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al-astakbar · 7 months

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☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 5/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [1.9k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

>posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

You are awoken in the dark by a shrill, persistent whistle. Disoriented, you twist in the sheets and fumble for your data pad to check the time— before it registers in your brain where you are. The Chimaera. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s personal quarters. Your data pad isn’t here but where you left it on your night table back on Coruscant. Or, more likely, your room has been cleared out for the next trainee. Your personal effects will have been collected and reissued.

The whistle plays again over the loudspeaker— which you know must not be the correct term for it in the Imperial Navy. You’ll have to refer to it as such in front of Thrawn and see if he gets annoyed enough to correct you. Then, an announcement.

“Now reveille, reveille. All hands heave out and trice up. Reveille.”

Just as you are about to flop back down, the door zips open. Thrawn is there, in silhouette.

You groan in annoyance.

“Good morning.”

“Is that loud speaker gonna be an every morning type of thing?”

You are slightly disappointed by his lack of reaction. “The time now is—“ he checks his chrono “— one minute past zero six. In twenty minutes, you will accompany me to the bridge. You’ll find your additional daily wear robes in the wall locker, and personal hygiene items in the fresher.”

You just sit there, and contemplate flopping back down and pulling the covers over to block out the light.

“I recommend you make a start now,” he says. “Whatever state of dress you are in at 06:21 will be what you wear for the rest of the day. Including on the bridge.” He turns and goes back down the short corridor to his office, leaving the hatch open.

Surely he’s bluffing, you reason. Bringing his pleasure companion to such a place would likely embarrass the crew, and damage his reputation. As much as you’ve heard of Grand Admirals and other Imperial elites flaunting their hedonism, few would take such a risk.

On the other hand, testing him seems foolish.

Mustering great willpower, you swing out of bed, wash and dress, and go to his office. The lights are dim again, and he makes no move to turn them up when he sees you enter.

“Why do I have to come to the bridge?”

“I believe you will find it interesting. Alternatively, you may stay here in my quarters, under guard.”

“Would they also watch me pee?”

His eyes narrow. He very deliberately sets down his datapad and walks over to you. Measured, stalking steps, hands behind his back. He does not look to be in a permissive mood. He comes to stand in front of you, close so that you have to look up to his face, and when he speaks, his voice again has that soft, dangerous quality that had made you want to get on your knees for him.

“I was remiss, last night, in not laying out my expectations for you.”

Last night… you shift on your feet, trying to press your thighs together in a way he won’t notice. There is a dull, sweet ache between your legs, from his size, and the way he had fucked you, hard and thorough. And the low, breathy moan he had given just before he came a second time…

He is much too perceptive, however, and asks if you are sore, or in discomfort.

You scowl at him, not caring that you’re being a brat about everything. “Like you care.”

“But I do,” he says. “You are mine to use as I wish.”

You feel another swell of arousal, against everything you tell yourself, that it’s wrong and obscene and a betrayal. It’s not how you should feel about him, not when he speaks about you like you’re an object for his pleasure. You blush, looking out the viewport and refusing to meet his eyes.

He finally speaks out of the heavy silence.

“My expectations are simple. First, that you will be obedient and respectful. I will not tolerate disruptive behavior.”

You barely— just barely— restrain yourself from interrupting him to ask for a precise definition of disruptive.

“Second, when we are alone, you are not to cover your face.”

You realize the pause he leaves is a prompt for you to obey this rule. You sweep your veil back and pout at him, annoyed more so about being told what to do than the rule itself.

“Of course, you could also do away with it altogether, if you wish.”

“But I— I can’t!” The mere suggestion of it is scandalous, and coming from a Grand Admiral, no less.

He only gives you a dispassionate look, then directs your attention to the dining area where breakfast is laid out. The same two droids that had served dinner are standing by.

Thrawn pulls out your chair for you, and you accept his courtesy with ill grace.

“You could even wear different clothing,” he says, taking his own seat across from you. “The robes are beautiful, but impractical. Especially on a starship.”

You consider this for a moment, then tell him, “I’ve been wearing them for a year and I still trip on them pretty often.”

The droids move in, pouring drinks-- juice, water, caf-- though you wish you could ask for tea. When you reach for some jam, somehow your veil falls down over your shoulder, making you accidentally dip your sleeve in the caf creamer. You swear quietly, trying to sponge the light blue liquid out of the fabric.

“Why do you think I’ve set this rule?” He asks.

It takes you a moment— another one of his non- rhetorical questions, and a confusing non-sequitur until you recall the earlier thread of conversation. A quirk of his mind, perhaps, that you’ll have to get used to. “Assassins!” You blurt out, almost knocking your toast to the floor.

Looking pleased, or perhaps amused, he sits back in his chair with a nod and goes back to whatever he was doing on his datapad. One of the serving droids pours him a cup of caf without him gesturing for it, though he doesn’t touch it.

Between bites, and not caring that you’re interrupting his work, you ask why, if he’s so concerned about attempts on his life, he has you staying in his quarters, sleeping in his bed, taking meals with him.

“What if I’m the assassin?” You challenge.

“Are you?”

“No,” you say petulantly.

“I have explained and believe you understand the consequences of such an action. Have I overestimated your mental faculties?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to kill me?”

You frown at him. “I could be past reasoning.” Might try, you leave unsaid.

“And how would that benefit you, in the long run? What do you envision as the outcome?” He makes it sound more like an invitation for a thought exercise than a threat.

So you pause to consider. “Well, if I made it past intent, and actually tried, I’d probably have to surprise you. If I failed, and you could tie it to me, I’d probably get the rest of my life breaking scrap in the Aamiqh Deeps if I’m lucky. Or you’d just vent me out the closest airlock.”

“An efficient solution,” he says, and you look at him sharply, wondering if you mistook that dry tone for sarcasm. “How would you attempt it?”

“Attempt it after this conversation, or before?”

The corners of his mouth twitch, a small smile, and you feel absurdly pleased at that reaction. “Let us keep things simple for now. Before.”

You wrack your brain for what little you’ve been able to observe about him so far. It hasn’t even been a full day. Any habits that could be exploited, parts of his daily routine you could slip into unnoticed. You have yet to see him eat, drink, or sleep, and at this point, no matter how near-human he looks, have no reason to assume he actually needs rest or sustenance the way you do. Sex, then?

You begin speaking all this aloud, and he nods or comments at particular lines of reasoning. “It would be best if I could wait longer, make more observations.” Part of you can’t quite believe you’re saying all this to him-- and in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably foolish, and could be taken as evidence of intent to harm him, but he already holds all the power anyway. “But if I couldn’t, or found out that none of the obvious things would work--”

“Those being?”

“Poison in your food or drink. Or get you while you’re sleeping. I couldn’t even be sure that what works on humans would work on you. I guess maybe I could--” you stop yourself, feeling silly for playing along with all this, but he urges you to continue.

“Go on.” He sounds entertained and intrigued.

You take a bite of your food, which has gone cold. “Med bay. Could be a way to access your records. I don’t even know what species you are. And there would be medications in there, if I did figure out something that would work.”

“And if not?”

You tilt your head, gazing out at the serene, beautiful starscape. If you had thought there was even a chance that he would allow you to have embroidery supplies-- well, there would be no way he’d let you possess needles after this conversation. “There must be someone on the ship who doesn’t like you. Maybe even someone relatively high up?” You look back at him, taking in the striking sight of him: his gleaming red eyes, keen and alert and fixed on you, and his sharply handsome features and dark hair, his perfect uniform and heavy rank plaque that seem made to fit him and only him. You hesitate on your next thought. It would be hurtful. “Someone who doesn’t like that you’re…”

“Non-human,” Thrawn says.

You nod, not willing to cross the line and ask him why he serves an Empire that, by law and creed, considers him inferior. “I think it would be easy to take advantage of. People who think like that can be… single-minded. They wouldn’t like that you’re more successful than them.”

“Perhaps,” he allows.

“That could also solve the issue of getting off the ship, after I… you know.” You shift uncomfortably. It’s a strange thing. You had always thought, the whole year on Coruscant, that upon meeting whoever you ended up with, you’d want them dead.

Thrawn is not what you expected.

You squeeze your thighs together, trying very much not to think about how he had looked at you last night, how it had felt with his singular, searing focus on you, how he had sounded when he’d felt you almost lose control.

He regards you intently, letting you squirm, before he finally answers. “A clever thought. Yes, there are certainly those who resent being under my command.”

“Were you trying to get me to convince myself that trying anything is a bad idea?”

“No.” His expression softens just a little, so briefly you might have imagined it. “I simply wished to hear you reason through a problem.”

He lets you be, then, no further incisive, testing questions. He returns to his datapad, and you sip idly at your caf, watching distant ships and stars through the viewport.

Exactly at 06:21, he stands and indicates for you to come with him— finished with breakfast or not.

“Keep up,” he says mildly, when he sees you dawdling. “Or you will find yourself on a leash.”

☆ link to part 6 ☆

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added.

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#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn fic #thrawn x you #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn x y/n #star wars #thrawn fanfic

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apotatouwu · 2 years

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A Library Date?

Albedo x fem!reader

Fluff?

Royal au; both of you just chill in a library

a gift for a friend :>

Sitting in a large library with walls filled to the brim with shelves of books, was Prince Albedo of Kemia and Princess (Y/N) of Liyue. An awkward silence was upon them however, as the two royals sat— each with a book in their hands.

How did they get into this situation? Simply put, Queen Rhinedottir urged Albedo to find a spouse. Rhinedottir contacted the King of Liyue as she had heard of King Rex Lapis' quiet daughter, and pursued on her quest to find her son a significant other. It did not take long for the kingdom's crown prince to convince his younger sister to venture away from the nest.

What the young princess didn't expect as she entered the castle belonging to the Kingdom of Khemia, was the introverted prince she was told to meet.

And now, Princess (Y/N) is currenty sitting in a soft chair, reading a book from the library shelves; Albedo doing the same across from across the large room.

Flipping from page to page, with an abundance of words stitched on every page, the young lady propped an elbow on the armrest, hand providing support to her head. In her hands was a script of a play about a pair of star-crossed lovers separated by conflicting families, whose story ends in tragedy.

Smacking the finished script close, (y/n) sighs and relaxes into the chair once again, closing her eyes after the disaterous finish. (y/n) suddenly jolts up as soon as she hears a voice speaking to her.

"Finished reading, Princess (y/n)?" Prince Albedo asks, looking up from his own book.

(y/n) sits up to meet his gaze. "Yes I have. Though I was about to read another. Would you give me some recommendations?"

"I see you have just read 'Romeo and Juliet'. Might I introduce another play written by the same playwright?"

"..."

(y/n) looks around the multiple shelves placed on the walls. She has already read the plays written by the most wellknown dramatist in Mondstadt, so a new author to read is a must.

The Liyuean Princess stands up and walks to a shelf the her right. Out of the thousands of books displayed in front of her very eyes, none caught their attention. A hardcover did catch her attention, but its title displayed the name of a certain play, whos hero died after disrupting the society's social chain.

"Macbeth was an ambitous man who became prideful after his ascension to kingship."

"gaH-"

"...?"

"Please do not scare me like that, prince."

"You had been standing with your hand grasping the cover, so I stood to see if you were alright."

'He isn't wrong..' (y/n)'s brain thought.

(y/n) had read every single one of the books contained in her own library back in Liyue. And even if she had finished reading the entire catalogue, a new delivery of books would arrive. To find a book in a room similar to her second home that she hasn't seen yet is and will be a challenge.

"I have.. read a plethora of books in my time. It is increasingly difficult to read another that I do no have back in my father's palace."

Albedo giggled, "You speak with a similar vocabulary as your father, has anyone told you that?"

"And you seem very knowledgeable of many stories, Prince Albedo." (y/n rolled her eyes jokingly.

"I have read every book in the castle walls, but I would not call myself knowledgeable."

"So have I. Have you read the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?"

"I have. A tragic tale of a husband whose wife was bitten, and travelled to the underworld to revive her."

"The story of Oedipus?"

"A man who was destined to murder his own father and marry his mother? Unfortunately. If I may, why are you bringing up titles with tragic endings?"

"That, dear Prince Albedo, is for me to know, and for you to find out."

...

An hour had passed, filled with a conversation— or a challenge, depening on who you ask— of books and their plot. The book-lovers spoke of their love of stories, not noticing the blond woman standing by the door.

"Princess (y/n), your brother is here for you." Queen Rhinedottir exclaimed, suprizing the two royals in the room.

"Ah, please excuse me," (y/n) returns the books to their places, "It seems that I must go."

"Think nothing of it. I look forward to speaking with you again, princess."

(y/n) leaves as the queen looks at her son after bidding farewell.

"I expect a grandchild by next year, son~"

my bad for the rushed(?) ending skshsjdb writing block hit me hard :,)

this has been in my drafts for 3 weeks and i hate it skdbdbd

#potato-writes #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #albedo x reader #albedo fluff

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perpetual-stories · 3 years

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How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

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after-witch · 4 years

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(Horrorfest) Be Good to Him (The Boy Au!Shigaraki x Reader)

Title: Be Good to Him (The Boy AU!Shigaraki x Reader)

Synopsis: The Boy!AU. You’ve come to accept that the live-in ward you were hired to nanny is a doll--no, more than a doll: a ghost, the ghost of a poor boy who died in a tragic accident. But escalating possessive behavior from your spectral responsibility has you rethinking your plans to stay. And Tomura doesn’t seem to like that very much.

Inspired by a quote from The Boy (2016): “You wouldn't hurt me, would you Brahms?”

Word Count: 2796

notes: inherent yandere, creeper Shigaraki

The sound of slamming cupboards and pounding footsteps jerks you out of a grey, dim sleep. Your brain, still foggy and restless, takes a few moments to get adjusted to being thrust out of rest.

You've been losing so much sleep lately, trying to keep up the large house and take care of Tomura and follow the rules, all while dealing with a new, bizarre reality: ghosts are real, very real, and you've been assigned to care for one.

This sudden awakening is just one of many, lately. Tomura normally kept quiet at night, when you put him to bed just right, following the rules: pajamas, bedtime story, tuck-in, kiss goodnight.

If you missed a step, he got cranky, but could you blame him? The tormented ghost a little boy, forever doomed to wander the halls of his home, trapped in the body of a lifelike doll. It was your burden to bear, it seemed. But lately the burden has been taking a mental and physical toll, grinding you down, down, down to the bone.

It makes you think of your friend. The only one you have left, long-distance, since all your new local friends got tired of you refusing to go out with them months ago. You weren't supposed to leave, except for special errands, or else Tomura would feel neglected. You didn't want him to feel neglected. Texting, at least, didn't seem to bother him.

You reach for your phone, grasping blindly on the bedside table. It's not there. The table, where you always set it before you go to bed, is completely empty.

Fuck, you think. Was it Tomura? It wouldn't be the first of your things he's taken, sometimes as a game, sometimes to show you that he wasn't happy you were slacking off. Ghosts, you realize, can be very particular.

You toss your legs over the side of the bed, bringing you fully out of the hazy remnants of sleep and back to reality. You have to find your phone. The thought of being without it makes you feel helpless and even more alone. You grab your robe and pull it over your thin white night-gown, then slide your fuzzy slippers over your feet to keep them warm on the cold wood.

The house is dark, barely lit here and there by electric candles jutting out of the walls; they were probably replacements for real antique ones that were there when the house was first built, you once mused. They're fine enough to keep you from tripping in the hallway, but you'll never find your phone like this, in the near-dark. You decide to head to the kitchen and call your phone from the landline.

As you enter the kitchen, however, you spy something new sitting on the counter: a slip of paper. You approach the note with trepidation, a quiet anxiety which only increases when you see what's on the page. It's a printed list of the rules, the rules you were given when you first came here, the rules you now followed as closely as possible. On the bottom of the page, however, scrawled in ink: "No phone unless Tomura gives you permission."

The sight of the words, hastily written, makes your blood freeze. Tomura had never... that is, you had never seen him write anything. You had experienced unusual, then-unexplained occurrence. Your clothes went missing, only to reappear somewhere else. Gifts were sometimes left at your door. Tomura's clothes or shoes would appear on the end of his bed, as if he picked out his own outfit that day. And footsteps--you sometimes hear footsteps, unexplained until you'd realized the truth about Tomura and his spirit residing in the house, in the doll.

But this sudden development makes your stomach twist, and you feel the first prickings of tears in your eyes. It's getting to be... too much. Too much to handle. Taking away your phone? Wanting you to get permission? You sigh deeply, rubbing your eyes, and think on what to do. You can't call the police--they will think you're crazy. You don't know your friend's phone number without using your phone--a fact which inwardly makes you cringe as your mother's voice tut-tuts in your memory: "One day you'll lose your phone and you won't be able to call anyone!"

You don't know exactly what to do, but you do know one thing: you don't want to stay in this house without your phone all night. You feel more uneasy than you have in the months since you discovered the truth behind the doll. You weren't exactly scared of Tomura, most of the time. But the lack of sleep and the constant demands and eggshells you walk on to follow the rules--and now this, on top of it all--has you overwhelmed.

You'll go into town, you decide. Just for the night. You'll book a hotel, find somewhere with a computer in the morning, then message her on Facebook and... maybe. Maybe accept her offer. Or talk to her about it. Ask her advice.

For this, you'll need your purse. Your keys. Your regular shoes. You head back the way you came, ignoring the slight rattling of the photos hanging on the walls. Could be the wind--could be Tomura. Either way, you didn't want to deal with it tonight. You reach your room and flick on the light, squinting in slight pain as your eyes adjust. You grab your purse and stuff the keys on the desk inside them. You head to the dresser and start throwing out a few things, socks, underwear, that you'll need for a day (maybe two, you think, two nights sleep doesn't sound bad) away.

All the while, a nagging feeling of guilt begins to build up inside you. You were just going to leave Tomura, leave this poor ghost, all alone? Just because you're... what? Annoyed at not having your phone? No, you correct yourself. You're leaving because it's not acceptable for anyone--ghost or not--to deprive you of your phone, but you're too tired and stressed to have a serious conversation with Tomura right now. With a good night's sleep, you can come back (maybe) and deal with it then.

You're fishing around your closet when you hear it. Stomping feet. You glance up to see a framed photo of flowers on your wall rattling like crazy until it falls down, sharp glass crashing when it hits the floor. You jump and take a few steps back.

"T-Tomura! Stop it right now!" You say, clearing your throat to give it an inch of nanny-esqe authority.

But he doesn't stop. The noise doesn't stop. The rattling only gets worse, as anything pinned or hung on your walls begins to fall down, one after the other, as if Tomura is going around the room in a circle. There's a dreadful, loud, angry pounding on the walls that begins to mimic your growing heart-rate. He's never done anything like this before.

"Stop it!" you yell, practically shrieking. "I've followed the rules! I've followed all the rules! Just stop it!"

The sound of a voice cuts you to the core.

"I know. You've done so well. I like you more than the others."

It’s a childish voice, high-pitched and thin.

You drop the bag you're holding and feel your knees turn to jelly. You're not crazy. You're hearing a voice. This is not items missing or stolen phones or shadows out of the corner of your eye. This is a tangible voice, one you think you could record if your phone hadn't been taken.

You swallow, thick and bitter. "Who's there?"

The voice giggles. There's an unnatural raspiness to the sound that makes you shiver.

"Who do you think, silly (Y/N)?"

You know who it is. But you whisper, anyway: "Tomura?"

You hear footsteps. You hear footsteps coming from behind the walls. You follow the sound of them until they reach the large vent on the wall facing away from your bed. Your heart hammers in your chest as you hear rattling--hear the vent rattling--until the golden grate is suddenly pushed out of the space. The clattering sound as it hits the floor makes you want to jump, but instead you're frozen to the spot, unable to look away.

A hand reaches out from the darkness behind the vent, curling around the wall and giving leverage to the figure that emerges from the dark. You try to make a sound, try to scream, but only a faint breathy gasp escapes your lips.

You watch as the figure goes from crawling to standing. It's Tomura--but it's not Tomura. It's not the doll you've been carrying around, tucking in at night, a doll you've been kissing and reading stories to at bedtime. It's a fully grown man, who seems to tower above you even at a distance. There's a mask over his face, a simple doll's mask, which you think must have once been white but is now streaked with dirt. He simply stares at you through the mask, breathing heavily.

Your body moves backward involuntarily, wanting to get away from the icy terror in your skin, and you bump into the wall. You can feel the picture that fell down earlier at your ankles. A piece of glass from the shattered frame crunches under your slipper.

The movement catches his notice, and he stalks towards you until he's practically pressed up against you. You look up at him and try to think of something, anything to say, anything that might make sense of the bizarre, horrific situation you've found yourself in. You take in his face, or rather, the mask that fills most of it. Limp, dirty hair clings to the sides of his face, clings to the mask; there's a sheen of sweat and a stale smell that permeates the air. Old clothes, stale air, and a clear lack of proper bathing.

He leans in, and you can now make out his eyes, red and intense, behind the holes of the mask.

"You can't leave," he says. His voice is awkward and muffled by the mask. It lies somewhere in between the strange childish voice you'd heard earlier--you realize with a shudder that he'd been putting on the voice of the little boy you'd assumed him to be, sweet and cheeky--and the voice of the adult man standing before you. Raspy and clearly underused.

You realize he's waiting for an answer and take a few shuddering breaths, trying to ignore the stale air that you suck in with each breath. "I wasn't... I was just... I needed to go get--"

"Liar."

Your eyes are suddenly blinking away a bright light, and you see that he'd pulled a phone out--your phone. The screen is showing the last text message conversation with your friend, the offer you'd been mulling over since you received it the day before. They offered to pay for a plane ticket home, offered you a place to stay until you got back on your feet. "Maybe," you'd texted back. "Idk. This is all getting to be too much. I don't know if I can stay."

He tosses the phone on the floor. You consider reaching down to grab it, maybe you'll be fast enough--but his arm suddenly juts out, slamming against the wall next to you. You scream without thinking.

"Mine. You're mine," he rasps. "The letter says so."

You shake your head, aware that you're now crying. "I can’t--I can't stay here."

He presses a dirty finger to your lips, shushing you. You can taste grime and salt. You’re afraid to talk, lest he stick it inside.

"You don't get to leave. It's in the rules. It's in the rules." His voice has taken on a childish, whining tone again.

The situation leaves no room for argument as you realize, helplessly, how can you hope to argue with a man who’s currently got you trapped in a bedroom, in a big house, so far from town that you have to drive?

So you nod, slowly. If you can placate him long enough… you can grab your purse, or just the keys, even, and get the hell out of there.

He slowly removes his fingers, and your mind whirls as you think of a plan to distract him. “Tomura, it’s… it’s way too late, isn’t it?” You stare up at him, offering a shaky smile. “You need to get back to sleep, young man. It’s past your bedtime.”

He looks down at you. You can hear his breath hitch.

“Did you hear me?” you say, taking on a haughty tone you used to use playfully, back when you thought he was just a wayward, lost ghost--and not a fully grown man who clearly had been living in the walls. You push down the revulsion that comes with realizing that he’s been watching you all this time. “I’m in charge, and--”

His hand is on your cheek, suddenly, and you flinch before you can help yourself. He strokes your cheek, petting you like a precious thing.

“Can I tuck you into bed tonight, (Y/N?)” He’s back to using the childish tone, sweet and syrupy. You stare at him, stuttering out something before he continues. “Please? Then I’ll go back to bed. I promise.”

You swallow and take a deep, sighing breath. Then you nod, smiling and hoping it’s not too much like a grimace. “All--all right. Just this once, because it’s a special night, right? I got to see you for the first time.”

He nods quickly, an affected gesture of giddiness. He giggles.

You just have to get through this. Let him tuck you into bed. Then wait until he’s… retreated, grab your things, and tip-toe to the front door. It’s doable, you think. It has to be.

“Let me just put these on the desk,” you say, grabbing up your purse and clothes in a deliberately casual gesture, dumping them on the desk like you’re not giving them a second thought. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, which gives you some slight relief.

You keep your eyes on him and you sit back down on the bed and slowly pull your legs up, stretching them out and giving your best careless smile, considering the circumstances. “Well? Tuck me into bed, then it’s off to bed with you, okay?”

Tomura takes a few tentative steps forward. You almost jerk your legs away when he reaches for them, but the knowledge that you need to keep him placated until you can get out of here keeps your legs still. He gently lifts up one foot, almost studying it, before slowly pulling off the slipper.

“Mustn’t wear these to bed,” he says, trailing a dirty finger up your soft naked sole. You do flinch, then, letting out a shaky breath.

“Don’t,” you say, “I’m ticklish.”

He giggles. “I know.” But he takes off the other slipper without further fanfare, to your relief. Next, he lifts up the crumpled comforter, and you let your legs slide underneath as he pulls it up closer to your chest.

Your heart is hammering as he leans in close to you. The goodnight kiss. His closeness is unwelcome, not only for the fear but for the increased awareness of the stale, unpleasant smell; sweat and body and what is probably years of living in grime.

His fingers ghost against your thin satin nightgown, toying with the straps and gently tickling your shoulders.

His eyes are wide open as he leans closer. The mask presses against your lips and your fear reaches its peak in that moment. What if he doesn’t stop here?

But in the next moment, he’s back to standing. He softly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Good night. Sleep tight.”

You smile primly. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite?” He nods and you shoo him away--playfully, you hope. “Okay, okay! Now off to bed! A… a growing boy like you needs his sleep.”

You turn slightly over on your side, as if preparing to fall asleep yourself, and close your eyes. You listen as his steps walk away from your bed, thinking wildly: please-let-this-work, please-let-this-work, it’s-working-it’s-working-it’s--

Your stomach drops when you hear him jangling the keys--your keys--in his hands.

“Good night, (Y/N). I’ll see you in the morning.”

The locks to your bedroom are as loud as the hammering of your heart.

#the boy #tomura shigaraki #horror writing #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #afterwitch writes #horrofest

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hithelleth · 3 years

Text

First Lines Of Your Last 20 Fics!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I was tagged by @eveningspirit, thank you! I always like to walk down the memory lane of my writing exploits, they are a nice confidence boos. :)

The Ice King and the Star Boy (The 100 | Bellamy/Roan | E) (aka the monsterfic, as you know it ;))

Banishment.

Impasse (Revolution | CM2 | E)

Charlie finds Bass stretched all lion-like on the king-size bed, studying reports, when she enters the tent.

(Filling) Empty Spaces (Revolution | Jeremy/Charlie | NR)

Charlie was just going to drop off the files Miles had forgotten again, but Jeremy waves her inside as he opens the door.

Only Human (The 100 | various characters | G)

“You’re presenting a puzzle to Rani and Lana.”

Lost (Yellowstone | Jamie Dutton | G)

The plaque on the wall is like a signpost. So, of course he goes to Beth. Because he doesn’t know what to do, whether to accept Rainwater’s – a good man, Perry said, and Jamie might be naïve, but he is not that naïve to think that if everyone plays dirty Rainwater is an exception – patronage or not.

Homework (Station 19 | Vicley | G)

Homework: Write a 100 words about your family or about what you want to be when you grow up.

Now Is Not the End (Station 19 | Vicley | T)

Vic waits with baited breath for that moment she is not ready for. Waits. Waits…

Thoughts on the Future Pasts (Timeless | Nicholas Keynes/Emma Whitmore| T)

The future is... confusing.

Dominoes Falling (TVD/TO | Elena/Elijah/Klaus | NR)

It turns out sometimes late is worse than never.

Close Encounters (Revolution | Charlie/Bass | E)

Bass gets to work well after midnight when the hotel at last falls silent, the partying vacationers having tired themselves out and the early-rising business people not yet up. He is done cleaning the pools before dawn and he sits down in a shaded corner, enjoying the peace and quiet of those last dark cool minutes that offer reprieve from the summer heat.

Reasons to Fight (The 100 | Clarke/Roan | NR)

Roan comes round to something tugging at his hand, constricting his movement. Panic surges in his mind for a moment before he pushes it down and starts cataloguing his surroundings with the methodical precision he learnt as a boy.

Prompts Exist to Be Filled (Revolution, prompt collection, various)

She was a good woman – Jeremy sensed that, although he knew her life had been – perhaps still was – intertwined with Bass’ and Miles’, which also meant that it was fucked up, because those two managed to fuck up everything they touched and he only needed to look in the mirror to find an example; yet, whatever it was up with her and Bass and Miles and however fucked up it was, Jeremy saw her effect on Bass whose eyes lost the glint of craziness and paranoia the moment she appeared: Bass suddenly seemed the man Jeremy met fifteen years ago – the Bass with a sense of shame for his blatant lie and a remnant of naïveté that used to drive him to do the right thing, a man redirected to the path he had lost.

Alien Encounters, Changing Fates, Business as Usual (Killjoys, Revolution, Supernatural | various characters | NR)

After what seems like ages, the turbulence ends with one final jolt that rattles every single bone in their bodies, a clear signal that they have landed – somewhere.

It’s Us Who Own the Apocalypse (Revolution | various pairings | NR)

2030

For the umpteenth time in her life, Rachel regrets getting involved with the goddamn DOD – and for the umpteenth time as well, she acknowledges that she would have done it again if it meant saving Danny – when she almost stumbles into her office from yet another meeting in which she had to fight tooth-and-nail against the bastards trying to use her work for their nefarious purposes.

Convalescence (Quantico | Clayton Haas | NR)

Clayton flinches when he hears the door being unlocked. He always flinches when someone is at the door, although he knows the chance of anyone finding him here is miniscule. The shame at his own cowardice makes him nauseous for a moment; he didn’t use to be one to succumb to fears, but he supposes a near-death experience would do this to a man.

When the Night Breaks (The 100 | Bellamy/Roan | E)

“I’m sorry about your arm.”

The Princess and the Pirates (Revolution | various characters | T)

“Sail out. My brother Miles is out there at sea. He’ll help you.”

Each of Us Is Broken, Always and Forever (The Originals | Elijah/Rebekah/Klaus | E)

“Good evening.”

Hollow (The 100 | Bellarke | NR)

He hadn’t realised it would be like missing a limb. Like in those stories he had heard on the Ark long ago, of a person’s left hand trying to scratch the right one that is no longer there, of phantom pain where there used to be a body part.

There’s a War… but All I See Is You and Me (Agents of Shield | Bakshimmons | E)

It is a stupid thing to wish, but if he were able to stop the time, he would freeze them in those minutes when Jemma giggles between kisses before collapsing on the bed and pulling him down with her.

***

Oh, this took me to 2015 and that shitshow we do not mention, although am sorry I haven't finished this particular fic (but I won't. Nope, nope. Because I'd have to rewatch S2 for that and no, no, no. No. Yes, that's how many no-s it deserves.)

Thank you for the tag, ES, it was nice remembering things I did well, if I say so myself!

It took me so long because on the day you tagged me I started writing it right away and then tumblr decided that e and l are not acceptable letters - I got scared my keyboard was dying, but nope, it worked just fine when typing in word or even into a search line on another tab in the same browser, but tumblr just wouldn't 'take' them.

Also, I remember doing something similar before but with only 10 fics and I could've copy-pasted that and just add the next ten, but do you think I remembered it before I'd already painstakingly did 10 fics? Of course not.

And then, as I think you saw I was too scatter-brained for anything.

Why I'm even explaining this? I think it's the lack of contact with like actual normal humans and this is the closest, so I over do it. Oh, well, if I've already put in the effort to type it all. ;)

Oh, right, patterns: I tend to really vary in style? Though maybe shorter openings are more frequent than more wordy ones.

And my favourite are those from Hollow, Dominoes Falling, and Convalescence. Which one is yours?

Tagging (if it helps you feel better, otherwise, feel free to ignore): @bea2me, @jadedbirch, @abedsmessedupmeta, @stargazerdaisy, @vesperass-anuna and IDK who ever is still writing, oh @blue-charlotte and anyone else who wants to do it! :)

#writing meme #tag meme #this is also an excellent opportunity for self-brag #;)#eveninspirit

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

do u have a fic list of BAMF john getting kidnapped?

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I’ve quite a few Kidnapping fics!

Kidnapping, Hostage, & Stalking

Kidnapping, Hostage & Stalking Pt. 2

KIDNAPPING, HOSTAGE & STALKING Pt. 3

Booted by Sexxica (E, 1,175 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped, Kidnapping, Handcuffs, Biting Kink, Blow Jobs, Coming in Pants, Tight Spaces, Humour, Smut, 69 Sex Position, BJ’s Through Pants) – John and Sherlock have been kidnapped, handcuffed, and stuffed together in a car boot. How come they can never take these situations seriously? Part 3 of the Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild

Imminent by LoyalPaddler (K+, 1,187 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Open Ending) – What did it say about a person if he recognized the feeling of waking up concussed, blindfolded, and handcuffed to a chair? Probably not good, that.

Coming Full Circle by KCS (K+, 2,358 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate TGG, Friendship, Drama, Violence/Death References, Drugging/Poisoning, Kidnapping, BAMF John, Moriarty POV, Introspection) – Moriarty had John for almost six hours between his abduction and the showdown at the pool - more than enough time to implement a Plan B for his escape should Sherlock call his bluff with the fake bomb vest.

The Hours Before Midnight by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 7,773 w., 1 Ch. || TGG Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture / John Whump, Kidnapping, Drugging, Alternating POV, Worried / Protective Sherlock) – Moriarty doesn't play fair. John must deal with hours of torment from Moriarty before going to meet Sherlock at the Pool at the end of the Great Game and Sherlock must deal with the consequences of his boredom.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch.|| Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #kidnapping fics #bamf john #Anonymous #my fic recs #fic rec sunday

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roronoa-swords · 3 years

Text

Cop and Thief

Smoker x Portgas D. Ace

Fandom: One Piece

Genre: Smut with a lil angst

Timeline: Modern AU!

Pairing: Smoker x Ace

Request: For Op-Law from wattpad. You can also find this story there under the name Da3Stuges. I share an account with two other amazing authors💚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is the second time Portgas. When are you going to learn that doing arson is illegal?" A white haired male snarled with an irritated look on his face.

"C'mon Smokey, when are you gonna lighten up a bit? It's the 21st century, stop being so...old." The man named 'Portgas' said as he laid his head on the table.

Smoker let out a deep sigh before he uncuffed the man. "Just-...." The older man breathed. "Just get outta my sight Portgas. If I see you in here again, you're gonna regret it."

"Oh I'm soooo scared!" He mocks. "See you later old man!" The ravenette said as he ran out of the police station. Smoker's assistant, Tashigi only stood in pure, agitated disbelief.

"Why do you keep letting him go Sergeant Smoker? He's only gonna cause more trouble, not only for you, but for the entire GPD! We have to go get him!" The navy haired woman with red glasses perched on top of her head complained.

Smoker sighed. He was asked -and told- the same thing every single time. Smoker waved her off.

"Stand down Tashigi. Portgas acts like any other old reckless youngster, there is no need to get rash." Sergeant Smoker seriously needed a break. He already gained a headache trying to apprehend Portgas. He didn't need this extra addition. But, it seems Tashigi didn't get the memo.

"But sir! Portgas D. Ace is the eldest of the infamous ASL brothers! Those three terrorize any store they find! And just for food?!?! He's also allies with Whitebeard and Roger! He needs to be apprehended immediately before his entire posse raid this whole town!" The woman screeched as she tried to get her point across.

"I said stand down cadet!" He barked. "I am aware of Portgas' affiliations, I am aware of his younger brothers, and I am very much aware of the consequences of him continuing to run free." It's like the people in this damned department didn't understand.

"Please stop rambling nonsense around my head and move on from this subject. To be quite frank, I'm done with Portgas and his case. So if you want to capture him so bad, why don't you go and do it?" Smoker sneered as he has gotten fed up with Tashigi and her screeching.

"But Sergeant Smoker-.." She tried to reason but never got to finish her sentence. Smoker upped and left the room.

"Damned people. I don't know how many times they want me to repeat the same words over and over again." He grumbled as he stomped his way to his office.

"That damn brat is growing on me. Without him, these calls won't be challenging at all."

He sighed, entering his office. Sitting down on the slightly worn out chair, he gazed upon his achievements that were mounted on the wall.

'Soon, I won't have a job if I keep this up.' He thought with a sigh. This whole situation was troublesome.

Suddenly, a knock was heard.

"Enter." The tired male spoke. He waited to see who would be on the other side of his door. Surprisingly, it was Monkey D. Garp, the retired chief of police. Smoker stood up, as a sign of respect.

"G-Garp-San," He hesitated. "To what do I owe this visit? More so, why have you came to visit me?" Smoker was puzzled. Why was the greatest chief of police that ever resided in this town, here in his office?

Garp stood as strong as ever. Dressed down in his white button up and some white dress pants.

"Well, Sergeant," Garp began. " a little birdy...more-so...your assistant Tashigi, seemed to be in distress. I asked her, and she told me that you keep letting a certain freckled faced fellow go." Smoker kept his composure, but inwardly groaned. That woman could never keep her mouth shut.

"Mind explaining why you are releasing my grandson only to capture him again later on?" Garp questioned as he looked at Smoker with curious amusement.

Smoker stayed silent. It wasn't that he didn't know how to answer the question, it was more of him in denial.

"To be honest with you Chief...I'm not sure why I do that." He said scratching the back of his neck. A sign that Garp picked up from past visits, indicating he was nervous.

"Portgas brings...life to the chases we do-" Smoker paused. "him and his brothers." He continues. "So taking them in would diminish all the fun." Garp stared at him for a minute before answering.

"But you do know that even if they do rob stores for food, they have very strong and dangerous allies." He stated. "Ace with Whitebeard and Roger, Sabo with Dragon, and Luffy with Shanks. Not to mention they have their own crews. For example, Luffy and his Straw hat brats." Garp concluded as fixed Smoker with a stare.

"Though I am assuming- and hoping that this isn't the case-" Garp straightens to his full height. "Could it be that you are starting to harbor feelings for the brat?" Garp asked.

The male in question thought about the elders statement. 'Do I like Portgas? No....no I can't do that. There's no way. Unless...?' Smoker thought as he racked through his brain for answers.

Garp sighed. "Well, I've got to go. Even though they are criminals, they're still my grandkids. However, they are gonna get a rude awakening when I return back home from the holidays." He said with a menacing smile as he cracked his knuckles. He looked at Smoker then smirked at him before exited out of his office.

'That was weird.' The white haired male said as he lit up a cigar. He sat down and took a puff. He sighed out a breath as he wondered.

'What am I going to do?'

(Ace's POV)

"LUFFY! ACE! LET'S GO!" Sabo shouted. We just raided one of our favorite restaurants. We dodged a couple of frying pans, cutting boards, and a few stray eating utensils along the way. We finally arrive to our usual little hiding spot. We're here just until things die down, then we normally make our way home. Fuck I'm tired. I focus on catching my breath as Luffy starts laughing.

"Shishishi~ I got all the meat!" My idiot of a little brother exclaims.

"Lies! I got some meat too- and I aint sharing so don't give me that face." I said as my straw hat wearing brother pouts.

"You idiots argue for the most simplest things," Sabo rolled his eyes. "it's unbelievable sometimes." He sighed as he looked down in embarrassment.

"WHO YOU CALLING AN IDIOT, BARBIE DOLL?!?" I snap.

"EH!? YOU WANNA FIGHT?!" Sabo shouts back. Oh ho hooo I am not backing down bitch.

"BRING IT ON YOU SMURF!"

Sabo and I were head to head and I could see the electricity between us. "Shishishi~ usually it's me and Ace or Ace and Smokey." Luffy said as he munched on a bag of chips.

"Speaking of Smokey, he always catches you and then lets you go 5 hours later. Wanna explain?" Sabo said as he looked at me with a smirk on his face. I felt my cheeks heat up as I look the other way.

"There's nothing to explain. He catches me, we talk, then he lets me go. Nothing else." I mumbled, hoping Sabo wouldn't press into the situation more.

"Judging by your face I think you have some attraction for him." Apparently, he didn't get the hint or he got it and just didn't care.

"Ugh just drop it Sabo. Even if I DID like him there is absolutely NO POSSIBLE WAY Oyaji or that old bastard would approve." I sulk.

Sabo walks up to me and grabs my shoulders. "Wouldn't approve of what? You being gay?"

"Hmm? Oh, No, I told them my preference before and they didn't have a problem. I think they wouldn't approve because of who I chose to like. Remember," I sigh. "He's a cop. I'm a thief. Not to mention my stupid old man. It isn't gonna work."

I turn away from him as my shoulders droop. 'Besides..I think he likes that little assistant of his...despite how annoying she is.' I thought as a I succumb to my inner thoughts.

"Eh, Ace, I know you're worried about their opinion, but, if you really like him, you gotta face your fears and tell him. Rejection is always better than regret." Luffy said with a serious expression.

Sabo and I looked at him shocked. He tilts his head in confusion. 'Luffy....has a brain?' I stare at him.

"What? Is there something on my face?" He picks his nose.

'Well nevermind he's back to being an idiot.' I sweatdrop.

"Well, we should get going. Thatch needs to cook the food." Sabo said and as soon as he did, Luffy and I race back to the house.

"Hey! Wait for me! Guys!" I hear Sabo shout.

~timeskip brought to you by Marco chasing Ace around in a pineapple tank top~

"Why...did you guys..run of like that?" Sabo panted as he finally caught up with us.

"You've gotten slow Sabo..need to fix that." I say as I smirk mischievously at him. He pales at my sentence and begins to mumble something before Luffy's voice is heard, shouting so the whole block hears him. "WE'RE HOME!"

He then turns towards us, "Let's go, I want FOOODD!" and dashes inside.

Sabo and I stare at him for a second before his words fully register in my mind. "DON'T EAT ALL THE MEAT LUFFY!" I shout. I dash inside, leaving Sabo in the dust.

"Thatch! Marco! Oyaji! How are you guys?" I ask as we all sit at the table. Well Oyaji stood, but that doesn't make much of a difference.

"We're fine." Thatch hummed, "-but mind telling why you got captured today?" he questions as he glances behind him, amused.

"Oh, um...how'd you know about that?" I laugh nervously with an uneasy feeling in my chest.

"Gurararara~ We know everything around here, brat. Did you forget already?" Oyaji says, with his signature laugh.

I facepalm because of my stupidity. 'Of course Oyaji would know the smoking Sargeant.'

"Shishishi~ Ace got captured by Smokey! But their fight was..weird." Luffy's shine like literal stars as Thatch sets a plate full of meat in front of him. "Weird like how yoi?" Marco spoke, leaning on the table with a lazy smirk.

"They were saying weird stuff to each other. Like when Ace said that if Smokey has this much energy fighting, how much energy would he have in-" Luffy didn't get to finish before I shoved a piece of meat in his mouth. "OKAYY," I chuckle nervously, "we don't need to hear anymore a that, right Sabo?" I force a smile, praying that Sabo would be on my side.

Sabo looks at me before smirking. 'Oh no'

"I don't know, Ace...you were kinda..touchy with him today." He teased. "Any reason why?" I look at him with the most hateful gaze ever, but he just brushes it off. 'Damnit Sabo! You're gonna make Oyaji kill him you overgrown barbie doll!'

Everyone at the table looked at me with a face of interest. Even Izo, Vista and Haruta.

'When the hell did they get here?'

The only one who didn't had a readable expression was Oyaji. 'Fuck...he's gonna kill me'

"Were you flirting- with Sergeant Smoker, Ace?" Izo questioned me with a large smirk on his rose colored lips. Before I even had the chance to answer, the overgrown, knock-off barbie doll on the right of me spoke up.

"Flirting? It was like watching sex happen in front of my eyes-" He didn't get to finish as I slammed my fist on top of his head.

"Damnit Sabo! Are you trying to get me killed?!" I yelled as I stood up from my seat, meat on my plate forgotten.

"I mean you needed a push and I'm there to help." He winced as he rubbed the top of his head. Before I said anything, I was cut of again.

'Why the fuck do I keep getting interrupted!? I'm running out of patience.'

"Ace.." Oyaji started as he looked at me with a glare, some haki leaking through. "Are you interested in this...Sergeant?" He finished. The whole table went down in silence and Sabo looks away from me, I don't have to look at him to know he feels full of guilt.

"No Oyaji.....what gave you that idea?" I say, not looking at Oyaji in the eye.

"Ace..you know that relationship will not work. He's a Sergeant, a cop," He emphasizes. "...and you. You're a thief." He says firmly, staring into my being.

"Your relationship is gonna end up in two ways. One, he continues to set you free after every chase and loses his rank- or worse, his job-"

'I don't want to be the reason he loses his job.' I clench my fist.

"Or two, you get caught and thrown in jail." Oyaji speaks. I know what he's saying. I know what he's trying to get into my head.

"Either he's gone or your life is over."

'I know the risks....I know I don't have a chance. But why does it hurt so much hearing it from you, Oyaji?'

I thought as I bit my bottom lip.

"Honestly," He grunts. "I don't care who you date. Your father, however, is the problem." I tch. That stupid old man.

"You know he has issues trusting the police. Ever since the incident with your mother." He continued. "Of course she's alive and well, but he almost lost her, Ace. He almost lost you.

I put my head down in shame.

'I knew it. They wouldn't approve. They wouldn't accept it. Damn it.'

"I know that Oyaji..that's why I said I don't like him you know." I bark a laugh. It sounded so mechanic that Luffy had stopped eating.

"...Sabo and Luffy were just messing with me." I say flashing a pained smile, a vain attempt to seem unfazed.

"Ace.." Thatch calls. I don't answer.

"Well, that settles that. I'm going to be in my room. I'm not hungry." I slide the plate over in between Sabo and Luffy, signaling that they can have my share.

I walk out of the dining room and head to my room. 'Nothing is ever fair anymore.'

I open the door to my room and slam it closed, locking it behind me. I huff. For fuck's sake.

'I need to cool down...I don't need another lecture from Marco about burning holes into my bedroom walls again.'

Shuffling around in my room, trying to calm down- though I'm unsuccessful-, something clicks.

What if....?

I rush and throw on a shirt. I don't bother to button it up cause why not. Opening my window and climbing out, I breathe in slight anticipation.

'Maybe he's on duty tonight...'

(Sabo's POV)

I watch Ace leave the dining room with a hurt look in his eyes. 'I over did it.' I can't help but think. Pops sighs before he took a sip of his sake.

"I know the brat likes that Sergeant and frankly, I would like to see them together, but Roger wouldn't allow it."

Ah, speaking of the devil. Said man enters the house with Aunt Rouge and Uncle Rayleigh following behind him.

'Just how many people live here?' I sweatdropped.

"Ahaaa Newgate! Pass over the sake you old geezer!" Roger exclaimed, dismissing the tense atmosphere in the room. 'He either doesn't notice it, or he notices and doesn't care. Probably the latter.'

"Gurararara~ Go get your own, this one's mine." Pops said as he hogged up the rest of the sake on the table.

"Aww cmon, you drinked the rest of the booze ya old bastard." Roger complained as he took a seat next to Pops.

"For an old man he really asks like a kid yoi." Marco mumbles. "Tell me about it, and I'm married to him." Aunt Rouge added as she put two fingers on the bridge of her nose.

"Oiii!" Roger exclaimed with a pout. 'He really is a man baby'

"Roger.. Rouge.. there is something we need to...discuss." Pops says as his smile drops.

Sensing the tension in the room, Roger stopped smiling and gave a blank stare. "About what Newgate?" He questioned. "It's about Ace." Pops said.

As if the room dropped below freezing point, Roger gave Pops a ice cold stare as his haki started to leak out.

"What happened to my son?" He asked as he stood up. Marco and Thatch stood next to Pops just in case something happens.

'Now I see why Ace doesn't tell you things, Roger. You're overprotective.' I thought as I made my way over to Luffy.

"Nothing happened to him Roger..." Oyaji paused. "He's just.....experiencing feelings for someone, is all." Pops concluded.

Roger visibly relaxed and smiled "Then what's the problem? You got me all tense for nothing!" He exclaimed as he laugh, but Pops only chuckled. "Ah but wait, he's interested in an officer. Down at the GPD, there's a smokey Sergeant that's caught Ace's attention." Pops said

Roger's smile disappeared and was replaced with an angry scowl almost immediately.

"Absolutely not. There's NO WAY I'm letting my only son date an officer. After what they did to us?! No way." He said as he threw his hands up. Roger only looked away in anger and slight disbelief.

"If I may ask...what happened exactly yoi?" Marco questioned. Though, this is the first time I've seen Marco flinch when someone answered his questions.

'Now I reallyyyy understand why Ace don't tell him anything.'

"When Rouge was pregnant with Ace, I was on the run from the government. I was caught and my execution was planned, but they didn't go through with it." He started. "Because it was unsafe, Rouge was forced to hold Ace for 20 months. Thus causing his birth to be heavily delayed. When it was time for Rouge to give birth, I broke out of the prison they kept me in."

As Roger talked, I could feel the raw hatred, and bits of Haki begin to pour out into the room. ~To be continued~

#anime #portgas d ace #gol d. roger #smoker #modern au #straw hat luffy

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somegirlsnerdywords2 · 4 years

Text

Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a S (Part 2)!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Shimoneta to Iu Gainen ga Sonzai Shinai Taikutsu na Sekai:

Genres: Comedy, Ecchi, School

Synopsis: With the introduction of strict new morality laws, Japan has become a nation cleansed of all that is obscene and impure. By monitoring citizens using special devices worn around their necks, authorities have taken extreme measures to ensure that society remains chaste. In this world of sexual suppression, Tanukichi Okuma—son of an infamous terrorist who opposed the chastity laws—has just entered high school, offering his help to the student council in order to get close to president Anna Nishikinomiya, his childhood friend and crush. Little does he know that the vice president Ayame Kajou has a secret identity: Blue Snow, a masked criminal dedicated to spreading lewd material amongst the sheltered public—and Tanukichi has caught the girl's interest due to his father's notoriety. Soon, Tanukichi is dragged into joining her organization called SOX, where he is forced to spread obscene propaganda, helping to launch an assault against the government's oppressive rule. With their school set as the first point of attack, Tanukichi will have to do the unthinkable when he realizes that their primary target is the person he admires most. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Super pervy but surprisingly funny and somewhat enjoyable. The only character that really made me cringe hard and want to tear my eyes out and scrub my brain was Anna... she was just too much. Just no. Not one i’d suggest or am likely to watch again but if it’s your thing, go for it.

Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan):

Genres: Action, Military, Mystery, Super Power, Drama, Fantasy, Shounen

Synopsis: Centuries ago, mankind was slaughtered to near extinction by monstrous humanoid creatures called titans, forcing humans to hide in fear behind enormous concentric walls. What makes these giants truly terrifying is that their taste for human flesh is not born out of hunger but what appears to be out of pleasure. To ensure their survival, the remnants of humanity began living within defensive barriers, resulting in one hundred years without a single titan encounter. However, that fragile calm is soon shattered when a colossal titan manages to breach the supposedly impregnable outer wall, reigniting the fight for survival against the man-eating abominations. After witnessing a horrific personal loss at the hands of the invading creatures, Eren Yeager dedicates his life to their eradication by enlisting into the Survey Corps, an elite military unit that combats the merciless humanoids outside the protection of the walls. Based on Hajime Isayama's award-winning manga, Shingeki no Kyojin follows Eren, along with his adopted sister Mikasa Ackerman and his childhood friend Armin Arlert, as they join the brutal war against the titans and race to discover a way of defeating them before the last walls are breached. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2013 with a total of 25 episodes.

My Thoughts: The first season was a damn near masterpiece and it’s rise in popularity was no shock after watching it. Amazing opening theme, fitting art/ style and a pretty interesting story. This is the type of anime that i’d likely suggest to someone who isn’t actually all that interested in anime.

Shingeki no Kyojin Season 2 (Attack on Titan Seaon 2):

Genres: Action, Military, Mystery, Super Power, Drama, Fantasy, Shounen

Synopsis: For centuries, humanity has been hunted by giant, mysterious predators known as the Titans. Three mighty walls—Wall Maria, Rose, and Sheena—provided peace and protection for humanity for over a hundred years. That peace, however, was shattered when the Colossus Titan and Armored Titan appeared and destroyed the outermost wall, Wall Maria. Forced to retreat behind Wall Rose, humanity waited with bated breath for the Titans to reappear and destroy their safe haven once more. In Shingeki no Kyojin Season 2, Eren Yeager and others of the 104th Training Corps have just begun to become full members of the Survey Corps. As they ready themselves to face the Titans once again, their preparations are interrupted by the invasion of Wall Rose—but all is not as it seems as more mysteries are unraveled. As the Survey Corps races to save the wall, they uncover more about the invading Titans and the dark secrets of their own members. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7.5/10

Finished airing in 2017 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: I have a very love/ hate sort of relationship with every season of this anime after the first. I still find it to be an extremely interesting anime and story that’s quite well done but certain negatives keep popping up as i’m watching, things I can’t quite ignore. Still pretty good series overall though.

Shingeki no Kyojin Season 3 (Attack on Titan Season 3):

Genres: Action, Military, Mystery, Super Power, Drama, Fantasy, Shounen

Synopsis: Still threatened by the "Titans" that rob them of their freedom, mankind remains caged inside the two remaining walls. Efforts to eradicate these monsters continue; however, threats arise not only from the Titans beyond the walls, but from the humans within them as well. After being rescued from the Colossal and Armored Titans, Eren Yaeger devotes himself to improving his Titan form. Krista Lenz struggles to accept the loss of her friend, Captain Levi chooses Eren and his friends to form his new personal squad, and Commander Erwin Smith recovers from his injuries. All seems well for the soldiers, until the government suddenly demands custody of Eren and Krista. The Survey Corps' recent successes have drawn attention, and a familiar face from Levi's past is sent to collect the wanted soldiers. Sought after by the government, Levi and his new squad must evade their adversaries in hopes of keeping Eren and Krista safe. In Shingeki no Kyojin Season 3, Eren and his fellow soldiers are not only fighting for their survival against the terrifying Titans, but also against the terror of a far more conniving foe: humans. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

Finished airing in 2018 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: I just don’t really care for the characters... I mean I don’t hate them but that connection just isn’t there. Which may be a large part in why I don’t LOVE this series. Still, this season was a bit better than the previous one.

Shingeki no Kyojin Season 3 Part 2 (Attack on Titan Season 3 Part 2):

Genres: Military, shounen, action, Mystery, Super Power, Drama, Fantasy

Synopsis: Seeking to restore humanity’s diminishing hope, the Survey Corps embark on a mission to retake Wall Maria, where the battle against the merciless "Titans" takes the stage once again.

Returning to the tattered Shiganshina District that was once his home, Eren Yeager and the Corps find the town oddly unoccupied by Titans. Even after the outer gate is plugged, they strangely encounter no opposition. The mission progresses smoothly until Armin Arlert, highly suspicious of the enemy's absence, discovers distressing signs of a potential scheme against them.

Shingeki no Kyojin Season 3 Part 2 follows Eren as he vows to take back everything that was once his. Alongside him, the Survey Corps strive—through countless sacrifices—to carve a path towards victory and uncover the secrets locked away in the Yeager family's basement.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2019 with a total of 10 episodes.

My Thoughts: That’s the stuff. That’s the stuff I loved about the very first season of the anime. A vast improvment from the previous two seasons in my opinion!

Shingeki no Kyojin: Kuinaki Sentaku (Attack on Titan: No Regrets):

Genres: OVA, Action, Fantasy

Synopsis: Many years before becoming the famed captain of the Survey Corps, a young Levi struggles to survive in the capital's garbage dump, the Underground. As the boss of his own criminal operation, Levi attempts to get by with meager earnings while aided by fellow criminals, Isabel Magnolia and Farlan Church. With little hope for the future, Levi accepts a deal from the anti-expedition faction leader Nicholas Lobov, who promises the trio citizenship aboveground if they are able to successfully assassinate Erwin Smith, a squad leader of the Survey Corps. As Levi and Erwin cross paths, Erwin acknowledges Levi's agility and skill and gives him the option to either become part of the expedition team, or be turned over to the Military Police, to atone for his crimes. Now closer to the man they are tasked to kill, the group plans to complete their mission and save themselves from a grim demise in the dim recesses of their past home. However, they are about to learn that the surface world is not as liberating as they had thought and that sometimes, freedom can come at a heavy price. Based on the popular spin-off manga of the same name, Shingeki no Kyojin: Kuinaki Sentaku illustrates the encounter between two of Shingeki no Kyojin's pivotal characters, as well as the events of the 23rd expedition beyond the walls. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 2 episodes.

My Thoughts: I love Levi, he’s probably the only character I really care all that much about in this series but I just didn’t love this OVA!

#Anime #Shimoneta to iu gainen ga sonzai shinai taikutsu na sekai #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan: no regrets

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Soul Seer, Pt. 3

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: None this Chapter, but later

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

* * *

Banner and Stark popped up from behind the server banks like a pair of meerkats when the door opened. Steve Rogers entered the room, a stern expression already locked on his face. Stark leaned casually on the wall, cleaning his immaculate nails with the screwdriver in his hand. “Hey Cap, you come to let us know that it’s dinner time, ‘cause you didn’t need to bother. My stomach is getting louder than when big green wants to redecorate.”

“No.” Steve fought to not roll his eyes. “Tell me you’re not doing what I’ve been told you’re doing.”

“Okay.” Tony shrugged. “We’re not.”

“Tony.”

“What?”

“Are you hijacking the SHIELD surveillance on Loki?” Steve frowned.

“Hacking.” Stark corrected. “It’s hacking. And it’s not about Loki, it’s about (Y/N). Having Reindeer Games rattling around in her head has got to be tough enough, I’m not going to hand her over to SHIELD on a silver platter, too.”

“What do you mean?” Steve took in the concerned look on both their faces.

“Now that they know she has this ability, and that she’s got all that knowledge from Loki in her mind,” Banner interjected. “You don’t think SHIELD would use any means necessary to assure her participation.”

“Like, say using footage of her crying and breaking down – a totally normal reaction when you’ve had a GOD shoved in your brain – to prove that you’re unstable and should be committed against your will.” Tony spat.

“You know it’s not beyond them.” Bruce sighed.

“So, you’re just going to turn the camera’s off?” Cap crossed his arms. Not liking the idea, but understanding the dilemma.

“We’re going to fake it.” Stark shrugged. “Jarvis has been recording them for the last several hours. He’s created innocuous scenarios of them in discussions, reading, so on, to replace anything that needs to be replaced.”

“Currently, we have created a time delay of three minutes by stretching out the records by a few seconds at a time. That way we can still monitor what’s going on, but what goes on to the SHIELD monitors is controlled.” Bruce finished.

“And you’re confident this will work.” Steve asked, leaning against the desk. “They won’t be able to tell?”

“They’d have to beat Jarvis’ programming and they can’t.” Stark confirmed. “So, you going to rat on us, Cap?”

“No.” He sighed. “I’ll take a turn monitoring. This needs to stay as quite as possible. How are you going to let (Y/N) know?”

“That’s where Thor comes in.”

* * * * *

Loki sat across the room, sipping on a cup of tea and holding yet another book. He spent more time watching your sleeping form out of the corner of his eye than reading, but those who watched would never know. Even though he placed you in the Dreamless Sleep, the urge to guard over you possessed him.

It took conscious effort to maintain the mask of passive indifference. How was he to mitigate the risk of someone, a mortal no less, knowing his inner most thoughts and memories? He looked at you, internally smirking at the irony that the very reason he felt the urge to protect you was the same reason he would normally kill you.

A Midgardian mortal. The Norns must be laughing their asses off.

Still, Loki admitted to himself, your ability to adapt impressed him. Your grasp of the situation, and the danger, impressed him as well. When you asked to be put back to sleep, he knew it was not physical fatigue you sought to remedy. Your walls were crumbling.

The door opened. Loki did not hide the deep frown.

Thor’s bulk filled the doorway. He approached his brother cautiously, noting your sleeping figure on the bed, as he held out a book. “Brother. I’ve brought you something from home.”

“Your home, not mine.” Loki sneered, yet he snatched the book out of his hand.

“I have spoken with Father about the information you shared here.” Thor sat across from Loki.

“And?” Loki outwardly looked disinterested, but he knew the information would greatly impact his fate. Thor did not immediately answer. When Loki flipped open the book to avoid looking at his brother, he understood why. A new inscription had been written on the inside of his favorite tome.

Written in Thor’s sloppy Vanir. “The iron one has diverted the eyes of the shield so the little one may cry without fear. Your secrets and hers will remain safe from now till two days hence.”

Loki looked up. “What does Odin say?”

“He was,” Thor sighed, “unmoved. However, Mother convinced him to reflect for a night before making any decision.”

“She wishes to make her opinion known.”

“Mother is...” Thor shrugged.

“A force.” Loki grinned.

Thor returned his grin, but it fell away quickly. “I will return as soon as I have news from Odin. We have convinced the powers here not to make a decision until we have a declaration from Asgard. It could be a few days. In the meantime, stay well, brother.”

Loki nodded. “Thank you for the book.”

As soon as the door closed he moved silently to it. Tracing the frame with a touch of his magic to seal the room from any sound escaping, he stood back and waited for someone to rush in. Nothing happened. Magically he rid himself of the clothes he wore, replacing them with soft silk pants and a tunic. Again, no one rushed in. He moved to you, waving a hand over your body clothing you in much the same way. He waited. No one intruded.

Stark was true to his word.

Loki sat beside you, smoothing back your hair and waking your from the Dreamless Sleep. Your eyes opened slowly. The feeling of rich silk on your skin made you smile. Then you realized it was not how you fell asleep.

“Did you change my clothes?” You asked quietly, a little shocked.

Loki smiled. “Yes, pet. With magic. I assure you, nothing inappropriate took place.”

“Magic?” You sat up. “And I missed it?”

“You will have plenty opportunity.” Loki’s long delicate fingers cupped your face. “Stark has managed to blind SHIELD from seeing us for a short time. Your words appeared to have an impact.”

“Oh.” You breathed, just staring at his strong angular features. The wick sharp eyes looked back, turning soft and sorrowful. “Oh. So we’re...” Your chest felt tight. The tension behind your eyes made them burn. “We’re actually alone.”

“I have cast a silence spell on the room.” Loki stroked your cheek. “Even the men posted outside would not hear the loudest scream.”

“What if I can’t stop?” You whispered, feeling as if a storm surge continued to grow over you like a tidal wave from a disaster movie.

“I will be here.” Loki pressed his lips to the skin of your temple.

It began with silent tears, a trickle of wetness trailing down your cheeks. Soon your lungs would not expand to allow you to breathe. Panic sunk its talons into your chest. Fire burned in your throat. Too many pains, too many aches, tried to claw from your heart at once.

Loki held you to his chest, whispering quiet assurances to you. “Breathe, my pet. Let it come. You are strong. It will not break you.”

Pain, fear, anger, betrayal boiled up and ate at your throat like acid. Your fingers wound in Loki’s strong grip. “Fuck!”

A sad, rueful chuckle escaped his chest. “Most apt.”

“How? Fuck, Loki! How do you live with this?” You cried. It wouldn’t stop. Wave after wave crashed into you, stealing your breath and wracking your body. Time lost meaning.

Somehow the room turned dark and you found yourself laying on the bed, curled against Loki’s chest. You held a damp linen handkerchief. The horrid, overwhelming emotions settled. It left you exhausted, raw. Tears still escaped from your tired eyes.

You tipped your head up, seeing Loki’s face calm and passive. Except his eyes held the evidence his own tears. Dropping your head back to his chest, too tired to wonder how you ended up in the position or to question why it felt so comfortable, you buried your face against his chest. He wrapped himself tighter around you.

“Why?” Your voice was hoarse. “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Hold on to it all.” Taking a deep breath, it shuddered upon release. “For so long.”

Loki lay silently for a long time. You could imagine he was arguing with himself about whether or not you deserved an answer. So, you decided make the argument for him.

“Loki,” You began slowly. “I know you would never, ever, entertain the idea discussing such a thing with anyone, especially a mortal.” You felt him tense slightly. “But for whatever reason, I was able to help you. It came with a cost, though. I’ve been in your head, and survived. Now, knowing what I know of you, it puts us in a difficult situation.” You took a deep breath. “You can either trust me and have someone, for the first time ever, that really understands. Or you can doubt me and kill me for what I know.”

He lifted your face, to stare into your eyes. Something unidentifiable burned there. The feelings radiating off him were deep and too complex to pin down. Finally, Loki pressed his lips to your forehead and spoke, his voice thick and deep. “I vow that you shall not die by my hand, though what you ask is not something I can answer yet.”

“Fair enough.” You sighed, relaxing back against him. “What time is it?”

“Your breakdown lasted approximately four hours.”

The absurdity of the way he answered made you giggle.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You wiped the last of your tears away. The giggle felt good. “I need to laugh.”

“You need to sleep.” Loki tried to hold you against him.

“No. Tell me a story, something funny, something embarrassing about Thor.”

He sighed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Very well. When we were young, Thor took a liking to this particular daughter of one of our father’s generals...”

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but Loki brought tears of laughter to your eyes and recited tales told to him by Frigga until you drifted to sleep.

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#loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki fic #loki fanfiction

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dead-fandom-imagines · 4 years

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Unchain My Heart | Chapter 1

I was originally going to post this on Wednesday, but then I was like, what the hell. Here you go my guys.

TITLE: Unchain My Heart

CHAPTER: Chapter I

PAIRING: Dr. Greg House x OC Female

WORD COUNT: 3,196

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ll try to post a new chapter every week, and I want to try and hit over 2,600 words each chapter too. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

THE WALLS SEEMED TO BE CAVING IN, not because Kylan Taylor was nervous on her first day on the job, no, it was all the people that seemed to be alive that made her nerves twitch and spasm. Working for five years alone in a basement does something to a person's psyche, and even more so when the people you're constantly surrounded by have been dead for more than a few days. As in, they twitched, gassed, and sometimes even breathed, but most of them had either their brain bashed in, or worse, no head at all, to comment on how her hair was always pulled with a broken pen, how her makeup became horribly smudged after working thirty hours straight, how sometimes she smelt like a mix of formaldehyde, Chinese food and other people's BO after long nights. Now she had to interact with people. Gross, disgusting, breathing human beings.

"It won't be that bad," Dr. James Wilson reassured her, handing Kylan a manila folder of paperwork she had yet to fill out. About three inches thick of stapled books and contracts she'd barely graze through, and she stuck it right underneath her arm with the other packs of paper and a mass amount of protocol packets she's received since she entered the doors that morning. The hospital must have chopped down a new tree just for her paperwork alone, how many forests rested on her new desk?

"Won't be that bad," Kylan scoffed, rolling her eyes, "didn't you say that about medical school before I applied?"

James pressed one of the elevator buttons, downwards to Kylan's new and improved basement, and chuckled to himself. It was hard not to. She seemed to still be pissed about not getting the full hardened truth of how awful and tedious medical school really was, instead, James had dazzled his story with a flat-out hopeful lie while she still attended Columbia University without him. Kylan had such childish eyes back then. Like honey drizzled in coffee.

"If I remember correctly, I said it was like normal classes." And a smile spread on his pretty-boy features, diverting his attention from Kylan enough to make his point, "what I didn't tell you was the classes were all set on fire and you had only oil to put them out."

The elevator doors opened briefly and fast enough before Kylan could stab in another remark about her undergrad years. A few nurses dressed in colorful scrubs stepped out, and James and Kylan stepped in to replace them just as quickly.

"Any reason why the hospital is so busy?" She asked, pressing the button to the last level. Her curiosity seemed to be getting the better of her. She usually wouldn't have pried, but with James, she allowed it to slide. "Any epidemics I should be worried about?"

"It's always like this."

"Always?"

A shiver ran down her spine. Hospitals were never her favorite, in fact, she resented them with every fiber in her being. Everything about modern medicine caused her skin to crawl in a million different ways, the smells, the touch, the needles. She could sew up a body, chop it up, pull out their organs no problem, but it usually took three weeks of procrastination and a few sedatives just to get through a simple flu shot.

Watching a thirty-seven-year-old woman sniffling with her lips quivering, wet eyes and swollen cheeks just over a simple flu shot were deemed as downright embarrassing in her eyes, even more so if it was her young coworkers doing the job.

Kylan took a deep sigh as the elevator dinged at their arrival. Most of the hospitals Kylan had visited usually had empty basements, this one was no different. The lights were the usual bright LSD types, overhanging cement walls, cold air and an aura that reeked of old death. The morgue hadn't smelt of new corpses just yet, but it soon would be. Most nurses and doctors wouldn't dare come down to investigate the spooky sounds emitting from down below past the morgue.

Which was excellent. Kylan liked to blast Britney Spears in her headphones as she worked. There didn't need to be wondering eyes investigating the autopsies. What thoughts would come in your mind if you saw a middle-aged woman singing along to Toxic while messing with a bone saw in someone's torso? She'd probably receive a lengthy letter on proper procedures again if a staff member showed up in the midst of her examination, and they'd most likely repeat the sentence of "do not have a smile on your face as you chop someone's brother in half."

She claimed she never had a smile, the victim's unsuspecting family said otherwise.

When they exited the elevator, it didn't take long for James to pop out another question, "How do you like being the state medical examiner? This time by yourself right?"

Kylan kept a grin from forming on her face. Ah yes. Dr. Kylan Taylor, chief state medical examiner, board-certified and voted to be Mercer County's one and only top forensic pathologist who specializes in the strange and unusual. Dream come true that's for sure. After her long residency and following the now-retired Dr. Shoo, she was finally ready to take her first steps alone, and her heart was pumping just thinking about it.

"Yep," she said, now a white smile glowing in the otherwise dark hallways. "I always liked to cut open bodies, working through the hospital also prevents me from having to go to the crime scenes myself now. Those interns who call themselves "death investigators" really help me out." She giggled a little, "now they'll just drop off the bodies and photos for me. Less bloody in the long run." James stifled a laugh. There was a reason why he picked to help the living. Bloody crime scenes were not something he'd be able to get past, Kylan however, didn't even seem fazed.

Kylan Taylor was a five-foot-two woman with dark auburn hair, chartreuse eyes, and exceptional beauty. Everything about her radiated, from her perfect smile, the way her messy waves framed her face, her stance, her voice hidden with a slight Spanish accent. Where someone like her got the love for the dead remained a mystery even to good, long-time friend Wilson.

"So have you starred in any other pornos since you left college?" She asked out of the blue, with a hardy laugh bellowing from the pits of her stomach. "Because I'm sure some of the nurses would like to know the gentleman Dr. Wilson is not as gentlemanly as they first predicted."

Wilson stopped dead in his tracks, and Kylan had no choice but to stop and wait for him, even though her laughter was echoing the quiet hallways, James was one step away from having an aneurysm. He seemed to be both embarrassed and angry, and on the brink of hyperventilating just by thinking about it.

Everyone had mistakes in college, Wilson just happened to have been a part of a future porno.

"You are not to tell anyone about that." he cautioned, causing Kylan to laugh even harder.

"So uptight."

"I'm warning you, I have people upstairs that will use that to their advantage, and I don't need them knowing."

Kylan's eyebrow cocked, "I thought you said everyone here was your friend?"

"They are." And with her now silent, he seemed to be on the verge of either breaking out more information or keeping it to himself. But the way she stood, her eyes squinting, her arms crossed over her chest and waiting, he had no choice. He had to explain now, or she'd find some unorthodox way of getting the information herself. Sounded awfully familiar. "Okay, some of them may not be my best friends, but there are some that like to make my life miserable."

"Miserable how?"

Wilson's beeper blew off before he said anything, and for a moment he seemed hesitant to even take it seriously.

"Listen, I have to go back upstairs, think you can settle in yourself for a minute?" He asked, "this shouldn't be very long."

"Of course."

He gestured down the hall, pointing to one of the wooden doors on the left, "go through there. Your office is right next to the main morgue, so you shouldn't have too many difficulties finding it. If you need any help you can come back upstairs and ask for me or Cuddy."

She nodded, and Wilson zipped back down the hallways and back to the elevator. For a second, she didn't move. The hospital basement was too quiet now, and the taps of her heels echoed in a way she did not like. There were chairs sitting outside doorways, for reasons unknown, and the light down the hall seemed to be flickering.

Kylan liked dead bodies, but she didn't like the idea of working in a hospital that may or may not be haunted. If she heard something move or a weird voice echoing in the night, she was going to quit. Right then and there, no questions asked. Didn't matter if they were willing to pay a few million dollars for her to stay, being haunted was not worth it.

But luckily she hadn't heard anything yet, so Kylan graciously took the time to skedaddle her way into the room.

Just as Wilson had said, her new office was hidden in the back. Warm air hit her face momentarily, and the smell of something sweet caused her to sneeze as she took a glance around. It seemed the Hospital Interior Designer didn't leave even her new office out of the budget.

Mahogany bookshelves with vases and sculptures hiding in its walls, a set of encyclopedias Kylan would never read, a desk with a high-tech computer system and neatly organized file holders, small lockers, a pretty little lamp, and just as she predicted, enough paper to fill a large forest. She couldn't believe she was right, and she smiled to herself as she slowly walked to her new desk. Glass top. Perfect.

Kylan placed the files Wilson had given her on the corner and set her purse at the side of the table leg, biting her lip with a smile. She had a new coat rack where she could hang her scarves and coats in the winter, and a hook for her lab coats when she had the time to bring them in from her old space. She'd need to get the rest of her medical supplies from her house too, and she'd be all settled in, as she had always been wanting.

It was better than her old office at the county police station that was for sure She had a desk there, and shelves just like the ones presented to her now, but much smaller, and basically the room itself was about the size of a coat closet. It would get too hot in the summers, too cold in the winter, it felt like a meat locker half the time and she had to wear some sort of winter coat and finger less gloves just to do paperwork without shivering.

This was a much better improvement.

Before Kylan could even start going through the paperwork, a strange noise in the back caused her skin to crawl with goosebumps. For a moment she had figured it to be the strong winds she had experienced in the parking lot, but another shuffling caused her logical thoughts to scurry away just as quick. Her office had giant windows showcasing the first part of the morgue, but from what she could tell no lights were on, and there was definitely no one coming from the hall. She would have heard the footsteps on the concrete floors or even the ding of the elevator. This was much different, and it caused her spine to shiver.

Kylan hesitated on going anywhere near the windows. Wilson would have mentioned something about animals sneaking in, right? Or even mention if anyone else would be wondering the morgue, cleaners, nurses, someone. But she doubted someone would even go into the main laboratory, and doing so in the dark was downright stupid. There were thousands of dollars of sharp knives, saws, needles and equipment that no ordinary person could just get their hands on, and one wrong move those things would cause some serious damage. She kept her eyes locked at the windows, waiting for something to emerge. But nothing came out it, and another loud bang caused her skin to jump right off her bones.

Against her better judgment, Kylan slowly walked forward. Waiting for a dead person to smack against the window, bloody and oozing like those horror movies her brother loved so much. But even in her wildest imagination, she had doubted something like that would ever happen, so she kept close to the wall trying to find the damn light switch to the morgue. Maybe if it was a raccoon or a rat, the light would scare them off. Give her enough time to warn staff on an infestation of rodents and they could come and clean it quick. God, even the thought of having a few rats where dead bodies would be sitting caused her stomach to churn.

Kylan fiddled with the light switch until a flood of artificial flood lamps lit the room. It seemed the first part of the morgue was clean, untouched, the tools hanging off nails and boards, steel glimmering in the light. Sinks seemed to be unused, aprons and refrigerators sat in corners, and a scale polished and ready for use on the main table. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but this was only the first part. The secondary part of the morgue was something she wasn't ready for. The place where they shoved the bodies in those metal crates screwed on the wall, where tags hung from people's blue toes and made gross noises as gas began to be let out of their orifices. But Wilson would have mentioned bodies already dressed down on the slabs. The place was brand new, cleaned just for Kylan. There was no way there were already bodies taking up space on the cold tables.

Another shuffle caused her to nerves to spike, and again, she almost wanted to follow her better instincts and run back upstairs where someone could investigate for her. Hell, as much as she knew Wilson hated ghosts and anything spooky, she would feel better if he was standing behind her in case something bad happened. What would happen if a crazed raccoon bit her on the arm? Or worse, a crazy patient who escaped from the psych ward. All those tools were nice weapons if they needed to be, and Kylan certainly didn't like the idea of someone wielding them against her.

Kylan carefully pitter-pattered to the next light switch, hoping to whoever controlled the heavens to just be a few dead bodies rotting in the cold. Her fingers slid against the chilly tile, and her fingers slid against the plastic switch, she flipped it on.

Nothing.

Not a god damn thing.

She let out a deep breath Kylan wasn't aware she had been holding. Her chest hurt now. Like her heart had just pumped enough blood and adrenaline to run a ten mile marathon. Twice. She laughed at herself on how ridiculous she had been acting. She could only imagine how Wilson would look when she'd tell him the thoughts she had over some old piping or some bullshit like that. Just as she flicked the light back off, she turned, and collided with a mass of fabric.

"Jesus Christ!" She yelled, slamming into the man who scared the crap out of her.

His aftershave permeated her nose for a second, like spice, and she staggard back, trying to put as much distance as she could between the two of them. Which wasn't much, since she had hit the back of the autopsy table, moving it an inch or two causing a loud skid to cover the heavy breathing. Her hands leaned on the sides, and she tried to not to let her nerves get the better of her.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" She finally asked the moment she could break out a few words. The room was barely lit from the other room's light, but she could definitely tell it was a man from the way his shoulders were shaped, the clothing, the smell still stuck in her nostrils. "What the fuck are you doing here in the dark?"

She seemed more surprised than angry. Sure someone was sticking their nose in her new toys, but that didn't mean she cared enough to get a little angry. Maybe a signal or a word or two could have stopped her from wanting to rip off his balls for scaring her like that. Who in their right mind just snooped around a morgue touching things that didn't belong to them?

The light flickered back on, and the bright light caused her eyes to hurt from the sudden adjustment.

The man kept silent, moving past her with a clear and visual limp. For a second she thought she might have kneed him somewhere, but the looks of a cane resting on the cabinet counter across from her, she doubted she injured him. At least, not enough to cause anything like that.

"I sometimes kept pills down here, I'm guessing someone hid them or threw them away." He finally said, and Kylan couldn't help but get a little irritated at his condescending tone.

"You kept pills in a morgue?" She spit.

"I'm sure you keep pills in cupboards too."

"Not in a morgue."

Kylan would have been freaked out on coming face-to-face with a man so suddenly, especially in the dark and in a room by herself. But she bet herself that if the time came, all she'd have to do was kick him in his bad leg and take off. No immediate amount of danger that screamed red at her, at least, from what she could tell.

He was a taller man, much older than her by ten years from the indication of his peppered hair, he seem withered in the face, wrinkles near his eyes, a much older demeanor overall in his appearance. His limp added to the age, but his clothing, loose and almost ill fitting, made Kylan second-guess herself.

"Who are you? How'd you even get access to the basement, you need a key-card." Kylan said matter-of-fact. her breathing steady finally, and now she wanted actual answers. She didn't doubt he was an actual doctor, but she would be damn well surprised if he was.

As if he thought it was a stupid question, he grabbed a plastic ID card much like hers from his jacket pocket, shoved it close to her nose, and pulled it away like three seconds staring at a white piece of glistening words would give Kylan all the information she needed. But she did get one thing.

A name.

Dr. Gregory House.

Well I'll be damned. She thought. This guy is a damn doctor.

#gregory house #house md #dr. house #dr. james wilson #james wilson #fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #tumblr

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pandawritespoorly · 4 years

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Overworked

Author’s Note: I have been up far too long for someone running on however many hours of sleep I got last night. I keep forgetting what I want to say. I'll think of something, and in the time it takes to hit a key everything is gone.

Summary: Ladybug assures Chat that she'll be fine when he has to leave for two weeks. Then everything falls apart.

Things are not going well.

Marinette is behind on all of her classes, and is this close to failing a few of them. Of course, her website chose now to gain traction, and she has a backlog of commissions like never before.

She hasn’t slept since Tuesday, and it’s Saturday. She’s running on coffee, energy drinks, sugar and basically anything caffeinated she can find. Not that it’s doing much besides keeping her conscious.

Sort of.

Once she’d started spacing out and hallucinating she’d done some research to make sure that caffeine pills didn’t have some crazy side effects she’d been previously unaware of.

Nope. She just needs to rest.

Thanks, Google, as if she didn’t already know that.

The final straw (or two straws, depending on how you count), is that Chat is gone. He’d told her that he’d be gone for two weeks. He didn’t have a choice. And had apologized a million times.

Ladybug had assured him that she’d manage. With plenty of temporary heroes, she’d have plenty of help to choose from if things reached that point. She’d told him not to worry, and to have fun on his trip.

He’d clearly still been worrying

For the first week things had been fine.

She’d had a few stressful moments, but things had been manageable. Soon enough though, Hawkmoth had caught on that she was working alone.

Without her partner.

From there things had begun to fall apart as he sent an endless barrage of akumas after her. She couldn’t even keep count due to how utterly exhausted she was.

She can’t remember how many times she’s had to come up with a fake excuse to leave for an attack. Or how many times she’d thought that a battle would be her last. Too tired and weak to fight properly.

Some fights would probably have benefitted from help, but in her loopy, feeble-minded state sometimes she forgot that help was an option.

Or she hallucinated that Chat was with her, or another teammate.

Or she couldn’t find her way around the city for the life of her.

Or- what was she saying?

Anyways, all of this has brought her here.

To another evening akuma.

An angry, violent one at that. Fantastic. Just what she wanted.

She’d stopped paying attention to their names. Their stories. Their reasoning.

It’s all just too much for her to hold onto. Keeping it simple, she’s devolved to the formula of find object, break object.

Easier said than done.

Dodging another swipe from the akuma’s arm, she feels something slam into her back. It takes a moment for her to realize that it was the guy’s other arm.

Right. People usually have two arms.

She’s sent flying into the pavement, but she doesn’t even wince at her skinned cheek. She’s too tired to properly process pain.

Shakily making her way to her feet, she scans the akuma for it’s object.

Goodness she really needs a nap.

Something slams into her chest, knocking her to the ground and along the road.

Now is not the time to go into micro-sleep. During her brain’s momentary shut down, Hawkmoth’s latest victim had lobbed some debris at her. Direct hit. Ladybug is pretty sure at least one rib is broken.

All the more reason to finish this fight quickly so she can sleep.

After her physics homework. And she might as well work on that commision while she’s up…

She feels herself being lifted, and realizes she’d been distracted again. The akuma’s arm swings back, and suddenly she’s flying. This isn’t so bad-

Ladybug slams into a wall, and before she can even process the pain from that, gravity kicks in, and she falls several meters to the ground, landing in a heap.

She hears groaning, eventually realizing it’s coming from her.

Huh, her body does kind of hurt.

She still needs to go after the akuma though.

In a moment. When her lungs don’t feel like pincushions.

The world is blurry, and her ears are ringing. She’s not quite sure what’s happening. Why is everything spinning? Is that from the akuma?

She’s pretty sure she’s hallucinating again. From the looks of it, the akuma is fighting someone else now. That’s nice. At least she can pretend her kitty is back already.

He’s mad. Why is fake Chat Noir so angry? The real Chat wouldn’t be so harsh on an akuma unless something was really wrong.

Kwami, even her hallucinations can’t go right.

At least the pretend fight is short. She doesn’t like how upset her kitty is. She hates to see him sad. Regardless, pretend-Chat has beat the akuma (is that the real akuma or a hallucination too? If so, where’s the real one?) senseless. It looks unconscious.

Lucky. She wants to be unconscious.

Pretend-Chat finds the (maybe) pretend-akumatized object and approaches her.

Wow, her brain really outdid itself, this is the most convincing hallucination she’s had yet.

“Hi, pretend-kitty,” she rattles out, fluttering her fingers at him weakly.

He frowns - why is he so worried-looking?

“Oh, Bug,” he murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“When you gonna’ leave?” This pretend-Chat seems so real, she wants to be prepared for him to go.

“Never. I’m not leaving again.” It seems like he’s looking over her, inspecting her. Goodness, even her hallucinations think she looks awful.

Not nearly as awful as she feels, but it does come close.

“Y’ gotta’. When real Chat come back, he w’dn’t wan’ me to be talkin’ to a fake still,” she whispers. She can’t manage anything louder at the moment. He’s sweet though.

“What?” His soft voice is the only thing that isn’t aggravating her headache, and she loves him so much.

“What?” Surely if she knows he’s a hallucination, then he does too.

“What do you mean I’m fake?” His voice is full of concern, and he rests a gentle hand against her face in hopes of comforting her some.

“Silly kitty, don’ you know? You a hall-oos-nation,” she stumbles out. It’s a big word.

He smiles a little, but his worry hasn’t ebbed, “Why is that?”

“‘Cause I’ve been doin’ that a lot now,” she states a-matter-of-factly.

“You have?! Ladybug-”

She weakly lifts a finger in an attempt to shush him. At least, she tries. It would seem she can’t quite feel that arm at the moment.

“Don’ worry. Google said it’sss norm’l.”

“That’s not normal.”

“Yeah, is. Sleep… deb-er-ate-on.” Another big word.

He connects the dots, “...Ladybug. When was the last time you slept?”

“Tuesday.”

His eyes grow wide, and he grabs her hand tightly, before letting go abruptly, “Sorry, that probably hurt.”

“Nah, can’t feel that arm,” she reassures him.

For some reason, he doesn’t look reassured.

“Right. Okay, let’s get this cleansed so you can go home and sleep,” he lifts the hand that holds whatever the object was.

“Can’ sleep yet. Gots’ homework, and som’ commissions.”

“Ladybug. Sleep should be your priority,” he reprimands, breaking the object and grabbing the butterfly before it can escape.

“‘ve got coffee.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he shoots back. Frowning in confusion, he hesitantly slides open her yo-yo and stuffs the akuma inside.

The yo-yo seems to accept this.

When the white butterfly goes by, she tries to shift herself to sit upright and cast her cure.

Only to slip further down as she squeezes her eyes shut against the bright lights that fill her vision. She can hear pretend-Chat’s voice from far away.

Breathing carefully, she manages to come back to herself despite the pain everywhere.

If she thought her partner looked worried before, then it was nothing compared to now.

“Don’t move,” he reminds her, “Just say the cure.”

She gulps, preparing herself, “M-miraculous Ladybug,” she breathes out, unable to muster up the ability to say it any louder.

Immediately she feels all her injuries heal. Her breathing becomes less labored. The magical beetles also seem to connect the dots in her mind that this is her real partner.

Inhaling deeply, she sits up slightly, “Hi Chat. I’m glad y’re back.”

“I am too. I don’t want to think what would have happened if my flight had been delayed, or if I hadn’t known about the attack, or-” his voice cracks as he speaks.

“‘t’s fine.”

“It’s not! LB, you’re not okay! You haven’t slept since Tuesday, and I imagine you haven’t been eating enough.”

She pauses, “There were so many akumas, Chaton. I couldn’t justify taking a bre-”

“I was keeping up on the news. He was trying to wear you out. He almost succeeded,” he interrupts, “That doesn’t change the fact that you need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine.” To emphasize her point, she makes her way to her feet, though his watchful eyes note the way she leans against the wall.

“Promise me you’ll sleep the minute you get home.”

“I’ve got hom-”

“No. Ladybug, I’m serious. You’re burning yourself out, and I’m not a good partner if I just stand by and watch.”

Her earrings begin to beep, Tikki agreeing with him, she’s sure.

She loops her yo-yo up above her, pulling herself up and forward to get home, “Bye, Chat.”

“Ladybug,” he warns. He’s probably going to follow her. She’s fine.

As soon as the thought enters her mind, her body goes limp, and she blacks out momentarily.

She comes to, maybe a minute or two later.

She’s on the roof, and Chat is holding her in his arms. When he sees her eyes open, he lets out a sigh of relief, rubbing his cheek against her happily. Then he grows serious, “Ladybug. You’re in no condition to do… anything really.” She remains silent, thinking through everything. He lets her, holding her against his chest and purring. She’s not sure if it’s to relieve his stress, or calm her.

He’s warm, sturdy, and safe. She could fall asleep right here if she let herself.

She rests against him, making up her mind.

“Take me home, kitty,” she murmurs.

“What?!”

“You heard me. Spots off.”

Before the pink flash has even faded, she’s loosened her grip on consciousness. Marinette is faintly aware of her partner standing, lifting her with him, and taking off across the rooftops.

She barely registers the sound of his boots landing on her balcony, and the quiet creak of her trapdoor. The hushed conversation between hero and Kwami.

She’s only just cognizant of the soft mattress she’s placed on, and the blankets pulled snugly around her.

When her bleary eyes catch sight of him turning away to leave though, she takes action. Gently, she grabs his tail, her fingers hardly even having the energy to properly curl around the belt. He pauses nonetheless.

“Yes?” He whispers, evidently having assumed she was asleep.

“Stay?” Her voice is heavy with exhaustion and her eyes are unfocused.

“If you want me to,” he concedes. Turning back to her, he lies next to her.

She huffs softly, Fidgeting slightly to toss the blanket over him and snuggle closer. He moves past the momentary surprise to return the hug, purring loudly.

Marinette’s eyes finally slip fully closed, staying that way for sometime. The deep sleep she enters lasts well into the next day, even when Chat has to go. She remains asleep, resting soundly, when three friends stop by to check on her.

Nino and Alya are relieved that Marinette is finally sleeping, while Adrien gazes at the sleeping girl and wonders how he didn’t notice sooner.

---

Author’s Note: I might edit these notes later, when I'm less tired. I hope you guys enjoyed!

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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kurtty-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Ocean au (Harven Dent part 2)

N/A: Oh, God this AU is almost over...how many chapters for this arc? Uhm, a few but it will be the last arc so I want to do something cool. This will be merciful short if we´re lucky.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @djinmer4 @bamfoftheundead @everykurt @muninandhugin

The study office is makeshift at best with tons of files lined up in a column and with some old books-with a jaded cover and carefully placed in the highest shelf the eyes can see- as the central piece of this room is taken by a table and chair, and of course, one well-built man writing on his notebook furiously and oblivious for what happens outside the world. And this man is Kurt Ryder, one of the famous reporters and TV hosts ever lived-he doesn´t speak about himself like that, but, in another shelf, there´re many awards he wins in his long career to warrant a smug expression when people interact with Kurt or mention his profession- and tonight, the man is working on a case.

"So, in all things considered..." Kurt read what he wrote and frown at this and shakes his head. "All things consider? No...not bombastic enough, how about, without a shadow of a doubt...oh, much better, without a shadow of a doubt, The Drakes have connections to the case of Margalia Bonbon. Justice or revenge by the riches? Good intentions justify a crime" Kurt nods in approval as he saves his notes and stretches his body.

"Oh, I got spoilers from your next show" a new voice with a fake accent breathes in his ear and Ryder is quick to turn and see Columbina a few inches away from him- she has that smile of hers that no one knows the difference if she´s planning something or if she´s just teasing you- and like all good citizen of New Gotham knows when you see a frak in a mask you don´t aggravate the situation. You act as if is another day...because it is.

Ryder flashes a smile at Columbina. What a coincidence, he was thinking about her. And speaks as if it is no big deal. "Guess you got spoilers, so, what are you up now? Kitty´s apartment is on the other of the hall" Ryder waits for her reaction.

"I killed her!" Columbina has a fake insane grin and Ryder knows a thing or two about acting and insanity.

"Oh really, after or before you make love with her...wait, I thought you had killed her last week..." he trails off and waits to see what Columbina will say. Anticipation is a vice Ryder knows how to keep at the bay and again, Ryder is an excellent actor if he wants to be.

"Fine, I revive her ...but, I´m not here to talk about my relationship with Kitty, by the way, she´s great, you should know that by now" Columbina speaks innocently enough. Ryder only nods and says he´s going out with Kitty. "So, could you stop killing Kitty? I´d not mind the sex thing, but, you know...I don´t like to imagine Kitty hurt in any way" Ryder adds not missing a beat of her expression.

Surprised? Does Columbina truly have an affection for Kitty but is one-side? Did Ryder win against the notorious thief of New Gotham? That´s exciting and it does make his heartbreak slightly for Columbina.

Now, once he rose from his chair and crosses his arm-an imitation of Nightcreeper as Columbina knows him too well, too well if he can say so- and asks. "What my favorite thief is doing in my humble abode?"

Columbina is not impressed. "Humble abode? Right..." and she looks at the so-called humble abode bemused. Yet, she´s not here to speak about fake modesty. "You know, in the past weeks the fanfic community has been going crazy with Kokina" she makes a face after saying this name that makes Ryder grins and Columbina shot him a look. "and in some of the fics, there´s a tag. ''Columbina is a Sacar" and interesting because this is a term only Kokoro knows. I´m not making those fanfictions...and there´s one author who likes to write those strange and insane stories" she looks deadpan at him.

"Me? How...I have no idea what a sacar is!" Kurt pretends, very well, to not know the word and be extremely confused and hurt by the accusation.

"Kitty knows too and she told you...and you write fanfictions to troll people" Columbina narrows her eyes looking completely distressed.

"Well, if Kitty wants me to stop she can say so..." Ryder begins and tries a new approach. "But if it bothers you, I can stop and bother someone else. OK?" and so far, it seems Columbina accepts that. Well, she accepted as she saw Ryder deleting some of his works in the fanfiction community.

"Since you´re here. Why do you like this so-called creeper so much? He´s not real and well...I´m curious" Ryder begins nonchalant and Columbina hummed for a minute.

"He has a really big dick and is a crazy dick" and Ryder´s iron wall broke and he laughs at that. Then, he composed himself and only nods saying if she truly believes this.

And her eyes peering through his own. "You´re handsome, I mean, for this profession you got to be, but...is the first time I ever notice your hair..." Columbina speaks amused. "I like your voice and I like how you went after the truth. I don´t like how you can be an ass sometimes..." she steps away and grins. "Do you like dangerous things?" her tone is sultry is a bit similar to Kitty from that date.

Kurt gulps as in any normal circumstance he would love to flirt or even sleep with a pretty lady-and really, who wouldn´t want to sleep with Columbina?-but the man steps back and speaks in a serious tone. "I used to love it when I was younger, but, now...I think I prefer less dangerous things...if anything I can do something with Kitty and I would enjoy it better" and Ryder´s eyes widen as he was worried Columbina would be upset.

"Was bad at flirting or are you that into Kitty?" this is a question that took him by surprise.

"I think a pretty woman with boob windows like you don´t need the perfect pick up line, but, yes...I´m that into Kitty" and Columbina nods changing the subject.

"Listen, Ryder, I´m not here to flirt with you or to talk about your questionable taste in fanfictions...I want to know more about Harvey Dent´s last cases" and adds. "Can you help me Mr. Noisy Reporter?"

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

On the next day, Ryder tells Kitty-doing his best to ignore the cat who is looking so fixated at him- about Columbina visiting his apartment and how nothing happens. "Look, I know I have this image of ...uhm, manslut, but, nothing happens...I swear"

"I believe in you" she states with a smile. And Ryder is taken back by this. She believes in him? This is a concept totally new and alien to him.

"She went to my house to talk about Harvey Dent´s last cases"

"Of course she would, you´re Mr. Noisy Reporter...right?"

Ryder frown at this for a moment. And asks without missing a beat. "Hey, Kitty, what do you think of Nightcreeper?"

"Big dick, crazy dick"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Dark Claw is on his computer searching for the last cases of Harvey Dent- KingPin has many enemies and those enemies were persecuted by Harvey Dent- and Sparrow mentioned another case of an enemy of KingPin was murder even in the solitary period in the prison.

"He was supposed to be there for 3 months, however, uhm...he´s pretty much dead...the security footage shows someone entering in the cellar, but, there´s no security guard named Bob" Sparrow summarize what she found out.

"Magneto is still arrested and blabbing about his missing daughter" Dark Claw has mercy for the man even if Magneto committed many crimes. He can understand wanting a family, but, he can´t condemn his past actions. "And while slowly comes to term with reality...is not one to go after KingPin, they have no business and no reason to fight"

"A crooked cop?" Sparrow speaks as if it is the most obvious solution and Dark Claw considers this.

"Could be the case, but, if is a crooked cop...why he would kill other cops who have felonies on their files? Shouldn´t he want to cover for his brothers in blue? No, I think we´re dealing with a vigilant...but, what he wants and who is he..." Dark Claw trails off.

"Better call, Ryder!"

"Oh no!"

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

"Hello, Kitty Cat" an insane voice draws Kitty´s attention to the light pole on her right and she sees Nightcreeper in all his naked glory. Kitty pouts at the nickname but didn´t run away. "Hello, Creepy" she speaks and chuckles as his green face contorted into confusion as his brain is trying to recall the times Columbina called him like that.

"Is dangerous to walk around at the night...what if a lunatic tries to hurt you?" his grin is back on his face.

"Well, I have you to protect, don´t I?"

"You bet it"

And Kitty smiles and then snaps. "Hey, Creepy could you return this to Ryder for me?" she hands him Ryder´s wallet. Nightcreeper is too insane to care. "Columbina took and I want to return his wallet"

On the next day, Ryder goes to his wallet and notices his credit cards and money is there-no single cent was taken from him, yet, his eyes spot a piece of paper - and there´s a piece of paper with one message. "you really thought I would take your money? Ryder, please... Don´t be creepy"

And Kurt Ryder is speechless.

#ocean au #kurt ryder #kitty pryde #kurtty #trolling #Harvey Dent has no power here but is evil and cunning #Dark Claw #Sparrow

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thesnapewecandreamof · 5 years

Text

Potions and Curses

- Potions is a very sensitive subject. He wasn’t lying about it being an exact art and a subtle science. Not needing one’s wand though; that’s another matter. It wasn’t that he lied, more like withheld the truth for first years have no use for those kinds of potions.

- Much like how the material of the cauldron is crucial, so does the...state of it’s brewer.

- It appeared to him as he was experimenting in a private lab in his quarters. There was a portrait of an older man calling to him just after he finished cleaning up. The portrait appeared out of nowhere and Severus drew his wand in case it was a trap but the grumpy portrait snarked at him to get going. Naturally Severus snarked back and was on his way to alert the Headmaster when his door was locked.

- Now truly curious he began to listen to the portrait and discovered that the portrait revealed to be a door to another lab, it was three times bigger than his own private lab. Severus kept his wand on him as he explored, mysterious ingredients inside jars lined the walls and he smiled at it in fascination. There were markings on the floor, runes it appears but they looked different to the ones they teach now. There were cauldrons on the far wall, one was big enough to fit himself and he was thinking up ways to use it when the voice spoke up again.

- “Stop oggling and fix your eyes on the floor.” Severus would not. But then he realized the portrait had another meaning, he eyed the runes on the floor one again and found an area where the runes almost looked as if they formed a circle. “What is this place?”

- “The labs of the Potions Master, of course.” The portrait replied and Severus frowned, “And who is the Potions Master in question?”

- “Salazar Slytherin.”

- And thus Severus listened as the portrait explained that Slytherin doubled as Potions Master and Healer sometimes during the days of the founders. He and Hufflepuff cured whatever ailed the students together. Severus watched as the portrait paused in its speech at some points as if recalling stories Severus was not privy to.

- When Severus asked about the runes, the portrait explained that it was some safety measure in case the resident potion master was ‘experimenting’ and had an accident. This was said with a smirk Severus would very much like put a pain thinner to.

- But there was something else. “What about that?” He indicated to the portion of the floor that seemed a bit too empty to have been deliberate, there were still traces of candle wax and chalk upon it and it felt like...something Severus couldn’t quite make out.

- “You’re a clever potions master. What do you think it is?”

- “It almost feels like it’s for some ritual...involving blood.” The ministry have classified all blood magic as dark.

- “Ah yes, you do have a history in entangling yourself with the Dark arts aren’t you. I rather believe we have differing opinions on what constitutes as “dark” however.” The portrait said and Severus felt like those eyes could pierce his soul. Does he dare risk temptaion once again and-

- “This is for healing silly boy! What could possibly be dark in that?”

- It was a trick question. Healing has it’s dark properties, as does any other spells. “Sacrifice.” It finally clicked. The Dark Arts would always come with a price. But what sort of sacrifice does this place require of him?

- Severus grilled the portrait, scandalised at the thought the students could possibly be getting sacrificed for a potion! But the portrait knocked some sense into him, “Foolish boy, it sin’t the students getting sacrificed as you put it, they are the ones who receive the potion.”

- “The brewer they-”

- “What do you know of the Unforgiveables?”

- “They land you a one-way trip to Azkaban.” Severus growled, “Will you just get on the point?”

- “Grumpy, grumpy,” The portrait said, almost looking fond and Severus wanted to throw it in a fire. “Read about them in one of the books here, you’ll find it I’m sure.” The portrait walked out of his portrait and Severus spent half an hour looking at the titles and left the lab with six books and two scrolls. The portrait was still blank when he exited and would no longer open without it’s occupant.

- About a week later the voice called him over again.”There was a debate, weather the Unforgiveables were invented by healers.” Severus said as the portrait granted him entry.

- “Never found the answer to that myself, and hello to you to foolish boy.”

- “You could have just told me that yourself instead of assigning me homework.”

- The portrait scoffed, “I highly doubt you’d have believed me. I have it on good authority that you’ve done your research, scanned the restricted section haven’t you?”

- “How do you know that?”

-”I’m a portrait, it’s my job to know things, it gets terribly boring without the gossip.” The portrait continued to prattle on, “Healers weren’t just healers back in the day. They were the highest of the wizards for what they do is no ordinary feat. Some believe that the very first wizards and witches were healers and I’d be set to believe them. There was an Order of them and they dealt with all things hat could malign a person be it spells or potions. Some patients are harder to treat some believe.”

- Severus listened aptly as the portrait said its piece, “Scholars have believed that the Killing Curse was created by the healers and they were the only ones allowed to cast it.”

- “Euthanasia.” Severus muttered and the portrait nodded. It was quite chilling, the image of a healer casting it on their patient. But if you were in so much pain already and there was nothing else to be done-

- “Do no harm, because of this oath there are debates on the legitimacy of this theory but I suppose there are people who hold themselves far above the moral high ground and never deign to look down on reality, but moving on, the Imperio--”

- “That can’t possibly be something a healer thought about, What could possibly justify holding someones free will and making it your own--”

- “Calm yourself boy, remember, they weren’t labelled the unforgiveables back then and they weren’t necessarily grouped together so to speak. But you’ve read the book, haven’t you, I see by your expression that you did not enjoy it but,” The portrait paused as if in thought. “When the person is on the brink and you need time to figure out what to do, would you not give anything to make that person somewhat lucid, somewhat capable of going on despite them wanting to just jump off?” The portrait asked and Severus noted how his tone seemed to change, as if he was lost in thought. “I’’m not saying it’s right, but is it so wrong? Just food for thought, that isn’t what we have to discuss.”

- Severus felt a chill in him, “The cruciatus? How-” But it made sense somehow. A person still needed magic to brew potions. And blood is often an ingredient in most dark potions but how could it possibly-- “Sacrfice?” Severus asked and he was filled with fascination once again.

- “Indeed. A healer is bound to help their patients no matter the cost even to themselves. The pain of the cruciatus is unlike any, and taking it on to save someone-”

- “The blood of a person who’s had cruciatus cast upon them?” Severus whispered, it seemed far too odd to be true and yet-

- “Indeed lad, it truly is sacrifice. The blood must be willingly given after all, you know how magic can sense intent. It proves that you are sincere, that you are desperate and so it boosts the healing properties of select potions.”

- “How many-” Severus couldn’t even finsih his sentence. How many rounds? for how long?

- The portrait smiled at him with a hint of sadness, “No one is quite sure.”

- “Why have you shown me this, why now?”

- “You are a fine potions master, the best in all the years. Since the days of the founders only around a dozen have entered this place, I assure you the previous one was a couple centuries ebfore you.”

- “Does the Headmaster-”

- “Dumbledore does not know this exist, it is your choice if you wish to inform him though I caution you against it. He’s a bit...too light to accept this sort of magic.” Severus nodded. Does this betray Albus’ trust in him? He has promised to never delve back in his dark interest but...maybe with a few restrictions in place he might not stray too far.

- “Who are you?” He asked, wanting to escape other thoughts, tempting thoughts.

- “Have you forgotten your manners? You should have asked that a week ago?”

- “Would you have answered me?”

- “Of course not. But I am no other than Godric Gryffindor.” The portrait smield at his shocked expression, “I take it you were expecting someone more surly like say, Salazar?”

- “He was the potions master.” Severus said dumbly.His brain felt like it blew a fuse.

- “There are many things people don’t know about the founders. The others may greet you some day, no doubt. they’re rather looking forward to finding more ‘worthy’ professors.”

-”But why-” Why Godric, if Salazar could not do it then why not Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff-

- “We often get lost in false self-image, so what better else to find someone so much like you, who embodies your values, than your best friend?”

The portrait winked at him before walking away from his frame. Severus spent the night in the lab lost in thought before shaking his head and gathered more books to read, there would be more time for questions later after all.

Ancient magic was powerful after all and they need all the weapons they can have when the Dark Lord rises once more.

I’ve been thinking about this for awhile now and I might use it for a fic later, feel free to form your own hcs and fics on this tho, if ever you know of a fic or an hc along this line please let me know, I’d love to read it!

#severus snape #potions #hc #i cant get this out of my mind #pro snape

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