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noroi1000 · 1 year

Text

Limitless power for you

Paring: curse Gojo x fem reader (human)

Warnings: Slight Yandere, depression, death

"Satoru please... Come back to me..." you murmured as you curled up in the pillow.

The days without him passed inexorably.

Especially after you found out your Satoru died.

Your life was less important than his. Then why did he die instead of you??

Why did he go somewhere without telling you where.

And then you found out that your beloved boyfriend died...

Someone killed him? Or something?

You couldn't find out. You were an ordinary man.

His superiors judged you for not being a sorcerer. They even threatened you. They blamed you for being the cause of Gojo Satoru's death. The strongest sorcerer.

Even though you can admit they were almost happy in some way.

At last, whoever was breaking their rules so much is now gone.

And they don't have to deal with it.

There will be someone else to replace him. Someone else special grade.

Besides, he was blamed by other superiors. Because it was after his birth that more and more powerful curses began to appear. Just to keep the balance of power.

So now, when an even stronger curse appears, who could save the world?

You wondered why you didn't live in your house.

Why did you run away to your apartment?

Maybe it's because everything in your house reminds you that he was with you.

Here you see everything related to it. Your shared moments.

But unfortunately. You have to move out of here tomorrow.

Tonight is the last night you can sleep here. There are other people who rented this apartment instead of you.

You had until the end of the month. Today is the last day.

Tomorrow others are coming to live here instead of you.

You must leave the house tomorrow morning. And you won't be able to come back here again.

You have another house. Your beloved house where you live with Satoru.

But he's not there anymore...

All your stuff is there.

But you were too afraid to be there.

Too much.

The house is so sad and quiet without him.

How are you supposed to live there in such a big house all by yourself?

It will be a terrible feeling of loneliness.

You don't want anyone else. You just want your Satoru.

You want him to come back to you.

All your stuff is there.

But you'd rather sleep here with no covers and nothing to take than to sleep in a cold bed without Satoru.

Tomorrow you will have to face this cold. With loneliness in bed.

"Toru... Why did you leave me...?" you groaned, crying into the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

You hoped to at least fall asleep.

"I didn't leave you at all. I'm here with you. And now... I always will. It's sad that you don't even know that I'm looking at you..."

He sighed. But then a crazy smile appeared on his lips.

"Now you'll be mine forever... I'll never be defeated again, and you'll be mine forever... Come home... And then you won't leave, baby~ we'll always be together~"

You must have left the house before the new owners came.

The only thing you know about them is that they are two guys who rent the apartment that used to be yours to be closer to school and work. students...

Before anyone came, you left there. Leaving everything as it was supposed to be from the beginning. Empty.

You went back to your home.

To even more empty space.

So cold and lifeless...

Is it worth living without Him at all?

Your dreams that night told you that you would be cursed.

That's how Satoru described it to you.

That when you're cursed, you'll even dream of curses.

You hate the feeling of being watched. And now you feel it even more. It's such a bad feeling...

Your dream...

Your dream was about something like that.

You were standing in the dark.

Eyes floated around you, watching your every move.

You also heard a strange giggle.

You really hate having nightmares...

Especially those.

You felt like someone was about to catch you. However, there was no murderous aura.

Nobody wanted to kill you.

And then the eyes flying around you got bigger. Six eyes that surrounded you.

Blue, beautiful eyes.

They all looked as if they were made of the most beautiful crystal.

And the color was the same as Satoru's eyes...

You felt warm. You didn't feel scared. You felt the way you always did with him.

You felt that he, even after his death, watches over you.

Like a real angel.

But he wasn't really an angel.

He was closest to a demon, and he wasn't quite going to the grave just yet. Or not at all.

Because he will never lose again. Because when he lost, he lost the ability to hug you.

And now, he will never let you be alone again.

What sorcerer could defeat a curse above special grade?

When he came out of his body, he felt so good. As if nothing was stopping him at all.

And it really was. Nothing limited him.

His energy was endless. He was immortal. He could do what he wanted.

Because nothing enslaved him anymore.

He had no rules to follow.

He didn't have to listen to anyone.

He didn't have to work for anyone, he didn't have to protect people even at the cost of his own happiness and life.

He could finally do whatever he wanted.

He didn't even remember what it was that kept him attached to the human body.

Ah...

You always held him. And he wanted you to keep holding him like that.

You kept him happy as long as you were with him... His happiness, his love...

So he will take what is important to him with him...

It will hold it even tighter. And he won't let anything take that away from him.

As a curse, he had no limits.

There wasn't even a chance that any sorcerer would defeat him. Even an entire army.

He saw everything. His energy was endless. He could control the universe. Every particle.

Instead of just knocking you unconscious like he did to you last night so you could sleep, he could enter a human sleep. To the human mind. Which he never wanted to do to you.

He could practically destroy the whole world with one move. Without any effort.

But why won't he?

Because you linger in his heart.

And you must have a place to live.

Since he can do so much now, he will find a way to make you immortal.

And you can live together forever.

What he received only increased his love for you.

He already had everything. He just needed someone to be with him.

He could kill curses. He could do what he wanted with people. Because he wasn't the same man anymore.

Nothing was stopping him.

All he wanted was that you thought you'd be his forever.

Nothing will happen to you. You will always be safe and happy.

He can materialize his body. So he can be like a man. Everyone will see it.

That's why it means you won't feel alone.

Mastery over the smallest particle and atom makes him create a body for himself. He's like a human. Everyone will see it. You will feel it.

He doesn't have the body of a cursed spirit.

He is a curse on a divine level.

He believed it most that the strongest creature of the universes could not win against him.

His domain, his innate techniques. That's all it was. Probably so powerful that it's too much.

Because his mere play with small skills was so powerful to do something no one had ever been able to do before.

For your safety, it's better to live with the world at peace. So nothing that can hurt you.

And he might have been hurt by your leaving.

In your dream, he wanted to show himself so much.

Hug you.

But he wanted to leave you a surprise. To meet his body. So you can really touch him.

He looks almost the same as before. His human form.

It's all because he absorbed parts of his human body from the morgue.

Has anyone noticed? No.

The illusion created with his techniques worked perfectly.

It was enough to use the energy of his body.

Only to sit in the same body as always at home.

Waiting for you with a cup of sweet coffee in hand.

He was like a man. Even if it wasn't.

He could live normally. And no one could see that his humanity was over.

He was just waiting for you to come home.

And he was waiting for your cry of happiness.

When you entered the house your eyes were red from all the crying you were hiding under the hood of your sweatshirt.

You left in the morning, so you avoided unnecessary crowds.

And you also disinfected from the bus ride. You just paid for a taxi.

When the taxi driver asked why you were crying, all you could say was that you lost someone really important.

He wasn't mean enough to read your mind, or even try to.

He didn't want to test his skills on you.

What if one of them gets you hurt? Or worse...?

He knew exactly that you were crying. But he couldn't do anything about it while you were away.

When you see it, you will surely be happy.

He was excited when you grabbed the doorknob.

He turned towards the door as he sat in the chair.

His sunglasses on his nose.

His eyesight is now even sharper and more sensitive.

He saw you in the dark of the night when you were sleeping. He saw everything. He hugged you lightly as you slept.

So he could see you in a whole crowd of people from afar.

As you closed the door, tears flowed again.

You've come back to the emptiest house imaginable.

Without him, this house has no life...

Before you turned around, you rested your head against the closed door, crying loudly.

After all, no one will hear you here.

Nobody will comfort you...

Or so you thought.

When he saw your despair, he really thought that he could show himself to you right after he came back.

Because now you're a mess.

All your emotions... Your body.

you suffer.

He always tried to make you always remember him.

That's why it hurts so much right now.

Because you can't forget any of his smiles.

When you saw him at the funeral yesterday, he wasn't smiling.

He died the day before yesterday.

Yesterday was his funeral.

He had no family.

The people who came were his students, his former teacher, and his friends with whom he worked. And you.

The person who grieved the most was you.

You couldn't really calm down. Your heart ached.

You didn't know that right after the coffin was closed, his body disappeared. Like an illusion.

And the real Satoru was sitting nearby, disguised as a cursed spirit, even if he had a body. He just turned invisible.

He very much wanted to appear for all of you and make you not cry and not be sad. Especially you, who got the strongest sedatives from Shoko, but you still couldn't stop grieving.

All his smiles mingled with his pale, cold face you saw.

Now, if you remember all this, it's such an awfully painful feeling...

You turned around when you heard movement.

You looked up to see the man in front of you. Tall, white hair.

This is supposed to be your Satoru.

"Honey..." he called out.

"Toru..." you groaned with your eyes wide open.

You had dreams...

More tears flowed from your eyes.

What is in front of you now is your Satoru... And all you can see in your mind is his dead body...

You hate your mind.

Why is he giving you a clear picture of him as if he hadn't died?

Don't you suffer enough?

With a silent cry, you whispered denials to yourself. And the eyes were waterfalls of tears.

You immediately fell to your knees, curling up on the floor.

"Why.. Why are you doing this to me..." you groaned. "Just kill me already..."

He widened his eyes at what you said.

You really don't think he's standing here in front of you.

You think you're just hallucinating...

Do you really want to die?

He quickly walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your body.

"I'm here, baby." He said softly. His voice almost broke. He hated hearing you cry. He hated hearing you say you wanted to die.

He'd heard too much in a few days.

"...I don't want to live without you...! Satoru, take me out of this world! I don't want to live without you with me...!"

His hands wrapped tighter around you.

"I'm sorry I'm going to do this..."

"No! Don't leave me! I don't want to –"

Suddenly he pressed his lips to your forehead, erasing your memories. From now until the moment before his death.

He will have to do the same with the others. With all Jujutsu society. To make them think he was always alive.

Only some will be able to know that he is a curse.

Because his superiors wanted to charge you with his murder, he should kill them.

"How fast do you think I could kill all my superiors now? They wanted to hurt you... So I can hurt them. Therefore, I have infinite power. I have this for you..." He said as your brain was momentarily clouded after erasing those memories. "So come back to me as you've always been... Smile at me. I will never leave you again. Even for a moment."

"Satoru? Are you home yet?" You asked, snuggling into his chest.

He has yet to instill in you the awareness that he is no longer human.

And it won't be difficult. Because you love him no matter who he is.

Hiding it will be easy.

When using cursed energy, his sclera turns black and his eyes glow more. However, he can always wear something to hide his eyes.

You can see his face always.

And only you can see its true form.

"Honey, I'm a curse." he said hugging you.

"But you're the same..." you moaned snuggling into his chest.

"I am. I just need to show you something. I know you can keep a secret. I know because you are wonderful. You're so perfect. Only you can see it. The way I was reborn."

"I love you. I missed you." You said, kissing his jaw. "Are you okay? Are you comfortable with... You're not human? Is something hurting you? How did this happen...?"

"I'm fine. Too fine. It's perfect. Now I can find a way to give you eternal life as well. And we'll be together forever."

"It's not possible... I wish I could be with you forever. But this... How can I help you?"

"I want to be a curse. I have a human body. You do not feel? My heart is beating. It beats for you. Only for you. I live because I wanted to live with you. I just absorbed the energy after death. The fact that you missed me gave me a chance to come back. To continue to live with you, I chose this. And now... Now we can be together forever."

"Toru..."

"I love you... Now look at me. And promise me you won't be afraid."

You knew his body had changed somehow. Increased a little. But it was still your Satoru.

He's back from a mission. As a curse. But it's your Satoru.

He looks the same. He's the same.

You looked at him as he pushed you away.

His white hair was the same. The shape of his face.

He was a humanoid curse.

His eyes were very shining. Black scleras. But just as beautiful blue. Like a crystal. The color was a bit sharper.

Another one opened under his eyes. On the cheeks. And also on his forehead.

When he smiled, you saw sharp fangs.

On his neck, a black vertical Japanese inscription - 無限 - Mugen - Infinite.

On the right forearm - 無制限 - Museigen - Unlimited.

On the left forearm - 無敵 - Muteki - Invincible.

His plain black T-shirt seemed a little tighter across his chest and arms.

He was beautiful.

"Aren't you afraid?" he asked calmly.

"No." You responded by placing your hands on his cheeks. Watching out for his extra pair of eyes.

He smiled, taking your hands.

Then suddenly you saw his extra eyes disappear.

"But I honestly prefer it. More places on your face where you can kiss me." He said.

You giggled softly and kissed his cheek.

"I'll show you something else."

You saw a black circle appear behind his back, which seemed to show the stars. And six big eyes popped out of it.

Around the largest eyes circled six smaller eyes. Each eye had another six. And each smaller eye had six more around it, which were the size of human eyes.

You thought those eyeballs were made of crystal, but they weren't real. And so it was.

They were all beautifully blue.

"Do not try to look into the pupil when they are shining. You remember how my domain works, right?" he said bringing your eyes to him. "When you look in the middle of the eye when they shine more and seem to sparkle with the stars, they cause the same thing as my domain. I've tested it on curses I've encountered."

Why was he so beautiful. But if you met him and he wanted to kill you, you'd be scared.

Surely.

But he will never hurt you.

"Say you love my eyes please. I always love hearing your voice, mochi~."

"Must I?" You laughed with a small blush.

You don't want to increase his ego.

"I know you love my eyes." He said laying his head on your breasts as he looked into your eyes.

His black sclera contrast nicely with his skin, hair and eyelashes.

You ran your hands over his throat. After the inscription 無限 (Mugen). Enjoying the warmth of his skin.

"I love you." He said purring.

Then his body shrunk slightly, the marks on his body disappeared. His sclera turned white. But the crystal blue was the same.

The eyes behind him evaporated. And you stayed with him as if he was still human. But he is not.

Now he can do more. You can. You can live together as you like.

And no one will ever threaten you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #Curse Gojo #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojou satoru x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst with fluff #angst with comfort

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lowkeyrobin · 26 days

Note

Trevor Spengler meeting a ghost his age that is stuck as a ghost because they doesn’t remember their surname or how they died or where they used to live? Like all the ‘important info’ from their memories is gone? Headcanons or one shot? Maybe he was called to “evict” them from a residence and took them home to try to help them?

oh em gee YESSS YESYESYES I love the gbfandom cause yall r so creative ; also this sounds very familiar to frozen empire LMAO ; dw melody kinda slayed ; phoebe is definitely gay idc ; reader knows how they died but not much else, but dw it's for the plot. it's alright let me go by summerdrive is literally the final part of this lol ; also this is super long compared to my other works. I think its good though lol

TREVOR SPENGLER ; lost soul

summary ; youre a lost ghost with no way around the new way of life you'd found yourself in, and trevor is intrigued by you, and decides to try and help you out

warnings ; language, talk about car crashes/death due to car accidents

disclaimers ; set post-frozen empire, me not knowing wtf mannhattan looks like. there's a hilly kind of area near lincoln park bc I said so

word count ; 2.4k

masterlist

The day progressed as usual for Trevor. Wake up, eat, chill out, wait for someone to call, go bust ghosts, come home, eat, sleep and then repeat it all again. Currently, stage five was in progress.

He sits behind Gary in the driver's seat, Phoebe at his side, and his mom in clear view in the front passenger seat. There was no speeding or heavy fight scene, just a calm drive out to a house just outside the main city.

Someone had called in a ghost, I mean, more like a haunting in Trevor's eyes. Nothing was being destroyed, but a very, very apparent ghost had spent the past week sobbing in the attic and banging on the walls.

As he lays eyes on them, he's mesmerized. Their aura is a light blue, contrasting the dark green, brown, and black hues surrounding the attic. They were like a match in the dark. He was attracted to them like a moth to a flame.

He stands on one side of the attic entrance, them on the other. He had to basically turn around to see them on the opposite side of the attic.

He awkwardly and shyly waves, seeing them look back at him, their face contorted to one of discomfort and shock. Tears drip down their cheeks and down onto their neck, scratches and bruises covering their opaque arms, legs and face. A light flickering movement trails down their arms and onto their shoulders and neck, resembling fire.

"Who are you?" They ask, a harsh tone in their voice. Their hands are balled into fists, hanging at their sides.

"Uh, my name's Trevor" He says, showing his empty hands for you, to get some sense that he wasn't here to hurt you. "I'm a Ghostbuster, we got a call that you've been banging walls and stuff..."

They look at him up and down, still thinking this Trevor guy wasn't very trustworthy.

"I just wanna help, okay? What does it take to get you somewhere safer and away from this house?" He asks.

They shrug, unable to hold eye contact. "I don't know why I'm here. I don't know how I'm supposed to move on, I just wanna see my dad again"

Trevor's face quickly morphs into one of solem, feeling the same way as you right now. "I can try and help you move on" He suggests, "Do you know how you... died?"

"Car accident" You answer.

His eyes slightly widened for a moment before answering. "Would you like to come with me? So we can help you move on? We have a lab not to far away, we can try and help you find your way to continue on"

Phoebe, who'd been listening in from downstairs, having been holding the ladder before, speaks up. "We can help you break the fabric and space in time!"

They slightly jump back a bit, not having known that Trevor had guests.

"That's my sister!" He quickly explains, shooting a glare down the ladder towards her. "It's okay, we aren't here to hurt you."

They step forward a bit, the two separated by the hole in the attic floor. They peek down at Phoebe, who gives them a little wave and smile. They look back up at Trevor, who gives them a reassuring yet unsure look, silently urging them to come with him.

"Fine. But not to be experimented on. I just want to see my dad again, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's okay!"

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Forty-four days that the lonely ghost had been staying at a lab where the somberly walked around, trying to remember anything other than their death. What were they meant to do?

They and Trevor had grown close, though.

He'd been working with them one-on-one nearly everyday, trying to figure out who they were, when they died, where they died. They'd grown accustomed to this talk, having it not make them grow sad or angry anymore. They became numb to it, they just wanted to move on.

Trevor made their time here worth it though. He understood them more than anyone else. They wouldn't even work with Lars or Lucky if he wasn't around. Lars would scold them and reinform that if they didn't cooperate that it would only take longer, but they didn't mind at this point. They'd like to stay and hang out with Trevor some more.

The same ripped jeans and sweatshirt they wore when they passed never grew any more deteriorated than it already was, strings and rips never mending themselves. They were still comfortable though, physically and mentally. That last day they spent with their father, they didn't know much about it, but their insides grew warm when they thought about or tried to remember it.

Hours and hours of work was rewarded with Trevor taking them out on a walk through the city and showing them the sights. They enjoyed it quite a lot, and didn't mind any stares or looks, just enjoying the time they were able to spend with the boy.

On one of these walks, Trevor brought up some good news. "I think we found your case, Y/n"

They look over at him, an eyebrow raised.

"We found the newspaper caption of the day after you died, it all matches up." He explains, pulling out his phone to show you a picture. "Car flips over gaurd rail near Lincoln Park, one dead, one in critical condition"

They nod, looking back up at Trevor. "I'm guessing I'm the one who died?"

He nods. "In the article it says your name, and your dad's" He hands the phone over to them, pointing the location as they zoom in.

"Y/n L/n" They whisper. "L/n"

He slows down the pace, seeing the look of pain in their eyes.

"What about my dad? Did he die too?"

He nervously shrugs, not having a definitive answer. They nod, handing the phone back.

"That's a great lead though, we can find out where he is. And maybe that can help us get you into the next realm, or whatever it is" Trevor speaks with reassurance. "I will get you there, I swear that on my life, okay?"

The two stand in front of each other on the empty sidewalk, surrounded by trees and cars passing by. He looks up at them, truth behind his dark eyes.

They chew at the inside of their cheek with a nod, wishing they could just hug him right now.

"Can we go visit where...." They speak softly, trying to ask a bit of a heavy question. That question should've been heavy for them, not him of all people.

He nods with a little smile, planning to go after they went out to eat, or, he did. Ghosts of their kind thankfully didn't need food, just being floating spirits trying to find their escape.

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The dusk had turned to night, the sun having set not long ago, the streets lit up by lights and the moon. The walk towards the crash site was silent while Y/n looked over the newspaper pictures a few times.

2021. That wasn't that long ago, yet it seemed like an eternity.

They approach the dented gaurd rail, right where the car must've flipped. Trevor hangs back, putting his phone back in his pocket after they gave it back. They look down the hill, seeing scraps of metal and tire rubber still laying at the bottom.

Their heart sank as they saw it.

Pieces of the scrap were clearly melted or burned, same with a few trees around the area, the bark charred black from whatever fire must've occurred. That had to have explained the fire on their arms, though they never remembered a fire. They must've died on impact.

Trev stands a few feet away, keeping quiet as he sees them just stare into nothing. Maybe they were recollecting memories or maybe their death or anything else in their life was coming back to them. He didn't want to disturb.

They look at the gaurd rail, sunken down to the ground. Some blood splatters still painted the backside, a little pool of blood staining the concrete.

They, with a smooth pace, walk back to Trevor, holding back tears.

"I want to find my dad. I want to know if he lived or not" They speak, pointing down at the blood. "Please, Trevor. I can't wait around any longer."

He nods. He nearly opens his arms for a hug but stops himself, remembering that he couldn't make physical contact with him.

"I'll come down to the lab tomorrow morning and we'll get to work, okay?"

"Okay"

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The sounds of clicks and keyboard taps echo through the lab. Trevor sits in front of the computer, typing all sorts of variations of their father's name and the city, date, etc into the Google search bar. Y/n stands behind him, watching with caution.

Thank God for True People Search.

F/n L/n, Age 55 - Lives in Manhattan, NY (917)-123-4567.

"Holy shit" The two whisper in unison. They both lightly smile, quickly getting back to the mission at hand.

Trevor clicks on the website, instantly greeted by a picture of Y/n's father. Underneath was his full name, age, date of birth, phone number, and city and state of current residence. Below was more info, like his current address, past and current phone numbers, email addresses, possible relatives, etcetera.

The second person below the possible relatives was a familiar name and age. Y/n L/n, age 17.

"Holy shit, that's you" Trevor states, moving the mouse towards the name. "He's- He's not dead"

They're silent now, staring down at the computer screen.

"What the fuck? I spent all these years thinking he was dead!" They say, slowly backing away from the computer and Trevor, hands on their head as they try and not freak out. "What the hell?"

Trevor quickly stands up, proposing an idea. "What if we call him, and get him to come here and see you?"

They're quiet for a moment.

"I'm scared"

"I'll be right here"

Silence.

"I think this is what will make you be able to move on, Y/n"

They're quiet again, then they nod slowly, taking a little deep breath.

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Y/n sits in the chair Trevor was sitting in before, leg bouncing like crazy due to nerves. The curly haired boy, who thankfully grew out his hair some, was speaking words of reassurance to them. It was already four in the afternoon, the days passing on and blending into each other for poor Y/n.

They couldn't even remember how many days ago it was that The Possessor scared the shit out of them with a chair.

Finally, there's a knock on the door, which Trevoe quickly walks over to answer. They felt like they were going to vomit, if they even could.

"Y/n?"

They quickly look up, hearing the familiar voice calling their name. They'd never felt or heard something so familiar that it instantly warmed up their heart.

Their father stands in the doorway, Trevor in front of him as he walks toward them.

The man walks with a limp, carrying his 200 pound body down the hallway. A bushy beard covered the bottom half of his face, grey hairs peaking out between it. He wore a baseball cap, hiding whatever grey hairs he had up there as well.

Y/n quickly stands up, laying eyes on their father after all this time. They felt their whole core begin to burn as they saw him again.

"Dad?"

He smiles, opening his arms. "Y/n"

They quickly run to him, then almost through him, forgetting they were a ghost. They wrap their arms around him, knowing the couldn't make physical contact. He does the same, arms stiffly heald around each other.

"I missed you so much" They cry, looking up at him. "I thought you died"

The two pull their arms away from each other. Trevor watches a few feet away with a smile.

The older man smiles somberly, "I almost did, Y/n/n"

"Are you okay?" They quickly ask, looking at him up and down.

He sighs and shrugs, "I don't think there's been a day where I've been okay without you"

The burning only became worse, nearly hurting them. They didn't know if it was good or bad but you wanted to enjoy this.

"I love you, Dad"

"I love you too. I'm sorry I failed you" He speaks, tears falling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry for everything"

"It's okay" They lightly smile with a chuckle, the action performed by their surprise, shock and happiness of the situation. "I'm okay. Trevor has been helping me try to find you"

He looks back at Trevor who gives him a warm smile and nod, then back to them. They were beginning the process to fade away. Tiny, microscopic pieces of them began drifting away like leaves against the wind. They look down at themselves, feeling the fading and numbing sensation.

Their father nods, seeing the look of 'I need to speak to Trevor' and 'I love you' mixed in their eyes.

They quickly walk over to Trevor, wrapping their arms around him, still stiffly holding them over his shoulders.

"Thank you, so much. I can't thank you enough, Trev"

He smiles, wrapping his arms around them. "Thank you for trusting me, Y/n/n"

They can feel their body trembling, feeling themselves fade into nothing. They hear and feel Trevor crying a bit, trying to hide it.

"Hey, it's alright, I'll be okay" They chuckle, seeing the boy wipe his tears away as they're no longer halfway-hugging.

"I know" He nods, "Have fun moving on"

They lightly smile, and look back at their father. They hold onto whatever memories they had with both him and Trevor, waving goodbye to both of them as they fade into the oxygen around them.

Y/n's father wipes his tears, looking at Trevor now that they're completely gone, for good this time.

"Thank you for bringing me back to my child. Even if it was only for a moment. I can't find the words to express how much I thank you for that"

Trevor nods, "It's okay. Thank you for bringing such a kind soul into the world, Mr. L/n"

"You can call me F/n, son"

#lowkeyrobin #trevor spengler x reader #trevor spengler #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn!reader

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fettuccinealfred0 · 4 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 4

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.6k

(CW: general vampirism, very light descriptions of injury)

Summary:

Astarion’s cold hand reaches out to catch your own as you move to drop it back to your side and he presses your palm against his cheek. His skin is like silk and you can hardly stop yourself from softly running your thumb over his beautiful cheekbone.

He leans in closer, lips just a breath away from yours. You hope he will lean down and kiss you. That he will wrap you in his arms and never let you go. You close your eyes and tilt your head up in anticipation.

Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.

“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

Read on ao3 here

“What are you reading?” Astarion asks, flopping himself onto the settee next to you.

You lift the book up so he can see the cover. Bram Stroker’s Dracula. “I’m doing research on vampires.”

“Very funny,” Astarion says with a sour face. It makes you giggle as you turn back to your book.

Astarion watches you for a moment before he lets out a frustrated huff that you know is meant to draw your attention back to him.

“Why are you spending all your time surrounded by dusty old books when you could ask me, a real vampire?” He does a self-important flourish with his hand that causes you to snort out another laugh.

It seems too harsh to say ‘because I still don’t know if I can trust a word that comes out of your mouth.’ And really, you do mostly trust him now. You just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something bigger going on around here.

You see Astarion whispering with Shadowheart and Gale in dark corners. You see the weird visitors- the giant, friendly woman, the stern looking warrior-woman, and the man with two different colored eyes- that Astarion always immediately rushes into his study. You had tried listening at the door the last time they came, but you still couldn’t hear anything.

Astarion couldn’t necessarily be called paranoid because, yeah, you were listening at the door. But to be fair, his actions were definitely suspicious. And what were you supposed to do- not try to solve this puzzle which had so wonderfully presented itself to you?

“Come, little flower, ask me anything. I promise there’s plenty of juicy details that are far too scandalous for your books to mention,” Astarion lightly pulls your attention back to him when he notices you chewing on your lip as you think.

He’s hooked you there and he knows it- you never could resist the opportunity to indulge your curiosity. You curl up your feet so Astarion can settle more comfortably next to you and he slings his arm over the back of the settee. Perhaps you imagined it, but you could swear you caught his eyes darting down to your bare calf when you shifted, before you could adjust your skirts to cover yourself.

“What happens if you come into contact with garlic?”

“Aside from bad breath?” Astarion wrinkles his nose. “It’s not deadly or anything, it just reeks. No sane vampire would ever go near the stuff.”

“What about silver?”

“A very pretty metal, though I’m partial to gold,” He answers, gesturing down to his waistcoat, which is made of a shimmery golden silk with swirling floral patterns. Your husband never was one for minimalism.

“What about running water?” You ask, practically having to rip your eyes away from his waistcoat. For under his waistcoat, lay his chest. And the idea of that lovely expanse of alabaster skin had quickly become an image which plagued you in the dark of night.

“Should I be growing concerned about this line of questioning? You seem to only want to know about things that can harm me. I thought your questions would be much more fun.”

You smirk at him. “Please. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all, you feisty little devil,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. His red eyes flicker dangerously, like fire. “As for running water- I do love a bath. Though, it would be all the more delightful if you decided to join me. I could make it… very worth your while.”

His eyes rake over you and you struggle in vain to ignore the familiar flames of heat licking at your cheeks. You can’t decide if the cause is embarrassment or arousal, or both.

“Do you remember what color your eyes were?” You ask, figuring you’ve teased him enough with your initial questions.. Astarion looks genuinely shocked for a moment before his forehead creases a bit. “You know, I’m not sure I do. It’s been so long.”

“How long?” you ask cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. You expect him to skitter away at this line of questioning. Astarion doesn’t like deeply personal questions. He likes wordplay and teasing and, occasionally, dropping the odd fact about himself if you listened closely enough.

“A couple hundred years,” he answers. It breaks your heart to hear that. To know he’s spent so long like this. He couldn’t have been older than his thirties when he was turned, which means he had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he was alive. Does he even remember what it was like?

“I think they were gray. Or maybe green?” Astarion is still thinking, lost in his own little world. He sits for another moment. “Whatever. You have to admit that the red suits me, doesn’t it, darling?”

He shoots you a wink, said red eyes glinting playfully. You almost have whiplash from how quickly he was able to fall back into his flirtatious performance. By now, you have spent enough time with Astarion to know this act is what he reverts back to when he wants to reestablish control in a conversation, when he wants to stop himself from settling into uncomfortable emotions.

“Your eyes were blue,” you tell him and he looks at you warily. “I ran across the portrait of your family one day. You looked so much like your mother.”

You don’t tell him of all the hours you had spent studying the painting, turning the image over and over in your mind trying to figure out how this piece fit into the puzzle.

“Why would you tell me that?”

And to your surprise, he’s angry at your words. You note this reaction in your mind- that bringing up his past will warrant anger and leave you without any useful information.

“So you could reclaim a part of yourself that was either stolen from you or that you forgot,” you say softly. Astarion’s eyebrows bunch together and he looks deep in thought. It’s making the room too heavy, his thoughts seem too dark.

“How were you turned?” You ask, trying to distract him while also trying to get more of your questions answered.

When he speaks, his tone seems too measured, too rehearsed. “Someone is turned when a vampire drains them dry and buries their body. It’s a rite of passage to dig yourself out of your grave. Of course, the body has to be buried almost immediately or the ritual won’t work and the person will just be dead. It’s a… delicate balance.”

He technically did answer your question, but the story of his turning is noticeably missing.

“Have you ever turned someone?”

“No, I didn’t have that ability for a long time. And now, I don’t really care to.” He’s trying to feign nonchalance, but you see the way his fist is clenched so tightly in his lap that his nails are digging painfully into his palms. He’s hiding something.

“But you’re a vampire?” Your own brow furrows in confusion, because it doesn’t make sense that he would be a vampire but not be able to turn someone.

“Am I?” Astarion asks sarcastically, examining his skin. “I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for that astute observation.”

You nudge him with your foot. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes, but it’s just so fun to tease you, pet. I simply can’t resist.”

He’s trying to get himself out of this line of questioning by baiting you with teasing. But the way he’s still holding his shoulders so tightly, you know there’s still valuable information to be gained.

“So, you’re not a ‘real’ vampire?” you ask again, trying to coax him back on track.

“Now I am.” Astarion takes a deep breath in and out. “For a long time, I was just a vampire spawn.”

“How’s that any different?” You had read a bit about vampires and vampire spawn while doing your vampire research in the library, but the accounts were so varied that it was hard to discern what was true or false. From what you could gather, a vampire spawn serves a vampire lord. And it is rather strange that Astarion doesn’t seem to have any running around the manor.

Astarion is still quiet, so you rephrase the question. “What’s the story behind how you were turned, then?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Astarion finally snaps, shooting you a glare.

“You said I could ask you anything.” You remind him, sure to keep your tone calm and measured.

“I said you could ask, I didn’t say that I would answer,” he says through gritted teeth. He’s so tense, jaw tight and shoulders nearly up to his ears.

You pout and he softens a bit, lowering his arm from the back of the settee to graze his fingertips gently over the back of your hand.

“There are some stories that only serve to harm when they are told, little flower,” he says quietly and the pained look on his face sends a twinge to your heart that makes you drop the subject entirely.

In moments like this, you must remind yourself that his beauty is a shield- a defense mechanism meant to amplify his pain and provoke a response from you. Even though you are aware of this, the way Astarion looks when he’s in pain has you nearly falling to your knees and begging forgiveness for ever daring to hurt him..

“What happens if you drink the blood of someone who’s drunk?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood after the heavy turn.

You know he’ll welcome a silly question like that. And the radiant smile that lights up Astarion’s face is worth dropping your real line of question. You could ask another time. Right now, you would do just about anything to keep him smiling like this in front of you.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask! You can get drunk from them, but you have to drink a lot and the effects fade far too quickly. I much prefer wine for a quick buzz.”

“Makes sense with that cellar I found downstairs,” you tease. Though, cellar was a bit of an understatement. Grand network of caverns filled with more wine than you could ever conceive of existing was a more apt description.

“Darling, you should know by now that I collect and cherish the things I enjoy,” Astarion says in a deep, husky voice, eyes looking up at you sinfully from underneath his pale lashes.

The image of him cherishing you fills your mind and sets your face aflame. It would be so easy for his hand to reach out, to tilt your chin up and present your face to his. All he would have to do is lean over, just a little bit closer, and his pretty pink lips would press against yours. They would be soft and cool against your burning skin.

No. Stay focused. This was the time for getting some much needed answers out of Astarion, not the time for silly romantic fantasies.

“Do you like being a vampire?” you ask after clearing your throat. You take great care to keep your voice as calm as possible, afraid you might again be leading Astarion into tumultuous waters.

Astarion takes a moment before he speaks and you can watch his thoughts play out on his face. The slight frown when he first processes your question, the way his eyes dart around the room as if he will think up some witty response to distract you, the gentle furrow in his brow as he tries to think of a genuine response.

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.” He’s trying hard to keep his own voice measured and controlled when he speaks. “It’s… complicated. I certainly don’t regret being turned. Not anymore, at least.”

Not anymore. So, he did regret being turned at some point. But why? What horrors has he witnessed that were so unspeakable? Was his turning really that traumatic?

Perhaps he had been in a war? You had read many stories that portrayed war as the worst of what humanity could do to one another. But no, that’s ridiculous. Astarion is nobility, he practiced law. And Astarion isn’t the type to involve himself in other’s petty squabbles, anyway.

But the faraway, pained look in Astarion’s eye has you thinking that whatever he had suffered must have been akin to the worst of war.

“Would you ever want to be a vampire?” He surprises you by turning the question back on you. You curl your arms around your knees, pulling them closer to your chest. Your reaction isn’t an immediate no, which surprises you a bit.

“I don’t know. Depends on the circumstances, I think,” you tell him.

What you really mean is that it depends on if eternity would look like this. If eternity would involve reading in the gardens or Astarion and you sitting next to each other on a settee and talking. Those might be terms you could agree to.

“I think I would really miss the sunlight,” you give Astarion a sad smile.

No sunlight means no gardens during the day, no talking strolls in the forest, no swimming in a river and sunbathing on a rock to dry yourself off. The life of a vampire is cold and dark and lonely. Only, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so lonely for you?

“A small price to pay for eternal life,” Astarion says with what you have come to understand is his hollow performance voice. Meant to dazzle an audience and distract people from the fact that his real feelings contradict what he is saying.

You watch him carefully as he settles deeper into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to tamper whatever melancholy had been brewing inside him.

“Come on then, darling, read to me,” he says, giving you a wicked grin, “I can tell you what they got wrong in your little book.”

You read aloud and Astarion chimes in with little quips like ‘that’s not right,’ and ‘what do you think about me taking two more brides like this Dracula fellow, pet?’ and ‘good gods, just skip over the parts about Renfield, he’s a disgusting, pathetic character.’

But as you continue to read, Astarion slowly lets his head rest against the back of the couch and his eyes grow heavy before they eventually fall closed. The frequency of his interruptions slows until he’s just giving little hums of acknowledgement when you read something especially shocking or profound.

When you make it over two pages without a single interruption, you pause to look over at him. His deep, even breaths lead you to think he might have fallen asleep. With a smile, you turn back to the book and keep reading, perfectly content to never let this moment end, even if the number of remaining pages was starting to dwindle.

—---------

The longer you spent around Astarion, the more you realize that he did occasionally sprinkle the truth into his words- for even the best charlatans use truth to make their facades seem more real. Astarion wasn’t unique in that regard.

As such, you were determined to find the flakes of truth in Astarion’s story, determined to piece together the puzzle of the man you called your husband. It would be your most challenging and most rewarding prize yet.

So, you study him. You watch and you learn every tiny expression on his face. Astarion might be a masterful performer, but there were involuntary reactions even he could not control- a slight furrow of the brow, an inhale, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. And sometimes, there were flashes of something in his eyes- joy, wonder, terror, despair- so quick that a lesser trained eye might have missed them completely.

You notice these details because they are important to your cause. And yet, they stick around in your head for hours, repeating like some terribly wonderful time loop.

And you find yourself craving his company. You tell yourself that it’s not because you particularly enjoy his presence, but because every interaction gives you more information, gets you one step closer to discovering the truth beneath the mask. And yes, he was beautiful and wonderful to look at, but you only gazed upon him so often because you were collecting valuable data.

Though… it was remarkable how he seemingly had no bad angles. How the candlelight bent to his whim, following him around and dancing against his skin.

And gods damn him, Astarion can be funny, when he wants to be. He’s well-read and full of little tales and salacious secrets about the other nobles and their ancestors. In another life, you would have thought the gods crafted him especially for you- your perfect conversation partner.

Although Astarion will never love you, never desire you in the way that you secretly know you will always want him, you think he has come to find some enjoyment in your companionship, too. Some of his smiles seem a bit too real, some of his laughs a little too wild to be rehearsed. You imagine he regards you as a sort of… pet. Or, if you really dare to dream, perhaps a friend.

You must constantly remind yourself that his flirtations are empty, practiced phrases that are meant to disarm you. They do not show you he cares for you or that he wants you. You try to ignore that deep, viscous part of you that calls out to him, that wants him to think of you fondly, that hopes that you are driving him as mad with your presence as he drives you.

Over the past month, you’ve become semi-nocturnal. You find Astarion is much more active once the sun has gone down and the later you stay awake, the more time you get to spend with him. It’s unsettling how naturally your life seems to shift to accommodate him.

When you do make your way out to the garden in the late afternoons, Halsin happily congratulates you in his friendly, over-the-top way on the state of your marriage and how you and Astarion have managed to grow together despite your initial difficulties. You know he means it sincerely, but the words leave you a stuttering, embarrassed mess. You didn’t think you were being so obvious about your growing… affection for Astarion.

So, you start reading in the library more often than the garden, now that the air has started to turn crisp in the autumn nights.

Or at least, you’ve convinced yourself that’s the reason why and not because you secretly hope that Astarion will come join you.

And he does join you, some days. He’ll stride in with a book or some papers and take up residence on the couch across from you. On the really good days, he’ll sit on the couch beside you and ask you to read aloud and you get to lean against him while you read to him.

Tonight, he decided to accompany you to the library after dinner. He’s sitting in a chair across from your favorite settee and he’s only wearing a flowing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You keep sneaking peeks up at him, mesmerized by the blue veins in his arms and how the lean muscles move when he turns a page. You’re trying really hard to be subtle- only letting yourself glance up for a moment every couple of minutes.

But, gods, it’s so difficult to focus on the words in front of you with that expanse of skin teasing you.

“You haven’t turned a page in a very long time, darling,” Astarion says without even looking up from his own book.

“And how attentive are you to your own reading if you’ve been listening for me to turn the page?” You shoot back.

“Oh, I’ve been finished for ages. I just couldn’t stand to leave you.” He gives you that devilish, tantalizing grin where one corner of his mouth curves up more than the other. It sends your heart fluttering like a hummingbird in your chest.

“Well,” you sigh, shutting your book and attempting to act casual, as if your formerly self-declared enemy hadn’t just caught you gawking at his forearms. “I suppose I’m not going to get any more of this finished tonight.”

“I apologize, I know my presence is entirely too distracting,” Astarion says, and the arrogant look on his face makes you roll your eyes. He’s not wrong, but he'd be entirely too pleased with himself the rest of the evening if you admitted it out loud.

“Yes, how does anyone get anything done with you around?” you say sarcastically instead.

“I haven’t the faintest idea how,” Astarion lets out a suffering sigh, as if his beauty is too much for the world to handle (it is). You can’t let yourself think about it too long or you’ll devolve in idle fantasies about what it might feel like to trace those beautiful veins in his arms all the way up to his chest.

You snap your book shut, “Want to join me on a walk around the gardens?”

You need to get out of here, where the stifling air and Astarion’s flowy white shirt are clouding your mind. But you don’t want this night to end yet. Not just yet. In truth, you gladly and greedily take as much time as Astarion’s willing to give you.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be in the world.”

He says it with that easy, flirtatious tone and you know he probably doesn’t really mean it. But that deep part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise still preens.

The cool air is refreshing when you step outside and your head finally begins to clear. Astarion holds his arm out for you and you let your fingers brush against the skin of his forearm as you tuck yourself into his side.

When you turn to look at him, he’s practically luminescent. The moonlight was made for him, bouncing off his white curls and casting a gentle glow over his pale skin. As the moon reflected the sun’s light, Astarion seemed to reflect the moon’s. You were simply lucky to bask in his presence.

Arm in arm, you wander through the garden, pointing out your favorite flowers to Astarion and checking in on the blooms. It’s reached that part of autumn where some perennials have started to sleep, ready to reawaken in the spring. The sunflowers, always one of your favorites, are drooping for the night, waiting to chase after the sun again tomorrow, and you frown a bit when you see them.

“It’s a shame you never get to see the gardens during the day. The colors, the blooming flowers. It’s truly one of the most remarkable things I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, as you and Astarion move into the rose garden. Everything new you find out about vampirism makes it sound like an isolating, dreary existence. You make a mental note that Astarion could use some cut flowers in his study every now and then, though it feels like a poor substitute for the splendor of the full gardens.

Because it is your mission to study Astarion, you don’t miss the fleeting, pained look that passes over his face, the look he always gets when you dig a bit too close to a truth he’d rather keep buried.

You used to push him on these, but you quickly found that got you nowhere. No, Astarion responded far better to a gentle touch rather than provocation and name calling. You were coming to realize that he would tell you in time, in his own way. And you had started to find that you didn’t mind waiting for answers if it kept you in his company that much longer.

And oh, how rewarding those answers were when he gifted them to you in the dark of the night, offering up little pieces of himself like Tara delivering you a dead mouse.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prattling on- '' you try to backtrack, to apologize for the sadness that you have caused to enter his eyes.

You sometimes wonder what his eyes would look like if they were still blue- would they be pale blue like soft ocean waves or rich and deep like the blue flowers in the garden?

With his red eyes in front of you, his sadness is akin to pain, all blood and gore and unspoken horrors. No, you decide, if Astarion had blue eyes they must look like dark rain clouds when he is sad. For if Astarion weeped, would the heavens themselves not cry for him?

“Nonsense,” Astarion cuts you off and you’re acutely aware of how your husband has been studying you just as intently as you were watching him. Admittedly, the two of you were remarkably similar underneath it all. All sharp teeth and claws masking scared and fragile hearts.

He gives your hand a little squeeze where it rests on his forearm. “It’s wonderful to see the world through your eyes.”

He says it so casually, like he hasn’t caused your knees to buckle and your soul to leave your body. Occasionally, he slips in sentiments like that, with no regard for your poor heart. You’re dangerously close to having hope that he actually means them.

But no, you remind yourself. There was no way Astarion’s words could be trusted. He said things, he did things to get a reaction out of you because he grew bored and because he knew how badly you wanted him, how badly everyone wanted him. There was no reason to hope. He had entertained you at the ball because he was hungry, he had married you to tie up loose ends, and he spent time with you now because he had very little other company up here in his lonely manor.

You do not mean as much to him as he does to you.

You distract yourself from that thought spiral by talking, amazed at how easy and willing you are to offer up information to him now, “I used to have a book with flowers drawn in it as a little girl that I would stare at all day. There were so many that I’d never thought I’d get to see in real life, until I came here. And there were some flowers that I didn’t even know existed until I saw them here for the first time. These gardens are everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

Astarion gives you a smile that lights up his whole face and he seems so proud, like the whole purpose of his life is to make you happy. Your heart sings again and you shush her immediately.

Astarion’s beauty was not something you would ever grow used to. And in the lighting tonight, his profile sent a cold shock through your body. You had never felt so alive. You had never yearned for death more.

“My mother used to love the gardens here. She used to always try to get me to help her plant things. I wish…” He trails off, reaching out to stroke a delicate rose petal with his fingers. “Well, I wish I would have appreciated that more when I was younger. You never realize as a child how precious those memories will one day become.”

“And I wish you could have seen it then,” he says, letting out a wistful sigh. “You would have loved it. The gardens were even grander and more vast than what they are now. When I returned, they were in such disrepair that it pained me to look at them for ages. I hired Halsin to help restore them and he did a wonderful job, of course, but it’s just…”

He continues to stare at the flower he holds in his hand, unable to find the words to finish his sentence.

“Not the same?” you complete the thought for him and he nods.

And although his words fill you with a deep sadness, you rejoice for a moment. Astarion offers up information about himself so rarely that his words tonight are practically a feast. You tuck away that little piece of his backstory in your mind to analyze later. Though, as usual, he leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where had he returned from? Where was it that he had spent most of his vampiric life? And you still don’t know the circumstances of how he was turned into a vampire or how that plays into creating the man standing before you.

You let your fingers rub in circles against his forearm as you think.

Astarion’s rests his hand over yours. “Your hands are cold, little flower. And we both know a pretty thing like you blooms better in the daytime. I think it’s time to get you back inside.”

You try to protest but a yawn escapes you and Astarion gives you a knowing look that forces you to roll your eyes and allow him to start guiding you back toward the manor. His footsteps are slow, as if he’s trying to prolong your time together.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you say quietly, when you reach your room.

Facing him, the low, flowing neckline on his shirt has the lines of his collarbone perfectly in your sight and you’re scared you won’t be able to resist reaching out and touching them if you have to look at that for much longer.

Astarion seems unable to resist touching you, either, and his hand reaches out to tug on the chain of your necklace which holds your wedding ring. It must have snaked its way out from under the collar of your dress at some point during the night. He rolls the gold band between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

“You’re wearing your ring,” Astarion states the obvious, his voice low and husky with some emotion you can’t decipher.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not embarrassing, per say, but it does feel a bit like Astarion has broken his way past your ribcage and is staring directly at your beating heart.

“When did you start doing that?”

He tilts his head and one, single white curl dislodges itself from his meticulously styled hair. You watch it fall gently, like a feather floating through the air.

“About a week after…” you trail off. It was still weird to admit it out loud. About a week after you were married. It had been a couple months since that day and everything after has felt like a feverish dream.

You can’t focus when Astarion is looking at you like this- eyes all warm and rich and red like the fading embers of a fire. And the loose curl that caresses the skin of his ear is just taunting you so sweetly. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, reaching out to brush it back into place and ghosting over the shell of Astarion’s ear. You catch his slight shiver.

Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.

“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

Wife.

He called you that so rarely and combined with the rosemary and bergamot lingering in the air after him, you feel a bit dizzy.

Oh, it’s the first time he’s called you that without a hint of teasing or sarcasm. No, tonight he said it almost with reverence- as if you were a gift to him. He had said it like a true husband might. That silly sense of hope thrums again in your veins.

But hope for what? That this marriage built on deception and hatred might turn itself around into something based in love? You chastise yourself for feeding into girlish fantasies. You needed to stop reading so many romance books.

No, you were just relieved that Astarion and you had managed to grow into something that could be considered a friendship. That he respected you enough to give you back the control that so many husbands wielded viciously over their wives. You were content since you were safe, and never pressured into uncomfortable circumstances, and spent your days doing whatever you wished.

You did not really want Astarion to kiss you.

It is the baser, lonely part of you that wants him to kiss you, that wants to hold him, that cries out for his touch. You would want to kiss anyone after taking a midnight stroll in a romantic garden. Astarion just happened to make it especially confusing by being the most beautiful man in the world.

And yet, you still yearn for his attention, you long for his smiles like a flower chases after the sun. And was his smile not capable of rivaling the sun? The pure joy, the pure energy surging beneath the surface.

No, when Astarion smiled, the sun itself bowed her head in surrender to his beauty.

—------------------

Gale might have been right, though you were loath to admit it.

You really did have a hard time sitting still for your portrait. It was only a couple hours each day in the afternoon, but all the sitting and doing nothing felt like torture. You could have done it if you had been allowed a book, but the stupid artist needed to be able to see your stupid face.

On the second afternoon, Astarion wanders in, inspecting the painting critically, eyes narrowed and a hand held up to his chin as he scrutinizes it.

“The shade of her eyes is all wrong,” he finally says with a displeased frown.

“I’m sorry, my lord, the painting isn’t finished yet.” The artist attempts to defend himself but you can tell he quickly sets to work correcting the ‘mistake.’

Astarion comes in the next day, and the next, and the next and just watches over the artist’s shoulder. The poor man is sweating so bad he’s creating a small puddle on the floor. It’s rather amusing. You have to refrain from laughing the whole time.

The man can’t seem to be able to paint a single detail without Astarion critiquing his choices and giving corrections. It’s a flurry of ‘see how her mouth moves up in the corner when she smiles,’ and ‘no, look again at how the candlelight moves against her skin,’ and ‘her hair doesn’t curl around her face like that, you’ve made her look like a poodle.’

You’ve come to think that Gale was wrong and perhaps Astarion is the worst kind of fine art snob who believes they could do everything better than the actual artists. And granted, he probably could- Astarion was also the annoying type of person who was preternaturally gifted at everything they tried.

When Astarion finally deigns the painting satisfactory after many, many days of nit-picking, you’re allowed to see the final product. It truly is a marvelous piece. You are sure you have never looked more beautiful- not even at the ball where you met Astarion or on your wedding night. No, in this painting, you can only be described as ethereal, a small scrap of the heavens that created Astarion.

It feels as if you are seeing yourself anew, through the eyes of someone who loves you.

“I expect nothing less than perfection when it comes to you, my love,” Astarion says, a gentle hand on your waist as he stands behind you and keenly observes your reaction.

But the painting is not what has pulled the air from your lungs.

My Love.

That's new. In your time as a married woman, you had grown accustomed to the endearments that Astarion loved to dole out and had deciphered his uses for each. He seemed to have a personal vendetta against calling you by your name.

Darling was for emphasis and dramatic effect. Dearest was a bit sarcastic and typically saved for use around others. Pet was for when he really wanted to be a condescending asshole or a teasing little shit.

Little flower was perhaps the closest thing to a real endearment that Astarion had in his vocabulary, saved for the soft moments when the mood between the two of you could perhaps be considered friendly.

But my love was unprecedented, uncharted territory.

And with the way Astarion is looking at you, with eyes so open that his soul is practically bleeding out of them, you wonder if for the first time he actually means what he is saying. That maybe some part of his heart does hold affection for you. It seems impossible.

He spends the rest of the evening peppering darlings and my dears in nearly every sentence, like he’s overcompensating for the slip up earlier.

Your portrait is hung next to his in the gallery. And you do have to admit that the two of you look wonderful together.

—----------------------

You don’t like when Astarion leaves on trips. Especially since he never wants to take you with him. Apparently, you had annoyed Astarion so much about the issue that he now resorted to not even telling you when he was going to leave.

Instead, you awoke one afternoon to Shadowheart informing you that he was away on business for the next few days. You’re fairly certain he’s lying- that whatever he’s out doing involved those maps and papers you found on his desk when you had broken into his study.

You’re a bit peeved that he didn’t even bother to leave you a goodbye note but mostly, you want him to come back.

You know he will arrive home with a flourish and an extravagant gift. His last trips had awarded you with a lovely new silk dress, a newly released book, and a tiara, of all things. Out of the three, the book was the only item that was really useful and you had spent a few nights reading it to Astarion while his head rested in your lap. Though, you did wear the dress and tiara to dinner after you had received each and the pleased mood it put Astarion in was worth dressing up for no reason.

This time, Astarion has been gone for two days and you feel as if you are going to lose your mind with how desperately you need him to come back.

You’re pacing the length of the drawing room, working your lip between your teeth and focusing on how you want Astarion back so you can yell at him for leaving without telling you and not because you miss the little grins he gives you when you see him in the hallway. Or the way he’s started tracing patterns on the inside of your palm when you sit together after you read. Or how he sometimes stares at you with such awe you feel as though he is looking at your very soul.

You do not miss Astarion. It just… feels wrong when he isn’t around.

You’re still pacing and deeply rationalizing how much you definitely do not miss him when you hear the front door open. Your body begins moving before your brain could even register what you were doing.

The sight before you is a nightmare. Astarion’s arm is wrapped around a woman’s shoulder and she’s supporting most of his weight as she drags him through the door. You recognize her instantly due to her imposing frame. You had seen her around the manor from time to time when she would visit for those secret meetings that she, and the mean-looking woman, and two-color eyed man had with Astarion.

She had always been kind to you when you had seen her around, always quick to offer up a smile. But not now. Her forehead is creased deeply with worry and you faintly register her yelling for help over the ringing in your ears.

Astarion looks bad, which is a word you never thought could be used to describe him. His skin is already so pale, but now, he looks nearly white and there’s blood splattered across his face. His free hand is clutching at his side in a way that implies he’s been badly wounded.

You’re frozen in fear. What could you possibly do to help?

Shadowheart, who must have been on her way to bring you tea as you paced, immediately shoves the tray onto the first surface she can find.

“What happened?” Her voice is grim and she’s rushing forward, helping to support Astarion’s weight on the other side. He lets out a pitiful groan of pain as they settle him on a couch.

“Got ambushed on the way back. Too many of them, we couldn’t fight them off,” the tall woman answers.

But her explanation seems… off. Astarion’s carriage is grand, sure, and robbers like to target the wealthy, especially in the dead of night. But you had a hard time believing this woman would be incapable of fighting off a couple street thugs. An attack that would warrant this level of injury seems much more organized.

No. Something else is going on. What sort of business was Astarion tangled up in?

Shadowheart is a blur as she bustles around, collecting herbs, cloth bandages, and a needle and thread. You never knew she was a healer. Was everyone around here keeping secrets from you?

And you’re just standing there, uselessly, incapable of doing anything other than watch as your own heart bleeds out in front of you.

Your feet do manage to carry you to Astarion’s side and you try to stay out of Shadowheart’s way as she works, but all you want right now is to pull him into your arms and soothe the pain on his face.

“Astarion?” you call his name, your shaky hand reaching out to move a stray curl away from his face. It looks all wrong- his white hair drenched with red blood. His eyes crack open and a dreamy smile spreads across his face when he sees you.

“Come to grace your dying husband with a kiss, sweet wife?” Astarion’s eyes are hazy, but you can still detect a teasing sparkle in them. You’re relieved for a moment, because his condition surely can’t be that bad if he’s still managing to tease you.

You let out a laugh. “Leave it to you to be flirting on your deathbed.”

Shadowheart’s worried voice breaks you out of your momentary comfort. “He needs blood, desperately.”

“We need to get someone from the village,” you say, making a motion to get up and go call for someone, but Astarion’s hand is wrapping gently around your wrist. His grip is worryingly loose and you can tell it’s all the strength he’s able to muster right now.

“Not enough time,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her voice is fraught with anxiety and it sends a needle of ice through you. Shadowheart didn’t scare easily. “He needs blood now.”

“Can you?” you ask and she shakes her head again.

“My blood’s no good and neither is Karlach’s,” Shadowheart nods her chin up at the tall woman.

“Is there anyone here who can give him blood?” You cry out. Someone had to be able to help- Gale, Halsin, another servant.

“Just you.”

When you look down at Astarion, there’s a cold hand squeezing at your heart and you realize that you don’t have a choice. You grab the dagger that’s strapped to Astarion’s belt- which, why did he have a dagger if he was going on a normal business trip? You glide the sharp edge along your palm, ignoring the sting of pain as you cut it open.

His eyes are closed as you squeeze your palm shut to help the blood pool and drip onto his lips. Almost immediately, his eyes are shooting open and he’s dragging your palm to his mouth.

It’s obscene to watch him- he lets out a groan as his soft tongue swirls and sucks against your skin. In another time, in another circumstance, there would be that familiar desire pooling deep within you as you watched him.

Suddenly, the idea of Astarion drinking anyone else’s blood ever again fills you with a jealousy so deep that you’re scared of what you might do if you get your hands on that unlucky soul.

A bit of color returns to his face and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, seemingly as thanks. Later that night, as you sit at his bedside as he recovers, you’ll be pressing your own lips to the same spot, as if that silly act could imitate the feel of his lips against your own.

Astarion’s eyes are still hazy and unfocused as he purrs, “Delicious, of course. I can only think of one other way I could devour you that would be better than that.”

The fact that he loses consciousness immediately after saying that probably has the opposite effect than he intended. You’ll have to tease him about that after he wakes up. And he will wake up. Because you can’t bear with the thought of a life without him.

---------------

Notes:

Okay, I fully recognize that Dracula didn't come out until 1897 and I did say this was a regency AU, but we are simply ignoring inconvenient facts for the sake of a bad joke. Sorry, I get make to the rules around here!

This chapter was so much fun to write because I'm a slut for yearning but I can't even describe how excited I am to share chapter 5 next week!!!!!! It's a doozy! We finally get a peak into Astarion's smooth little brain and well… I did promise eventual smut. I hope you all know how much I appreciate everyone who reads this little story and I hope everyone is having as much fun with this as I am!

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading! She is my live studio audience cheering in the comments of the absurdly long google doc where I keep this fic and, for that, I love her.

Taglist: @idkbrodontaskme @ayselluna @maruichio @fanfic-share

Just let me know in the comments or by shooting me a message if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist!

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #til death do us part

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nqmonarch · 3 months

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hello......... we meet again...........clown to clown communication............... youve infected me so bad with your yandere blade thoughts please i have to be euthanizeddd.......... please i need to know more of your thoughts on the matter so bad /nf

Hello again :) So I ended up turning a bunch of mini thoughts into a mini story, if you don't mind. If you want more just brainrot thoughts lmk and I can get those out of my brain as well

Originally I was going to publish it in one part however, it's getting a bit too long (6775 words) and I don't like having such long posts.

This is a lot of the leadup portion Part 2 will probably focus more on the Yandere although it starts to lean on that a bit in the end.

TW: Yandere, violence, manipulation, drugging all that kind of stuff.

Also spoilers for Blade and High Cloud Quintet's identity (I don't know exactly which quests I spoiled)

I think the big question first off is how do you even get Blade interested in you?

It could be the classic, knowing Blade in the past, being his lover or friend before he became mara struck. Maybe even being his rival, someone that loved to challenge him, and ended advocating for him to be allowed to die an honorable death out of admiration for your opponent. Either way he'd have lingering feelings for you.

But I like to think you met him by chance on the Xianzhou Luofu when he returned as Blade. Maybe you were a healer, that not only helped but put people out of their misery, peacefully. You were someone who specialized in working with mara struck, finding ways to suppress and calm it, staying by your patients side as they slowly lost their mind, and making sure they didn't hurt anyone. You were trained well in the ways of combat, after all you had to be in order to deal with mara.

Your goal was to help them come to terms with their death and once they had you would hand them off to the Ten Lords Commission. If they weren't ready, that was okay they could stick around. Either way when they'd fully transformed into a mara struck, you killed them. Only once they'd fully transformed would you be able to, otherwise they'd regenerate.

One day, you'd been wandering about when you found a curious person. Someone you knew well because their face was on countless wanted posters. You'd never done much research into the Stellaron Hunters but were surprised to see one of their members was afflicted with mara.

You weren't cruel. Instead you grabbed some medication and approached him, cautiously like how one would approach a stray cat. A few seconds after you'd begun walking toward him, he reached you. Tip of a blade pointed at your neck, grazing it, cool metal pressed against warm skin, it shook ever so slightly each movement threatening to draw blood. He was barely restraining himself, you weren't sure why he was even trying. But you did know that your head would be on the floor if he really wanted it there.

"Let me help?" Your tone was friendly, and you held up the bag of medicine in your hand. Your words didn't register with him, you doubted he could even see your lips moving. But the most important thing was to have a nonthreatening presence.

For mara struck you could strangely talk your way out of it. You were surrounded by mara while working, to the point you stunk of it. For some reason mara struck soldiers never attacked you unprovoked, it was a strange phenomena and that was the only reason you could think of.

Unfortunately, it didn't work for you this time, and you quickly found yourself trying to outrun one of the most dangerous men alive. Oopsie? At least it was kind of fun! This exhilaration was really nice, you should get in near death experiences more often! You felt the wind whip around you as the hunter was hot on your trail.

You wouldn't be able to outrun him much longer, the only reason you'd gotten this far was because he'd been in the middle of swinging his sword at you. So your only option was to unconsensually drug him. That sounded really bad. But your life was at risk! You slipped one of the pills into your hand, it was one of the heavier ones that would cause the patient to pass out. There were some cases where even your medicine couldn't comfort, then the best thing would be sleep.

With a minor turn of your ankle you swung around and placed your hand in his mouth, opening it, and getting the medicine in. He bit your hand near immediately, but you kept it still, even though his teeth would sharp as fuck you could feel them even inside your hand clenching down. You felt the warmth of blood, and waited a moment looking into his eyes.

You wouldn't hold it against him, he was mara struck. This was how they acted toward most people, not normally you, but it felt good to be treated like most people for once. You were normal. It was nice. Then he fell off your hand, tumbling straight backwards, and hitting the ground with a painful thud.

"Oooh, that's gotta hurt," You muttered, not entirely sympathetic to the man that just tried to kill you. But he was an interesting person. A Stellaron Hunter with mara, huh?

Maybe you didn't know as much about them as you thought. You slipped off the cloth bag around your shoulder and fixed it over his face. Then you grabbed him by the arms and began to drag him, his clothes dirtying upon the street floor, back to your little apothecary. Heavy.

You managed to lift him for a few moments to put him on a cot, before placing your hands on your knees, and taking a moment to catch your breath. You prepared some medicine in case if he was still mara struck and a glass of water. He woke up in only an hour, you were lucky to have enough time to finish bandaging your hand. Normally, it'd keep people out for six hours. The farther along they were the less productive it was. By all accounts he shouldn't be able to have a single moment of sanity.

Yet when he got up from the bed he seemed normal. Eerily so. You remained poise in a seat near his bed which he hadn't noticed. His eyes rested on the pills before looking around the rest of the room and reaching you. He reached for his blade, moving his hand next to his side and grabbing at empty air. Thankfully, you'd already removed the blade from this room, he was probably more deadly when he had his wits about him.

You chuckled at his response, feeling your nerves heighten as you resisted the urge to run away. Maybe this was a bad idea. "Hello there, good sir!" You greeted chipperly, "I saw you passed out on the side walk and dragged you back to my humble abode! Is there anything I can do for you?" You kept on your 'being yelled at by a 500 year old Xianzhou long life mother whose kid had just been told they couldn't throw stuff at people' smile.

He remained quiet for a moment, assessing to see whether or not you were a threat moving his eyes up and down, "...My sword?"

"What sword?" You replied back innocently. No way were you giving that back.

He let out a sigh, getting up from the bed, and heading to the door. The good news was he didn't try to attack you, the bad news was that the most fascinating mara struck victim was leaving. You couldn't let that happen.

You raced in front of him, putting your hands and waving them defenselessly. He looked down at you, red eye glaring down at you as if you were obsolete. You laughed again, "Well, uh, good sir, as someone that helped you can I at least know the name of uh--"

"Get out of my way -- knowing me won't do any good." He was definitely going to kill you if you didn't move. But you couldn't just let him leave!

Your smile grew even further, holding your cheeks up painfully, "Well-- you see-- you're so beautiful!" You said desperately, "I was taken by you-- love at first sight, you see? Right? You're just-- so wonderful!" You stammered out, voice shaking, "Can I at least know the name of the breath taking soul who stole my heart!"

The long blue haired man froze in his path, hair swaying to a halt behind him. No fucking way that got him. He seemed befuddled, glancing further away from you, eyes focused on a small portion of the floor. "Blade." IT WORKED?!

Blade remained quiet for a moment longer before turning his head back to you, "Now move." Of course it didn't work, if it worked you would've been in a relationship by now.

He side stepped you easily, leaving you to stare at his broad back, clothes tight around his muscles. Now wasn't the time to think about that. "You have mara right? I can cure it." It was a bold claim. You'd never done anything like that before, and his case was more severe than others.

He stopped in his steps, "What?" One deadly word made you almost want to take back everything you said but you couldn't. Blade experienced mara differently than others, that was clear. If you had the chance to work alongside him then maybe... you could figure something out?

Even though you portrayed yourself as undisturbed by your job getting to know so many people and then watching them turn into monsters was horrifying. Blade was interesting, you'd hate to call him a test subject but, if he consented he'd likely end up helping your understanding of mara. You just needed a reason for him to stay.

"I work with mara stricken citizens and soldiers. I've researched it for my whole life and I use this knowledge to aid others, helping alleviate their pain, calm themselves, or sleep when mara takes them," That was convincing enough, right?

He appeared skeptical, still poised to attack even without his sword. But as you continued smiling, a hopeful yet scared look in your eyes he let out a sigh.

"Can you kill them?"

You paused a bit, understanding his intention, "Only when they're fully taken by the mara." Otherwise they'd only heal, "I can alleviate your pain until then." You were shocked at how self assured you sounded, as if you could genuinely help him rather than just use him for discoveries.

Blade remained quiet and unmoving, a statue with the first rays of sunlight hitting it and breaking it free from darkness, "Okay." His voice was quieter than it'd been this entire time, you thought you'd misheard him.

"Okay?" You repeated, as if what you'd heard was a dream.

"Keep your distance." He stepped out of the sun and toward your door frame before pausing glancing back for such a short time you thought you'd imagined it, "I will return, if it's what you want."

It was strange, Blade had a peaceful sleep unplagued by dreams of dying and pain. If there was a chance it was because of you and you really wanted to meet him again, then he shouldn't resist too hard, right?

You felt a smile grow on your face lifting up its corners as the swordsman continued to walk away, "Yes! That's wonderful!" Then you paused realization sinking in, "Oh, Blade!" You called out, hoping he wouldn't kill you for this, "Your sword's by the door!"

You saw him glare at you and instinctively shut your eyes preparing for a sword to be lodged between your eyes. But when you opened them neither he or his sword were to be found.

Part of you expected him to never return and he didn't tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow he didn't come back. You wanted to give up hope. It made sense and was likely better for your safety but, Blade was the breakthrough you were looking for.

You smiled at the elderly Xianzhou long life that you were walking with through one of the fake gardens on the ship. They continued to rattle on about their great granddaughter and how hard she'd been training to be a cloud knight. To care about someone's progress, such that the smallest milestones mean as much to you as they do to them-- that must be love right? You were a bit envious. You wanted to love like this old soul. Someone who had nearly lost their mind the other day to mara but could continue going on, loving, and hoping.

That day was the day they left, agreeing to be taken away by the Ten Lords Commission. It was bittersweet, as it always was and you were alone, again. That was alright though.

What wasn't alright was being woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of footsteps. Someone had broken in. They weren't well, they sounded limp, as if they were dragging one leg. But since you hadn't heard the door being broken down, they'd likely come in through the window you tended to leave open. Look-- people on the Luofu don't normally resort to these matters and if they did then they wouldn't go after you.

It meant whoever came was both highly skilled and injured. With careful steps, putting your feet down gently and slowly one in front of the other, you approached the trespasser.

You smelled the blood first, the faint irony scent that made your noise scrunch up momentarily as your mouth imitated the taste of blood. Then you saw it. The small dark red trail that gleamed in the moonlight. Then him.

You felt rather satisfied, even in a state where he was taken over by mara Blade had somehow made it back here, "I knew you'd come back," You spoke playfully.

At the sight of agony in his eyes, a pang of guilt struck your heart. It really wasn't the time to be joking around. Perhaps there was some sanity still left in him, as his whole body shook, shaking even more as you approached closer and closer. Part of him must want to attack you, to kill you, to rip you apart until you were nothing, but he wasn't.

"Good," You commended him, as you stood in front of him and knelt down, aside from the shaking Blade remained still. He looked like he wanted to scream, hurt himself, kill himself, rip himself apart until nothing remained. Did he want to die more than he wanted to hurt you? Was experiencing mara that painful? You'd never know.

"I just need you to do one small thing for me okay," You spoke gently, even though you knew he likely couldn't hear your voice at all.

You thumbed through the few medications you always kept handy in your pouch, and picked one for pain relief. Last time you'd needed him to sleep or you'd die, this time you could see the effect of what they did. You moved the pill into his mouth and saw him struggle to swallow, you weren't moving your hands close to his face though for some reason you had a feeling he might bite them off-- like a dog would.

He was a lot more like a dog than you expected. The medicine had been able to work, body instantly relaxing, to your surprise. The more surprising thing was what happened after. Blade visited you, more often out of his own free will, not just when he was mara struck.

Blade was an awkward companion, terrible at small talk, and you couldn't take care of patients when he was near for fear they might see the Stellaron Hunter. Sometimes he would mumble under his breath about a price, or bring you small things, little trinkets, food, a severed hand-- A SEVERED HAND?!

"Why are you giving me this?" You looked down at the bloody hand he was holding onto, your eyebrow twitching slightly. You were used to blood and all but this was unnecessary.

He looked up at you, partially confused and disgruntled at your obvious disapproval, "He bothered you?" His statement came out more as a question.

Oh. It was him-- You let out an aggravated sigh, "You didn't get caught right?"

You noticed Blade perk up ever so slightly as if he thought what he did was right, "No."

That was good at least. "Don't do that again." What was he a dog? Or maybe a cat was better, bringing you pieces of their hunt. Now that you think about it, where did he get those trinkets from? It was probably best not to think about. "Go put that away," You said dismissively, moving your hand up to touch your forehead lightly.

You were going to regret this weren't you? Well, that was a problem for future you. You weren't sure exactly where Blade put the severed hand but as long as it was away from you it didn't matter. For a moment you considered asking him for help, to maybe capture a mara struck so you could test to see if anything would work on it. But that was too far, wasn't it?

The days carried on and so did Blade visiting you. He'd come to you for medications that alleviated his pain or helped him sleep without his memories tormenting them and you obliged monitoring him all the while. Then one day he started to request it.

"Kill me," He'd spoke suddenly, as you were leaning over some finely grounded herbs trying to come up with something new to keep stronger pain at bay. Your medicine's effectiveness was starting to wear off on Blade.

You flinched spilling the small specks to the ground and staring at him in the eyes, "Excuse me?"

You didn't think he'd hated spending time with you that much! Sure, you were kind of using him, and you got upset at him whenever he brought you something drenched in blood but who wouldn't?! You thought the two of you were getting along just fine! You'd even consider him a friend... A strong word for a Stellaron Hunter. You knew he'd have to leave the Xianzhou Luofu eventually too.

"You can do it," There was a slimmer of affection in his voice it made you almost think you misheard the part about you killing him, "If anyone can, you can." It was oddly affectionate. You kind of despised how he spoke, as if he would never speak to you again.

You let out a small laugh, "Shut up Blade." Drop the conversation topic.

But he kept pushing, "Find a way to kill me." Blade took a step closer to you, and for the first time since you met him, you felt in danger.

"And what if I said no? Remember, I'm uh... head over heels for you," You said lightheartedly referencing to your excuse when you'd first met him. "I wouldn't be able to bare it if you died!" You smiled up at him, squinting your eyes.

Normally, you'd be a bit peeved that your sample had been knocked over but right now you were unnerved, and much worse, worried.

It looked like he was more in pain from your words with the way he grimaced at them. "Please." It was wholly desperate and vulnerable, a statue split open to reveal a bleeding heart which begged to be free from its misery. If you stabbed it the statue and everything around it would crumble. Not that there was much around it to begin with but-- there was you.

But Blade was your friend, in a very odd way you'd started to care for the strange man, "I'll try." He was in pain, it'd be wrong to let him just suffer, right?

Plus, you'd already collected enough data... You knew when medicines would stop being effective on the normal mara struck Xianzhou long lives and what to swap to. You hadn't found a solution but you'd found something that could better keep their sanity while they were in that state, even if it required the rare, Vidyhara bone marrow. You'd begun to find something that could supplement that as well, although you'd only heard of it in books you had to find Scalegorge Water Scape.

It was okay. You had all the information from Blade you needed. This was fine. This friendship always had an expiration date. His smile made it all worth it anyway. It was really the first time you'd seen him smile and for once he looked relieved, completely relaxed.

"Thank you," Foreign words from him, "When the mara strikes... It's no longer me." But what if you could fix that?

If you helped him keep his sanity then you couldn't use the pills to keep away the pain, or the ones to sleep. They couldn't clash. Maybe you had to figure out how to make it so multiple could be taken? Your mind raced for a different solution but in the end all you could do is smile back. Blade smiling was a beautiful sight. One you thought you'd never be able to see.

That night you cried. You hadn't seen Blade happy before. So why was he only happy at the idea of death? But you were a doctor you would remain stony cold and do the best you could.

It didn't work. Of course, it didn't. Why would it? You could've sworn his heart stopped for a bit, a few minutes after passing out after swallowing your "medicine." Was it really medicine if it killed someone? But he lived and he woke up coughing blood.

Blade wasn't happy but at the same time he seemed rather relieved..? You hated it. Someone too used to dying by the hands of a sword, by the strokes they were used to performing, that poison was a soothing way to die. You absolutely despised Blade. But you smiled and told him you'd try harder. You just didn't know what to do.

A few days after your promise Blade came back with a strange gift for you, a book titled Views of the Universe From a Starskiff. At the time he brought it, he'd been in pain, grunting, and making too much noise for you to have any patients over. You'd stopped taking patients recently anyway. Instead only selling medicine promising you'd been on the edge of a break through and needed more time.

His memory had been scattered and he didn't recognize you. He'd swung his sword at you only to stop a moment before it hit you. You were right. When you'd originally met him, if he wanted you dead he could've killed you. You could still feel the air sweep by your head, and the cool blade on your skin. He didn't remember why he brought the book to you and when he returned to a better state of mind, you decided not to ask.

Instead you did some research on your own, and it lead you to an interesting person. Someone you really didn't want to talk to.

You shifted uncomfortably under the amber gaze of the general, "Do what do I owe the pleasure General?" Your voice was stiff, and shoulders tense as he only smiled in response.

"General is a temporary title, you can just call me Jing Yuan." You smiled in response, corner of your lip twitching a bit.

"Right, so what do I owe the pleasure, Jing Yuan?" Your smile strained further but all he did was laugh causing your smile to shift into a scowl.

Jing Yuan smiled down at you, not the least imposing, "Relax, I was just curious about some activity around this area." Did Blade kill someone without you knowing?

Throughout the whole conversation you remained tense as the general idly brought up his younger days as part of the High-Cloud Quintet. He was clearly just talking about this sort of stuff to get you to let down your guard! You looked at him warily, paying special attention to every individual word looking for hidden meaning. Eventually you found the hidden meaning. He was helping you.

The author of the book you'd been researching, Views of the Universe From a Starskiff was named Baiheng. "You knew this whole time," You muttered, a bit peeved, you'd thought you'd done a good job hiding Blade's presence and yet this old man somehow managed to figure it out.

The General simply smiled in response as you tried to clarify the situation further, "So Yingxing is--"

He stood up from his seat, "It matters not. The past is the past." Yeah, you probably shouldn't talk about this. You stood up as well.

"I'll walk you out," You spoke, still wary of the man but if he wanted to hurt or expose you, he would've done so already. "...Is it really your place to tell me this though?"

Jing Yuan paused as if in contemplation, still smiling, it was eerie how he could smile after everything. He was an unbreakable monument dedicated to the Xianzhou Luofu, "Who else could?" No one else would remember nor be able to share, so was that why he decided to step forward?

You opened the door for him, feeling the sun greet you again. "I hope it brings you peace." Your voice was sudden, as you looked at the man with new found appreciation. Even the hardiest statues still had bleeding hearts.

You would kill Blade. If it was the last thing you did.

You grinned rushing over to the blue haired man, the scent of iron around him. You told him that if he made anyone bleed before coming to visit you that he should bathe. You'd have to check if he was bleeding. "Blade!" You greeted him cheerfully, rushing over, and grabbing onto his arm. He stiffened.

You dragged him over to your work station moving your hand gradually down his forearm and to his wrist to be able to pull him better. His hand reached out for yours, and latched onto your wrist instead. The two of you were friends. Killing him was the right thing to do. But if he didn't want to die, you wouldn't mind Blade sticking around. You would take care of him as you would a patient.

"Do you still want to die?" You might as well check, there was no harm in it, maybe he'd stay after all.

To your dismay, he nodded, it was cold and steady. Your smile stiffened but remained on your face, this was fine. It was what you expected.

"I'll still do my best to help you," You promised him, truly meaning your words. It was just, you didn't have any idea of how to proceed. Maybe, the mara struck would have an answer but even you weren't foolish enough to wander into their hordes. Sure, you were lucky that the mara struck seemed not to attack you normally but luck couldn't be all you relied on. "But, in order to do so I need to observe mara stricken more up close," You admitted, that was your best bet, "Could you help me with that?"

Blade was strong. You'd seen the way his muscles flexed and tensed under his shirt whenever he made a swing with his blade. This would be easy work for him. The selfish part of you was happy you could spend more time with him too.

That started the third phase of your friendship with Blade. The first being the initial visits, the second being your attempt to kill him, and the third being yielding him as if he was a blade. It made you feel kind of guilty. Speaking commands beneath your voice of who you needed restrained, looking down at abominations as you tested new pills on them to see the effects. They'd writhe as Blade held them on and you watched onward apathetically. They were monsters, you shouldn't care about their pain.

Then you'd try to kill Blade. Again and again. Seeing him cough up blood and lay motionless on one of your cots. Or seeing wounds reopen over his body, blooming as if they were flowers. It was sickening. You didn't know how many times you did it nor how many times you could continue trying to do it. He would bare his teeth, biting down on cloths, letting out whimpers, blood slowly covering everything close to him.

"I can't do it." Maybe if you were competent it would be okay, you could give Blade the freedom he deserved away from the pain and mara and biting harsh memories. But you weren't a competent enough doctor. Nor were you a good enough friend to tell Blade to the face.

It had been a cold night on the Xianzhou Luofu when you decided to leave. There'd been a lot of commotion recently, the Ambrosial Arbor had risen and fallen again. Blade had been more distant, visiting less often, as if there was something he was keeping from you. How he made your heart ache.

You loved him. That was why you had to do this. You stopped by the divination commission on your way out, a letter from Jing Yuan in your hand. You'd never met Master Diviner Fu Xuan before nor were you looking forward to doing so. If she could see your memories that would mean Blade would be at risk. But you had to know if this would lead you down the path where Blade died.

But you didn't end up meeting Master Diviner Fu Xuan at all. Instead you met a much taller, purple haired woman, with hazy eyes. She greeted you as if you were a friend, and you approached her with caution smiling in response. "I know you," your voice was laced in excitement, "Kafka, the Stellaron Hunter! A bounty of 10 billion, right?" Why did she have to show up now?

You held your hand out with a smile, "I've heard wonderful things about you, you're even more beautiful in real life than on the poster!" Your heart raced trapped in your ribcage, thrumming against it nervously. This certainly complicated your plan.

"Hi, Y/N. I've been meaning to meet you," Her voice was sultry yet teasing, which was more menacing than if it'd been cold and harsh like Blade's. She knew your name too, that must not be a good sign.

She remained back against a wall, small smile on her face as if she was toying with you. You dropped your hand back down to your side. "Is there anything I can do for the esteemed Stellaron Hunter?" You really just wanted this to be over with.

"Not for me," She pushed herself off the door frame and you could see into the battered room. Blade was slouched over, eyes stapled shut, the small shakes his tense body let out were barely noticeable.

You were by his side in an instant, kneeling before him before you could even think, hand resting gently on his chin. Since when had you begun to care so much for him? Was it when he'd gotten slashed in the arm by a mara stricken soldier due to your negligence? Or had you cared for him before you ever met him?

You had half the medicine on you, half back at your place in case he ever returned in search of relief. The half on you was for research but it would be better used for something like this wouldn't it? You glanced behind you feeling eyes stare into your back, and Kafka simply smiled as her eyes met yours.

"Well, Bladie's never been so obedient," She replied simply at your questioning look, causing your shoulders to tense.

You turned your attention back to the patient in question only to be met with a red eye gazing into yours, his face much closer than you remembered it being. You stood your ground looking into his eyes with a harsh look, did he really have to always go and get himself hurt? You could smell the blood on him.

"Who... are you?" Sometimes symptoms of mara included memory loss so you weren't surprised by the question but it still hurt. But it surely didn't hurt as much as Blade was hurting right now, you could see his wince as he accidentally glanced at the light behind you.

You slipped a pill between your fingers, "It doesn't matter, I'm here to help you," You replied simply, lifting your hand up to his mouth, "Now open."

Once Blade became more docile around you during his mara episodes you'd started to deliver his medicine this way. Originally, you hadn't done so since you valued your fingers. He opened his mouth without a second thought, albeit he looked rather confused as to why he complied.

You glanced down at his faint pink lips a sheen covering them, he really was beautiful. If only he could experience the beauty of the world at full. The pill was placed between two of your fingers and you brought it up to his lips, pushing past them, and his teeth leaving the pill in a good place for him to swallow. This was how it always was.

You felt his tongue move as he swallowed it without a second thought and you removed your fingers like normal, except. You glared at him, keeping your hand still. Apparently you still had to worry about him biting your fingers off. "Blade," You spoke warningly feeling the teeth pressed threateningly into your index finger, the other finger escaping freely.

He didn't respond and you swore you heard a laugh behind you which only further irked you. He wasn't biting down hard enough to hurt or draw blood but you knew the second you tried to move it he would. Instead of responding by letting go Blade only looked up at you like a dejected puppy. His bandaged hand reached up and grabbed yours, you could see faint blood stains near the edge of where it reached his wrist and disappeared beneath his sleeves.

"Don't bite me," Your voice was stern as you looked down at the blue haired man, only growing more remorseful by the moment. It was strange behavior, a kind he hadn't exhibited before, but he hadn't forgotten you before either.

This time his teeth let go of your finger, leaving it slightly warm and wet in his hand's hold as he clutched onto desperately as if he was afraid you'd disappear before his eyes. It should only take ten minutes for the medicine to leave him vulnerable and helpless, yet he was already so docile. You had to wonder if he knew you were planning on leaving.

You let out a quiet sigh, keeping your voice low as these words were only for Blade and you. Your hand reached to brush his hair off to the side, resting along his jawline near his ear. You moved close enough so that he could feel even the slightest inhale and exhale against his ear, "I'm doing this because I love you."

It was a shitty excuse but it was closest to the truth wasn't it? Maybe if Jing Yuan hadn't told you the truth then you wouldn't be so determined to help Blade. Maybe you would've cried to Blade that you couldn't keep failing to kill him because you didn't even want him dead in the first place. You wanted Blade by your side.

"I'll figure it all out, I promise." It was the most loving your voice had ever been yet when you met his eyes again you didn't see a subdued look instead a more panicked one took its place. It didn't take long for you to be entrapped completely, arms holding and rooting you in place, leaving you unable to move.

It was as if he was trying to merge your bodies into one. So you'd never be apart again. Your nose resting above his shoulder as the rest of you was pressed into him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer and tightening. It hurt a bit. They continued to squeeze you, hands pressed against your sides gripping onto them.

"Gentle," You reminded him, voice tickling his ear, and as he eased his hold, Blade's head collapsed against your shoulder, hot breath hitting your neck. It took you a few moments to realize he was crying. That the sudden small burn against your skin was tears.

He spoke in a broken voice, "Who are you?" You began to cry too, wrapping your arms around him with equal need.

"It doesn't matter, I'm going to help you." Your voice must've sounded ugly as well, off pitch from emotion.

"You... can't leave." They weren't words you expected, but you noticed his grip loosen on you anymore as time continued onward.

You couldn't reply. You had to leave right now, the answers you were searching for weren't here. They lay with Yaoshi and the lands Yaoshi had touched. If you could journey to those and research the people and mara there... you would be able to kill Blade. You didn't want to kill him. But to leave him in this agony was more painful for the both of you.

"You..." Blade looked up at you, head tilted, agony in his eyes, "don't... ...leave." You smiled down at him, unable to find the words and instead moved your lips to press against his tearstained cheek.

At your lack of response you felt his head tilt and his breath hit your shoulder. Then he bit. It didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. You thought his aim would be to tear through your skin and take your flesh with him, leaving a bloody hole in his wake. But instead it was a persistent gentle movement, desperate to leave an imprint, to keep you here, to convince you. The both of you knew he'd pass out in a minute or two, the decision would be up to you after that. So he pressed his teeth into your skin, removing them for a second and pressing again, hot tongue licking your skin in between the pattern. You really shouldn't be feeling these sorts of things at a time like this but you couldn't help the heat rising to your face.

There... wasn't any harm in this right? "...You're beautiful," You muttered, only able to see his long hair you rested a hand on it. You moved your hand through it slowly, untangling any knots you came across. "Really," His body collapsed into yours, completely devoid of any strength, "I love you," You couldn't help but smile despite the tears.

It was hard to hold his body up by yourself. You were strong but Blade with all his muscle mass was heavy, either way you placed him back down on the seat without aggravating any injuries further.

Then you stood up and turned your back, ignoring the minor twitching and hand reaching out for your warmth that came from his subdued body. Kafka, had turned her back to the two of you, instead looking outside as if she was searching for someone.

"All done?" She asked, voice playful when you joined her outside. Yet you felt some type of understanding from her.

You nodded and handed her the pouch of medicine, "I am, instructions are in the bag," you said you'd brought it along for research but hadn't that just been an excuse? If you'd seen Blade again you could've given it to him. "There's some more at where I stayed."

She looked back at Blade, lying motionlessly, "Well, you have made my job a lot easier."

"Take good care of him," You replied, beginning to walk off.

"Bladie will be awfully sad to hear you left," Kafka called out, her voice carried its usual lilt but you sensed a strange seriousness to it.

If anyone had ever told you you'd fall in love with a Stellaron Hunter you probably would've believed them. If they told you, you'd be trying to kill the person you were in love with, you would've hated yourself. "I know, but this is the way I show my love." But... wasn't this the best solution?

You decided to not go see Master Diviner Fu Xuan, having run into the Stellaron Hunters so recently probably would make it easier for her to see them in her divination. At least you assumed so, you didn't know much about divination. The night was quiet and dark aside from one gray haired individual walking toward where you'd just been, looking around anxiously with each step. When you reached the starskiff you didn't look back.

Kafka played with the small pouch in her fingers, letting out a slight sigh. Everything was going as planned, albeit she couldn't help but feel a bit bad for Bladie. Her eyes darted to the source of sudden footsteps, finally, the Trailblazer was here. She couldn't interfere with what happened anyway it was best not to dwell on it.

You were part of the script. The ending Elio had promised, the one where Blade died.

Lots of notes here:

OKAY GUYS IDEA SO LIKE BLADE X READER BUT ALSO YAOSHI X READER (why do I simp for Yaoshi so much)

Like dude Yaoshi would love the way that reader treats the life they've curated and grown. While Yaoshi lets it grow without regard and only cares for the abundance they have to admit the life you cater to comes out more beautifully.

SCREAMS

Also sorry for the wait but I wasn't doing super okay mentally past week so I didn't write much, thank you guys for your patience! I had a lot of fun writing this, I know it really isn't thoughts or anything but I like having a story play out :D

And I also wanted the romance to seem organic and more natural even though it's yandere I wanted it to make sense. So I hope I managed to accomplish that even though I feel like it considerably lengthened this (especially nonyandere portion)

Was originally going to edit this but it turned out way too fucking long.

#hsr #hsr x reader #blade #blade x reader #yandere blade #soft yandere #long read #drugging but like its medicine it makes more sense in context #desperate blade #jing yuan is too good for us honestly i love that man he deserves so much better #unedited

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kitchenisking · 4 months

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Seires Fic Rec Part 13

Eighth Night of Chunnuka

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis - (Hot Nerd Alert) - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 4,537, sterek)

Derek can't believe he's actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it.

Inspired by this super cute fanart by prettiestalpha.

This is Home by JoMouse - (This is Home) - (Rating: T, Words: 3,451, sterek)

Derek gets a letter carrying a familiar scent from an unknown person. He drops everything and returns to Beacon Hills for the first time in fifteen years.

Written for A Very Sterek Summer. Day 5, Theme: Reunion.

If the ley lines you should follow by forestofbabel - ( Ley Lines ) - (Rating: T, Words: 52,111, sterek)

And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”

All I Ever Wanted by gabby227 - (Presidential Stiles and First Husband Derek) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 24,297, sterek)

Based on a request on tumblr:

In the midst of all of the Election 2016 craziness, I have discovered that I need President & First Husband Sterek. Either could have either position, but I’m really desperate for the ‘First Husband’ to be more interested in continuing their current career than getting involved in anything political. They show up for the really important stuff, but they don’t put much stock in the whole the ‘President’s spouse must do a political song and dance for the masses’.

Or, rather, the first of several stories surrounding presidential!Stiles and first husband!Derek.

Reunion by Rising_Phoenix - (The New Hale Pack) - (Rating: G, Words: 5,221, sterek)

Stiles is in Beacon Hills, just in time for his ten-year high school reunion. Having been convinced to show up there, he meets the last person he wants to me, one Scott McCall, the werewolf who once had been his best friend, his brother, before he had told him that humans can not be part of a pack and abandoned him after graduation. But it's Scott who will be surprised by not only Stiles being there, but also by the backup that has decided to show up supporting him...

Pretty Little Wolf by ItsMe_Basil - ( Pretty Little Wolf) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 82,164, sterek)

Derek has heard stories about the Spark -the kind of stories that would have his younger self cowering under the blankets. The kind of stories that had Derek stick close to the pack. But when Derek is in trouble, and the pack isnt around, Derek finds himself in the care of said Spark, and he finds out fairly quickly that he's not all he seems to be. Stiles, he finds out, isn't a villain at all. Derek's only heard one side of the story for four years, and now it's time for him to hear the other side from his mate. *-* "Pretty little wolf," he hummed, stepping closer and kneeling beside Derek. Even in his death fogged brain, he recognized the words spoken. The words that were tattooed along his hip bone. The man reached a hand out, long bony fingers brushing against Derek's jaw. That's when recognition dawned on him. He knew this boy -not personally, but he'd seen pictures. This was the Spark. The one Scott had warned him about since Derek had returned to Beacon Hills four years ago. His mate. "Fuck me," Derek gasped out, dropping his head on the step. "Let's get you better, first, shall we, Puppy?" The Spark hummed.

Not Quite According to Plan by Phlinting - (A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect ) - (Rating: Mature, Words: 23,261, sterek)

It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving.

But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed.

He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts.

It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...

Another Alpha by ThePornFairy - (Wash your hands) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,147, sterek)

When Stiles comes home with news, things don't exactly go as planned.

Wash your hands as thoroughly as Derek scrubs another alpha's scent off of Stiles skin

Blue Light (i'm waiting for it, that) by zanni_1 (zanni_scaramouche) - (In Your Eyes (the light, the heat) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 19,743, sterek)

Derek pays him to dance, Stiles enjoys the sex on the side, and that’s all that ties them together. Whatever else the enigmatic man does is none of Stiles’ fucking business.

Stiles works at a club owned by infamous Derek Hale, leader of the largest criminal organization this side of the country. As they twirl closer together police and rival gangs start to gain the upper hand, forcing everyone's loyalty to be questioned.

Body On My by nymphe - (Losin’ All My Innocence) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,333, sterek)

“I’m serious, Derek. Like really sensitive,” Stiles says, a little muffled by where he’s shoving his face into Derek’s shirt.

Stiles’ neck is sensitive. Derek takes advantage of it.

#sterek #derek hale #fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs #seriesficrec

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grey-spark · 2 years

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OMORI Color Symbolism

Some of this will be obvious. Some other stuff won’t be. Enjoy! (TW: Suicide, depression, OMORI spoilers)

White: Purity/ Sterility/ Dissociation

White is the color of OMORI. The game and the character. An oppressive white that banishes all impurities. White space is a place to become nothing. White is not good. At least not until later. White is simple like a tulip, and that’s probably why its Sunny’s favorite color, but Sunny has taken simplicity to a toxic new level. We also find another white flower, the Orchid Egret, a white flower that connects the dream world to the real one. Almost acting as an anchor, grounding the real world to Whitespace. At the end of the game, white and sterility is given a new meaning: redemption. It’s the sign of a clean slate. Sunny has come to terms with Mari’s death, his part in it, and has confessed. He can move on with his life.

Beige: The Past/ Dullness/ Decay

Beige is Sunny’s main color. Maybe even more than white. It’s the color that differentiates him from Omori. Unlike his evil doppelganger, Sunny is a person with memories. At the end of the game when the real Sunny explores his childhood home, all of his memories are cloaked in a sepia beige. It’s the color of old photos and old times. Towards the end, we seen the plant life surrounding basil’s forest die and decay into a sullen beige. Showing how his attachment to the past is stalling and killing his growth as a person. In the real world, Sunny wears beige cargo shorts, in a empty house with beige walls and floors. Lacking in color, the inside of Sunny’s house feels muted and dull in comparison to the vivid blues and greens just outside his front door.

Orange & Yellow: Joy/ Excitement/ Agitation

Orange is almost exclusively Kel’s color. Serving as a more fashionable alternative to yellow, it’s a bright, happy color that conveys the same positivity. Its warm and welcoming. It’s also the main color of the titular “Orange Oasis” an area of Headspace that’s easy going. But even in such an area, there is a truth teller, Mr. Outback, draped in orange. Poking holes in the fantasy and stirring up the waters. Orange is a loud, aggressive color, similar to red. It annoys and aggravates people. Just like Kel. But in doing so it can generate much needed disruption to break stagnation. Kel instigates the whole plot of the game, and in the end everyone is much happier for it.

Yellow is the game’s designated color for happiness, though sometimes it blends green into the happy symbolism as well. A core example is the sunflower, a yellow and green plant that Basil admires for its ability to see the bright side of things. There’s also Kel and Hero’s parents. In their family photo the parents wear yellow and green, subtly showing that the core value of the household is the happiness of the family above all else. Finally, there’s the Big Yellow Cat. The centerpiece of Sunny’s dream world, serving almost as an unofficial ruler of Headspace. Protecting the very precious thing Sunny treasures most, the happy memory of his old friends. It’s interesting to note that all three of Sunny’s childhood imaginary friends are babylike pastel primary colors. The cat is yellow, representing Sunny’s happiness in the dream world. Abbi’s tenacle is red, the arm of the wisest who was discontent with that world. And then we find Humphrey is a baby blue, the starving sadness that Sunny keeps tucked away at the bottom of it.

Blue: Sadness/ Truth

Blue is the color associated with sadness, and more importantly, the truth. All the horrific real world nighttime scenes are portrayed in blue on black. Meanwhile, the final hospital scene when Sunny confesses the truth is shown in blue on white. Visually showing the importance of truth in the story, as well as the suffocating sadness of the situation.

Hero is blue. A color that accentuates his masculinity and dependability reflected in his manly can-do attitude, though his conventional masculinity is often subverted by him wearing a feminine pink apron while cooking. However, the main reason he’s dressed in blue is because as mentioned before, it portrays his sadness. Hero is a character that is perpetually depressed. His intelligent mind over thinks things and blames himself. Mari’s death was no exception, so like Sunny, Hero seals himself away in a cocoon of sadness. Consider Humphrey, the big blue whale (the final boss of Headspace) that eats Sunny over and over again. Swallowing him deeper in a devouring cycle of depression. By escaping Humphrey, Sunny gets a chance to escape his depression and fantasy, just like Hero did before. Rejecting his fantasy, Sunny can start reintegrating into the real world outside.

Blue is one of the two main colors associated with the Real World, along with Green. We see it most prominently in the cloudy sky, showing the status of Sunny in the real world on the final title screen. Unlike the oppressive purple sky of dream world, the real sky is blue, wide and filled with many possibilities. It’s reflected in the blue picnic basket at the secret lake, its blue and white like the sky. Sunny describes it as “not as good as Mari’s” but it’s a real picnic in the true world. The only world where Sunny can learn and grow.

Green: Growth/ Change/ Basil’s Envy

The color of growth. Plants are the keystone metaphor the story. In the duet sequence we see the plants growing, and the children alongside them. OMORI at its core is a coming-of-age story. One that homes in on the worst part of growing up: facing traumatic catastrophe. And being able to grow in spite of it. One of the kids hit hardest by this trauma is Basil. The gardener. A boy with a green thumb and green eyes (not literally, figuratively.) Note that Basil’s envy is never a malicious thing. But its made clear that he was always questioning his place in Sunny’s friend group. Taking photos but never feeling apart of them. Basil wants to be someone else. Someone loved. He wants to change. Lacking options, he turns to gardening, so he can make something beautiful to add to the world. Hoping that maybe he can change along the way.

As mentioned before, Green is portrayed as a happy color too. And is almost always portrayed in a positively light, being the second main color of the Real World. Though it also has a place in the dream world as well. It’s the color of the Vast Forest. The one that reminds Sunny of the tree that changed everything. It’s even the color of Space Ex-boyfriend’s hair, where its made abundantly clear that green is the inverted color of pink. If green is the color of growth and change. Pink is quite the opposite.

Pink: Innocence/ Childishness

Aubrey’s color. Her punk pink hair, originally meant to be a testament of her girly innocence, has since become a symbol of defiance. But this is only one instance where innocence is defiled by the toxicity of their shared catastrophe. Pink is the color worn by Sally the baby, the most innocent character in the story. But most pink characters appear as obstacles. Aubrey is the most obvious example, but pink is also featured on all three of the major Headspace bosses. Spaceboy’s pink hair. Sweetheart’s strict adherence to pink attire. And Humphrey’s monstrous parasite form is a sea of pink. Each character once had innocent origins but are all lashing out from an unwillingness to move on. For Aubrey, its from Mari. For Spaceboy, its Sweetheart. Sweetheart can’t move past her heartbreak to love anyone. And Humphrey fights to maintain the “blissful ignorance” of Whitespace itself, refusing to let Sunny wake up from his childish dreaming. After all, the very floor of the Neighbor Room is pink. Pink almost appears as an antagonistic unnatural color. Or rather, pink is the childishness Sunny and Aubrey need to overcome to mature and grow.

Though for Aubrey’s case, there’s a second meaning. Pink and purple are considered a feminine color, though purple is decidedly more mature of the two. Growing up, Aubrey didn’t have many feminine role models. Since Aubrey’s mother is emotionally unavailable, Mari is the only other girl Aubrey has to relate to. So they planned to style their hair to celebrate this connection. By asking Mari to dye their hair pink and purple, it appears that Aubrey is seeking to share her feminine experience with Mari.

Purple: Lavishness/ Love

Mari’s color. Purple is a color that exalts femininity and abundance. Traditionally associated with royalty and luxury, purple provokes a feeling of richness. Although in Mari’s case, this richness is not material wealth but rather takes the form of doting and indulgence. Representing how Mari goes out of her way to express her love to others in the form of gifts. This is also the main color of Headspace, since the color black is missing from that world replaced by infinite purple indulgence of an escapist fantasy.

Black: Mystery/ Repression/ Fear

Black is not evil in this game. It’s simply darkness. Hiding something important from sight. Something, the ghost, is black. All of them are. And of course there’s Black Space itself. All of it hidden, all of it pushed down. Black is also the exclusive color of fear, and is tied explicitly to the Truth. In earlier versions of the game, Fear was going to be just another emotion. In fact, super early concept material even indicates that somethings and black space were just going to be a haunted level. Not so in the final game. Black stands out as a special nightmare, that not only encroaches on the dream world, but even the Real World. All colors are swallowed by a darkness that torments Sunny and hides something awful.

Red: Anger/ Guilt/ Trauma

The color of blood. Of her blood. The color of guilt. Of being caught red handed. The color of unbridled fury for doing something awful to someone who loved you dearly. Across the game, we see Sunny being lured into the red lights. Red is the destructive impulse to seek revenge for Mari’s sake. Take from himself what he took from her. In Red Space, Sunny fights Omori. He faces his own self-hatred and overcomes his darkest impulses.

Anyway, I think that’s all the main colors. Happy Birthday Sunny! I try to make time for lore posts like these whenever I find time.

Thanks for reading.

#omori #omori meta #kel #hero #basil #Aubrey #mari #sunny #omori analysis #color theory

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 6 months

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I've been able to put a finger on what's really been annoying me about the current discourse surrounding Izzy's death, and it's the claims that the show "suddenly" isn't happy anymore or about queer joy and how that's a betrayal.

And my thing there is...OFMD has alway been the queer joy show, yes, but it has also never shied away from dark topics, and depicts topics such as the domestic abuse Ed suffered as a child and Stede's childhood trauma and the resulting PTSD from those events very realistically. OFMD is a kind show, at its core, and it never makes jokes that punch down. At the same time, though, this season began with Ed in a self-destructive mindset and actively planning his suicide, culminating in an attempt that was very nearly successful. This is heartbreaking. We've seen Ed sobbing - both at the end of last season and the start of this one - and last season we saw Stede absolutely shaken and traumatized by watching Chauncey shoot himself, right after Stede agreed that it was best he just die. It's heavy stuff, and I'll be the first to admit that it's honestly a bit hard for me to rewatch the first three eps of s2 just because of how hard Ed's suicidal arc hits, but I don't think it detracts at all from OFMD as the queer joy show - it adds to it, because the story is about coming out of these dark places through the power of queer love and community!

In contrast, Izzy started this season in a very rough place, and grew through the power of accepting queer community. His death was narratively important to Ed's arc, and he said himself he was satisfied and wanted to go. Why is this where you draw the line?

It's okay to be sad if a character you like died. That's the point, deaths in fiction are rarely supposed to make us feel happy. But it really just sounds like a lot of people are upset the narrative isn't centering around their favorite yt side character.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #that's my piece it's the last thing i'll say about the izzy drama i promise #izzy critical #tagging that just in case

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mirapril · 5 months

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Hi, I would like some Castlevania headcanons please! About Alucard having a younger sibling but the sibling is still a child :D

OMGGG MY FIRST REQUEST!!! Ty sm for the request <3

so sorry I didn't see it until now 😭

since gender wasn't specified ill make reader gn

also this is my first time writing headcanons so I hope this is good enough😭

Feel free to give me any feedback or constructive criticism <3

Alucard x child!sibling!gn!reader Headcanons

fluffy brother/little sibling stuff

word count: 557

warnings: none, a little bit angsty at the end

When BigBrother!Alucard met you for the first time he swore on his life that he'd always protect you no matter what. no man nor beast will ever be able to harm you. not while he was around

While your mother was treating people of the village and your father was down in his lab researching, your big brother would play with you to keep you from causing any trouble

You’d play things like hide and seek together, which wasn’t really fair since he was as way more experienced with his powers than you are at your young age :(

"Adrian, this isn't fair! you're way older and faster than me!"

"You're the one who said you wanted to have a race y/n. You'll never get faster if you don't try you know."

When I say he’d do anything for you I mean it

He’d especially get into trouble with his father for you

On one occasion he had taken one of your fathers “pretty” science tubes but ended up knocking something important onto some also very important blueprints

Your father kept a very close eye on you both when you were around his lab after that

BigBrother!Alucard is also in charge of making sure you don’t get yourself lost in the woods around your home

You’d purposefully leave the house without telling anyone just so your older brother would have to find you

You loved when he had to chase you around big trees and across wide ponds with rocks surrounding them

Of course, he could easily catch you but usually he’d let you have your fun

He did have mini heart attacks whenever you’d run too fast around the steep and slippery rocks

His main worry was you falling and hitting your head on a rock or falling into the river

"Y/n! Watch where you're running! You don't want to run into another tree do you?"

Also BigBrother!Alucard is basically your tutor

Your parents taught you too, but you preferred your brother's teachings because he made lessons more fun for you

There was a time when your whole family went on one of your fathers' trips since he loved to travel so much

You got to see all sorts of sights together :)

For obvious reasons, your family didn't get out much, so it was a nice change of scenery for the four of you

After the death of your mother and father Alucard was the only one you had left

Alucard was worried about how your little brain was going to process such a loss, but he did his best to comfort you

It was hard for him to act like not only a brother, but a mother and father for you

You were very much brighter than most children at your age so you saw how much it was taking a toll on your brother

You tried to comfort him the best you could

"Don't worry Adrian. I don't feel so lonely because you look so much like mama! It's like I have you and her in one person :)"

He usually just laughed it off when you said strange things like that

He was also sad that you were literally growing up way faster than regular children should

He missed when you were small enough for him to cradle you in one arm

i got sad at the end cuz i was listening to music and i thought about reader and alucard growing up together :(

#x gn reader #x reader #castlevania #castlevania x reader #child reader #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #x female reader #x male reader

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moodymisty · 5 days

Note

The words “blood hungry Sanguinius” in your announcement post activated all of my neurons at once. Anyway request time, lemme lay the scene. Sanguinius is in an established relationship, she’s a diplomat or his seneschal, somebody of great importance to him both personally and professionally. The planet they’re currently Crusading™ has put up enough of a fight to be troublesome but peace talks are finally happening, which our dear angel’s beloved is the head of. Except not everybody wants peace. Sanguinius has been waging war on this planet, not everybody is gonna be a fan but people also aren’t stupid enough to just pick a direct fight with the 10ft tall dude who could chuck a spear into space. So they aim smaller, where they know it’ll still hurt. An assassination attempt is made on his beloved. It fails, mind you, but it was too close for comfort. She was hurt and suddenly the great angel isn’t feeling so angelic. He wants cathartic visceral payback and his sons couldn’t agree more. Now that kind of adrenaline-fueled murder rampage will get anybody’s blood pumping so once he gets back he’s headed straight for their room. Obviously he’s relieved that she’s fine, patched up and everything at this point but she still smells like blood and sweat and he just desperately needs to know she’s okay. Needs to hear her voice crying out for him rather than in pain, feel her pulse against his lips. Needs to lick the blood off her. It’s precious after all, he’d hate for it to go to waste (and crucially of course he has to erase the traces of that attack, only he is allowed to draw blood from his beloved, nobody else gets to do that and live)

Do with these brain worms what you will, Misty. Go nuts ❤️

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Thank you for the fucking FOOD, friend. I hope you enjoy it, I tweaked a tiny bit just to make it flow better in my head because it was going to keep getting longer if I didn’t stop send help

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, semi-graphic depictions of violence in the beginning, Blood drinking/licking/vampirey stuff, fingering, If you squinted you could consider this dubious consent because making out after a near death experience probably isn’t the best trauma response but it’s 40k so whatever, Slightly Yandere Sanguinus also to be honest

Sanguinus lets his perfect veneer fade for a moment, as he drifts off into thought. Tactical planning and logistics fade into the background, but Sanguinus can still comprehend it all and join back in a moment without anyone noticing.

She’s asleep right now, oh how I wish I could join her.

After a tense few weeks of failed diplomacy and eventual war, you needed rest; While Sanguinus needs such a thing much more rarely, he still wishes to join you. This whole debacle has been little more than aggravating to him.

While he is used to waging war like this, he knows you took this failed diplomacy as a failure for yourself. You’re still new to this, he knows it’ll fade with time but he wishes he could at least comfort you for a little while.

Though, this whole crusade has been less than what you all expected. Fierce electrical storms have made teleporting or even using Thunderhawks or smaller landers from the Red Tear to planet-side dangerous, so they’ve set up temporary base on solid ground while the war effort continues.

He hates the feeling of it; The nature of it being less secure. He knows you’re surrounded by Astartes, but these walls are old and they don’t know the landscape, or if this old fortress has anywhere to hide. This isn't their home territory, the safety of the cold, metal walls of the Red Tear and it's sister ship-

The door suddenly barges open, and in rush two blood Angels who's armor screeches as they freeze to a halt. It manages to startle Sanguinius somewhat, as his wings shift close to his body.

“Lord Sanguinus! Someone is attacking Our Lady!”

The sentence brings him to high alert even before they finish speaking and he’s already pushing past them to make his way towards you. He barely even notices the title they used for you, one that has only been said a handful of times as they slowly became used to your presence beside him.

Sanguinus is out of his armor at the moment, a rare time for him to stretch his wings and back after being in it for nearly a week straight, and the lessened weight makes his strides even faster as he races to you. His wings are tight to his body to avoid hitting anything or catching drag, and he hears the sound of bolters and ceramite plates crashing into weaker armor. He had them guarding the room at all hours, and as such was able to get alerted to the assassins- he assumes by their dark regalia and deftness- instantly.

“I want at least one alive! I want to know how they got past our perimeter!”

The first intruder he catches sight of has their shoulder blown away by a bolter shell before they could comprehend Sanguinus’ orders, and the second gets grabbed by an Astartes and yells in pain at the audible crack of bone. The third Sanguinus notices behind him and he batters him with the end of his wing, and an Astartes manages to obtain him by grabbing his neck. No matter how skilled they were, they stand absolutely no match to his sons. Even their advantage of surprise offered them nothing in the end.

Sanguinius eventually snags the last one and hands the wretch to his sons, and the lot are carried away.

They might be alive now, but once Sanguinus gets what he wants from them, they’ll wish they weren’t. Especially after he looks towards you.

Your sitting on the floor leaned against the wall, arms tight to yourself. He can see your thin nightdress is stained with blood at the neckline, and your arms also have small bits of blood. Your cheek has a small gash that’s growing a bruise around it, like it’s from a punch or slap.

You have an Astartes combat knife in your hands, blood soaking the blade. He knows you put up a fight despite the odds. It was probably you that alerted his sons.

He can hear them communicating amongst themselves, making sure the room and perimeter are clear. The assassins are removed and will probably get prodded around in by a curious techpriest in the future. He knew that a forward base such as this was a dangerous idea, and this only further cements it. Despite the meteorological issues.

Though his thoughts are on less immediate things, now that he knows you’re safe. His clears his throat slightly but the motion does nothing to distract him.

Something Sanguinius had learned in his younger years was that all blood is different; In taste, smell. Some of it is superior to others in those ways.

As while the room is soaked in blood, he can only smell yours.

“All of you check everywhere for any others. Leave us alone unless I call.”

The Blood Angels present hesitate to move, and their lieutenant speaks why. His helmet rests in his hands.

“Should we not stay to keep you both-“ Sanguinus turns to him and his voice is firm and unwavering.

“Go.”

The captain almost seems surprised, before placing his helmet back on. His men dip their heads for a moment and leave, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone.

The Primarch comes closer, lowering to his knee in front of you.

“You’re not hurt?” His hands grasp your shoulders, and you shake your head.

“No. Not badly enough to complain about at least.” Sanguinus lets out an audible sigh of relief.

He moves to let you stand, offering a hand you take for a moment. You move away to look into a mirror and splash some water on your face, wiping the blood away from it. It does nothing to cut the scent overwhelming the air that only he can parse.

“I’ve sent them to figure out how those men got in, and if there’s more.” You look up at him, before bending down to pick up one of his fallen feathers. He lost a few in the battle, as he does all the time. The Red Tear also has many strewn about in the places he frequents. You hold it in your hand and brush along the quill shaft, smoothing it. It’s a habit you’ve developed.

“Shouldn’t you go with them?” Sanguinus furrows his brow, confused.

“I want to stay with you, so I know you’re safe. And that you feel safe.”

The way you look up at him is worried; What could you possibly be worried about right now besides yourself? You were the one who was almost killed, because he was ignorant enough to bring you here, selfish because of his desire to keep you at his side. He kneels close to you, and tries to hold his breath as his mouth waters.

“What is it, my love?”

You look at him and continue holding his feather, seeing the way his eyes leer at you. You’ve seen it before, and it’s obvious why.

“Sanguinus, you’re hungry.”

How well you already know him, even after such a short period of time.

He gently cups a hand to the side of your face, before leaning inward.

“I’m sorry my love, I can’t help it, you’re like my own personal wine.”

His lips brush across your own, and he can suddenly taste the tiny droplet of blood from where your lip had split. You eagerly return his kiss and the desperation has you gripping him like a lifeline, as if your mind is finally catching up with what’s happened. He eagerly holds you back, his massive hands cupping your waist and swallowing most of it.

Before you know it, he has you in his arms, and he gently drops you onto the bed. It creaks and groans under the weight of him, but you’re little more than a feather to it.

He can see the cut across your collarbone; They must’ve tried to put a knife to your throat, and cut along below it instead. Your heart beat rushes just underneath it.

“Let me help you forget all of this ever happened,”

He whispers, half lost on the smell of your blood. You still feel almost stunned, like everything is a dream, but you’d never refuse him with how safe you always feel in his arms.

Sanguinus’ hands drift up your nightdress until it’s off of you, the stained fabric getting tossed aside.

He leans down to drag his lips along the cut of your collarbone, tongue sweeping away any traces of blood. The droplets that ran down your sternum get wisked away as well, his tongue traveling between your breasts.

He would hate to see it be wasted. The ones who spilled it and attempted to do worse will spill their secrets, and suffer for what they’ve done.

He’ll keep his head turned if they end up bloodless as well. His sons can sate their appetites on them and he’ll mind little.

Meanwhile you writhe underneath him, a hand on your shoulder holding you down while the other presses down close to your hip. Your free hand grasps at him, nails digging into his skin. He hears you saying his name, whispering it like a prayer, but he can barely hear it over the sound of your heart in his ears.

He can stay under control, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t test his willpower.

He loves to call you his wine; Though in some ways it’s almost as if you’re a drug he can never allow himself to have too much of, lest he get lost in it.

His left hand drifts closer and brushes over your hip, his massive palm dwarfing your smaller body. His fingers push between your thighs with ease, and he slips his fingers into your folds and hears the way you whimper at the soft touch. It isn’t long before they press against your entrance and slowly he teases one inside, before slipping in another once he’s readied you enough for it.

He feels the heat of your body as he presses his hand against you, all the while his face never leaves your neck. It’s an awkward angle for him at his overwhelming height, but he makes it work. His teeth ever so gently scrape across the pulsing vein of your neck where old scars from him lie, and he feels the way you shiver.

His fingers curl inside of you as his lips press hard against your neck, tasting every last little bit of blood until your skin is clear apart from the thin sliver of red.

He leans away and presses his lips to yours again, catching your bottom lip between his own. The cut on your lip had just stopped bleeding but his rougher kiss aggregates it enough to make it bleed just a tiny bit more, and you moan into his mouth as he tastes it.

Your hand desperately grasps at his own pressing against your shoulder, trying to grip his fingers and keep you grounded. He loves the way you writhe underneath him, earlier events completely forgotten.

He pulls way from your lips with a soft pop and his hot breath returns to your neck.

He wants to bite it so badly. It’s tormenting him, eating at him. But then he feels when he finally reach your peak, tightening around him and crying out to him in pleasure and not pain. It’s like music to his ears, after hearing your heart race so much in fear barely hours ago. To hear you call his name not to save you but to have him make you feel like this.

He pulls his lips away from your neck as you catch your breath. Another time.

His wings droop slightly, though even folded they take up so much space, shadowing so much more than just your body. They drop even more, and it almost feels like he’s trying to surround you with them and his body.

He gently pulls his hand from your folds but you feel his finger brush against your inner thigh, and the corners of his mouth twitch as you shiver and tense.

“I will never allow your life to ever be threatened again,”

He says, a part inside of him fuming at the fact it happened to begin with. He shouldn’t have been so presumptuous, careless, though deeper down he knows he did everything he could. He’ll do more now. His sons are becoming used to you, accepting of you, they’ll do it with no complaints.

You look up at him with soft, shining skin; Lips swollen. He wishes he could stay for longer, and take advantage of his time without his armor.

“Just don’t worry yourself into dropping feathers,” You joke and smile, voice slightly hoarse. He can still hear your heartbeat racing in his ears, but it’s calming down as you lay underneath him.

Sanguinus laughs and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. He swallows down his only partly sated hunger for another time.

“I’ll try not to.”

#Sanguinus x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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lulublack90 · 2 months

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Prompt 25 - Invincible

@jegulus-microfic February 25 Word count 994

Previous part First part

Regulus was waiting outside Rosier House. He’d wait outside until he spotted Lily Evans. She was James’s friend. If he told him his theory, she’d never be questioned. This was too important for sentimentality.

Hours passed before he spotted her. He stepped out of his hiding place just as she passed him.

“Evans,” He spoke clearly. She spun around, wand raised, and fired a stunning jinx at him. If he hadn’t been such a proficient duelist, she’d have knocked him off his feet. However, he was, and she didn’t. “I only want to talk, Evan’s. No need for violence.” Lily did not lower her wand.

“What do you want, Black?” Her scowl was giving Regulus’s a run for its money.

“I just need you to answer a few questions for me.”

“And why would I ever tell you anything?” She still had her wand in her hand and twitched it up slightly.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the Order that you regularly sneak into Rosier House. A house of known death eaters. Don’t think that will look good for you, will it?” Regulus watched as her pale skin went paler.

“Please. They don’t know about Pandora, please.” She begged.

“Then answer my questions.” She nodded. “Have you told Pandora any information you shouldn’t have?”

“What? No! We don’t talk about stuff like that.”

“So you haven’t been passing information to the Death Eaters?”

“What? No. I’d never do that!” She fully raised her wand this time. “What are you getting at Black?” Regulus took no notice of her defensive stance.

“There is a spy amongst the Order, and I had to check it wasn’t you.” Well, at least that was one down.

“Why would you care about that?” She questioned.

But before he could answer her, the mirror heated in his pocket. “One moment, please. I need to take this.” He ignored Lily while he flipped it open.

“Hey Reg, I’ve got some news. Dumbledore agreed with everything. He’s asked that we arrange a meeting to figure out how to track down the H—”

“James, shut up!” He hissed, cutting James off. “I’m not in a secure location.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“How quickly can you get to Rosier House?” It would be easier to do this now if he could make it. “Bring Sirius if you can.”

“It’s safe, right?” James looked worried. He didn’t trust Evan and Barty as much as Regulus did. He sighed and handed the mirror to Lily.

“Tell him it’s safe.”

“Lily?”

“Oh, hi, James. Erm, yes, you’ll be safe here.” She quickly handed the mirror back to Regulus. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, but I want you and Pandora in Evan’s room in…” He looked at James, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, erm, give me an hour. What about Peter?”

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s one of us, isn’t he? So, should I bring him along? Dumbledore said we need as many people as possible.” Regulus wasn’t happy about this. He’d always thought Pettigrew was a weak, weaselly person.

“Does he know Sirius’s current status?” He asked, thinking this would be a good way to narrow down his answer.

“No, I haven’t seen him to tell him,” James admitted.

“Then no, James.”

“But, Reg—”

“No, James, it’s too important.” James groaned but didn’t push it.

“I’ll be there in an hour.” He said, and then he was gone.

“You have an hour, Evans,” He told Lily, “Tell the others when you go in. I need to go pick up one more person for our little group.” With that, he apparated to a secluded clearing in a forest in the midlands.

In moments, he was surrounded by grubby men and women. Regulus ignored them.

“Lupin you about?” He said calmly. Remus pushed through the other wolves to stand opposite Regulus.

“How’s it going, Black?” Remus had a few new scrapes on his face and arms, and he was covered in forest, but other than that, he looked alright.

“You coming then?” Remus nodded. He closed the gap between them.

“Remus!” A voice rang out across the clearing. Remus seemed to shrink. “You have three hours. Be back before then, or we’ll hunt you down.” Remus’s head bowed low.

“Yes, Fenrir.” His voice was quiet. Regulus grabbed his arm and apparated them away.

“Go get a shower, Lupin, you need it,” Regulus ordered when they arrived at Rosier House. Remus didn’t even fight. He went straight into Evan’s bathroom.

A blur of black curls raced across the room at Remus when he emerged from the shower. Sirius clung to him with tears streaming down his face, making Remus wobble and fall onto the floor. Neither of them seemed to care.

Regulus gave them a moment while he greeted James with a bit more decorum while they were in company.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Sirius, we need to get started. We only have two and a half hours before Remus needs to be back, or we put him in danger. The quicker we get through this, the more time you can have with him.

Sirius pulled himself together but refused to let go of Remus. Regulus made a start.

“We believe Voldemort has created Horcruxes. If this is true, he is invincible.” The silence in the room was deafening. “Unless we track down and destroy them. That is now the job of everyone in this room. I can not express how important it is that no one outside this room finds out what we are doing. You can tell no one. I don’t care who you think you can trust. If they aren’t in this room, you don’t tell them anything. We’re all that stands between Voldemort winning or losing.”

He felt the determined shift of the room, and he let himself believe they were going to win. James wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“So, where do we start?” James smiled at him, proud of how far Regulus had come.

Next part

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 9 months

Text

You're waiting for a train...(3)

Meeting Your Mark

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n knows the most dangerous move you can make is to fall in love with your mark.

word count - 1.7k

warnings - mentions of death, the sharpness of cillians cheekbones, how piercing his blue eyes are.

a/n - okay so I promise the Robert stuff is coming! The next chapter will be an important one, this was just a filler pretty much. Also I loved writing about y/n and Ariadne cause I felt they would both relish in the other when surrounded by men - specifically y/n.

a/n 2 - We finally have Tom Hardy in this chapter!!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I sat on the window ledge, clutching my coffee like a lifeline. It tethered me back to reality. I got out the picture from my jean pocket. I brushed my fingers over the fake braces and then found them stroking the faces of my siblings. Their gleeful smiles frozen in time.

The door creaked open, announcing Arthur’s entrance. I hopped to it and wiped away the tears that had escaped. All morning my mind had been plagued with visions of a man. I wasn’t even dreaming and yet he still remained. He’d nested within my brain, and he wasn’t leaving any time soon. But no matter how much I strained trying to make out the face, I was at a loss. It was almost like I couldn’t create the face because he had already been made. But I was yet to meet him. With how much closer I’d been getting to his figure with each time asleep, I felt our meet was imminent.

“You sleep, okay?”

“Like a log.” Arthur’s eyes drifted to the case I had hurriedly packed up.

“You went under?”

“No.” I lied. But he didn’t breach the topic any further as we were both stopped by Ariadne clearing her throat.

We turned around.

“Cobb said you’d be back.” Arthur remarks.

“Yeah, well, I tried to not come but- “

“There’s nothing quite like it.” I finished for her. She smiled softly at me.

“It’s just—pure creation.” She held her gaze with me. There was a brief silence between us three, waiting for someone to continue the discussion.

“Let’s look at some paradoxical architecture.” Arthur broke the silence and led us both to 3 deck chairs he’d laid out. We lay down and hooked ourselves up. Within seconds we were away.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We found ourselves in a structured glass office building. Arthur winked at me. It was the first building I’d ever created, and he’d saved it all these years. This is where I’d honed my own paradoxical skills. He led the two of us up a staircase.

“You’re gonna have to master a few tricks, if you’re gonna build three complete dream levels.”

“Excuse me,” I said as we passed a woman who had dropped her files.

“Why three?” She asked.

“Successful inception depends on planting the idea deep enough that the genesis of the idea becomes too foggy for the subject. 3 levels deep, 3 dream levels.”

“Anyways, what kind of tricks do I need?’

“In a dream you can cheat architecture into impossible shapes that lets you create closed loops.” We had been walking the staircase in a circle now, proving one of my favourite closed loops. “Like the Penrose steps.”

“Aka, the infinite staircase.” We passed the woman with the dropped files once again. “See.”

Ariadne suddenly took stock of her surroundings and saw the end of the staircase culminate in a sharp drop.

“Paradox.” We left the staircase and began to walk around the office building so Arthur could explain further. “So, a closed loop like that allows us to disguise the boundaries of the dream.”

“But how big do these levels have to be?”

“Well, it could be anything from the floor of a building to an entire city. But they have to be complicated enough so that we can hide from the projections.”

“A maze.”

“Right, a maze.”

“And the better the maze- “

“The longer we have before the projections catch us.” I smirked at how quickly Ariadne had grasped the concept. She truly put my dad to shame. And having her with us meant I no longer had to work with incompetent male architects. This girl was the real deal.

“Exactly.”

“Well, my subconscious seems polite enough.”

Arthur and I chuckled. “Just wait, they’ll turn ugly.” I answered. “No one likes to feel someone messing around in their mind.”

“Cobb can’t build anymore, can he?” Ariadne questioned. I wanted to argue but she was right. He thought about mum too much where his mind could never be clean enough to build anew.

“Well, I don’t know if he can’t, but he won’t. He thinks it’s safer if he doesn’t know the layout.”

“Why?”

“He won’t tell us.” I lowered my head, Dad might not have told me why, but he told me enough.

“But I think it’s Mal.”

“Yeah, no offence but your mum was a piece of work.” She laughed, gesturing to me. “What does his ex-wife have to do with it.”

“Mal’s not his ex.”

“They’re still together?”

“No,” I spoke up. “She died. What you see in there is just his projection of her.”

Her eyes softened when they looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“What was she like in real life?”

“She was lovely.” I smiled thinking back in my memories.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ariadne and I sat talking with our coffees and croissants. Arthur had left to get some supplies, so we decided to have a rest. We’d been drawing and planning all morning, so a break was well earned.

“You have an architecture degree?”

“No, I never got to finish it.”

“Why?”

“My dad needed me here. So, I left.”

“Oh.” She sensed the underlying sadness so left the topic. “But your drawings are amazing, why can’t you build.”

“Oh, I don’t build anymore.” I laughed brushing off her statement.

“Does it have something to do with your mom?”

“We all have our own demons, I guess. And it’s terrifying when they get opened up to the world.”

“She’s still your mom.”

“No, she died. That person in his head, that’s not her.”

“Seems you have a better grasp on that then he does.”

“I guess.” I rose, uncomfortable with the conversation, and she took my tone as her cue to end the conversation.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dad had arrived back from Mombasa. When he entered with Eames I immediately ran into his awaiting arms.

“My favourite little troublemaker! How’re you doing darling?”

“So much better now you’re here!” I cheekily winked at him.

“Oh, I can imagine working with Arthur is the most exciting thing imaginable!” Eames sarcastically said.

“Nice to see you too, Eames.” Arthur huffed as he walked away from us two.

“Don’t insult him or he’ll start going over safety procedures again!”

We both laughed and finished with another hug.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I sit with Eames and Cobb out on the roof. Saito flings a file towards the three of us and it opens out onto the table.

“Robert Fischer. Heir to the Fischer Morrow Energy Conglomerate.” Dad looks at the file and then hands it to me.

My breath catches in my throat as my eyes meet his steely blues. The rest of the world became water that flooded my ears with white noise. I couldn’t grasp onto any sound in the world apart from my beating heart. My finger raised to stroke the picture. He stood there, dressed to the nines. His hair perfectly styled, and his body adorned in riches. But his eyes, as piercing as they were, held a sadness. He was lost. I could feel it through the ink.

“What’s your problem with this Mr Fischer?” I snapped up but failed to notice that my daze had been caught.

“That’s not your concern.” Saito’s tone cut through the air. I scoffed at his brazen attitude.

“Mr Saito, this is not your typical corporate espionage. You asked me for inception, I hope you understand the gravity of that request.”

I couldn’t stand it. This may have been purely business and transactional, but something shifted. This couldn’t be purely business with our skills involved. I decided to speak up.

“The seed we plant in this man’s mind will grow into an idea. This idea will come to define him. It may come to change, well, everything about him. This man is on a course of fate and. We. Will. Alter. It.”

Saito took a moment, considering my words. He relented to my warning.

“We’re the last company standing between them, and total energy dominance and we can no longer compete. Soon they’ll control the energy supply of over half the world. In effect, they become a new superpower.” He pounds the table. “The world needs Robert Fischer to change his mind.”

“And that’s where we come in.” Eames perks up to give his two cents. “How is Robert Fischer’s relationship with his father?”

“Rumour is the relationship is quite complicated.” This tugged at my heart for some reason. My eyes drifted to my own father.

“Well, we can’t work based solely on rumour, can we?”

Eames turned his file around the show us a picture of an obviously esteemed individual.

“Can you get me access to this man? Browning, Fischer seniors right hand man,”

I read my own file. “And Fischer juniors godfather.” I finished.

“It should be possible, if you can get the right references.” I chuckled at how simple this request was for Eames.

“References are something of a speciality for me, Mr Saito.” Eames cheekily stated.

“Then it is done.” All three of us got up.

But I felt changed and Eames noticed my subtle slump.

“I saw how you reacted to the picture.”

“What? He has nice—cheekbones? And blue eyes.” I stumbled through my unsure answer.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your dad.” He laughs at my bad attempt at lying. “How do you fancy a quick internship at Fischer’s house.” He raised his eyebrows, inviting me into another mischievous mission. I smirked and happily agreed to his scheme.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

On the other side of the roof, Saito, who had been looking at y/n intently throughout the meeting, stopped Cobb before he left.

“Your daughter. She is committed to this mission?”

“I don’t doubt my teammates.”

“What about your family?” He probed. Cobb became silent. “I saw her demeanour when she saw that picture. I’d hate to see your one chance disappear because of your daughters schoolgirl crush. Perhaps she is not as reliable as you think?”

Cobb halted his movements and considered Saito’s words as the man left the roof. He looked towards y/n who still had the file open in her hands. In that moment, he saw his daughter for who she truly was, a child without a childhood.

Would she be that impulsive?

Would she be that stupid?

Would she risk it all for him?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Yes. Yes I would risk it all for Cillian Murphy too.

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994

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lilys0evil0twin · 1 year

Text

.... Y/n is quite pleased with this new boyfriend of hers. He's overall sweet and kind unlike the other jerks she dated~ Now she wanted to know how he is in bed So invited him over to her house,saying she has a fun game and wanted him to play with her~ Heracles being the sweet innocent himbo he is,agreed. He probably didn't expected to be pushed onto the bed by his gf, who is wearing a sexy lingerie that made him overheat minutes ago. Y/n sitting on him just simply smirked and say:"Oh darling I'll make sure to love you fully tonight, let me give you a taste of pleasure~"

-Anon

Who's ready to destroy the innocence of this gentle mountain of a football player?! Enjoy!

Uhh please don't get confused at my constant switching of his name... I don't know myself

Warnings: smut, nothing much just Hercule losing his v-card.... Hard

Word count: 4198

School, the hell on Earth. The stress of constant exams, the lack of sleep and as Y/n says; being surrounded by morons. Every teacher thought their subject is the most important in students' life, girls fought for every cute guy, spreading lies and secrets around the school and all the guys wanted in return of playing hard to get, was to fuck and move on.

Y/n was tired of it. This highschool stereotype. This teen stereotype. So, out of boredom, she decided to claim males reputation. She became a fuck boy. Well not eternally, but you know what, why not give those bastards a taste of their own medicine. Through out the years her reputation grew, she played the popular boys, the cute chicks. Everyone were gossiping about her but she knew it all about the others. The high-class girls started to fear her, for obvious reasons. You know the song "Take your man" by Mahogany Lox?

"I can take your mans, if I want to

But lucky for you, I don't want to"

And to the male party? The ones brave enough approach her, the ones with death wish will try and flirt, the others just admired from afar....

.....

"...Heracles.."

"Heracles...?"

"HERACLES!"

The sudden loud call of his name strattled the mountain of a teen. Currently in the middle of lunch break, Heracles was sitting at his usual table with his close friends; Castor, Jack and two years younger Göll, who was more like his little sister really. Now with his attention finally focused, Heracles turned towards his friend. "What are you doing, your food's getting cold" the teen with a bob cut asked picking on his rice. With a small, confused 'hm?' Heracles looked down towards his plate "Wha- Oh, ya! Sorry I kinda got lost in thoughts" the ginger smiled, putting a mouthful of already cold marinated chicken with vegetables in his mouth. A small laugh could be heard over the voices in the cafeteria, opposite from the ginger football player.

"Come on Hercules, go talk to her~" their senior Jack laughed, seeing his friend's face go totally red. "T-Talk to who?!" whispering a chocked yell, the football player's tough facade flew out of the window. Jack only raised an eyebrow "You know who, Y/n L/n of course! The Miss unapproachable? The, sorry for the expression, Fuck girl of the school?" Heracles only mumbled something shyly, staring holes into his food. Göll giggled beside him, leaning to catch his eyes. "Don't be scared she'll definitely like you!" she said with so much enthusiasm, it was a wander how it fit into her small form.

"I'm not scared! Why would I be? Wha? Wh-what are you even implying??!"

"Oh please, you're kind, funny and handsome! A total gentleman!" Göll clapped her hands, frowning her eyebrows in determination. Hercules only blushed, buds of sweat forming on his forehead and turned towards Y/n's table over his shoulder. "Oh look now's your chance! She's talking with my sis!!" Göll pointed towards her, jumping in excitement. But Hercules hasn't moved, quickly turning to his plate head falling between his stuff shouldes. Castor leaned closer to Hercules smiling gently. "Look you should talk to her, that way it won't weight you anymore" Jack leaned back sipping his tea as Hercules took a breath.

"Aaaand you can't be a virgin forever~"

"JACK!"

Hercules could hear his friends bicker and laugh as he neared hit target. Just as he was in sight field Brunhilde smile at him in greeting. "Oh, hey Heracles" Brun's voice made Y/n turn and see who was the unlucky soul that decided to interfere in their conversation. Her e/c eyes met with sharp baby blue ones of a surprisingly tall guy. Unimpressed she raised a brow waiting for him to voice his request. The boy cleared his throat, lightly preparing himself. "I apologize for disturbance ladies, but uh," he took a pause, eyes flicking between the two girls "m-may I talk to Brunhilde for a minute please?"

Brun slowly turner her eyes away, looking towards the table Hercules left moments ago, only to meet with the excited shines of her younger sister. The girl was squeezing her tumbs so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her overjoyed form was moving around in her seat, quite opposite to the boys sitting at the same table. Both looking they're way in interested, Jack's heterochromatic eyes slightly squinting in mischief, small smirk hiding under his slowly growing mustache. Obviously getting the hint Brun smiled turning her attention back to Hercules' nervous form. Resting her cheek against her hand, she asked "Oh is it about your game today?" the glit in her eyes showed Hercules she wants him to follow her lead, so despite knowing what she's implying, he obeyed.

"Ah, um yeh.. yes" he nodded nonchalantly. Brunhilde smiled sweetly "Yes, I'll come watch" she turned to her companion "Wanna come with me?" Y/n only hummed, playing with her food. "Ya, why not. I have nothing better to do anyway" she sighed and returned to her food, not really glancing at Hercules. His eyes twinkled as his lips twitched upwards slightly. After a short moment of silence, it started to feel a little awkward.

"So um, I'll see you both there then" he smiled sheepishly turning away to leave before the lunch break finished. But before he left he heard Brun "We'll cheer for you!" Heracles only chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed.

.....

Y/n kinda wanted to check out the football game today so she'd visit anyway. But why not play hard to get? Now she was sitting beside Brunhilde on stands, watching the game unfold. It was interesting. Well not the game itself, but rather the players. I mean who wouldn't like tall, sweaty men ramming and wrestling with each other while the prettiest girls in the shortest skirts cheering them on.

Y/n was intrigued, here and there she caught the Hercules boy looking their way. Of course she couldn't tell whether he was looking at Brun or her. Brun was the friend of his after all.

Brunhilde on the other hand didn't miss those small smirks of his everytime Y/n cursed their team for losing the ball. Brun was determined, she knew this plan would work. Despite not taking part in this whole Heracless-crush-thing, those quiet desperate signals from Göll were enough to decide she'll take the matter in her own hands.

As the game ended Brun excused herself and quickly left, leaving Y/n at the stands near the entrance to the changing rooms. With a little compliance, Y/n agreed to wait for her friend.

Leaning on the wall she boredly swiped through her phone. With an irritated groan she checked the time. 'God where the hell is she?' pushing herself off the wall, about to leave not wanting to waste anymore time. Well she tried to leave, if it wasn't for the soft wall that someone placed right before her. Grunting courses under her breath, Y/n looked up meeting baby blue irises.

"Oh excuse me miss, are you alright?" Heracles stood before her, sweaty and breathing slightly unevenly. Y/n took a step back and . She must've admit, he looked quite tasty in that football uniform of his. It clung nicely to his chest and shoulders. He was tall with wide shoulders and slim waist. Long ginger hair and some kind on make-up on his face. But as her eyes slid down his abdomen, the same markings peaked from under his shirt. They were even on the same side, but other boys from their team weren't painted like that, maybe it is a tattoo?

"Uhm, m-miss?" his voice was what chaught her attention and she quickly looked to his face. Not that she was hiding that she was literally feeding on his appearance. And that pink tint on his cheeks was kinda cute. "You're surprisingly polite for a guy your age" she grumbled, crossing her arms over het chest "I like it, give me your phone" she said extending her hand. Heracles wanted to say something when Y/n mentioned his politeness, but that was quickly shut down after she asked for his phone. Honestly, his whole brain shut down. So he just stood there, like a statue.

"Hello?" Y/n raised an eyebrow "Are you still there?" Heracles only blinked. "Y-Yah uh... I-It's in my back, i-in the locker" pointing a finger behind Y/n. She turned seeing the entrance to the showers. He even pointed to the wrong direction, damn he's so cute. "Well" she faced him again "then go get it, hop hop! I don't have all day!" She clapped her hands, making him nod and particularly ran to find his bag.

After a minute, Heracles was back. Panting and fluffed up, his clothes wrinkly and hair flying all over the place. Showing his phone into Y/n's face. Y/n only chuckled at his cuteness. He was so desperate and desperately trying to hide it. So cute. She tapped in her contacts, putting a heart behind her name. Then she did the same with his contacts in her phone. Putting him under the name 'Gladiator<3'. After she departed with a wave telling Heracles to text her when he gets home. Leaving this poor boy to freeze where he was, gripping his phone a little too hard, blushing so much that if you looked close enough, you'd see steam coming from his ears.

.....

After some shy messages here and there, those two started texting each other regularly. Becoming good friends in no time. Heracles' personality was probably the main indicator, he was sweet, kind and just so easy to talk to. Good mornings and good nights were a must. Telling each other what they were doing each day, how they were etc.

Until Hercules sent this one message that changed everything.....

Gladiator<3

Hey Herc

Whatcha doin~?

Hey

Nothing much

Just thinking

Thinking?

Abt wha?

You

Y/n really didn't know if it was intentional or if he just sent it and later the meaning hit him like a train, and to be honest Heracles didn't either.

Needless to say he was frightened shitless the next day at school. He even considered not showing up, I mean..... His stomach really felt weird, like he'll throw up if he sees y/n in the hallway.

Thankfully he was able to avoid her the majority of the day, but unfortunately for him Jack took things into his own hands.

Y/n felt bad, like really bad. This guy was the only one that she felt bad for after leaving on "seen". The feeling got even worse during the day, Heracles didn't even text her good morning for God's sake!

By the time lunch arrived, Y/n was on nettles. She hoped she'll see Heracles at their table and maybe would be able to talk it out, but once there only Jack was there to meet her. Reading news on his phone, such a weird fella.

"Hi Jack" Y/n slumped into the chair beside him with a sigh. Jack only hummed at her presence, too deep in the thing he was reading. They never talked much, but we're never in uncomfortable silence, so Y/n never pressured him.

Jack put down his phone taking a sip from his tea. "He's at the gym" Y/n looked up not really getting what he was saying. "Hercules, he's in the gym. He's probably juicing his brain for ideas." Jack specified, looking Y/n into her eyes. She only stared back, not moving a muscle.

"Well? Just go" Y/n stood up and left knocking few students out of her way, leaving only her lunch to keep the company to Jack. Who just continued to drink his tea with a smile.

.....

Pacing back and forth the whole gym Hercules already lost count of how many times he circled the room. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he text her that?? Of course she left him on "seen", what was she supposed to text to that. He wouldn't be surprised if she never texted him again, if never even wanted to see him. But.... He wanted to see her...

God he's so fucking scared. What should he do?

Pulling on his ponytail Heracles groaned, head falling backwards, his eyes closed. How could Y/n call him a gladiator when he's such a coward. Heracles had his back turned to the door when they were banged open by someone. He looked over his shoulder to see who was so impatient, only to freeze in his spot.

"Y/n?"

Stunned by her sudden appearance, Heracles never experienced first hand the "speak of the devil". The poor boy was even more surprised when Y/n walked to him and hugged him. "What the fuck are you doing, huh? Ignoring me like this?" her voice was mumbled due to her face being pressed into his chest. Heracles calmed down a little and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back. After a moment of silence Y/n spoke again, now more clearly. "I'm sorry, for not texting you back."

"I meant it"

"What?"

Hercules took a breath, straightening his back. Gathering up courage to look down at Y/n. "I like you"

"You're such a dork" Y/n laughed hitting the stressed out boy playfully.

Yep, they started dating. The play girl Y/n L/n was now in a relationship.

Those two love birds started spending more and more time together, even going as far as to have sleepovers. Y/n didn't believe Hercules was real at some moments tho, he was like from a romantic novel. Taking her on dates, bringing her flowers, listening to her ranting, even gossiping with her.

It was like a dream, Y/n may have really fallen in love. Only one last thing to do to make sure she's really about to invest into this relationship to work. She wanted him to fuck her. I mean... Can you blame her? Every time she saw him laying on the couch in his worn out tank top and sweatpants.

As time went on, Y/n was only hornier and hornier. Plus it was frustrating that even tho she did catch Hercules staring, he never crossed any lines. He only followed her lead. So why not use it to her advantage?

One evening Y/n called upon the girls meeting. She with Brunhilde and her sisters sat in a circle in her room. The problem at hand? How to seduce Y/n's boyfriend Hercules. The girls exchanged ideas:

Hrist was for Y/n to greet him wrapped up like a present, holding a paper with "For Hercules" on it. And if it didn't work then to just grab him and fuck him senseless.

Thrud was for a simple "Netflix and chill", maybe make some snacks to enjoy and just be a lil touchy and he'll surely follow.

Randgriz was too shy to say anything and the other girls just listened excitedly. Except for Alvitr that was sulking, because no one acknowledged her idea with sexy lingerie. Göll with Hlökk nearly passed out three times if it wasn't for Göndul.

And so the plan was made, with the finalizing help of Brun of course. Now it only needs to be put into action.

.....

The plan was simple, text Hercules asking him to stay at Y/n's house. This weekend was perfect because her parents went on some trip and won't be back till the next weekend.

Hercules agreed to stay of course and Y/n got to work. The first day was their usual. They lazied around the whole day and went to town in the evening. The next day however, Y/n sent Hercules shopping while she got ready.

Putting on her favorite red lingerie, ready to confront her boyfriend whenever he comes back.

.....

"H-hey" Y/n pushed Hercules on the bed. He was quick to sit up when she lowered herself before his legs, comfortably kneeling down. "W-what are y-..?" "Don't worry love, just relax and enjoy~" Y/n says seductively pulling his knees apart. With a lovestruck sigh, resting her cheek on his thigh. Her steady breaths brushed past the space of his pants, getting tighter and tighter with each exhale. Slowly unzipping his pants while maintaining eye contact with the blushing boy. First to look away was Hercules, his blush getting darker and spreading all the way from his ears to his chest. Heart drumming in his ears, banging against his ribs so hard he'd think they'll break. He didn't know where to look, it was getting so hot, where should he put his hands, what should he do?! Just as Hercules started to panic a gasp filled the room, his body shaking, mind going blank.

'Y/n! She-She's !! -' taking in a shaky breath

'She's!!'

Y/n only chuckled seeing his flustered state. She licked the under side of his manhood, following the giant vein from it's base to the head. Giving it a kiss with little kitten licks along his slit. Inching her hand towards his base, fingers slowly rubbing in circular motion. The precum rolled from his tip only to be gently licked off, twitching every time she did so. "Y-Y/n.." her e/c eyes peaked from below her long lashes with a seductive look, fire dancing behind her pupils. He couldn't look her in the eye, it was too much. Cowering his blushing face with the back of his hand, he looked away, eyebrows frowned.

"S-Stop.."

"Oh sorry for teasing you love, but you're just so cute~"

Being called cute now? Hercules pressed his lips together, only to open them in a moment letting out a relieved sigh. The warmth and wetness of Y/n's mouth enwrapped his cock. Sighing and moaning softly, Hercules closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of Y/n's throat. Hercules expected a gag from how hard the impact felt, but nothing. Only the small exhale as her nose buried in the short ginger hair, filling her lungs with his musk. This went on for some time, Hercules's moans and grunts sounded over the muffled sounds from the street.

"Y-Y/n"

"Let it out" Y/n said as her deep throat session ended, going back to licks and kisses. Stroking his length at fast pease, her mouth opened over his swollen red tip. The atlete let out a sudden loud groan reaching his big hand for her petite shoulders. "W-wait! Y/n!" She only chuckled moving her hand faster, forcing him over the edge. His hot cum shoot into her opened waiting mouth. Pulling away and sitting on his lap, Y/n swallowed the sticky, slightly salty substance, her e/c gaze meeting his blue one.

"Why did you? ... Doesn't it taste bad?" if his blush could get any darker, it did. Heracles' squinting, teary eyes barely saw his girlfriend. Y/n shaked her head, her h/c locks swinging from side to side "No, you're sweet" she reached for her face, swiping some escapee cum from the corner of her plump lips "Like a candy cane! Here!" and stuffed her seed covered finger into his mouth. His baby blue eyes widened as his shoulders shifted in surprise. Just as he wanted to protest, Y/n pulled her hand away, replacing her finger with her lips. In hopes to calm him down a little, she deepened the kiss, rubbing her tongue against his. Thankfully it did help, seeing as Hercules relaxed his shoulders, his hands unconsciously moving to rest on her hips.

Parting from the kiss to get some air, a small string of saliva hinting on the so recent kiss. Hercules, now completely relaxed, sighed resting his forehead against hers. "That ... That was weird" y/n chuckled again kneading his biceps gently. "Hmm, you'll probably like my juice more.... But I'm a little pent up so maybe later" she said as she moved from his lap. Y/n pulled up the skirt of her lingerie and pulled down her lace panties. Hercules turned his gaze to the side, being the gentleman he is. ...And not really mentally ready for what's to come.

Y/n grabbed his surprisingly still hard dick and aligned the tip with her soaking entrance as she straddled him again. "Sh-Shouldn't we use the protection?" Y/n's eyebrows flew up, her eyes meeting his in surprised gaze. Then smiling brightly hugging his neck and kissed his cheeks and lips repeatedly "That's why I love you! You're not like all the others!" Y/n hopped down and grabbed one, out of many, condoms from the drawer near the bed. Ripping the cover and slowly wrapping the condom on Hercules's manhood. Once finished she hopped on his lap once again and slowly sheathing him inside. Hercules let out a surprised hiss, eyebrows knitting together his blue eyes now tightly shut. Y/n moved her hips from side to side slightly to adjust to his length faster.

"AH, w-wai-- !!" Hercules grabbed her by her hips, stopping her movement. "Y-You're too tight!" He sighed out, resting his forehead on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, his thighs shaking. Y/n waited for her lover to calm down again, gently rubbing his wide shoulders till she felt him move his hips upwards slightly. She pulled his face from her neck, moving his head till their eyes met. With that her lower body moved, slowly at first spreading her love juice around the thin wrap hugging Hercules's length. Hercules's hands holding Y/n's hips slid down to her ass, lifting her body effortlessly, opposite way to his thrusts. Gaining speed with every thrust, the room was filled with their mixed breathless moans and groans.

A small drop of sweat slid down his neck all the way to the pecks on his stomach. Y/n followed the drop with her eyes, feeding on the movement of his muscles with every labored breath. She was fascinated in Hercules' improvisation skills, maybe he was really just shy. Y/n moved her hands from his shoulders. One entangling with his low ponytail, slowly pulling on the band to free his ginger hair, and eventually resting her palm on the back of his neck. The other slid down his heaving chest, shifting the direction as soon as she reatched his bellybutton. Her hand gently held his on one of her butt cheeks.

"A-Are you ok?" Heracles asked breathlessly. It was hard to concentrate on more stimulants at once but her holding his hand may have meant he was doing something wrong. He needed to check. Y/n only chuckled giving him a kiss on his neck. "No, just hold on now baby" it took a second for Heracles to hear the meaning of her words. But by the time he could ask what she meant his hands released her bottom and his back hit the mattress. Her small delicate palms holding his down beside his head. With wide eyes he looked up, meeting her e/c irises. The smirk on her face was devilish. Her eyes nearly glowing in the dark.

"Hold on ok, big boy" with that she bounced on his lap with such speed and force Hercules though he'd pass out. Despite being much stronger, Hercules felt weak, literally under the command of his girlfriend. The coil in his stomach snapped before he could even register it's approach. With a quick movement of his hands he grabbed Y/n's arms and turned them both around. Now with him on top, Heracles stopped, emptying himself in the condom, hiding his head in her neck. He gasped for oxygen, tired and drained but still held himself up, not to crush Y/n with his weight. "Y-You did not.... D-did you?" he asked quietly, Y/n chuckled patting his back. "It's okey, it's your first time after all" she said with a gentle smile, Hercules moved from her neck looking at her face then down between her legs, where his cock still rested in her warmth. Blush returning to his ears he slowly pulled out, making sure to catch everything before spilling. He pondered for a second deciding what to do with it till Y/n smiled again and gently took the full condom from his hands and tied it shut, throwing it out into the bin next to get bed. Heracles' blush was constantly present as he turned Y/n to face him. He kissed her gently and lovingly. With their lips still touching he said "But I want you to feel good too"

His fingers moved between her legs. Y/n laughed and kissed just below his lips, "I love you so much" Hercules smiled "And I you" they both chuckled as Y/n palmed his hand against her womanhood, guiding his fingers.

"My lovely gladiator"

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok smut #snv x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #x reader smut #ror heracles #snv heracles

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sanctus-ingenium · 11 months

Note

Do the saints in the mez setting have ye olde fanclubs. Are there folk saints of mechs. Do people sell those like sainted tokens of like scraps of paint from the mechs or something

Not so much fanclubs in a fandom sense, that's a bit of a modern invention. They would have taken their worship very seriously and one of the most common pilgrimages of the time is a tour of all the stables, where you can get iron pilgrim badges made out of old armour plates. I have drawn Mercury and Mars wearing them before ⤵️

The badges are worn as a sign of devotion but also to prove that you've visited those stables, because as the stables increase in importance, they don't just let anyone wander in to see the relics and beasts. You have to prove that you've been to other stables before, the more the better, otherwise you may not be worthy of checking out the good stuff. It is expected that every member of the laity go on a pilgrimage at least once in their lives.

Craftspeople do capitalise on this by selling small devotional items that you can take home and set up in your own shrine. I've drawn one of these, a mass produced woodcut print of Leun, but these are super common and usually not of high quality, fudging details so that they might resemble any given beast if you just squint a little. This one is on the upper end, quality wise

But the most central part of how one is expected to 'commune' with a holy beast is in their breath. huffing fumes is right there in the scripture - I mean, they are practicing engine worship, so of course they're placing huge significance on the smoky part. Grifters often sell what are essentially empty bottles, claiming that they have captured some smoke or some of the beast's breath, making it, essentially, holy air. Fun fact, when an important member of the Church is dying, he has the option to request a death by engine fumes instead of a natural death, and in a severely hypoxic state they share their final wisdom with the congregation, often in the form of a prophesy.

So, onto folk saints! They do exist - assuming you mean large mechanical creatures which have not been built by the Church. in which case yep those exist, the theocracy has sole control of the fuel supply within its own borders but there are plenty of other parts of the world. But there are also beasts that straight up don't exist but are worshipped by the laity within the theocracy. Rumours of odd sightings spread into stories of some new beast who can help you fix your gout if you pray to him. The Church considers it heresy but just like in the real world, that doesn't really stop people. Except in the case of the annexed Midean region, where people practicing "idol worship" are executed.

Oh they were having one hell of a golden age before those damn Mideans decided they wanted independence about 300 years ago, and before the dragons stopped appearing with such frequency.

The slow fall of the theocracy began with the Midean civil war/war of independence, which was a narrow win for Mez but has been a burden on them ever since. The Mezian theocracy grew by annexing surrounding nations and cementing its chokehold on fuel supply, and its colonisation of Midea was what brought it to power in the first place, long before that, especially given that Midea was the world capital of of enginesmithing at the time and an exporter of fantastic technology. So that was all great, for the Church, until the war of independence which lasted almost a century. Midea lost and did not become an independent state, but it marked a significant shift in how the population believed & behaved. That's partially why Saint Lycaon was taken from Midea, he is essentially a hostage under threat of destruction if his people don't fall in line. The constant struggle to police those areas taxes the Church of its resources and civil unrest doesn't seem to be dying down any time soon.

Before the war, the theocracy's power was absolute within its own borders. After, it has retreated to its strongholds of Salvius and Forza (where the biggest stables are) and all but abandoned the more remote regions to fall to ruin. Not so much a spoiler, but a major plot point of the story, set at the end of this age, is that the final death-prophesy of a cardinal was: unless taxes were paid by the laity [dying of plague], the Church is under no obligation to send the beasts to aid them in times of peril. During the 'golden age', this would have been an unthinkable act of miserliness, and the Church would have sent those beasts out whenever and wherever, often to random villages not being attacked, just to give people a chance to see them. The massive waste of fuel was not a big deal because there was always sooo much more waiting, and the sky was full of dragons. Now, every drop must be preserved.

#setting: mez #thanks for the fun asks!

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thepythakorean · 3 months

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parallels between the boy and the heron and this painting, plus general analysis

Arnold Bocklin, Island of the Dead. 1880

i want to preface this by saying i am by no means an art history nerd, i just happen to know some stuff about the background of this painting in particular.

as soon as mahito is sucked into the tower floor he is standing at the shore of an island surrounded by an endless ocean. he is dwarfed by a large set of golden gates that say something like "those who seek my knowledge shall perish" and an even taller forest of cypress trees. these features all frame a white dolmen (primitive tomb usually made of giant rocks stacked like below) that beckons to him.

this scene immediately struck me since it has so many of the visual elements of the painting. mahito is even framed in the foreground to be so very small approaching these giant, daunting structures just like the boat heading for the island in the painting. besides the tombs, the cypress trees are also traditionally associated with mourning and death at least in europe/the mediterranean. other ghibli movies have lavish european aesthetics tied to characters (howl, yubaba, etc.) but it feels particularly intimate here given that mahito's great granduncle, the creator and ruler of this world, is apparently european and can only pass on his role to a direct descendant. (btw not saying the gaudy european decor signature of howl and yubaba aren't important to their characterization, it def is! i'm just saying it stood out to me in this movie especially.) the cliffs full of stone entrance passageways are prominent later in the movie as himi takes mahito through the parakeet's domain, and interestingly, in the delivery room where natsuko is, there is another dolmen behind her (can't find pics since the movie hasn't been uploaded yet urgh).

the backstory to the painting continues to parallel to the events of the story! so there's 5 versions of this painting. the first three versions were painted in a cemetery close to bocklin's residence which was also full of white headstones and sculptures, and cypress trees. one of his infant children, one of many children he lost, was buried there. the one i posted above is the first/second-- while bocklin was working on the first, a the soon-to-be wife of a politician visited his studio, saw the wip, and commissioned her own version with the added white figure and coffin to commemorate her first husband who had just died of diphtheria. already somewhat similar to how mahito's mother died in the hospital fire (well. she died from the fire but presumably she was there because she was sick) and when his father shortly remarried. these were also added to the initial wip and stuck in later versions of the painting. bocklin later wrote to her, "you will be able to dream yourself into the world of dark shadows". the movie is also very dreamlike-- it's a fantasy world filled with strange creatures, alternate versions of people he knows, and passages that seem to alter the fabric of time and space. people also seem to forget about it as soon as they leave even after spending long periods of time in it like a dream. the painting is also very dreamlike, but why? the warm lighting, maybe not in the version i posted but in a couple others, may explain it, but the island itself resembles the curtains and stage of a theater (referencing the audio clip below the description). even if it doesn't look EXACTLY like that to you, it's definitely a too-perfect little scene in a nebulous expanse of space. this theatrical quality is also shown in the movie by the parakeet uprising side plot as well as the scene when himi and mahito collapse in front of the delivery room-- the curtain falls directly in front of the viewer over them as though a stageplay just ended. oh and a friend mentioned to me how this is a classic hero's journey plot and mirrors orpheus in the underworld. island of the dead has also directly inspired NUMEROUS other works of art, including other paintings, stage productions, and symphonic poems. apparently the painting was so popular many people in berlin hung prints of it in their homes (i do too)! as i stated above though, a lot of the visual elements in the painting were already traditional symbols relating to death so i don't want to 100% conclude that miyazaki was directly inspired by this painting, he may have just also resonated with those symbols independent of bocklin which i still think is awesome.

the first time we see himi also reminded me of the painting. she's wearing a white dress and standing at the bow of a small wooden boat, and though her intentions are to save the warawara from the pelicans, she inevitably kills some of them too. visually and thematically she's like the white figure at the front of the rowboat in the painting. she acts as a guide for mahito (analogous to the rower? he traveled to this world of his own volition but needed a guide) for a good part of the movie and is a collage of life and death. she is a younger but kind of omniscient version of his dead mother; she's known all along she is mahito's mother but is about to be born into the world by the end of the movie and accepts her fate happily. she can control fire which envelops her like how she died in the real world, but is harmless to the touch unless she directs it as a weapon, and as we see with the warawara and pelicans it helps creation but also destroys much like fire's role in the natural world. natsuko, though a separate person from himi, is still connected as a sibling, and we see her wandering into the forest at the beginning of the movie while wearing white like himi, back turned to mahito, and that is what prompts him to first enter the tower. the strange nature of her character that doesn't adhere to a proper time or space parallels the way the white figure completely stands out in the painting, at least the ones with darker lighting. another crazy parallel surrounding fire and wwii between the painting and the movie is that the fourth version of this painting was destroyed during wwii due to bombing, again like how mahito's mother's hospital was presumably set on fire by bombing during the war.

the looming effects of war alluded to throughout the movie eventually tie into its resolution, when mahito accepts his new family that he initially rejected, his own imperfect being, and the fact that one must seek out love to be happy in this bitch of a world. his great granduncle is confused as to why mahito wouldn't want to recreate his own world like him. why would you want to return to the world that killed your mother and rejects you as a person? the world that forces your people to die in war and will eventually drop the deadliest weapon mankind has ever seen even a century from now onto your home? you can make everything perfect here! he's created something of a "paradise" himself, full of lush tropical plants, parakeets, and strange insects (some of them looked like the bugs from nausicaa, another fantastical world of lush nature which is also threatened by war. interesting), almost like a garden of eden, and it so happens to be at the very top of the tower. funnily enough, bocklin also painted this several years later:

Arnold Bocklin, Island of Life. 1888

i don't know much about this one so idk if it's an explicit companion piece to the island of the dead but it certainly looks like it. the similarities are now less apparent to the movie if there are any, it's much less lush but there are exotic plants and uh birds and stuff. this is definitely more likely a case of shared inspiration from the symbols themselves rather than movie directly looking at the painting. anyway clearly the promise of a perfect paradise isn't real, as this is interrupted by a war of his own unwitting creation, the uprising of the parakeets he wanted to breed in a paradise that literally bring about the end of the world. no world will ever be perfect when left long enough to its own devices. life finds a way! plus, this world was created through so much death (the construction workers in hazardous conditions, the way the tower keeps spiriting people away. btw in the english sub mahito's dad calls the whole ordeal a "disappearance" but he says "kamikakushi" in japanese which means "hidden by god" in reference to people who mysteriously disappeared as if from supernatural circumstances and yes that's the word they used in the japanese title of spirited away!!!) and is on the verge of collapsing from reality every three days just because of some building blocks?? the real world may be on fire but it'll go out/burn less badly someday, and at least it won't completely disappear in a snap, not in an easily imagined timescale for a human anyway. it's up to you to make the best of it, and this is what mahito decides. there are also visual allusions to other ghibli movies about the constantly present threat or consequences of war. the only other landmark aside from the island mahito lands on is a line of ships which kiriko later tells him are all fake. it immediately reminded me of the stream of planes in porco rosso which were the souls of dead fighter pilots moving on. the shadow people in the swamp were also reminiscent of those in the train in spirited away, which are never explained to my knowledge but the given that spirited away's characters are largely spirits and the way souls are so similarly designed in this movie makes me feel that they were also souls of people in spirited away.

through this imagined otherworld, there is also the blurring of lines between life and death, reality and imagination. himi plus her dyad with natsuko (they're sisters AND they look exactly the same AND both are mother figures to mahito) are great examples of this. mahito's mother is gone, he knew this and set foot into the world anyway. he rejected natsuko as his new mother but in going through the struggles of the tower he comes to accept familial love for her and even keeps confusing "natsuko" and "mom" while reaching out to her in the delivery room. a family is made up of different people but inevitably you will see each other in each person. in the delivery room scene we see the paper hanging from the ceiling lash out to attack and stick to mahito like tape, it even leaves red marks on him. this is one of the best scenes in the movie to me because of its visual contrast to him rushing to save his mother in the fire. in the fire scene, the real world around him is blurred and distorted and at times so is mahito and especially his mother. the fire doesn't seem to burn him or his clothes (i could be remembering that wrong tho) and the scene cuts off before it shows him possibly going in further. in the delivery room, everything is drawn with clean lineart, no stylization. there is no mistaking the reality of this situation even though this world is conjured, the dawning realization upon mahito that this person is his mother is so visceral that he actively fights through the paper literally snapping its jaws and natsuko spitting her hatred towards him. when mahito is ready to leave the tower, himi leaves through a separate door to be born as his mother sometime in the past though she is not a warawara and knows what has happened/will happen, an exception that further demonstrates the nonlinear nature of time and space in the movie.

after coming out of the tower, the heron tells mahito he should forget everything that happened in there. even his grandmother seemed to have forgotten the whole year she spent in there (it seems like tower time reflects irl time judging by the events of the movie). anything that comes out doesn't just disappear, it transforms into a real-life counterpart as we saw with the pelicans leaving as they were (presumably minus the ability to speak) and the parakeets going from big bloodthirsty things to regular parakeets. so mahito can't just forget, especially because he comes out changed from his experiences in there, not just himself personally but also his changed relationships with natsuko and the heron, and also his little souvenirs. then the movie abruptly ends with mahito narrating that they left for tokyo again shortly after the war ended. i like to think that this was a hopeful ending where mahito maintained that character development and was able to welcome natsuko and his new sibling into his family while being able to seek more friends and family in the future. i've seen other analyses talking about how this movie was semi-autobiographical for miyazaki and i can see it, how events early in his life shaped his personality and how he had to fight to find beauty in a world that otherwise treated him poorly, so i'm glad he ended the movie on that note, although in less words. pretty similar to how spirited away ended, although there was arguably more loss involved, but still hopeful, and that's what i find so powerful about this movie. and like this movie, spirited away involves a dyad between yubaba and zeniba as a device for the hardships and beauty of life, how they're not so discreet at times. as a last kindasorta tie-in to bocklin's work, i'll point again to the island of life which was created after the island of the dead, plus a composition directly inspired by the island of the dead, a symphonic poem with the same title written by sergei rachmaninoff. the last time i listened to this was in high school and it's like. 20 minutes long so i'm too impatient to give it a relisten now but from my vague recollection plus some quick searches it's a very somber piece that escalates into emotional climaxes yet still contains warmer tones, and goes back to the same "rowing" motif at the end. it weaves together evocations of life and death in one piece, also illustrating how the two really are so closely connected.

tl;dr, this was me the entire movie because miyazaki SEEMS to be heavily inspired by this one symbolist painting i happen to like a lot:

also also here's a self portrait of bocklin:

yes, all of his paintings are that cool.

#i'm so excited about this painting!!#there's so many freaking similarities in not just the painting itself but its conception #the boy and the heron #kimitachi wa do ikiru ka #how do you live #studio ghibli #hiyao miyazaki #arnold bocklin #island of the dead #isle of the dead #tweet

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