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charleecat-bat · 10 months

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SLASHER/HORROR AU

So a handful o fyou actually were interested aside from one person by the time i’m making this so yeah uh. look away. don’t wanna be upsetting.

NOW i do want to clarify that I made this in the sense to be a black comedy sort of AU due to watching so many skits and shorts of horror characters in comedic situations, that was my main inspiration.

my buddy @barsikscorner has been helping me develop ideas for this weird lil au.

enjoy below

please keep in mind it’s def not for sensitive softhearted people. I want to entertain with my ideas as weird as they are.

Sonic- A supernatural being who has memories of being alive but doesn’t remember what happened to him or how he died. It took him a long time to understand it but having a ‘life’ of inactivity and seeing so much more bad stuff when you’re not properly alive made him want to take action and he soon learnt how to. He toys with victims and tries to scare them into righting their wrongs but if they’ve done something unforgivable or irreversible or refuse to change, he kills them in a creative fashion. kinda based off freddy kruger but less nasty and gross.

Amy- A slasher known as either the Cupid Killer or the Rose Ripper. Goes after abusive partners and sexual predators due to her idealistic image of love so seeing this sort of behaviour makes her fly into a rage. uses her iconic hammer mostly for her kills. She wears a heart themed mask.

Tails- a sort of 'cyber' ghost. he had died and his spirit became ingrained into tech and cyberspace. He can sort of 'appear' outside of tech and into the material world but not for too long. Can communicate with people, mostly his victims, through their tech. He targets criminals and terrible people of all sorts online and either forces them to repent for their crimes or just makes their life a living hell until he decides to end it, whether it be for him or making them doing to themselves.

Cream- mostly normal. Has a strange connection to monsters and creature however and hence the chaos. They protect her. Chaos have a bit of a 'yes they're cute but they can be dangerous' reputation in this AU. they definitely have taken care of people that have threatened the sweetie bbies life and safety without her knowledge.

Vanilla- A protective mother who either lost her first child or almost lost Cream herself so she started to become a serial killer who went after child murderers, abusers and predators. She keeps this side of her away from Cream and is a loving mother nonetheless. Her main weapon are garden shears that can be seprated into a pair of blades and her mask is deocrated with flowery designs.

Knuckles- an undead/ghost like slasher that has become one with the woods he’s connected to, quite literally having roots and such all over and even inside of him (being exposed in old wounds he has). He’s cursed to walk amongst the mystical land that he was murdered on and now protects it and keeps people out. He’s very easy to anger but he’ll never attack people like lost children or people who are obviously not looking to trespass and are lost. Anyone who does trespass and does anything he deems disrespectful to the land or just refuse to leave he handles violently. He tends not to leave the area and hasn't even tried to. He might be able to. Might not.

Shadow- A space-like being that can shapeshift into horrifying forms. He was taken and experimented on a spaceship but grew close to a human girl named Maria on board. They used this to have a chance to study him without the risk of him being aggressive. After she was killed during a government break-in and he was captured and taken back to Earth. He went on a vengeful rampage in the base and now just does his own thing on earth since he can't exactly leave. He was tempted to destroy everyone but now is content on just watching the stupid shenanigans and occasionally tormenting someone he doesn't like. And gossip. Inspired by Pennywise/It and Predator

Rouge- a seductive slasher that has very strange desires and doesn’t really have any motivation other than she wants to. She likes to take bones (and occasionally the blood) of her victims to make accessories and jewellery out of them. She’s not completely heartless though and has standards and there stuff she won’t do. She uses her beauty and appearance to lure victims most of the time, to appear innocent and harmless or sexy and sultry depending on what she wants. She wear’s a beautiful decadent mask, and sports specialised finger blades she created into gloves.

Silver- a mysterious spirit that’s tied to a cursed object. he has telepathic and telekinetic abilities and can burn disturbing images and distort a persons mind and body possibly, even mind control if he wants to need to decide how he functions properly more so inspired by samara/sadako and possibly think of other inspirations like bagul from sinister

Blaze- an otherworldly being that is hinted to used to be a normal person in one lifetime but no longer is. She works by supernatural means and tortures her victims horrifically but doesn’t do it indiscriminately. Mostly only does it when she wants, especially to those that try to summon her and use her power for themselves. Inspired by pinhead mostly but also could take elements of candyman

Big- a wild beast man that didn't have a regular upbringing. He has a werewolf-like condition where he turns into a beast against his control, for his own safety and everyone else's safety he lives in isolation. He as a special connection to animals and even has befriended Froggy who is a monstrous being that can disguise itself as a frog, it’s been named the loveland frogman when caught in one of it’s many forms. His uncle had raised him alone and kept him in the dark about how dangerous he really could be and mostly did his best to keep him safe, so out of all of them he is one of the most innocent as the worst he does is literally against is control and he's unaware of it since the most he'll know is that he'll wake up and just look around adn see blood and gore or see it on himself. He has more animal friends than mobian friends.

Vector- a justice-seeking serial killer. He worked as a main detective with cops but grew tired of seeing not only horrible people go free and dodge the law and their punishment but even see the people that are 'supposed' to be the good guys be horrible people and letting shit slide. So he decides to take the law into his own hands and goes after anyone who he sees needing a just punishment in his city, dirty cops, abusers, predators, politicians, basically anyone who he thinks are utterly awful people that deserve to be punished. He can be quite sadistic and torturous with them and is very thorough with his research. was initially inspired by Jigsaw but he's not a hypocritical prick like Kramer.

Espio- He’s in a strange state of being an ‘undead’ being. He can’t quite tell if he’s alive but no longer mortal or if hes’ dead but still around on the mortal plane. He's kinda just... stuck in between. It’s a very strange situation. Theres evidence supporting both, he can still bleed the tiniest bit but no longer feels and still occasionally needs to eat and drink but he definitely doesn't have as much limitations he was when he was mortal/alive. Vector had found him when he broke into and ‘dealt’ with his abductor and ‘murderer’, they Vector and Espio got quite a fright when Espio was somehow still alive. Since then Vector has looked out for the lone chameleon despite being confused about his situation. He works as an assistant to Vector and they do have a very 'big brother' 'little brother' bond. He wears an Oni-themed mask. He has strange markings on his body such as his hands his back and chest, he still doesn’t know wha tthey mean but feels they have something to do with what happened to him.

Charmy- normal mostly but can see ghosts and even repel them in a way but he doesn’t realise it. winds up protecting vec and esp from a lot of unseen danger and also is unaware of this. Charmy frequently will talk to ghosts but Vector is honestly fine with this due to all the weirdness he's run into, and initially, he just thought it was Charmy having imaginary friends. He is not involved at all in Vector and Espios 'business' because they dont' think he needs to know about that.

Mighty- a murderous and protective spirit. he was murdered by 'accident' (if you call taking abuse too far an accident) by his father due to all the physical abuse but it was made to look like an accident so his father could save his reputation. His little sister was enraged by this injustice and in an attempt to find closure and just to talk to her brother again, his spirit was summoned and he became a vengeful being that wanted to protect her. She unleashed him on their father as a result. Matilda either summons his spirit or he just makes his own way to protect innocent people, mostly children but anyone they feel needs protection… or anyone they just want to suffer. When not angry Mighty is actually still the same form what he was in life, minus a bit of more of a temper.

Matilda- a creepy and slightly unhinged girl that studied the occult. She had done a ritual/seance to summon her brothers spirit again when he was murdeed and now he serves as her murderous protector. or just annoying ghost borther who watches and judges anything she does that he doens't like. Judgemental eyes from the grave from your brother is very annoying.

Ray- ghost boy that got attached to Mighty’s spirit and Matilda. they let him stay as he really doesn't do anything to harm then and is just lonely. He doesn't really do much of anything but can lure mighty to people, startle them to shit or even attack them but he leaves the more lethal stuff to Mighty. (kinda like toshio from ju-on/the grudge)

Nack- a heavily abused slightly mentally unstable hybrid that was abused by his small town heavily until he finally snapped and went on a rampage, killing some and driving the rest out. The village became run down and abandoned very quickly, becoming overun by nature again. The only thing intact is a scrappily made shack that Nack made himself in the middle of the land. He lives on the large property of land and guards it and does anything and everything to keep people out due to still being traumatised and afraid of people and thinking they're going ot hurt him and just not trusting them. He is proficient with guns and prefers his shotgun but can and will use other weapons, a hunting knife, machete or even a chainsaw. He's shown to be incredibly strong despite his small size, being able to run with a chainsaw in hand. (inspired by leatherface and mick taylor)

Bark- a cold serial known as the Billionaire Butcher that targets greedy billionaires, getting a distaste for them after growing up surrounded by like-minded people. He drains their accounts and steals money and while he does pocket a small amount for himself, he doesn’t keep all of it because he doesn't want to become what they are. Most likely just keep his own regular reputation as good hearted philanthropist by donating a lot of money to good causes. His main methods include using an ice-pick as his main weapon due to experience with the tool. He met Nack in a rather awkward way but they quickly became friends and he was the first person allowed on Nacks property.

Bean- A mentally unhinged boy that has a penchant for fire and burning things. Just a very strange kid. he escaped from a mental hospital and ran onto nacks property and he and bark just let him stay as despite his mental stability of there lack of he was mostly harmless to them. he doesn't talk a lot about his past but has shared tidbits, including stories of abuse, burning his own home down and mistreatment and abuse from the hospital. he ever has burn scars. He tends to chill out in the attic of their home and just likes to appear out of nowhere. (sort of inspired by billy from black christmas)

Infinite- A telekinetic and telepathic being who was ostracised by a large ration of people in his home town, mostly the religious types due to thinking he was a devil-child. He snapped after thinking he lost his family when his house was set on fire.As a result he went on a rampage destroyed the a huge chunk town with his powers and killing the ones who were responsible. He now lives and deals with a lot demons and strangeness... literally. He’s not aware his family actually survived they just didn’t even give him a moment to hear this and he left before he actually got told. DUMMY (Inspired by Carrie)

Gadget- a victim of a wannabe cult, they wanted to sacrifice him but it didn’t work and he became possessed by an incubus, a demon of lust. He struggles with his urges due to the demon and at first fought it and then finds an arrangement thanks to Infinte, his boyfriend. Actually kills people while doing the deed with it and if needed, feeds on their bodies, not the extent of Storm. (Inspired by Jennifers Body kinda) The demon has a slightly different voice and changes the colour of his eyes when it's speaking through Gadget and Gadget definitely has a demon form that is either physically attractive or purely terrifying depending on the taste. It’s not an entirely pleasant situation btu Gadget learns to handle it.

Jet- a insecure and pissy lil birb boy that got into a life of serial killing after his cousin got possessed and needed flesh/blood to survive. At first, it was nerve-wrecking but he quickly got a taste for it as he enjoys making people feel powerless and afraid, he toys with them before finishing the job including phone calls, threatening messages and taunting them verbally while going after them. Inspired by Ghostface. He gets mad fun of a lot by the other professionals.

Wave- a dark web guru. She has a massive powerful following on the deep dark web and does a lot of dark illegal things, such as selling body parts on the black market and even doing strange videos and documentation of experiments. She was also not involved initially but due to the situation their cousin got into she quickly did and then quickly found out about how much money they could get and also get rid of a lot of the body parts. Win-win situation in her mind. She has definitely gone a bit crazy due to all her experimenting and the shit she does for the dark web. She wears a plague doctor-inspired mask when recording and documenting stuff for the dark web.

Storm- While originally only doing little crimes like thievery for money, he also was the victim of the same wannabe cult that Gadget was and it also failed, becoming possessed by a demon of gluttony. It makes him want to devour flesh and blood and he unfortunately had no choice. When he gets to the point where the demon demands for him to consume, he cant eat anything else even if he tries. It just comes right back up and he starves. He’s still coming to terms with it and grew depressed and got a bit of a tricky relationship with food. he gets some help from gadget so shit doesn't suck for him entirely anymore. The Demon definitely is based off of Venom is some silly way. The demon is a bit of a screamer and talks loudly to Storm and since only storm can hear it 90 percent of the time he gets VERY tired of it (i initially wanted him to be food related like a killer chef but god i didn't want him to be a willing cannibal that's just another level of ICK)

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lassieposting · 3 years

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Do you have some HC for Ghastly grieving for skulduggery?

Asking for a friend

GOD @thats-so-craven and i were just talking about this actually

Okay, so. thats-so-craven has a headcanon (which I love) that up until his Surge, Ghastly had lowkey Sensitive tendencies, because he's from an old family of powerful seers. He never sees the world ending, but like. Sometimes he'll get a bad feeling, and decide to walk the long way home, and avoid a fight without quite knowing why. It gets more powerful as he gets older, and closer to his Surge. Being a natural Sensitive is inherent, so it never completely goes away. The dreams and visions become weaker, and rarer, and are virtually eradicated by the Surge, but an untrained Sensitive has no control over what they see, and no ability to stop it.

Like, Ghastly is the one who says this. He grew up with a Sensitive for a mother, he knows that not everyone crosses over cleanly if their death is traumatic. Skug died alone, he died in agony, and he died full of hatred. How could he possibly rest easy after that?

Anyway, after Skug's death, Ghastly starts Seeing him.

It's almost comforting, at first? He'll look up from his work, and for a moment he'll see Skug sitting in front of the fire, trying to warm himself. Or, as he's packing up Skug's things to send home for safekeeping, out of the corner of his eye he'll catch a glimpse of Skug sat on the bed reading a book. Skug drags his own memorial and everybody at it - "Ugh, look at Guild, the greaseball, what's he doing here? He never liked me anyway! Oh, and there's my brother, haven't spoken to him in fifteen years...that hairstyle does not suit him, has anyone told him he looks like a pillock?" - while Ghastly is caught between laughing and sobbing.

If he's a ghost, he doesn't seem particularly vengeful or corrupted.

But the thing is, Skug isn't dead.

Not properly.

Skug - the soul - is still attached to his bones, lying in a bag at the bottom of a river. He's in that awful situation coma patients can end up in - he's conscious, he knows what's happening around him, but he can't move. He hasn't figured out how to drag himself back fully into the land of the living yet. He's just tethered to a body that no longer works.

And Skug is not fully human. He has a defense mechanism that isn't human at all. A defense mechanism inherited from a father whose prime power is mind manipulation - in other words, a Sensitive-based ability.

Subconsciously, he's reaching out for help. The Sanctuary's trained Sensitives all have psychic shielding, and he's not experienced enough to get around that. But Ghastly hasn't had Sensitive feelings since his Surge, and his mind is totally open.

But the longer he spends in that river, the more frustrated he gets, the more angry he becomes that he can't make Ghastly understand what he needs or how to find him. And the more frustrated he gets, the less control he has over what Ghastly sees as his subconscious takes over. So the "haunting" goes from mostly benevolent and chatty, to staticky and frightening.

Ghastly will see him at the foot of the bed in the middle of the night, rotting and decaying from a soaked, waterlogged corpse to a skeleton. He has awful dreams about Skug drowning. When he looks in the mirror, Skug might appear behind him, soaking wet, saying help me through water gushing from his mouth, and then he'll disappear before Ghastly can ask with what. Vile - the part of Skug that isn't human - is trying to bring him help, but this is the closest he can get to explaining what's happened and where he is. He doesn't know where he is.

Of course, this doesn't make Ghastly realise he's still aware, at the bottom of the river. It just makes him cry himself to sleep. He believes Skug has become a vengeful ghost, and he's punishing Ghastly because he blames him for his death - because Ghastly sure as shit blames himself.

Eventually, he makes an appointment with a Sensitive - one he's not related to, he couldn't stand how much this would upset his mother - and has a wall built in his mind to protect him from outside interference - similar to what Cassie and Argeddion do to Val.

Abruptly, the hallucinations stop.

The delayed grief hits Ghastly all in one go at that point. While he was still able to look up and catch sight of Skug, however briefly, it didn't really feel like he was dead. Now he has to come to terms with the fact that Skug is gone - forever. He's never coming back. They'll never see each other again, and forever is a very, very long time.

This is. Equally awful for Skug. For however many years he's been in the river at this point, Ghastly has been that one little point of contact he's had. The one thing to occupy his mind, the one way he could still interact with the world. Even after losing everything, he still had that bridge between them.

But now that bridge is gone, and there's a giant wall on Ghastly's side, and he's mentally pounding on that wall begging Ghastly to come back, to listen, please, he has to understand.

And Ghastly can't hear him anymore.

So he spends the rest of the time until he figures out how to start moving his body again lying in that bag. Silent. Alone. Frozen. Small wonder necromancy felt safe and familiar, after that.

Highkey, this has longterm consequences for both of them. It's the first step of distance between them once Skug comes back. Up to that point, they were inseparable, told each other everything, were so involved in each other's lives that Ghastly was practically a third parent to Skug's son. But this is the second time in a very short period where Skug desperately needed Ghastly and Ghastly (through no fault of his own, but Skug doesn't feel that) failed him. When he returns, he's backed off considerably. The trust isn't there anymore. Ghastly will be talking quietly over the campfire, telling him that he missed him, he was lost without him...and all Skulduggery can think is You're a liar. You're a liar.

So when Ghastly comes to Skug and tells him to watch out for Abyssinia, says, "She's manipulating you, she's bad news, we can all see it," Skug looks at her, at the woman who tells him I love you, darling even though there's nothing loveable left about him anymore, who understands how angry he is and encourages him to vent it, who validates every bit of betrayal and resentment, then looks back at Ghastly...and tells him to watch his fucking mouth when he's talking to a superior officer.

And we all know where that leads.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons

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clevercxs · 3 years

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Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 4]

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Warning: nsfw ;)

Word Count: 8.8k

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Midday rode in on its valorous steed, ridding Beamfleot of the prior night’s grim misfortunes and the fading afterglow of suffrage.

The sun’s rays, in their curious nature, seemed to peek through the fort’s highest window in an attempt to wake the Saxon princess, who snored away in a blissful, much needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping beauty upstairs, tensions had risen amongst the Danes still hungover from the last night’s revelations, who were greeted with a rude awakening upon finding an empty cage in the centre of the hall. Their coveted princess had been intentionally freed and was virtually nowhere to be seen; she was not there, on display, for them to childishly taunt and harass.

Beneath messied curls of raven locks that had fallen over her pale face during the night, the princess’s eyes fluttered open, ever so slowly, and began to take in her new and unfamiliar surroundings. With a wide, breathy yawn that seemed to tug at the corners of her chapped lips, Blædswith carefully propped herself up on two feeble elbows that wobbled beneath her weight. Upon doing so she could feel the entirety of her shoulder ache, and broken ribs shift like creaky floorboards giving way.

Peering down, Blædswith was taken aback to see herself fully clothed in a woolen, sleeved nightgown that seemed to reach just above her ankles.

Her memory was a clouded haze, seeing as she couldn’t remember how she ended up where she had awoken; somewhere strange yet all familiar.

The room was dark and unnerving, though oddly enough felt cozy and inviting to the woman it confined. The walls were of beautifully aged stones, each one telling a story of famous Lords and Ladies past; of victorious songs chanted and arduous battles won. To the left of the king sized bed where she found herself, loomed a stone fireplace stretching towards a high ceiling of beams, encompassing a small kindling fire just large enough to warm the room without roasting the Saxon alive.

She could hear embers and small logs crackling, bringing a subtle grin to her lips out of its comforting familiarity. Plush fur rugs lined the wooden floor, forming a convenient trail towards the bedroom door carved in unfamiliar runes and other intriguing symbols.

Overwhelmed by the sudden change of scenery, Blædswith found herself curling into a ball beneath layers of thick fur pelts that had been draped over her sleeping form. Clutching a hand-sewn pillow tightly to her chest, she rolled over to dodge the blinding rays of light illuminating the cavernous room. Glancing up from where she lay still, she noticed the beautifully carved designs in the bed’s wooden frame, and the wrought iron candelabra hanging overhead by a single chain.

It was rather strange to finally be alone, where no prying eyes could violate her every move. For a brief moment, she almost allowed herself a feeling of freedom and joy, only to realize that the room had become her new cage. The only window was barred by thick wooden posts while the door, undoubtedly, was locked and heavily guarded on the outside.

Sigefrid wasn’t a complete fool to leave his most prized possession unattended and unprotected. Surely, he had learned his lesson, therefore no man was to be entrusted with her safety other than himself, the remaining few he trusted, or perhaps his merciful brother, Erik, whom the princess had already grown fond of.

Anxious, she began running her fingers through the pelt’s thickness, painstakingly trying to recall what happened last night…

While Sigefrid’s hand guided the princess away from the shore by the small of her back, she couldn’t help but stare at the carnage left behind in his wake. It looked as if his traitorous men had been slain by an entire army; dozens of arrows pierced their armored chest plates and their throats had been slashed by, undoubtedly, the blade upon Sigefrid's hand out of pure fury and rage. The limp body of the slave girl whom Blædswith befriended was carried off into the night, and to be forgotten, as if she had never been there.

As Sigefrid and Blædswith trudged uphill towards the fortress, she could feel him pulling her away from where a defeated Hæsten knelt in the dirt - mangled and disfigured beyond recognition. It seemed as if Sigefrid tried to avert the princess’s gaze from such a horrific and gruesome sight - one he was responsible for.

Blædswith could feel her frightened heart pounding within her chest like a battle drum, somehow in perfect unison with her heavy footfalls.

Though in brief passing, Blædswith witnessed for the first time the extent of Sigefrid’s vengeful brutality - or rather, the aftermath. It was as if Hæsten’s face had been trampled, repeatedly, by the metal-clad hooves of Sigefrid’s black steed. Hæsten’s dark, bloodshot eyes were swollen almost completely shut. His beard, once a curly nest of honey blonde, had been stained a crimson red from thick, oozing streams trailing from his broken nose. Beneath the skin of his swollen cheeks were distinct purple bruises outlining four knuckle prints. Surely, they were left over from Sigefrid ruthlessly pummeling the side of his face, where each blow became more excruciating than the last. Hæsten’s ankles and wrists were bound in coils of coarse rope not unlike a slave fresh off the merchant's ship after a long, godless voyage.

Blædswith peered down at Sigefrid’s hand that had slithered around her lower back, now resting upon her waist just below her tender ribs. To her dismay, his knuckles were split wide open and stained with another man’s blood. As their pace quickened the further they got from the shore, Blædswith couldn’t help but fear for what she had gotten herself into after seeing what Sigefrid was fully capable of.

Initially, she found herself drawn to the danger and mystery behind Sigefrid’s piercing eyes; seduced by his undeniable courage, god-like strength, and power over those inferior to him, the Lord of Chaos. But after that night, who was to say that he wouldn’t treat her this cruelly if she were to cross him? The fearsome Dane whose armor she clung to for dear life was a damning beast of a man capable of unimaginable acts… that much was clear.

There remained a glimmer of hope within the princess that she would be the exception; the one thing he could never allow himself to do any harm to. She believed him capable of being good, towards her, and hoped it would remain true of him in the end - when it really mattered. Blædswith marveled at the thought of being with a man such as Sigefrid, intimidating and ambitious, yet capable of being gentle towards his one beloved - her.

With the mead hall approaching in the near distance, Blædswith suddenly felt lightheaded, disoriented with fatigue and fear-fuelled adrenaline. The last thing she recalled hearing was the sound of Sigefrid’s voice calling out her name as her knees buckled beneath her and the night faded to pitch blackness with the collapse of her body...

Startled out of her thoughts by an indecipherable uproar of men arguing somewhere in the near distance, Blædswith found herself sitting upright once more, defensively on high alert, after hearing wooden tables and broken chairs being upturned and thrown rather aggressively across the mead hall, below.

What is going on? Is Beamfleot under attack?

With a stiff groan, she climbed out of bed and shuffled towards the bedroom door, pressing an ear against the carved wood. The princess audibly gasped when she identified Sigefrid’s voice amongst all others, bursting at the seams and fuming like a maddened, rabid dog off its leash.

“Dear God.” Blædswith gulped as Sigefrid’s tone seemed to grow louder by the minute while Erik struggled to calm him down. It sounded as if a hundred Danes were shouting in a jumbled unison, leaving Blædswith only able to comprehend mere bits and pieces of what was said.

In a panic, the princess frantically searched through every table and desk drawer, tearing the room apart in search for any weapons or weapon-like objects to defend herself with in case Sigefrid were to come for her next. This time, it appeared, Erik hadn’t left anything behind for her. Distracted by the commotion downstairs, Blædswith did not hear the light feet approaching her room, and hadn’t the slightest clue that someone was headed her way until the bedroom door quickly unlocked and swung open. Out from behind the door entered a quaint slave girl trembling in her work shoes, balancing a tray of food in one hand with an assortment of combs and brushes shoved down in her pockets.

“L-Lady.” She greeted timidly, “I-I am sorry to disturb you. Lord Sigefrid sent me-” The young girl nudged the door closed with the pad of her foot, cautiously walking through the room to place the food down on the nearest bedside table.

Startled, Blædswith practically jumped out of her nightgown at the sudden intrusion, withholding crude language after she realized how nervous the poor girl already was - out of fear. Her complexion was as pale as a ghost as a result of what was occurring downstairs, and likely whatever Sigefrid had threatened her with.

“What is Sigefrid doing? Downstairs?” Blædswith questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a seat at the foot end of the bed. “Of course, I... have my suspicions.” Her words faded into silence after noticing a rather sharp steak knife conveniently placed beside her meal.

“L-Lord Sigefrid is…” The slave gulped dryly and began fidgeting with the bristles of a large brush in her pocket, “he is asserting himself, a-after what happened last night. To you. He is upset… he feels he can no longer trust anyone, n-nor protect you.”

Blædswith exhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. Worried by Sigefrid’s sense of doubt, she questioned, “But he trusts you, does he not? After all, you are here. If you intended to kill me you might actually have a chance.” She motioned down to her shoulder before stiffly rotating it in circular motion.

“H-he does, yes, lady.” She nodded solemnly. “I have no intention to harm you. I have been nothing but loyal to Lord Sigefrid-”

Blædswith, immediately, picked up the steak knife from the tray, reached across her bed, and tucked it beneath her pillow. “I need you to be loyal - to me. You will not tell Sigefrid, nor Erik, that I have a knife. Hæsten still wishes me dead, and this is the only way of protecting myself. Do you understand?” Blædswith leaned in, closing the distance between their faces, thus causing the young slave girl to tremble in fear. She then added, darkly, “If you tell anyone, I shall kill you with it.”

Frantically nodding, on the brink of tears, the slave whimpered,

“Y-yes, lady. I-I understand.”

After Blædswith had been well fed and groomed, the young girl was dismissed so the princess could be left alone to her growing sense of paranoia. Before the slave could reach the door, apprehensive to step foot outside, Blædswith couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way she treated her. “Girl.” She began, causing the young slave to stop dead in her tracks, gratefully. “What is your name?”

Slowly turning to face the princess, she replied shamefully, “I-I have no name, lady.”

Blædswith slowly rose from the bed, strolling towards the beautiful, brunette haired girl cowering before her. “I shall call you Moira. How does that sound?” Blædswith reached forward, tucking hair behind the young girl's ear as she once had, to the first slave she’d met. “It is a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. Do you not agree?”

Moira nodded humbly, caught off guard by the princess’s sudden interest in her. “I-I agree, yes. Thank you.” Moira then proceeded towards the door, sheepishly asking, “What shall I call you, lady?”

“Blædswith. You may consider me a friend... if you do as told.” The Saxon grinned, now propping herself up on pillows and carefully pulling the fur pelt over her chest. “I can offer you far more than the Thurgilson brothers for your loyalty.”

Moira’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a sense of hope. “I-I shall see you again soon, Blædswith, when I return to tidy Sigefrid’s chambers.” With a courteous bow, she slipped out of the room and back into the realm of chaos instilled by Sigefrid Thurgilson, leaving Blædswith’s head suddenly spinning.

It all made sense, now, why she had slept in a room so breathtaking; so fitting for a princess, even.

Lady Blædswith of Wessex had spent the night in Sigefrid Thurgilson’s private chambers,

and she doubted it would be the last time.

____________________ ➴ ____________________

With the descendence of evening fall came a sense of tranquility over the land. In recent hours past, the clan’s discord had simmered down as the Danes dispersed, returning Beamfleot to its once habitual state of being.

Blædswith, after restlessly tossing and turning, found herself buried beneath a mountain of fur pelts and pillows as if she were a child hiding from her parents. The princess stirred uneasily, wondering what would happen to her come dusk. She wondered why Sigefrid had not visited her, though it was likely for the best if he was still tense from earlier. However short-tempered Sigefrid was, Blædswith believed his company was better than none. A sense of loneliness and abandonment had overcome her vulnerable mind after spending an entire day imprisoned by herself.

When Blædswith finally began to drift off to sleep, she could hear the bedroom door knob fumbling as someone struggled to unlock it from the outside. With a loud creak, an unwelcome figure crept into the room and locked the door behind them.

Blædswith could feel her dry throat clench, and stomach coil into a tight, fearful knot. She listened as their footsteps drew near to the bed. Not a word was spoken in greeting, as if they intended to surprise the bed’s sleeping inhabitant. Ever so slowly, Blædswith’s fingers inched beneath her pillow and towards her knife. Her trembling body was otherwise still; frozen, even, as a paralyzing fear surged through her veins like a potent venom.

She could hear a pair of shoes being unlaced, and sloppily tossed against the nearest wall with seemingly little care of waking her. Something heavy yet soft fell to the floor, such as a fur pelt, before they began high-stepping out of something.

Somebody was taking their clothes off.

Tightly gripping onto the handle of her knife, Blædswith threw back her blankets and sprung to her knees, holding her knife outwards towards the foot end of the bed where her intruder stood completely naked from head to toe.

Having expected it to be Hæsten, or perhaps even Sigefrid, the frightened princess was flabbergasted and utterly appalled to see a bare-chested woman standing before her whose surprised look mirrored her own.

The two, in unison, gasped like fish out of water.

“Gahhh! What are you doing?!” Blædswith shrieked, turning away from the woman who showed no sense of urgency to cover herself. “W-who are you?!”

“I am Sigefrid’s mistress.” The dark haired woman sneered rather sharply, as if insulted that Blædswith hadn’t heard of her.

“Bloody Hell.” Blædswith groaned, chest rising and falling quickly with each rapid breath she drew, “Well, I am not Sigefrid! Y-you may…” She nodded with utmost caution, seeing as the woman was easily twice her size. “...you may put your clothes on and leave. Now.”

“Oh?” The large woman chuckled lowly with the shake of her head. “You do not get to bark orders. You are that damned Saxon princess Sigefrid won’t shut up about.” She quirked an eyebrow down at the princess as her lips formed a devilish grin. “But... he will have nothing to talk about if you are gone.”

“Gone?” Blædswith croaked. “I-I do not wish to leave-”

“You will leave, here, when I send you to meet your false God.” The woman snarled, suddenly lunging at Blædswith like a wild cat springing towards its prey, pinning her elbows to the bed causing the knife, her main source of defense, to fall to the floor.

“Shit!” Blædswith gasped, as she began awkwardly wriggling beneath the maddened woman, trying her best to divert her gaze from the Dane’s exposed breasts. Blædswith began kneeing her repeatedly in the gut, crying out in pain while doing so as pain scorched through her own torso. “Get off of me!” Blædswith whimpered, able to free an arm from the Dane’s clammy grasp to strike a fist at the side of her face.

The bear-like woman seemed virtually unphased.

“I do not want to kill you!” Blædswith leaned forward, head butting the brawny Dane though seeming to do more damage to herself than her attacker. Blædswith attempted to intertwine their legs together, only to have her shins kicked at until bruises began to form.

“Is that all you have got, princess? You could not kill me if you tried.” Sigefrid’s mistress chuckled menacingly, suddenly taking a firm hold of Blædswith’s throat with both hands in an attempt to choke and suffocate her. With the larger woman’s full body weight atop of her small frame, Blædswith was physically unable to push her off, nor pry her claws from her throat.

“I thought you wanted to be a Dane?” The mistress goaded, watching the color drain from the princess’s cheeks as she writhed and gasped for air. Scorching tears burning trails down her cheeks as she choked on her own sobs. “You are a sorry excuse for a Saxon. For a Christian.” She then dug her fingertips into Blædswith’s freshly cauterized shoulder, causing the princess to whimper and cry out like a dog that had been run over by a cart.

With a low growl, Blædswith managed,

“I am not a Christian.”

With her remaining strength, Blædswith wrapped an arm and leg over the nude woman’s back and jerked them both off the bed and onto the floor, causing the Dane to momentarily let go of her throat. Diving away from the bed, gasping, the princess began painfully crawling on her elbows and knees towards the knife, shouting and kicking out behind her like a wild horse after feeling a calloused hand grasp to either of her ankles.

With a loud cry, and all that she had left within her, Blædswith took hold of the knife once more after continuously crawling forward and being dragged back. Just as the Dane lowered herself towards the princess, hoping to pin her again, Blædswith flipped onto her back and slashed the throat of her assailant with a loud grunt, causing the woman to clutch her gaping wound with both hands as thick streams of red seeped between her fingers. Sigefrid’s mistress fell onto her side, gurgling profusely, as she began to accept her fate dealt by the hand of a Saxon princess.

Blædswith, now hovering above the dying woman, took it upon herself to jab the knife beneath her ribs, driving it up towards the Dane’s gaping throat as if she were skinning a deer, or even performing a reverse blood eagle.

“We could have lived together... peacefully.” Blædswith grunted, forcing the knife deeper into the woman’s core. “You did this, not me! I never would have wished you any harm!” The princess began twisting the knife as the Dane let out a final gasp. “You killed yourself. Tell that to your gods.”

The light in the Dane’s eyes began to fade, though she quietly managed through airy pants, “I… knew I was… done for when... he… he called out your name…” Her head rolled lazily around her shoulders, allowing her to look the princess in the eyes and whisper, “Blædswith.”

The Dane fell limp as a dark pool of blood engulfed her massive form. It looked as if she had been mangled and sacrificed to the Pagan gods above. Blædswith opened the mistresses’ large hand, and placed the handle of the knife within her palm before closing her fingers into a tight fist. With a sigh, she whispered, “Valhalla calls you. I will not deny you your gods… even if you did try to kill me. Perhaps, in another life, we shall meet again.”

Crawling away from the fresh corpse, Blædswith found herself crumpled and hunched over against the other side of the bed facing the door. She looked down at her sticky, bloodied hands resting palm up on her lap as a rogue tear caressed the side of her cheek. Her nightgown had been stained with hand prints and smears of red, and the skin of her neck felt raw to the touch as if she had been gripped by the devil himself.

Sobbing, she feared she would never truly be safe, and never be accepted by the Danes no matter what she does. She worried she would always be a target - always the enemy - even if she has denounced her Christian God. Until she has regained her strength, she will never be able to fully defend herself in Sigefrid’s recurring absence. Angrily, she questioned whether or not he had intentionally, repeatedly, neglected her.

Was Sigefrid testing her? Proving that what he said about her was true?

Not a single guard rushed to her aid. Not even Sigefrid, nor Erik. Blædswith understood they were busy, therefore could not be her caretakers. Most of the Danes she knew weren’t nurturing by nature… however, she had expected the Thurgilson brothers to better protect such a valuable asset - especially if Sigefrid expected her to stay.

There was something different in the air; something off. There wasn’t a single doubt in Blædswith’s mind that Hæsten was behind the attack. It was likely he dismissed Sigefrid’s guards as he did by the lake, and encouraged Sigefrid’s woman to visit his chambers knowing full well the princess would be there, instead.

Was Hæsten planning, in secret, to overthrow his lords? Or was he simply trying to get revenge on the Saxon princess anyway that he could? Perhaps his plan was to kill two birds with one stone… and that Sigefrid’s hostile mistress was just the first of many to come...

____________________ ➴ ____________________

Shadows filled Sigefrid’s chambers as twilight descended upon the fort. It felt as though the gods above had readied themselves for a blissful night’s slumber after a long day of watching over Midgard and its Danes.

On the hard wooden floor she remained, even all these hours later. Her hands were stiff with dried blood; her mind, body, and soul numb to the feeling as she stared off into the distance through heavy lids, anticipating someone unpleasant to burst through the door at any moment. She feared she wouldn’t have the strength to resist their advances in her current state of lethargy.

Every so often she swore to have seen Moira, or perhaps the spirit of, the first slave girl she met, lying atop the bed with her fragile hands folded over her chest. Guilt feasted on her insides like hungry Danes supping at the Great Hall. When Moira was no longer there, behind Blædswith’s head, she would see the face of Sigefrid’s mistress. Her ghost seemed to lurk in the shadows of the room’s darkest corners, haunting Blædswith even in death.

Blædswith ran the backs of her shaky hands over her drowsy eyes. In the end, her own mind; her own guilt and grievances had truly gotten the best of her.

A gentle knock on the door, followed by the friendly voice of Moira II, seemed to be enough to lift the princess’s spirits as she entered the room with a fresh outfit draped over her forearm. Upon noticing the princess bloodied and on the floor, Moira gasped and immediately dropped the clothes before running to her aid. Once knelt before the Saxon, she began looking her over to see if she had been mortally wounded.

“Blædswith!? Are you alright?” She panicked, placing a small, child-like hand to the princess’s cheek. Moira sighed in relief, feeling a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders as Blædswith nodded ever so feebly. “W-what happened? Who did this to you?”

Raising a shaky arm out to her side like an injured raven preparing for flight, Blædswith pointed a single finger towards the other side of the bed.

She didn’t utter a single word, for she couldn’t find the right thing to say.

On her hands and knees like a hound, the slave crawled around the foot end of the bed, now following a smeared trail of blood until she found the body of Sigefrid’s old woman - one she knew far too well.

“Christ almighty.” She shrieked and motioned her hand in the shape of a cross over her chest. That caught Blædswith by surprise - how anyone, let alone a slave - could possibly preserve their faith in God whilst living in Daneland.

“Sigefrid’s mistress intended to… seduce him. She found me instead.” Blædswith croaked dryly with a faint grin, now pressing a hand to her ribs. “She tried to kill me.”

“There were no guards outside your door, Blædswith.” Moira cried, hurrying back to the princess’s side with a look of worry and concern engraved on her face. “Sigefrid ordered them to stay, I-I heard him. I fear they... took orders from someone else-”

Blædswith nodded her head and interjected, “Hæsten is behind this, he must be. He will not stop until I am dead, and rotting at the bottom of the sea. There are many who follow him… I fear he is planning a coup against the brothers, but they are blind to it...” The princess huffed and firmly pursed her dried lips together. “The men Sigefrid trusts are disloyal. I have seen it many times in my short while. I must help him see what he can’t. For if I do not… we may all be killed.”

Moira rose to her feet and approached the pile of clothing on the floor, scooped it all up in her arms and displayed the garments on the bed as nicely as she could. “Perhaps you can tell Sigefrid tonight. Well, after I-I get you cleaned up. Y-you look as if you slaughtered a pig.” She grinned and kindly helped Blædswith to her feet.

“What do you mean, tonight? W-what is tonight?” Startled and confused, Blædswith’s thick brows furrowed together, though she found herself staring in awe at the beautiful Danish garb laid before her.

What is all this for?

“Sigefrid has requested your presence, tonight, for dinner in the mead hall.” With a quick nod, Moira escorted Blædswith to the nearest armchair where she was to wait patiently for her return with a rag and bucket of water - not unlike she had done the night prior, where she waded in the frigid lake water.

“Then I must go.” Blædswith inhaled sharply, glancing towards the door as if expecting another intrusion. “This may be my last chance to warn him before it is too late.”

Before leaving, Moira retrieved a small, sharpened axe from beneath her shawl that she had looted from one of the brothers.

“Sigefrid could kill you for this.” Blædswith warned though graciously took the axe from the noble slave girl.

Moira, within feet of the door, nodded solemnly over her shoulder with a kind smile and soothed, “I know.”

____________________ ➴ ____________________

“I do not wish to be humiliated tonight.” Blædswith pouted, running her hands down the front of the apron dress Sigefrid chose for her to wear. She muttered beneath her breath, “I have been tormented enough.”

As a base layer, Blædswith wore a white, long sleeved smock that brushed against her ankles. On top was a shorter, red apron fastened by a string of beads across her chest strewn between a large, silver brooch on either strap - both beautifully engraved in Danish runes. Her feet had slipped into a pair of lace up shoes made of soft, pliable leather. Blædswith’s elongated fingers and narrow wrists were embellished in the finest silver jewelry in the land.

Atop of the princess’s head were three intricate braids running from her hairline to the back of her skull where they were joined by a thin band of leather. While her loose hair cascaded down her shoulders, on either side of her neck hung a single braid that lay against her free flowing locks.

“The brothers will protect you. Y-you have little to worry about.” Moira soothed, approaching the princess from behind to drape a small, light-brown pelt over her shoulders. “You look beautiful.” Moira complimented in awe as she pulled the length of Blædswith’s dark mane out from beneath the fur.

Stepping in front of the princess in place of a mirror, Moira clasped her hands together against her chest and studied Blædswith from head to toe to ensure she looked as Sigefrid wanted. “You look every bit a Dane, and a-a lovely one at that.” Moira began fiddling with the fur pelt draped over Blædswith’s shoulders, adjusting the brooches upon her chest, and flattening out any creases in her skirt.

Astounded, Moira chirped, “T-the gods truly favor Lord Sigefrid.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well…” Moira grinned from ear to ear, cocking her head to the side, “Why else would they have brought him you?” With that, the unlikely pair interlocked arms and headed towards the door, only for Blædswith to halt in her tracks.

“What about her?” Blædswith motioned towards the Danish woman she had slain. “We can not just leave her.” She began to panic as the potential consequences for her actions flooded through her mind. Moira quickly shook her head and guided Blædswith to face her, rather than the lifeless body of her assailant.

“I will take care of Yrsa.” Moira spat the woman’s name bitterly with a hateful snarl. “I never liked her. S-she will be cut up, and served to Sigefrid’s hound for dinner. You have my word.” Moira placed a firm hand to Blædswith’s shoulder as the two exchanged comforting glances.

“You are mad.” The princess teased with a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she noted, “He likes his meat well done, by the way.”

Stepping out into the noisy hallway, arm in arm, they strolled towards the staircase. Blædswith could hear the merry laughter, chanting, and singing of jovial Danes downing horns of ale by the minute. To her discomfort she felt their arms suddenly unravel, realizing just how tightly she had been holding on to her escort. “You are not coming with me?” Blædswith frowned. “Why?”

Moira shook her head, and took a courteous step back towards Sigefrid’s chambers. “Y-you must do this alone. I will dispose of Yrsa’s body.”

“I can not-”

“Do you have the axe?” Moira pressed firmly.

Blædswith nodded in defeat, patting the right pocket of her apron. “I do.”

“Then go.” Moira hummed with a shooing motion. “Sigefrid Thurgilson awaits you.”

Like a moth drawn to candle light Blædswith’s feet carried her to the top of the stairs where she found herself clutching tightly to the support rail, looking down at the night’s festivities that beckoned her.

Her beating heart drowned out the sounds of Danes laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Those up and about, dancing around like children of the night seemed to move in slow motion. Everyone around her had come to a halt, paralyzed in time as the world simply stopped.

All because she saw him - though he had already been looking up at her.

Once engrossed in hearty laughter and storytelling by a large bonfire, Sigefrid’s attention suddenly fell elsewhere, towards the divine woman overlooking the mead hall in all her glory. It took him a moment to realize who had captivated his being; the entirety of his lonesome heart with her ethereal beauty. To no surprise, it was none other than his beloved princess, Blædswith.

Sigefrid’s slowly lowered a cup of ale from his parting lips. His eyes, crinkling in the corners, dazzled with such fondness and desire for the woman he admired so dearly. His bearded lips curled into a wide, toothy smile as he tossed the cup aside and excitedly jumped to his feet. His hand quickly readjusted his armored chest plate prior to greeting the lady of the hour, the eldest daughter of King Alfred.

As she descended down the stairs, fingertips running along the railing, she bashfully looked away from Sigefrid who was smiling like a fool upon her arrival. Blædswith could feel a warm heat beneath her cheeks as virtually everyone in the hall stopped what they were doing to stare in awe. There were mixed feelings - some were relieved to see the princess healthy and alive, while others regretted not killing her, or worse, when they had the chance.

“Lady Blædswith.” Sigefrid greeted ever so charmingly and strolled closer. “What a lovely surprise.” Upon doing so, he noticed the redness of her neck and frowned, exhaling sharply through his teeth at the mere thought of someone laying a hand on what was rightfully his. His brows suddenly furrowed as he took hold of her forearm and pulled her closer. “Who did this?” Sigefrid snarled as those spectating returned to their prior festivities. Frantically scanning her face for answers, he grew impatient when Blædswith remained silent.

Troubled, Sigefrid rattled her arm and sternly repeated, “Who?”

With the shake of her head, the princess caressed the side of his face and closed the gap between their bodies. “Now is not the time.” She glanced over each shoulder. “Rest assured, they are no longer a threat.” Pushing off of her toes, she rested a hand against his chest and pressed a gentle, comforting kiss to his lips.

Sigefrid did not fathom how ravenous he had been until he tasted, once more, the sweetest gift from the gods. Pulling her lower body against his, Sigefrid hungrily devoured her lips, fighting the urge to abandon the grand feast he had planned so he could ravish her within the privacy of his chambers. His calloused hand rested at the base of her skull, sending chills down her body as he intertwined strands of her hair between his fingers. Blædswith pulled him impossibly closer by his armor and deepend the kiss, taking his bottom lip between her teeth as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Sigefrid chuckled to himself with a wide, boyish smirk, as Blædswith began placing a trail of kisses down the length of his neck, stopping just above his collarbone. A stifled moan escaped through his lips after realizing he’d been holding his breath. His eyes fluttered shut, and his tongue dragged over his lips to savor the taste of hers, all while marveling at his wildest fantasies coming true.

“I missed you.” Blædswith cooed in his ear before pressing her greedy lips onto his once more, no longer resisting the urges within that she had fought long and hard to suppress. When they parted for air, they found themselves gently nudging one another with their noses - smiling like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.

“Oh,” He chuckled amusingly, “how I have missed you.” He could feel his lower half stiffen uncomfortably in her presence as his heart beat inhumanly fast against his armor. Biting the tip of his tongue with an irresistibly flirty smile, he motioned for Blædswith to walk alongside him towards a long, wooden table seated with Danes challenging each other to eating contests and arm wrestling matches. “Come.” He reached back, taking her hand in his. “I need to wash away the taste of betrayal.” As Blædswith followed closely behind, cheeks flushed and core left aching after the heated moment they had just shared. She felt as if she were floating on cloud-nine, bit buzzed from the feeling of euphoria he instilled within her.

However, that feeling quickly faded as she cowered away from the looks of hatred and pure disgust she received. Blædswith could hear whispers of her name throughout the hall from those wondering what Sigefrid’s intentions were with the king’s daughter.

“Why is she not in her cage?”

“What in Odin’s name is Lord Sigefrid doing with our princess?”

As they neared the table Blædswith searched for an empty seat, preferably one close to the dark haired Thurgilson brother. Apprehensive, the princess distanced herself whilst Sigefrid continued ahead of her. Noticing her absence by his side, he turned on his heels and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

The princess shrugged sheepishly. “I-I do not see a place for me to sit.”

“You will sit… with me.” Sigefrid squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her to the short end of the table where two carved, wooden thrones awaited them. Erik, she noticed, was comfortably seated in a third throne at the other end of the table.

“I hope... it is to your liking.”

“I-I do not know what to say.” Blædswith smiled as he helped her to her seat before making himself comfortable in his rightful place beside her. Before he could notice, she plucked the axe from her pocket and dropped it behind the throne.

She felt safe enough in Sigefrid’s presence, that surely, it would not be of use to her.

The Danish lord couldn’t help but stare, seeing how tall and powerful she sat where his brother had. Once broken and defeated, she held her head high and overlooked those who despise, yet envy her all the same. With a freshly brewed horn of ale now in hand, Sigefrid’s eyes fell to her exposed chest concealing her lonely heart that yearned for him; for their souls to collide as their warm breaths intertwine beneath Odin’s watchful eye.

Peering across the table, Blædswith fortuitously caught Erik’s attention. The two exchanged gentle smiles as Erik nodded, assuring her that she was safe, and in good hands with his brother. She mouthed a quiet “thank you”, not only for allowing her to sit upon his throne, but for every kind gesture he’s done since they met.

“Two days ago…” Blædswith spoke down at herself, “it was as if I were a caged animal. Scared… afraid. Now I feel like a queen.” The corners of her lips squirmed as she fought to conceal an overwhelming feeling of joy, and finally, of freedom. “Why?” She looked up at Sigefrid with glossy eyes, and a faint half-smile. “We used to hate each other. W-what are we doing?”

Sigefrid leaned towards her, resting an elbow upon the armrest of his throne. He exhaled sharply, “While I have not been kind to you, Lady… I never hated you.” He spoke grimly, lowering his serious gaze that seemed to sparkle beneath the overhead candelabra. “I have learned from my mistakes; my failures as Lord of Beamfleot… and as a man.” Sigefrid reached forward and poured her a cup of ale, offering it to the princess in which she graciously took and drank from.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in even closer. “I will make things… better… between us. I presume my chambers were to your liking, were they not?”

“Your chambers were lovely… though a bit lonely.” Blædswith grinned faintly, feeling herself give in to the burning subject on her mind. “Sigefrid… I would not advise you to sleep there furthermore.” The Saxon whispered discreetly in between sips of ale. “It is not safe.”

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid suddenly shot upright, throwing a half empty horn of ale over his shoulder, nearly hitting a slave girl passing by with a tray of food.

With a heavy sigh, Blædswith chugged the rest of her cup and tossed it aside, too. Carefully choosing her words, she mumbled nonchalantly, “Your mistress did not take too kindly to another woman in her bed.” She could feel the skin on the back of her neck burning as if inches away from a blacksmith’s forge. “She entered your chambers, and upon recognizing me, she... tried to kill me.” Blædswith gently rubbed her throat, grimly recalling when she had been strangled.

“And… what did you do?” Sigefrid, practically perched on the armrest like a bird, held onto her every word as if it were to be her last. A mixed array of emotions overcame him, from nauseating worry and dread to fear of the worst. His mind couldn’t fathom how his mistress slipped past his guards, so he felt embarrassed and burdened with guilt that Blædswith found out about Yrsa that way, or at all. While he knew his mistress to be short tempered as he is, he never would have imagined her to attack King Alfred’s daughter out of pure jealousy.

“I slit her throat and gutted her like a deer.” Blædswith deadpanned before an unfamiliar slave girl offered her a second cup of ale, in which she quickly drank from and muttered a quiet “Sköl” as she turned to face the hall.

“Sköl.”

“I am sorry about Yrsa. I tried to reason with her. She would not listen.”

“She was a mad woman.” Sigefrid shook his head shamefully and downed more of his ale. “There were times... I feared this would happen. Not to you, but… to someone.” After a big gulp of ale, he wiped his beard with the back of his arm and shamefully sunk back into his throne, closing his eyes and cursing himself to the gods for neglecting their gift to him.

“Your guards were dismissed from their duties. When your slave came to get me, they had been long gone.” Blædswith stirred uneasily, distracting herself by glancing around the hall. “That is how Yrsa got in.”

“Those men will be dealt with. I can assure you that.” Sigefrid growled darkly through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white from gripping tightly onto his horn of ale. “They will be slaughtered, like that whore of a woman, Yrsa.”

“You speak of your mistress as if you do not care. Surely you must?”

“Yrsa... was a good hump. She passed the time. Unlike her, it is not your ass I want. It is yourself.” Sigefrid turned towards the Saxon, sitting as his equal, beside him. “If you will have me.”

Blædswith gasped quietly beneath her breath. “If I didn't know better, I would have thought you wanted me to stay.” Teasingly, she quirked an eyebrow as if she couldn’t tell how he felt by the way he held her close - when they exchanged such a moment of tenderness; of love, even.

“Well, do you?” The Dane teased, excitedly toying with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Do I what?” Blædswith hummed with a faux, innocent pout.

“Know better?”

Blædswith smiled down at her folded hands resting upon her lap, closing her eyes as a bright smile overcame her lips. “Even despite those who wish me dead or to be sold back to Wessex?” Blædswith then peeled the fur pelt from her shoulders, pooling it behind her.

“Even so.” Sigefrid nodded with a wink. His lips slowly parted in awe as he watched Blædswith rise from her throne, now standing before his knees. She began bunching the skirt of her dress at her hips, stepping over his large boots to place herself deep within his lap; his hands immediately shot to her lower waist, pressing her hips firmly against the front of his bulging pants with a breathy groan.

Numerous Danes whistled and hollered at Blædswith’s sudden gesture.

“I am giving up everything for you. My family, my kingdom. My crown.” Blædswith pinned his wrists to the throne’s armrests, causing Sigefrid to throw his head back against his seat. She could see him gulp drly; the muscular veins of his neck protruding as he fought every primal urge within him to tear her dress to shreds. “I have conditions.”

“Name them.” Sigefrid groaned as Blædswith began to slowly grind her hips against the mighty Thor’s hammer beneath her. She could feel the muscles of his arms flinching beneath her grasp, knowing full well he was stronger than her and could pry her hands off at any moment. His chest rose and fell beneath his armor as he shifted frustratedly in his throne.

“I want to be your equal.” She purred in his ear. “I will not be treated like a common whore, or slave. You will not have any mistresses, for I will kill them all. I am all you need.” Blædswith whispered dangerously close to his lips as her knees tightened around his hips. “I am your gift from the gods…”

Sigefrid nodded, panting, “I agree to your terms,” before learning forward for a kiss, only to be stopped by Blædswith leaning back, and ceasing all movement of her body.

“Oh, I am not finished.” She taunted rather seductively, maintaining a few inches between their faces. “I no longer wish to be called lady or princess. I am Blædswith.” She paused, biting her bottom lip to suppress an unexpected whimper after feeling him move against her. “I want to learn your ways; t-to train and fight alongside you, as a shieldmaiden. That has always been a dream of mine. I-I am a Dane at heart.”

“That is… quite the ask.” Sigefrid groaned beneath the warmth of her shifting weight. “It would be an honor to fight; to drink, and lie, beside you. I have wanted this - you - ever since we met.” Sigefrid, no longer able to resist her, freed his arms from her grasp with a loud grunt. She could feel his hand wandering down her lower back, undoing the tie of her apron. “I need you to be mine. No other man can have you.”

“Then take me,” Blædswith pleaded, her tender lips mere inches from his. She cupped the sides of his prickly face with her soft hands and whimpered softly, “Take me as yours.” With a quick, affirming nod, Sigefrid crashed his lips onto hers, tangling his hand in her youthful, free flowing locks. Tilting her head to the side, he began sucking and nipping at the skin of her neck, leaving a warm trail of bruises down to her collarbone to establish his claim over her. Pushing the sleeve of her apron dress down, he sloppily kissed around her cauterized shoulder, wanting her to realize that it wasn’t appalling enough to drive him away. He wanted her to feel beautiful; wanted and desired despite her wound.

Blædswith took his hand in hers, placing atop her breast for him to knead through her dress. If it weren’t for the room full of Danes surrounding them, perhaps her dress would have been discarded ages ago. “You are not,” she gasped quietly in his ear, “disgusted by my shoulder?”

Flicking a thumb over her swollen lip, he growled, “No.” Sigefrid’s eyes were dark; completely dilated as if he were a predator consuming its prey. He looked up at her as if she were his entire world, his beginning and his end.

How strange, he thought, that in so little time Blædswith, a Saxon princess, could mean so much to him… and she may and never know it. “You could never disgust me.” Sigefrid slid his hand around her arse, giving it a firm squeeze as he made his way to her undergarments, pulling and tugging on the fabric until it tore at the seams.

He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs as his fingers neared, only for Blædswith to shake her head and whimper, “No, we can’t.”

“You do not want to?” A confused Sigefrid panted quietly, almost offended that she had denied him entrance to her most sacred body. “I do not understand-”

“Of course I want to.” She smiled with an airy chuckle. “When I give myself to you,” she gently caressed the side of his face as his arms rested around her waist, “I want it to only be us, and the gods, in the room. I do not wish to be in pain, either.” She motioned down to her ribs, which had ached the entire time. “Besides, if we start now, I-I won’t be able to stop in time for the main feast.” She teased lightly, causing Sigefrid’s chest to rumble with laughter.

“I am not hungry.” Sigefrid chuckled with a sly grin, flicking his tongue over his lips.

“Of course not.” Pressing her forehead against his, she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. “Well, I am starving. After tonight I am not going anywhere. I promise.” Blædswith soothed, tracing her fingers down the length of his arm, until she reached his hand. Taking it in her own, she raised his knuckles to her lips and gently kissed each one. “I have denounced the Christian God. My engagement is invalid…” Blædswith courteously pushed herself off of him, adjusting her straps of her apron and pulling down her skirt to avoid flashing the entire hall. “I am a free woman.”

“Not anymore.” Sigefrid smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Blædswith could ask what trouble he was up to, Sigefrid blew through a large horn, immediately gaining the hall’s attention. Blædswith was left standing upon wobbly legs, flustered and breathless. Her entire body was flushed pink, nearly matching the color of her apron. Even a half-conscious drunk could look at her tangled hair and know what she and Lord Sigefrid had been up to - there was no keeping it a secret.

The entire mead hall fell silent, except for a quiet hum of music in the near distance.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sigefrid began, “I have something to say, to each of you.” A low murmur rose out of suspicion. “You will now be disappointed to know, that Lady Blædswith of Wessex, here, is now mine.” He couldn’t help himself but to chuckle haughtily. “No man is to touch her. Not with his hands, and not with his tiny cock… unless he wishes to lose it.” As he raised his hand-blade to the crowd, he couldn’t help but smile down at the beautiful woman whose warm hand rested upon his chest - a feeling he would truly never grow tired of.

From across the hall, the sight of his brother gazing down upon the woman he admired warmed Erik’s heart, seeing as Sigefrid’s gentler side rarely saw the light of day.

“What about our wealth? Our promised glory?” An older, toothless Dane called out, followed by an uproar of support from those standing around him.

“Blædswith is a great warrior, whom I have grown fond of.” Sigefrid argued with a scowl, glaring down at his followers. “She is far more valuable, than any silver.”

Blædswith let go of Sigefrid’s armor, and stepped forward to address the room. “I hope it brings you peace, knowing that I am no longer a Christian. I am not your enemy, but King Alfred’s. It would bring me no greater joy than to raid Wessex and pillage my father’s wealth. If you will accept me, as a Dane, I shall reward you greatly.” Blædswith could feel Sigefrid’s chest press against her back as he protectively stood by her side.

After a few moments of silence, cheering and applause rang throughout the entire hall. Upon Sigefrid’s request, a slave girl brought them each a third cup of ale, in which Blædswith raised into the air and shouted, “Sköl!”

Immediately following, Sigefrid, Erik, and those in support sang in unison, “Sköl!” and the night’s festivities continued on. Once finished with their ale, the unlikely Saxon-Dane duo found themselves laughing, singing, and dancing to the upbeat rhythm that was sure to play into the early hours of the morning. Sigefrid found himself upon his throne once more, arms wrapped around Blædswith’s waist who sat across his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, playfully nipping and planting kissed along the marks he’d already left. The two swayed back and forth to the music, engrossing themselves in the stories being told at the table before them.

“Sigefrid?” The beautiful woman sitting upon his thighs whispered, running her fingertips over the length of his beard. Sigefrid hummed in response, brushing fallen strands of hair from her ethereal complexion. “I have… something else to ask you...” Interrupting her train of thought, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of strikingly familiar face slithering through the clusters of Danes until they reached the table where Lord Sigefrid and his new woman sat enthralled with one another.

“Why is he here?” She groaned against Sigefrid’s neck, only for the eldest lord of Beamfleot to shake his head with a sigh in defeat.

With a large cup of ale in hand, a disfigured Hæsten took one last gulp and let the cup fall from his fingertips, now rolling under the table. Before Blædswith, or even Sigefrid could properly react, he looked between them and slurred, “Sigefrid. Blædswith? What did I miss?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: Well Hæsten, it’s safe to say you missed a lot - lol. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I hope it was worth it!

I’m contemplating whether or not to add real smut to the story... 👀

🏷 Tags: (hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @eclipsedbymyheart @henrycavill19 @aesirharvorsson @finantheagile @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously @chlomidgard @dagonet-ironside @marv-llous @littlebirdgot @curlyrat @beesbrains @godricsvalley @alina-exe @lazypeachsoul

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astrology-india · 3 years

Text

How to Cope When a Libra Man Ignores You

New Post has been published on https://www.astrology-india.com/when-a-libra-man-ignores-you/

How to Cope When a Libra Man Ignores You

You are probably wondering why the Libra man who swooped in to charm your socks off is now nowhere to be found?

It may surprise you that it is not an uncommon theme for the Libra, nor is it necessarily the death of your relationship with him either, especially if you know what to do when a Libra man ignores you.

When a Libra Man Ignores You?

What happened to your Libra man? The one who seemed easygoing and so much fun? Why is he suddenly serious and distant now?

It does not make a whole lot of sense, but when you understand the Libra man, it is a little less confusing.

He is Flimsy

The Libra man comes across as dominant, yet at the same time soft and sweet. He is masculine while being strangely in touch with his feminine side.

By all accounts, you would expect him to be someone who you can rely on, a strong-willed guy who will stand his ground and stick to his guns.

And he can be that man, however, one negative aspect of Libra is that he can also be unreliable and indecisive.

The guy might have no idea what it is that he wants in the first place, making it impossible for him to stick to anything. If he is that type of Libra, then you can bet that he flip-flops in most of his relationships.

This is not all bad news. Most Libra men who pull the disappearing act really just need some time to work things out.

What it Means When a Libra Man Stops Trying

It means something is missing from the relationship, and that something could be the main thing he needs in order to have a purpose in life as a man.

It is a deep emotional obsession that most men have but rarely talks openly about. Unless they have a Ph.D. in male psychology and masculinity needs.

This emotion in a Libra man is overlooked by most women because they don’t understand it until it is sometimes too late. Once you know about it, it’s really simple to use it to your advantage.

If you want your guy to show you love and the attention you deserve, you need to hook into the underlying reason which is explained in a video by relationship expert James Bauer entitled His Secret Obsession.

You Hurt His Feelings

Libra is not a sensitive, over-emotional sign by any means. The man is rational and shoots straight from the hip. This is strange because when he gets hurt it could seem just the opposite.

The Libra man does not forget, nor does he forgive that easily. In this sense, he is the Scorpio of air signs, only less vengeful. Mostly, you will never even know that he is upset or what it was exactly that you have done.

The Libra man is usually highly diplomatic and prefers not to rock the boat. So, if you did something to upset him, he will deal with it passively, like ignoring you for example.

Your Libra Man is Busy

Libra deals with balance in all aspects, and his life’s theme is to learn the art of it. It only makes sense then that Libra is a sign of self-improvement.

Believe it or not, this can take up a lot of his time and also lead him to distance himself from others on occasion to focus.

Sometimes his need to recalibrate and improve is his own fault. His indecisiveness, procrastination, and tendency to indulge often knock things out of whack for him, then it becomes his mission to fix it.

His other extreme is to socialize and have fun 100 percent of the time. Either way, the Libra man knows how to keep himself busy.

It Is a Surface Level Attraction

Libras are connoisseurs of everything beautiful. They are highly aesthetic beings who love the world of art and comfort and pleasant surroundings.

But this overindulgence in what is visually pleasing gets him into trouble as far as his relationships are concerned.

He is attracted to people with physical beauty and sometimes he fails to see beneath the skin.

If this is the reason for your Libra man’s sudden disappearance, it does not mean necessarily that he does not like you or your personality. Perhaps he never gave himself the chance to know you in the first place.

He is not Interested

One of the great tragedies of our existence is that love is not always reciprocated. Just when we swear we have met the one, reality slaps us in the face as we watch him heading for the front door.

Libra men have their types, sometimes that type is himself. But like any sign, there are people with astrological differences who we cannot seem to relate to no matter how hard we try.

Sometimes our zodiac opposites can seem like they are from Mars and speak a different language.

If you want to give it all you’ve got to make it work with a Libra man, you have to understand this “greater” emotion that he needs satisfying.

It’s an obsession he can’t explain but provides the key to his heart when a woman understands how to unlock His Secret Obsession here.

How to Get a Libra Man to Stop Ignoring You

Sometimes your Libra guy just needs a wake-up call to get him to stop ignoring you. Ring his alarm by trying some of the tips out below.

Talk to Your Libra

Talk to your Libra man because the Libra male appreciates honesty.

Even though you are upset with him for bailing on you, and probably will not believe this, but he is fair, just, and strives to do what is right.

He can however be a little self-absorbed without even realizing it and maybe is unaware of his actions or their consequences.

It is important not to accuse him or engage him in a war of words. This will upset the diplomatic Libra who will only take so much of conflict before he shies away.

Send Him Flirty Text Messages

The Libra man approaches flirting like a sport, one in which he is a skilled master. It is truly an art form for him and he sees it as a dance- a push and pull, or a back and forth.

This dance heats things up by building attraction and passion, even more so if you can give him a run for his money.

Shoot your guy a flirty text, but make sure you bring your A-game. Be smart, witty, challenging, and most of all, fun.

If you would like a little help with the phrases you can text that trigger his mental G Spot and activate his subconscious desires for you, I can recommend Text Chemistry by relationship guru Amy North.

Help Him to See the Good You Bring to His Life

This can be done in a bunch of subtle ways, or you can go all out and be blatant and straightforward, whichever suits you best.

What is important is that you can get the point across without looking like it is what you are trying to do.

If he can see you are someone who adds value to his life – more specifically, that you help bring balance and harmony to it – he might just recognize you as a good choice for him, almost like you make him feel complete.

Brush Up on His Interests

The Libra man loves to talk and connect with others. What better way to do so with someone than to have common ground? For instance, something that he is passionate about?

Get your Libra man going again by showing him you can hold your own in a conversation about his interests, and a bonus if you are a good listener because we all know that he needs one.

Be Patient

Whether your Libra guy has left to go work on himself, hang out with other people, or he is trying to make up his mind about the relationship, the best thing you can do is to be patient with him.

I know, this one can seem difficult, and it might not be what you wanted to hear. But Libra is represented by the scales of justice and the scales must tip. When he regains his balance and direction, they might just tip in your favor.

Final Thoughts

How the Libra man can go from the life of the party, the charming guy who stole your heart, to be like a ghost is straight-up baffling to those unequipped with the knowledge of his inner workings.

By understanding, this “greater” thing he desires in a relationship you will secure his love and devotion. Become the only woman he ever wants. This video explains exactly how to do it.

Once you understand why your honey is M.I.A., it is a lot easier to know what to do when a Libra man ignores you so you can get him to stop once and for all.

#Ignoring me #Libra man

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kibybun · 4 years

Note

how about a yandere poly hawks+ enji or yandere aizawa and present mic get haunted by their vengeful ghost darling? Liked the last story. Yandere Supernatural AU?

Ooo! I really like both ideas so I'll do the Aizawa and Present Mic one in the next post! Here's

Poly Yandere Hawks + Endeavor x reader

Tw: Yandere, kidnapping, implided rape

Enjoy!

❤You first started out as a big fan of both heros. You had posters and match if both but what made you happiest was when you got to meet them in person.

🧡Hawks and Endeavor were on patrol together so they could talk, especially after the hero ranking with Hawk's little speach (Which you enjoyed throughly).

💛The two pros met you as you popped you and asked Endeavor for a autograph. You knew he was trying to get used to being number 1 and you just wanted to show your support.

❤Both Endeavor and Hawks were shocked with you asking for his autograph but was even more shocked with how you started gishing over the both of them.

🧡Instantly they felt so special. Having someone so adorable have such confidence to do so was so attractive to them.

💛For a minute the two of them fought over who got to sign your little notebook but you interrupt by saying they could both sign.

❤Everyone else who was around were very confused with how the two pros were fighting over something silly like an autograph but kept silent

🧡Hawks signed first then Endeavor. Once he finished, he handed back the notebook. You, being so over joyed, you hug the big hero.

💛It only lasted for a second but it was enough to turn his face pink and make Hawks incredibly jealous.

❤You pull away and thank the two heros and skip away before they could say anything.

🧡Once they were able to sneak away from the public and sit down for lunch, they talk. They dont talk about hero business like they intended. No, they talk about you.

💛Mainly it was a subtle argument about who gets you but it ended unresolved as nomu attacked.

❤The fight ends with Endeavor's debut and with him getting injured. You were still relatively close by so you heard all the commotion but thought nothing of it. When you got home and saw the news you were devastated.

🧡The next day you made your way to the hospital that he was staying at. Once there you run into Hawks.

💛He had just gotten off the phone in the lobby when he spots you. Instantly he smiles and joins you at your side.

❤You were shocked that he remembered you but happy nonetheless.

🧡You talk to him for a moment before asking about Endeavor. Instantly his face falls in annoyance before saying he's fine, trying to continue the previous conversation but you persist.

💛He gives up and drags you to Endeavor's room, even though you just wanted to know if he was ok. Once in the room you gasp in disbelief. His face was completely scared on one half.

❤You slowly walk up and crouch next to him. You hold back tears thinking about how one of your favorite heros could've lost their whole face.

🧡He laughs it off and pets your head. He sees you so much younger than him and has a hard time treating you your age.

💛Hawks scowls as the two of you start conversation. He occasionally jumps in and you laugh at all his jokes.

❤As you talked to the two of them, you tried your best not to favor one or the other. They noticed this.

🧡After you left, much to their dismay, the two of them had dreamy looks imprinted on their faces. They both were so infatuated with you, wanting you so bad even though they had only met you a day ago.

💛Hawks was a greedy man who always got what he wanted but this time, he knew he had to share. Same as Endeavor. They both saw how you admired them equally and made sure not to favor one. They found that quite endearing.

❤Before Hawks leaves Endeavor's room they work out the details of how they'd share you. Hawks would be the one to watch you when Endeavor or him couldn't be there while Endeavor would distribute punishments and rewards.

🧡They even agreed to share a apartment so their darling wouldn't get too much of one and not the other.

💛From that day on you started running into Hawks or Endeavor more and more, sometimes both. At first it seemed like a dream come true but slowly it got more and more tedious. Hawks constantly demanded attention while Endeavor talked down to you.

❤You also found it very odd that randomly two heros just started showing up in your life and showing so much interest to you. The public also noticed this.

🧡Your face slowly started circulating through media with captions depicting you as a little hero scandal. This slowly started to become really bad. Your job didnt want to be associated with your "scandal" and let you off. People started harassing you due to you being with their favorite hero's.

💛The only ones that didnt care about this was Hawks and Endeavor. In fact, they wanted this. They wanted you to solely be their's, even if they had to share with the other.

❤Today you were out trying to find another job when you bump into Hawks.

🧡You try and avoid eye contact and walk away but he just grabs you back. You're confused on why his grip is so tight on your arm as he leads you away. You also try to talk to him but he doesnt answer.

💛Finally away from the crowded streets, he looks at you. You still try to question what he's doing but he doesnt answer. All he says is that you'll be home soon, then a flurry of red feathers blind you.

❤When you come to, you're sitting on a big couch in a unfamiliar place. It's a strange place to say the least. There were two distinct styles and aesthetics that seem to clash throughout the place.

🧡You stand and look around. You were sure that you weren't tied up, it almost seemed like you were encouraged to look around.

💛You look at the decorations more closely and notice the two different styles. There was a really modern, almost minimalist, aesthetic that clashed with the more traditional and slightly cluttered aesthetic.

❤You pick up a small glass tea cup but instantly drop it hearing Endeavor's booming voice greet you.

🧡You start to panic, realizing that the hero's courting was to lure you here. Endeavor sees you panicking and leads you to sit back down. You try to fight his grasp but he only tightens his grip.

💛He curtly tells you how you'll be staying with him and Hawks. How you'll adress them as Keigo and Enji. How you follow the rules. Rules being: No showing more affection to one of them, no trying to run away, no trying to call for help, be a good house wife, and do everything and anything either one of them says without question.

❤Right as he finishes the rules, Keigo walks in. He happily sits next to you and wraps his arms around you.

🧡Thet both start listing things they expect you to do but you dont listen. You're busy thinking about how you got here, about why they want you.

💛You snap back, realizing that they noticed you weren't paying attention. They seem upset.

❤They get closer to you, pressing you against them. They say something about punishments as their breathe goes heavy and their hands start grabbing you more rough.

🧡You try to fight them off as best as you can but it was useless.

💛You were helpless. Left at the mercy of the two who live you the most.

Kiby~💚

#bnha headcanons #bnha #bnha hawks #my hero academia #my hero x reader #my hero academia keigo takami #my hero headcanons #hawks x reader #yandere hawks #hawks #mha hawks #pro hero hawks #endeavor #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #mha keigo takami #keigo tamaki

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bluebellhairpin · 5 years

Text

Something’s Not Right

Bruce Wayne/Batman X Batmom!Reader

A/N: Oh dear, here comes the angst. (This is like 6+ pages on my google docs. Ha Ha ha oops) - Nemo

Warning(s): Blood, kidnapping, almost character death, mentions of miscarriage and infertility, not necessarily in that order. This could be distressing, so don’t read this if you think it could upset you.

Summary: Ever since Batman’s third Robin, you’ve been know as the Batmom to Batman’s mask. But events lead you to break with not knowing what to do, and the only comfort you find is Alfred, who then tells you of something you never knew. With your newfound information, you set to work saving your family.

Listening to: “Something's Not Right” by Lily Allen

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You first met Batman when you were robbing a bank.

In your defense, you were a little inexperienced, and he only knew you were there because he saw a shadow pass inside through a window.

After that you kept running into each other, and ended up becoming each others first vigilante partners.

You know, before he had a million Robin’s.

You even came to know who was under the mask. Bruce Wayne the billionaire.

When he brought home the first soon-to-be Robin, Dick Grayson, you were raiding his fridge in the Manor’s kitchen, having made yourself at home over the last few years. You looked at Bruce like he was crazy, he told you he’d explain later and you sure as hell made sure he did.

You offered Dick some of the cereal you’d raided, and he accepted with a mumble and small smile. From speaking to Bruce later, that boy had been through a lot.

You only hoped that Bruce wouldn’t push him too hard.

We had forever We never got it together

Jason Todd joined a few years later, having been found by both you and Bruce trying to steal hubcaps. When Bruce brought him inside after the to had talked, you got the horrible feeling that Jason would become a Robin too.

Your worries were confirmed when you caught Bruce and Jason sparring in the cave. You caught Bruce’s eye, and he froze. You shook your head at him and he knew he had more explaining to do.

After that, you become monitor of the computer. With Jason as the new Robin, and Dick starting to spread his wings off as Nightwing, you didn’t desperately need to be out fighting anymore. Someone needed to stay home, and with your relationship with Bruce becoming something more than friends, he felt better when you weren’t in danger.

When he brought that up, you never once failed to play the card of “What about Dick and Jason?”

Despite Dick being Nightwing and not living permanently at home, or Jason not really wanting to be in the Cave when he could have the house all to himself aside from Alfred, they always managed to be in the staircase of the cave when your voices started to raise in the same heated discussion. They knew it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You were protective, viewing them as the sons you could never have, and Bruce was too careless for his own good.

But really what they stayed for was what happened after the yelling, the telling off, and the arguing. You always made up after, with softer words, a hug and a kiss. They’d never seen anyone else do that after a fight.

I waited for you For you I made it better

Jason's death hit you all hard, but Bruce didn’t get over it.

Then, a couple years after Jason died, Bruce came home with another boy donned in Jason’s old Robin suit. He introduced himself as Tim Drake. He said he knew who you were, and you told him ‘Who doesn’t know (y/n) Wayne?’. Then he said he knew who you really were.

'Valentine' was a name previously not spoken directly to you in over half a decade, and this thirteen-year-old seemed to know more about you than you thought possible.

The next few years went on with their own struggles. Bruce got used to having a Robin again. Tim dealt with troubles and struggles in the form of his real parents. You got over the fact Tim was wearing Jason’s costume once he got his own. And Tim became a permanent residence of the manor.

With Bruce and Dick protecting the city, Tim as Robin, and Alfred wanting to keep monitor duty with Tim, you gave up the vigilante life for good.

Nowadays you only ever went to the cave to deal with injuries, last-resort monitor duty, and scolding Bruce or Tim for staying up too late.

The one thing that didn’t seem to change was Alfred and Dick. They were always there, always a shoulder to cry on, and a listening ear. They knew how hard it got for both you and Bruce.

Dick wanted to be there to show he was grateful for what you’d done in the past.

Alfred was there because that’s where he belonged.

They kept telling me that it was unlikely All I had to do was keep you beside me

Once everything seemed to be falling back into a semi-blissful state, the world served another harsh blow. The first was to Bruce, in the form of a vengeful and now alive Jason Todd.

While Bruce had to serve every night going out to face the Red Hood, you went back to the monitor spending your days trying to track Jason down. Now that your boy was back you needed to have him home. Even though they didn’t know it, you knew that what both Bruce and Jason needed was to be together.

Naturally, once the initial tension disappeared, you were right.

Even now, now that Jason is back, you can still see the haunted look in Bruce’s eye that makes you think he’s almost believing he is seeing a ghost.

The second blow was to you, in the form of Bruce’s long-lost son Damian.

He came in silence, and for the first few days you barely noticed a change. It was mostly Bruce’s attitude and reluctance to let you in the cave that made you suspicious. Luckily for Bruce, he was around when you found Damian in the cave.

Needless to say it took a good couple hours of conversation before everything was cleared up.

Damian listened from the staircase, and eventually Tim wordlessly joined. The new duo unknowingly recreating what their predecessors did before them. Alfred felt a wave of nostalgia from just glancing at them.

What Damian couldn’t believe through the whole ‘discussion’ was how much you were blaming his father for him being in your home, not him. Even though you both were fighting over him being there, there wasn’t any hate in your words to him, only annoyance to Bruce.

He wondered exactly how many times you had to deal with the same thing before, aside from Tim.

Cause there aren’t many stars in the sky tonight

As far as you were concerned, having children of your own was never going to happen. One robbery gone wrong was enough to pull your chances of your own children from an already mere fifty to less than twenty.

It was one of the reasons you were so good at welcoming each boy into your home with such open arms. As soon as they stepped through the threshold with a tired introduction from your husband, small faces and bleary eyes, you saw them as yours. Every time, without fail.

Naturally it came as a shock to you when the doctor told you to take a pregnancy test after you’d been horrendously sick for the past week. It came as a bigger shock when the test came back positive.

Bruce’s excitement and yours was taken too soon. In reality, you knew it could’ve happened, but you didn’t think it’d happen so suddenly, or so easily.

Dick and Jason were among those waiting when you came home from the hospital, and everyone would've much preferred if the trip happened nine months later, and you’d have a bundle of blankets in your hands rather than just a bag of clothes.

Even Damian couldn’t help the horrible feeling in the bottom of his stomach. After all he still wouldn’t be a big brother.

It had been a couple weeks, but you were starting to worry. While you had grieved, and in your own way moved on, Bruce seemed to stay the same. He didn’t react. When the news came he went straight into autopilot.

In his life he’d lost a lot of people. His parents, Jason, many other residence of Gotham, and now your baby. You started to think that with every lost soul his lost part of his own too.

Cause I know that it’s day but it’s dark outside

Your worries were well served. Not even a couple nights after you voiced your concerns to Bruce himself did he and Damian get captured by the Joker.

Tim was monitoring the computers, instantly sending out and alert to Dick to go help, but he just got caught too. Tim then contacted Jason, telling him to meet him near Gotham Docks.

You wandered into the cave to see the monitor set to where Tim left it. A camera from in an old warehouse displayed all five of your boys beaten, bloodied, and tied up with the Joker pacing back and forth in front of them.

Near the monitor keyboard was a notebook, open to a page with words scribbled in Tim’s characteristically messy writing. He found writing down thoughts helped him get his mind straight. It cleared his head.

“Knows fighting styles - been monitoring us for weeks to memorize patterns - new moves needed - Jason good idea - Mom the last resort.” you read a loud, sinking to the chair at the monitor.

As you processed what was happening, you knew time was running short. You felt Alfred behind you, placing his hands reassuringly on your shoulders.

“What am I supposed to do?” you said, resting your head in your hands, “The GCPD won't be able to handle it well enough, and I can't just contact Clark or Diana. And I got rid of my suit years ago - it’s not like I can just slip on one of Bruce’s suits and go fight myself.”

“I think there’s something I should show you.” Alfred said, squeezing your shoulders.

And I feel a weight in my heart tonight

All the batsuits were displayed on one of the walls of the cave, it was like a trophy wall. And while your old Valentine suit wasn’t there, there was a display photo of you mid-flip as homage to what you’d done.

As you went passed the suits, both old and new, and the empty cases of the suits being worn by your boys, Alfred soon stopped near your photo. He pressed the logo of your photo-suit and the glass moved away, soon followed by the wall, to reveal another glass case.

“Mister Bruce has been working on it since you destroyed your old one.” Alfred explained, letting you walk forwards to inspect your pristine suit, “He figured you might need it, and if I’m being honest I did too.”

“Who else knows?” You asked, running your fingers over the fabric and the slightly darker logo on it’s chest. It was a lot like Bruce's suit.

“No one, but Tim found out, nothing’s a secret from him long.” you smiled. That’s Tim alright.

The fabric was new, a material you’d never seen before, but looked a lot like miniature chain-mail. Knife-proof.

The chest where your signature V logo was along with around your torso sounded a metallic tap. Bullet-proof.

You noted that although the mask only covered your eyes it was embedded with reflective glass. Photo-proof.

“He sure was prepared.” you said, turning back to Alfred with the mask in your hands. “Will you man the computers for me?”

“It would be an honor, Valentine.”

Something's not right

“Copy V? Guards ahead.” Alfred said. The mask was also fit with a com-link. Bruce seemed to put everything in your suit, from an oxygen mask, to a lock-pick.

“Copy.” you said, sulking along the side of the warehouse towards the guards. You knew this could get nasty fast, but over time you learnt from Bruce many ways to subdue without killing. The guards were out of it before they even knew you were there.

Inside, Bruce and the boys were getting antsy.

Once when Joker left Tim said to the others he’d left a note near the computer encase he and Jason were unsuccessful, in the hope either you or Alfred would find it and send help. It had been almost two hours, and they were starting to doubt. Especially now that Joker was back and pacing in front of them.

An explosion somewhere in another warehouse made their tired heads, and the heads of the others in the room, move towards the noise. The familiar sound of batarangs flying through the air made their head turn back right as two of the dozen guards fell to the floor, soon followed by two more.

Joker ordered to start shooting at where the batarangs were coming from, and the solid sound of shots firing rang out for a couple long moments. When a figure clad in black dropped to the floor from the beams, Bruce felt his stomach drop.

He knew that figure. He knew that suit.

“Search them. Make sure whoever it is, is dead.” Joker said, dismissive in his words but the boys could tell he was on edge. Joker had the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood and the two Robins. There wasn’t anymore, right?

The guard moved to the figure, nudging its shoulder with his foot, and with the second nudge the figure shot up, pulling the guard into a headlock, and the guard dropped down unconscious in less than a few seconds. The other guards were trained on the figure, and Joker smiled.

“Well, well, does Batsy have a new birdy?” he sang, and the figure stepped forwards out of the shadow to reveal you, donned in your Valentine suit for all to see.

“Oh no, dear Joker,” you said, matching his tone yet lacing it with as much venom as humanly possible, “I promise you I’m far from new.”

Cause I know that it’s day but it’s dark outside

The fact Joker wasn’t expecting a sixth ‘Batman partner’ to show up helped with taking down the guards. And like Tim noted, he was tracking everyone’s fighting styles. Even if Bruce was in the right mind-frame he had little chance of coming out on top.

You hadn't fought in the public eye for many years, so there was no recent footage of your style, and even so most of it was back when you weren’t working with Batman at all.

You had tied up Joker when you set to work setting the boys free, and it came as no surprise that he’d somehow gotten away by the time you’d given everyone a once-over.

Back in the cave Damian was the first. Once back in the confides of safety Damian practically flung himself into you.

“Ummi, I thought-” he said, stopping himself with a sniff and burying his nose in your stomach.

“It was a close call.” Dick added, his voice strained. With a look you pulled him closer, and one by one you managed to deal out hugs and just the right words.

In the next few hours Dick and Jason were both sent off back home with food Alfred made, and the reassurance that you’d come visit. Tim was sent off to bed, being told everything from the past events would be waiting when he wakes up. Damian was also given bed rest, but only after he got one last hug from you.

All that was left was to deal with Bruce, who’d been in the cave since you all went upstairs.

Like the feeling of rain on a Summer light

“Bruce.” you said, reaching his place at the computer. He stopped rather abruptly, and turned to face you with an agonizingly slow pace. The look on his face made you pull him into you just like you did with Dick. And for the first time in so long, Bruce cried.

He could’ve lost everything on top of the baby. The other boys. You. Himself.

He knew what he did wrong, he knew he went in without a clear head, all because something wasn’t right.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne one shot #batman one shot #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader

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emjenwrites · 4 years

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And all of the ghouls come out to play [A SoC Fanfic]

@sad-eyed-lady-of-the-low-lands requested a fic where Nina talks to Jordie’s ghost a very long time ago. I’m sorry it took so long to get this done.

I am not the first person to write a fic like this, and--if I’m remembering the proposal of one the Grishaverse Big Bang fics correctly--I’m probably not going to be the last. I chose to do this as part of the fightingverse for the sake of canon continuity. In canon Nina doesn’t realize she can hear ghosts until KoS, so this couldn’t take place in CK and these days I can’t write non-AU post-CK fics without them being fightingverse. (For example, I’ve got this idea for a crime/serial killer fic which is fightingverse solely by virtue of taking place post-CK.)

There are some mild spoilers for KoS.

This is also a bit long for Tumblr, but since it was a Tumblr request I wanted to post it here in full.

The Van Eck Mansion was quiet save for the quiet creaks of the house settling. Nina lay in the plush bed of the guest room Jesper and Wylan had insisted was hers, staring at the ceiling. She had stayed in Ketterdam for longer than she had expected to, and she was a little surprised that sometimes it was still difficult to be here. She didn’t want to think about what had happened here when she was seventeen, but sometimes at night she had no choice. She missed Hanne, but her girlfriend had stayed in Ravka to deal with an outbreak of sickness amongst the children in a couple mountain villages. The last time she’d written it had sounded like the crisis was basically over and Hanne had talked about coming to Ketterdam to meet he but that could be weeks.

Unable to spend any more time staring at the ceiling, Nina rolled out of bed and went to get a drink of water. When she pushed her door open she had to squint against the light in the hallway. It was late afternoon. They’d been up all night vandalizing the Church of Barter and had returned near dawn. After sitting in the living room as Ketterdam went nuts over their deed for a few hours, they’d all gone to bed to catch a few hours of sleep.

Once her eyes adjusted, she started down the hall. She only made it a couple steps when she froze in shock.

There was a boy standing in the middle of the hallway with his back to her.

Nina stopped. She had been staying with Jesper and Wylan for a month, but she had never seen this boy before. What was he doing here? Had he snuck inside? If so, how?

“You there!” Nina called. “What are you doing?”

The boy turned around, his expression one of shock. He had a mop of unruly dark hair and a round face. His eyes were coffee-dark and familiar, though Nina couldn’t figure out from where. She figured he was about thirteen, but his expression was too open for anyone from Ketterdam. His clothing was out of place too; it was the sort of practical, homespun clothing farmers wore. The sunlight fell across him in an odd way.

“How did you get in?” Nina repeated moving swiftly down the hallway towards him. “Did someone let you in?”

“You can see me?” the boy asked. He spoke with a heavy Southern Kerch accent.

“Of course, I can see you!” Nina snapped. “You’re not invisible! Are you a member of the Dregs? Do you need to see Kaz?”

“I’m not a member of the Dregs,” the boy said, with surprising force. “And I’m here because I’m always where he is.”

Nina finally reached him and paused. Now she could see what was so odd about the sunlight. It wasn’t hitting the boy at all, just passing straight through his body and hitting the floor. Actually, he was translucent, not quite so much that it was obvious from a distance, but now that she was up close, Nina could see the outline of the hall through him.

“You’re a ghost,” she said.

He grinned, it was a happy child’s smile. “And you can see me.”

Nina pursed her lips, weighing her options. Of course it had been a problem when she’d thought someone had broken in, but this wasn’t any better. Ghosts could have major negative impacts on the places they haunted, especially if they were the vengeful, malevolent sort. She didn’t know how she’d stayed in this house for a month without realizing it was haunted. She’d honed her powers in her time in Fjerda and Ravka and it had been a long time since she’d been in the presence of a spirit without knowing it, especially not one powerful enough to manifest a form and communicate with speech.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“What do you mean by ‘here?’” the ghost said. “I’ve been dead for fourteen years, but I’ve only been in this house on an off for a day or so.”

A day. They’d all convened here to prepare for the plan yesterday with the skeletons of dead Merchant Council members Nina had liberated from their tombs. She cursed under her breath. Stupid. She’d known that skeletons were the most likely to have ghosts attached to them of literally any object. She mustn’t have checked them thoroughly enough. Of course, this boy was too young to be the spirit of any of the merchers themselves, but she’d done her research beforehand and couple of them had been pretty despicable. It was very possible that this boy had been killed by one of them and the trauma had been too great to allow him to pass on even after the mercher died.

Nina took a deep breath and prepared herself. She hated performing exorcisms, especially on the ghosts of the unfairly dead. They always fought the hardest and she always felt guilty for forcing them on. She always tried to remind herself that eternity spent trapped in trauma of death was no kindness, but it didn’t always help.

“At least, I’ve been in this house on and off for a day or so, this time,” the ghost went on, oblivious to what Nina was preparing to do. “I’ve been here before, obviously. Of course, I wasn’t always fully here all the times--sometimes I just float along behind him barely aware--but I’ve definitely been here before.”

Horror surged through Nina’s stomach. For the kind of the thing the ghost was describing to happen he would have to be connected to a living person and following them around. Where had one of them picked up a ghost? Sure, they all lead violent lives but the level of violence and trauma necessary to create a ghost was something else entirely. Even if the ghost had just hooked onto them and abandoned another host that still had a lot of worrying implications about that person’s mental state. Most ghosts attached themselves to physical objects and survived off the remnants of their own trauma. Ghosts attached to the living fed off their own trauma and the pain of their host; that was why they were so powerful.

“Who are you haunting?” she asked. Demanded more like. In her experience, most ghosts weren’t reasonable, especially once you realized what they were. “And for how long?”

She expected a sudden switch into a snarling, angry, vengeful spirit, but the ghost looked confused and a little hurt. “You don’t know me?” he asked. “I’m Jordie Rietveld.”

The name was a little familiar, but Nina couldn’t place from where. “I don’t know that name,” she said.

“Figures; he never talks about me,” Jordie muttered. “I’m Kaz’s brother,” he went on. “I died fourteen years ago.”

“Holy shit,” Nina breathed. Now she knew why the name had sounded familiar. Rietveld was the fake surname they’d used for Colm Fahey during the auction scheme six years ago. Jordie was the name Kaz had accidently called Jesper during their fight. “Holy shit,” she repeated. There weren’t words for this. Kaz Brekker had always been an enigma, a self-styled demon, but this was something else. Never in all the years she had know Kaz had she even considered that he might be haunted by the undead spirit of his long-dead brother.

“Does he talk to you?” Nina asked.

“No,” Jordie said, sounded disappointed. “He never did.”

That answer didn’t surprise Nina. Kaz Brekker’s mythos was large, varied and built on a thousand seeds of truth. If even one person had ever seen him talk to someone that wasn’t there, Nina was sure there’d be stories about him having invisible familiars or some other nonsense.

“I’m not even ‘around’ most of the time anymore,” Jordie said putting “around” in air quotes, which was such a normal gesture for a living thirteen-year-old it threw Nina off. “I used to be able to hang around and watch everything he did, now I kind of float along most of the time not aware of much. I’m only fully conscious and can talk when he’s really upset or sad.” he paused then added, “Or when he’s thinking about how I died.” He looked up at her. “We were swindled by Pekka Rollins and then we both got firepox,” he told her with a morbid matter-of-factness that no living person could manage. “The body collectors thought we were both dead and threw us on the Reaper’s Barge. Only Kaz wasn’t dead. He swam back to the city using my body as a raft.”

“Oh my-” Nina pressed her fist to her mouth. She’d never put much thought into how Kaz Brekker had become the person he was. She’d always figured his childhood wasn’t pretty, but she figured it was more of the orphan abandoned on the streets of the Barrel to fend for themself variety. This was something completely different. It did explain his hatred of Pekka Rollins, for one thing, and why Jesper had said being carried by one of Nina’s reanimated corpses would set him off when Nina had first returned to Ketterdam.

It also, probably, explained the gloves. When she returned to Ketterdam it hadn’t taken Nina long to notice he didn’t wear them all the time anymore. One time when he’d come over to Jesper and Wylan’s for dinner, he’d taken the gloves off when he’d come in the front door and hadn’t put them on again until he’d been leaving. Even though she wasn’t any more attracted to him than she’d been at seventeen, Nina had found herself staring at those hands the entire time; they were so unexpected. He had very nice hands with long, delicate fingers; pianist’s hands, which was absurd for someone of his reputation. When he’d left Nina had asked Jesper what was up with the lack of gloves.

“He’s not wearing them so much anymore,” Jesper said. “He’s doing a lot better, actually. You can even touch him sometimes, though you should always ask first. If you don’t he’ll probably still stab you.”

“So you died, he had a horribly traumatic experience and you’ve been haunting him ever since,” Nina said, studying Jordie intently.

“I was pretty horrible to him for a long time,” Jordie admitted quietly. “I don’t know how to explain it. He was angry and hurting so I was angry and hurting too and the only person I could take it out on was him.”

As far as Nina had seen, ghosts who haunted living people were much, much rarer than folklore made them out to be, but what Jordie had just described was how such things worked. A ghost was not quite the person they had been in life, especially if they were latched onto another person. The living person’s soul was so much stronger than a ghost’s that they tended to override large parts of the ghost’s personality with their own feelings. These ghosts often began to manifest the person’s most powerful feelings, which never ended well given that violent, all-consuming grief was the only way to bond a living person and a ghost together.

It was actually interesting Jordie was as coherent as he was. If Nina hadn’t been able to literally see through him she could have been convinced he was a living person. She’d never met a ghost who had enough of a grasp on personhood to carry on a conversation this sophisticated. It was very odd.

There was a sound a shuffling inside the room, then footsteps and a cane tapping and the door opened revealing a slightly disheveled Kaz squinting against the light. “Nina?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing out here?” He stripped out of his boots, coat, vest and tie, and his pants and shirt were slightly rumpled; Nina wasn’t at all surprised to realize he slept in his clothes. He was leaning heavily on both his cane and the doorframe, and visibly trying to keep his weight off his bad leg. He was wearing his gloves, which Nina had learned in the last few months was always a bad sign.

“Did I wake you?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”

“No, its fine,” Kaz said. “I wasn’t really asleep. What do you need?”

“What so you can get her killed too?” Jordie asked. Something about his tone of voice had changed, become nastier. “Like you got Aart killed?”

Aart was the child Kees Van Dijk had killed to get Kaz attention mere days before. Inej had claimed Kaz felt guilty about it, and obviously she’d been right. The line of Kaz’s shoulders tightened, but other than that he showed no indication he heard anything. He didn’t even glance in Jordie’s direction. He was good. If Nina hadn’t known a ghost was talking to him she’d never have noticed his tension.

“You were really stupid not to notice he was gone,” Jordie said. “What’s the point in everything that happened to me if you’re just going to fail at looking after the children in your care? Didn’t I prove just how easy it is to muck that up?”

Something about Jordie’s aura had changed now that he was talking to Kaz. He didn’t quite seem thirteen anymore. He hadn’t aged visibly but he seemed older somehow, like he had more authority. It was probably another reaction to Kaz’s presence. Nina would have bet money that Kaz was the younger sibling.

“Kaz,” she said. His attention jerked back to her, though the change was so subtle Nina didn’t think she would have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking for it. “I can’t sleep either. Would you like to have tea with me?”

Jordie snorted derisively. Obviously he wasn’t doing quite so good a job at not being horrible to Kaz than he’d claimed. If this was better, Nina didn’t want to know what worse had been like. It was interesting that he’d managed to be so civil until Kaz got close, though.

“Tea?” Kaz repeated. It was obvious that he was having a hard time focusing on the mundaneness of her request with the ghost of his brother leering over his shoulder.

Jordie opened his mouth to say something else, but Nina had listened to enough. She felt bad for the boy she’d been talking to before, but if he was going to be like this she didn’t want him around. She moved her hand in a sharp gesture, shoving on Jordie with her powers and vanishing him into a limbo where he wouldn’t have any discernible consciousness. Kaz winced and swayed, gripping the door frame more tightly. He’d probably felt what she’d done in whatever tether connected him and Jordie and that hadn’t even been an exorcism. She wouldn’t dare attempt one of those without Kaz’s permission; if he didn’t have a chance to brace himself it would probably drive him insane.

“Yes, tea,” Nina said. “You look like you need it.”

Kaz sighed. “Fine.” It most likely helped that he didn’t know what she’d just done and had probably interpreted it as a headrush. He stepped aside to allow Nina into the room.

“Sit down,” Nina told him. “And where’s the bell for the maid?”

Kaz made his painful way across the room and sunk into one of the armchairs next to the currently empty fireplace. The fact that he hadn’t argued with her spoke volumes. He did however raise an eyebrow at her second comment. “Do I look like the kind of person who knows how to call a servant, Nina, dear?”

He had a point. Nina had always been awkward with servants too, until she’d had to get used to them while undercover with Hanne in her parents’ house. She poked around the room until she found the bell pull near the bed. The blankets of the bed were rumbled; it was obvious Kaz had been tossing and turning as long as she had.

Once the tea was ordered, Nina crossed the room and settled down in the other armchair. Kaz had propped his bad leg up on a footstool and was resting with his head thrown back and his eyes mostly closed. He was very pale and looked pinched around his mouth and eyes.

“Do you have any painkillers?” Nina asked.

Kaz opened his eyes, straightened a little and visibly tried to look more alert. “I’m fine,” he said.

Nina privately doubted it. His leg had given out when they’d been climbing the steps of the Church of Barter last night and he’d just been hearing his dead brother’s ghost. Jordie had said he was only conscious when Kaz was angry, upset or thinking about how Jordie had died. Nina was willing to bet he was little of all three right now. Kaz was not having a good day.

The maid arrived with the tea and they drank in silence for a while. Eventually Nina pushed one of the little scones towards Kaz. He eyed it with visible distaste. “You should eat something,” she said.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“You still should eat.”

He eyed her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you here, Nina?”

“What do you mean, why am I here?” Nina asked. “We’re having tea. That’s why I’m here.”

“No you’re fussing over me,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re bothering. I’m fine.”

“Really?” Nina asked. “Because I’m not convinced you could make it back to your bed right now.”

Kaz sighed, but didn’t try to get up and prove her wrong, which spoke volumes. “So you were just lying in bed and became so worried about me that you just had to come all the way over here to check on me?” he raised an eyebrow in a way that was meant to imply that this was ridiculous.

“I couldn’t sleep so I was going for a walk,” Nina said.

“And you decided to loiter outside my door until you got my attention?”

Now was the perfect time to tell him what she had seen. She couldn’t just ignore this. Bonds like the one Kaz and Jordie had were dangerous. The fact that Kaz was even as functional as he was pretty concrete evidence for the fact that while his physical health was obviously crashing his mental health was doing alright. Still, things couldn’t be allowed to continue on like this; if they did they could easily come crashing down at the worst possible moment.

“Did Inej tell you about how I can talk to ghosts?” she asked.

“She’s mentioned it a couple times,” Kaz said, obviously wondering how this had any bearing on their previous conversation.

“During my time in Fjerda and Ravka I realized that sometimes ghosts can attach themselves to people and haunt them the way they do in stories,” she said. “I can get rid of these kind of ghosts by performing what’s basically an exorcism, though without all the fancy religious stuff.”

“Very interesting,” Kaz said. He sounded like he was trying not to seem skeptical, but failing miserably.

Too late she remembered that Kaz wasn’t religious or spiritual by any stretch of the imagination. He probably only refrained from questioning her insistence in the existence of literal ghosts out of respect for her. Of course he wouldn’t think he was being haunted by the ghost of his dead brother. He probably thought Jordie was a figment of his imagination, a fiction his subconscious had invented to cope with trauma. That was probably part of the reason he was so functional; he knew not to listen too hard. The fact that absolutely nothing stopped him probably didn’t hurt either.

Now she not only needed to convince him that it was theoretically possible for ghosts to exist and haunt the living, she needed to convince him it was happening to him. She quailed at the thought. Kaz didn’t change his mind about anything very easily and she could only imagine that this would be worse. Maybe she should tell Inej about it first and enlist her help in convincing him.

“Is something wrong, Nina?” Kaz asked. “Why did you bring this up?”

She needed to tell him. She couldn’t tell him.

“Nothing,” she said. Coward. “Just musing. I just wanted to know what you thought of the whole thing.”

—

I had a better idea of how to end this but I’ve forgotten what it was...

#six of crows #soc fanfic #nina zenik #kaz brekker #jordie rietveld #mine #the ghost!jordie fic #fightingverse #tw psychological horror

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peachchai · 5 years

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The Sun is Setting - Week 1

A/N - Week 1 for @sdavid09 ‘s 52 week challenge. I’m not sure if I like the end. Oh well. Also, fun fact if I play my cards right Week 2 will be my 200th post.

Title - The Sun is Setting

Word Count - 1013

Pairing - Gabriel(Supernatural) x Reader

Warnings - Reader Death(nothing too gruesome), Angsty, Mentions of blood

Summary - The sun had set on their story, but there is always tomorrow where it rises again.

The sunset was always beautiful in her eyes. The way the colors all melded together and eventually let the night sky takeover with a different kind of splendor. Stars were beautiful in their own right, but sunsets were where it was at for her. Stars were there as she dug up a grave to put a ghost to rest. Sunsets were for soft kisses and gentle whispers, promises of a tomorrow they both knew would never come.

It was a something wet hitting her cheek the made her open her eyes. Open her eyes to reality. Was it her tear that hit her cheek? Or was it the person hovering over her? Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Her head had started to loll, or at least it would have if his hands hadn’t found their place on her cheeks. She tried to take stock of where she was, what she last did. One hand was resting on her middle. The other was pushing against her leg. Why was it sticky? Why was everyone crying?

It hit her then. Eyes glazing over again as tears gathered in her eyes once again. She was dying. A hunt gone wrong. The woman the vamps had taken had thought she was one of them. She couldn’t blame her. Fight or flight isn’t exactly a flawless system. The scared woman had taken the machete she had set down, she had tried to calm her down, and drove it into her leg. Her femoral artery to be specific. It was times like these that she wished she didn’t have an expansive knowledge of the human body. Then she could believe everything would be ok.

“(y/n)? Sweetie, can you hear me?” That voice. The voice that would tell stories of rambunctious adventures, that would whispers praises and love, that would calm the storm in her head after a nightmare. She blinked her eyes open to see tear filled hazel eyes. The corners of her lips curved up to form a small smile. “Isn’t there something you can do?” This was a different voice. Perhaps Dean? No, it was it must’ve been Sam’s? Wasn’t there a time when her hearing wasn’t so fuzzy?

“Sweetheart? Everything is going to be ok. It’ll all be over in a minute and we’ll all be heading home.” Home. Home sounded nice. But why should she be allowed to go home and be fine despite her injury when others weren’t as lucky as her. “No.” Was that her voice? It sounded broken hoarse and full of pain. It must be. No one else would object. “No?” It was a question, but they both knew it wasn’t. She wasn’t opposed to being healed when it was something small. It was just speeding up her basic human processes. But this was big. Not something you could just walk away from.

Gabriel tried to search her eyes for a sign that perhaps she would regret this choice. But he could see she wouldn’t. She was tired. Apocalypse after apocalypse. And even though she had tried to stop, the hunting life would always find her. He knew the answer. It was written in her tear filled eyes. Gabriel used his grace to relieve any pain she might be feeling. The Winchester brothers would be upset, he knew this. She was like their sister. But when they got back and went through her things they would find the letter she wrote in case of emergency. Expressing her wishes and explains her reasons. He could feel tears gathering more and more at his eyes. Gabriel couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. “Thank you,” A ghost of a whisper left her lips followed by a quiet, inhuman breath. Her last. His eyes closed and his head hung low. She was gone. He would never see her smile again or hear her sing her favorite songs. Never share another memory with her.

This wasn’t the alternate world. Where were the Winchesters, where was the alternate Micheal? Had he died? Where was he? Gabriel whipped his head around to try and figure out where he was. There seemed to be a path leading further into a forest. Besides that, there was nothing but trees. So, he followed the path. Soon he found another clearing, like the first he found himself in. There was a small table and a couple of chairs. Sitting in one was Amara. He hadn’t thought about her in a while. She motioned for him to sit in the chair next to her. “Gabriel. Welcome.”

Sunsets have always been beautiful. Full of hope and promise of a brighter tomorrow. Though they have been slightly dimmed since her departure from the living world. From Gabriel. She never made it to heaven. Amara interrupting her process of going to the land of angels. She had said something along the lines of that is the angels fell then heaven would follow shortly after. Then she might lose herself to the test of time and become a vengeful ghost. So she followed the powerful entity to her new resting place. Amara had told her it was world simply for her soul only.

The world had contained beautiful vistas that made it easy to see the sunset and with forest for miles. When it had first turned to autumn the forest seemed to light up in reds and yellows, the leaves making the sunset even more sparkling. On the cliff edge where she had first come to after following Amara is where she had found a charming cottage. Vines wound all around the walls, but never covered the windows. Birds sang songs the most melodic tunes and peaceful rivers twisted all around the forest.

But it always felt as if something, rather someone, was missing. Gabriel. Her love in life. The views dulled in comparison to living and laughing with him. So when she saw him step out of the forest, Amara in tow, she ran to him. Tears were in her eyes, and for the first time in a long while, the tears were happy.

Song Link

#Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge #week 1 #gabriel x reader #supernatural

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seokoloqy · 6 years

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anything but ghost hunting // myg (m)

pairing: yoongi x y/n

genre: ghost hunter!au but not ghost hunter!au, crack fic

word count: 2.9k

warnings: smut

↳summary: you’ve been teasing him all night and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna have to spend another second sleeping on the floor in some shitty house with the boys.

a/n: I wanted to do something like buzzfeed unsolved (I’m so excited for this new season) but it just became a mess enjoy I guess ~

—

“Why exactly did we agree to do this?” You hook your arm around Yoongi’s, trying to hold the bulky camcorder steady as you walk up the rough terrain to the infamous house. The rest of the boys—except Hoseok, who’s dragging his feet—are ahead of you, bounding up the hill eagerly with the rest of their equipment.

“I said we should stay home and eat the Halloween candy, but no,” he drawls, tilting his head back to look at the crescent moon hanging at its peak. “You wanted to come with them.”

He casts you a vengeful look for dragging him along on this goose chase—or should you say—ghost chase. He doesn’t want to spend his Saturday night exploring and sleeping in some decrepit house with a few creaky floorboards and trees that look like bony fingers, but your easily swayed heart was weakened at the sight of a pouting strawberry-haired Jungkook with his camera strap around his wrist and precious video camera in hand.

You convinced Yoongi to go with you because you could see the dark circles under Jungkook’s eyes, the late nights he spends editing and perfecting his Youtube videos have started affecting him. He worked so hard to keep his viewers happy and maintain a constant uploading schedule for them, always aiming to please and never giving himself a second to breathe. But, also, Yoongi was easily swayed by your pouting face as well.

Now seeing the large dilapidated manor in person rising over the hill, you’re beginning to regret your decision to join the adventure as you curl your self closer to Yoongi for protection against the harsh winds. Scarfing down a whole bag of Halloween candy until your sick doesn’t sound too bad right now, better than stepping foot into that nightmare of a building.

Your footsteps gradually slow down into a stop in front of the steps where the rest of the boys are standing on the worn out porch, inspecting the door and how to get in.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared all of a sudden,” Yoongi teases, nudging you closer to the house.

“Never,” your voice wavers, instinctively reaching for Yoongi’s arm again for comfort. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As long as you have Yoongi by your side as a sacrifice to any demon that sneaks up on you, you feel a bit safer in his arms.

It’s Yoongi who drags you up the steps of the house, each step creaks under both your weight. Jungkook has his camera pointed at the door as he explains to his viewers exactly what the plan is for tonight and the rest of the boys standby figuring out how to use the equipment they brought along. Namjoon is holding the spirit box, a device which Jungkook claims to be a way for ghosts to communicate through radio frequencies. When they tested it at the apartment and Hoseok thought he heard a ghost say ‘hello’ through the box, he swore their home was haunted. Yoongi argued there was no real definitive evidence that what Hoseok heard was actually a ghost saying hello and the spirit box was just a waste of money, but you couldn’t deny you thought it said hello too.

You peer through the window, holding up your flashlight at the house which looks as desolate and destroyed as the outside. A few prints of graffiti are painted across the grey walls, mostly nonsensical words, and vulgar drawings. There’s no furniture besides a lone couch in the middle of the living room surrounded by debris.

“It looks like a crack house,” Taehyung blurts, causing Jimin and Hoseok to burst into fits of giggles. Their laughter replaces the chirping crickets and ominous rustling leaves, causing the atmosphere to become lighter than before.

Seokjin wacks the three boys doubled over in laughter, scolding them for disrespecting the ghosts.

“Come on, guys let’s go already,” an impatient Jungkook tugged on the sleeve of Jimin’s jacket and drags him into the house. The rest of you follow behind closely, trying not to get separated so soon in the house.

The place smells just like it looks, old and shitty. You immediately grimace, gagging into your hand and pinching your nose to get rid of that god-awful stench.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you cough, burying your face into the hood of Yoongi’s sweater. The rest of the boys have a string of profanities to call out when the smell hits them.

“Why couldn’t we have gone to one of those five-star haunted hotels or something? At least they have beds.” Namjoon grumbles, rolling out his sleeping bag onto the floorboards. A flurry of dust and dead leaves kick up as it unravels.

“No,” Jungkook hisses, tired of all the complaining. “Let’s just split up so we get more footage.”

“Split up?” Hoseok gawks in the middle of laying down his sleeping bag, clearly unhappy with the idea of going off alone. “That’s how you get murdered in every movie.”

After debating back and forth, Jungkook convinces everyone that it will be easier to split up and look through the house in smaller groups. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung go off to explore the lowest level, while Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jimin are in charge of the second floor. You and Yoongi are assigned to explore the attic, arguably the worst place to have to investigate. You can imagine the number of cobwebs and dust that’s probably been sitting there for decades.

“I can’t believe you lost,” you grumble, following closely behind Yoongi as you ascend the staircase. The game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got what level of the house was played between him, Seokjin and Taehyung. When Taehyung won the first round and claimed the first floor, you prayed Yoongi would win the second round, but when he lost he seemed indifferent to the outcome. Simply turning to you and shrugging as Jimin cheered for his teammate's victory behind him.

“Don’t be so upset, there’s probably nothing in there anyway,” he dismisses, looking for the door that leads to the attic.

“Probably. There could be demons in the attic.”

He gives you a look, rolling his eyes and continues through the empty hall. He opens every door in the hall, finding a bathroom, two empty bedrooms and when you come to the last door at the end there’s a stairway that leads to darkness. You peer over his shoulder with your flashlight in hand, trying to see for yourself what is lying in wait at the top. It isn’t much you can see besides the ceiling, at least there are no bats. The camera clicks on in Yoongi’s hand as he aims it to the stairs, red light blinking in the darkness.

“Let’s go.” He sticks his hand out behind him, letting you grab onto it before going up the rickety stairs. With your hands intertwined together, you feel less worried about the prospects of being surprised by a ghost. Each step you take causes the stair to bend slightly under your weight.

At the top, you shine a light, sweeping across the room. It’s practically empty, except for the bundles of blankets piled in the corner of the room and trash carelessly tossed everywhere. You were right about the cobwebs and dust, it piled in every corner.

“See, nothing here,” Yoongi says, turning the camera on you.

“Yeah, nothing you can see,” you huff, pushing the camera in your face aside. You’re slightly glad there is nothing in the attic to jump out at you but mildly disappointed there isn’t anything remotely exciting either.

There isn’t much to do in the beside stand around and make jokes together. You can hear the other boys stomping around downstairs and occasionally yelping from something unexpected happening. After a few minutes of sitting around with nothing else to explore, you sit on the floor and pull your knees up to your chest, sighing, “I’m bored.”

“Let’s go home then,” he says, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head to protect himself from the cold nipping at his ears.

“No, we promised.”

As much as you’d prefer to go home than stay here in this disease ridden trap house, you don’t want to go back on your word and disappoint Jungkook.

“Can we at least sneak out and sleep in the car? It’s warmer in there.” He tugs the strings of his hoodie to cover his ears.

It’s true the car is warmer and a lot cozier than the house. There is no glass in here to protect the wind from blowing through the windows and not to mention the number of holes in the walls that add to the problem. The floors are cold as well, and hard will no doubt be on your back, it’d be impossible to get a good night sleep.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to pout, hoping you’d fall for it just like you did for Jungkook. That sly bastard has a way of getting anyone to fall for his innocent doe eyes, but Yoongi doesn’t have the same effect on you. You’re used to that look already, having seen it every time he asked for sex and you refused, but the look on his face gives you an idea.

“But I can keep you warm too,” you whisper, as you push yourself up off the floor and press yourself against Yoongi. You teasingly brush your hand against his crotch and he groans, giving you a glare mixed with want and irritation. You grab him through his jeans, feeling him instantly harden under your firm grasp. “Don’t you want that?”

Once his jaw slackens and you know he’s about to let out a breathy moan, you let go and toss your hair back like a teasing school girl and skip out of the attic, leaving him in the dirty attic with his dirty thoughts as you rejoin the group downstairs.

Jungkook has his video camera out and is recording the Ouija board set up on the floor with the rest sitting around it. They make room for you to join in the circle and Yoongi enters a few minutes afterward, hand hovering over his dick while he glares at you and joins as well. He has a pillow over his lap the rest of the night, refusing to get up and participate in the rest of the activities.

By 1 AM everyone tucks themselves into their respective sleeping bags, trying to fall asleep despite the cold and fear of a ghost sneaking up on them. You stuff yourself into sharing one with Yoongi who is still not happy with your earlier antics. He is turned towards you with a pout, and you ignore it, closing your eyes and trying to sleep.

“I’ve had a fucking boner for the past hour, Y/N,” he hisses in your ear and you dismiss him with a soft ‘mhm’.

You’re more focused on sleeping, despite the irritation growing in Yoongi’s voice. He can deal with it himself, you think, interested to see if he’d actually do it.

Jimin, whose bag is closest to yours, shifts to the other side to block out your conversation the best he can while holding in his giggles. He can hardly contain them, hiding it unsuccessfully behind his hands.

“What are you laughing about?” Seokjin lifts his head up, pushing up his sleeping mask to peer at the boy next to him.

“Nothing,” he coughs, choking back his laughter. He doesn’t want to expose Yoongi and his problem to everyone else. It seems like a personal matter.

“No way, you can’t not tell us!” This time it’s Taehyung sitting up in his sleeping bag, demanding answers.

For another 30 minutes, half of them begin bickering about Jimin’s dirty little secret and the other half beg them to shut up while you and Yoongi keep to yourselves. When they finally settle down and go back to bed, you try and fall asleep as well, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden floor.

The cozy sleeping bag doesn’t give you much room either. Every time you attempt to move, you’re brushing against Yoongi again and reminded of the problem you created earlier. Brushing up against him doesn’t help solve the problem either, only making it worse—prolonging his silent torture.

“Stop moving,” he grunts, trying his best to scoot himself away only to be trapped by the nylon prison.

“But I’m uncomfortable,” You whine, shuffling closer to him for body heat and purposefully pushing your ass against his cock.

“Then let’s go sleep in the car.” He says through gritted teeth.

It doesn’t take much convincing for you to agree. The padded seats sound much more inviting when you’re laying on hardwood floors and nearly hypothermic, but that’s only part of the reason you want to leave. You’ve been teasing him all night, and once you get to the car who knows what kind of exciting things Yoongi has been planning.

Yoongi unzips the bag and tosses the covers aside, eager to get you back to the car. None of the boys stir in their sleep as you both sneak out through the back.

“This is so much better,” you sigh, sinking into the back seat. Before you’re allowed to shut your eyes for some much-needed rest, Yoongi has your hair in his hands as he pulls you back up for a quick chat.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls in your ear, hastily unzipping his pants with one hand. “Do you see what you’ve done to me?”

You manage to nod despite the tight grip he has on your hair, mouth watering at the sight of his leaking cock sticking out of the waistband of his boxers. This is not how you pictured the night going. You expected stupid ghost stories and being scared by sudden loud noises, instead, you’re sitting in the car at 2 AM about to suck Yoongi off after being a tease the whole night. You can’t say you don’t like the way the night is turning out though.

“So,” he releases your hair, pulling himself out all the way and giving it a few light strokes. He looks at you through hooded eyes, lazily lolling his head to the side. “You gonna put that pretty mouth to work or what?”

The raspiness in his voice sends shutters through you and straight to your core, finally putting your hand on his length, gliding your thumb over the tip.

He releases your neck instantly and you bend over, lips lightly brushing over the head of his cock. And when he lets out a groan, you slowly take him into your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you go down on him. When you feel him hit the back of your throat, you take the rest of him in your hand, jerking the hand over him.

Hollowing your cheeks, you start off fast and Yoongi threads his fingers through your hair again to guide you up and down his length. He knows how much of him you can take and just how much is enough to have you choking around him. He pushes your head down until he’s hitting the back of your throat over and over.

You gag around him, choking as he goes in too deep.

“You’re so good,” he releases a guttural moan, throwing his head back against the headrest.

The sloppy sounds of your saliva and lips moving around him is so arousing to you, you moan around him as your panties begin to dampen.

The feeling of your moan wrapped around him, has Yoongi shuddering, nearing his climax faster than he anticipated and he bucks his hips into your mouth as you continue. When he finally comes, you swallow every drop of his release, savoring the taste of him. He pulls you off and takes your swollen lips into a heated kiss, tasting himself as your tongue sweeps along his bottom lip.

“Good job,” he praises, pulling away to look into your tired eyes.

You yawn, “Can I go to sleep now?”

He stares at you incredulously, “What? You’re still tired after that?”

You settle your head on his shoulder and cuddle into his side, beat from all your hard work. It’s 2 in the morning and all you really want now is sleep, not dick.

“Yes, now shut up please.”

As you settle comfortably in the steam covered car, sleep takes both of you easily and when the sun rises the next morning in early dawn there’s a tap on the window.

It’s the boys, sleep deprived and disheveled, with their things clutched in their arms. Yoongi doesn’t stir from his rest so you open the door for them, welcoming them back from the house of horrors.

“You guys snuck off in the middle of the night to sleep in the car while we had to sleep on the floor?” Seokjin grumbles, tossing his bag in the back before wrinkling his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, don’t tell me-” Namjoon starts, rubbing his temples. This is his car, and he really doesn’t want the thought of you and Yoongi stuck in his head every time he drives.

“You guys…” Hoseok gapes, taking a few steps backward to avoid the smell.

“So you guys snuck out in the middle of the night to fuck in the car?” Jungkook exclaims.

The boys all start making jokes about you both being horny teenagers and claiming how unfair it was that you didn’t sleep in the house with them as they pack their things up. Yoongi finally wakes up to argue back that they’re just upset because their backs hurt and they didn’t have any proof of ghosts existing. Jimin, however, says nothing and quietly smirks to himself. Yoongi clearly got exactly what he wanted last night.

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roleplaytimereturns · 5 years

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Geno's Hellish Domain/Chapter 13

A forsaken priestess named Livia wishes to join her god in the afterlife after being shunned from her home for her outlandish ideas. She hears voices into her head to reach an interdimensional altar, which will help her join her god in the afterlife. On her path to the altar, she comes across a universe hostile to her and her plans, Act 0's universe, as Act 0's kind knows what the altar is capable of. However, Livia had become incredibly powerful, due to the voices (which were actually vengeful, anarchic spirits able to grant Livia both power and her wish, in exchange for her to end the multiverse), and was able to send Act 0's world into chaos,

by summoning monstrous beings, two of which killed Geno's friends and gouged his eye out. After Livia left, Act 0 vowed to stop her plan in order to protect other Genos from a similar fate.

Chapter 13, Act XIII: Sic Semper Tyrannis

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Serpentine Tyrant

Species: Vampire Naga

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Scimitar

Abilities:

Flash Freeze

Vitality Draining

Enhanced Strength

Heliokinesis

Lunakinesis

Asteroeidískinesis

Levitation

Personality: A backstabber. He does everything for his own and his servants' sake. He has a harem of naga girls who serve under him, and one personal servant whom he loves the most. If he deems you a traitor to his kingdom, you shall be executed, and drained of your life force.

Chapter 13, Act XII: With Heart and Sorrow

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Armored Protector

Species: Florawoman

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Emerald Armor

Dual Knives/Rifle Spear (Pistol Bullet, Rifle Rounds, Shotgun Shells, Fuel Tank)

Abilities:

Agrokinesis

Sporakinesis

Prásinos-Pyrokinesis

Personality: A hero to everyone. She's willing to do anything for the greater good. If you are in her way, you will be terminated. Loves green. She's extremely dedicated to her work.

Chapter 13, Act XI: Victorious Flight

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Almighty Guardian

Species: Angel

Age: 250

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Heaven's Blade

Heaven's Rifle

Abilities:

Flight (Shatter Glass Wings)

Vitrikinesis

Catoptric Teleportation

Electrokinesis

Personality: He's the type if person with a god complex, and believes everyone should treat him as a higher being. His arrogance sometimes gets him in trouble, but he has the skills to save himself.

Chapter 13, Act X: Psycho Requiem

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Mutant Beast

Species: Mutant

Age: ???

Gender: ???

Sexuality: Asexual/Aromantic

Weapons & Tools:

Streetlight

Abilities:

Telekinesis

Explosive Touch

Pantomime

Body Hardening

Teleporting

Invisibility

Personality: Hostile to all other lifeforms besides alternate Genos. Doesn't have experience with human customs, and is very disrespectful. Despises his existence, and wishes to kill the person who made them.

Chapter 13, Act IX: Domino Effect

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Force Maestro

Species: Human

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Weapons & Tools:

Prosthetic Bionic Arm

Laser Blade/Rifle

Abilites:

Gyrokinesis

Enhanced Agility

Duplication

Personality: He's a guy to live to have fun, and not overthink things. He's an excellent fighter, but isn't very bright. He rarely think about what he's going to do next, but when he does, it's an excellent plan. He developed a finishing move called the One Million Uppercuts!

Chapter 13, Act VIII: The Grandest Maelstrom

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Chaos Incarnate

Species: ???

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Spiritcage

The Harvester

Nails

Abilities:

Shapeshifting

Anatomical Liberation/Body Dismemberment

Prehensile Tongue

Elasticity

Ferrokinesis

Personality: Impossible to completely trust unless you are one of a select few who Act VIII won't betray. No one knows anything about him, even his loved ones, except the fact that he dreams of being a well-known entertainer, and looks up to Act V for being part of a TV show.

Chapter 13, Act VII: The Meltdown

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Sinful Body

Species: Vampiric Half-Demon

Age: 370

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual/Gay

Weapons & Tools:

Crosses

Holy Water

Sacrificial Dagger

Abilities:

Extreme Regeneration

Enhanced Durability

Pyrokinesis

Psychíkinesis

Haemokinesis

Ostiokinesis

Necrokinesis

Personality: Being born from both a priest and a demon, he has conflicting views about himself. Bullying from others about his heritage affected his opinion of his father. He decided to work as a priest in honor of his mother, and has crosses embedded in his skin and bathes in holy water every night. He uses crosses as a limiter, but also as cosmetics, as he is very fashion-focused person, and values glamour almost as much as his loved ones. He also injected himself with vampire's blood to make himself weaker to his limiters, as he feels his full power is a danger to others.

Chapter 13, Act VI: Tears of Agony

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Torment's Champion

Species: Human

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Weapons & Tools:

Leather Whip

Nunchucks

Abilities:

Extreme Durability

Suffering Absorption/Empowering/Reflection/Manipulation

Personality: She's a strike first, ask questions later girl. She's somewhat masochistic, but cares endearingly for her friends. While she doesn't feel pain (unless she reaches her limit of suffering absorption), tears seems to flow from her eyes in place of pain. This seems to be caused by the night her mother died, where she first gained her powers.

Chapter 13, Act V: Silvertongued Puppets

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Marionette Master

Species: Phantom

Age: 99 (42 years as a human, 57 years as a ghost)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Two Marionette Cross Bars

Abilities:

Marrionetakinesis

Animation/Reanimation

Motor-Skill Manipulation

Personality: He's a quiet, chilling ghost who makes anyone near him. However, he's very emotional underneath his haunting exterior. He died during his job working on a kids' show about marionettes, when a robber broke in and he got shot trying to defend the cast of the show. This was during the production of a season finale, and his only regret in life was not being able to finish the episode.

Chapter 13, Act IV: Creative Annihilation

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Demolition Kid

Species: Human

Age: 12

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Weapons & Tools:

C-4

Dynamite

M32 Rotary Grenade Launcher

Grenades (Fragmentation, Concussive, Incendiary, High Explosive)

Abilities:

Explosion Immunity

Explosive Healing

Fragokinesis

Personality: He's a reckless, immature person who loves nothing more than explosives. He doesn't consider his actions often, and acts quick without thought. However, he can get serious when he sees another person in sorrow, and tries his hardest to comfort them.

Chapter 13, Act III: Turning Back The Clock

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Time Keeper

Species: Human

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Leather Gloves

Brass Knuckles

Abilities:

Time Manipulation

Personality: He's distant, calculated, and timid. He can find out over 15 different ways to kill you in 60 seconds. He's also quite paranoid, and has a hard time trusting others. When he first got his powers, in an arrogant display of his abilities, he trapped himself in time for weeks for him, but only for a second at midnight for others. He nearly died, and has since then become a nicer person to others.

Chapter 13, Act II: Arrival of Madness

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Lost Heart

Species: Human

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual/Aromantic

Weapons & Tools:

Bloody Hatchet

Lead Boots

Abilities:

Superhuman Speed

Heightened Senses

Personality: He's mentality unstable, and has become am outcast to society. He has no problem with killing someone, no matter the consequences. He's broken, and sometimes he can be brought back to his previous self if someone has the patience and care for it.

Chapter 13, Act I: One In The Chamber

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Ace's Eye

Species: Human

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools:

Dual Black Iron Pistols

Abilities:

Extreme Intuition

Dead-Eye Lock On (Aimbot)

Personality:

He's a snarky, ruthless sharpshooter who has no concept of mercy. He's not the smartest, but he's also not an idiot. He's seen and nearly expierienced death, so he knows what he's doing when he plans to kill someone.

Chapter 13, Act 0: Pure Sadism

Name: Geno Ex Machina, Cosmic Star

Species: Otherworlder/Archworlder

Age: 136

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Weapons & Tools

Archdagger

Halcyon Revolver

Cadet’s Yoyo

Spellbook Arsenal (Book of the Pyre, Book of the Sea, Book of the Forest, Book of the Mountain, Book of the Sky, Book of the Storm, Book of the Arctic, Book of the Heart, Book of the Voice, Book of the Mind, Book of the Dead, Book of the Galaxy, Book of the Holy, Book of the Lost, Book of the Insect, Book of the Pixies, Book of the Warrior, Book of the Beast, Book of Blood, Book of Time, Book of Reality, Burning Book Of Rage, Omega Book)

Abilities:

Levitation

Amalgamation

Power Fusion

Backside Tentacles

Enhanced Reflexes

Atomic Vision

Precognition

Petrification

Papryokinesis

Subspace Travel

Nova/Tachyon/Gem Physiology

Personality: He's a calm, collected, and lighthearted god-like being. He uses his power wisely, and is the strongest out of every Act Geno. However, he sometimes breaks out into a rather......sadistic rage when upset.

Chapter 13, Act α: Her Salvation

Chapter 13, Act β: His Revenge

Chapter 13, Act Δ: Their Fault

Chapter 13, Act Ω: Equilibria

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neospacenerds · 6 years

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Horror AU

I’ve been playing this horror VN and i’m just thinking about how the NEMI characters would fare in a typical horror scenario. Here are a couple of random ramblings about this. - I’m partial to the whole, group of teenagers go stay in a suspicious mansion and get trapped within sorta scenario. Probably they all were staying there on a school trip and get the good old, cliche, trapped by a storm, all contact to civilization gets cut off treatment.

-I also very much like scenario's that involved curses or vengeful spirits that were wronged so there’s always some sort of curse-breaking process that needs to happen to solve the scenario? It’s usually related to the place they’re in.

- I imagine it starting off like a supposed murder mystery where someone dies and everyone’s debating between the murderer being one of the group or an unknown extra individual. I can see Roman getting to go all Sherlock Holmes while everyone else gives him shit for it. - Roman is just going to upset everyone by flat out telling them that they’re all guilty till proven innocent and he’s the fucking authority on this shit because hello, actual genius?

- Little did he realize it was a spook.

- I see it starting off very umineko-esque, like the murder is committed in a way that would be impossible for a human and half the cast is like, okay but this is how it could have happened and the other half is like IT’S A FUCKING GHOST WE’RE DEAD.

- they’d probably do the whole cliche, everyone stay in the same room so we can all keep an eye on each other till we figure out who it is thing.

- until of course some problem with the mansion splits them up, like the power going out or something.

- There would definitely have been rumors about the mansion, some old story about a murder that most of the cast know.

- I can also see it being a really bloody murder, with like, the person being ripped apart from the inside or, having wounds that the evidence points to being self-inflicted, but there being absolutely no reason why they would’ve done that.

- The ghost would be the sort that preys on peoples weaknesses and appears in different forms, which is perfect because so much of the cast has personal problems it’d be great to fuck them up with that. Elvira would see her siblings, Roman would see his mother. Day would see Wolfgang and oh boy would that be a fun time.

- You know there’s sometimes that one character that just loses their fucking mind and tries killing everyone? I think that could totally be Day, especially if he’s getting supernatural Wolfgang hallucinations. It wouldn’t be too hard to imagine since he’d already he’d only be concerned with himself and Bianca I feel like he’d turn on the others the moment it becomes beneficial to him. - If we’re thinking about this as a VN with multiple endings, I feel like there’s definitely one ending where Bianca has no choice but to kill Day in order to save the others.

- I think Hudson, Roman and Elvira would have to form library squad because they’re prone to finding out all the facts before jumping to conclusions. I imagine them being like, okay theres a rumored underground tunnel system we can use to get out of here but we need the house blueprints from the library, so they end up going there and also finding out more information about the ghost.

- I also think that’s the prime spot to have a ghost chase where those three actually see the ghost in it’s real form for the first time and realize that OH BOI, THIS SUPERNATURAL SHIT IS REAL HUH???

- i’m also a sucker for pointless relationship drama and stressful situations causing people to flip the fuck out and beat the shit out of each other. I can imagine a couple of people just straight up throwing hands when things get stressful enough.

- Aoife and Roman would fight, Tavin and Roman would fight. Hudson might fight with some people because I feel like at a certain point, he’ll just be a neurotic, raving mess who just attacks anyone who annoys him.

- There’s that cliche of the couple that realize how much they love each other only because they’re stuck in a life-threatening scenario? I feel like there are plenty of possible couples but I really like Veritas and Adras in that role because of all the IC issues they have. I’d love for them to have like, their personal spooky encounter where they get trapped somewhere hiding from the ghost and it’s obvious that they’re going to die and they’re like, we’re in this together there’s no one else i’d rather be with. And then they die in each other’s embrace.

- i’m a fucking terrible person.

- Tavin and Aoife would die fighting back against the ghost together. Or maybe fighting back against Day when he goes fucking psycho. They’d probably put up a good fight but they’d probably die since, come on you can’t just fight a ghost mate. okay more thoughts tomorrow maybe.

#horrorAU

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elizabethrobertajones · 6 years

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As a Cas-girl, I am so tired of all the Cas-related alarmism. Anyone who's worried about his place in the show needs a refresher course on what things were like late S6 early S7. We are so far from that atmosphere right now it's not even funny, no matter how many parallels there may be to that period in the story itself. Like, come on guys, give Dabb the credit he deserves here. So thank you for your reasonable words on the subject.

Thanks, although I wish you didn’t have to say that in the first place >.>

I guess people get jumpy online and ideas spread like wildfire. One of the anons mentioned the comments section although they didn’t say where, “comments section” to me immediately conjures the worst of humanity. :P I assume in fandom contexts that’s where people voice their wildest thoughts and fears unfiltered… Though I know some people in tumblr fandom were pretty worked up about Cas because of all the anons we got after he died, and all the fears that he would be AU Cas or all sorts of things about not getting Cas back. I think people are just tuned to dread and expect the worst…

But yeah it feels like Dabb is trying for positive development so hard. I mean case in point we’d never get a grief counsellor episode if there wasn’t the thought that maybe it’s time to start working through their feelings towards a better end. And of course being a horror show soaked in tragedy a good way to get them really addressing and confronting their feelings is to kill off those closest to them because being a horror show they can come up with ways to bring back Cas or make it only look like Mary is lost. Things which make drama or physically hurt or incapacitate the characters don’t actually convey the writers’ feelings about them.

And I mean you can tell in season 6/7 the overall feeling was not pro-Cas just from the way it was written, and that the writers who did like Cas had to do what they could to send him off and memorialise him, whereas now we’ve been working on a Cas-rehabilitation from narrative neglect in season 10 (where he was only having a single off-season after 8 and 9 focused a lot on him and gave him powerful arcs) because he got more personal arcs and the “mention Cas in every episode” initiative began a shaky start. Season 12 was better than season 11, and ended up mirroring season 8′s structure for Cas/Destiel in some ways, which is considered one of the big Destiel seasons, and then in season 13 the writing has been absolutely lavishing Cas with attention and care.

I mean I can’t really tell people how to react but I feel like I’m fairly chill about the actual show, and all my histrionics are entirely me being OTT for comedy purposes… which, tbh, with the wide tumblr audience it’s kind of worrying that I think people don’t actually get when I’m being ridiculous for attention because who are you without some sort of nonsense people associate you with, and I’ve chosen the concept of Nonsense Itself… :P

I’ve had some enormous misunderstandings about things I’ve said about Cas from sensitive Cas fans who don’t understand that nothing I say is real and I’m basically emotionally blogging from a large claw-footed bubble bath with a glass of champagne in one hand and maybe some macaroons or something in the other… Obviously there are a whole bunch of candles around me… Anyway it’s weird getting vagueblogged at, recognising your post from the description, but seeing someone misinterpret your raucous joy as essentially betraying a massive Cas-hating conspiracy about how we’re squawking with delight about him being written out and killed off for good just to make Destiel canon - again, I don’t think this person actually TRUSTED the show to bring Cas back even though 99.99999999999% of hiatus we KNEW he was going to be back and fine and his normal self eventually. So my post probably looked like a tasteless vulture to them instead of utter glee knowing from the moment Cas exploded into white grace out of his eyes and mouth that we were getting this incredible development for him and Destiel in season 13.

So, idk. Every side of the fandom has its own weird hangups and feeling of injustice from the show. I try and save mine for being weary about them killing off characters like Charlie, Eileen, Kevin, Billie(!) etc and less about getting very protective of a favourite character. TFW each mean an ENORMOUS amount to me on a deep personal level, but as a meta blog I try to be as rational as I can while still harpy-screeching for comic effect about them, and actually pay attention to the writing. I can see a decided quality increase in recent years, especially in paying attention to that fans want good emotional arcs, less contrived or pointlessly dragged out bro drama and better communication, more Cas or at least Cas in a central role to prove he’s well and truly an indelible part of the story… Billie back… :P (KEVIN BACK!?! WHAAAAT). In NO way is the show perfect but I can give points for effort, and for utterly pandering to me when it comes to the TFW emotional arcs :P

And I have stopped watching the show out of boredom in early season 9 and been salvaged only by a strong start to season 11 where I had the show on very bitter thin ice after season 10. So I know what it’s like to not care or to feel the show is awful garbage, but because I knew I was hooked I gave it a CHANCE to get better, and it proved itself to me, and has been on an upward path ever since. I think that shaped my expectations and feelings about the show to make me this chill, that I went right through all those horrible feelings from the end of season 10, but decided to give it another go. But some people can’t extend that hand when they’re clinging to their favourite character or dynamic or whatever, and feeling the show is ruining the one thing they love. Sometimes bitterness and complaining is a way to process having to stop watching the show. Sometimes people cling on and become vengeful ghosts powered by fear or anger :P

I think the Cas side of fandom has a lot of these in particular who are loud and feeling justifiably hurt, who lost all love for the other characters through various things they did to Cas, and now only care about Cas at all, which is a bad place to be in when you don’t want to humour the narrative or to give the show a chance to explain itself. And the people who aren’t angry are perpetually scared something like season 6/7 will happen again and no matter what people say they just don’t trust anything, so they cling on waiting for the horrible news. I don’t think reassuring messages to anons really help all that much but I still take the time to do it in case it helps anyone who is maybe not as lost as the anon but still upset enough it catches their thoughts at the right time :/

#Asks #it's weird - I just don't remember watching season 7 even though I did #I remember like maybe 3 things from season 7 and 8 first watches :P #I just have no frame of reference for how it feels to even watch season 7 for the first time #and I didn't join fandom after season 6 when I came thiiiiiiiis close to doing so #so yeah #I am glad there are still people out there who remember #fandom problems

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gyakutengagotoku · 7 years

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How would various AA characters react to dying and being saved by Sissel?

Um, that's a lot of characters for "various", but I guess I'll go over the main cast.I imagine Phoenix's reaction would be much like Sissel's own when he first met Ray. He'd be weirded out and confused as to how he died, but rather easily accept it. He's seen enough of spirits popping in from the other world that anything weird like this is no longer a surprise.Maya would be ecstatic. Not only would this be the first time she gets to stay conscious when dealing with spirits, but she'd have lots of fun bouncing around. Unless she has those powers too, though, she may be disappointed she can't manipulate anything.Pearl would be very accepting of it, like it's a completely natural occurrence. She's been studying up on the spiritual realm, so a unique case like this would catch her interest. And she loves cats. ;)Trucy would be pretty surprised, since she's never really been involved with spirits, but hey, you learn something new everyday, right? She'd be a little disappointed to have died, but at least Sissel can help set things right. And she loves cats too. ;)At first, Apollo would be freaking out about how he's dead. But after the initial shock wears off, then he gets serious and tries to figure out what just happened. And hey, being dead isn't all bad. Maybe he can pay some dads or best friend of his a visit, if he can find them.Athena would be angry. How dare someone try to kill her! She's going to find someway to get back at that person with the power of the law and analytical psych... wait. Widget didn't come with her, aw. Anyway, She'd be rather perky for someone who just died. In fact, Sissel might get flashbacks to a certain other redhead he's had to save over and over.Thinking about it, I'm not sure how Apollo and Athena's powers would work if they're deceased. Clearly, ghosts can hear other people's voices, but whether they can hear their hearts or see their nervous tics is another story. Would they need their bodies to have that power, or would they bear them as spirits too?Unfortunately for Nick, his special power is contained to a magatama so unless he's near it at all times, like someone alive carries it for him, he won't be able to use it as a spirit.Anyway, back to the cast... prosecutor's side. Edgeworth would be slightly perturbed, but he would be able to remain calm nonetheless. It's not to say he would be "accepting" of it, since it's highly unnatural that this is happening at all, but for what it's worth, if he's become a spirit, so be it. He'd much rather figure out what led to his death and return to his body.Detective Gumshoe would be pretty upset that he's gone and died. There was so much he had left to do and explore, pal! It's unfair! But if Sissel can help him get his body back, then he's definitely someone to trust. Yeah, it's weird that he's a spirit with powers, but heck, Maya and Mr. Wright are always involved in some weird spirit shenanigans.Kay would also be upset, like what the heck! That's no way for the Great Yatagarasu to go! But bearing her pride, her badge, she swears to steal the truth and reveal it even from beyond the grave. And she'd also be rather perky about dying. Then again, there's no point in moping around, right?I can only imagine Franziska would be beside herself with shock and rage. Franziska von Karma, a murder victim? This cannot stand! For if she is to die, it will be by her own terms, not anyone else's. And she vows when she returns to her body to exact deserved punishment upon her killer by her own hand... and whip. So, hurry up and save her, Ghost!Godot would not give a single damn about dying. If anything, he'd be relieved. Now he can see Mia much more often. Save him? Ha...! Sometimes there are souls who simply aren't worth saving... but it wouldn't hurt finding out the truth so that he doesn't just leave without bringing someone else with him.I really can't see why or how Sebastian would be killed, but if so, I think he'd also be really upset. I mean, he's still so young and this happens? It's inconceivable! But is it true that ghosts can revive people? Well then, what are they waiting for? Say, this isn't gonna hurt, is it?Klavier would feel rather awkward about it, but he too can play it cool. Especially if Herr Sissel can help him. Even if he's ended his days as a rock star, he still has a very promising career as a prosecutor. We can't let that go to waste, ja?Ema would be pretty flustered - not so much about her death, though, but about spirits exisiting at all. Just how do these things even work!? What sort of scientific explanation would account for a radioactive meteor granting manipulative powers to ghosts? And even if Sissel tells her to relax and not to question it, she'd insist on questioning it because that's what science is all about. (It's unfortunate that she wouldn't have her Snackoos around, though. Now what is she supposed to munch on when she's stewing?)Blackquill... would also give no damns about death, as long as it was an honorable one. Of course, he's definitely not going to loiter if his murderer is out and about. He'll see to it that said person will regret ever crossing paths with him, or so help him, he will litter the ground with their blood himself. Yes, even from beyond the grave, somehow.Hmm... I have to think a bit with Nahyuta. On one hand, he would be accepting of it as part of the natural cycle of life and death, and he would have no qualms about letting his past go and moving on. That being said, he is still a prosecutor, and it is his duty to ensure that the one responsible for his death is punished as deserved... and dropped into the hellfires to be seared to their very souls for eternity....Long story short, if any of these prosecutors are dead, they can be some vengeful dicks. Except Sebastian, he's a sweetie.I could go on, but I think this list has covered plenty for now.

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screamingatanemptyroom · 7 years

Text

Story 100!!

Hey Everyone! This is my 100th short story on Tumblr! Hooray! Thanks to everyone who has read anything I’ve written, you guys are awesome!

This story is a continuation of several short stories. Many of my urban fantasy stories are set in the same world, and the main characters in fact know each other. It’s not necessary, but I recommend reading those short stories linked here to really appreciate what happens in this one.

First is Grace, a girl who works at a coffee shop and goes on a date with the son of the devil when Hell freezes over.

Second is Jennifer, a fairy cop who is working on a series of grisly murders by dark fae.

Third is Virginia, a werewolf doctor who faces a vengeful ghost on a plane.

Finally, a side story for Arcadeus, son of the devil, when he was a kid dealing with shared custody and visiting his father.

This was different from stuff I’ve done before. A lot harder to be honest. I really do like these characters and wanted to give them a chance to continue their story. I hope you guys like it!

Grace

It was a busy time at Witches Brew, the coffee shop where I worked. 3 am was our rush hour, when all the things that went bump in the night (at least the ones not getting drunk across the street) came in for a cup of coffee.

“You look delicious, human…are you on the menu?” The zombie customer was fairly articulate for one of his kind, and only partly rotten, but the breath…ugh. That wonderful combination of graveyard with a heavy dose of ethanol. I waved a hand in front of my face in hopes of improving the smell and shot back.

“I’m not a human, and you couldn’t afford me even if I was on the menu.” I pointed to the sign behind me, which listed the types of coffees and various prices. “You can order coffee, which is fresh brewed and awesome, by the way; or you can leave.”

The zombie’s eyes narrowed and it licked its lips with a swollen purple tongue. “You sure seem human.” He leaned forward to smell me.

I sighed and gave a shrug. I was only willing to put up with so much crap from customers in the name of good service. I held up a small handful of salt and blew it gently into his face. With a shriek of pain he clawed at his yellow eyes and ran out the door, cursing the entire way out.

“Have a nice night!” I called cheerfully after him, before returning to cleaning the counter, making sure to restock my emergency salt stash. I hadn’t been lying when I said I wasn’t human. I was the non-magical daughter of a genie and a human, which came with the perk of being part of an underground culture, with the unfortunate caveat that I was mortal and actually couldn’t perform magic. This left me with the sad necessity of being prepared in other ways to deal with the occasional drunken idiot that waltzed in here thinking I was a free snack.

“Grace, you jerk! Why don’t you ever call?!” The loud voice across the café turned a few heads, but despite the sarcastic tone I couldn’t prevent the grin from spreading across my face.

“That because SOME people are workaholics and live at the hospital 24-7.” I called back at her, getting started on her favorite coffee drink: a mocha-latte with a dash of hot sauce.

One of my best friends in the world, Virginia, was an ER doctor, and one of the most awesome people to walk on this planet. She waltzed up and leaned against the bar, motioning for me to hurry up.

“Come ON, girl, I seriously need the caffeine tonight.”

I took a closer look. Her normally tanned skin was paler than normal, and dark circles ringed her eyes. Even her scrubs seemed to hang a little looser than normal.

“Is everything ok? We’re not near a full moon or something are we?” I was only half joking. Virginia was a werewolf, even if her current ties to the pack were a bit tenuous.

She gave me a tired smile. “No, I just had the worst plane flight ever and followed it up with a double shift at the hospital. She sat in a nearby stool with a sigh.

“A terrible flight? Want to talk about it?”

She answered with a brief shake of her head. “Nope, gotta wait for Jennifer. She’s meeting us here and I’m not telling the same story twice.”

We didn’t have to wait long. Jennifer, the third part of our small group of friends from childhood, entered. She was obviously just getting off work as well, still in her suit with her wings tucked in.

I handed her a hot chocolate. “Catch any murderers today?”

“If only! I’m STILL filling out paperwork over the whole ‘partner going rogue’ incident.” She pouted a bit as she spoke, flicking the wand at her waist to summon a huge chocolate muffin. I ignored the blatant disregard for café rules regarding use of magic and eating outside food. It just wasn’t worth the fight. (Plus my boss was in the back buried in tax papers, and not likely to notice). In between serving customers we got the whole “bad flight” story out of Virginia.

“Wow,” Jennifer sipped at her hot chocolate, obviously thinking hard “We’ve had an increase in incidents with rogue ghosts lately. Did you report it to the police?”

Virginia shot her a look “Yes, Detective. I’m not an idiot. As soon as we landed I reported it to the SPF.”

“I tell you, things are getting weird lately.” I cleaned glasses while I spoke “Just last week you were complaining about the increase in Dark Fae attacks, before that it was werewolves going missing, and now there’s ghost attacks?”

“Yeah, the pack is still upset about losing so many members in such a short time.” Virginia moodily stirred her drink; “The alpha keeps bugging me about quitting my job and ‘seeing to the pack survival.’ “ She shuddered “Crawling naked over broken glass sounds more appealing.”

Jennifer patted her on the back “If they pressure you too much, let me know. I’ll make them regret it.”

“Thanks.” She raised her cup “To freedom and great friends.”

“To freedom!” We toasted with a laugh using our coffee cups.

A few more customers came in, some young girls whose horns and red eyes marked them out as demons. They ordered complex drinks and sighed loudly as they waited. I kept my eye rolls and sarcastic comments to myself, like the good barista I was.

“So Grace, you never told us how it went with Arcadeus meeting your parents!”

I groaned, not stopping in my work, handing the girls their drinks and finishing the transaction.

“I will need to be VERY drunk to tell you guys that whole debacle.” I sighed, counting out the change and dropping into the girl’s reddish tinged hand. “Let’s just say his father showed up, and watching the devil compete with my father the genie for half the night was not my idea of a great time. It started with plague rats and went downhill from there.”

“That sounds int…” Jennifer was interrupted by the demon girl I had just finished serving.

“YOU’RE the girl who snagged Arcadeus, son of the Devil?” She looked me up and down while she spoke, her tone suggesting she was not impressed.

“If by ‘snag’ you mean: he begged her for a date and his dad froze Hell over just to set them up, then yes.” Virginia spoke up, a low growl sounding in the back of her throat.

The girl snorted, “Can’t believe he’d sink so low.”

Jennifer started to stand, “Look here…”

I held up a hand, silencing her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.” The day I couldn’t handle my own fights was the day I was dead and buried. I calmly turned to the girl and answered,

“Yes, person I don’t know who is prying into my personal life, I am dating Arcadeus. We are very happy, and you whining about it won’t change that.” I waved cheerfully at her, “Enjoy your coffee.”

The demon glared at me, raising a hand and chanting a few words.

I let her tire herself out, and grinned at her. “A curse of blindness? Really? I expected better.” I shook my head slowly, pulling out a small vial from underneath my shirt.

“What is tha…ARRGH!” She ended on a shriek as I spritzed holy water on her face. She and her friend ran out, screaming curses as they left. I tucked the tiny spray bottle back into my clothing with a chuckle. The one benefit I get from my supernatural origins is a resistance to magical curses. A trait that has definitely come in handy since my new relationship started. Not that I was going to tell Arcadeus about these little incidents. It would just upset him.

Jennifer gave me a high five over the bar. “Not that I care what happens to those little twerps, but aren’t your worried your boss might be upset that you assaulted customers?”

From the room in the back we heard a gruff shout. “Not if they pay for their coffee first.”

With a laugh we settled into continue catching up through the rest of my shift.

After I got off work, I was walking back to my bike parked in the back, when I came face to face with a pale young man standing in the alley. He was slim, his pale dark hair hanging in his face. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.

This didn’t look good. I started to back away.

“Don’t worry, I’m a cop.” He held up a badge. Crap, it was Jennifer’s rogue partner, Alex. I backed away faster, turning around to run when everything went dark.

Virginia

As I left the coffee shop, I let out a huge yawn. Man, taking a 24 hour shift right after that flight had been a terrible idea. I checked my cell phone, noting multiple missed calls from Jeffrey, the Alpha of my pack. I deleted the voice mails without listening to them, ignoring the instinct to cater to his every whim. I had made my position very clear last time I spoke with him. I loved my job, I didn’t love him, and neither of those statements added up to me becoming a stay at home wife/mate for him.

Wrapped up in my own problems, I almost missed the scent of distress in the air. In the corner of my eye I saw a young, thin man pick up an unconscious Grace, hefting her onto his shoulder.

“Wait, STOP!” I yelled out, but it was too late. With a triumphant grin in my direction, the young man activated some sort of device in his hand and disappeared. I ran to the spot where he had been just a moment before. There were spots of blood on the asphault. Grace’s blood. I felt my claws and teeth lengthen as anger took over. The urge to kill and tear was overwhelming.

“Virginia, what’s going on?” Jennifer had heard me yelling and was coming over to help, her wand drawn and ready for action.

“HE TOOK GRACE.” I could barely get the words out past my fangs.

Once Jennifer had gotten all the details from me, she cursed. “That must have been Alex, my old partner. I should have known he’d try some crap like this.” She waved her wand, a small golden crochet hook, snagging a motorcycle out of thin air.

“I’m coming with you!” I started towards the bike too, but was stopped by her hand in the air.

“No, sorry, but you’re not a cop, you’re exhausted and you’re not thinking straight. Frankly, you would only get in my way like this.”

With an apologetic smile, she took off, the engine roaring as she turned the corner and went out of sight.

“Screw that.” I was not letting my two friends be in danger without trying to help. Besides, what if one of them got hurt? Having a doctor there might make a difference. There was no way in Hell I was staying out of this.

Wait.

Speaking of Hell...

I wasn't adept at magic, but I knew the basics. Chanting under my breath and with a few passes of my hands I performed a basic communication spell.

"Virginia! I'm so happy to see you!" A puff of red smoke blew around her as Arcadeus stepped out. The smell of sulfur was strong in the air, causing me to sneeze.

"Oh crap, the sulfur, that's embarrassing!" He waved his hands futilely, trying to disperse it. "That's the problem with working in Hell, the smell tends to linger." He blushed as he spoke, looking mortified.

"It's ok, don't worry about it." We had bigger issues, anyways.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, Virginia, but why did you call? Is Grace around?" Even mentioning her name was enough to brighten his whole face, and he looked around as if trying to catch sight of her.

I sighed; this wasn't going to be pretty.

I have had plenty of practice giving bad news over the years. It came along with the whole doctor thing. I usually had a pretty good idea how people would respond. Arcadeus seemed pretty quiet and sensitive, I was pretty sure this might overwhelm him. As I explained the situation I kept a close eye out for sign of distress, ready to provide support as needed.

I shouldn't have worried.

His face didn't change at all; you would have thought I had told him about the weather, except for the eyes. His eyes blazed a fiery red, and the air around him seemed to boil. I felt the pressure of his power pushing against me, and fought the urge to shrink back. He caught my gaze and held it.

"Where?" He was still soft spoken, but the single word sent chills down my spine.

"Jennifer was tracking them on her bike, she went that way." I pointed as I spoke.

His eyes closed and he whispered a quiet incantation to himself, a language I quickly recognized as the dialect of Hell. A moment later he opened them, his face still calm, but terrifying.

"A lesser demon has spotted them on the south side of town. I can teleport us there if you want to come along?" He held out his hand. The rage in his gaze had lessened somewhat. I could see his concern for Grace shining through. I took his hand without hesitation.

"Let's go."

The world around us shimmered and faded, and soon became what appeared to be a large abandoned warehouse. Well, not quite so abandoned.

We were surrounded by a group of dark fae, creatures of every shape and size. Everywhere I turned there were fangs, claws, and the distinct black gaze that marked their kind.

I let my claws grow out, nervously shifting closer to Arcadeus. To my shock he chuckled grimly.

"When I tell you, break through and run."

His voice was pitched low enough to carry to my ears only. He drew himself up to his full height, pushing his white hair back to emphasize his horns.

" I am Arcadeus, son of Satan." I could barely recognize his voice through the freezing chill that coated it.

"You have made the grave error of kidnapping the woman I love."

I let out a quiet "Aww" but he shushed me and continued.

" I will give you one chance to escape painful demise: tell me where she is, and I will let you live." His quiet ultimatum was met with derisive laughter.

"She screams quite beautifully, I think we'll keep her."

The silence was heavy.

"Wrong answer." He tapped my shoulder in a silent sign to run. As I moved forward, the enemies in front of me disintegrated into flames. I passed through the open door, moving deeper into the building. Behind me I heard screams of agony and a roar of hellfire, but I ignored it and kept moving.

I had friends to find.

Jennifer

I knew where to go. I had been researching into the dark fae since my partner tried to kill me. There had been 3 or 4 possible places I had narrowed it down to during my last shift, and only one was in this part of town. I rode towards an abandoned warehouse, my summoned motorcycle roaring beneath me. My mind raced as I traveled. Why had they taken Grace? It had to be a trap.

But what could they possibly gain by luring me out?

I peered in through the ground floor windows. Hundreds of dark fae stood guard.

Well, crap. I wasn't getting in or out that way. I looked up, spotting a window several stories above me. With a quick flick of my wand I summoned a grappling hook. When that didn't work (I didn't actually know how to use a grappling hook), I came to my senses, cast a quick glamour and flew up to the window through the cracked, dirty glass I could see Grace bound to a chair. Fortunately it was unlocked. I entered the room quietly, keeping my invisibility glamour up.

Grace looked up at my approach, her natural resistance to magic allowed her to see past my spell.

"You idiot, what are you doing?! This couldn't be any more obvious of a trap if they had taped a big sign to the door saying 'Trap! Idiots welcome!'" She glared at me, a bruise marring the right side of her face.

"I'm saving your butt, you ungrateful little turd! Now shut up and let's get you free."

I looked at her bonds. Dark bands of magic wrapped around her, holding her to the chair and her wrists together behind her.

"Actually..." whatever Grace had been about to say was interrupted by a dark voice that sent chills down my spine. A voice that was all too familiar.

“Jennifer, darling, I’m so glad you could make it to our little party.”

I looked up into black, soulless eyes framed in a sweet face with dark hair. A face I had stared up into from my crib. A woman who, up until the time she tried to kill me, had been my entire world.

“Mother.” I spat the word out like a curse. She inclined her head slightly as if acknowledging the title. “What do you want?”

“Now, now, darling, no need to be so crass. I just need a teensy tiny little thing from you, and I will let you and your human friend here go.”

I took a step closer, brandishing my wand. “That doesn’t sound like much fun. How about I arrest you instead?” I edged closer. “That sounds much better.”

“Don’t take another step.” Another familiar voice, another remembered betrayal. My former partner, Alex, now a vampire, held a knife to Grace’s throat. She kept her face calm and her head still, but she was slowly mouthing at me “don’t listen to them.” He noticed the slight movement and pressed the blade in, breaking the skin slightly.

“Drop your wand.” I hesitated, but only for a moment. I couldn’t risk Grace’s life. I dropped my wand.

“Good girl.” My mother laughed bitterly and kicked the wand away. She put a hand to my throat, and I felt a prick of a needle against my neck. I struggled but she was stronger and held me still. “Don’t move, sweetie. I just need a bit of blood from your jugular, but if I don’t aim right even this little needle could cause some serious damage.”

I held still, hearing but not registering a commotion at the other side of the room. All my focus was on my mother. “Why?”

She smiled at me, withdrawing the needle now attached to a vial full of blood. “You were a bit unexpected dear. You were born between two worlds, to both light and dark fae, not that your father knew that at the time.” She smiled, “You may have noticed a slight increase in our activities lately. I have found the key to expanding our kingdom far beyond the ancient restrictions. All I need is to get rid of some pesky weaknesses natural to our kind and the world will be ours on a platter.” She held up the container with my blood. “This holds the key to making the dark fae indestructible. So thank you, dear.” With a sad sigh she pulled out a large knife. “Now that I have what I need, I’m afraid your friend will have to die. She’s only a liability.” She waved a hand in my direction, freezing me in place. “Not you though, if that’s any comfort. I may still need more blood from you.” She turned to face the chair where Grace was tied, only to be met with a fist to the face.

“That’s for kidnapping me and tying me up.” Grace punched her again, the silver knuckles she wore glinting on her fist as it made contact with my mother’s face. “And THAT’s for sticking Jennifer with a needle!” The dark fairy went down and Grace rushed to my side.

I was confused, “How did you…”

“I’m immune to magic, remember? The bonds couldn’t hold me. All I had to due was knock out creepy dude over there…” She jerked a thumb in the direction of my former partner, now unconscious on the ground. “So I could give your messed up mom a lesson in manners.” Cracking her knuckles, she grinned. “Impressed?”

I was, but wouldn’t tell her that. “I’ll throw you a parade later.” I picked up the vial of blood from my mother’s hand and smashed it on the ground. I then turned to handcuff Alex, that vampiric little rat.

“We better get you back before Virginia dies of worry. We’ll have to figure out a way to sneak out, the entrance is blocked by at least a hundred dark fae.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here to save the day!” As if on cue, Virginia strolled in the door, claws out and ready to fight. She must have been in a few fights already; there were bloodstains on her scrubs and around her hands. She saw that we were both standing free and dropped her head dejectedly. “Dangit! I’m too late aren’t I?”

Grace went over and patted her back. “It’s ok, you can help us figure out how to escape, since the front door is blocked.”

“It’s not blocked.” Arcadeus walked in, looking tired but unharmed. “Are you okay?” He rushed to Grace’s side, gently touching the bruised side of her face.

“I’m fine, what are you doing here?” Grace hugged him tightly, and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, wincing a bit at the pressure on her lip.

“Trying to be helpful. Obviously not doing such a great job.” He grimaced and looked around. “Is the vampire the one who hit you?” His eyes glowed red and he started forward, only to be stopped by a soft hand to his chest.

“It wasn’t him, it was someone else, and don’t worry, I’ve already punched them back.”

“Where are they?”

I pointed behind me, “She’s right over… oh crap.” There was only empty space where my mother had been. She had escaped. I got a firmer grasp on my former partner. I was going to bring this one in if it killed me. “We need to get out of here.” I turned back to Arcadeus. “What did you mean the front door isn’t blocked? There was a bunch of guys there!”

I swear he blushed. “I took care of it.”

Virginia chimed in “Yeah, he was seriously awesome back there. Even I was scared!”

Grace just smiled and gave Arcadeus another hug.

We went out through the now empty front room, and headed for the SPF station. Once I talked my boss off the ledge, assuring him I wasn’t turning into a vigilante, and public property damage had been minimal we booked Alex, got debriefed and finally got our bumps, scratches and in my case, puncture marks patched up by Virginia. By the time we walked out of the station, it was late afternoon.

Grace stretched and yawned. “I better get some sleep. I have to be at work soon.”

Virginia nodded, stifling a yawn herself. “Ditto.” She looked around. “Let’s get together again later this week. You know, catch up, minus the kidnapping and dark fae conspiracies.” She patted Arcadeus on the back, and gave him a wink, “You’re invited too of course.” He turned red and stammered a thanks, causing us all to laugh as we headed out in different directions.

I was left alone to my thoughts.

I had not seen my mother since she tried to kill me years before. To be confronted with her so suddenly after all these years was...upsetting, to put it mildly. I thought of her words, that I was born of both worlds, light and dark, and shuddered.

My mother was still out there.

I would find her. I would end this.

#writing #writing prompt #short story #fantasy #werewolf #fairy #demons #continued story #sorry this was so long

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