctor's leg.

The creature finally lets go of the doctor growling and yelling incoherent words before completely disappearing. Leaving behind nothing but a shallow puddle of the anomalous black liquid.

Poor Dr.___ was shaking.

Perhaps this is what they will try to remember.

Dr.___ will be moved to stricter containment for their safety. Sadly that's all we could do as much as the O5 council values Dr.___. If they knew how attached these entities are to them. They wouldn't let them Room free sincere of the public seeing the anomalous entities.

Currently, we are planning to use Dr.___ as bate to trap the anomalous entities and hopefully contain them so they won't worry about being attacked like this again.

#scp au #submas #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #yandere

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tu-sugar-mami · 2 years

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Tales of the side of the road #6: Nothing like a good coffee after a crisis.

(You can read part 5 here)

Sorry for long post, Tumblr mobile won't let me cut it.

@ara-a-bird

_______

“Who has wronged you, child?”

Eiddelte’s powerful voice seems to come from everywhere at once, but your body’s mouth isn’t moving. Her eyes are focused on Gary’s trembling figure, but her expression is unreadable. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out this entity who has taken possession of the barista’s body is a force to be reckoned with.

It’s unnerving, dangerous and unpredictable. Alcina has seen her fair share of extraordinary things, what with being a part of Mother Miranda’s family, but this is beyond her comprehension. The Dimitrescu matriarch believed there was nothing more powerful than the crow goddess, but after witnessing this occurrence she’s beginning to doubt. She doesn’t want to admit it even to herself, but the pressure she feels heavy over her as if the gravity suddenly raised in a second by being in this entity’s presence makes her... afraid.

Alcina is not the only one, though. Her daughters feel it too, and they’re certain they’ve never felt something like this before. It had all happened in a blur, one second they were about to rip the man-thing’s hand for disrespecting their aunt and the next they were struggling to stay on their feet, almost as if an invisible force was trying to make them kneel before something divine.

Daniela barely had time to lean onto her mother’s skirt for support, followed a second after by her two sisters. Bela isn’t fairing much better, though Alcina’s hand pulling her closer and supporting her weight does help. Cassandra is full on hugging her mother’s front, arms circling her waist as much as they can reach and holding for dear life. If their hearts were still beating, they’d be running a mile per second.

Donna is holding Angie close to her chest while she supports herself on the counter. She doesn’t know how long will she resist. Her knees are threatening to give under the crushing pressure. She manages a quick glance at her sister, whose confident demeanor and straight posture are all but gone. Her expression is one of worry and uncertainty. That’s when Donna knows Alcina is struggling too; her size might have given her an advantage but the extra weight of her daughters is taking a toll, even then she refuses to let go of them.

“My Goddess! It was her! Your vessel pushed me and made me fall. All of the witnesses in this room also dared to mistreat me. I beg of you to make justice for I am a loyal follower of your divinity-”

Everything stills in the room. Not a sound, not even from the outside, can be heard.

Was Eiddelte really going to abide this pathetic man’s wish?

“Really, Gary? That’s your excuse?”

You shift uncomfortably on the wet floor. Why did this mind prison have to be so humid?

“Hey Eiddy, Gary is a lil bitch, he tried to lift the lady’s veil forcibly.”

Eiddelte doesn’t move.

“Oh, and he gave the first punch by the way.”

“I swear, My Goddess, my shirt is proof of their actions.” Gary’s stained shirt is also torn in the places where he was grabbed by. Maybe the ladies had been clutching him harder than you thought.

Eiddelte’s gaze is fixed on the man. She notices his shirt and thinks for a second.

A second that makes everyone hold their breaths.

“Quiet.”

Her head slightly turns to her right, to Donna.

“Who has wronged you?” The Dark deity asks again and waits for an answer that doesn’t come.

Donna is too stunned to speak and the pressure is taking all of her energy.

Eiddelte doesn’t seem pleased, and turns completely, focusing all of her attention on the dark clothed figure struggling on the counter.

“Speak.”

All eyes (except for Gary, whose forehead is still kissing the floor) turn to Donna, her own eyes fixed on Angie.

Almost as if the time decided to slow down, you see Angie lifting her head to look at the Deity.

“No!” You scream, but it’s futile. You have to warn them, you can’t just stay here and watch the disgrace unfold in front of you. With all your strength you manage to pull one arm out of the chains. The material burns hell fire against your skin but you don’t care.

Eiddelte’s right arm cracks even more with a breaking sound, the black marks becoming more lengthy and prominent.

“Don’t you dare to return, little rascal!” Eiddelte’s voice booms in the room. Her cracked arm covers her eyes and her mouth finally moves again.

“Don’t look into her eyes! They will drive you mad!” A mix of two intertwined voices comes from your throat, strange but definitely familiar to those around you. They recognize you! Everyone hurries to look at everything but the one in front of them.

Another chain takes the place of the one you freed yourself from, and again you’re incapable of moving.

Eiddelte’s arm goes limp and falls beside her.

“Now, speak.”

Donna can only bring herself to say one word.

“Him…”

An otherworldly hand rises and in a moment the overwhelming pressure forcing Donna down is gone. She has been granted pardon.

As for Gary… in a second he’s being effortlessly lifted by his hair, hovering over the floor. He grunts, but his eyes are completely shut.

“You broke the accord. You will suffer the sixth one.”

Gary’s eyes open, full of sheer terror, and he pleads for his life like a crying child, but it doesn’t do anything for him as the deity’s other hand forcibly grab his chin and makes him look at those inclement eyes.

His irises turn black and they expand to the rest of his eyeballs while he screams in agony.

Everyone can’t help but to look at each other in search of comfort, or at least to make sure they’re all witnessing the same thing. That could have happened to them too? The implications hit them hard and they shudder. When the screams cease and their gazes turn back to the pair they meet with the surprise that Gary is already gone, not a single trace of him left behind, almost as if he was never there in the first place. Of course none of them are aware of the new white dot sparkling on one of Eiddelte’s eyes, another follower condemned to spend the eternity suffering trapped in those orbs.

“He broke the contract.” Eiddelte simply states as if that explains everything, before she gasps and realizes her hands are trembling. She sighs as the black marks recede and her skin slowly turns to the usual human color so different from her own. “Fine.”

The pressure dissipate as soon as your feet touch the floor with a heavy thud, followed by your knees when they give out and you land on the floor, panting.

“What- what happened?” Cassandra is the first to break the silence, her own hands trembling.

“She-” You take a moment to catch your breath before explaining. “She wouldn’t leave without a victim and my body couldn’t bear her for much longer…”

“That was the Eiddelte you were talking about?” Daniela says while burying her face on her mother’s body. You make a point of ignoring her tear stained cheeks.

“Yeah… She is a bit intense.” You stand and pat your trousers down, getting rid of the dust from the floor. “She was fairly calm today.” You try your best to hide the burn mark on your right arm, but it doesn't work that well and Cassandra gives you a questioning look. "It's from when i shielded Eiddelte's eyes, the chains burned me, nothing serious." You sigh. "Don't worry, it'll heal soon."

It takes you only a moment before you go back to behind the counter and fill a large cup with 9 shots of espresso and seven packets of sugar and down them like a soda. The burn in your throat doesn’t even bother you anymore.

You miss the eyes of the ladies bulging almost out of their skull at your bizarre action and that bit of information.

“That Eiddelte woman is calm? Are you serious?!” The lady in black, the one you least expected to raise her voice, whisper-yells at you.

“She could have killed us all in a blink!” Angie, who has been suspiciously quiet until now, yells. “Why didn’t you warn us?!”

“Wait, what do you mean bear her?” Bela asks before going around the counter and grabbing you by the collar. Looks like it’s becoming an habit… “Human, what do you mean by bear her?!” There’s urgency and desperation in her voice. Maybe a hint of fright too.

“The man said you were the vessel, is that correct?” Alcina steps forward, petting Daniela’s head in an attempt of comforting her. No matter how dangerous and inhuman they themselves are, what the just went through was a whole frightening experience. “How come?” She has her fair knowledge of the art of vessel-ing thanks to Miranda’s project, but she knew that her vessel was genetically perfected for that. How about you? How did you find yourself in such situation?

“Uh…” you lift a finger, a motion that you hope gives you a second to compose yourself. “Yeah well I--” Your eyes roll back mid-sentence and you fall to the floor unceremoniously, knocked out despite having almost a Liter of pure coffee in your system.

“Henlo girl! I’ve come to pick up my ord…” A while after, another man enters through the doors but freezes at the sight. A blonde woman is shaking your unconscious body on the floor demanding answers. A readhead gal is eating all of the cookies in the display, topping them with whipped cream while simultaneously crying her eyes out. A brunette girl, probably the same age as the other two, is staring at the floor with a concerned expression frozen on her face. A towering woman is seated on one of the many big chairs in storage, sipping on a drink while talking with another woman who is dressed in all black. Oh, and there’s a living doll running all over the place screeching. Mark lets out a laugh before sighing.

“I assume you pretty ladies met Eiddelte?”

#tales of the side of the road #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento #re8 #my fic

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heartstopperfics · 2 years

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Angst (1) Masterlist

bandaids don't fix bullet holes (Ao3) - elisabeth13

Summary: Charlie has to come to Nick's aid when he injures himself at a friendly rugby match.

Dimming the Light (why is he like this?) (Ao3) - 5wans_Kenobe

Summary: If Tao Xu was going to make a list of people he didn't want to spend a term sitting next to, Ben would be high on his list. Stuck together in a film studies course, Tao is torn between total irritation with Ben Hope and a curiosity with what makes him so strange.

Fade Into You (Ao3) - busa

Summary: Charlie wants to run away, and Nick takes him on a trip across Europe instead.

I'll be fine, I promise (Ao3) - sdarted

Summary: Nick promised Charlie he would be fine. He didn't know whether he could keep that promise.

Not one who has had to think about his mental health before, Nick finds a lot of new emotions that he has never had to deal with. Will he be able to overcome his mental health problems before he has to help Charlie overcome his?

lose my mind (Ao3) - atlas53

Summary: what if Charlie went through with breaking up with Nick?

Maybe I Should Try Harder (Ao3) - Whyxmilikethis

Summary (TW): In which the events of Charlie’s ED are instead triggered by Ben, and Nick has no idea.

Springcaster, Volume 1: Shadow's Reach (Ao3) - kitsaidoui

Summary: Things start happening at Truham Grammar School for Boys that can't easily be explained. Fights break out more frequently, the whole school develops an oppressive vibe to it, and a shadow entity lurks the halls. Charlie Spring had a hard enough time being one of the only gay kids at school, but when he returns from a trip to Spain, he will need to reckon with both his burgeoning feelings for the massively heterosexual Nick Nelson, his form tablemate, and his discovery that his family is from a long line of magic users called Casters. What secrets about his family will he uncover, and will his growing feelings for Nick help or hinder his journey against the growing Darkness at Truham?

'Tis the damn season (Ao3) - boogle1234

Summary: After one fateful argument, Nick and Charlie break up, leaving both of them desolate (basically, what if they really did break up in Nick and Charlie).

One year later, Nick returns home for Christmas, and old wounds start to re-open.

Trying To Lift Off the Ground on Those Old Two Wheels (Ao3) - yousopuglywrites

Summary: Set between the rugby match and Charlie inviting Nick to his birthday. Charlie thinks about Nick's reaction to being interrupted by Isaac and things spiral from there

Yours (I Want More) (Ao3) - lexywantssheep

Summary: Breaking up with Ben never felt like this. It didn’t leave him feeling cold, alone, and like the air had been stripped from his lungs. What did he do wrong? Why was his entire world being ripped away from him? Charlie loved Nick with every bone in his body, but clearly that wasn’t enough.

#heartstopper #heartstopper fics #heartstopper library #fanfiction #masterlists #angst tw #angst #angst materlist

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wcrpbubble · 7 months

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@nebulaties “ you’ve been so quiet. what’s on your mind? ” - Picard to bev

it'd be easier to say what's not on her mind, which is a rather short list. not that she has the energy to recite even that list, afraid it will only add to the throbbing headache at the back of her head that feels like it might turn into a migraine at any moment. another borg encounter (they're getting too frequent and too dangerous) had done significant damage to the ship while she and jean-luc had led the away team again, and as a result, she'd seen an endless parade of injured crewman once they'd returned to the enterprise. thankfully they hadn't lost anyone, but some of the away team had been touch and go after one of her neural dampeners had failed. a fact which also weighs heavily on her mind, that failure itself that her plan hadn't worked. it had for a while, but the borg are adapting faster now and beverly has yet to find a dampener that is permanent. each encounter only gives the machines more time to adapt and each time it gets harder and harder to shut them down.

it's only now she's finally sitting that she can feel the ache in her body as a whole, despite recent dermal regeneration to several serious cuts and bruises sustained during their away mission - not unlike the ones she'd healed on jean-luc as well. her skin still crawls however, as if she can feel nanites on her skin threatening to assimilate her at any moment. it'll be another long night of little sleep, she imagines. the nights after encountering the borg are always the roughest. usually for him.

she rubs a hand at her temple and laments not for the first time that she's drinking chamomile and ginger tea instead of wine. and realizes she still hasn't answered jean-luc. beverly shifts to pull her legs beneath her on the sofa of his quarters; she still needs to change out of her frankly ruined uniform, but she can't be bothered with the effort of changing into pajamas just yet. she needs the barrier the uniform affords.

"sorry." she apologizes, curling her fingers around her mug with some hope of letting the warmth imbibe her hands. "i hadn't realized - i just . . . letting the day settle, i suppose." she finally settles on as an answer, as vague and diplomatic as she can make it. still bothered by her own failings - they could have died and frankly that pill never gets any easier to swallow. she is so, so tired of the borg, but damn if she isn't ready to ensure their eradication once and for all for a whole myriad of reasons. namely one rather small reason that, frankly, beverly is still trying to process in her mind to some degree of understanding so she can decide how to proceed. if to proceed. she's been ruminating on it since she'd caught a glimmer of it on a tricorder reading while she'd been healing her own injuries from the mission and now is truly the first time she's been able to afford it room enough in her mind to consider rationally.

truth is, she hasn't felt well lately. with all the run-ins with the borg, the endless nights she's spent hunched over a lab desk or a bio bed in an attempt to find answers to removing or blocking borg dna - it'd been easy to blame her fatigue and headaches and lack of appetite. she hasn't exactly been treating herself to the best standards, too singularly focused on finding ways to get the borg out of the sol system before it turns into an all out war again - and it very well still might, if things don't change and soon. beverly doesn't put much faith in fate or destiny or anything of the sort, but it doesn't mean she doesn't absolutely loathe it when said fate tends to throw the biggest wrench imaginable into her plans. their plans. sometimes beverly forgets that these days she is not a singular entity, that her relationship with jean-luc ensures she doesn't make decisions quite on her own anymore in regards to many things.

which is why, perhaps, she decides to rip this band-aid off here and now before she loses courage or the borg drop out of trans warp and attack the enterprise out of sheer coincidence.

"---jean-luc, i'm pregnant."

#( muse && beverly crusher )#( nebulaties && jean luc picard )#nebulaties

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prince-honeypaw · 2 years

Note

Hi!! All your posts make me so happy! If it’s okay could I request some regressor Dabi headcanons? Absolutely anything is fine but if you want more specific maybe something to do with regressing for the first time and/or accepting that side of himself! Hope you’re having a good day/night!! 💕

♡ Thank you so much for the sweet message! I hope you don't mind the lateness of this post as I waffled around on it a lot before I got around to some ideas that I was happy with.

♡ WARNING: This starts off a little more angsty than I usually go. There will be mentions of sickness and injuries so please proceed with caution and care!

♡ Please enjoy!

♡ The earliest memory Dabi has of his regression was not long after the incident that left him riddled with third degree burns. He'd been patched up by a nameless and faceless entity then sent on his way where he met Giran. Dabi was a pretty sad sight, vomiting up bile in an alleyway after bumping one of his mended knees into a crate... and the guy couldn't leave him there to rot. He was just a kid. So, Dabi ended up crashing with the broker for a long while.

♡ His first few months were actually spent almost entirely in his headspace! Though, the harder parts of his headspace to be exact. The pain of his stitches and the lingering nausea that came with his painkillers left him a mess. He'd wake up shrieking and wailing at odd hours, phantom pains ricocheting through his nerves, digging his nails into his clothes until they ripped and let the cool air settle him back into reality. Then he'd hug his pillow as tight as possible and try to settle back to sleep.

♡ When everything settled into a new normal and Dabi could properly leave his headspace... He shoved it to the farthest corners of his mind, swearing to never- EVER- be seen in such a vulnerable state again. And he didn't.

♡ For awhile.

♡ After being in the league for awhile, Dabi thought that he could keep that promise to himself. He had a pretty good read on everyone; the only plausible threats to luring out The Beast had to be Kurogiri or Magne so far and that was fine, they were easy to avoid.

♡ He did not anticipate the sleeper hit that was Tomura Shigaraki being a regressor.

♡ It was a fleeting mention when Tomura seemed less coordinated, a conversation that lasted maybe less than a minute: "Is Shigaraki okay? He looks kinda lost," Spinner had asked. And Toga had responded in something of a chirp, "Didn't you know? Tomura regresses! Kurogiri said it happens sometimes and keeps him mellowed out, so don't be weird about it!" "Hey- Who said I would be weird about it?! I don't even-"

♡ Dabi had stopped listening after that and tried to forget he ever even heard it in the first place. (He couldn't forget.)

♡ The nail in the coffin came when a sudden drop left him... Desperate. He craved some sort of familiar company, no matter the cost. So he slinks out of the safety of his room, quiet as a mouse... And carefully tugs the fabric of Big Sis Mag's shirt, looking as pitiful as a kitten in the rain.

♡ Ken is no idiot. She picks up pretty quick that she's got a toddler on her hands and knows better than to make a big deal about it. He's just there to chill.

♡ Or. He was just there to chill until he watched Jin pick Himiko up to swat at Atsuhiro's top hat and decided that he would also like to go up, please.

♡ Looks up at Ken with the Biggest eyes and points, "Go up, sis?"

♡ And. Well... She isn't going to just say no like some kind of a jerk! So... She picks him up on her hip and accepts the grabby hands that eagerly examine the new surroundings.

♡ (Her glasses are inevitably taken and chewed on.)

♡ Dabi is rather fascinated, really. Despite his worries that he'd be seen as weak- a liability even, no one really cared that he was little. It was just something that happened, something that maybe he needed.

♡ Something that was apart of him.

♡ And that was okay to them.

♡ Maybe, just maybe, it also became okay to him too.

#tw: vomit #tw: injury #sfw agere #bnha agere #Agere Dabi #Honey HCs

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa

#my writing #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Hey~ been awhile but I jump back on every once in awhile to read up on your stuff ❤️ Was wondering if requests were open if I can have Daddyheroyandere!Deku scenario? His daughter and wife has finally managed to run away and is hiding out in alleys in the city but sadly gets caught by Husband and daddy lol I read the other one you had and LOVED it Scary smiles are my weakness

Hi! ♥ Hope you’ve been well, thanks for checking in on the blog :3 And thanks for requesting! Enjoy ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

There had been better times in the past.

The times where Midoriya had leaned onto his wife's legs, seated by her feet as she held their newborn baby, lulling it to sleep. The peaceful, serene times of family joy he went through with the two of them. He remembered every night he got up instead of his wife to calm their little daughter, the nights she crawled into their bed as a toddler because of a nightmare. The "Welcome back!" and "Bye Daddy!" when she started to speak, and the cuddles on the couch with his wife while they watched her unwrap presents on Christmas.

Midoriya had always kept those times in his mind as a reason to go on. As a reason to fight and protect what was his, and as a reason to act like he did, even if not everyone agreed it was the correct way. Sure, it had its ups and downs, but he prevailed through the difficult times and was rewarded with better ones. The world was bad, but he wasn't as bad as everything else was.

But even when all he ever did was give, give, give, the two most precious people in his world ended up corrupted after all. Midoriya blamed himself for not being more careful. It was his fault to a degree. He should have been more cautious and tried harder to save the two. His wife, his darling wife, always had trouble relying on him. She was a driving force in this matter, he was sure. But still! After years of being together, she should have known better than to run away, right? Especially taking their daughter with her down this grim path!

They were meant to be together! All of them were meant to be with each other! So why did they leave him behind? After everything he's done for them all their lives, why was it Midoriya they chose to abandon and suffer by himself? How was this fair?

There was noticeable panic in his voice as he called out their names times and times again. People rushed to his aid when they noticed a hero in trouble, but he waved them off with a fake smile, saying everything was under control, even though it clearly wasn't. At least, not his control.

Did the two even consider into what kind of light it would put him, a hero, that his wife and daughter ran away from him without any reason to? Did they stop even for a minute to think about what kind of impact they could have on his public image and their livelihood? It was also their mouths he was feeding, so why would they do something so rash?

The outside was cold, wet from the rain, and dark from the night falling over their heads. Midoriya searched the closest proximity of their home, but neither park nor neighbors could return to him what was his. Where could they have gone? he kept asking himself, body shaking with anxiety. What if they encountered a villain? An obstacle they couldn't handle themselves? What if they were crying and begging to be saved by their husband and father at that very moment? The thought alone made him want to rip out his throbbing heart, completely clouding his mind with worry.

Midoriya did the next best thing he could think of, approaching the still bustling city. If he couldn't find them here, he might have to call friends for help, unable to think of any other way. This ordeal began to drag out far too long, and with every second, he lost more and more of his sanity as he had to worry, fret, and despair about everything that went through his mind.

It was harder now to navigate, trying not to bump into someone on the pavement. He couldn't raise suspicion. No one could recognize him, so he pulled the hood of his jacket a bit deeper into his face. But no matter where he went, he kept losing focus, too desperate to find them. Here, in the middle of the city... it was loud, and yet, Midoriya couldn't hear anything. The noise formed into a mass and then faded out completely.

He came to a halt, feeling the heaviness of his legs, the worry slowing him down. Why did he deserve this? What did he ever do?

Slow, nagging thoughts reappeared in his mind. They teased him, harassed him even with their presence. Memories, long repressed and buried beneath the wonderful ones of his family, came back to him. Memories of violence and shouting, the constant fights with his wife, and the nights of terror they lived through. Chains, ropes, knives. Attacking, subduing, yelling. The constant fear lingering in their home before their daughter was born.

So maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe, this was his punishment now.

Midoriya looked up at the sky, wondering if some entity was punishing him. "What a joke," he chuckled. He was a hero. He fought all kinds of monsters on a daily. He was more of a god than anyone, and his purpose was to love and protect -especially his family - from evil. Getting blinded by the lights of the city, Midoriya closed his eyes, turning towards the alleyway to his right before he could open them again, the darkness there soothing to his nerves.

There, cowering, shivering, with their hands clasped over each other's mouth, they sat. His eyes widened, his pulse quickened, and his lips parted, but no word escaped him. He found them; he really found them!

"Got you," he hummed, a big smile forming on his lips, his grin wide enough to show teeth. "Let's go home, shall we?"

The forms of his partner and child began to shake more and more from fear as he approached, Midoriya kneeling down before them, his arms wide open to pull them into a hug. They were so cold, but they felt so good as they leaned in; no matter that, they couldn't stop flinching and shuddering as he hugged them tighter and tighter. They were so cold and afraid, and he was the only one to comfort them. "I know this was rough, but I am here now," he cooed to them as the first sobs broke from his wife's lips. "I will make everything right, so..."

Letting go of his wife, Midoriya pulled his daughter up into his arms, carrying her like she was only a toddler instead of a teenager. He held out one hand to his wife for her to hold on to, pulling her along after the two women shared a brief glance, and she hesitantly reached for the still merciful hand he offered. Just like a mother couldn't abandon her child, Midoriya couldn't abandon the both of them, even if now that he found them, he felt the seething rage burn on in his stomach. There was so much to shout at them for, to discipline and remind them.

But not tonight. Not when they needed Midoriya once more to bring them home and take care of them. "Let's go and make new memories to forget about this pitiful attempt, okay?"

It wasn't like he had broken a human before, one even enough to bear him a child.

He could do it again if he had to, just so he could keep this perfect little family of his.

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

Things You Said When it was Over

Somewhere else, anger, a truce, and fight, and a happy ending

cw Jon's typical level of wanting to die but not actually wanting to die, fighting, mentions of vomit but no vomit, mentions of stabbing, mentions of stitches, losing time

Spoilers for 200

Let me know if you enjoyed! Stop back in a week for another fic. I am accepting Things You Said prompt list prompts for Jon, Martin, and/or Tim! I have two prompts in my inbox and both have been back written, but if you are wondering if I have ignored your prompt, chances are I have not!

Being unwound hurts. Unwound. Rewritten. Removed. Pulled and crumpled and twisted and extracted. Spun in with a web of tapes.

Masses of crinkling magnetic strips. Unsure where voice, and web, and body, and blood intersect.

Woven and ripped through that careful crevasse.

And it hurts. Much more than being stabbed. With that awful scratch and skittering of strands being eaten by an eager, hungry machine.

As time and entities and two people are chewed through and eaten with all the care of a faulty cassette player.

It’s a shriek of static, the thrumming whine of machinery wound wrong. The deafening scrabble of unknowable and terrible things going Elsewhere. Loud enough that the explosion doesn’t even register. Just a background whine to the overpowering white noise of the end of the world moving.

And Jon wakes up.

With a gasp. Small. And so painfully normal. Like his POTS flaring up and waking up in the break room. Again.

That hasn’t happened since the world ended. Since things went wrong.

A strange thing to reminisce about. POTS isn’t something he thought he’d miss. And… well… he doesn’t? Didn’t? Doesn’t know the tense to use because there was that slim, slim chance that everything is actually okay. The smallest, most fragile idea that things are back to that idyllic normal of the safehouse.

He doesn't move for a while. Focusing on breathing. It's cold. He isn't sure if the air is cold or if he's experiencing cold himself, or if this is just a new way of feeling pain. He can't tell.

His chest hurts, but he can't make himself check for blood. Moving is still a little too beyond him.

He wants to open his eyes, and look for Martin, but he doesn't want this to go away. Because if he's alive, then Martin must be too, right? Martin was much more likely to survive this. Not being... you know, stabbed?

But what if only Jon is somewhere else? What if this is somewhere Martin couldn't follow?

In that case, Jon would rather not be alive at all. If he doomed all the other universes because he couldn't go through with it in the end... if he gave it all up for Martin... he can't live with that. He can't. More than not wanting to, he just... Can't.

Then again everything is... kind of numb so he can't actually be sure that Martin isn't there... but he is never that lucky. Jon never gets the privilege of the best case scenario.

Breathing still hurts. But he doesn’t think it hurts in the “breathing around a knife” sort of way. Then again, after bearing witness to the pain of Everyone on the planet, a single wound is hardly a drop in that ocean with all the other pain just Gone.

“Jon! Jon! Can you hear me?”

He cracks his eyes open, and is met with the safe house ceiling. Eyes struggling to focus, trying to find the source of the voice that certainly sounds like Martin, but Jon is too sore to move. The force of it hitting him out of nowhere, without him even trying to lift a finger. Senses filling the void of 7 billion people screaming with the voices of scars and joints and exhaustion and hunger.

The best response he can manage is a wheezy groan.

Wheezy?

Does he need his inhaler again? Did Martin pack that even? He hasn’t needed it… since… the world ended.

Everything’s blurry. Where did his glasses go?

“Oh thank Christ!”

Jon makes to sit up, but stars burst in his vision, and his arms give out.

Martin’s hands fluttering around him. Flying to his chest.

Jon carefully reaches for his chest also. There is a hole in his shirt. Well. A lot of holes, but he’s only looking for one.

He feels tacky blood on its way to drying. And as he carefully probes further, he finds a tidy line of stitches in slightly sticky thread, that he has a sinking suspicion is spider’s silk. A final gift. A thank you. He wants to vomit.

But Martin’s hand catches his, stopping him from potentially hurting himself. Jon stretches his free hand to cup Martin’s cheek. He finds it wet.

It occurs to him that Martin has been crying. Is crying? Jon can’t tell. His face is too far away to see more than the fuzzy outline. (Not that Martin’s face is actually far away, Jon just has shit vision).

Crying, present tense, Jon assesses, when Martin shakes with a suppressed, silenced sob. “How could you do that Jon? Fuck! I mean… I knew you would. But how could you do that? You Lied to me. You could have Died! And I know you didn’t. But Jon, I… I can’t. You Promised me! You Promised! I… How could you make me do that? To you? How could you? I… Jon, how could you?” Martin’s crying too hard to get anything else out, and Jon still hasn’t managed to find enough breath and energy to speak.

Jon whines. Too exhausted to even sign.

Martin’s hand on his chest. Still trying to keep the blood in, even when there is no blood trying to get out anymore. Martin’s usually warm hand icy (Jon hopes with fear, and not the Lonely, but he can’t know. Firstly because he can’t break another promise, Secondly because he doesn’t think he can Know anymore, and thinking about trying makes his stomach drop.)

And Jon just… can’t. He rolls on his side away from Martin. Curling up tightly. Against the angry words and the guilt, and the rest of the guilt, and the pain in his body. He’s doomed infinite worlds. He’s betrayed everyone who ever cared about him… who he ever cared about. He caused so much pain and he sat back and watched. It seared through him the entire time of unknown and uncountable quantity that made up the apocalypse.

All the words that he could never say, the guilt he could never express, all his own fear that had been just as much a meal for his god choking him.

And he braces for the hate and the rest of the yelling, and everything else he deserves. Everything he brought upon himself, one poor choice after another.

Squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself gone and wills that if he doesn’t just vanish out of everything that Martin will get done yelling quick so maybe Jon can grovel some comfort out of him, even if it isn’t forgiveness, it will be better than the aching nothing that has been threatening to overtake him since he tasted the bitter words of the false statement.

Martin more than deserves his anger, but Jon can’t take it. He’s literally held together by spider silk. He’s worn and tired and battered. Guilt plunging deeper than Martin’s knife ever could.

Not that he’s not grateful for this time with Martin. Not that he doesn’t deserve every centimeter of guilt piling up on him. He deserves all the hate. And all the anger.

He’s spineless, and he knows it. He Almost did the right thing, but he couldn’t. And he almost lost everything he cares about. And now he probably still has. And… and what? What now? Martin elected to stay with him despite it all, on one stupid, slim chance that things could be okay, but how can they be okay ever again, with this aching hole of fault and blame and regret and shame pulling at his core. And he wants to be pulled open and rip it out. He wants to enjoy what he has, but he can’t and Martin has every reason to hate him.

He’s lost time.

Martin’s calling his name, and his limbs are stiff and numb from bracing for an impact that never came.

“Jon. Christ. Jon! I’m… I… I didn’t mean to scare you. I… I don’t hate you. I love you, I promise. …I’m… angry. And we need to talk about this. But… but I think that should wait until you’re up for talking, and I’m up for not crying for ya know, more than five minutes at a time. ….And Fuck. I just… well. You owe me a good screaming at, too. And Goddamn it, you were just doing what you thought was right… and you tried to tell us… tell me. I’m not saying you were right, because you weren’t… but I’m not saying you were wrong. And. Well. We’re both here. Please. I’m sorry for yelling. Can I touch you?”

Jon nods jerkily. Because he can’t stand the distance between them. He doesn’t care if touch can get him hurt, he’d take hurt over the space between them.

Martin holds him like he’s precious and Jon cries.

Harder than he has in a very long time.

And when he’s done he’s empty and shaking and filthy.

They shower and sleep. In the morning they can shout at each other for broken promises and wandering off, and not communicating enough, and not listening when the other is trying to communicate. And one leaves in a huff, and one cries himself sick in the bathroom, and there is hugging and a trip to town for tea and figuring out if this is the universe they saved or one of the infinite they doomed. And there are years for the aftershocks of those arguments to bounce around, losing energy in the form of heat: tea, hugs, hot showers, overeager workouts, kisses a little too rough, hugs a little too tight, a strange combination between fierce affection, and things a little too much to make them feel like they are accomplishing something.

And they can grow whole once more.

And they can grow old.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #cw suicidal ideation #sort of #cw fighting

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foli-vora · 3 years

Text

worlds collide

A/N: Hi, I’m in my feels tonight so have some angst! (That gif is breaking my fucking heart.)

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, blood, death

+++

Din didn’t know how or when it happened. All he knew was that it did happen. He awoke, however long after the initial blast, in a startle, hand shooting to the beskar covering his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. People were screaming, running erratic paths through the fire and debris. Stomach lodged firmly in his throat, he looks to his side where he expects to find the Child, his child, tucked up safe in the sack he had fashioned from old pieces of scrap material he found on the Crest.

He whips around in alarm when he finds nothing but ruins. Where was the kid? Why wasn’t he here? Dust coats the gloves covering his hands as he pushes through the remnants of fallen buildings around him, showing away piece after piece of rubble, desperation clawing away at his insides as he continuously comes up empty.

Where was the kid? The kid. Where was the kid?

And then a memory hits him.

Your smile. Not the polite half smiles you would offer others, mere strangers passing by on the streets, no. This smile was all his. The smile that he swears brings the stars he travels through to your eyes. The smile that is seared into his mind, that’s painted across his eyelids every time he finds a small amount of time to rest.

You grin up at him and make a sly little comment about his stiff armour digging into the soft sack carrying the sleeping baby, gently lifting it from across his body and hanging it upon your own, hand automatically rubbing soothing circles over the little lump through the coarse material.

“I told you he wouldn’t wake,” you shoot him a smirk, walking further ahead to admire the various materials and trinkets laid across tables throughout the market.

He pauses, coming to a stop between the bustling patrons, taking a moment to watch you. Watch the way you tread between the buyers, the way your hand automatically cradles the sack protectively if someone pushes too close, the way your eyes soak up each new object and entity you encounter with eager, curious eyes.

You notice the absence of his intimidating presence only a few steps ahead and turn to him questioningly. Tilting your head, you smile inquisitively, taking a small moment of your own to admire him and the incredible gleam of his armour against the bright backdrop of colourful banners and busying shoppers.

Peace.

That’s what he had felt in that moment. And though you had never seen him without the heavy helmet covering his face, he knew you saw him. In more than the physical sense. But where did it go wrong? When did the peace meet its end? When did it melt into the overwhelming sense of loss he feels now?

Your eyes flicker to something over his shoulder, brows pinching together. The immediate sense of dread that crashes over him the second your eyes widen in fear has him moving instantly, not caring about what’s there, what you’re seeing – just filled with the drowning need to reach you, to reach the child, to protect.

Had you called for him? In his current state, he doesn’t recall. The explosion had been so loud. He knew he had called for you – your name ripping from his modulator with a blinding urgency that left his throat feeling raw and then… nothing.

Frantic, he continues to push his way around, ignoring the people that pull on his armour-clad arms and beg for his aid. He doesn’t have time. He refuses to help them while you and the Child are missing. He won’t help a soul until he knows where you are, knows that you’re both unharmed, that you’re both safe.

He’s not sure what sound falls from his lips when he catches sight of your boots sticking out from beneath a piece of fallen wall. The breath gets sucked from his lungs, bile rises in his throat, and then he’s running, not caring about who he shoves down along the way – he just needs to get to you.

The adrenaline pulsing through his system has him hefting the piece of rubble off of you and then he’s on his knees, gloved hands gently, urgently, pushing at your shoulder until you’re on your back. He can’t see you, not the real you. Dust and blood cake your face and no matter how hard he scrubs along your skin; he can’t find you.

His hands follow along your frame, feeling along the side of your body and then… there he is. The Child chirps sadly, blinking dust from his wide eyes, and wiggles from the soiled sack, stumbling onto unsteady legs. He turns to look at you, large ears dropping in sorrow at the sight of your battered body.

“I know, kid. They’re gonna be fine.”

You were going to be fine, because there was no other option. You’d have a bump on the head, complain about it for a few days, get on his nerves, and then be fine. Healed. Alive.

He swears his heart jumps a beat when your face pinches, features contorting in discomfort. He hates knowing you’re in pain, but he’d take it. Quite happily. At least that meant you were still here, still with him. He waits, but your eyes don’t open and he gets impatient. He taps your cheek once, twice, again just a little bit harder.

Why aren’t you waking up?

He shakes you; hand locked firmly onto your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. The desperation that’s leaking into his voice starts to intensify the longer your lashes stay against the skin of your cheeks. Come on. You’re alright. You’re alright. Wake up –

And then finally – Stars, finally – your eyes flutter. The two suns hovering in the sky blind you, and you lift a heavy hand with a groan to cover your face. Relief floods him in an overwhelming wave and he crumbles over your body like he’s just ran nonstop for miles. You’re okay. You’re fine, everything’s fine.

His hands are everywhere when you eventually sit up – cradling your ribs, supporting your shoulders, a gloved palm against your cheek as you blink blearily at the scene around you. What happened? You don’t have the strength to ask. His grip is tight as he holds your hands, gently pulling you to stand. He doesn’t move away once you’re on your feet and it’s a good thing, too – you tremble, head melting into a vicious spin, and your legs give out from under you.

He has you in his arms before you’re even halfway to the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Always.

He cradles you the entire hike back to the Crest, the Child cuddled up to your chest as he coos gently at you, keeping you awake and as alert as possible. Din doesn’t stop moving, powered purely by the desperation to get you back to the ship, back home, somewhere safe. He kicks blankets across the cold grated floor and delicately lies you down, careful not to jostle you too much.

Your face puckers in agony, but soon you relax with a soft exhale, watching him through tired eyes as he moves the kid to his hammock before rushing back to your side. The gloves come off in an urgent tug and soon you’re rewarded with the heat of his fingertips trailing across your skin. His touch disappears, and you wish you could voice your protest, wish you could beg him to put them back.

You watch as tanned hands reach and grasp at the helmet, pulling it up and off and then – oh. Din blinks down at you with wide brown eyes, assessing every bit of damage he could see without his visor hindering his view. A scratch here, a scrape there – nothing bacta won’t fix. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. His eyes fall back to yours, and he half smiles, somewhat shyly, as you study his previously secret features.

Beautiful.

Your hand moves, fingers desperate to feel the scruff covering his jawline, but it falls short and you try to frown in frustration but lack the strength to contort your features. His own hand shoots up and helps yours on its journey, and soon you can feel it – scratchy against the skin of your palm.

His other hand is warm across your forehead and you smile weakly at the look of pure adoration on his face, his dark eyes flicking over your features. He had no regrets removing his helmet. He would have removed it in front of you one day, anyway.

“I’ll get you some water, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, bending to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You weakly move your head ever so slightly, greedily chasing his lips with your own, desperate to feel them just once, and your heart bursts as he grins, eyes crinkling and dimple appearing. What a sight. He lets his nose trail softly against yours before moving to your lips. His kiss was everything you had dreamed – tender, loving… and it chased away the chill that seemed to have taken a hold of your body, even if just for a few seconds.

“D-Din –” Why is it so hard to speak? You feel so weak. You want to tell him so much. He needs to know what he means to you. You’ve never been able to say the words and now you’re filled with regret. But surely, he knows. He must. You need to thank him for… for everything. For showing you the stars, for making you believe in yourself, for showing you that it’s okay to stand your ground when someone tells you to move. Maker, you need to speak. He needs to know. “Din,”

He hushes you lightly, dancing his warm fingers across your jaw affectionately. “Save your strength, cyare.”

Your eyes well as you watch him stand and leave. No, stay. Stay, please. He tries to be quick as he retrieves you a drink, but the water pressure on the Crest is questionable to say the least. He also fills a small bowl to start cleaning your skin of the filth that cakes it, desperate to see the horror of the day washed free from your skin. He returns after a short while, expertly juggling the many bits and pieces in his arms, and stops short of the makeshift bed.

You’re still. Completely unmoving. Your chest no longer moves, fighting for gasps of air. Your eyes were open, pointed to where he had disappeared into the fresher, but they lacked life. They’re vacant, hollow. They stare right through him. He all but drops everything in his arms, falling right beside you.

Swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth, he tries to speak. “C-Cyare?”

His hands move to your face, and he recoils at the chill of your skin. Heat, you need heat. His thumbs rub across your cheeks, desperate to work some sort of friction against your skin. He wills your eyes to focus, to gaze back into his. Breathe. Maker, please, breathe.

“Cyar’ika, I’m here.” He moves closer, hands darting over your body, indecisive of where to touch, where to hold you. No. You’re fine. You’re fine. He feels the cracks start to form, his world quickly falling apart in his hands. “I’m here. Please, cyare – I’m here.”

Yes, he is… but you’re not.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fic #mando #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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obscureamor · 3 years

Text

— angel baby

⋯ demon! tendou satori x fem! reader

⋯ t/w | nsfw, noncon, blood, choking, corruption, mentions of murder, tendou’s cum is black

» tendou satori was just a myth, but who knew you’d catch his eye.

✧ a/n | this was another... character... originally so if it doesn’t, i don’t know, fit the ‘criteria’ of the regular demons you read about that’s why, but i do hope you enjoy. ¡happy halloween everyone! stay safe and have fun! ♡

Halloween is the most awaited holiday of the year. It’s cherished in many hearts. It’s cherished in your heart. The night is filled with pumpkins, candy, and delight. The air cold, leaves falling, and costumes that cause fright.

Maybe you should’ve stayed in tonight.

You had it all planned out. Your friend said the party would be small, just a little get together. She’d go as the devil and you’d be the pure little angel... but you didn’t think it’d end up like this. You didn’t think your curiosity would result in you coming back out to see this. He had time. The house was large, easy to get lost in and so while you were looking around, everyone else was paying the price of being so close to you.

You didn’t scream when you saw the sight, hoping, just hoping it was some sort of prank, but the tall man standing in the middle of it all said otherwise. His clown costume reminded you of a B horror movie. You should’ve had better instincts, better intuition, the clown that’s been following you all night oblivious to your precious little mind. It’s easy to back you into a corner, easy to dart towards you, but you’re just so full of surprises.

The beer bottle that you hit him over the head with did nothing. It only succeeded in making you fall on your ass, the hope that it’d knock him out making your movements messy. It only succeeded in ruining his face paint, showing how he looks under the black and white makeup. The man is still standing, still staring at you with his knife in hand. Familiarity isn’t present in your panicked state. You don’t think you recognize him. His stature and build don’t ring any bells until you notice his red hair. The face paint that smeared off gives you a better look.

Nobody knew his actual name. The police didn’t. The news didn’t. Tendou Satori was a name born online through scary stories and people who had nothing better to do with their time.

Tendou Satori.

He doesn’t speak. Just jokes. Everything’s a joke.

“Please, please, I-I don’t...” you whimper out from your place on the floor.

Your white slip is stained with red, the feathers on your wings are dripping with blood. He doesn’t like the way it looks... you’re supposed to be clean. It’s ironic really and you can’t help but be confused when his shoulders start to shake up and down. There’s no sound coming out from him as he mimics the motions of laughter. He’s acting like he didn’t just slaughter all your friends, like he didn’t just seek out this party because you caught his eye.

‘An angel drenched in red,’ the thought is too funny.

You start to sit up because maybe while he’s distracted you can leave. You can run out of here, but placing your hand firmly on the ground— blindly on the ground isn’t a good idea. In your extreme focus on him, you don’t watch where you’re placing your hand. You don’t see the stray piece of glass closest to you. The pain doesn’t register until you stare down at your bloodied palm. The cut is large, blood dripping down, down your forearm and the gasp you let out has his head snapping towards you.

All movement and faux happiness ceased.

Your doe eyes are clouded with tears, lips wobbly as he stares at you and you stare back. ‘You’d be fun to break,’ he thinks. The smile on his face is big, too big to hold anything but malicious intent. Tendou’s hand clenches around the knife. It seems bigger as the orange and purple lights reflect off the metal. You scoot back, injured hand cradled to your chest. God, you don’t want to die... not by this sadistic clown and at the sight of him bringing the knife up, you stop all movements.

“Please...” It’s the only thing you can think of to say. ‘Please don’t kill me. Please don’t hurt me.’ But you don’t expect him to bring the knife to his own palm cutting a large slit across it. Your mouth is agape. The sight you’re seeing can’t be real— it’s not real. It’s black... his blood is black and it’s like you’re staring into the void as your wide eyes lock onto his hand. You don’t know why this makes the tears fall harder. Maybe it's the fear of the unknown. Maybe it’s the regret that you didn’t read all those articles your friends sent you on him. Maybe it's because this means he's not human.

Tendou Satori isn’t just a scary story.

You whimper, sniffling and attempting to scoot back more, but it’s thwarted when he lunges at you. The scream you let out could shatter windows as his body pins yours down.

Although he may look lanky, his strength is unmatched.

“Get off of me!” you scream, hands shoving blindly and feet kicking.

He doesn’t look as sporadic as he did before. He’s focused, movements precise as he tries to get you to stop struggling. You only come to a stop once the knife's tip comes to contact with your throat. Tendou could easily kill you— right here, right now —but instead, he uses it to cut down your dress, making you sob. The cool air of the house makes you shiver and goosebumps raise on your flesh.

He’s curious. He wants to cut them off. Why is your skin doing that?

And so in his curious state, his grimy hands come into contact with your tits, black blood staining the skin. You cry out as he pinches hard at your nipples.

“Please, stop!” you wail, “Ple—!”

He shoves his fingers into your mouth, drawing a horrific gag out of you. The taste makes you heave as he pushes in deeper, relishing in the way your little throat convulses around his digits. Your eyes are wide as your good hand wraps around his wrist. His bloodied hand makes its way down to your panties, ripping them off of your body.

‘Are you as pure as an angel? You’re really going to let some entity ruin you?’ He supposes you have no choice and the thought makes him mimic a snicker.

You watch as Tendou pulls down his bottoms, dick coming into full view. The feeling of passing out haunts you. You’re sputtering around his fingers, nails digging into his wrist in panic. It’s almost like he can sense it when his fingers leave your mouth and his hand wraps around your throat as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“I-I... please...” you gasp. “P-Please don’t do this to me!” You hope this will work. “Please, Tendou!”

He stares at you, unblinking and you think maybe... just maybe— a splitting grin breaks out onto his face. It’s quick as he shoves his fat cock into you, but the burning sensation lingers and it feels as if you’re being torn apart. Your back arches and your hands scramble to grab onto something, anything. They settle on the front of his costume, hands gripping tight at the satin material and blood staining the white. It’s a nice contrast to the monotone colors of his costume. It adds a pop of color almost like the red slowly seeping into your wings, white almost nowhere to be seen.

It’s still. Everything is still. The wind blows outside. The daunting laughter of those in ignorance of what’s happening to you rings in your ears. He’s letting you adjust and you can feel your body reacting.

His cut hand grabs at your injured one. You don’t know what he’s going to do as he’s still within you. This is something he’s never felt before. Your warm gummy walls flutter around his cock. The feeling of tight pussy wrapped around him. Tendou laces his fingers with yours as he leans over you, black blood mingling with the ruby red. It makes your nose scrunch up, lips trembling and another sob leaves you.

‘This is perfect. You’re perfect,’ he thinks as he studies your disgusted face... but your pure blood is mixing with his tainted black. ‘You’re already tainted.’ There’s a beat of silence as he comprehends the thought.... then he starts to ram into you.

‘You’re tainted.’

It’s the only thing that makes sense and since you’re so tainted that means it’s okay to ruin you. There are sobs mixed with moans coming out of your mouth as he thrusts into you with no clear rhythm. It’s sloppy and messy, pussy now slicked up just enough for him to move in and out of you smoothly. The squelching sounds that are now loud in your ears make you sob into your hand. You watch as he stares down at where you connect, watch as he pants out, and squeezes your hand as if you’ll disappear. He squeezes your throat as if he’s just itching to kill you, but in all honesty, he thinks you’ll be fun to keep around.

The tears that leave your eyes and trail down your face is such a sight when his eyes flit up to your features. They gleam under the LEDs and give him a full-body shiver. And when he leans forward, you turn your head to the side, eyes clenched shut and cheek now smooshed into the blood you didn’t know was trailing towards you. Your costume’s wings dig into your back and you can feel the blood that’s not yours seep into your skin. It’s warm and wet, warm and wet like the blood beneath you. His tongue laps at your cheek, lap, lapping at the tears that fall and— Why is this happening to you?

Tendou’s hand keeps giving yours small squeezes and you can feel his cock twitch within you. He’s cumming... oh god he’s going to cum inside you. It’s sporadic, thrusts now for his own pleasure and you hate your body for being so compliant. He takes note of how your wings are completely red now. They’re stained just like he’s staining you and Tendou can’t help but let his mind drift… thinking red looks good on you and now he wants to see you covered in it.

You don’t even know if he can understand you, but you still try. You bargain. You plead. But nothing will stop a Hallows Eve demon from getting what he wants. He cums inside of you with no warning. The sight of your wings and skin all bloodied enough to push him over the edge. You can feel his chest move as if he’s panting but still, no sounds come out from him. When Tendou pulls out of you, your eyes open. He watches intensely as your pussy just clenches, pushing out his viscous demon seed and you can’t help yourself from letting your eyes fall too.

His cum is black. It’s black and it oozes out of you so strangely.

Black as his blood. Black as the void you feel as if you’re falling into. Your head falls back onto the floor with a thud, staring straight at the ceiling as the orange and purple lights dance around. Tendou comes into your field of vision and smiles. It has a child-like innocence to it and yet you can’t feel anything. His lips move, words not quite comprehending yet... until they do.

“You’re mine.”

It’s raspy, paired with a smile. The only words he’s uttered all night. The only words he needs to say that make you pass out.

Maybe you should’ve stayed in tonight.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere tendou satori #yandere x reader #yandere tendou x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #THIS WAS ART THE CLOWN THIS WAS ABOUT ART THE CLOWN BUT I KNOW NO BODY WANTS TO FUCK HIM LIKE I DO SO I CHOSE TENDOU #nads writes haikyuu

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01

(Masterpost) (Next Episode)

Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it!

Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll!

Prologue: The Battle of Mordor

The Demise of our Protagonist

Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for.

This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day.

Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.

Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler

Anyway...cliff time

Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.

To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides.

This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.

In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.

This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

(Much, much more after the cut!)

The Amulet Situation

This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.

Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt.

Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.

This is thousands of cultivators having a battle. What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?

Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.

Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:

*viewership nods indulgently*

This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.

He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.

The Present Day

Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea

Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu.

How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”

Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.

...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*

Gank Your Soul

Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment.

The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai)

The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

The Demise of our Trill Host

Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in.

Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.

He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.

Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People

Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this

to this.

He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.

And he is ALL in on being crazy.

OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has.

Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:

This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.

My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.

Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life

Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams.

Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).

Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit

Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan

Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”

Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting

Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse.

Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure. Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!

This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them!

This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners.

Narrator: Her son is dead.

Meanwhile,

Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.

Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time

Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.

All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.

Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.

Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.

Servant: it’s a ghost!

WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit

Babies: It’s a spirit

LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost

Our Protagonist gets the FOH

Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around.

Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning.

Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses.

On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up.

Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!

Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed spoilers #the untamed gifs #the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #tw: blood #tw: suicide #chen qing ling #cql #c-drama #bl drama #canary3d-original #the untamed memes #my gifs

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