#and now im just left to count down the days until we get an adaptation

[alohastyles-x]

Faith In You- Four

Faith In You | Sequel to Loyal To Me

Summary: How long can a grudge truly last? Your return to earth leaves you emotionally confused as you reconnect with your fellow Eternals. As the Emergence comes, you discover who you truly are, what your true purpose is in the universe. Can you handle it?| Druig x fem!eternals! reader

Notes: I apologize this took so long, but I hope the length makes up for it <3 | Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Character death, brief mentions of suicide | Movie Inaccuracies cuz im low-key tired of going back and rewatching scenes 7 times to get it perfectly right :(

Druig Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

The air in the temple was tense as everyone eyed each other cautiously. The last time everyone in the room was together-- with the exception of Makkari and Ajak- they were discussing what to do with your body that laid limp on the marble slab next to Thena’s. Now you’re here, your heart beating, your blood racing through your veins. 

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, as you and Druig stared each other down. His gaze was still harsh, convinced you had left him in the dark on purpose. You just stared blankly, unsure how to feel. You were numb, yet angry. Angry at Druig for what he did to your people, angry at Druig for the way he wouldn’t even listen to you. 

“Druig…” Sersi finally said, just bareilly above a whisper. When Druig didn’t answer, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want to say his name again, fearing she’d only fuel the fire that was raging silently in the room right now. 

“Well, what are ya waiting for,” Druig snapped, impatiently. 

“Ajak… she’s… she’s dead. The Deviants are back, only it's just one, and it's able to adapt to our powers. We think it took Ajak’s healing ability before killing her.”

A beat passed before Druig finally responded, tearing his gaze away from you. 

“You’ve given me a lot of bad news in one go, me lady. First, the once love of my life returns, alive, with the ones who betrayed her, and now this news about a Deviant able to evolutionize in seconds…” You grimaced at the word ‘once’. Was that really how he felt?

“Will you help us?” Sersi asked, her voice full of hope. Druig stood from where he was leaning on the table in the front, and began pacing around. 

“Do you remember this forest? It was the last place we were all together- dead or alive,” he looked at you, his words full of venom. “I have protected these people for 20 generations. From both, the outside world and from themselves.” He was now standing before Kingo and Karun, smirking as he stared down Karun. 

“Your kind will be responsible for your own destruction one day. Don’t ya think?” Druig asked, trying to bait him. 

“I think we must learn from our mistakes, so we can do better,” Karun answered, his voice echoing off the temple walls. He wasn’t scared. He should have been. This angered Druig. His eyes glowed that golden color of cosmic powers and in the next moment, Karun was throwing his camera against the wall. 

“Oh no you didn’t. Okay, new rule, no possessing people’s valets,” Kingo said, standing up and moving directly in front of Druig. 

“Where is your sense of humor, Kingo?”

“You are not a god, you know that right?” Kingo sneered, not backing down. 

“How ironic… Kingo, the movie sta-” 

“Druig! Enough,” you shouted, trying to stop this before it turned into a pissing contest between the two. The sound of your voice stopped him dead in his tracks, turning to face you again. He slowly moved until he was now in front of you, trying his best to be intimidating. You held your breath as his scent filled your nose.

“Don’t talk to me,” his voice was low, and cold. It brought tears to your eyes, which he noticed, but you straightened up. 

“This is serious, Druig.” Sersi said firmly. “ I was waiting until I had everyone together, but I have enough of you now I think I can just tell you…” she said. She told them of what happened when she discovered Ajak’s body. Of the things Arishem told her, the fact that they were never here to protect the humans, only to aid in the existence of the emergence. 

“So, Druig, please. All of you… we have to figure this out.” She finished, looking to everyone, but especially to Druig. He was the one that could make or break this mission- his power was especially useful. 

“I’ve just been told that I’ve been sent on a suicide mission for the last seven thousand years,” he paused and turned to you, “and that most of that existence has been a lie. So excuse me for not giving a fuck about your plan at the moment,” he finished, turning and heading out of the temple. 

“Druig fucking sucks,” Kingo said. You just looked at him, before turning to leave as well.

You went out of the temple in search of Druig- you had to sort this out. A building next to the temple caught your eye. In the window was a vase of dragonsnaps and another of Marigolds- the flowers that were etched into your headpiece. When you looked around, you didn’t notice a vase in any of the other windows, so you made your way up to the door. 

Slowly opening it, you halted at the threshold. It opened into a living room, adorned in all of your favorite colors and all the things the villagers had made you over the centuries. The entire hut was a temple dedicated to you. When you moved further in, you noticed a bedroom in the back corner. As you moved closer , you eyed something draped over the bed. It was the hand woven blanket that one of the village moms had made you. It brought a tear to your eye, knowing that Druig still had all of this to remember you. 

“What are you doing here?” Druig asked, making you jump. You hadn’t heard him come in. His voice was laced with venom still. 

“Druig, stop, please,” you whispered. “Stop the hostility. You haven’t even given me a chance to explain myself-” 

“Well go on then!” Druig interrupted, yelling at you. You closed your mouth, completely over the way he was treating you. 

“Stop yelling at me!” You responded back. “Gods, Druig, this is madness! Why are you so rude!”

“Why? Why am I rude? I don’t know, y/n, why do you think?! I watched you die, and here you are-”

“Yea! Here I am! You should be happy to see I’m alive, that I’m here!”

“Yea, only after a couple THOUSAND YEARS!” Druig scoffed. He was in your face now, absolutely livid that you couldn’t understand why he was upset. 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Face.” You sneered back. He wasn’t expecting your voice to be laced with as much venom as he had in his. It made him stumble back a few steps. You pushed past him and headed to the door. 

“Y/N- wait,” his voice was shaking. 

He was about to say more, but a familiar growl interrupted him. It rumbled through the woods, vibrating the windows next to you. 

“Oh no,” you whispered, flinging the door open, and booking it down to the middle of the grounds, where Sersi, Sprite, Kingo and Ikaris were standing. 

“Did you hear that?” You asked. They nodded, preparing to fight whatever was heading towards them. Druig was following behind you, taking his stance next to your side– just like before. You tried to act like you didn’t notice. Thena and Gilgamesh were missing, but otherwise, everyone was there… waiting. 

The trees ahead of you shook, and you knelt down to feel the vibrations running through the ground. 

“It’s getting closer. Druig, you need to get everyone out of here.” You said, motioning to the helpless humans aimlessly working, not noticing the sounds in the distance. 

“They can fight,” Druig responded. He lifted his arm, his eyes going golden. Suddenly, the villagers stopped what they were doing, and picked up the nearest shotgun to them. Druig had them line up, ready to attack. 

“Are you serious Druig?! Get them out of here!” You shouted. “This is unbelievable,” you whispered under your breath as he just shook his head. 

Suddenly, a screech echoed through the woods, and a Deviant with wings flew down, snatching Ikaris by the shoulders. Sersi yelled out, but you knew he could handle his own. You turned, anticipating where the next one would come. 

“I thought you said there was only one?” Druig asked.

“There was only one… until now,” you said. This changed Druigs tone tremendously. 

“Everyone! To the river, now!” He yelled to the villagers, who took their guns and ran. Druig snatched one from one of them, cocking it and aiming it towards the woods. 

A small Deviant came from the side, but with one blast of lightning, you cut it down. Druig was shocked, but not surprised. Clearly you had worked on your control. Another small Deviant came out from the left, and Druig claimed this one, shooting at it twice before running up its back and shooting it in the head. 

You hated to admit how hot it was to see him with a gun, his muscles flexed in the sleeveless sweater he wore. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted though. Kingo and Sprite took on two more Deviants that came out.  

There was an electrical charge in the air. You sensed it. Something bigger was coming, something stronger… the One from before. As you let the Eternals take on the smaller ones, you decided to muster all of the elements you could- something Loki taught you to do. 

Reaching your arms out to the east and west, you lifted your head to the north, and stood on your tiptoes for your toes to face the south. Muttering a chant under your breath, you began to levitate, the golden cosmic energy swirling around you. Druig was the first to notice, as he dropped a Deviant he just killed. 

“Woah,” he whispered. This caught everyone else’s attention. No one knew you could do this. 

In your head you pictured the elements rising. Rocks began to levitate off the ground, sticks and water droplets as well. They all rose to be level with you, before moving to point into an arrow directly in front of you. Flashes began to play in your head of the leader of the Deviants. You saw a name written out: Kro, and then you saw it. It  was just about to be at the edge of the woods. You manipulated the elements to form a long stick, sharp enough at the end to penetrate its skin, and then you waited. Just as it made its way to the clearing of the woods, you sent a gust of wind with it. It pierced it right in the chest, but it wasn’t enough. 

While you were still levitating, you summoned a lightning storm. Your eyes glowed golden as the golden cosmic energy flowed around you still. Lightning began to strike from the sky, setting the trees on fire next to it, causing them to fall on it. As that happened, Kingo blasted it with his energy bolts, and Ikaris returned, beaming it as well from higher up. 

Only this wasn’t enough either. The power wasn’t just penetrating Kro, it was flowing through him. He was adapting your powers. A vision flashed in your mind of lightning being sent your way and you ducked. It struck the workshop behind you. 

Kro cut its connection with you, and sent a large stone hurling your way. It struck you, and you fell to the ground with a scream. 

It was the same scream Druig heard every night in his dreams. Rushing to your side, he moved the stone off of you. 

“Y/n, oh god, no,” he whispered, seeing blood pool under your clothes on your chest. PTSD began to bubble up. It was in these same woods he lost you once, and now he was going to lose you again. Your chest was sunken in from the stone, and he could see the color drain from your face. 

“Elixir… pocket…” you breathed out. Druig reached into the pocket of your pants and pulled out a shiny, dark green vile. He popped it open, and held it to your lips. Within seconds your chest rose to its natural place, no longer dented from the large stone. 

“What… what was that?” Druig asked, as he helped you sit up.

“A healing elixir that Loki helped me make.” 

Druig pulled you tightly into a hug, the fear of almost losing you again was too much for him to continue holding his grudge. It no longer mattered to him why you weren’t here all these years. You were here now, and that’s what mattered more to him. Your heart was beating, and he could hear it. You were alive. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His voice broke; he was crying. You hugged him back tighter. 

“I hate to interrupt this moment- but we could really use your help here!” Kingo shouted, making the two of you pull away from each other. Druig was still in shock, he sat back watching the events unfold in front of him.  Sersi had just come to from being knocked out. Kingo and Sprite were shoved off into a building, and Ikaris was now being held down by the Deviants hand. Kro was gone. 

Sersi got up, and went after the Deviant holding Ikaris down. It got off of Ikaris, and went after Sersi, pushing her into the water of the walled pool that stood in the center. WIthin the next second, water droplets splashed up from the water and  a tree made from Deviant flesh stood in the middle, limbs sprouting in all different directions. The water then fell, drenching everyone.

“How did you do that?” Ikaris asked, but before Sersi could answer, their attention was drawn to you. You were levitating again, attempting to find Kro. He was further in the woods with Gilgamesh and Thena. 

“Gilgamesh. Woods. Now!” You shouted. Without questioning it, everyone took off to help Gilgamesh fight off Kro. 

The woods were dark as you moved through them. It was eerie familiar, and you had to push down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside. As if Druig could sense your discomfort with being in these woods again, he reached out and softly grabbed your hand. All felt right in the world again to have him by your side. 

But that all got tossed to the side when you heard a scream up ahead. It was Gilgamesh. The two of you broke out in a run, catching up to where the others were. You gasped at the sight before you. 

Kro had struck Gilgamesh down, and fled after realizing their true purpose on earth with the emergence. It turns out Arishem left everyone in the dark. 

Gilgamesh lay lifeless on the forest floor, gaping wounds glittering in the faint moon light. He had sacrificed himself to save the love of his life. 

“No…” Thena whispered, as she processed what she just saw. She kneeled next to Gilgamesh, resting her head on his chest. 

“Right when we lose Ajak too…” Ikaris whispered to Sersi. You shot him a glare, still suspicious of him. 

“Wait, y/n, what about the elixir?” Druig asked, a little too loudly. Everyone’s heads snapped to you. 

“I… I only had one on me. I could try and make it real fast, but I don’t know how long after… you know, death it works…” you trailed off, hurt that you didn’t think to snag 2. 

“No, it’s okay. Gilgamesh was a natural man, he wouldn’t have wanted to be brought back after death.” Thena responded callously, before breaking down into tears.  

An all too familiar feeling ran through Druig. These woods were cursed to him and, now, to Thena. The place she once took someone's life, she now lost her love. The parallel was gut-wrenchingly obvious to everyone in the circle they now made around Thena and Gilgamesh. No one said anything while Thena sobbed over him. 

The feelings of deja vu became too much for Druig, as he stood watching his fellow eternal mourn the one they loved dearly. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away. 

Not now, you mouthed. You didn’t want to rub in Thena’s face that you came back, when Gilgamesh never will. Druig tensed up. He needed your comfort right now. 

“We need to hold a funeral,” Thena spoke up suddenly. 

“Of course,” Sersi whispered. “Shall we do it at the lake again?” 

“That would be nice,” Thena answered. 

Everyone dispersed to grab materials for the pyre to build. Druig went to grab an accelerant, while Ikaris and Sprite went to cut some wood. Kingo and Sersi went to find some leaves to twine the wood together, before Druig pointed out that they had some rope in a warehouse. 

“We’re not that uncivilized,” Druig smirked. 

You decided to hang back with Thena. While the rift between the two of you wasn’t fixed, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her side. You knelt next to her, and placed your hands on the dirt floor. 

“Do you know if he had a favorite flower… or plant?” You whispered. Thena gave you a confused look until she saw your hands. 

“Wolfsbane was a favorite of his, along with lilies,” she finally answered. She watched carefully as your hands began to glow. Patches of wolfsbane and lilies began to shoot up through the dirt. 

“Do you think that is enough, or should we make some more?” 

Thena’s face softened at your kindness. She appreciated the use of ‘we’ as if she was honestly helping you magically grow flowers from the ground. Especially with the tension between the two of you. 

“I think we should do some more,” you answered, and began to make more. But you were stopped by Thena’s hand on top of yours. 

“Thank you.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Anything you could think of seemed lacking given the grave circumstances. Instead, you offered her a warm smile. 

After everything was prepared, Ikaris, Druig and Kingo helped carry Gilgamesh down to the pyre, setting him on top before lighting it. The wooden planks were decorated with the flowers you grew, and the leaves Sersi and Kingo gathered before Druig showed them the rope. 

Nothing but the roar of the fire filled the night sky. Thena held her head up high. Even when sad and mourning, she still looked effortlessly graceful; you envied her for it. As Gilgamesh’s body burned, Ikaris and Kingo pushed the pyre into the water, watching respectfully as it floated down the river. 

You placed a comforting hand on Thena’s shoulder, before turning and heading back up the hill. You wanted to give her her space before his body disappeared around the curve. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, besides Druig. He hung back with Thena, the memories too consuming to leave her alone. 

“How did you move on, after y/n’s death?” You heard Thena ask. You hung back behind a tree to listen for his answer. 

“I’m not sure. Clearly, I didn't do very well. I enslaved the people she loved to keep her memory alive. I don’t recommend that though,” Druig snickered, turning to face Thena. 

“I just didn’t let my love for her die. I kept it ignited all these years. It was hard, sure. Some days I thought about endin’ it all, in this river actually, to join her back home. But I couldn’t leave these people leader-less, so I stayed. Now I’m glad I did, but I know that this fortune won’t come to everyone.” Druig answered. Thena’s face softened as she took in his answer. 

“How do you think I could keep his love alive?” Thena asked, genuinely. She was lost on what to do.

“Just by being the Thena he loved.” His answer brought a tear to her eye. She nodded her head, and he swung an arm around her shoulder. 

“You’re gonna be alright, Thena. You’re gonna be just fine,” Druig comforted. She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled. She was grateful for the kindness he was showing her. 

| ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ |

taglist:  @notbeforelong @heliosphere8​ @measure-in-pain​ @aoibhinnslater04​ @beepitybeepboop​ @tanyaherondale @boofy1998 @hardwoodfloorgay @ruleroftides @justanotherkpopstanlol @fandom-lover-4 @saintlewis @nctma15 @totallynotkaibiased @pinkangelavenue @niiight-dreamerrrr @atlaese @shadowfoxey @secretsthathauntus @nightingale2124 @asgardwinter @fluffyprettykitty @dracoxxyoflam @itsmadamehydra @poetrieshouse @coacaiyne @gabicalicota

Taglist is off, please follow @alohastyles-xlibrary for fic updates | After this, I won't be tagging people, please turn on post notifs or follow library blog, I'm only tagging people in this part bc it took me too long to write this one :')

#druig x fem!reader #druig x you #druig x eternal!reader #druig imagines #druig fic #druig eternals #druig fanfic #druig angst #druig smut #druig fluff #<33333 #alohastylesx #marvel #alohastylesx works #eternals #eternals fanfic #eternals fic #druig x reader #mcu

[dracowars]

Hii! So i have seen that your request is currently open! Also that you are kind of new here (i guess? Idrk)! I was wondering if i could request one? The story goes like draco pulls a prank on y/n (any kind really its up to you!) then later on showers her with his love (gift too because we all know he got the ✨ money money ✨ so thats it! (Its very fluffy im sorry) i hope you can do it totally alright if you cant tho!! I hope to see more of your works! God Bless💗

fun and games | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where draco takes pranking y/n too far

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! <3 since this is my first ever request i'm a little bit nervous >.< i really hope that you like it and that it lives up to your expectations! i feel honored that you trusted me with your request even though i'm still pretty new on here ♡

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

You can't remember when it started, you only know that it did and that it slowly starts to annoy the hell out of you. Not because you don't understand fun, you really do, but you can't even spend a quiet minute with your boyfriend Draco anymore since he started acting like Fred and George Weasley, always pulling a prank on you with every possibility he got.

Some of those were actually funny and made you laugh, but at some point it just got too much. Every time you are with him now, you expect something to happen. Whether it is that he calls you to him to show you fantastic beasts that do not exist, making you look like a fool while he laughs, or that he hides two of your belongings somewhere around Hogwarts, telling you that it is actually three objects that you then have to search for like crazy. He even gave you Veritaserum once, just to ask you an endless number of questions which you inevitably had to answer. All of that you already went through. But today was somewhat different.

Draco did not pull a prank on you for weeks now, which you can not complain about at all, in fact you are quite happy about it. After his last prank you asked him to finally stop and it seems like he listened to you. Still, something feels very weird.

You haven't seen Draco today, which is rather unusual for you and your relationship because neither of you can last longer than a few hours without the other. You have just come out of your Defense Against the Dark Arts class and look around the hallway, expecting to spot him somewhere, while your classmates walk past you to head to their break. Usually, Draco always picks you up after class so that you can spend time together until your next course. But you don't see him anywhere today.

At the end of the hallway you spot Fred and George trying to sell one of their newest and greatest inventions to a first-year. You shake your head and roll your eyes. These two are probably responsible that your boyfriend had his prank phase, even though he absolutely despises every Weasley. Of course Draco would never admit it, but you think that he copied a lot from them.

"Leave the poor child alone, Weasley's", you tell them while passing them, not wanting to wait longer for Draco to pick you up. Regrettably you shouldn't have opened your mouth because all of a sudden they apparate in front of you out of nowhere, making you flinch and taking a step back. "What, Y/N? Did I hear you correctly?", George says, wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. "You really want to test our new creation?", Fred adds with a smile.

"No, thank you. I've had enough of pranks lately", you assure them with a forced smile. Obviously offended by your statement, the red haired twins cross their arms over their chest, giving you a disapproving look before vanishing again. Shaking your head, you make your way to your common room, hoping to meet Draco on the way there. Unfortunately, that does not happen and you slowly start to have a bad feeling. Where is he?

Once you arrive in the dungeons, you say the password and enter the common room, which is cosy warm in contrast to the cold corridors outside. After all, it's winter; what else should you expect from the temperature? Several Slytherin's buzz around, sitting at the green fire or studying at the tables. But still, no sign of Draco.

You spot Crabbe and Goyle on one of the sofas, who have their eyes focused on you. As soon as they realize that you look back at them, they burst into giggles and look away as if nothing happened. Their weird behavior lets you frown in confusion. Before you can confront them about it, Pansy suddenly appears right in front of you and thus into your field of vision.

"Y/N! We want to go down to the lake in a few minutes. It's frozen solid for the first time this year! Do you want to join us?", she offers, her outfit already perfectly adapted to the cold temperature outside. "Do you know where Draco is?", you blurt out, not answering to her question at all. "No? Why would I?", Pansy responds irritated.

You loudly breathe out. "Nevermind. Enjoy your trip to the lake", you wish her and give her a small smile, then walk past her and towards your room in the girls' dormitories. You don't miss the look that Crabbe and Goyle give you as well as their giggles when you make your way out of the big room though.

While walking your gaze falls on something laying on the ground and you immediately stop in your tracks abruptly. You bend down and pick it up in amazement, a now much bigger smile forming on your lips. In your delicate hand you're now holding a rose petal. Looking in front of you, you notice more rose petals on the floor. They seem to show you the way to your room.

It must have been Draco, he definetely wants to surprise you after a stressful day, you are sure about that. Quickly and with unbelievable enthusiasm you follow the path to your closed door. You imagine how you will open the door and come into your room, there will be a romantic atmosphere with warm candlelight and Draco will lovingly greet you, hug you and kiss you until-

SPLASH

You have just opened the door when suddenly a huge mass of cold water falls down on you, completely soaking you from head to toe. Because of the shock and the sudden coldness surrounding you, you gasp for air. In front of you, you do not see your desired romantic atmosphere or any candles, but only your laughing boyfriend.

"I got you again!", Draco rejoices and praises himself while you can only watch him in shock. You look down at yourself and lift one of your feet out of the puddle beneath you which you are now standing in. Water drips from your hair and your uniform to the floor. Your boyfriend's cheeky laugh echoes in your ears. Slowly your whole body begins to tremble, although you are not sure wheather it comes from the cold water or from the anger boiling up inside of you.

Assuming that you find the successful prank as funny as he does, he keeps laughing, not noticing your anger yet. "Fred and George did the same prank with Weaselbee the other day, so I had to try it out as well. It worked! Crabbe and Goyle helped me set it up and-"

"I hate you so much!", you scream at him angrily, no longer able to keep your anger under control. Draco's expression falls immediately, obviously not expecting this kind of a reaction. You are still stiffly standing under the door frame, stretching your arms away from your body to somehow escape the extreme cold, water still running down, even under your clothes. "Why do you never know when it's time to stop?! I thought you wanted to surprise me!"

A little taken aback, Draco slowly approaches you while you are busy with wringing out your wet hair. "Don't you dare touch me now, Draco Malfoy!", you command and he obeys your words, stopping a few inches in front of you. "Love, it was just supposed to be fun..", he mumbles dejected, insecurely rocking back and forth on his feet, slowly realizing his mistake.

"Yeah, of course. For you it's always all fun and games until someone dies!", you angrily rebuke him. "I'm completely wet, I'm damned cold, as if it wasn't already cold enough outside, and all I wanted is to spend a relaxing and nice afternoon with my boyfriend who, as always, only got nonsense in his mind and not thinks about his girlfriend's feelings!", you complain, getting rid of your wet cloak while bumping into him with your shoulder as you walk past, throwing it onto your bed. You sit down next to it on the soft mattress and take off your soaking wet shoes as well. For a few minutes there is nothing but silence between you two.

"Y/N..", Draco breaks the silence, but you just shoot him a scathing glance, your lower lip now trembling from the coldness surrounding your body. "I don't want to hear anything, Draco. Really", you scoff and roll your eyes, standing up to finally get out of your uncomfortable clothes. "Can you leave, please? I want to change", you ask him reproachfully, but he doesn't move a single bit.

"I'm responsible for this so let me help you, okay? I'm sorry", he says, sincerity in his sad voice. You can't even answer him as he already pulls out his wand and casts a spell you don't recognize. The puddles on the floor disappear and your clothes are suddenly dry again. All that is left is the unbearable cold around you. Freezing, you draw your cloak tighter around you and give Draco a very small but thankful smile.

He looks at you thoughfully before spreading his arms to invite you into a warm hug, which you gladly accept. Even though you're mad at him, he still manages to make you soften again. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist and he gently strokes your back with one hand in hopes to warm you up at least a little bit, then places a gentle kiss of the top of your head and hugs you even tighter, pulling you closer to his much warmer body. He can clearly feel your body tremble against his. "I'm really sorry, love. I hope you can forgive me for my stupid behavior..", he breathes into your ear, loosening your arms around his waist to take your ice-cold hands in his.

He closely examines your face, searching for any hint of what your answer could be like. No longer able to resist his pleading stare and shimmering gray eyes, you slowly nod to assure him that you will forgive him. Of course you will; you love him way too much to let something this silly destroy your relationship. More than happy with your answer, he cups your cheeks between his hands, his silver ring coldy pressing against your skin, and gives you a loving kiss.

"I will make up for it, I promise", he speaks against your lips after you broke the kiss, his thumb caressing your lower lip softly. "As long as you stop those stupid pranks, idiot", you roll your eyes, still feeling a tiny bit upset about the incident. A little chuckle escapes his lips and he pulls you close against him again. "Let's warm you up first, hm?", Draco whispers and before you know it he has apparated both of you back into the common room. Because everyone left to go to the lake you're now completely alone in the big room.

Without your consent, Draco pulls you onto one of the couches near the fireplace so you can warm up. With the help of a spell, he increases the flame a little more. Out of nowhere he throws you a fluffy, thick blanket and wraps you in it, your body now slowly but surely heating up.

While you're still busy making yourself comfortable, Draco extinguishes all the lights in the room except for a few candles, which dip the quiet room into a soothing light, creating a relaxing atmosphere for you two.

"Are you feeling warmer already? Do you need something else? What about a hot chocolate?", he questions you, still feeling extremly horrible for what he made you go through. "A hot chocolate sounds very nice, actually", you accept his offer, deciding to take advantage of the situation, innocently smiling at him. It does not even take him one single second and he suddenly vanishes into thin air. Shaking your head but smiling to yourself you watch the flame in the fireplace while you wait for him to return.

To your amazement, it takes him a lot longer than you expected and that just for a simple hot chocolate. After about a quarter of an hour he pops up again in front of you all of a sudden, two steaming cups in his hands. He serves you your hot drink with a cheeky smile on his face. "As requested: one perfectly hot chocolate, but not nearly as hot as you", he winks at you before making himself comfortable next to you.

"What took you so long?", you ask and take a sip, skillfully ignoring his statement. "Had to.. run a few more errands, you know. I'm a very busy man", he smirks at you, holding the, in his hands much smaller looking, cup. You look at him in disbelief and then discover a few white spots on his uniform that make you raise your eyebrows in confusion. "It's snowing outside?", you question and point to the snowflakes on his cloak that are slowly melting in the warm room. "Care to explain why you were outside?"

"Uh, well.. I just wanted to please my lovely girlfriend", he explains and takes something out of his pockets. You immediately know what it is and sit up excitedly, but before you can grab it, you pull your hand back. "That's not another one of your pranks, is it?", you pout and look in his eyes for an answer, any sign that this really is just normal candy from Honeydukes and not some experiments he bought from Fred and George.

"Come on, Y/N! They are not poisoned. Eat now or I froze myself to death out there for nothing", Draco assures you and you decide to trust him, carefully opening the candy, revealing the actually normal, delicious sweets that you love so much. Happily eating them you don't even notice at first how Draco keeps staring at you, one of his fingers nervously tapping the rim of his cup.

"Y/N?", Draco finally clears his throat, sitting up straight while you look at him with big expectant eyes. The way he pronounces your name, how the letters roll of his tongue create goosebumps all over your skin, causing you to cuddle up more into the cozy blanket, waiting for him to continue. His gaze wanders back and forth between you and his warm drink, of which he has not drunk very much yet.

He opens his mouth to say something again but notices the goosebumps on your arm, the alarm bells in his head loudly going off immediately. "Are you still cold? Wait a second!", Draco tells you, without waiting for an answer, and jumps up, running to his prefect room and coming back a few seconds later to give you one of his green Slytherin sweaters. "Here. Put it on, it will warm you up", he commands and examines you carefully as you pull it over your head, the pleasant scent of his perfume clouding your senses instantly.

Your cheeks turn a little bit red, on the one hand because of the extreme warmth that now surrounds you and on the other hand because Draco gives you such a sweet and tender look, as if you are the most beautiful and precious being in this world; which, in fact, you definetely are to him. He moves closer to you and puts his arm around your shoulders so that you can lean against his chest and snuggle up to him. Draco gently runs his fingers over your hair, over your cheeks and to your chin, which he slightly lifts up, making you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for a while, you just look each other deep in the eyes. Draco brushes one strand of hair behind your ear that fell into your face and slowly leans in. You close your eyes, waiting for him to connect your lips, but he teasingly stops shortly before, his breath fanning against your skin. "I have something for you.. as an apology", he gently whispers and you open your eyes in surprise. "You don't have to give me anything, Draco. I've already forgiven you, you know that", you smile at him, cupping one of his cheeks which makes him smile.

He takes your hand in his and squeezes it lightly, kisses your knuckles and then shakes his head with a sigh. "I know. Still, I feel bad and want to give you something. Something very meaningful and significant", he declares, reaching into his pocket once again. Eventually, his secrecy makes you kind of curious anyway and you look at his hand eagerly, waiting to see what the gift will be.

Draco pulls out a small black box covered in velvet. Your curious gaze focuses on the box, which contents are still unknown to you until he finally opens it and reveals a beautiful, gold shimmering and, above all, quite expensive looking necklace. Small moons and stars hang on it, but the real focus of the indescribably lovely piece of jewelry is in the middle. The bigger splendid pendant attached to it is none other than his name, Draco, written in an artistic curved font. Overwhelmed, your mouth drops open.

"Actually, I wanted to give it to you for our anniversary this year, as a thanks for sticking around with me for so long, no matter how stupid and silly and annoying I was. Somehow it just felt like the right moment to give it to you now", Draco explains in a calm voice, no sight of the silly boy from a few hours ago, and takes the necklace out of its box, gesturing that you should turn around so he can carefully place it around your neck. He leaves a few butterfly kisses along your neck before you turn around to him again, immediately touching the pendant with your fingertips, slightly pressing it against your soft skin.

"I thought I would give you my first name as long as I can't give you my last", Draco smiles timidly, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye as you pull him into a tight embrace. "D-Draco.. I don't know what to say.. I love you so much", you sob into his neck, placing a kiss right there. His arms wrap around you and he breathes out contentedly and somewhat relieved. "I was afraid that you would reject me..", he whispers nearly inaudible, more to himself than to you.

"I would never even think about rejecting you! But do you really promise that you will make it come true, Draco? That you will give me the honor to receive your last name?", you ask seriously, retreating a bit so you are able to look at his handsome face. A smile creeps its way onto his lips at your so serious but also hopeful facial expression. "I don't want anything more in my life than that, darling", Draco clarifies honestly and then takes the pendant with his name on it between his thumb and index finger. "This is a promise", he repeats softly and gives you a quick but loving kiss.

Despite the short kiss, you feel a pleasant warmth inside of you and the butterflies flutter around in your stomach. You put your hands around his neck and can't help but grin brightly, trying to hide it by biting down on your lower lip. Immediately, Draco's thumb comes up to your lip and stops you from doing so, looking back and forth between your shiny eyes and plump lips.

The next kiss you share is so passionate and with so much love that you forget everything around you in a matter of seconds, fading out your surroundings. Now, there is only you and Draco. And a promise that you hold close to your heart.

#draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco x female reader #draco x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #hp imagine #hp imagines

[passable-talent]

listen,, im just in the mood for stih!reader. not followed-anakin-to-the-dark reader,,, just straight-up sith, subscribed to the sith, bloodlustful, power-hungry reader x anakin. whether they were a sith before him or a knight pulled to the dark at the same time but separate from him is up to you, but i just want some sexy evil reader <3

two things. one- in planning this one i came up with possibly my most interesting canon ret-con ever. 

two- sorry about the lack of this in the past, with all of my darkfics i just always end up trying to make the reader redeemable or in some ways well-meaning so that it doesnt alienate my,,, readers,,, but as you wish!

that said, i havent gotten to really indulge my absolutely sadistic side in a while and it was uhhhh fun

There was a prophecy to the Jedi, long ago, that one young Jedi would bring balance to the Force. 

And to the Sith was a prophecy that there would be a Dyad in the Force, one whose power would give rise to the power of the Sith.

Sheev Palpatine, tasked with finding an apprentice more powerful than he, who could possibly be within the Dyad, went through many apprentices in very quick succession, each destroyed by the Jedi before they could gain true power. There was only one apprentice who escaped the Jedi unscathed- a young former scrapper from a planet so unexceptional it didn’t even have a name. 

You had struggled from the moment you could walk. You had built yourself up, with no help, no guidance. From a difficult child to a violent teenager, you fashioned yourself weapons, taught yourself to fight. When others tried to lay claim to what you owned, you cut them down. 

So naturally, when he discovered you, Darth Sidious gave you a lightsaber. 

With your skill in mundane weapons came an adaptability into the divine, and you were quickly nearly as skilled with a light saber as his last three apprentices, combined. He believed that your innate skill and exorbitant midi-chlorian count meant that you must be one half of the prophesized Dyad, and with the formation of a Force bond, he could do what his master had not, and become the other half. He just needed to build your power. 

Each time he praised you, the hole in your soul grew larger, wanting more, needing it. You had come from nothing- so now, you wanted everything. You wanted to be the most skilled. You wanted to be the most powerful. You wanted to be the strongest and the fastest and the best.

So imagine your anger when you came across a little Jedi padawan who you could not defeat. 

Anakin Skywalker was the golden boy of the Jedi, and it had gone to his head. He was nineteen, and already more skilled than his master, and most of the masters on the council. Of course he would try to kill a Sith apprentice, when one crossed his path.

Imagine, two young prodigies, on opposite sides of a millennia-long war, each convinced that nothing could stand in their way. Imagine no one winning the battle, and both going home unscathed.

Imagine how it would drive them mad. 

Darth Sidious could not be seen without risking his discovery, so you often did what he needed. You wouldn’t complain- each successful mission would ease your hunger for victory and power, if only for a moment. You were cunning, and only unleashed your brutality when it was necessary, but Anakin- Anakin had the key to the cage that held your rage, and he opened it every time you saw him. 

His master, the other Jedi, those you would dispose of easily, not caring enough to kill them, just doing enough to get them out of your way, so that you could face him. Every time you failed to kill him, you got angrier, until you felt nothing but rage when you saw him. How dare he challenge your supremacy, your skill. How dare he live and breathe, proof that you weren’t unbeatable. 

In the dark side of the Force, with this conflict came uncertainty- no matter how Palpatine promised that his blood-soaked and rage-filled apprentice was the most skilled in the galaxy, he began to doubt. He began to wonder if Anakin was truly the apprentice he’d been seeking. 

In the light side of the Force, Master Yoda began to understand what Anakin’s prophecy had truly meant- Anakin was meant to be the light’s balance to the dark that you carried in your heart. 

Against the numbers of the Jedi, you were at a disadvantage, but you weren’t concerned with odds, not when you were the most talented Sith that had ever lived. All you felt that you lacked was the wisdom of the Sith who had come before you, and so you often meditated, trying to reach them. Darth Plagueis in particular guided your mind many a night. 

But something was off about your meditation, this day. You couldn’t reach your grandmaster, and a sick, disjointed sensation rolled in waves through your skin. Breaking your concentration, you opened your eyes.

And seated in front of you was Anakin Skywalker. 

“You-” you snarled, immediately calling your saber to your hand. He held his hand up, though, and something about the motion made you pause. 

“I’m not really here,” he said, then looked around. “Can you see where I am? I can’t see where you are.” You narrowed your eyes, suspicious and still angry, but now curious. You slid from your meditative sit and onto your knees, slinking toward him on your hands before reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

“You mean you didn’t reach out to me?” You asked, tilting your head, expression still distrustful.

“No, I thought you called to me.” You locked your eyes with his, reaching forward with the Force to feel him, his presence. He seemed to feel you doing so, but did not resist, and in fact did the same. Reaching deep into his heart, you found a surprising spot of cold- and latched onto it, holding it, unlocking its secrets. This, you could use.

“You don’t trust the Jedi,” you said, a smirk curling on your lips. His eyes widened briefly, which made you realize just how correct you were. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he was so skilled- if it could be used in service of the dark. 

“The Jedi stifle me,” he conceded, and from your connection you’d forged into his soul you felt a spark of fire, that so-familiar rage. This time, the emotion wasn’t yours, but his. 

“The Sith will not,” you promised, and sat back down, much closer to him now. 

“The Sith must be destroyed,” he snarled, and you were in your element now, you were finally in control. After all this time, you were winning a victory against Anakin Skywalker.

“Why? We seek to bring order. I seek my fullest potential. Isn’t that what you’re doing? What the Jedi aren’t letting you do?”

“Shut up,” he groaned, looking away, and so you leaned closer, lifting your chin, beginning to smile. 

“We’ve fought in the past, Anakin,” you breathed, “But I promise you this- I would help you the way no Jedi would think to.” 

You felt it when his entire presence in the Force sparked, and then disappeared. It seemed that he’d grown too distracted to keep your connection. 

Speaking of that- how could you have had such a connection? 

Sure, you’d felt his presence in the Force before, but only when you fought, when your souls clashed as brightly as your sabers. This was new, very new, and in all your teachings you had heard of nothing like it. 

Nothing- nothing but a Dyad. The Dyad. 

Sidious was right, in everything he had ever told you- you were of the Dyad, you were the Sith meant to experience power like none before you had, you were the one the prophecies had spoken of. But Palpatine wasn’t the other half, the way that the Rule of Two would’ve expected it- the other half of the Dyad was instead a young Jedi.

Master Yoda felt a disturbance in the Force as you realized it- as your dark hunger pulsed out of your body, satisfaction with knowing that it was all true making you feel powerful. The destiny you had been promised, you now knew for certain, was rightfully yours. 

You only had two problems, both easy to fix. The first- your Dyad partner needed to join the Sith. Only then would you be fully unstoppable, only then would no one be able to stand in your way. 

And the Second? Anakin becoming a Sith would violate the Rule of Two. Meaning that there would be three Sith where there was only room for two.

So you needed to be rid of Sidious. Such was a plan for another day. 

The Clone Wars were a Sith’s playground- Sidious’ extraneous apprentices, Dooku and Ventress, took care of most of the messy battles. Fighting clones, negotiating with the Trade Federation, such things were beneath you. Your specialty, your joy, was in the destruction of the Jedi. Every single Jedi death in the Clone Wars was at your hand. 

And though you clashed with Anakin, the roles had been reversed- now twenty-two and sure of your destiny, you fought not to kill Anakin, but to show him the power of the dark, the power you wielded. He fought the way you had as a teenager, full of rage and murderous intent. Tortured as his missions were by you, he could not escape you in meditation, nor in sleep. You walked his dreams, making him wake with not anger but want, something that he hid from everyone, even his master. In his meditation you would appear before him, promising things that he only believed because they left your mouth. 

“Anakin Skywalker is at his most powerful when he’s at my side.”

No Jedi sensed the rising darkness in Anakin Skywalker, just as you expected. Jedi are incapable of seeing past what they believe. They know that the Sith have returned, and still are blind to the power of the Dark!

The Sith, though... the Sith sensed his power. You sensed it, of course, reaching into his soul any time you could, grooming and nurturing the darkness he’d begun to share. And Sidious felt it, too. 

So he took an interest in Anakin Skywalker. 

He grew closer to Anakin through their mutual friendship with Senator Amidala. Palpatine promised Anakin balance, salvation from the worries he carried with him. 

And he began to pull away from you, which certainly did not sit well. You were the most powerful Sith in generations, more powerful than even him, and he dared think you could be replaced? Not only he thought you could be replaced, but he dared set up such a replacement as though you wouldn’t notice?

No. 

You were stronger than that. Smarter. There was three where there should be two, and if your counterpart in the Force was meant to bring balance, weren’t you meant to, as well?

So you took advantage of the age and weakness of Palpatine’s body. You poisoned him, slowly, deteriorating him, so that all that kept him alive was the Force, and he had no strength of his own. 

And then you told him everything. 

“An apprentice, when they are no longer fit for the teachings of the Sith, is replaced,” you said, your scarlet saber humming, its life and energy filling your body, like it had a thousand times. “Which is why you have grown interested in Anakin Skywalker. I have learned from you, my master, I see through your deception. You wish him to take my place.” 

Your darkness invaded your smile, an emptiness invading your stomach that the deaths of dozens of Jedi had yet to fill.

“He will,” you promised, “He will be one of the most amazing Sith there has ever been. And he will fulfill the prophecy of the Dyad, just as you suspect.” 

Sidious didn’t even have the time to ask how you knew before you buried three feet of plasma in his body. 

You didn’t remove the saber, just let it rise and fall with the laboured breathing of an old man. 

“Without your help, Sidious,” you snarled, “I have pulled Anakin Skywalker to the Dark Side. I have found the Dyad, the one spoken of in prophecy- I have felt it pull he and I together. And without your help, I will purge the Jedi from the galaxy.” You ripped the saber from his body, separating his chest from his stomach.

As Palpatine breathed his last breath, you had an unexpected visitor- a few of them, actually. Masters Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, Saesee Tiin, and Mace Windu each entered Palpatine’s office, sabers ignited and prepared for a duel with a Sith Master. 

But they didn’t expect it to be the one that now stood before them. 

Master Mace Windu knew of you- knew of the Sith apprentice who had a hunger for power so strong that it was meant to outgrow their master. He knew that you had killed countless Jedi, and would kill countless more, if given the chance. So he wasted no time in changing his intentions for the evening. 

“In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic,” Windu said, igniting his saber, “You’re under arrest.” Your lightsaber still humming with the blood it had taken, you turned to him over your shoulder, canine tooth glinting from underneath a disturbing smile. 

“And what are the charges?” you asked, calm as though you could predict the exact outcome of the match. “I’ve just killed your Sith Lord. Surely that must count for something.” 

You focused the Force within you, sending it to the one person who you needed the most- and you showed him the way that four Jedi looked at you, threatened you.

“The Senate will decide your fate,” Windu threatened, and you tilted your head. 

“The Senate just lost their chancellor,” you said with a small laugh, “I don’t believe they’ll be deciding anything for a while.” 

It was all too easy to destroy them. Fisto, Kolar, Tiin, they were no challenge. Neither was Windu, but you needed him to believe he was gaining the upper hand- for Anakin was back on Coruscant, hurrying to your location, seeing through your eyes the way that Windu meant to murder you. 

Feigning weakness, you opened your chest, which Windu rewarded with a strong kick, and you fell to your back, little groans and whimpers of fear leaving you as you scrambled backwards, and you could feel it, you could feel the way Anakin was running toward you, feel his desperation to protect you, even if he tried to disguise it with democracy. 

“You are under arrest,” Windu hissed, his saber pointed to your nose. 

And then, there- the man whose presence you had once loathed, and now craved. Anakin was here, with those lovely blue eyes, that curly hair, that body that deserved to rule the galaxy by your side. 

“Anakin,” you said, chest rising and falling in panicked breaths, “Anakin, I killed Palpatine, I- I’m trying to help, I’m trying to help you!”

“You killed him to take his place,” Windu said, and your eyes narrowed. “But you have lost.” You reached out as though to call your saber back to you, but didn’t actually use the Force- which made it seem as though Windu overpowered you when he grabbed your throat and lifted you from the floor. Letting your body hang limp, you clawed at your throat, breathing ragged, and this- this was your chance. 

You turned your gaze to him.

“Anakin,” you breathed, desperation, love, in your eyes. “Anakin, please...” He’d heard you say that word before, sounding just the same, in dreams of soft touches and tangled sheets. He’d seen the way you looked at him, when he met you on the battlegrounds, and you seemed to enjoy his skill. All too familiar was the curve of your neck, the flex of your muscles, as you fought against a grip on your throat.

“Please, Anakin,” you whispered, “I love you.” 

“They are a traitor, Anakin!” Windu snarled, arm extended toward you. “Don’t listen!” You weren’t choking, not quite, but blood was being cut off, and you were starting to get woozy. You pushed the feeling through your bond to Anakin, proving to him how desperate the situation was becoming. 

“Please,” you said, mouth gaping for a moment as you struggled to breathe, eyes briefly rolling back in your head. “Don’t let him kill me.” Windu dropped you, and you crashed to the floor, coughing and sputtering, letting them both believe your limbs were too tired to hold you up. 

“I am going to end this,” Windu said, conviction in his tone, “Once and for all.” 

“You can’t,” Anakin said, and dark satisfaction pulsed deep in your chest. With those two words, you knew how this day would end. “They must stand trial.” 

“They are a Sith Lord! They're too dangerous to be left alive!” Curled up on your side, you didn’t look dangerous- you looked pitiful, coughing to regain your breath, tears rolling down your face. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you sobbed, and in Anakin’s heart you felt resolve- you knew he wouldn’t let you die. 

“It’s not the Jedi way!” Anakin said, “They must live!” You raised your eyes to Windu’s, and saw no remorse in them.

“Please, no-” you whimpered.

“I need them!” Anakin shouted, but Windu lifted his saber anyway. Anakin reacted in an instant, igniting his saber and slashing it through Windu’s arm, the distinctive purple saber now lost to the window and the streets of Coruscant below. 

You smiled.

In an instant you flipped onto your hands, swiping Windu’s legs out from under him, and he could do nothing to stop his fall. Anakin fell to his knees, shocked, and ashamed of what he’d done. 

“Anakin!” you said, rushing toward him, and finally, finally you could feel what you had in dreams, what you’d longed to- you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. “Anakin, you saved me.” He hugged you back, slowly, and there was nothing else to compare to this. 

You had been prophesized to be the Jedi and Sith who would bring balance and rule, and finally, after all this time, you were together. Not on the opposite sides of a battle, not in a connection, not in a dream, but in reality, in each other’s arms. 

Together, you were more powerful than any Jedi or any Sith had ever been. You could feel it already. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, pulling away far enough to brush back his hair, but his eyes were heavy with sorrow and regret. “Ani, love, look at me-” His gaze met yours, and nothing else in the universe had ever been so beautiful. 

“I love you,” you promised again, and pressed your lips to his. The Force itself seemed to rejoice in you finally meeting, and now, all that was left to do was to ensure he stayed by your side. 

“Finally, we’re on the same side,” you breathed, and you felt the way he bristled. 

“The Jedi won’t see it that way.”

“The Jedi don’t understand- and they’re traitors, anyway, plotting to destroy the Republic, all this time. We have to rebuild the Jedi Order. We can make things the way we want them to be.” Anakin seemed to consider, so you pulled yourself closer to him, holding him just the way you remembered, in all those dreams you’d shared. 

“We don’t have to run away anymore,” he said, and you cupped his face. 

“No,” you said, “We don’t have to hide.” 

“The Jedi turned against me,” Anakin said, his voice low, and you felt that darkness in his body grow. 

“I know, love,” you breathed, brushing back his hair. “But I’m here. I’m still here.” Anakin leaned forward, holding you close by your lower back and kissed you, and you felt it- you felt hunger in his body, you tasted it on his lips. He rocked forward, laying you down on your back, even as you kept your arms around his neck. 

And as you surrendered control, you almost had to laugh- he had no idea how much power you had over him. 

-🦌 Roe

part 2 | part 3

#anakin x sith reader #anakin skywalker x sith reader #reader insert #angst #imagines #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #poor anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #sith!reader #star wars #Star Wars episode iii #star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith #star wars prequels #episode iii #fics

[kpopchangedme]

Nocturna: Part IV

The fragile peace between undead and lycanth is imperilled your arrival to the Inferorum Castrum. Between the changing power dynamics of the wolf pack and the insatiable urges of the vampire king, you aren’t exactly sure where your loyalty lies.

Protagonists: Bang Chan & You (Im Jaebeom)

Word Count: 5.4k

Genre: NSFW | Supernatural!au | Vampires | Werewolves | Angst | Romance | Love Triangle

Nocturna Masterlist | HALLOWEEN

“G-Gran?” You are so weak you can’t distinguish anything when the old woman runs a cold cloth on your brows.

“Shhh…” She whispers softly. She used to do the same every night you’d have a nightmare after your parents died. “You need to sleep, love.” Feverish, you shiver, and a droplet of water runs down your cheek, burning. It comes again and again. Through the haze, you realize you’re crying and she’s wiping all of your tears one by one, patiently. 

“I had…” Your throat tightens and you let out a whine. “... A-Another nightmare.” Your shoulders jolt overcame with sobs. She pulls you into her arms, hiding you. You cry until you can’t anymore, cry until you fall dead asleep. 

___

You wake up in a bedroom that’s unfamiliar but far more reassuring than the last one. The sun is shining brightly through the three large windows. There’s a fresh breeze coming through, making sheer cream curtains dance beautifully. You have no idea where you are but you are at peace. You’ve cried and slept a lot, then cried some more. Now you are empty, done, dry. 

At least, you are not in pain anymore, it’s a lot better. You sit up to stretch, making the sheets fall from you. Oops, apparently you’re totally naked.

“Good morning,” Chan greets and you jump, startled. Covering yourself a second too late, you locate your friend on the floor. He’s simply sitting there unphased, back pressed to the mattress. “How are you feeling, better?”

“W-What are you doing here?” Clutching to the sheets, you bring both of your knees under your chin to protect the little dignity you have left. 

“This is my bed, y\n.” He smiles faintly, looking away just to stop making you uncomfortable. Were his canines always this sharp, or are you only just noticing now? "The Inferorum Castrum is my home."

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“Guarding you. You’ve been sick for days, but the fever finally broke a few hours ago. You drank too much blood...” His face briefly twists in disgust.  “You must have a lot of questions.” That’s the understatement of the year, you wait for him to go on, but the young hunter doesn’t explain what you’re doing in his bed, naked.

Instead, he stands, crossing the room to casually open a drawer of his dresser. After he finds what he’s looking for, he hands you a black shirt. It’s one of his own, the ones you’ve always seen him in. When he notices you don’t react, Chan hesitates before turning his back so you can dress properly. You wonder if he’s the one who undressed you too. That’s embarrassing, especially if he is to trust and had to spend days nursing you back to health.

“Your First Full Moon is in two weeks. Thankfully, you still have time to familiarise yourself with… Things.” Chan pauses, and you keep your eyes glued to the back of his silver curls to make sure he isn’t peeking as you put his shirt on. As expected, it’s so large on you you’re basically buried under. “That’s… Why I did it that day, so you could have a short period of adaptation.” 

“For what?” He sneaks a glance over his shoulder making sure you are decent. You have absolutely no idea what he's talking about. “When can I go home, Chan?”

Sadness crosses his face for a second, it’s brief, but it's enough to tell you something is deeply wrong.  “I think you should eat first.” He sizes you up and down, walking towards the door. “You’ve lost too much weight fighting vampire venom.” 

“I’m not eating anything!” When you snap, his hand pauses above the knob, in suspense. “Not until you explain everything that happened to me... ” Stopping, you inhale sharply, remembering the details of the giant wolf attack, the pain and the fear. The young man observes from the other side of the room, expression carefully wiped out. “Chan, were you in the Forbidden Forest?” 

Sighing, he steps closer, only changing his mind when he sees you straighten anxiously. “What do you remember from that day?” He looks particularly disheartened, adding; “... And that night.” 

“I went on a hunt alone, as I normally do. On the outskirts and I was attacked by a wolf. I was dying but Jaebeom saved m-”

“Saved you?” Chan immediately interrupts defensive, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Trust me. That wolf wasn’t going to kill you.”

“Trust you?” He bears your accusatory glare like a pro. “What do you know about that beast?”

Please, say it was all a bad dream.

“I do know,” he almost looks mad now, “and I think you do too...”

“You attacked me.” So it was true, Chan is the silver wolf. If your glare could kill, he would be bleeding out on the floor by now. “You’re a monster.”

“A lycanth,” his jaw clenches, “we are shapeshifters.”

Hybrid freaks. That’s how Jaebeom referred to them. “Half-human, half-wolf,” you guess aloud. 

“No, not me... Y-” Chan's mouth remains ajar, but no other sound comes out. Then, he shuts both of his eyes like he swallowed something bad. “Some of us, like me, are born from werewolves mates within the pack. We legacies are rarer now. Lycanth were almost extinct after the war.”

“What war?”

“The Amaranthine Slaughter.” His mouth opens again, then closes. “That’s not important now. You are either born a lycanth, or you… become one... With the bite of an Alpha. You met Jackson, he is our pack's current one. Our highest authority, even parasites have to listen to-”

“But you are the one who bit me...” You don’t like where this is going, not at all. You know Chan like the back of your hand, know when to panic. He's clearly stalling, holding back something important.

“Yes... But I'm from an ancient lineage of Alphas...” He concedes, and you’re pretty sure he’s full-on blushing. “You are my first marking.”

“You… You weren’t killing me…” The room spins, you feel like throwing up.

“I turned you, into one of us.”

The fatality of his words hasn’t hit you yet. “Why me?”

“Hum, I don’t know where to start. I wasn’t expecting...” Chan chuckles clearly flustered, he runs a hand over his face. “The first time I saw you, I-”

“Am I a monster? Just like that!” Ok, now you’re panicking. “A hybrid freak?”

Chan blinks, taken aback and disenchanted, as you stand up. In a second he’s between you and the door, hands raised to try and appease you. He looks more hurt by your lack of interest in his story than your choice of words. “No no, y/n! It’s fine, everything’s going to be alright...”

“I need to see Gran!” He doesn’t budge when you duck under his arm to pull at the knob without success. It’s locked. He has locked you in his bedroom! 

“You’ll be able to visit her soon, after your first transformation.” Chan sounds strained. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know if you just calm down...”

Calm down?

When you stare at him, terrified, he tries to reach for you but you shrink away. This is not a discussion you want to have. Chan isn’t the human orphan you befriended. He’s nothing like the funny hunter you grew to care for and thought you knew. He’s a wolf, and he’s a liar. A cheat that totally freaks out when he reads the fear he now inspires you.

Chan doesn’t wait for you to calm down and clear your thoughts. That's what his experienced brothers and sisters recommended, the ones that already chose a mate. Instead, he makes the mistake of telling you everything. Even if you clearly are not ready.

Everything about what happened in the forest, him, the pack’s history, and this place; Inferorum Castrum.

___

It's only been a week, but you’re allowed outside the walls of the castle during the day, on your own. Well, almost. Even if you can’t see him, he is never quite far. Apparently, he's unable to leave you alone... At first, you were furious at everyone, and you cried a lot. When you were introduced, you refused to talk to the rest of the pack. Now, you are still lost, but you decided only the main culprit deserved your hatred; Chan. He’s the one who ruined your life, your human one.

You still wonder why Jackson agreed of you to join his pack, of all women from nearby villagers. What makes you special that they picked you, that Chan wanted you? Sure, you two had been close for years, but you never got that vibe from him. He never gave anything away, never hinted he might like to spend… You know... The rest of his few centuries of life with you! 

At least there’s freedom in your near future. As soon as you'll master shapeshifting, you’ll be free to go anywhere during the day. Provided that you abide by the Castrum court’s many rules, of course. There’s still a lot you don’t know about, but you’re getting around.

Aimlessly walking into the gardens, you try to work on your new sharper senses, you’re supposed to use your next days to train. You try to focus on the buzzing of a bee’ wings or the smell of one particular flower like Youngjae recommended. He’s one of your new brothers. He explained everything would be easier but even more intense after your first Full Moon; your first night out with the rest of the wolves.

The bright Delta has been the most useful and nice to you, especially since you avoid your ‘mate’ at all costs. You don’t even know where Chan is sleeping these days, you kicked him out of the bedroom and he hasn't come back since. If that psychopath thinks you are going to become his actual partner after what he did... He’s even crazier than you first thought.

Craving the cover of the shadows, you enter the large cedar maze you’ve grown familiar with. If you walk to its center, there’s a bench hidden behind rose bushes. You discovered it the first time you were allowed outside. It’s been your favourite place to nap and think ever since no one disturbs you there. There’s not much to do around at the Castrum except eat, sleep, or get to know everyone by playing games. You don’t feel like doing any of those things today. Tugging a branch to slip behind one of the red rose bushes, you accidentally sting yourself with a torn. Yelping from the pain and surprise, you bring the cut finger to the level of your eyes. Instantly, blood pearls and you stare at the crimson tear, lost in your thoughts.

Blood.

You haven’t had much time to wonder about the vampire that brought you to Inferorum Castrum in the first place. Jaebeom. No one except Chan, not even Youngjae or Jackson, has mentioned your first night here. Still, you’re well aware the whole pack knows what went down... They all heard. Knowing what you do know about this place now, it’s a small miracle the confrontation in the hall didn’t escalate to a full-on fight.

There is a lot of tension within the Castrum. Lycanth and vampires are apparently natural enemies who used to be at war, it lasted over a millennial. An infernal bloodbath known as the Amaranthine Slaughter. Both sides were so busy killing off each other, that they didn’t care about the casualties and destruction they were leaving in their midst. Not until humanity had enough and sought revenge. After two centuries of war, all three species were almost completely wiped out. It became clear they needed to stop killing each other to remain.

The Amaranthine Peace was signed between supernatural beings in the hopes of ending the massacre. Werewolves were the most vulnerable since they used to openly live together in human villages. That’s why the treaty included a special term; Vampires were to coexist with them, waiting for humans’ fugacious nature to forget about their legend. Every Vampire Court welcomed a pack within its castle, usually remote and well hidden from mortals. Thus the Inferorum Castrum became one of those sanctuaries. Jaebeom offered hospitality to his lifelong enemies, the Bang pack, to set an example. 

Vampires may be eternal, but lycanth aren’t, they only live three or four times longer than humans do. So, Chan wasn’t born during the war, but his grandfather was the Alpha who signed the peace treaty. In fact, out of all the rare legacies of your new pack, only Jackson was a pup during the war. It doesn’t keep younger wolves from openly hating the cold-ones though... And the aversion is quite mutual, If there's one thing Jaebeom was clear about with you, it’s that he hates werewolves, treaty or not. 

Since the Amaranthine Peace, life at the Castrum has been fragile and precious. Alphas and noble vampires have been working together to maintain it at all costs. That is the story you’ve been told… 

What the pack hasn’t told you, you’re starting to piece together on your own, slowly. 

Like why Jaebeom did… What he did with you.

He evidently didn’t get you weren’t human anymore. You imagine he knew Chan as one of Jackson’s Betas. He probably wasn’t aware he was from Alpha lineage. That his rank was slowly shifting within the pack, and that his bite could turn. Ah, ranks… Well, that’s complicated and hard to grasp for an outsider, even vampires. Youngjae had to explain them to you at least thrice… As of now. 

There’s the Alpha; the wisest and your leader. His mate is the Lead Huntress, and she is expected to be the fiercest, strongest warrior. You doubt Jackson has a mate at all, you’d have heard about her by now. Wolves are biologically programmed to obey one Alpha, they don’t have a choice. You still don’t fully get that, but they say your bond to Jackson will be stronger after your First Transformation.

The Betas; second in command to the Alpha couple, are skilled warriors and hunters. They keep the pack under control and well organized, Jackson relies on them a lot. The Betas are harder to get close too, you haven’t met many yet. They are mostly legacies, born-wolves.

The Deltas; considered even smarter than most Betas, are in charge of the training of the whelps. Some are also skilled healers, useful in combat. Youngjae is a Delta, and he is taking your training very seriously.

The Epsilons; non-ranking wolves, like you. Apparently, they used to be the largest group within packs before the war, but now there aren’t as many left. Epsilons are rarer, mostly pups that haven’t acquired any valuable set of skills yet.

Lastly, Omegas; always fighting authority... No one ever mentions these troublemakers to you. The fewer, the better.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re still staring at the tiny tear of blood on your finger when Chan appears as if materializing from thin air. He whines, grabbing your hand to assess the damage. 

“Are you hurt?” There’s a deep wrinkle of worry between his brows. Like every time he touches you, warmth envelops you both instantly.

Mates, he explained the first day. Before you can push him away, Chan brings your index to his mouth, gently sucking on your scratch. You’re so stunned by his gesture that you forget you’re supposed to be angry at him. Your lips part in awe, flushing as he licks your finger clean. After a heartbeat he looks up, seemingly realizing what he is doing. Your finger is still in his mouth, but Chan's almond gaze widens. Wolves mate for life, his previous words echo through your mind. What’s with lycanth and vampires with blood?

“I told you to be careful.” Releasing your digit like it’s ardent, he looks somewhat embarrassed. It is hard to actively hate him when every fibre of your being seems to vibrate at his proximity.

“Following me,” regaining poise, you cross your arms over your chest, "again?" 

“Yes,” Chan admits shamelessly, “Jackson asked me too.” 

“And you always do as he says!” You can't help your annoyance. Your former friend looking all cute and innocent after all that happened is too upsetting. 

"Well…” The left corner of his pout jiggles at your outburst. You’ve been going at it every time you see him these days. “He’s our Alpha.” Chan blinks blankly, obviously unsure where you are in your education. “Uh- Jackson is like um… a… How could you… It’ll be like that, you and me… You’ll get it soon, after your First-”

“I know what an Alpha is!” You roar, ducking under a branch to exit his intimate proximity. You need to put as much space as you can between your bodies. This mate bond is making you lose your mind, freaking you out. You can’t even think clear if Chan's near. First Full Moon this, First Full Moon that, there’s never actual explaining with him. “What about what I ask you? I told you… Leave me alone, Chan!” He follows like a lost puppy despite that, only staying a step behind. When you turn to glare at him, his face twists guiltily.

“I’ll do whatever to make us right.” He promises, “I just can’t... Disobey.”

You stop, and he does too, simultaneously. “When can I visit her?” 

“I went and brought Gran some game yesterday, she’s doing fine. She thinks you’re on a hunting tr-”

“When?” You repeat, inquisitive, though you already know the answer.

“Jackson said aft-”

“Don’t bother.” When you turn back to the castle, something catches the corner of your eye; a dark curtain falling back on the window of a room. You catch a breath despite yourself, staring until it stops swinging. It’s the vampires’ wing. That’s one thing that is rather easy to understand about the messy mapping of your new house. Though vampires and werewolves coexist at the Castrum, both equally avoid each other’s company. You haven’t even seen one undead since you’ve been living here, but you are aware there’s plenty of them. 

They live in the West wing, where the sun sets the earliest, and Lycanth – you – live in the East wing, where it rises.  

“It’s not him,” Chan deadpans after a long silence, voice-controlled. He isn't whiny anymore but rather cold. You both know who he means. “He’s been sent away on Council duty.”

“I don’t care.” You lie, although you have a lot on your plate, there’s no denying you do. Not that you have anything special going on with the king just… Ever since that first night, Jaebeom’s not come to see you, not even once. He probably has forgotten all about your existence, you were just a blood bank. Now that you are not fully human anymore, why would he care?

“Do you have any idea how I felt?” Chan asks dryly, all of a sudden. It's the first time he is actually bringing his feelings up. “Or do you not care about that either?”

“I don’t!” You bark back, but even you can tell that it is another lie. Perhaps it’d be easier to truly hate and blame Chan if he hadn’t been your closest friend for years… And if he wasn’t currently taking good care of your grandma, the closest thing you have to a family. You aren’t sure that, knowing what you do now about Chan, you’d made the same deal that night with Jaebeom.

“I was worried sick,” he replies without batting an eye, “I thought he was going to kill you... After... The king took you just to spite me. I finally made a move on you and then you were go-.”

“A move?!” You see it on his face when he understands he messed up bad. You’ve never been one prone to throw fits, but it’s all you can do ever since the bite. You have this anger constantly boiling within, and it's easy to push it all on Chan. “A move would’ve been actually asking me out! Getting me flowers or-”

“You hate flowers.” He reminds, missing the point.

“-or a gift! A move is what Jaebeom made in that room, Chan. Not dooming me into a forced lifelong relatio-”

You regret your words as soon as they slip from your mouth and stop yourself. Not that you don’t believe them, just that he doesn't need to hear that all over again. Even though you’re mad, there’s no denying Chan cares a lot for you. He picked you after getting to know you. Sure, you had no idea what he wanted, but it doesn’t change how he feels. It’s not like your usual self to dismiss people’s feelings like that. He doesn’t need to be told all about what happened between you and the vampire that night because he already knows. He had to listen to it all, has it happened.

“That room.” When he finally speaks again, he looks drained, resigned. He gestures the window with the hovering curtain. “That's Queen Ryujin’s.”

“P-Pardon?”

“I thought you didn’t care about anything or anyone except yourself.” He stares, expressionless, aware his next words have the effect of a stab. “That's his Queen's bedroom.” 

Suddenly, everything is spinning and you reach for your head with both hands for it to stop. Jaebeom is a vampire, he fed on you thinking you were just a lowly human. He hates werewolves, has said so over and over… He is a king somehow, and you’ve… You’ve… How is he married? Does one get that bored when they are eternal?

“Hey... Are you alright?” Chan’s arm wraps around your shoulders to pull you into him.

“Do not touch me!” You growl. Elbowing his chest, you fight back to free yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” his arm falls back idly, ‘I just thought…”

He has the decency to shut up then, and that’s how you know his words were absolutely true. In the end, it doesn’t matter. The only thing you’re sure of right now, is that Chan said this out of spite; hoping to hurt you.

“Y/n!” He calls when you leave but you don’t look back. 

You barely hear him, walking fast to the main hall and trying to calm yourself. Lines between your frustration with your mate and the king blur in your mind. When you reach the castle, you are totally hysterical. It isn’t rational at all, but you could murder anyone right now, you can't control it, it has taken over. Of course, the vampire king has a vampire queen! It all makes sense! Still, there’s a small voice in your mind who craves to yell, louder and louder. Why did Jaebeom bed you then? Sure, he called it ‘feeding’, but he did much more than that. 

“Hi, pup!” One of the Betas you don’t know by name, smirks when you storm through the East Living Room. He’s playing cards with two Deltas; Felix and Sana, Youngjae’s mate. His face falls when he sees you don’t slow down. “Jesus, what did you do this time?” The last comment isn't intended for you. The only reason you catch it is because of your new, inhuman, hearing. You’re already running up the stairs.

“Shut it, Minho!” Chan snarls, obviously still trailing you.

You press on through the long stone corridors, the East wing is way more comfortable than the West one. There’s a large window at the end of the living quarters’ corridor, letting in sun and a fresh breeze all day long. No mildew smell, no torches needed at night, all of you can see perfectly through darkness anyway. You barely have time to reach your bedroom before Chan catches up with you. It better this way since you can slam the door to his face, merciless. 

“Y/n!” He barks, also losing his temper for the gazillionth time since you’ve been living here. The built wolf kicks the door you’re leaning against, causing the hinges to shake violently. He probably could burst through, but he doesn’t. “That’s my room too,” he protests, hitting it once more, “you can’t lock me out forever!” On the first floor, Felix and Minho audibly laugh, highly entertained.

“I used to have my own space, you know? At home!” Spiteful, you kick the door with your heel. You too can hit things. You too can be enraged. “That was before you ruined my life, asshole! You can sleep outside, fuck off!”

“I like her,” Felix whispers downstairs, dead serious as he shuffles the cards, “she’s eloquent.” Unbeknown to you, there’s a small audience slowly gathering in the living room, eager to hear you guys go at it again.

“Right!” Chan’s palm hits the wood, and the door vibrates against your back. “Be mad about the bite! Be mad about your former life! Be mad about losing your humanity! You can hate me for that, at least for a while. I understand you need tim-”

“No, you don’t!” Eyes narrowing meanly, you consider opening the door to tell that to his face but decide against it. It’s safer, you might just rip his throat. “You’ll never get it. You were born with this bane. You have no idea what I’m going through because of you.” 

“Fine! I don’t understand anything! Keep cursing me, keep pushing me away...” Chan grunts hollowly, making the hair rise on your body, but not from fear. It's from that something under your skin that’s alive and pulsating every time he’s near. It’s even worse when you’re angry at each other and fighting. “But...” The Beta is a little less explosive when he goes on, though his words still strike you; “Don’t take it out on me when it's about him...  I can’t stand it! It’s killing me!”

Absolute silence falls on the East Wing of the Inferorum Castrum at the comment. You know because you listen intently, breathing rendered heavy by your outburst. You can’t tell if Chan is still there waiting for you to reply with something. You rack your brain, trying to remember why you even started to yell at him today. With you two, it’s becoming second nature, your only way to communicate. He is wrong, this is not about Jaebeom. You should tell Chan that, it's because of why he brought him up. Before you can make up your mind, he is leaving, dragging his feet along the corridor. When the young wolf reaches the stairs, there’s obvious disarray in the living room. He knows the others where eavesdropping with bated breath but doesn’t mind. There’s rarely ever the need for secrecy or intimacy when you belong to a pack. You start to take for granted everyone knows everything about you. As far as Chan remembers, the others also fought with their mates a lot after the marking, it’s just that there was no vampire involved whatsoever. No third party, luckily for them. 

As soon as he enters the room, every head turns to him and he sees that the number of wolves has tripled. They showed up for the dramatic shit show that is his current love affair. He raises a brow, spotting that even Yugyeom and Bambam made it, two incendiary Omegas. God knows where they were before this all started. 

“I hated Sana for a whole year after she turned me,” Youngjae claims, apparently back from his hunt just in time. He’s probably trying to be reassuring, but months of being at each other’s throat don’t sound too appealing to Chan right now. “Cursed her out every single day...”

“He tried to kill me, twice.” Sana deadpans and his arm stretches around her shoulder, patting for forgiveness. Chan doesn’t even bother answering, wiggling from one foot to the other. He wants to go stretch his legs, he craves a turn. He hasn’t been able to escape his responsibilities ever since you joined the pack. Between you yelling at him and your grandmother worrying...

Leaning against a wall, Yeji looks up, hopeful. “Wanna go for a run?” She proposes and Chan smirks at the young Epsilon. He’s yours now, no matter how you feel about it. Yeji will get over her budding crush on him soon.

“Go! I’ll look after your abusive mate for you!” Yugyeom cackles on the sofa. 

“Yeah, we’ll check her out!” Elbowing his friend, Bambam adds; “You still have a few days before the king comes back...” Chan growls at the rebel wolf as a warning. He fully uncovers his canines, but the Omega smiles widely going on; “At least he’s not here to fuck her agai-” 

“Do not talk about my huntress.” In a second, Chan is on Bambam, fisting his shirt and pulling up until their foreheads are pressed against one another. He warns, nostrils flaring and irides glowing yellow; “I’ll kill you.”

“Chan,” Felix murmurs, most sensible, “don’t mind Bam. He’s just-”

“If one of you disrespects her...” Chan’s tone is so low it’s unrecognizable, mouth almost closed. “You’re disrespecting me, understood?” Everyone around the room nods in acknowledgement. It’s not like any would ever stand a chance of winning a fight against the strongest Beta anyways.

“What do we call a wolf that’s whoring around with a leech?” Bambam snickers nonetheless. The Omega must have a death wish. Seconds before Chan guts him – something that is obviously long overdue – a scary howl resounds through the whole Castrum. The entire pack stills at the timed entrance of the Alpha into the living room. They’re all well aware of where he’s coming back from. 

“What do you call a wolf like that, pup? I’m curious...” Though Jackson’s voice is devoid of any irritation, the Omega whimpers and shrinks on himself, frightened.

“A bitch.” Chan barks in his stance, knuckles white on Bambam’s shirt. Jackson hisses through his teeth, apparently appreciative of the slang.

“Clever... How strange, no one ever told me that one before...” The Alpha looks around the room intently. He bursts out laughing when he doesn’t manage to meet anyone’s gaze. Only Chan dares, standing back and releasing the senseless Omega. “Any of you take issue of my personal life?” The large wolf, smiles, bringing his hand to rub the skin of his neck. “Now’s the time, I’m in a lenient mood...” He says it bright and cheerful but none is foolish enough to actually comment.

“Can I go out?” The Beta blurts out, strained. “Or I might just end that cur...” Jackson assesses his second in command for a moment before nodding. Wow. Chan must truly look like shit.

“I’m sure your pup can manage alone for a few hours.”

“Thank you.” The wolf grunts’ immediately shrugging off his clothes as he begins to exit the room. He doesn’t mind the young Epsilon trailing him like a shadow. He craves fresh air, he hasn’t slept in weeks, running until complete exhaustion is exactly what he needs. 

Upstairs, alone in your room, you are mortified. 

The tears you have been crying since your fight with Chan have dried, and you’re shocked by what happened downstairs. You don’t even get why he took your defence at this point, it’s not like you have been anything but horrible to him. You have no idea how you’re supposed to feel or act around the rest of the pack now that you heard all of that.

A bitch.

Lying on your back, you rub your swollen eyelids. Youngjae claimed the mate bond is inevitable. He also said that it’d be even stronger for you because Chan is the one who directly marked you. He’s expected to be the next Alpha and you’re supposed to revere him. You hadn’t realized what this implied before overhearing that fight. Chan has authority, credibility to ensure with the rest of the pack. Youngjae was marked by Jackson, like every other member that wasn’t born from werewolves. You aren’t simply Chan’s mate, you’re also his first. In the future, if you don't act as such they’ll step on him too, you should be careful.

Nocturna Masterlist | HALLOWEEN

#skz #Bang Chan #Stray Kids #Bang Chan Stories #Bang Chan scenarios #Bang Chan smut #Bang Chan Fic #Bang Chan fanfic #Bang Chan Imagines #Stray Kids imagines #Stray Kids Fanfic #Stray Kids Scenarios #Stray Kids Stories #Stray Kids smut #Bang Chan is so damn hot & cute I can't handle myself #Nocturna #Bang Chan Stray Kids #Chan Chan CHan

[wander-yet-wonder]

Parting the veil - Spaus

Fandom: Hetalia Pairing: Spaus, (Spain / Austria) Word count: 2319 Rating: All audiences Warnings: Historicised attitudes towards Islam do not reflect the author’s views.  Summary: Roderich isn't the best at travelling. Still, he'd gladly do so in order to spend time with his new husband. The Spanish landscape betrays things about Antonio he'd rather keep silent himself. It seems like Antonio has separated himself from his past through a sheer curtain and when visiting Roderich feels like he can almost see through it, see the ghosts that move on the other side. Everything is so foreign to him, will he be able to eventually harmonize with Antonio? Read on AO3: X

I was requested to write a Spaus drabble, apparently, I can’t write drabbles and instead put out a whole ass fic. So um- have this? @fandomghost I hope you like it. Special shoutout to @katemarley  for recommending me Innsbruck ich muss dich lassen when I was nerding to her about German renaissance music <3

At least there were mountains. Roderich was grateful for the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees that decorate the horizon visible from his window. They were the only familiar sight because he was in all other aspects “fast entheimt”. Unfortunately, now that they had reached Zaragoza, a city with a name so foreign that he wouldn’t have discredited as the name of an ancient Persian magician in a novel, the mountains were far more distant and only visible on clear days. The name of the city wasn’t the only thing that was foreign to him, when he and his consorts had crossed the mountains he had felt like the very bedrock that Spain was made of was unlike his own, down to the small crocus like flowers that bloomed in the meadows that their guide had explained to him were rare ‘false saffron’. In Zaragoza, he’d been given a room in the palace of the catholic monarchs that had taken residence there after Isabel I of Castile had married Ferdinand II of Aragon but that in the streets was still referred to by the people as the palace of Aljaféria. Though that royal marriage had unified Spain and was the reason he could stay there to visit his Antonio, Aragon was by no means gone. Her belongings and her culture were still found all over the province. However, he wasn’t to meet her until later that month. He felt like in a way, simply by travelling the land he already had met her. She wasn’t the only shadow of a nation that he felt. Besides Spain, that is to say, Castile and Aragon, there was a third presence within these castle walls, an invisible presence, a ghost from the past.

 Roderich had never fully realised the reality of the occupation by Arabic forces in the peninsula. When he had Antonio in front of him in Aachen, a fierce proprietor of Christendom, speaking Latin with a quintessentially Romanesque tongue… He had somehow thought that as the occupiers left the peninsula, Antonio was a roman again. That when they left, they took everything with them, left no traces, that whatever was left was carefully purged by his new husband. Yet these walls told a different story. In a moment where he’d been free to roam the halls, he’d let himself be spellbound by the strange arabesque masonry, the ever-spiralling geometrical decorative patterning in the friezes, the archways, the capitals. One gallery from where he could reach the stonework, he had secretly pressed his fingers against it, half expecting it to give way like bee’s wax due to how much it resembled a honeycomb. He let out a quivering breath and whispered the name: the Umayyad dynasty, the caliphate of Cordoba. That strange shadow that seemed to hide in the corners in the palace. Had he made a mistake when marrying Antonio? How much of his husband was still Moorish?

 Antonio was always secretive and defensive about his time isolated from the rest of them. Roderich never pressed him for answers. He’d lie in bed next to him and watch Antonio’s quiet breathing and think to himself that Antonio must’ve suffered a lot. Yet he looked at how his own hand looked like porcelain against Antonio’s chest, and he wondered.

 These thoughts were tumbling over each other as he was staring out the window, his letter to the bishop abandoned in front of him as his quill was resting idly between his fingers. He felt sick to the stomach again, he’d always get such bad Heimweh, if only Toni could just always visit him in Austria… that would be a perfect world.

“Ah, there you are!”

Antonio snapped him out of his reverie by materializing in the doorframe and looking at him like he was trying to figure him out, like studying a puzzling little flower, like a false saffron, and wondering whether it was edible or not.

“Have you truly been cooped up in here all-day writing? Come, this won’t do, come out and catch some fresh air.”

He’d already strode over and made to pull Roderich along by the arm despite the young man’s protests that it was too hot outside and that he’d tan.

“I gathered some courtiers, we’re going to play music in the courtyard. If you sit in the gallery you won’t tan. Just join it’ll be great. Did you play that Viol a lot?”

 ‘That viol’ was the lovely Soprano viol that Antonio had given to Roderich when they parted ways after their second visit. Roderich had been familiar with the more European Vieille already and had taken to the instrument like he’d never played anything else. It helped that it was a gift from Antonio, so whenever he missed him too much he could take out the viol, lovingly caress the little wooden face that was carved into the end of the neck with incredible craftmanship, and then by playing and studying bring Antonio a little closer. He’d carefully press down on the strings and would imagine Toni listening and smiling. He’d been playing it when sad or lonely so often he started to feel like he expressed his feelings better through music than through words. So to Antonio’s question, he gave a firm affirmative nod and looked at the case that contained it when he brought it with him here.

“Well bring it! I want to hear!”

Roderich’s heart quickened. He had fantasized about what would happen if he’d play in front of Antonio, that Antonio would listen and understand- that he could say what he wanted to say without words. That Antonio instantly recognised that he’d studied hard just to please him. But now that the moment was here, he felt suddenly nervous.

“Ah, very well, I’ll play for you. But not for your court.”

Antonio looked a little taken aback but then agreed with a smile

“We’ll have fewer instruments then, but it agrees with me.”

 Roderich tried to read Antonio and see if he wasn’t upset but he couldn’t tell. He took the dear instrument and tagged along, all the while trying not to be deafened by his heart nervously pounding in his ears. Antonio retrieved his vihuela de mano from the group of courtiers and declared they wouldn’t be joining them until later. They seemed a little disappointed, but Roderich observed from the doorway that the confident way in which Antonio declared he wouldn’t be present, rather than asked to be forgiven for not joining made no one even think of questioning him. He smiled; this is what he adored in Antonio.

 Antonio took him to one of the palaces many open courtyards and sat him down underneath the strange honeycomb arches on a railing. With just the two of them in an enclosed garden Roderich thought of the many courtly romance novels he’s read and blushed a bit. Antonio caught on and with a grin took his hand and kissed it.

“So, are we going to play music? Or was this all an elaborate plan of yours so we could exchange kisses?”

Antonio was already scooting a bit closer and his smirk grew. Roderich frowned as his blush deepened but couldn’t hide a smile.

“Don’t tease me, Antonio.”

He leaned in and gave Antonio a small kiss on the cheek.

“I had every intention to play music for you."

 Antonio nodded and sat back a bit and gave Roderich a tender smile that sent a warmth spreading through his chest. Roderich got in position and put the viol between his legs. He took a deep breath and took the bow to the strings. He took a deep breath and started to sing. It was the song he’d been singing ever since Innsbruck’s precious valley had been swallowed between the pine trees as they had crossed that fateful bend in the road that meant saying goodbye. Roderich had never been good at travel, he was in his essence a very rooted person. He needed the mountains, the pine trees, the fresh crisp winter air, he needed his home. At first, he had thought that this crippling nervousness that took hold of him when he was in unfamiliar territory had to do with the type of creature that he was: wouldn’t it make sense for countries to have to be close to their lands? But the more other’s he met, the more he learned that isn’t necessarily the case. He sang the first tender lines of ‘Innsbruck ich muss dich lassen’, which he had been practising to bring him solace ever since he had left. He had adapted the original choral piece by giving the higher register to his viol and himself singing a fragile tenor second voice.

 “ISbruck, ich mu�� dich lassen ich far do hin mein strassen in fremde land do hin mein freud ist mir genomen die ich nit weiß bekummen wo ich jm elend bin.”

 It had every property of a learned piece of music, despite its secular subject. In his opinion, the choral harmonies showed a Pythagorean harmony and evoked the harmonies of heaven. It was in every aspect a thing of technical ingenuity. But it was out of place. Singing about Innsbruck and his land in the Spanish summer heat just fell flat. All the emotion he could usually put into it, about missing home and struggling with travel didn’t seem to communicate either.

 “Groß leid muß ich yetz tragen das ich allein thu klagen dem liebsten bůlen mein ach lieb nun laß mich armen im hertzen dein erbarmen das ich muß von dannen sein.”

 The second verse, about parting from your lover was yet another thing very recognisable for him, as he and Antonio often spent large stretches apart from one another. Antonio, however, seemed more concerned with picking dirt out from under his nails than listening. He knew Antonio didn’t know much German, but he hoped he would at least get the gist of it. His voice wavered slightly as he tried to keep Antonio invested in the music all through the last verse.

 “Meyn trost ob allen weyben dein thu ich ewig pleyben stet trew der eren frumm nun muß dich Gott bewaren in aller thugent sparen biß das ich wider kumm.”

 A pledge of faithfulness to the one you’re leaving. It was silent for a moment between them after he finished and Roderich felt like he’d swallowed a brick. Antonio perked up again and took his vihuela.

“You did not enjoy it.”

He must’ve looked hurt because Antonio winced and reassuringly pet his hand.

“Ah no! It was good! I could tell it was technically perfect.”

Antonio was a terrible liar though and with one stern look, Roderich managed to get him to sigh and tell the truth.

“It was just- all the same. And a bit sad, but mostly just that it was the same thing three times, and all the rhythm stayed the same and the distance between the cords stayed the same… It made me feel like I was either at church or just- really bored.”

Roderich was confused, “But- isn’t that what music is supposed to sound like? With regular harmonies? I read in a book-”

Antonio cut him off: “That’s exactly it! It sounds so learned, so lifeless! Shouldn’t music be sweeping? To slowly build and make you feel this- this- Ecstasy! wait, I’ll show you what I learned!”

He started strumming the vihuela. “Ok, you clap along.” Roderich uneasily started clapping, a little off-beat because of the strange rhythm Antonio was creating.

“This is an old one Roderich so you might know it. Hmm, maybe not the words it’s easy, you just sing the refrain with me I’ll do the stanzas. Ok, it’s Santa María, Strela do día, Móstra-nos, pera Déus e nos guía. Got that?”

Antonio was tapping his foot to the rhythm and slapping the wood of his vihuela in between the plucking. Then he suddenly stopped and took a ring of keys of his belt and handed it to Roderich. “Here, shake this- hmm this would be better if we had more players.” But he kept playing until Roderich got the hang of it. Then he started singing with it, the refrain was relatively straightforward but once Roderich got it, Toni started to make strange variations on it that threw him of again.

“No, it’s ok Roderich, you just keep singing the regular version and I’ll vary upon it. Also, the rhythm is rha-pa-pa-pa, rha-pa-papa-pa-pa. Yes, like that.”

Once they sang together like that for a while Antonio inserted stanzas between the refrains where the end of the sentences ended in long drawn out undulating notes. They were unlike anything Roderich had ever heard in a church at home or even at the fair! Though they were singing about Mary, about asking god forgiveness for sins, Roderich felt strange with what was happening. He wasn’t very good at it, but it felt like Antonio was pulling him along in a wild dance. Just as he’d gotten the hang of it, Antonio sped up and harmonized with him. Roderich could feel his body sway from side to side, almost without his will and they moved in perfect unison, rising and falling. He felt his sadness slowly fading and he smiled while singing. The thing Antonio had said about sweeping you away, about ecstasy, he was starting to understand it now. This strange rhythm, and the way Antonio intuitively reacted to what he was doing… it was almost sensual. When they finished his cheeks were red and he was slightly out of breath. Any passer-by would’ve suspected them of exchanging kisses in the garden after all. Perhaps he might as well… He enthusiastically threw himself forward, wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed Antonio on the lips. Nothing as chaste as before, the vihuela awkwardly between them. Antonio was clearly surprised but not complaining.

 Hi! Welcome to this fic exploring the musical differences between Antonio and Roderich (and perhaps, by extension in their personalities). The music, however, isn't the only historical reference going on in here.

 This fic is set very shortly after their marriage so anywhere between 1520 and 1525. They're still trying to figure each other out and getting to know the other's culture. Or at least, Roderich is.

 The Moorish occupation of the Iberian peninsula was in that time seen as a very dark page in Spain's history and after the Reconquista Spain was portraying itself as an extremely Christian country (perhaps overcompensating slightly?). The time in Al Andalus, however, was a time when music, poetry and science flourished in Spain and the land and culture are still very influenced by it. The palace they're staying in is evidence of that. (Look up a picture it's gorgeous).

 Roderich is starting to notice these Islamic influences in his new husband. And as a Christian man living in the 1500's they make him warry (not to speak of the attacks of the Ottoman empire on Austria in that time). However, the thing he ends up enjoying immensely about Antonio in this fic, his music, is something that is extremely Moorish.

Moorish music was seen as highly skilled and highly superior music even after Christianisation and Moorish musicians were still employed by the court a lot for special events.

 There are two characters in here that aren't canon: the kingdom of Aragon and the Caliphate of Cordoba. The Kingdom of Aragon is a fierce lady that's the bane of Antonio's existence even though right now they're unified.

 The pieces that both of them play are from their respective countries, and links are included in the lyrics. Roderich's is a contemporary piece by Henrich Isaac. If the lyrics look strange that's because that's the original 16th-century german. Antonio's piece is older, It's one of the many cantiga's de Santa maria. These canticles were written for King Alfonso X, who made a great contribution to early Spanish Christian culture. They're in the Galician dialect of Spanish that's super close to Portuguese.

 As for their instruments, there are three instruments mentioned. The first being Roderich's viol. This is a predecessor to the modern-day violin, but also to the cello. It belongs to the family of the 'viola da gamba'. it was developed in 15th-century Spain. They are played upright in the lap with a bow. You can see one in use here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLgJPBDzS6o

 The viol bore some resemblance to the vielle, an older and more northern European relative to the instrument, that is actually played underneath the chin. The experience with the vielle is what made it easier for Roderich to learn the viol.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdps64D-u-g

 finally, Antonio is playing the vihuela da mano. While this seems yet another instrument of which the name resembles 'violin' it actually resembles a guitar more!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duHMeCndpjo

 And let's not forget about the important percussion instrument: Antonio's keys.

 Have any questions about historical things I forgot to explain? please don't hesitate to shoot me a message or comment on this fic and I'll gladly elaborate.

#Spaus #aph Spain #aph austria #historical hetalia #spaaus #bringbackhetalia2020 #bringbackhetalia2k19 #juliwrites

[imagineredwood]

Request: Bobby’s biological daughter that he didn’t know he had until she shows up with CPS because her mom and stepdad were abusive. She has to learn to let people in again.

Pairing: Dad Bobby x female reader 

Warnings: Abuse, allusions to PTSD symptoms, trust issues 

Word count: 1,569

“Who the hell is that?”

The Sons all looked up at the security camera as they saw a vehicle pull in and park and well-dressed man and woman stepping out from the driver and passenger seats. Clay watched the screen with furrowed brows as they looked around the complex, the man going to the backseat and opening the door, a teenage girl stepping out of the bar. She held a large bag in her hand that had everyone confused, Jax looking towards Clay. 

“Feds?”

“With some teenybopper? I doubt it. Let's go check it out.” 

Clay and Jax both stood, making their way outside while the rest of the Sons stayed, most of them stubbing out their joints just in case they were feds and came in with a warrant. The rest of the Sons including Bobby watched their President and VP walk out and exchange words with the two people before Clay took a paper that the man held out towards him. Clay read over it and Jax did as well over his shoulder. They both stopped to look at each other before nodding and motioning for the three of them to come into the clubhouse. Tig cursed, taking the ashtray with the roaches to go flush them. 

“Goddamnit. That must be a warrant.” 

Juice ran over to light one of Gemma’s candles and hide the rolling papers while the rest of the Sons stayed sitting nonchalantly and acting normal. Bobby wasn’t paying much mind. At his age, worrying was not something he enjoyed doing and he wouldn’t unless it was something really bad. So he kept his wits about him as Clay, Jax and the kid with the other two walked in, Clay motioning towards Bobby. 

“That’s him.”

Bobby’s eyes squinted at the words. What the hell could these people want with him? 

“Mr. Munson?”

Bobby tried to keep his expression neutral as the man and woman eyed him. You and he locked eyes though and he could see a sense of awe in them. Why, he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, that’s me. Who’s asking?”

The man stepped forward this time, swallowing drying as he felt the eyes on him and handed Bobby the papers. Bobby took them from his and being reading over them, none of the words really making sense until he saw the file about the police report made after the cops were called for a domestic dispute. It was there that he saw the name of your mother. They had never been overly close, the relationship more of a complicated one night stand that turned into something else entirely. She had been unstable and inherently violent. It was for that reason that he had called it quits, and also why he recognized the name as soon as he ran his eyes across it. His heart stopped then sunk as he saw that the spot for the father on your birth certificate had been left blank. He knew quickly what this was about then. The man verbalized in case he was confused though. 

“This is Y/N, she was taken into the system and given to us to look after a call was received about a disturbance at the house. The investigation is still new but we have enough evidence that the home was abusive so we removed her from her mother and step father’s care. The mother tells us that you are her father, she just never made you aware. If that’s true then you now technically are her legal guardian. We can arrange to have a paternity test if you’d like the certainty...”

The man trailed off as Bobby shook his head, looking up at you. The age gap between the two of you didn’t allow there to be many characteristics that showed resemblance, but your eyes and curls were enough to convince Bobby that it was all true. You were his kid, no doubt. He had a rush of emotions run through him. Anger at missing out on knowing you, guilt at not having been there, sadness that you were now one more child of his that he’d fucked up on. He clenched the papers in his hand and blew out a shaky breath as he looked at you. Your eyes held worry and emotional exhaustion but even still, you tried to smile at him softly. 

“So you are my dad?”

Bobby stayed quiet for a second or two, still slightly in shock at how drastically his day had changed in such little time. 

“Seems like it kid.”

The woman nodded and smoothed her hands down the front of her blouse, giving you a soft smile as she put her arm around you, hand squeezing your shoulder. 

“You do have some family, after all, see?”

You nodded and looked back at your now father and the rest of the men who sat around him wearing wide eyes but small smiles as well. Bobby slowly started to tune out the sound of the social workers talking to you as he looked over the rest of the file, pictures of bruising along your body, hospital bills for stitches, an x-ray of a hairline fractured cheekbone. Whether he’d known you for a day or for his whole life, you were still his kid, and the thought of you being abused was enough to get his blood boiling, an angry huff coming from him as he tossed your file roughly to the side on top of the bar. 

The sound and action of annoyance caught your attention though and made you jump and swallow, thinking it was directed at you. 

“I don’t have to stay with you if you don’t want me to. They were saying I could maybe go to a foster family or something.”

Bobby quickly shook his head, cursing himself for not thinking before he threw the stack of papers. He knew that your background and what you’d been through was going to be difficult to deal with and he knew it was going to take some adaptation on his part. Everything happened in a blur after that, Bobby accepting legal guardianship as your father, signing a paper stating he would take you in, taking the near inch thick packet of paperwork associated with any legal proceedings and the works. 

Gemma had come in at some point and caught the tail end of the interaction. It was enough for her to understand what was happening though and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you were uncomfortable bordering on fearful at the new environment and people. She stepped up slow, having seen the picture in the file as well, a warm smile on her face. 

“Hi baby, I’m Gemma. I’m his mom,”

She pointed over to Jax who smiled as you looked back over at him. 

“Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen, we’ll make something to eat?”

She kept her distance, giving you your space, allowing you to make your own decision. You hesitated at first, eyeing her. She seemed friendly enough but you knew better than to be fooled by that. Even still, you nodded and placed your bag down. She held her hand out for you to grab but you shook your head, stuffing your pants into the pockets of your jeans. Gemma didn’t seem to mind, her smile not wavering as she walked with you into the kitchen.  

“This is good. Thank you.”

Both Gemma and Bobby looked up from their own soup as they heard your voice. 

“There’s plenty more if you want another bowl.” 

You nodded in acknowledgment and looked back down at your lunch.

“Im not really used to eating actual meals like this. Like that are warm and cooked.”

Neither of them responded to your comment directly, not wanting their anger to come out. Instead, Gemma smiled, reaching over to lay her hand atop yours. She didn’t miss that flinch that came but this time you didn’t pull away. 

“You’ll always have a warm, home-cooked meal with us, baby. Anything you need or want, you’ll have here.”

Bobby looked over as well, his eyes holding yours. 

“You ain't never gonna have to worry about needing anything ever again. I promise you that. I know you weren’t being taken care of back there with your mother, but you will be here.” 

He saw the small beginning of a smile tug at your lips and you nodded before looking back down at your soup.

“Thanks...Bobby.”

He smiled back, not having expected you to start calling him dad. He knew the police report and the pictures were only scraping the surface of what you had gone through and he knew you weren’t going to start trusting everyone overnight. He would be damned if he didn’t make sure he tried to make you feel safe. He knew in his age he wouldn’t be able to do everything a younger dad would do not would he have the time, especially with the club, but he knew in time the younger Sons would become like big brothers to you, Gemma providing you with a mother figure, the club becoming your family. He would do everything in his power to give you a place to belong.  A home where you would feel safe and protected. That would come in time though. For now, he would start slow and make up for lost years. 

“So, you like ice cream?”

#bobby munson #gemma teller #sons of anarchy #imagines #SAMCRO #sons of anarchy imagine #bobby x reader #gemma x reader

[saxxxology]

BITTEN - Ch.4

After getting bitten by a werewolf, Sam finds himself trying to adapt to a brand new lifestyle that brings him closer to the girl he loves, but threatens to tear him apart from his family for good.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2200

WARNINGS: non-consensual werewolf bite (not sexual), a/b/o dynamics: heat/rut, knotting, claiming, breeding kink, angst, time hop (season 9 to 12), and more.

NOTE: Edited by @kayteonline and @kittenofdoomage - please heed all warnings and enjoy! This is NOT intended to be a dark fic, but if you read something that bothers you, it is your responsibility to stop reading, keep scrolling past it, or contact me for content clarification.

Buy Sam’s scent from my Etsy shop

Read the entire series on Patreon for just $3

Series Masterlist

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY OTHER SITES.

Dean was in the kitchen when you walked up. He was cradling a large cup of coffee in one hand, and when he saw you emerge from the basement, his gaze fixed on you.

“How is he?” he asked urgently, “is he okay?”

You nodded. “It’s over. He’s fine, just hungry. Where’s Garth?”

“He went out with Bess. She’s in shock over what happened, so he took her to a safehouse out of state.” Dean watched as you pulled a pan from the rack on the wall and set it on the stove. “What do you mean by ‘fine?’”

“He’s not in pain anymore, his fever went down.” You cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them around. “He just needs to recuperate for a few days, maybe a week.”

“Can I see him?” Dean asked.

You nodded and pulled a couple bagged chicken hearts from the fridge. “After he’s eaten. He’s gonna be stronger than normal for a while, so we gotta keep his human contact minimal.” You heard Dean exhale heavily as you started chopping the hearts into chunks. “Dean, I know you wanted to find a cure, but there’s nothing you could have done. I’ve seen people get bit and go through a lot worse. At least he’s alive. He’s a little different than he was yesterday, but he’s alive.”

Dean nodded and leaned against the counter. “You’re really intent on taking care of him, huh?”

“It’s my job to take care of my pack.” You replied, pulling four sausages from the fridge and tossing them in the pan, along with an entire pack of bacon. “Russ and Joba are gone. The Reverend’s… well, let’s just say I’m in charge of the pack, now. I care for Sam, deeply. If it were up to me I would have killed Joy myself so that didn’t happen.”

You heard Dean scoff, but when you looked at him you could see he was grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dean finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Just… I never thought you’d actually spook over a guy getting turned.”

You shrugged. “I know when to care about someone getting bit. I wanted Sam to leave, I wanted him to forget about me, about the pack. I never wanted him to get bit.”

Dean nodded shortly. “The way I look at it now is, he could have been bitten and left to die. At least this way he’s got you and Garth and Bess to look after him, make sure he won’t get into trouble.”

You finished cooking in silence. Piling most of what you’d cooked onto a large plate, you slid one of the sausage links, a small pile of eggs, and several strips of bacon on a separate one, which you offered Dean. He accepted it gratefully, noting that you’d cooked the chicken hearts in  a separate pan. When you re-entered the basement, you found Sam sitting up and stretching his arms above his head.

“I could smell that from down here,” he muttered, turning his head to look at you, “is that normal?”

You handed him the plate and watched him begin to devour the food, shoveling a mixture of everything into his mouth with a fork that seemed comically small in his large hands. “Yeah, it’s pretty normal. And don’t worry about eating everything there, your appetite’s going to be pretty out there for the next couple days.”

Within minutes, Sam had completely annihilated the food on the plate. He tilted his head back against the wall, his lips parted as he sighed in satisfaction. “There was a heart in there, wasn’t there?”

“Two. Small ones, just chicken, nothin’ special.” You took the plate from him and set it down on the floor before snuggling into him. “How do you feel?”

Sam exhaled heavily and slipped an arm around your shoulders. “Not hungry anymore, definitely not tired… I feel strong. Stronger than before.” He flexed his arms, examining the muscles that bulged under the gray sleepshirt. He seemed bigger. “Actually, I feel like I need to run, get out…”

“There’s the punching bag.” You gestured to the slightly misshapen tool in the corner. “I can’t let you out yet, gotta know you can control yourself around humans.”

“Humans…” Sam looked down at his lap and swallowed. “That’s right, I’m not human anymore.”

You shook your head. “That’s not entirely true. You’re still human here,” you put a hand over his heart. “You’ll still be able to function like a human, your instincts are just rewired a bit, that’s all.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, what happens when I wolf out and go nuts?”

“That won’t happen.” You nuzzled his shoulder and stood with him as he shuffled over to the punching bag. He gave it an experimental nudge with his fist. “Want to see Dean?”

He nodded apprehensively. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna try to hurt him.”

“Sam, you won’t—”

“You don’t know that. Make sure I don’t try to hurt him.”

You bowed your head and trotted back up the stairs, closing and locking the cage door behind you. Dean was still waiting in the kitchen, and he stood upon seeing you emerge from the basement.

“You can see him, but we have to be careful,” you said quietly. “If he smells you he could try to get at you, that’s gonna be his first instinct. The cage door down there has silver on it, so if he tries anything it’ll hurt, bad, but I need you to stay on the stairs, keep your distance.”

Dean held his hands up as if in surrender. “Trust me, I’ll be keepin’ my distance.”

You led him down the basement, slowly, his boots clunking heavily on the thick wooden planks. You could hear the dull, repetitive THWACK of Sam’s fists against the punching bag, but after the basement door closed, they ceased, and the space fell silent as you and Dean came down the steps. A little more than halfway down, you motion for him to stop.

“Dean, stay here.”

He nodded quietly and waited for you to slip past the cage, locking it behind you.

Sam was standing in the corner by the punching bag, his arms folded across his middle. You motioned for him to walk over, but he shook his head. “Y/N, I can’t… I don’t want him to see me like this. I can smell him, I can hear his heartbeat.”

“You won’t hurt him.” You walked closer to him, reaching for one of his hands. “Sam, come on, I’ll be there. The door’s got silver on it, you won’t be able to get out.”

Sam lowered his voice. “What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Now come on.” You led him slowly over to the wire door. His heartbeat increased with every step, and you heard his breathing grow more and shakier.

When Dean came into view, you didn’t know if Sam was going to recoil or lunge at the gate. He could hear Dean’s heartbeat, steady and slow, the rush of blood pumping through his veins, traces of whiskey and cedar covering up the thick, coppery scent…

...No, stop it! That’s your brother! You wouldn’t bite your own brother!

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was quiet as he took another step down the stairs. “Hey, it’s me.”

Sam paused, took a deep breath. “I know.” He looked down at the ground and closed his eyes, trying as hard as he could to stop from hurling himself at the wall of the cage. “How’ve you been?”

“Uh, worried, for one,” Dean chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I went out for a little during the night, tried looking for a cure or something…”

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed and clenched his fist. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but all he wanted to do was break out of the cage and rip his brother’s chest apart, get at the thick, pulsing muscle that was hidden behind bone and sinew, devour the warm, blood-drenched organ that kept his brother alive…

No! Goddamn it! Stop!

“I thought you’d be gone.” Sam cleared his throat as a fresh wave of hunger washed over him.

“Had to make sure you’re okay, didn’t I?” Dean caught your warning glance to stay where he was and decided not to take the last two steps down. Hell, he might be too close already. “How do you feel?”

Sam swallowed thickly as you increased the pressure on his hand. “Honestly, I feel good. I’m strong, I’m not hurting, just wanna get the hell out of here.”

“And why can’t you?” Dean shifted his gaze back and forth between you and Sam.

“Because if I get out of here I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from trying to hurt you or someone else,” Sam stated bluntly.

Dean seemed taken aback by Sam’s words. Apparently, he hadn’t considered just how dangerous Sam really was until he’d said it. “Sam, you wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know what I’d do, Dean, hell, I don’t know what I’d do.” Sam’s body trembled as he spoke, but he stood his ground. “The only reason I’m not going after you right now is that I know I shouldn’t, but if Y/N wasn’t here with me, if this happened somewhere else… I don’t know if either of us would be alive right now.”

You saw Dean swallow, saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and heard Sam growl, low and deep in his chest.

“Sam, don’t say that.”

“You’re not in the place to tell me what to do, Dean.” Sam retorted. “I’m a monster, both of us know that. You don’t know how… how hungry I feel right now. I don’t have a friggin’ clue what’s making me feel this way, but if you weren’t my brother… I’d kill you, without thinking.”

Looking up, you noticed Sam’s upper lip beginning to twitch. He was starting to lose control. “Dean, I think you should go, this isn’t—”

Dean, obviously, didn’t listen. Instead, he did the worst thing he could. He took another step, closing the distance between him and his brother by another two feet.

Overcome by hunger, Sam snapped. You saw his eyes flash yellow as his instinct to attack sprang free. He snarled, his lips curling back over his teeth as his muscles bunch. He lunged forward, slamming all two-hundred pounds of his body against the cage. His long fingers were pointed in two-inch claws, which curled in the wire before he stumbled back with a yelp of pain; the silver on the wire had seared his skin.

Dean fell back when Sam crashed against the cage, bringing an arm up instinctively to protect his face.

“Dean!” You shouted, pulling Sam back against the far wall and holding him there. “Get out! Now!”

You saw Dean stagger to his feet his eyes fixed on the snarling beast of a man now ten feet away from him. He was staring at Sam with a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow on his face. Sam took several half-gasping, half-growling breaths before reeling himself back in. He collapsed to the floor, his fingers pressing hard into the smooth concrete. He bowed his head as his body shook even harder.

“D-Dean, I’m sorry!” He gasped out. “I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help—”

The door at the top of the stairs slammed before Sam could finish, and seconds later you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the grind of her tires scraping on the dirt road as she tore out of the drive and down the road.

Sam’s shoulders heaved with a sob as he collapsed back, breathing hard as he fought to still his shaking hands. The claws had vanished and his eyes were back to hazel, but he still shook with panic. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he choked, “I didn’t—I didn’t—”

“Sam, it’s okay, he’s just gone to cool off.” You soothed him. “He’ll be back, I promise.”

Sam shook his head and reached to grip your hand as you rubbed his shoulder soothingly. “No way in hell. He saw me snap and that was it. He thinks I’m a monster.” He turned his head, and you saw tears streaming from his now hazel eyes. “I am a monster.”

You sat next to him and wrapped your arms around him as tight as you could. “Oh, Sam, it’s all right. You’re not a monster, you’re not. You’re adapting to a new lifestyle, and yeah, you have some different urges, but you’re just starting out. It’s barely been an hour since you woke up, I didn’t expect you to stay under control.” You hugged him tighter and let him bury his face in the curve of your neck. “Dean got spooked, that’s all. He’ll come back.”

“Will he?” Sam straightened his back and practically glared down at you. “How can you know that? Hm? Tell me how you know my brother’s gonna come back thinking I’m still the guy he grew up with.”

TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE OPEN

If you want to see chapter 5, reblog and leave a comment! Feedback is my fuel!

Forever tags: @atc74 @becaamm @bamby0304 @crispychrissy @crashdevlin @curly-haired-disaster @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @kittenofdoomage @kayteonline @kdfrqqg @littlegreenplasticsoldier @lunarsaturn88 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @manawhaat @mereka18 @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @oneshoeshort @percussiongirl2017 @serpentbaby @spnwoman @smallgirlbigpersonality @shaelyn102 @thelittleredwhocould @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @zombiewerewolfqueen @85natalie @81mysteriouslyme

“Bitten” tags: @linki-locks11 @lez-boatz-writez @wotinspntarnation

#bitten series #alpha!sam x omega!reader

[gg-astrology]

hiii gg! (i still don't know ur name 😔) what's the difference between sidereal and tropical? im a libra rising 6° sidereal and scorpio rising 1° in tropical.

Hey there (tis Nita but gg is fine too!! skdnfj) 💕💕💕 I’ve been saving this ask for a while and I finally have time to talk about it now!! 💕💕💕💕

[Side-real v Tropical ?? Whats that and What do?? ]

🚫long post 🚫

This is really really stripped down and basic but lemme jus explain a really quick zip up of some stuff

I’m going to skim over alot of details, and by no means am I an expert on this. So please read with your discretion

 I’m jus gonna give you a real quick run down of the basics oki 💕 

Hmm how to do this.. ok so let’s start for beginner beginner and go forward ok?

Beginners, hello! 💕 Today we’re gonna talk about 2 sets of zodiac (same signs just… how should we categorize/where does the start actually start) – that you might or might not know about yet! 💕

When I say ‘sets of zodiac’— today we’re going to consider the 12 signs. Just the 12 signs. And where it starts. Simple yes?

Questions we might be asking today: how do we have 12 signs?? (and consequently: Is there more?) and also ‘what do you consider to be the ‘real’ zodiac?’ 

For most people who started learning western/modern astrology, you’ll probably start off with using the Tropical system– which is the default nowadays and what astro sites usually use! 

Let’s learn a little about the Tropical system then?? What about it?? What it do?? 

Tropical Astrology

Tropical Astrology is probably the one most beginners tend to start out using, most people don’t realize maybe because it’s automated on most astro sites and generators nowadays. But there is an option where you can ‘check’ what kind of Zodiac set you’re using:

Like here, you can see on the left it says ‘zodiac’ and it’s usually set at ‘tropical’. 

In our really long history of astrology through the eras, we’ve transformed and evolve, shift and made things as we’ve come along. It’s still happening today too, but Tropical zodiac we align our Aries (the start of the Tropical zodiac) to when Spring begins (transform/shifts and ‘begins’ or carries through into spring from Pisces -> Aries).

We might’ve heard how cardinal signs are the ‘start’ of each astronomical seasons (Aries- Spring, Capricorn- Winter, Cancer - Summer, Libra- Fall) carrying the solstice and equinox of each one. The year (12 months) can be split into 3 months, 3 months of which we’re supposed to be in ‘each season’💕

Thus the 12 signs are also split into 3 modes, with the elements of each sign falling onto different modes as each other. Creating a certain hierarchy and dynamic, falling into place. The ‘start’, the ‘fixed’ and the ‘end/transformation’ (self, social, transcendent) of each reaction/behaviour in our signs. 

(Taurus/Leo/Aquarius/Scorpio are smack dab in the middle of their ‘season’ before they shift/transform into the mutable signs, that adapts and changes.. getting ready for the new season again) 

With the tropical, because Aries is always aligned with the Spring Equinox whenever the Spring Equinox is-- that’s when Aries is supposed to start. It changes, so it’s nice to consider how the person who considers themselves a ‘sun cusps’ of something can figure out which sign they’re were born in according to their specific year (y know, not really a fixed date since we got Aquarius early this year as well) 

And ok, that’s fair and good. But what about the stars? And this is where the mayham begins.

The Mayham

The thing about it is, the idea that the first degree of Aries also coincides with the beginning of spring can be like, yeah ok that’s good and true bc it’s seasonal and not ecliptical (aka like, we don’t have to consider the foot of Orpheus being in the way of our ecliptic plane and thus complications over that. But also i’d like to remind us that astrology wise: tropical or side-real are both equally relevant and important and shouldn’t be dismissed) 

We can feel the affect of how that might not always be the case though (ugh climate change and global warming but that’s human factor and I’m picking fights with the wrong thing here). 

Climate wise, some sides are having longer winter, longer summers than what was preceded 1000 years ago. Astronomical season vs Meteorological seasons. So should we go with season?? or Stars?? What is the truth?

(also for those of you who are curious about meteorological seasons, it’s like how the start of the season should be at the first day of the month. So the start of spring is essentially March 1st… running to May 31st. Clean, easy, cut and set.) 

Who even came up with the idea of 0/1st degree of Aries = Spring? It’s mr. Claudius Ptolemy (1 BCE). Our favourite Greek astronomer who saw that Aries Vernal Equinox coincide with the Spring back then. 

What we didn’t know however, is that back then the side-real and tropical coincides together. The earth ‘wobbles’ a little through the century (although Mr Ptolemy did apparently know that— but the 21st century will have to deal with it and figure out what we wanna use now, instead of him sdkfjn) 

The ‘start’ of Aries shifts. Not coinciding with the ecliptic. At first it was aligned, so no problemo. But after people started dying and years have passed (centuries) we start to notice that  the ‘start’ of the Tropical zodiac is now 25 degrees later than the Side-real zodiac (what the sky says/what the season says)

(So to answer your question: if you look at your side-real you’ll probably find that you might’ve moved back one sign. In all aspect, so with a Tropical Scorpio ASC you’re now a Side-real Libra ASC) 

The degrees gets added a little more bc of the wobble (or ‘precession of equinox’)… so let’s say its 25 degrees now… 1 (or 1.4) degree is added every 72 years or so (the ‘precession/wobble’) until it becomes 26 degrees different later (and so on) 

Equinox?? Tf??

For those who wanna know what that feels like… The Spring Equinox is essentially– for those who lives around the tropics, This is the time we all begin to suffer from heat (which will get worse and maybe we’ll be lucky for chances of rain). And for those who are upper/lower begins to have better weather. Congrats. 

The wobble that the Earth goes through (I think it’s called the ‘Axial Precession’ and ‘precession of equinox’) causes deviation in our we measure the ecliptic. Instead of looking at the ‘declination’ of the Sun in accordance to Earth (our earthling ego is so big) we now base it around the Sun’s ‘ecliptic/celestrial longitude’ instead.

(— also on that topic you can also check ‘Chandler’s Wobble’ as well!)  

The ‘precession’ gets longer, to skip the details and not confuse you, let’s just say because the Earth wobbles – our Tropical system and Side-real system starts to differ.

How? Why? What is a side-real?? We defined tropical as the 1st degree of Aries coinciding with the start of Spring. So what is side-real?

Side-real

Is a little more based on Constellation Zodiac. Think of us learning how to read constellations. Basically, our ancestors have noticed that our Earth, the Sun, Moon and 5 other planets are moving through the sky with a very specific routes in their travels. 

The observable stars and planets that we see scattered across our night skies makes up the visible ‘constellations’. The ones that coincides with the planets– the ones that the planet moves through, are the ones that we ‘count’. Whilst the ones that are just visible/there– are the ones that we don’t.

So technically, imagine if you were looking up at the sky. And you can see Mars travelling into this bish of a star again. You go ‘oh its Taurus season, it’s happening again ugh’. That’s what it’s like to live with fixed stars skjnksn

That’s a little off, but to help you out a little the path that these stars/planets travels to (the specific path) is called the ecliptic. It’s like how our sun has an ecliptic and sees the paths in which these constellation/stars move above in our sky. A little trippy, kinda weird. But also really really cool huh (think of the gif above of things just rotating along it’s axis and spinning, a little trippy huh)?

The side-real zodiac is based more on the constellations, these sets of ‘fixed stars’ that travels through our ecliptic and what we can see/observed. Because it’s not based on the equinox– the seasons, our environment and how it affects us as humans– the side-real is often regarded as the more ‘astronomical’ or the two.

Around the 5BCE (i think) the Mesopotamia starts to create a ‘standardized’ zodiac for side-real (or jus the zodiac since the hellanistic era is when things really starts to boom up and shift around) — technically some stars are smaller than others. But they decided that they’re gonna give each stars equal segments and make them look like they’re the symbolic representation of the heavens instead (poetic and also really cool, y know like why everything looks like a circle on the chart anyways– also the start of decans, which is really neat too!)  

So let’s… regroup a little.. That was a lot. Let’s give you a little tl;dr summary to work with:

Side-real zodiac would mean Aries ‘starts’ (1st degree of Aries) 25 days before the Equinox (currently)

Tropical isn’t based on the constellations/fixed stars (like side-real) but rather the Equinox and Solstice themselves (Aries ‘starts’ on the Spring Equinox)

Side-real is based on the constellations, and the celestial ecliptic. Whilst Tropical is based on the seasons, how it influences us.

You remember how I mentioned Tropical dates for the Sun sign? How Aries is March 21st - April 20th? With Side-real, it’s completely normal to have a different Sun sign Zodiac. So don’t freak out 💕

Right, that was a lot… so essentially what we’re dealing with here is two sets of zodiac. One that’s based on Season and one that’s based on Constellation/Fixed-stars. 

Which one do you choose?

Well… for me, personally, I just go with both? Learning both can be helpful. Plus there’s so much history behind both of them that it’s really good to balance and use both in my studies.

You might’ve heard of the debate with the star Orpheus that popped up. It’s more of an argument with the side-real part, where people say ‘hey if we’re going by the ecliptic then shouldn’t Orpheus that is between Scorpio and Sagittarius be counted? As the 13th sign in the zodiac?’ 

That’s another topic all together. But anyways. Which one is more accurate which one is wrong– well neither? Just because they’re different instruments, doesn’t mean they won’t end up reaching similar conclusions. It’s just a matter of what you’re using them for, or how you’re utilizing them.

(Also im skimming a lot of the details and debate on stuff, a lot of the argument might center around y know— basing it on stars instead of season. But also what do when feets of stars dangle within our ecliptic. Lotsa argument, debate and stuff on how the earth works in relation to our gravity, space, the Moon as well. Tropical vs Side-real. But y know. Both systems are good and valid it’s the more technical stuff that differs.) 

Tropical and Side-real??

Some people feel more at ease and comfortable with side-real, and that’s cool. Some people prefers tropical, and that’s cool too. None of these sets of instruments are ‘wrong’ because the dance of the seasons that Tropical brings and the constellation star-path that Side-real brings are both valuable and of importance???

One thing to remember for those is that Vedic astrology might not always be the same as side-real. Whilst Vedic astrologers may use side-real zodiac, the set of instrument themselves depends from people to people (vice versa with Western astrology with Tropical, you can use side-real. But it’s not Vedic astrology. Does that make sense?)

These zodiac sets are tools, zodiac instruments. How you play them differ from people to people (Vedic astrologers and Western astrologers) whether you’re a traditional astrologer, or a modern one. Whether you’re a Brazilian Vedic astrologer, or an Indian Vedic astrologer. How you play these instruments differ. So that’s a little something on… that.

Ayanamshas

One last thing about side-real astrology I think…. is that the ‘start’ of something in the Ayanamshas.

When you clicky the ‘side-real’ zodiac option it shows you a drop down list of ayanamshas to choose from (astro.com) The most popular one is ‘Fagen/Bradley’ and ‘Hindu/Lahiri’ – doing a lil bit more research on this might be good for you, since y know. People disagree on a lot of things 

(also you can use whole signs for this, since y know. it makes your life a little easier.)

I think that’s?? All I have to say for now?? For further research y know the Thema Mundi and learning about the Dendara, History of Astrology in general might be nice to get to know too. I’ll link my sources now:

Ayanamshas - Astro.com

Side-real and Tropical: What is Real?  - Real Astrology

Tropical, Side-real and Tropical Zodiac - Horoscopic Astrology Blog

The Thema Mundi - Horoscopic Astrology Blog 

The Western Tropical, Vedic Sidereal or Nakshatras? - Star Wheel Astrology

The Different Zodiacs used in Astrology - Star Wheel Astrology

Western Side-real Astrology - This ones more Fagan/Bradley based. 

Podcast: Tropical vs Sidereal | Kenneth Browner | Vic DiCara Dendera (YT video) 

Babylonian Star Lore - Gaven White (*change the end of the url link to the different signs) 

Wikis: Chandler Wobble | Axial Precession | Equinox | Declination of the Sun | Axial Tilt | Ecliptic Co-ordinate System | 

Astronomical Season and Meteorological Seasons 

Oh right I forgot to actually answer!! Aaaaahmmm if you count back 25 degrees currently from your Tropical placements, you’ll get your Side-real placements. So to answer why your Scorpio shifted to Libra, it’s like that bc it’s currently 25 degrees apart right now. 💕 But yeah again, the technicalities of it depends on what ayanamshas you use! 💕

#anon #asks #astrology asks #side real #sidereal #tropical #ayanamshas #zodiac #astrology sets #also i swerved...so many things so sjkdnfkn

[connors-quarter]

Water

Part 1

Pairing: Connor RK800 x Reader

Summary: Shower thoughts and existential crisis.

Word Count: 1653

A/N: im dodging responsibilities rn

You leaned into the bathtub, sleeves rolled up and safely tucked away from the spraying water. You aimed the nozzle against the wall, pressing fingers in front of the spray to test the temperature. You knew it wouldn't affect him, but you made sure it was comfortable anyways.

“Okay, I'm gonna wash your back first, is that alright with you?” You asked with a low voice. You didn't want to startle Connor, especially in the state he was in.

“That's okay.” He quietly replied. His LED still flashed yellow.

Connor was bare in your bathtub. His blue stained clothes were tossed on the linoleum, ripped and torn beyond repair. Hank had dropped him off at your house, asking to take care of him while he was at the station. He needed to file a report, there was a deviant android killed at their investigation. Something about Stratford Tower, the reason why channel 16 had such a chilling message on display earlier.

From what Hank told you, it was this same android that Connor was connected to at the time of death. He felt every emotion, before and after the deviant pulled the trigger. Connor hadn't spoken about it since, but Hank told you what little he knew.

So he left Connor with you, Hank's neighbor, to try and calm the android back down. He has been unresponsive and even at some points hostile with other officers. He couldn't go back to the station like this, so you were trying your best to help him out.

And to do that, you decided to rid him of the other androids blood, perhaps that would be a good start.

He was shot in the shoulder, so you took a washcloth to that wound first. Connor didn't flinch, didn't even acknowledge that you were wiping away the remnants of his wound. Maybe Cyberlife can repair the damage, you took mental note to take him to an engineer later.

You carefully wiped away at his freckled skin, minding the clean hole straight through his shoulder. With a gentle spray of water, you rinsed the soapy suds and watched as they trailed down his back. For the most part, the blue blood was easily rinsed off. But grime mixed with the substance created a more thick gunk of a liquid, sticking to his skin and hair. He was practically covered in it, needing a gentle scrub to remove it all.

“Can I wash your hair now?” You asked, pointing the detachable shower head away from him.

“Yes.”

His voice was still a low rumble, barely audible next to the sound of rushing water through rusty pipes.

With a gentle tug and reassuring words, you tilted his head back. His eyes were closed, face still stained with dirt and blood. You would get to that in a moment.

You rinsed his hair, combing gently with your fingers to remove what you can.

Connor's eyes were still closed, but with each passing of your hands through his hair made the harsh furrow in his brow slowly disappear. The worry lines in his face melted at your touch and his LED quickly flashed a welcoming blue before dropping back to yellow. He was starting to feel better.

You popped open the shampoo, giving a few quick smacks against your palm to try and squeeze out what ever was left of the emptying bottle. You soon had enough and began to work the cucumber scented soap into his synthetic hair.

You let Connor straighten out his poster while working the shampoo in. He soon began to roll his head, allowing you to reach better behind his ears or at the back of his head. You focused on the ways his muscles contracted and loosened. How each fiber worked to support his body much like any other human. It was interesting, amazing, even.

“Can you put your head back again? I'm gonna rinse of the soap.” You asked him, a little more confidence in your voice.

He did as you asked, awaiting the warm spray of water to his hair. And so you did, gently combing through his strands once more, watching the tinted water run down his back and into the drain.

You kept rinsing until the water ran clear. Luckily, it didn't take long. So you shifted on your knees, positioning yourself to better reach his front.

Connor opened his eyes, watching as you struggled outside the tub to find a comfortable position. Before he could say anything, you brought the nozzle forward, giving him a gentle smile.

“Can I wash your face?” You asked, warm eyes looking at him in a way he's never seen before. No one ever looked at him like this, no one even wanted to look at him. He was an android, and yet you looked at him like a human. Why?

“Yes.” He answered, voice wavering for just a moment. Your eyebrows twitched in worry, but he leaned in, helping you to better reach him.

You struggled to reach across him for another bottle, face wash. You used it to remove your makeup, but you assumed it would work well against the grime stuck to his face.

Squeezing a generous amount onto your hand, you lathered the product into his cheeks, taking note of the way his face feels. It stretches like human skin with each swipe of your hands, his freckled cheeks feel poreless, though. Not a single flaw or imperfection could be felt. It was strange, though, that they took the time to add moles and freckles to his skin. All the while keeping any other impurities away.

The dirt and blue blood gave way, floating above soap suds and removing their hold on Connor's skin.

“Okay, hold your breath and keep your eyes closed for me.” You asked of him.

“I can actively hold my breath for hours, should the need arise.” Connor commented. You let out a laugh.

“Well, we don't need that now. Just for a few seconds, okay?” You clarified.

“Okay.” He answered.

You aimed the nozzle at his hairline, letting the running water rise away the soap and debris.

You rubbed against his cheeks again, scrubbing away any stubborn pieces. It was a little difficult, however, because certain spots you were actually rubbing against his darker freckles.

But soon his face was free of blue blood and dirt, and so you aimed the water away again, letting him breathe and open his eyes.

“How's that feel?” You asked, watching him blink away the water.

“Clean.” He replied. A standard answer. But little did you know, he wasn't talking about his body.

His LED was a more steady blue, but every now and then would flash back to yellow.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You asked cautiously, worried that the question would throw him back into the quiet abyss of his mind.

You grabbed the wash cloth again, bringing it under his neck and down to his collar bones. Connor kept his eyes on your face, watching the gentle furrow between your brows as you wiped away the dirt.

“The deviant,” Connor started. “...He shot himself.”

You paused your work, looking up at him with a worried glance. He was staring forward this time, no longer focusing on you. You chose to continue wiping at his skin, allowing him the comfort to tell his story without your scrutinizing glare.

“I was—he had information. So I probed his memory.” Connor explained. You wiped away at more blue blood, this time on the front end of his wound. You could see right through him, and yet he seemed unbothered. “I was... I...”

He struggled to answer, you watched his LED go from blue back down to yellow, flashing quickly to red a few blinks. He was falling back into that place again.

“Hey, it's okay, you don't have to explain.” You whispered to him, brushing away wet locks from his forehead. The feathered touches made him lean in, trying to catch more pressure. He liked the feeling of your hands he realized, the way they dragged so gently over his freckles. Unusual, he thought, pleasure wasn't written in his original program. Must be an adaptation.

Connor looked up at you, his face trapped between your palms. “I think... I have to.”

You ran a thumb over his cheeks, giving a smile as a silent approval to continue.

“He died...while I was still connected.” He stared into your eyes as he spoke, gentle brown hues flaked with gold. He had wonderful eyes, you realized. “I felt it. It was like... I died.”

He grasped your hand, still over his cheek. You felt him press against you even further, desperately.

“I felt... fear.” He admitted. It was as if he was opening his heart to you, letting you in to view his deepest and darkest feelings. But that was the scariest part, he wasn't supposed to have feelings. “Am I deviant?”

You held his gaze. Absorbed the very way he desperately asked for an answer though his eyes, the tightening grip on your hand with fear. He was scared to even know what you'd say. That, in itself, should have answered his question.

“I don't know, Connor.” You tried to assure, leave this issue for another day. For now, you wanted him to be rid of these thoughts, rid of the evidence on his body. “I think... only you know the answer to that.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp, running your fingers through wet locks once more. His eyes slowly shut, allowing the gentle massage to calm him. The red turned back to yellow, eventually blinking into a steady blue.

You aimed the nozzle back to his chest, rinsing away the work you had left. If only his problems washed away as easily.

Taglist: i love you jowan you the only one on my list lmao @jowanwan

#detroid become human #dbh #connor #connor dbh #connor x reader #reader insert #reader #self insert #connor rk800 #rk800 #water #writing #fanfic #fan fiction #human!reader

[foxstens]

well damn. guess it’s over

#my posts #liveblogging #animanga #tag 4 #tag 5 #liveblogging jojo part 7 #its like........... a trillion/10 #as much as each part is better than the last this one is the only one that i have no complaints about #i feel that it has the right amount of everything #characters-wise its definitely the best #everything is great i love everyone #diego best boy ever #and funny valentine is lowkey a better villain than kira #and now im just left to count down the days until we get an adaptation #so that everyone can experience this perfection #d a m n #i feel changed #aaaa #also btw #i was kind of in trouble the entire time cause i didnt know what music to listen to #but part 2's ost goes surprisingly well with it #i even made a playlist with all the sad songs from that part #just for the last 4 volumes #was great #and i guess now i can dive into fan content

[go-whump-in-the-night]

Backstory for my OC, Ren (back when he was still Tsubasa), about his last evening as a bunraku puppet at the Komorebi Club, and his introduction to Yuudai, the ex-yakuza who rescued him. Pretty dark whump followed by a rare comfort moment! Yay! Word count: 2641 TW: implied/referenced noncon, implied/referenced self-harm, referenced suicide attempt

  The transdermal patch was pressed into the back of the puppet’s neck, just below his hairline, and microscopic pins pressed into the grooves worn in his skin. Almost immediately, the dizzying sensation of the drug began swirling around Tsubasa’s head, and he felt himself growing nauseous.

“Lay him down. Tilt his head to the side.”

The pale young man watched as his view changed, limply slumping back on the bed’s dark brown silky blankets , then looking over to his left as large, cool hands turned his face in that direction. The light from the artificial treetops danced across the suite’s wall. He had been told by Minami-sama that this light was a simulation of the light one might see breaking through the treetops on a sunny day.

Tsubasa wondered what sunlight was like. He had been told it was warm. A warm light. He could barely comprehend that concept.

People were talking, softly, as if aware that Tsubasa listened in on the conversations of the management here as often as he could. Other than the personasofts, it was his only source of information.

He strained his ears to listen even as he felt his limbs growing weaker, even his lungs having slight difficulty expanding.

“This is not good. If Minami-san knew how close he came today...he’d have our skins.”

“Minami-san won’t know. Minami-san won’t find out. The only ones who know are you and I.”

“Yeah, but the cameras-”

“There aren’t any cameras in the suites, dumbass. Same reason he’s got that data filter in his head. “

“What did he even use? There was a lot of blood, but...there’s nothing he could’ve stabbed himself with, is there?”

“...I think he used his teeth.”

The pair of Yakuza fell silent and Tsubasa trailed his dark eyes down to look at his hand, which lay limply in front of his face. His wrist was wrapped in clean, white bandages.

After a moment, one of the guards said, “He couldn’t’ve actually killed himself, though. He’s weak, even without the Dopadrine.”

“That’s by design. But even then, him getting hurt at all is bad news, and if he was actually aware while he did it…”

“It was a glitch with the ‘soft. I’m sure it was. Don’t get so fuckin’ ominous.”

“Let’s just get ‘im put away and then try to figure out a way to explain this to Minami-san.”

Hands grabbed hold of Tsubasa, one pair under his arms, one at his legs. He felt limp and numb, nausea still swirling around his stomach. The group moved through one of the doors, carved with the shape of a maple leaf on its front, and into another warm-coloured hallway. Dark mahogany floors, burnt orange walls, and that ever-present dancing light, that dappled light of the sun through trees.

They brought Tsubasa to his room and put him on the bed. The door locked behind them as the pair left.

Darkness. Darkness. Darkness.

This room was so dark it seemed endless. Dark. An eternal blackness; no smell, no taste, no texture. Just a blackness so deep that Tsubasa could not see if his eyes were opened or closed.

Slowly, numbly, he raised a hand to his face, holding it in front of his eyes. He couldn’t see it. Then he moved it back to the back of his neck, feeling the silicone patch over his spine. He ran his fingers over its surface, smoother than the skin underneath.

Time didn’t pass here. It was soundproofed. He had seen it with the light from the hallway outside, enough to know that it would, under normal circumstances, be a nice, if spartan, room. His bed was firm but not uncomfortable, and there was room to walk around.

Tsubasa wasn’t in here enough to grow stir-crazy, but sometimes he wondered what the less-popular bunraku went through, in here for hours, even days, not even put on display so that they might have a chance to get out of the darkness.

Foolishness, thought Tsubasa. I’m always in the darkness. Even when I’m out there in those swirling, false lights, even when I’m surrounded by people, it’s dark. I can’t see anything. Nothing.

Nothing.

No

thing….

Tsubasa shut his eyes again.  He listened to the dull throb of his head, feeling it washing around his head like the ocean. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing them gently. His fingers felt cold, tingly. In fact, he could hardly feel them at all. They kept this area cold, and Tsubasa didn’t know if it was to save money or to somehow keep the dolls more docile.

Maybe people are like food, Tsubasa thought sardonically to himself. Perhaps we last longer if we’re kept cold.

He regretted the thought almost immediately. Tsubasa felt sick.

Nauseous.

He felt as if his limbs weighed a million tons.

He didn't know how long he was in there for, as his thoughts spun around in his drowsy mind. Premeditated suicide was not a luxury Tsubasa was allowed; he didn't spend enough time in his own head to make those sorts of plans.

He hadn't gone into that room with the idea of killing himself. It had just happened. He had been put in one of the luxury suites, and was waiting for the personafix chip to be activated. He had felt a dull dread deep in his chest, pulling and tugging like a fish-hook.

And he had looked down at his pale, slender wrist, seeing the delicate blue veins beneath the flawless skin. A hatred had risen up in him, a loathing for that perfect skin, for that carefully cultivated body that felt as if it belonged to someone else.

He felt trapped in his skin.

He felt imprisoned here. In the darkness. In his body. He wished he could be free of it. Of all of it. Now, before his mind was entrapped in itself again. Before that cell door was implanted in his skin and he became someone else.

There was a tearing, a taste of hot coppery liquid, a startlingly brilliant red flashing out against Tsubasa’s pale arm. Red rushing out at him, washing out that darkness.

But Tsubasa was never far from one of Minami’s men, and too soon, he was being restrained, held down, the drug patch pressed into his neck. Everything slowed down, and he watched through a haze as his arm was stitched up and bandaged.

A click of the maglock on the door broke Tsubasa out of his thoughts; he looked over in the direction of the noise, flinching at the sudden light as the door slid open.

“Tsubasa. This will not happen again.”

Minami’s voice never wavered from the calm cadence that he always spoke in, the voice of a man who had flags in a lot of different mountains, and knew few people were foolish enough to try to plant their own. He was a professional, a businessman, and Tsubasa was both fascinated by and terrified of him.

“My men tell me it was a malfunction with your personafix chip that caused this little incident,” said Minami, “But I'm not a fool, and nor, do I think, are you. The chip hadn't been activated yet, had it?”

Tsubasa was silent, just lying on his side and staring at the wall.

“Answer me,” a slight edge worked its way into Minami’s voice.

“No, sir.”

“Precisely,” Minami continued, voice calm once more, “Let’s not have any reservations with each other. I am well aware of how intuitive you are, how adaptive. It’s what makes you such a valuable asset to Komorebi. None of the other bunraku have lasted as long and provided such good results. You are consistently the most requested offering in this company. You are one of our selling points, and it’s precisely because of how durable your mind is, how resilient.

You know all this, Tsubasa.”

Tsubasa nodded, shutting his eyes. This was the most he could recall Minami ever saying to him. Fear gripped his chest like a vice.

“I have offered you a certain amount of freedom which the other bunraku do not receive, because I have interest in maintaining your position as my top selling item. However, what you did this evening, and what you were attempting to do, has made me reconsider this. You are the only bunraku at the Komorebi Club to be given occassional recess from your personafix software. I believed that this would preserve you for many more years. I believed that I was securing an investment. I have decided to rectify this mistake.”

Tsubasa’s eyes snapped open, and he looked over at Minami, heart pounding.

“Your personafix chip will be activated permanently, and you will be kept on Dopadrine when not working,” Minami’s voice had gone quiet, icy, “Your body is mine, Tsubasa. Literally, legally, and up until now I have allowed you to continue using it. But I will not tolerate you damaging my property. You will continue to live and earn money for this company until I decide I no longer have need of you.”

Minami said, “It is regrettable. You had been surprisingly good at resisting the mental strain of the personafix chip. Your original personality wasn't even entirely  undesirable. It's deeply regrettable that it will have to be locked inside that mind of yours from now on. Deeply regrettable.” He took a step backwards, hands clasped in front of him, watching Tsubasa for a moment. Then, with a quick turn on his heel, Minami stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Tsubasa was shut into the darkness again, trembling, his freshly-stitched wrist tingling slightly.

As the young dark-haired man lay on his bed, he listened to the sounds of the Komorebi Club closing for the evening. Tsubasa wondered what it would be like, to no longer be himself, ever again. To think his last lucid thought and then be gone.

Was Tsubasa the body? Or was Tsubasa the mind? Will I still be Tsubasa when I’m gone? Will this body still have my name?

He looked up at the ceiling, throat burning as he tried to keep his repressed sobs silent. He had to take in as much as he could. As much sound as possible. As much smell, as much sight.

Would this be what the rest of his life was like? Locked forever in the darkness of his own mind, unable to act, only able to watch as he was used by the patrons of this business? Unable even to scream?

He felt the warmth of tears streaming down the sides of his face and into his hairline as he looked up at the black ceiling, so dark it may have been endless.

He listened to the noises of the Club’s activities slowly transition from afternoon to evening to early morning. The sounds of talking and drinking, of soft music and footsteps. These transitioned into hushed conversations in Japanese, and to Minami in particular, speaking to his men. Then, hours later, the doors of the building being closed and locked, and the very faintest noise of a car driving away.

It was still so dark. He placed a hand over his face, feeling the cool skin, shutting his eyes and inhaling a pained gasp of air. How many more movements would be of his own command? How many more thoughts would be acted on? How long would it be before he no longer could remember who he used to be?

What if this isn’t who I was born as? What if they created this personality, too? What if Tsubasa is as much a fiction as the rest of them? As fake as this skin and this damned room?

Who am I?

Who are my parents? Do I even have any? Do they know I’m here? 

Did they sell me to Minami? 

His chest hurt, as if the Dopadrine was actually impeding his ability to breathe. It hurt...his chest...his heart...he wanted to scream and claw at his skin, to rip apart Tsubasa, because Tsubasa was what Minami wanted. He wanted to destroy the body these men paid so much money for. He wanted to rip himself apart until there was nothing but his mind.

This body is just a vessel. 

My mind. My mind is who I am. I can’t lose my mind. They can’t take my mind. They can’t take it. They can’t take my mind.

 This body isn’t me. This body isn’t me. This body is a vessel. My mind is me. They can’t take it. They can’t. I can’t lose this, too-

A loud crack sounded in the tiny room and Tsubasa’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the door, around which he could suddenly see just the tiniest crack of light, as if it had been pushed slightly in. How the hell-

As Tsubasa thought this, another loud report sounded as the door visibly shook. Tsubasa shook, his breathing hitched; but he couldn’t move. The drug patch in his neck...he couldn’t even lift his head.

With one final, startling crash, the thick, reinforced door slammed open, banging against the wall as it was pushed inward. Tsubasa flinched, a brilliant blue light driving into his eyes.

Light. Light. Light.

A beautiful...brilliant blue light.

“Get up. Come on, quick, kid. We gotta go.”

A voice was sounding from the source of the light, a terse, but not frightened voice. He was speaking Japanese, very informal Japanese, and he sounded fairly young, though Tsubasa wasn’t sure how young. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the figure.

“Come on,”said the man, stepping into the room. Bright blue lights illuminated the tiny space; the figure was tall and lean, muscular. He was wearing a semi-opaque, skintight black mesh shirt, black PVC pants and tall, heavy neon blue boots. He was Japanese, pure Japanese, obviously, and...he was so vivid. So bright. Bright fiberoptic cyberdreads, bright neon lines running down his arms to pvc fingerless gloves. An unsheathed katana stringed with matching LEDs was on his toned shoulder, and his eyes: intent, but also excited, and a beautiful glowing blue.

“Wh...what…?”

“Are you deaf?” the man frowned, looking legitimately confused, “We’re going. I’m rescuing you. Get it?”

Tsubasa stared dumbly at the man, unable to understand his words. He was clearly speaking Japanese, but it didn’t make sense. Going? Rescue? Had Tsubasa gone completely mad?

“What...do you mean...going?” asked Tsubasa softly, brows furrowed.

The man rocked back on forth on his heels slightly, and then he grinned, and the grin was more blindingly beautiful than anything Tsubasa had ever seen. It had no malice in it, no cruelty, no lust. Just...excitement. Tsubasa would almost call it...joy.

Then he said, “Listen, I’ve been working here for a while, and I’ve decided I need some good karma. I’m breaking you out, okay, and leaving,” he frowned a bit, “What does it matter why? Just get up and come on.”

“I don’t...I mean...that is, I can’t…”

“Eh?”

“The drugs...the patch on my neck...I don’t think I can move...I’m sorry…”

The man tilted his head to the side, then crouched, glancing around at the back of Tsubasa’s neck; the younger man felt as if his skin had warmed by a good ten degrees.

“Dopadrine?” the dread-locked man sounded dismayed, “They give you guys Dopadrine??”

Tsubasa shrugged, frowning lightly.

“Fuck, they give that crap to orcs. I’m surprised you’re even conscious. Alright…”

He crouched, and in a swift motion, lifted Tsubasa onto his back, hooking his arms around the young man’s legs and draping his arms around his neck.

“I’m Yuudai, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Tsu…”

“Huh? What?”

“No, I...I don’t have one.”

Yuudai fell silent for a moment, then laughed lightly, looking over at the boy and grinning. That grin made Tsubasa feel like he was flying.

“Well, why don’t you start thinking of one?” asked Yuudai, “A new name. A new start.”

#whump #emotional whump #referenced/implied noncon #tw self harm #self harm tw #suicide mention #dehuminization #slavery #mind control #captivity #blood #drugged #caregiver #rescue #vulnerable #sensory deprivation #my oc #ren

[elizadoolittlethings]

An Interview with Mark Gatiss

October 12, 2015

Mark Gatiss is a man who has made a career of developing his childhood passions: Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes, comedy, classic literature, Gatiss has done them all. With work as a screenwriter, actor, novelist and showrunner under his belt, Gatiss's illustrious career has been varied, but one thing has remained steadfast throughout his working life; his love of the dark and unsettling.

At a fundraiser for Darlington Police Memorial Fund on Ocotober 3rd 2015, Gatiss told of how Sherlock has changed his life, how he'd warmly welcome a female Doctor, his lifelong goal to play Jacob Marley and the mysterious gifts he has received from fans. After the event, Gatiss was kind enough to sit down with Shadows at the Door to discuss M.R. James and all things horror. SATD: You did a lot to raise the profile of M.R. James with new audiences with your adaptation of The Tractate Middoth and the accompanying documentary. Do you feel James is as recognised as much as other contemporaries such as Lovecraft? MG: He's the master(!), he's absolutely preeminent and rightly regarded as so. And well, you know the only problem I found with that is when I did Crooked House. They (the BBC) asked me to do an M.R. James and I said that I'd just like to do some new ones, because in a way, he becomes the default. It's a bit like whenever they list the greatest films ever made, it's so often Citizen Kane and people get a bit bored it it. James is clearly the best that's ever been, and people sometimes think 'Oh is he? Yes he is actually!'. But in fact what you want to do is kind of mix it up a bit, and that's all I wanted to do. Tractate came about because they asked me to do the documentary, and I said I'd love to but I'm too busy. But they kept asking and I just thought I'd chance my arm and said I'd do it one condition: let me write and direct a new adaptation and they said yes! Only trouble is that I'd love to do it every year and they haven't asked! And yes, James is incredible but i'd love there to be a broader field for others, such as Sheridan Le Fanu and all those that came after him. He was the best but it would be nice to mix it up a bit and if there were more of them it would be easier-- we could do with an anthology series, really. SATD: Yeah, the Ghost Story for Christmas series is quite sporadic at best, each year we look for it in the listings and it's never there. Is it quite a fight to get the BBC to do another one? MG: Yes it is. I would do one very year until I dropped dead. In fact, I want to do Count Magnus.I'd love to do some more, it's a tough sell because it's a short format and in the 70s it was so easy. The documentary was made via BBC Arts and it was like making one in the 70s, I was left on my own. But essentially, what I'd have to do to make that work is replicate it: do a documentary on someone along with an adaptation, and I can't do James again. But Funnily enough-- no wait, I won't say that because I'll jinx it(!) but it could work again. But it's difficult, it's all about money and ratings and it's a difficult slot whereas if you could make four or five of them together you could make a little series of them but that's expensive. SATD: Do you think that's something that could realistically happen? MG: Maybe. It's just increasingly difficult.

SATD: You're a fan of H.G. Wells too, is that someone whose work you'd try to push with the BBC?

MG:  Yeah but I tell you what, rejoice! Because the great Graham Duff has just done a serise of four Wells adaptations for Sky, I've seen them and they're fantastic! He's done The Purple Pileus-- the one about mushrooms-- and The Moth. But the particularly brilliant one stars Micheal Gambon, the name escapes me (Mark cries in frustration), but its just brilliant! It's about a dying old man who's looking an heir because he has n children, it's very sinister and it's fantastic. THey're all directed by Adrian Shergold and they so much capture the spirit of mid-70s horror, they're just really well done so look forward to that. SATD: Sounds fantastic! So moving onto Doctor Who, a lot of your episodes in particular have elements of horror to them. Is this something to comes to you naturally or is it just owed more to Doctor Who's gothic origins?

MG: Well horror is my bent, and to me Doctor Who has always been frightening. My principle memories of a child are being scared by it, it's in the DNA of Doctor Who. But obviously it depends on the story, The Crimson Horror for example is a northern gothic love letter and others are more traditional scares. A Martian in a Russian submarine for example, you just can't do that in any other show, I've yet to see it in Midsummer...

SATD: Speaking of The Crimson Horror, I've got to ask: were there elements of Hillary Briss (Gatiss's demented butcher character from The League of Gentlemen), in the character of the the undertaker?

MG: Oh yeah! He licked his lips a lot, didn't he? I tell who I really wanted for that part, Graham Fellows who plays John Shuttleworth. I really tried to get him but it didn't work out, I think we would have been perfect for that. What does he say? (Mark adopts a thick Yorkshire accent) 'White as the top of Buckton Pike!" (laughs). SATD: In other interviews you've said that you're fatigued by the sheer quantity of modern horror films.

MG: That's true! I was just thinking about this the other day: the absolute constant for me is ghosts, but other things can wax and wane. Personally, I think its now all a bit over saturated. Its a bit like super hero movies, theres too many and you start to get weary. Weirdly, its sort of like the old Chinese curse, be careful what you wish for. There are so many shows now, that are just hyper-gothic, steampunk-y, and Im just a bit saturated.

Therefore, like food or wine your tastes change and your palette changes so now I've gone in a slightly different direction. I used to think nothing could exist without waistcoats and bubbling test tubes and now Im actually more interested in modern horror; the gothic but in a modern context. I dont think it has to be about the old and obviously I still love it but it doesnt have to be about candelabra and castles. You can get the same feeling from modern methods, and in a way that is more frightening. The story which by consensus is the most successful in Crooked House, is the one which is in Barratt home because its like; 'Oh this is horrible because it might actually happen!'.

SATD: So have there been any recent films that have pleasantly surprised you?

MG: Well the problem is, and I was just talking to Simon Pegg about this, its like an addict always searching for their first hit. And whenever someone says; 'Oh my god have you seen x?' like The Babadook, which I really enjoyed, but I found it was much more interesting when it was a very harrowing story about that women going mad. The gothic touches left me cold, and I wondered why they were suddenly doing Poltergeist? Thats not what this story is about, the idea of a woman losing her mind because her child is unstable was really scary but in a different kind of way. (sigh) I suppose Im always just waiting for The Thing, really.

SATD: You have a part in the new Victor Frankenstein movie; does that feel surreal now that you're in a horror movie?

MG: All I can think of is; whats taken so long? But yeah, it was a delight. I only have a small part, and it only took a few days. Paul McGuigan, the chief Sherlock director asked me to do it and it was, you know, a really fucking huge Frankenstein laboratory! And I get to pull the lever and everything! There was a bit when I was going up an iron lift with Freddie Fox and it was all outdoors and raining I mean absolutely lashing with freezing cold rain and I said to Freddie; 'This isnt like being in Frankenstein, this is Frankenstein!' (laughs). And it doesnt get any better than that!

SATD: Do you get to ham it up then?

MG: Well, wait and see! (laughs)

SATD: Well, Mark thank you very much!

MG: Not at all, its been an absolute pleasure.

wanted to know about his Frankenstein role :) though didn’t get to see him much - think they edited a lot

also, for me too “..the absolute constant for me is ghosts, but other things can wax and wane.”

#Mark Gatiss

[alotta-lovin]

“I Don’t Matter.” - GP N’ FP Canon

I’m okay, im just in the mood for some angst to get some things off my chest-- dont mind me.

Warning(s) : Fighting, Angst, PTSD Mention, Self Hatred, Abuse Mention, Conflicting feelings and trying not to push certain emotions/wants/needs onto the other.(Fluff??????), Realizing feelings?

Word Count : 1,731

Ship : Gun Powder n’ Flower Petals

A/N : There are actually some contents of my past mentioned in this and one of the reasons why i have PTSD, though due to having to change some things as the “parent’s” my SI has are actually based off my Step Mom and Dad. / There are mentions of a song in this, but the lyrics mentioned were actual things said to me. / Yes my actual birthday was mentioned in this. 

Sunny C. Age who gives a fuck and no one needs to know. No one needed to know her last name and no one needed to know her age. adult hood hit her sooner than it should’ve when she was just a kid so age shouldn’t matter in the first place right? that is until certain dates roll around.

It had finally hit Sunny. she was getting older and in just a four to three months the dreaded day was going to come. September 6th. the worst day she could think of aside from all the holidays that were always ruined due to her “family”.

Rubbing her neck with her right hand as her left stayed on the steering wheel she was nudged by the man sitting next to her. This man was named Dean Winchester. Looking over at him she let her arm wrest on the center console as she cocked her eyebrow, “What?” she let out a bit abruptly as she kept her eyes on the road after a minute of him just. looking at her with that look, that look that she knew he had when he had questions. “Don’t “what” me, somethin’ is wrong. now drop it.” he seemed to almost snap at her. rolling her eyes a bit as she bit the tip of her tongue almost in annoyance. letting out a groan, she huffed and spoke up nodding almost in a sarcastic way. “A’ight, wanna know what’s wrong? the dreaded thing called a “Birthday” is gonna roll around here soon and i’m more than likely going to drink like it’s the end of the fucking world, more than likely get drunk because of it and fuck up my liver cause i don’t wanna remember that day. happy now?” she almost snapped that last part out as she looked at him.

Now Dean on the other hand, didn’t and hasn’t known why she hates her birthday so much, the past few years that they spent around each other each time it was her birthday she wanted it ignored and acted like it was any normal day. Why though? she never answered why. Inhaling sharply he nodded a bit to respond and he knew that she was ticked now due to the fact she was speeding when she normally didn’t and how easy it was to send her off the edge with just simply asking “whats wrong”.

Hours later after the music was turned up almost to a deafening caliber. and Sunny loudly screaming she opened the door to the hotel room and tossed her bag onto her bed and sat down for a minute rubbing her face. Dean followed suit behind her and shut the door behind them, dropping his bag on the floor he took his jacket off and put it on the hook. she hadn’t talked to him since he asked her why she was ticked off. biting his lip he groaned and just snapped.

“What the hell has you bent so fucking out of shape about the day that brought you into this fuckin’ world huh? Why are you going to try and drink yourself to death each fucking time it comes around-”

“Shut the fuck up, Winchester.” she snapped back, glaring daggers at him as she stood up, clenching her fists with her keys in hand as her back straightened out. “Excuse me? You never talk about it! you never fuckin’ talk about anything in your life prior to runnin’ into Sammy n’ I! yet some how Sammy knows more than I do!”

“Cause it’s not any of your damned business what happened back then alright?! you don’t need to know about my trauma, my baggage, everything that makes me hate myself and i’m not going to let you fuckin’ stand there and demand you know! Sammy only know’s cause i told him when i was finally comfortable doing so, you fuckin’ asshole!”

“I’m the asshole? Why the hell aren’t you comfortable telling me? huh? is it cause you think i’m not good enough?”, at this point. Dean has puffed up his chest and his cheeks n’ ears were getting red and he was clearly getting more and more pissed off that she wasn’t telling him why. why she didn’t wanna tell him. why she told Sammy, and not him. why Jodie seemed to make sure and ask if she was having “certain episodes” every time they saw each other and all this other crap that he seemed out of the dark.

“BECAUSE DEAN YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING. YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW HOW MUCH MY PAST HAS MADE ME HATE MYSELF. HOW MUCH MY PAST HAS SHOWN ME AND TOLD ME I DON’T MATTER!”

“But it’s so important for me to know you have PTSD?” he crossed his arms and glared back at her. unclenching her fists she dropped her keys, almost like dropping a pin to a bomb, it set her off.

“Alright, you wanna know why it was so important for me to tell you I have PTSD?? why i got so mad when you brought me back? Fine. fucking fight. here’s your wish fuckin’ come true, dipshit.”

before he had time to respond she had already started talking. “I had to grow up at 5, and play “Mommy” to two kids who weren’t mine. in fact they were my little sisters. cause my parents didn’t wanna play parents anymore. and after the age of 7, my birthday wasn’t celebrated anymore cause “it’s not important”. every time i slipped up i was yelled at. or worse hit. later on after i turned seven after meeting with a counselor at school with some how convincing them to not tell my parents i had seen them, i was diagnosed with PTSD due to thing’s i don’t wanna mention aside from the fucking shit show i’ve already talked about.” at this point she had stepped forward and was glaring pins and daggers at him at this point. once more before he could speak she cut him off.

“ “You’re such a fucking waste of skin. Faith.” “You’re one of gods mistakes, Faith. Remember that.” “honestly you’ve ruined my life, Faith” “stop acting as if you matter to anyone Faith.” “ with each saying she said she took another step forward and looked him dead in the eye and snapping with a deep voice that seemed to be a way to protect herself while her lip quivered and was clearly trying not to cry. “Now imagine being told all of that on a daily basis until you were 18. since you were fucking 3. that’s my earliest memory.”

“And you know what, i truly believe they were right. I. Don’t. Matter. I don’t matter enough to have my birthday celebrated. i don’t matter enough to have a normal fucking thanks giving, Christmas, new years, forth of july. none of it. i don’t matter enough. that’s why i try and drink myself to death every fucking time my birthday rolls around.” finishing her sentence almost with certainty in her voice she took a few steps back and sat on her bed, hunched over, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. a slow shakey breath was let out as she tapped her foot. this. This is what Jodie meant by “Certain episodes”. those certain episodes were PTSD episodes. 

at this point you can imagine how much of a dumbass and a dick Dean felt. his mouth sat slightly open as he was shocked that she just let it all spill out. though he knew it wasn’t all of it. but he wasn’t going to push. she wasn’t ready for all of that, the whole reason she didn’t wanna tell him was because she was trying to keep herself from going into an episode. “Dammit...” a tone slipped past his lips as he walked over to her and picked her up bridal style and crawled onto the bed and set her in his lap, holding her tight to his chest with his chin on her head. “Thats why you go by, Sunny now... it makes sense now.. i-- i shouldn’t have pushed you. i really shouldn’t have pushed you.. you were right though, i guess i am an ass.”

After an hour of sitting there trying to calm her down, her shaking finally calmed down, she could speak normally, though her speech was still slurred and a bit lispy still. letting out a shakey breath she looked at him and furrowed her brow a bit almost in a worried way “I-- i don’t get why you brought me back... i shouldn’t be here--” she was quickly cut off with a large hand on her cheek and turning her to face to look directly at him. she she was looking at him before but she wasn’t actually doing so. she was avoiding eye contact. “No. you should be here. thats why we brought you back. i-- We weren’t going to lose another person we cared about. not again..”

Sunny’s heart nearly jumped into her mouth as she looked at him wide eyed. surprised to high heavens and back that she was actually cared for by the two notorious Winchesters, by the one man she could actually adapt romantic feelings for, Dean. it took everything in her to not plant a kiss on his lips. everything.

Though little did she know he was trying everything to not kiss her as well, he didn’t know why but for some reason with her in his lap, and the way she was looking at him was making his heart do things he hadn’t felt in a while.

“what the hell--” passed through his head, almost zoned out before he snapped back to find she wasn’t in his lap anymore and actually across the room with her bag in hand and heading into the bathroom “I’m-- I’m gonna shower... thank you for calming me down.”

“No Problem--” he watched as the door shut only to rub his face and rest his head against the headboard. “God dammit....and we have to share a room the rest of the case...” a loud groan escaped his throat as he got up off the bed she claimed and sat on his trying to figure out if it was just a momentary thing.. or maybe it’s been something more. for a long time.

#alotta-writing #Gun Powder n' Flower Petals #Gun Powder n' Flower Petals Mention #Gun Powder n' Flower Petals Canons #Dean #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester Mention #Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural self insert #/ptsd mention #/fighting #/angst #/self hatred tw #/abuse tw #Alotta-Personal Things #self insert #self ship #might delete later #due to-- reasons. #Alotta-Venting

[uldren-sov]

meeting

SHE CALLED I JUST ANSWERED

Nioven belongs to @makeramidying and they were kind of enough to let me do this with my kind of first serious attempt at writing after a bunch of shit so i apologize if im a bit rusty Elora is mine <3

summary: Jedi and Sith fight and have fun doing it :) warning for violence

The Jedi raised her white blade high over her head with a deflection as Elora caught and allowed herself to skid into a wide stance and to a halt just some twenty feet in front of her. No matter what her soldiers had called her, the Jedi before her was certainly no Knight.

“You deserve a raise,” she called out suddenly. She felt her lips curl, unbidden, into a half-cocked grin as her foe’s own twitched and she had to fight the smile off as well.

“I’d say tell them that, but I doubt it’d really help things!” The Mirialan re-positioned herself and fixed the grip on her saber. There was a fire in her eyes, in her strikes and moves that Elora could not help but, as a fighter, be drawn to. There was a pride behind every one of the Jedi’s swings, she could see the righteous wrath that fueled her as clear as day. Elora recognized that drive, that anger, that burn for an engagement to prove something - maybe not to anyone else but herself. She recognized it because she saw it every day when she looked in the mirror, felt it every moment she fought.

She panted softly as she spun her blades, once, one after the other, in her hands and started to circle casually around her. The Jedi’s version of Juyo - as her opponent was using - was stilted, almost defensive, it lacked the rawness to let go and utterly dominate the opponent. She could work with that and more to the point the Jedi knew she could as well.

She was being watched with the focus only a Jedi could muster, though - something that time and time again got her in trouble. A tilt to her head, a narrowing of her light eyes that pulled on the tattoos on her cheeks and she recognized the peacocking for what it was. As a result, she drew her foot out, made a line in the dirt, and stepped back, sinking back down into her stance - white blade high and reflecting off the white of her armor.

That’s the line, just try and cross it.

Elora took the taunt, extinguished her dual blades, and vanished. She watched as immediately the Jedi’s stance changed, a lower guard, a higher stance - one she can more readily react to a wide berth of attacks upon her. Any normal Knight might have been slow to adapt, she? She was certainly different, even as she closed her eyes to focus her senses now on just where Elora may be. She kept scanning the horizon, checking her blind spots with her mind.

She kept shrouded almost near to the end of her ability before she surged forward. A twist, a kick up, and while the Jedi may have been checking around her, she certainly did not check above. She she yelled with the effort as her focus broke and she appeared just above the Jedi, igniting her blades - about to neatly decapitate the Jedi from the spinning momentum with a slash from her mainhand. But the Jedi’s instincts were true as she had enough time to block the slash handily. Which Elora was counting on. She stabbed down with the second blade hoping to find purchase in her shoulder when the block, instead, was more of an overhead strike, deflecting both of the sabers away as she completed her twist and landed low.

She dodged a knee to her face and parried another overhead strike as she spun back up to her feet trying to follow up with a quick stab with the Jedi’s saber deflected before she just extended her leg and caught Elora in the stomach. A tight exhale as she let the pain suffuse through her, starting another flurry of strikes but every one was systematically beaten back with the double-handed strength of her own or by the Jedi getting too in her face to strike her effectively in the first place.

After minutes of a rampant affair her arms were burning, she saw the sweat dripping off of her opponent’s olive-green complexion, as finally their blades caught and sparked with the sudden stalemate. She breathed through a fierce grin as the grim, scarred, countenance of the Jedi similarly just had to smile. They were warriors, that shared fire burned in both of them, and this? This was a hell of a blaze.

She took a gamble.

She suddenly shifted to the side, deflecting the saber off of her own two as the Jedi was set off balance. She could quickly cut back up through - she had her opening, but instead extinguished her blades, and - using the Jedi’s own leg as a perch spun to catch a hooking heel to the side of her face. She saw the sudden reversed grip on the blade as the Jedi caught her foot and absorbed most of the damage as she was sent rolling just a couple feet onto the dirt.

She didn’t use the chance to quickly follow up and in seeing the Jedi in that last moment - she could have easily just pointed her hilt her way, ignited it, and probably ran her through somewhere vital if she had so chosen to. But they didn’t. Neither of them did.

Instead they had space between them now, weapons off, and for a moment they just stared at each other, panting. She drew some hairs from her mouth as the Jedi pushed herself back up. The hair around them was electric with the promise of more carnage, more of a fight, more of this energy they both found they thrived off of. Even as the adrenaline and surge of aggression threatened to burn her until she was empty, Elora knew there was only so much farther a Jedi could go with such a style before threatening to lose something in themselves; or admit something they fought against.

So they stared each other down, caught their breath, and allowed for the dust to finally settle on the battlefield.

“Do you yield, Sith?” the Jedi called. She was the first one to speak, gulping back a breath as she kept the hilt of her white saber at the ready, blade ready to be ignited once more. Elora looked between the hilt, and those light, fierce, eyes of her opponent.

“Do you?” she questioned simply. It was a good fight, it would be a shame to destroy something that gave her such pleasure in fighting - the fierce, wide, smile still hadn’t left her face. There was a huff of something like laughter from the Jedi as she just shook her head.

“No fucking way,” she challenged. Damn, if that wasn’t enough to make her want to go for round two but - they were both unfit to continue in the fashion they wanted to.

“You’re such a good sport. I’d hate to destroy you now,” she replied. Her own hilts were warm in her hands; heavy, as well.

“Then I believe we are at an impasse,” the Jedi concluded.

There was a beat and at once they both, at the same time, returned their hilts to their belts.  The Jedi heaved a sigh and flipped her braid off of her shoulder as Elora ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back.

“What’s your name, Jedi?”

“Nioven,” she said after a moment, brushing the dirt off of her white armor as she stood tall, kept her chin raised. Proud, fierce, beautiful, Elora clicked her tongue and shook her head - good fighters are always wasted on the Jedi. “Yours?”

“Darth Aesis,” she said. After a moment she gave a sharp nod to Nioven “you may call me Elora. Nioven, you would be such a force to be reckoned with if the Jedi did not hold you back. Literally and figuratively, I imagine,” she said. It usually fell on deaf ears but she saw the annoyance of being called a Knight, the frustration in some of her strikes.

“Yeah, sure,” Nioven nodded somewhat then stared her right in the face, “but at what cost? If this is some line, I’m definitely not biting Aes - I mean - Elora. Sorry.”

“A shame,” and she meant that. There was a quick tightening of Nioven’s lips, a quick look away, maybe she was more onto something than she intended. “If that is indeed the case, you should know this will not happen again.”

“Yeah ... I know,” Nioven replied with a setting of her jaw and a fierce nod of finality. “It seems bad form to wish a Sith, especially a Darth, good luck but, uh. Maybe instead I can say: I hope to see you again, Elora. Definitely.” That fire ignited behind her eyes, one last fight, where one of them does not walk away from it.

“And I hope to never see you again,” she countered. She smirked a little and turned away, “it’ll be a damn waste for me to kill you when that time comes. The Jedi still need to find some way to keep this war interesting!” She called without turning around and heard the soft laughter from behind her.

War did, indeed, make for some interesting encounters afterall.

#SWTOR #SWTOR OC #Jedi Knight #Sith Warrior #my writing #other people's ocs #Nioven #OC: Elora

[victoryclaimedmoved]

Does my world count as a fandom... Can I pls get headcanons for lance n' Artemis & Apollo n' even vee... Pls......

♔— «« // SEND ME A FANDOM ! ;

i’ll give you five headcanons of my muse in that universe.

of course it counts as a fandom !!! you and your world owns my soul and i just ?? love it so much i cry ??? this got so long like omg || grimesucker

LANCE

we talked about it once and i think it’ll be the only time it happens, but in his time in the UC, lance has only ever killed one person – though that is always subject to change. this is after he’s been there for a while now. he did it to protect some of the slumbrats and he has nightmares about it sometimes.

despite being pulled down here and what he’s been through, he still manages to find a way to be positive?? he does suppress a lot of the negative emotions though because he doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone, especially dox after all he’s already done for him. he has a lot of masks that he wears ( mostly when he’s around other people, when he’s at work ) and even though he won’t show it, he’s not dealing well with being in the undercity.

his apartment is pretty small but it’s got enough space for what he needs it for, which is sleeping. he doesn’t really have anything of value with him because everything was left back home when he was brought down. anything that might be valuable stays at carnival with abali.

not the first time that lance gets taken, but the second time it happens ( referenced here ), he gets injected with the sauce and he’s a mess™ when dox and artemis eventually find him. he remembers bits and pieces, faces mostly, that he saw when he was still feeling the effects, but couldn’t describe any of it if he tried. all he knows is that he felt like shit, everything hurt, and his head was killing him. he’s got scratches on his arms and his knuckles are bloodied and bruised because he saw his family members and gage ( under w/e name he was using with lance ) saying things that really messed him up and he tried scratching himself to ‘wake himself up’ and punched walls to try and get them to shut up.

lance is really good at making friends. while he wouldn’t go as far to say that he knows people care about him, he has connections. he generally never starts up a friendship with the intention of having connections, it usually ends up like that one way or another. while some of them are genuine and are friendships, a majority of them stem from working at carnival.

speaking of carnival ( bc only 5?? what are limits idk ), lance is super protective of everyone who works there. he makes it a point to know who works there and even though he doesn’t HAVE to, he’d fight for all of them. tsu-tsu probably beats him to any arising problem, but he’s always there to help make sure his friends and co-workers are okay and safe.

the lion’s roar, his restaurant, is only open certain hours, working around his schedule at carnival. sometimes, if abali needs him outside of that, he’ll close down shop in order to accommodate her needs. working at the lion’s roar honestly brings him so much happiness? it’s one of the very few places where he can make his own rules, where he can let go of all the bullshit and sadness and anger and make something good for people who deserve to have good things ( even if they’re lil shits and assholes. they’re still people ). cooking makes him so happy.

ARTEMIS

artemis has a lil bit of a reputation as a fighter. she may be small but she uses that to her advantage. people underestimate her because she’s small and young ( she argues that being seventeen is old enough – six is old enough to hold a knife and stab someone ( she would know ) so ?? ). despite all of the fights she gets into, she hasn’t killed anyone aside from pippa, who was her 'aunt’ who continued to raise her and apollo after their parents were killed.

she will NEVER admit it, but she is such a sucker for true love. her parents had it and she wants it, too. but she doesn’t think she’s worthy of it or that she’d ever find anyone who would settle with her. don’t try to accuse her of being a romantic— she’ll take your eye for it and tell you to shove your accusations up your ass.

artemis kind of really looks up to dox. she’s not the greatest at admitting her feelings and generally responds with waving something sharp in response so don’t ask her about it. but if she were good at admitting her feelings and talking about them, she’d say that even though dox is a pain in the ass, he still takes the time to look out for them– all of them, as much as he can. sometimes when she’s afraid, she asks herself, “what would dox do?” and while that doesn’t always give her the greatest solution, she felt brave enough to execute her plan.

linking back to hc #2, artemis is afraid of love. she is afraid that even if she DOES find it, it won’t last. something always goes wrong. always. she doesn’t want to get her hopes up and the only way to do this is to be in control, to stop things before they get serious, before anyone can hurt her first. along with the reputation of being a fighter, she gets the reputation of being a HEARTBREAKER, breaking hearts all over the UC before they can break hers.

throws wes in here bc i love him already. wes goes by trix and is a known troublemaker. he and the twins have known each other for years and have a sort of friendly rivalry going ( no one’s stabbed each other yet ! that’s as friendly as it could get as kids ). it isn’t until after apollo gets attacked and taken that artemis and trix start to hang out more. it isn’t for the best, though, because trix is trying to bring apollo out and get him used to the changes to his nanobots, which artemis disapproves of bc they don’t know the limits of them yet or what apollo is capable of. she almost stabs trix a couple of times and punches him a few times but after a few months, idk how it happens or what the circumstances are, but they end up sleeping together and it’s a rollercoaster of emotions with them pushing and pulling, trying to avoid each other and ending up together at the end of the night and eventually they enter a relationship. as much as artemis tries not to, she feels herself falling for him harder every day and she’s terrified but — she looks at dox and lance and thinks that maybe, just maybe, she can have that too.

artemis is really into painting. she doesn’t get to do it often, but when she does, she can spend hours just creating things. she’ll use other forms of art, but painting is her favorite. she’s got a sketchbook she keeps hidden away with sketches of places and people in the undercity, she’s tagged the sides of buildings and signs. she wants to give the city something BRIGHT to look at. she likes to do landscapes but she only has pictures from books as references and because of this, she doesn’t do them too often. most of her paintings are, like her sketches, of people and buildings.

APOLLO

apollo is the softest boy ever !!!! he may be the older twin, but artemis has always been the tougher of the two. he prefers to talk things out and work through problems instead of attacking each other. that being said, he isn’t afraid to fight someone. if his sister or someone he cares about is threatened, he immediately becomes a threat, especially after his nanobots are messed with.

his dna was mixed with a wolf’s and he becomes easier to anger and is quicker to jump into fights. because of this, he wants to lay low and not bring too much attention to him and artemis. he doesn’t want her being taken too if the people who took him find out that whatever they did to him worked.

apollo doesn’t like that artemis gets into so many relationships. he doesn’t have anything against it and knows that she’s her own person making her own decisions, but he wishes she could see that she IS worthy of finding love just like anyone else if she just gives herself a chance. he’s also tired of having to get into fights every other week after she breaks up with someone.

he’s adopted a dog he named rosewood. rosewood come and goes as she pleases and always manages to show up at the door whenever apollo is leaving or getting home. after his nanobots are messed with, rosewood avoids apollo for a few weeks before she comes around again and sticks around longer than she had before.

aside from artemis, trix is his best friend. he’s the only one who’s treated apollo the same as before. there aren’t many people you could really trust with your life, but apollo trusts trix with his life— but he does sit trix down and tells him that if he hurts his sister, they’re going to fight. trix mentions that isn’t exactly fair because apollo is much stronger than him. this earns a pap to the cheek and a fond, “life’s not fair, dumbass.”

apollo gets jobs where he can when he can to try and bring in some money for him and artemis. he’s probably been approached by a few gangs?? correct me if im wrong !! but what’s happened to him isn’t common knowledge but no one would be surprised if certain people ( *cough* 5liip, abali, and maybe ??? bratch ??? *cough* ) found out and tried to recruit him bc of it?? he turns them down tho bc he does not want to get involved with that. he doesn’t want a life of fighting and war.

VEE

she is hella dangerous. she may only be fourteen but you do not want to be fighting her. she is skilled in all forms of combat and can adapt to just about any weapon given to her.

she doesn’t have any family or friends. she has no ties to anyone and very rarely gets attached to people.

she comes from one of the upper levels ! she was basically bred to be a little assassin / spy because who would suspect a child? definitely not the people she’s killed. however, something goes WRONG and she’s sent down to the undercity as punishment, which pisses her off because it wasn't her fault. then 5liip comes into the picture and she joins {BB} ( getting her brackets tattooed on the inside of her left wrist ) where she works as a spy / assassin for 5liip.

vee has ??? hella information she could give 5liip tbh?? she’s got names, codes, locations— you name it, she probably knows it. she wants to get revenge on the people who sent her down here only because they set her up for failure. she doesn’t fail. vee was probably sent to the UC to get killed but that didn’t really work out well for her former employers.

vee has to be doing something. she doesn’t like being stationary for very long. if she can’t go out or isn’t given a job to do, she can be found training.

she can mimic voices !!! all she has to do is listen to a few words the other person says and she can mimic their voices flawlessly. 5liip and lobster are the only ones who know this.

though she doesn’t show it ( bc she just doesn’t know how to ), she really enjoys the company of 5liip and lobster ; they’re the only two people she will allow to touch her without losing a finger or getting seriously injured. she tolerates the other {BB} members because she has to. she’s not really a people person.

vee doesn’t talk a lot. she communicates mostly through nods or one word responses ( “affirmative,” “negative,” etc ). though she is very intelligent, she wasn’t given much time for speaking when she was on the upper levels. she’s been taught to keep it short and simple. you don’t have to say much when you’re there to kill for the greater good.

if she’s a thing in the 1nh3r174nc3 verse, she’s gonna be. vvvvvv upset that 5liip and lobster are gone ( bc they were the only things that mattered to her ) and probably has like. the worst tantrum ever negl. she completely destroys  some room ( where at? idek tbh ) and if anyone comes near her, she’s gonna destroy them too. but once she’s. pulled herself together, she’s going to do for dox what she did for 5liip. she’s going to be a grumpier version of herself but whatever dox needs done, she’ll go out and do it. 

#grimesucker #♡—«« || asks. #♡—«« || ooc asks. #♔—«« || artemis headcanon. #♔—«« || twelve headcanon. #♔—«« || apollo headcanon. #♔—«« || lance headcanon. #long post.

[alien-bodies]

Oversharing Time!!!

(i just made that title up that’s not the official title I’m just Like That)

Ok so @frogyell​ tagged my main account (I am BLEST) but that’s for Refined Star Trek Content and this one’s for excellent moodboard content and garbage so here’s the garbage!!! I’m putting it under a cut bc it manipulates your brain to want to read through 85 fuckin facts about me more wow I love science

rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

1. last drink: Water! off to a great start

2. last phone call: my local Hot Topic. I feel like I should also mention I work there. But if you don’t know that and steal my phone you’ll see I have a contact named Hot Topic

3. last text message: Google sent me a verification code, but the last one I sent was to my brother it says “k”

4. last song you listened to: It’s called The Horror Of Your Love by Ludo, if I had to delete all but one song on my 121-song Best Enemies playlist I’d keep this one it’s Peak and kinda has vore but it’s metaphorical. metavoreical, if you will

5. time you cried: during my latest EMDR sesh! I was in Wales and everything it was a Lot I got ice cream after

6. dated someone twice? Big No

7. kissed someone and regretted it? Not really?

8. been cheated on? my ex had 16 anime dating sims downloaded at one point while we were dating does that count

9. lost someone special? yea

10. been depressed? hella

11. gotten drunk and thrown up? I’ve been drunk 1 time and it was when I was playing English handbells at my dad’s church’s wassail night but I did not throw up no

fave colors

12. Black

13. Lavendar

14. Light blue

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends? Hell Yell!!

16. fallen out of love? k i n d a ? ?

17. laughed until you cried? oh absolutely

18. found out someone was talking about you? OH BOY YUP YUP

19. met someone who changed you? yes! she managed to physically alter my hippocampus without touching it how fuckign whack is that

20. found out who your friends are? It’s always the same miraculous group chat

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list? sure have

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl? I keep it nice and refined so all of them. My old account is another story

23. do you have any pets? one beautiful and talented cat named Moriarty. A good description is she’s got puppy software on cat hardware.

24. do you want to change your name? listen I’ve been through 4.5 of these fuckers, I like Nate, I’m Quite Finished

25. what did you do for your last birthday? invited 2 pals over, I remember one of them suddenly whipped out I Am The Doctor and the Dr Who theme on the piano out of fuckin nowhere and I was like “Daniel what the hell you’re so talented” and then I hardcore dissociated the rest of the day

26. what time did you wake up today? 10:00

27. what were you doing at midnight last night? chatting w @houseofoakdown​ and also editing my monstrosity of a fanfiction

28. what is something you cant wait for? Going back to school! then I can graduate in my pajamas and eat creamed corn in celebration

30. what are you listening to right now? the same goddamn playlist, this one’s called Battle Cry by The Family Crest, i cri erytiem

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom? probably???

32. something thats getting on your nerves? my brother vaping in the bathroom with the fan on at 12:30am

33. most visited website: tungle dot hell

34. hair color: I started out blonde af now I’m less blonde but still blonde.

35. long or short hair: short

36. do you have a crush on someone: :[] yes

37. what do you like about yourself: i’m hella smart, my moodboards are bangin, my writing is cool af, I’m well-hydrated at all times

38. want any piercings? Big No

39. blood type: A+!!!!! thats me!!!!!

40. nicknames: my brother calls me a goon sometimes

41. relationship status: im married to my laptop

42. zodiac: I was born on the last day of Taurus so I’m a definite Taurus/Gemini power combo

43. pronouns: they/them, tho in some places I use he/him bc The Dysphoria got hog wild enough I decided to pretend to be a trans guy so ppl would take me seriously, but I’m moving more towards they/them everywhere now. 

44. fave tv shows: Dr Fuck, Sherlock (I’m armed with a pitchfork and an arsenal of beefed up tv & film knowledge come on fight me), DOWNTON ABBEY

45. tattoos: in August I will get a bee on my right arm and probably a Secret Word in Gallifreyan on my left it’ll say fuck

46. right or left handed: one time I was bored in grade 10 and tried to make myself ambidextrous but that was a hassle so I’m firmly right handed. Except in archery.

47. ever had surgery: got all 4 wisom teeth out not long ago! I still need to squirt water in my gum holes so I get all the mushy food out :{

48. piercings: I used to have my ears pierced but they’re grown tf over now!

49. sport: first of all what the hell is this question looking for second of all I have a red belt (which is 2 below black belt) in Taekwondo. I really need to do that again hhhhhh

50. vacation: i went to England and France in the summer with my family as a “””grad trip”””, it was lots of fun but my collection of sensory issues extended to chomping and I dissociated so intensely in The Louvre my mom told me to go back outside so I wrote fanfiction while listening to 21 Pilots and chatting w my imaginary friends and it took me like 18 hours to process I’d seen The Mona Lisa with mine own 2 eyes. Also the plane was delayed twice bc we used Air Canada for some godforsaken reason and I had 0 hours of sleep when I went to the Sherlock Holmes museum and I started talkin to this bust of Sherlock Holmes and then I hadn’t eaten enough and we were walking to this bookstore and I said “I need food!” and my dad said “We’ll get it AFTER” then I shouted “I’M GONNA DIE” so I got a BLT from Tesco. 

51. trainers: h

more general

52. eating: the last thing I ate was chocolate chips straight out of the bag

53. drinking: I got another cup of water

54. im about to watch: my entire fanfiction to take 3000 notes on consistency. and by watch I mean read

55. waiting for: my brother (not vaping) to get out of the bathroom so I can PEE

56. want: Orphan Black to be on Netflix so I can actually binge watch it then call my grandma about it

57. get married: idk I didn’t think I was a get married person but since realizing I’m a lesbian it seems like a good idea!

58. career: nurse and a writer. I might just move to London and work double time to write enough scripts I have some street cred then pitch a TV adaptation of Faction Paradox to the BBC and win

which is better

59. hugs or kisses: hugs bc it means my friends are in my vicinity not Toronto

60. lips or eyes: uh. eyes???????????

61. shorter or taller: i’m 5′3″ and I would love a tol partner

62. older or younger: i don’t think I care

63. nice arms or stomach: what fresh hell does this mean. I’d like a nice stomach free of gastrointestinal issues and acid reflux. not that I have either of those but just in case

64. hookup or relationship: I have 300 many self-esteem issues so imma say relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant: AU where I don’t have anxiety and I’m a trouble maker

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: noop

67. drank hard liquor: I PUT RUM IN THE WASSAIL HELL YEAH also once someone bought me a shot at a queer dance thing bc it was payday and my friend told me to gulp the WHOLE SHOT and then the lemonade so I don’t barf and I was like “brah this is too high-stakes” so I poured the vodka in the lemonade and took sips and everyone stared at me

68. lost glasses: in grade 6 and then my mom threatened to make me wear one of those granny glasses chains so I never lost them again

69. turned someone down: ya this kid Cyrus used to chase me around in grade 5 and I’d run away always he was weird af one time he made out with a folder right in front of me in the middle of class

70. sex on first date: probs not at this point but I’m not opposed to the general idea when I’m less w h a c k e d  u p

71. broken someones heart: Not that I know of?

72. had your heart broken: c o n s i s t e n t l y in the most fricked up ways god

73. been arrested: no but once I booed at the police bc the local nazis (yeah) were gonna have a rally so we had a counter-rally and I dropped in but there were no nazis except one old dude in a MAGA hat showed up 2 hours late lmao

74. cried when someone died: oui

75. fallen for a friend: Big Lesbian Mood

do you believe in

76. yourself: YA BB

77. miracles: not as such

78. love at first sight: nah

79. santa claus: I wasn’t allowed to believe in Santa as a child bc he was “too much like God” sad

80. kiss on a first date: ye!

81. angels: big no

other

82. best friend’s name: I don’t exactly have a proper best friend but I’m goin with Liam

83. eye colour: blue/grey

84. fave movie: either The Force Awakens (bc I love bb8 and I’m gay 4 Rey) or Interstellar shut up

85. fave actor: uh idk let’s go with my brother

WOW THAT WAS LONG JEE🅱️US. I’m tagging @houseofoakdown @spoonietimelordy @gemvictorfromtheponyverse @spockswhales @raesand and that exhausts the ppl I know but you’re all worth quadruple in my heart 💖

#Open For Sicc Facts Abt Me #ianposting