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absolutekillswitch · 4 months

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no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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blues-valentine · 2 months

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Dune Spoilers:

I like the Dune book series - it’s one of the first sci fic books I ever read and we all know they're the blueprint. And Deni's movies are a visual masterpiece. With that being said, I have some issues with the movies because of their use of Arab culture to build their world while most of their cast and staff isn’t even middle eastern. But I don’t feel I have the authority to talk about it so I’ll refer to some posts. (x x x)

But with a lot of criticism I disagree with the takes about the movie showing us a "white savior trope" and I don’t want to yell that media literacy is death when it comes to analyzing entertainment but yes because Paul Atreides is being portrayed as a cautionary tale since the very first introduction to Dune in the movies. Chani starts the movie explaining Arraki’s story about being invaded and under the ex rule of an imperial house and asks the following question: “Who’ll our next oppressors be?” while cutting directly to Paul and starting his journey. Paul isn’t being shown as the white savior that will free the Fremen from the imperial rule and get them the paradise they see in the prophecy. He quickly becomes a power hungry leader with a god complex and I think Dune: Part Two heavily showcases this transition. Paul spends a lot of time denying what he could be and when he has the ability to see he can win and rule the world - his greed takes over.

Paul’s ascent to power in the 3rd act isn’t even being portrayed as a good thing — it’s supposed to be dark and full of warnings about the tyrant he’ll become. It’s there in his scary speech and Chani’s face. Both Paul and Jessica are being shown as manipulative people that are leading the Fremen into false hopes and religious fanaticism. Paul knew from the very start that the Bere Gesserit were planting ideas on the Fremen about him being the one - and he knew he needed to convince the remaining doubtful people of the prophecy if he wanted them on his side for his revenge. He was using the Fremen for his vengeance agaisnt the emperor. And he might’ve fallen in love with Chani and genuinely believe his place is at Arrakis' but he quickly transforms into the Messiah that plays into people’s false worship. He knows the easiest way to control the Fremen is by playing into the prophecy.

Paul’s Atraides isn’t about a hero’s journey but mostly the journey of an anti hero. We are not supposed to think he is the good guy. In the books there’s this important quote from Frank Herbert’s himself: “No more terrible disaster could befall your people than for them to fall into the hands of a hero.” because Paul isn’t there to save them from colonialism just replacing their old oppressors (Harkonnen) with him.

And I was pleasantly surprised with the changes in Chani’s character by her having more agency by being a freedom fighter and the only one seeing the wrongs in the increasing fanaticism towards Paul and the dangers this means for her people instead of playing the passive girlfriend that sticks by his side despite him becoming everything he swore won't be like in the books. And I really hope they change some parts of her arc in the last movie and she goes against him. Or at the very least have her still present a strong opposition to his world view. It would turn their relationship more interesting than her spending 12 years as his concubine wanting to bear him children and dying for it. I think Denis seems to be planning a better way to portray the women in the last movie and I can't wait to see what he does with them.

I just feel like people will get to Dune: Messiah and be so confused as if Paul going into a dark path and becoming Arraki's next oppressor wasn't pretty much there all along.

#dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune movie #text post #chani kynes #paul atreides

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eternaldarknessstuff · 4 months

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Did episode 3 of the PJO change a lot of things? Yes. Do I really enjoy the direction it took though? Also yes.

This is really just a brain dump post episode, and it does have spoilers for later on in the books!

I think a theme that the show is really playing into in a way that the books didn’t as much is choice. Percy chose Annabeth despite not really having a reason to. Annabeth chose not to take the easy way out and protect Percy. Percy chose not to take the easy way out and protect Grover and Annabeth.

But despite all this, there’s also a lack of choice. I can’t remember annabeths exact words, but in the woods she tells Percy that they have no choice. They were born demigods, they have to do what they are told.

And Percy refuses to be put in that box. He is angry and scared but he makes the decision to stick with his friends, to save his mom, ultimately to save Olympus.

And now I’m thinking about his decision to give Luke the dagger in the end. And how Percy’s fatal flaw is loyalty. He is always going to chose his friends, always going to chose to help people. And so is Annabeth and so is Grover. All three of them are choosing to be kind, to do good, to help people.

And the theme of choice too with everything else. Of these children being trapped in this impossible situation where time and time again absent neglectful (sometimes outright abusive — Clarisse flinching away from Ares) parents are forcing their children to go on quests for them.

And also the fact that the gods need their kids! Their kids don’t really need the gods. But the gods need their kids. We see this with Mr. D asking for wine. The gods are so limited in their power, and they need their kids to do much of anything.

Also the idea of fate being so heavy in the books. With the oracle and prophecy’s that are guaranteed to happen and characters who can see into the future, choice isn’t something to be taken for granted.

This also I think feeds into Luke and Percy being perfect foils for each other. Both are angry at the gods. Both feel slighted by their fathers, both have a mother who they love and loves them who was hurt by their fathers. Percy so easily could have fallen down Luke’s path, if the situation had been just a bit different. If sally had wound up making endless blue cookies in a little house all by herself without much rational thought left, and it was Poseidon’s fault, Percy would absolutely have waged war. It’s chance as much as choice and fate that’s guiding these kids.

As Medusa said, “We are not our parents until we chose to be.”

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #i could write an essay on this #multiple essays #percy jackson

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onomatopagu-et-cie · 11 months

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HAPPY 19TH DGM ANNIVERSARY & some other notes on DGM!

I'm a little late but HAPPY 19TH DGM ANNIVERSARY!!!! Time flies fast and this series accompanied my thoughts and heart for almost two decades now!

This first preface will stay a long time in my thoughts. Thank you for letting us join in on your wonderful journey, Hoshino ⋆｡°✩

I recently listened again to Blue Moon sung by Ella Fitzgerald and ... it's giving me Mana, Allen and Neah (or the whole cast haha) feelings ;;

I had some other notes I wanted to share since the previous post, so here it goes!

(SPOILERS UP TO CH247!!!!)

▶ Innocence & Akuma and Timcampy Innocence is attracted by Akuma, as though they once formed a whole together:

(the imagery here haunts me, especially with a heart in the background and the cross in the middle!!)

-> the story insists on informing us Innocence and Akuma balance each other and hold equal power over each other -> at the Asian branch, Allen’s Innocence reactivates only once he saw an Akuma ; the 3rd generations arm and Allen’s Innocence activated on their own when they were close -> the Innocence takes the shape of a bust deprived of head, arms and legs, but it has wings (and the recent chapters mainly represent Innocence with wings eg. Mugen, Apocryphos and Allen) ; the Akuma egg is a head in itself -> the Innocence’s mark on the exorcists looks like a cross but also the stigma on the Noah’s forehead -> both evolve in the same fashion. However, Akuma seem to me visually more ‘complete’ than the Innocence (eg. in Phantom G ark, even the children, the Prioress and Emilia thought a Level 4 was an angel): some are seen with more defined human features, wings, halo, tail, horns altogether. It’s curious how Level 4 Akuma (and Alma also) are designed with a halo, which is generally a symbol of holiness in art.

-> Skull use what looks like ladybug to create their barriers (which can prevent anyone except Akuma from entering, nullify Allen’s left eye power and his ability to summon the Ark).

In some cultures and languages, ladybugs are often seen as a good-luck charm and are linked to heaven and God. For example, in french, we call them ‘bêtes à bon Dieu’ (something like God’s creature) since the Middle Age. Its name can even be associated with the Virgin Mary (ladybug/bird or in german, Marienkäfer means Mary’s beetle). In japanese, the word for ladybug is 天道虫, ‘tentou-mushi’ which literally means 'Heaven Path bug'. It can also be written with the kanji for 'red' and 'girl' respectively, 紅娘.

Now, this is a wild reach which might lead nowhere (surely like the others 8D), but the Crows are the only ones described by their red silhouettes (you would expect their costumes to be jet black, by their title) and the two red dots on their forehead. There are also many black ladybug species with two red spots on their wings eg. the twice-stabbed lady beetle.

-> Just another wild speculation but if the song heard when the Dark Boots crystallized itself around Lenalee was the lullaby (the only song mentioned in the story along with Lala’s and Maria’s), what to make of it?

While the Innocence only affected non-exorcists (supposedly because its will is overwhelming to them, according to Bookman), Level 4 Akuma seem to have the same head-crushing cry and it incapacitates exorcists, to the point that they struggle to synchronize.

Only the dead like Maria seems to remain unaffected. However, in ch147, Link was still able to move to save Allen from the collapse.

-> The only instances Akuma and Innocence use each other’s attributes are Akuma 4 (wings) and Fallen Ones’ (halo) designs.

-> The Earl is determined to keep the Akuma’s true nature hidden from the Heart, because there’s something in there it could use as an advantage. It suggests something could directly be done by the Heart if it knew that piece of information eg. control both Innocence and Akuma or turn Akuma into Innocence or vice versa? Idek anymore haha

-> Timcampy is the only character to have both the Innocence and the Akuma/Earl attributes, wings and horns. And we also had THIS cover (the second picture, I never saw it colored before I re-read DGM and idk if this was established it was Timcampy):

Not to mention Timcampy’s weird deus ex machina entrance to motivate Allen again in ch53 (when he was giving up on saving Suman)?

▶ The Chang, Akuma, Skulls and Link A detail I forgot to mention in the first post was that Link’s tattoo, as expected, share the same motif with the ones inked on the Chang to link them to Fō as it’s shown in volume 21. Similar tattoos were on Alma’s arms and belly since that magic was also used on him.

Level 4 Akuma and Skulls also share the same marks?????

Fô’s head ‘accessory’ looks like the Akuma egg’s design:

Skulls (the katakana highlighted in green on the screenshots), like the Chang family, are also sorcerers. The manga introduces them in japanese with the title 守化縷 (the kanji highlighted in yellow on the screenshots), which literally can be translated as ‘guard(ian) of the thread’.

Now what's a synonym of thread?

… It’s Link!!!! The coincidence goes even further with Link’s last name, Howard. According to wikipedia’s entry:

????????? I don’t know what to make of this, but this sure isn’t pure coincidence. This and the way Apocryphos and Lavi called Link ‘watchdog’ as well as Kanda ‘Luberrier’s dog’ insists on his role as a guard. But whose? Allen’s? Luberrier’s? Somebody/thing else?

-> According to his profile in volume 20, Edgar Chang Martin, part of a secondary Chang branch, was related to a great sorcerer involved with the Order. The sorcerer was german. Link is also german (like Kiredori, Tewaku, Goushi, Madarao and Tokusa), I don’t believe we have other german profiles in the story nor blondes like him, Bak’s father and Bak himself (oh, and I forgot ofc our girl Miranda!!). Link could be related to that great german sorcerer and thus be an heir of Atuuda, unbeknownst to Zuu (but I wonder how that would be groundbreaking for the story?)

-> the spells the Chang use could be related to/even originate from the Skull’s (given how the manga hints at how ancient Skull’s sorcery is). The operation to bestow the power to cast magic to the Crows could be similar to how the Skull tinkered with the scientists’ head in volume 15.

-> heck, dude could even be linked to Timcampy, they’re both gold (I’m half-joking at this point idek anymore 8D) and Timcampy uses the same sanskrit-inspired magic as the Skulls (eg. when Tim destroys the barrier to save Allen during his battle against Alma and Kanda). Hoshino also emphasizes the importance of the gold color in the manga (the Noah’s eyes, Timcampy, Allen getting hungry over this color, the Campbell mansion’s landscape, …) just as the silver/gray color, so there might be something? Also, Cornelia’s wood can destroy Timcampy. Cornelia derivates from the latin cornix, which means crow…………… Please e x p l a i n

Also, what is this ‘thread’ the Skulls have the duty to protect? Their main duty is to protect the Akuma egg?

Now three things will keep bothering me until we get answers in the manga:

2) These pages following each other (and the last two are literally back to back, it’s more visible when you read the physical copy + it’s Link’s right hand and Allen’s left):

(Of course I know Atuuda acted up once Link subconsciously shook when he thought of Apocryphos and this is a smooth way to have a transition to Neah’s pov, but the panelling is still interesting here)

3) What Zuu really meant to say to Link before he was interrupted by Luberrier (and I don’t think it was the whole ’becoming the 14th’s ally’ because Luberrier was clear on that in front of Link only some pages later)?????

▶ Cross and his mask Hoshino hinted that both Lavi’s eyepatch and Cross’s mask are mysteries to be unveiled. The mark on his mask looks like the Innocence and the Noah’s stigma. It also looks like Mana’s Pierrot makeup, or even the Pillar mentioned in volume 27:

The shape of his mask looks like a coffin? (It could also be a visual recall of Grave of Maria, but who knows!)

It reminds me of the "La" + "Vi" cover and the 'box' protecting the egg also looks like a coffin:

▶ Road We now know Road was even able to manipulate Allen/Neah’s dreams without even interacting with them (unlike with Lavi). She even invited Cross’ dreamy-whatever-consciousness in it (because I’m sure Cross himself was conscious of it to some extent and was able to give some hints to Allen even though he was used by Road), which persuaded Allen to go to the Campbell mansion. Could it be that she also tampered with Lenalee and Allen’s nightmares after she met them (or at the very least Allen, since the manga shows how the dream strongly motivated him to reactivate his Innocence)?

I find it even more curious she’s named like that when one of Allen’s elements of crisis over his identity is following a road already traced by somebody else.

Road might have something to do with the Heart (that and also the fact her iconic door is heart-shaped, with a checked pattern and a crown on top?)?

▶ Apocryphos Ch247 finally established the link between the Cube’s prophecies and Apocryphos: the Cube is regarded by the Order as the official « text » on the Innocence and the three days of doom, the Heart is mentioned but there is no trace of Apocryphos in there. Just as the truth on the 3 days of doom the Noah claim to exist. Also just as the Heart is capable to create dupes to escape the Earl. Apocryphos is a literal reference to the apocrypha, texts deemed unauthentic by religious authorities. According to the Cambridge dictionary, « an apocryphal story is probably not true although it is often told and believed by some people to have happened. » The one the most tricked so far in the story seems to be the Order.

▶ Cross in volume 17

In volume 17, Cross asks Allen « What if I told you that when you become the 14th you will have to kill the people (or someone) you care about? ». To which Allen answers: « What do you mean I have to kill the people (or someone) I care about?! »

In the original version, Cross uses « daijina ningen (人間) » for ‘the people (or someone) you care about’ ; Allen uses « daijina hito (人) ».

Which is curious for Cross because hito (人) would generally be used here: both mean human, but while 人 refers to ‘human’ as a person, 人間 refers to ‘human’ as the species in a taxonomic classification. Is it to highlight the true nature of Neah as a Noah apart from the humans Allen came to care about along his way? Does Cross also set himself apart from the humanity as a 3rd party?

▶ Funny how Link and Mana can be associated in the manga: -> ch137, « Orphan and Clown », introduces Link to Allen when he’s still trying to figure out why the Ark’s partition uses the signs Mana taught him and is questioned by Link about it. It is later revealed in the manga Link was an orphan before joining the Crow. -> in ch183, Allen inadvertently voices his memories of Mana to Link -> in ch212, « Searching for A.W.: Calling You », as Allen loses consciousness, fighting Neah’s awakening, he calls out to Link but instead is greeted by a vision of a young Mana, calling out to Neah. This chapter also introduces the importance of Allen’s name to save him from Neah’s dreams. The original version for ‘Calling You’ is ‘’君を呼ぶ ‘ (kimi wo yobu). ‘Kimi’ is the pronoun both Mana and Link use in the manga ; past!Allen also seemed to use it with Neah. Johnny and Kanda both use omae for Allen.

EDIT: Allen also uses 'kimi' so the chapter's title works both ways (in French, the title was translated as "Écoute ma voix" which is "Listen to my voice", I like the way the calling works interchangeably!)!

-> in ch213, Link faces a mirror shirtless like Mana does later in volume 25:

-> in ch220, « Searching for A.W.: He Closes His Eyes Tighter in a Vortex », Neah recalls the Earl he’s Mana but remains in denial and Link admits being conflicted over Allen and Neah

Link, Neah and Cross share similar positions and the panelling adds to this parallel:

-> Link was given the order to aid Neah but hopes that Allen overcomes his fate as his host.

-> Neah awakens years later and faces the Earl, struggling with Mana’s memory ; he’s determined to destroy him even if he holds him dear.

-> Cross had to witness Mana's struggle against the Earl. Yet he still had to carry on his mission even when the Earl possessed Mana. Then he had to watch Allen being slowly taken over by Neah. Cross's message in ch173 hits even harder given his link with Mana and Neah: "You may not want to listen to someone like me who carries the will of the Fourteenth… But if you think either of us is forcing you to walk a certain path… I want you to know that’s not true. A path forms behind you as you walk. The earth you step on is compressed, leaving a print. You’re the only one who can make your path. So stop wearing Mana’s mask. Walk in your own if you haven’t given up." Perhaps he even said similar words to an anguished Mana (or he wished to have said them). He had to watch them go, one after the other, helplessly.

▶ The moon, D. and C.

Are the D and the C just stylized in Mana and Luberrier’s names? At least for Mana’s and Neah’s, the D. could hold some meaning since it even was ch218’s title. Hoshino dreamed to become an astronaut, loves the moon and the stars (they’re even part of her name and her own mascot) and used it a lot in her previous works.

In DGM, the moon is seen in its different phases at important moments. It mainly signals the passing of time (eg. how long has Allen been on the run) or gives atmospheric context to the scenes, but sometimes it holds a symbolic meaning:

-> The first Noah reunion shows the moon phases on each chair

-> It is part of the Musician's Score's lyrics (from the french official translation): « Tu étincelles, toi, l’enfant né sous une tremblante lune d’argent. » which could be « You shine, the child born underneath a trembling silver moon ».

-> It frames a romantic scene between Crowley and Eliade:

-> The moon and the stars are used in chapter titles eg. ch129, « Black and white, 0° » (a reference to the new moon) and ch144 « Black star, red star »

-> It’s foreboding in Lenalee & Allen’s nightmares and Allen’s prophecy as the Destroyer of time:

-> The full moon appears when two characters reunite: in astronomy, a syzygy is a « situation that occurs when the sun, the moon (or a planet), and the earth are in a straight line. This occurs when the moon (or planet) is at conjunction (new moon) or opposition (full moon) ». Syzygy comes from the ancient greek συζυγία which means junction, reunion.

Mana and Red’s first meeting, as Mana sings the lullaby:

Allen and the Earl’s ‘first’ meeting:

Allen and Link reunite:

As for the D and the C, when the moon waxes it is shaped like a D, and when wanes it appears as a C. Could this be a coincidence? The C in Luberrier could also be Campbell, but for now the mystery surrounding his family is far from being revealed.

▶ Timothy and Allen In ch183, « Wash your face and you’ll be alright », Timothy and the Prioress face the sunset the same way Mana and Red did as later revealed in ch238:

Have a nice week!

#dgm spoilers #dgm meta #d gray man #allen walker #road kamelot #cross marian #mana walker #link howard #neah campbell

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thecampjuicebox · 6 months

Text

To have and to hold Pt. 1

A couple of weeks before Tav and Gale's wedding night, Tav is having second thoughts. Seeking out a past lover before the big night, turns her world upside-down.

Pairing: Tav(f) x Gale x Astarion

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Trying my hand at a multi-part fic. Let me know what you think! This idea was suggested to me and I couldn't NOT do it. This is gonna be a long one. Buckle up!

Dress fittings, picking out decorations, venue tours, flowers, food choices, invitations and exchanging kisses with family and friends you've neglected to speak to since the Nether Brain had fallen - all aspects of a wedding you didn't seem to take into account when accepting Gale's proposal. You love him, yes. Unconditionally. With every fiber of your being, and those floating through the weave. And yet.. Regret bubbles up in your gut while staring at yourself in the mirror, hands smoothing the bone white lace on the bodice of your wedding dress. You fumble with the top of your corset, shifting uncomfortably at the stiff boning. Shadowheart stands behind you, one hand placed gently on your shoulder and she leans in to whisper to you, your pointed ears perking up.

"There's still time to turn back, you know."

Your heart thumps audibly in your chest and you sigh, picking at your fingernails. You didn't want to admit how frightened you are. You've never considered forever. Especially not with someone like Gale. Charming, handsome, intelligence unmatched. He was the perfect candidate. The man your late mother always dreamed you'd bring home to the family, Selune bless her. You choke back tears at the thought of her. How she won't be there for the big moment anyways, so why does it matter who you wed? You'd also never been to Waterdeep. You and Gale decided to stay in Baldur's Gate briefly while you made the preparations. It was easier that way. Gale had traveled back to Waterdeep for short bursts of time, mostly to see that Tara, his tressym and trusted friend, was well taken care of. You decided to stay back every time, much to Gale's dismay. Something about making the trek to your soon to be forever home made you uneasy any time he'd ask. You've traveled all over Faerun and back. Hells, you'd even plunged into Avernus more times than you'd be willing to admit. The idea of spending your days in a tower with a tressym, a husband, and an endless supply of books was not how you thought you'd end your travels, though. Mrs. Dekarios. You'd take his last name, obviously. Wear it as a badge of honor. Meet his family, bare his children. Gods.. Children. The idea makes you nauseous, hot bile threatening to fight its way up your throat. Shaking your head, you tune back in to the sounds of the quaint Baldurian dress shop. You were no stranger to Figaro's. You came to enjoy the lavish clothing he offers. Textures your fingers never felt before the cult of the Absolute forced it's way into your life. You were reborn, newly cultured, and so very exhausted by all of it. Karlach stands, making her way over to the small platform you stand on and she meets your eyes in the mirror.

"Everything okay, Soldier?"

You chuckle at the nickname. Soldier.. You feel like anything but a soldier right now. Her warm hand reaches down to capture yours and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Tears well up in your large brown eyes and you lower your head once more to ease the burning in your tear ducts. You feel so hopeless. Surrounded by the people you love most, but so entirely and devastatingly alone. Your thoughts swirl in your brain, engulfing the area the tadpole once lived. How could you be so ready to give up on Gale? You know he loves you just as much as you love him. If not more. Definitely more. A quiet sob escapes you and you crumble onto the platform, startling Shadowheart and Karlach. In confusion, the two kneel beside you, each one grabbing a hand.

"Gods, Tav.. What has gotten into you?"

Karlach's voice is stern and low, her fingers tightening around yours to ground you in the moment. Shadowheart sighs and shakes her head. She knows. She understands. Small cries rattle your ribcage as a never-ending stream of tears streaks your flushed cheeks. Embarrassment burns in your throat and you quickly stand again, both hands yanking away from your companions. You want nothing more to be free of this dress and the agonizingly tight corset holding all of you in. You reach back and tug at the laces of the corset in frustration, failing to loosen anything before throwing your hands down at your sides once more.

"I'd like to be free of this death trap, please."

You mumble quietly. Shadowheart giggles and begins unlacing the corset while Karlach moves to the front of you, both hands now resting on the tops of your trembling shoulders.

"It's going to be alright. Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. Hells, I'd be fucking batshit if I were in your position. Especially with someone as grand as Gale."

You allow a giggle to pass your frown and sigh heavily in relief when Shadowheart finally frees you from the corset, the pale leather folding neatly in her gentle hands.

"Looks like you need a hefty meal and a nap, Soldier. Let's get going. Your dress fits you just fine."

Figaro scoffs in the corner and collects the corset from Shadowheart, placing it down on a velvet bench before extending his hand to you and helping you down from the platform. He leads you to a small room so you can change back into your normal clothing, quickly shutting the curtain behind him as he steps out. You sigh and quickly shimmy out of your dress, carefully folding the fancy fabric and leaving it on the small stool in the room.

...

"Where are you headed off to? How was your dress fitting? I assume you've gotten all of the details figured out with Figaro by now?"

Gale's eyes lift from the dusty tome lying open on his desk. He scans your form, taking inventory of the cloak you've draped over your shoulders. You wiggle your toes in your boots and shrug off his concerned tone.

"I uh.. Derryth needs help collecting noblestock. Baelen is ill. The fitting went.. About as well as expected. Karlach cried, Shadowheart told me I should get the dress in black, Figaro was disgusted by that idea."

Your fingers drum against your thighs and you turn to look at him, attempting the most sincere look you can muster in the moment. The wizard's eyes narrow on you and he nods slowly, placing his palms flat on his desk to help lift him from his stool. His fingers graze the page on the tome before he begins his trek across the room to you. Gale pulls you into a tight hug, one hand grasping your waist while the other smooths your dark hair against the back of your head.

"Ah yes, Figaro and his.. Closed-minded fashion sense. Well, I'm glad the shop at least didn't go up in flames. The Underdark, hmm? Be safe, my love. Send word when you're on your way back, yes?"

You nod at his words and rest your head against his chest, the gentle thumping of his heart calming the nervous fizz in your brain for a moment. The soft velvet of his robe tickles your cheek and you nuzzle against it in the same fashion Tara would, but with much less purring. Gale chuckles and pecks the top of your head, mumbling a soft "I love you" against your scalp before he releases you, his hand reaching for yours to quickly caress the finger with your engagement ring on it. A soft smile thins his lips and he motions for you to make your exit. You smile nervously up at him, pulling your hand away gently and you turn to leave, your hands coming to your front to slowly slide your ring off of your finger and into your thigh pouch, your teeth catching your bottom lip. You slip into the night, tugging your cloak hood up to further shroud you in darkness.

...

You missed the glowing alure of the Underdark. The Myconid Colony serving as a beacon of calming light. You let out a quiet sigh at the familiar surroundings and cross your arms over your heaving chest, taking a moment to drink in the atmosphere and catch your breath. You weren't here to collect noblestock, and quite honestly, you're proud of yourself for the excuse you had come up with on the spot. You're in search of something much more valuable to you. A vampire spawn. The very one you'd shared so many sleepless nights with while infected with the tadpoles. Astarion. His name sends a shudder through your entire body. After your group took down Cazador in his crypt, Astarion made the impossible decision to kill the vampire lord and stop the Black Mass, freeing his fellow spawn to live in the shadows for eternity. Unfortunately, he was doomed to the same fate once the Nether Brain was defeated. You blink tears away from your eyes, rubbing your palms into the sockets to ease the slight burning. The thought of him cowering at the sun just after the final fight, running off never to be seen again, it makes your heart ache in a way you didn't think possible. And it has been exactly that long since you've laid eyes on the spawn. But you remember him so vividly. His pearlescent skin. His crimson eyes. His silvery hair that always rested in perfect curls, even after the roughest of battles with goblins.

Continuing your walk through the Underdark, your eyes fall on more familiar territory. The Duergar camp, nestled just on the edge of the black water you fondly remember sailing to Grymforge. However, the camp is... Inhabited. Rebuilt. Much more beautiful than you remember, large purple crystals growing in tall pillars around the quaint wooden houses peppered around the area. Long rope bridges connect the homes and buildings on the higher cliffs, chasm creeper and mushrooms speckled about on the rock. Your tired legs seem to will you towards the new found civilization, the promise of sleep fogging your brain. Taking a step into the camp, your eyes scan the surroundings, a few faces seeming oddly familiar to you. A tall, long haired vampire spawn with the scarring of runes scattered about his face approaches you, his crimson eyes cutting through the dark gloom. The purple glow of the crystal pillars around you grants you just enough light to make out his facial features.

"Tav..?"

"Sebastian?!"

Your eyes widen at the sudden realization. Sebastian is one of the Spawn your group freed from Cazador's crypt. A bright smile adorns your tired face and you sprint towards him, quickly embracing him in a tight hug. You nearly knock him off of his feet, your hands gripping the soft fabric of the back of his coat. The spawn chuckles and catches your short frame, gently lifting you from the dirt and giving you a playful twirl, earning a giggle. You inhale deeply, the scent of lavender and deep earth filling your nostrils.

"It's lovely to see you. Astarion hasn't stopped talking about his adventures by your side. I do believe he's around here somewhere. But what are you doing here, Dear? "

Your breath catches in your throat at the mention of his name. He's here. He's really here. You traveled all the way beneath the ground on an inkling that he might have followed the other spawn to the Underdark to seek refuge from the burning sun. Your heart thumps in your chest and Sebastian inhales your excitement deeply. He places you back onto your feet and takes a step back, smoothing his coat down before motioning for you to follow him. You nod and make haste, trying your best to keep up with his quick strides as he leads you in, what you assume to be, the direction of the spawn you initially traveled here to see. Sebastian stops in front of a large wooden door, tapping a few knocks onto the surface with the knuckle of his index finger. He holds his free hand out to you, motioning for you to wait outside once he hears a quiet "Enter" from the dark room behind the door. He carefully opens the door and steps inside, blocking the being within the walls from seeing you.

"Pardon me, Astarion. You have a visitor."

"A visitor? I thought I told that wretch that it was a one time thing! Gods, these deep gnomes are needy. Very well, send him in."

Sebastian stifles a chuckle and steps aside, revealing your presence to the the vampire. You step forward into the dim candlelight of his home, bottom lip caught nervously between your teeth, biting impressively hard on the sensitive flesh. Astarion looks even more beautiful than you remember. His hair a touch longer than before, but still arranged in that intoxicating mess of curls. A sparkling silver chalice rests between his pale, slender fingers and he swirls the contents in it with finesse. A familiar metallic tang lingers in the air along with the soft scent of bergamot and rosemary. A scent you grew very fond of when you were traveling alongside the spawn. One you often find yourself craving back home. Astarion is lying on a small velvet love seat, one leg outstretched and the other bent with his foot resting firmly in the plush cushion beneath him. Piles of dusty books and candles speckle the tables and floors around him, the room still tidy, but certainly lived in. His back rests against the armrest and he stretches for a moment before his eyes drift towards the front door. As he slowly turns his attention to the new intruder, he takes another sip from the chalice and he chokes suddenly, sputtering the red liquid. You stand in the doorway, hands clasped behind your back and you watch his reaction, a light smirk building on your lips. Astarion hurries to his feet, setting the chalice down with care to not spill any more of its contents before moving towards you swiftly.

"Tav is.. Is that you?"

You nod quickly and he whisks you from the floor, his face burying into the crook of your warm neck. You shudder at the sensation of his cold nose nuzzling your skin and you snake your arms around his shoulders, hands finding a comfortable spot in his soft hair. He groans at your touch and tugs you impossibly close to his frame, inhaling every bit of your scent that his nose will allow. Sebastian excuses himself, quietly closing the heavy door behind him.

"I've missed you, little star.."

"Where the hells have you been?"

You cling to him tightly, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks at his question. You shake your head and slowly slide from his embrace. His face contorts into a look of confusion, large eyes glimmering in the candle light when he focuses on your change of posture.

"Little love.. What ever could be the matter?"

You couldn't possibly tell him here. Not now. Not in this moment. You palm at your eyes once more before lifting your head to meet his gaze. He reaches out a gentle hand and cups your burning cheek, lovingly stroking the bone there with his thumb. You tilt your head into his touch and savor the feeling of his skin on yours again, finally. You've missed the vampling so much. Your heart pounds like a goblin war drum behind your ribs. He takes a step closer to you, his free arm gently snaking around your waist. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the salty taste of your sweat making his pupils dilate. A quiet whine slips past your lips.

"Speak to me, Tav. You're never so tongue tied, you poor thing. What has you so rattled?"

Shaking your head, your arms fly around Astarion's neck, taking him by surprise. He stumbles backwards, bumping his calves against the ornate wooden frame of the loveseat and he sits down to catch himself, a small grunt breaking the otherwise harsh silence of the room. You collapse on top of his thin but toned frame and gasp at the impact. Wet eyes meeting his, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite at it, drawing blood. Astarion senses the metallic hint in the air and groans, your very familiar and intoxicating scent making his grasp on you tighten in a primal fashion. He mumbles a soft "Gods.." and reaches one hand up to grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You strain your eyes in the candlelight, releasing your bottom lip, the skin there now bruised, little rivulets of your life's essence staining the skin there.

"Astarion I..."

His grasp on you loosens and his gaze softens. He flashes you a gentle smile and cocks his head to the side. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, and though he revels in the idea that he can still fluster you this way, you feel his intentions have changed. The way his hands rest respectfully on your lower back now, the gentle drumming of his fingers against your spine. He's hungry, but he's doing so well restraining himself. The Astarion you met after the Nautiloid crash and the Astarion seated beneath you now are so incredibly different. It only makes you want to explore him more, to learn his new ways. And it feels so, incredibly wrong.

"Yes?"

"H-Have you eaten? Lately, I mean. I can't imagine there's much to feast on in the Underdark.."

Your question makes his eyebrows knit together for a moment, his expression twisting at the thought of just how hungry he is. Sure, he's eaten. Feasted upon a deep gnome here and there, their blood burning the inside of his mouth as he drinks. He hasn't, however, had anything nearly as delicious as your blood since the death of the Nether Brain. You were the last of your kind that he fed on, and he missed the taste all the same.

"I have eaten, yes. But, you know I am a man of.. Tremendous appetite."

His velvet words send a shiver down your spine and you press to him tightly now, closing the small gap that was left between your torsos while you straddle one of his legs. His knee presses into your mound and you try your best to block to feeling out of your mind. His eyes meet yours, full of lust. Full of hunger. Tinted with the gentle flicker of.. Love. You were his first mortal, after all. And he would be a liar if he told you that all of those nights of honeyed words and sweet nothings weren't how he truly felt about you. You offered yourself to him in a way no one ever has. Not with the intent to sleep with him. Just with the intent to make sure he was taken care of. A debt he, to this day, has no idea how to repay. His thought process is halted when you lean in close, bloodied lips grazing the length of his earlobe and you mutter quietly.

"I-If you're hungry.. Feed."

You back yourself up to meet his gaze once more. His eyebrows furrow and he growls, the deep noise causing your insides to ignite. Without hesitation, Astarion leans forward and flicks his tongue out against your sensitive bottom lip, lapping at the blood that has begun to dry there. He earns a whine from you, his pointy ears perking up at the sound. He smirks, determined for more noises and he sucks your bottom lip between his own, sinking a fang into the already abused flesh. You moan quietly, tilting your head back to tug your lip away from his grasp and your hands meet his chest, fingers toying with the ruffles around the collar of his silk shirt. The vampling's breath stutters at the encounter, your hands on his chest making his hairs stand on end. You instinctively grind your hips down into his, your leathers making a quiet noise from the friction. "Please.." you stutter, hands pulling at the front of his shirt now, your begging making Astarion's head swirl. Nose first, Astarion nuzzles into the side of your neck again, this time with much more intent, tracing the length of your perfectly soft skin. Baring his fangs to the open space, he quickly drags the flat of his tongue to prime the area for the sensation of the sharp pricks. His teeth sink into the flesh there, like ice shards. The pain is delicious and dizzying. You roll your hips again, this time Astarion's hips bucking upwards to meet your already wet core. You ache for him and you hate yourself for it. He laps the now steady stream of blood he's drawn from your neck, a low groan ringing in your ear as he drinks. In the past, he would drink while you were unconscious. Now, you wished you'd have been awake every time you had offered your neck to him. The little noises he makes, the way he gently cradles the back of your head while he feeds.. It's intoxicating. You're drunk off of the pain and the pleasure. Drunk off of Astarion. His lips leave your skin, tongue tracing the new pierce marks he's left in the crook of your neck. His hands remain where they are, one cradling the back of your head, the other tightly gripping the back of your shirt. He sighs to himself, tilting his head back as he cleans the crimson fluid from his lips.

"By the Nine Hells, you're just as delicious as I remember. I need more of you.."

His hands both slide to meet the tie of your cloak, making quick work of undoing it, the dark fabric sliding to the floor at his feet. Your body trembles beneath every movement, every feather-light touch from his fingers. As much as you love him, this was a feeling Gale has never been able to give to you. You love him.. Differently. You love his intellect. You love how much he adores Tara. You love his affinity for books and the way he talks about the weave. But your love for Astarion.. That was leaps and bounds deeper than anything you've ever felt. His touch sets your skin on fire. Your name sounds like a lyric on his tongue, soft and melodious. You crave him. His presence. His existence. You crave all of it. Tears threaten your eyes again and Astarion notices immediately. His hands quickly cup your cheeks and his soft lips crash to yours, your entire body falling limp against him. Arousal boils your blood, bubbling up into your throat, escaping as a soft moan against the vampire's lips. You're unraveling right there in his arms. He kisses you in a way you never in your life have been kissed, teeth knocking, tongues wrestling for dominance, the slight copper taste of blood lingering in his mouth from his meal. Your hips find a steady rhythm, rocking back and forth against his lap, the two of you moaning in tandem at the fiery friction building between your bodies. His right hand snaps upwards to grab your throat, thumb and fingers pressing harshly into the sides of your neck, your breath labored by the force of his palm against your trachea. Hungry red eyes meet your gaze and Astarion's lips slowly form the words that will be your undoing.

"Your body keeps no secrets, my love. This is what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"

You moan at his words, jaw falling slack. His hand moves upwards to press his thumb into your mouth, a quiet "Suck." commanding your lips to close around the digit, tongue lapping at his fingerprint. He watches you, pupils blown out with desire, hair disheveled from your previous kiss. You continue to suck on his thumb, his free fingers tapping rhythmically against your cheek bone and he purrs in delight. Your bones vibrate, your core aches, walls fluttering around nothing. He slips his thumb from between your lips with a gentle "pop" and replaces it with his middle and index finger. You obediently take the new fingers just as you did the thumb, moistening them with your saliva. He presses down on the flat of your tongue and you stick it out, allowing him to swipe his fingers around in your spittle. A devilish grin thins his lips as he watches you.

"So good.. Let's put this to good use, shall we?"

He slides his wet fingers down towards the waistband of your leathers, using his free hand to tug them forward. You curse under your breath, unable to do anything but watch. His fingers hastily meet your core, swiping teasingly slow between your think folds and you collapse against him, shaky little moans ringing in his ears. He groans at how wet you are, wasting no time to dip two digits into your aching cunt, finally granting you the pleasure you've been seeking. His thumb presses tightly to your clit and he moves it in agonizingly slow circles, first clockwise, then counter clockwise, and suddenly, in no particular pattern. You writhe against his hand, gasping and whining.

"That's it. Such a mess."

He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, relishing in the beautiful noises he earns in return. You're at the precipice now. You grind into his hand feverishly and throw your head back, whining into the open air, his name coming out in little yelps and moans. However, he keeps the slow pace. Taking his sweet, sweet time with you. It's been so long since he's touched you. Made you moan like this. Made you drop all defenses and absolutely lose yourself in him. He loves every second of it, his own pleasure coming solely from pleasuring you. He wants nothing more than to deliver you the ecstasy you so greatly deserve. It's the only way he knows how to repay you for the kindness, love, and support you've shown him in this lifetime. You'd never be up front about asking him for sex, let alone to touch you like this. You're the only person he's ever known to respect how he feels, what he wants, what he needs. For this, he has grown to love you with every ounce he's able to give. The time apart from you was agonizing and he spent many nights, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, praying to whatever gods would hear him that you would return to him. That you'd crawl into his bed once more so he could hold you and drink in your warmth. However, he knew you were somewhere else, with someone else. He didn't have the heart to approach you about it in this moment. All he wanted was to be here, with you. To enjoy you for as long as he possibly could before you slipped away, more unknown amounts of time passing before he'd be able to lay eyes on you again. To take in your sweet scent, one he has tried for months to recreate in a perfume. Vanilla, sandalwood, and woodsmoke. A tantalizing combination that leaves his brain all fuzzy and warm. He snaps back to reality, focusing harder now on your moans and the wiggle of your hips. The knot in your belly tightens with each stroke of his fingers against that heavenly spot within your walls, your arousal soaking his entire hand and the leathers that separate your skin from the cold air. His free hand grasps your hip, stilling your desperate grinding.

"Come for me, pet."

The movement of his fingers keeps a slow, steady pace. His thumb continues to rub into your clit, pressing a little harder now to throw you over the edge. You tighten around him, the knot in your core finally snapping, ecstasy making your eyes roll into your buzzing skull. The loud moan you let out surprises even you as you come undone against his hand. He grins proudly, working you through your climax, whispering sweet affirmations of how well you're doing during your comedown. Carefully sliding his fingers from your leathers, he pops one into his mouth, savoring your warm slick. His lids flutter in enjoyment and you watch him closely.

"You are.. Filthy.."

You giggle and wrap your arms sleepily around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you up to straddle him now, hands cupping the supple meat of your ass. You close your eyes tightly, the reality of tonight's events creating a pit in your stomach. You fight with yourself internally. Should you tell Astarion? Should you tell Gale? Should you even go home? A quiet sigh leaves you and your breath coasts along Astarion's pale flesh, making him tremble momentarily. He rests his chin on your shoulder and mumbles quietly. His next words make your stomach drop, your eyes shooting open suddenly.

"Well, this should be fun to explain to Gale.."

#baulders gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion smut

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booktomoviebrawl · 4 months

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We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

Persuasion:

They massacred my girl!! That is not Anne Elliot!! The whole point is that she's beaten down and thinks she's missed her chance at happiness and is bullied by her family, not making mean and snarky nods to the camera :( They completely missed the whole point of the dynamic and it's SICKENING! They also cut Mrs Smith who is arguably one of the most important characters as she highlights Anne's lack of focus on title and rank and her family's comparative obsession with it + it's only through her that Anne learns about Mr Elliot's true nasty nature. Also they cut the 'I am half agony, half hope' line from Wentworth's letter at the end so what's even the POINT of adapting it if you don't have that!! Oh my god!! My poor favourite Austen novel :( (I do want to make it very very clear that my issues with the movie come from the writing and adaptation and not in any way from the race blind casting. The casting is superb and I'm genuinely so disappointed that they got such a bad adaptation bc so many of the cast are literally perfect)

Where do I even start? They tried to 'modernize' both the protagonist and the love story and managed to take out everything that made it good in the first place. Anne Elliot in the novel is quiet and good and helpful, full of regret. In the movie, she constantly turns to the audience to mock everyone around her, feeling so much better than everyone, to the point where nobody understands why Captain Wentworth would still be in love with her, or have fallen in love with her in the first place. Eight years before the plot starts, she broker her engagement to him because she was persuaded by a family friend that it was a bad idea. No way would movie!Anne have let herself be persuaded. They just tried to do a Fleabag/Emma type of thing without understanding what made either the novel or those two things work and thereby ruined it completely

Whoever made this didn't understand the point of the novel at all. They completely screwed up the character of Anne Elliot (the protagonist), which in turn screws the rest of the movie, as the original story only works because Anne is the way she is. Also, it's a period piece but the characters are talking in modern slang the entire time. And not in a clever way but in a very cringey one. If Jane Austen knew, she'd probably turn in her grave, and rightfully so.

Maximum Ride:

The storyline makes absolutely no sense, and the movie is nothing like the book. You could've given the movie an entirely different name and and keep the plot I wouldn't bat an eye

the movie's just bad mate

Horrendous low budget netflix movie with effects so bad they make me feel physically ill and acting so wooden the cast is in danger of being attacked by lumberjacks. The story already wasn't the best and the film somehow made it worst. I came in with nostalgia for my dear kids with bird wings and left never to be the same again.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children:

While Miss Peregrine was one of my favorite books as a kid and incredibly unique in the way the story is written (The author basically took a box of weird antique photographs and created an underlying story behind a handful of them) the movie is incredibly boring. Like seriously I can't remember a single goddamn thing about the movie besides my extreme disappointment with it after leaving the theatres. It's probably because the original is a trilogy but they didn't want to make it a trilogy for the movie so they just scrapped the ending of the first book and rewrote a shitty climax where they threw snowballs at the nightmare child eating creatures or something. I remember THAT scene perfectly because it was so, so dumb. It was so stupid oh my God- ALSO, thank God I have a copy of the book from before the film came out because new copies don't have one of the photographs that the actual book uses as a base anymore and instead have the shitty movie poster! We truly do live in a society.

Changed way too much so it doesn't feel like the same thing. The main characters are these kids with different abilities (called peculiarities) and the movie switches around their powers and changes almost everyone's age. Emma and Olive switch powers so that Emma now floats (they also added that she can kind of control air to some extent) when she's supposed to have fire powers to match her fiery personality. Olive can make fire now and she's also aged up from an eight year old to a teenager and put her in this weird romance with Enoch. Enoch is also aged up from a grumpy thirteen year old to around the same age as Olive. Bronwyn, one of the older kids in the book and sort of a motherly figure to the younger kids, is now one of the youngest kids. Hugh and Fiona are aged down and basically have no interaction at all in the movie, even when their book counterparts had such a good relationship. The only one they didn't really change was Horace and Jacob. They also added these gorgon twins that do like two things. The antagonist in the movie is Mr. Barron who honestly isn't super memorable and isn't in the books whatsoever. The ending of the movie is weird too because they manage to turn back time somehow so Jacob's grandfather isn't dead and then he hops through loops so he can be with Emma and the other peculiars. I guess the problem of wights and hollowgasts is magically eliminated and we do not have to deal with the consequences. It took six books to fix everything. I appreciate that the movie engaged me enough to read the series but once I did, I could not believe they did my kids that dirty.

Yikes where to start. The 3 girl characters are all mixed up. There are 2 teens, one who's super strong and has a brother (I'll get back to him) and one who controls fire and is the love interest named Emma. The third girl is a child called Olive who floats. She's lighter than air.

In the movie, strong girl is the child, olive is now the fire girl and is for some reason super introverted, and Emma the love interest floats and gets given a super breath??? Power?? Like she rises a sunken ship by blowing in and keeps a man blown against a wall by blowing air at him. He makes a remark that she'll run out of breath eventually, which happens here because plot convenience, but not when she's blowing in the sunken ship.

The enemies in the book are terrifying Hollows. Creatures who have lost themselves and devour souls of those with powers... The movie decides they eat eyes now. And turn human again. And get busted up in a fair for the final act of the movie. Ugh.

The movie also decides randomly that time travelling through the loops is a thing; a loop being a pocket of time that replays the same day over and over. But apparently this means Main Character can travel back in time and stop his grandfather dying??? What?? His grandfathers death is the whole start of the movie and motivation for the character.

The movie undermines many of things that made the book amazing and even decides it's not a trilogy anymore!! Fuck the other 2 books, right?!

Tldr; it is terribly hollywood-ised and t tim Burton ruined a franchise by trying too hard to make it quirky and fun when the books already had a brilliant sombre and interesting tone to them.

#tournament poll #persuasion 2022 #persuasion #maximum ride #miss peregrines home for peculiar children

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anopoulos · 9 months

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About Aziraphale.

GOOD OMENS 2 SPOILERS. LIKE ALL OF IT. ALMOST ALL OF IT. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

Look. I understand. I was angry too, when I saw the last scene. Because how could Aziraphale not know what Crowley wanted, right? How could he not know what Crowley needed?

But I feel like we’re mainly seeing this from the perspective of someone who’s seen Crowley’s (multiple) monologue(s) about his fall. How hurt he is, how angry he feels.

Aziraphale wasn't there for any of these scenes, so how could he know?

The moment Metatron offered Aziraphale the post of the Archangel and the possibility of reforming Crowley, EVERY (ha) viewer knew that wasn’t what Crowley wanted. But that’s the thing.

We know that because of things Crowley has never said to Aziraphale. Because this is one of the topics that they don’t talk about. That’s not part of their dance, never has been, apart from the usual “you’re different than me, that is why you do things the way you do” or the casual bickering.

We don’t know why they don’t talk about it, we can only speculate. Maybe it hurts Crowley (we can see that he’s upset about it many times), maybe it’s uncomfortable for Aziraphale (because, deep down, he fears that the same thing might happen to him).

But what we do know is that Aziraphale has never seen Crowley actively as happy with anything else around him (apart from himself, which I refuse to believe Aziraphale doesn’t realize) as he was when he was an angel. I believe that was the first scene of the season for a reason. But what Aziraphale doesn’t realize is the fact that Crowley wasn’t happy because he was an angel, he was happy because of his creations. He was proud of them (which may have been one of the reasons for his Fall in the first place).

And something that we see during this season, is the fact that Crowley a) doesn’t seem as interested in the things he created when he was an angel and b) doesn’t even remember most of his life as an angel (maybe because he was forced to forget, which I don’t believe to be true, most demons seem to remember their lives before the Fall).

So we know that, despite the fact that he’s hurt for having fallen, he has no true wish to come back. And that’s the thing I don’t think Aziraphale realizes.

He doesn’t want to come back to Heaven nor to Hell, and we know why. He’s the one who convinced Aziraphale to save the world the first time around, in the first place.

He likes living on Earth, he likes drinking wine and coffee, and listening to music, and taking naps and, sometimes, nibbing at some food. He likes watching action movies and cartoons. And he knows Aziraphale has his pleasures with the world as well (hence why the convincing to stop Armageddon worked so quickly).

Now, what I feel like is, ever since the job mini episode, Aziraphale has had to come to terms, understand or simply acknowledge the fact that he's on "his own side". That's what Crowley told him, that's the side Crowley's on, and that had taken him by surprise. Especially because he ended up going "against god's intentions" by ultimately doing something good.

Weren't angels supposed to be good? Why were Gabriel and the others (even Muriel) so unbothered by the death of three children? By the suffering of two parents who, ultimately, did everything right, in god's book?

And also, weren't demons supposed to be evil? Why was Crowley helping him save these kids, if he was an enemy? He says he's on his own side (that sounds… lonely), but he still had done wrong things, hadn't he? He was one of the fallen. Surely it wasn't without reason.

That was, I believe, the first instance where Aziraphale truly questioned the institutions of heaven and hell, good and evil, for what they were.

And at the same time it was freeing to "go with heaven until you can", I believe this is perhaps the moment where Aziraphale feels the most upset about this. Because heaven was where he came from, so there must be some comforting memories, fond feelings towards it.

So the information he gathered from this experience could be summarized to:

Sometimes, heaven (and god?) can go a little too far with the gambling of the human lives

Crowley is, deep down, good.

And based on what he knew from good and evil, it makes sense for him to think, at this point and time, that the "goodness" in Crowley is his angelic side showing up. Refusing to die with the fall. Persisting to show up despite everything that's happened.

And we see Aziraphale grappling with the notions of good and evil again and again with the other flashbacks, which I believe are essential, and were added with the specific purpose of, to understand Aziraphale's mindset.

He realized he wasn't fully aligned with heaven in s02e2 and that had taken him by surprise. It was lonely, it was different than everything he's ever believed in (and we know he doesn't like change), so it was painfully clear, achingly obvious that at the first chance he got, he would go running back. It was safe, it was comfortable, it was where he was made and what he was made for.

But. In the thousands of years he spent on earth, doing things a little more aligned to his own ideals, while at the same time trying to follow his original heavenly path, he had grown attached.

To humans (a little bit). To food. To theater, to drinks (eventually), to books. And to Crowley. And all of these things are inherently intertwined. One came with another, in a jumble. If he lost one of them, he would lose all of them, all at once.

So it is completely understandable that, the moment heaven (the place he missed terribly, the place he wanted to be good) offered him the two things he wanted most, he ran with it without much questioning.

Of course he would miss the little pleasures. Coffee, his bookshop. But he would have Crowley. He would have Crowley happy again, creating Nebulae and stars, and he and Crowley would make heaven good. Worthy. Worthy enough for both of them.

(We say that Crowley isn’t happy with the ways Heaven is managed, and that is true. But what is also true is the fact that Aziraphale has disagreed with the other angels [and GOD] times before. He, also, is unhappy with them, so of course he would take the chance to change that and run with it.)

And that, I think, is the most heartbreaking part of the entire last scene they share. Crowley knows Aziraphale likes Earth. Loves it, even. And he cares about the things Aziraphale cares about. And, most importantly, Aziraphale knows that, too. He’s known that since the Church bombing.

So when Crowley says “you can’t leave this bookshop”, Aziraphale sees that as “I know you care about this place more than anything, are you truly ok with leaving it behind?” and he’s so appreciative of it. Absolutely smitten.

He finally admits that he loves Crowley, and that he knows Crowley loves him back. How could he not?

And Michael does SUCH a good job of filling that line with pure, unadulterated love, it makes me want to bawl my eyes out.

Because this is Aziraphale saying “I see you care about me by caring about the things I care about, but I will be alright to leave it all behind if I have you by my side”. ALL IN THREE WORDS MICHAEL SHEEN ARE YOU KIDDING ME

But then, Crowley puts his glasses on. And he’s leaving, and he sounds hurt, and Aziraphale doesn’t understand why. He had heard Crowley’s monologue, and had called him to go with him, to be together, in Heaven.

So he tries again.

We’ve never seen Aziraphale this open about his feelings. He’s terrified to say it, but he does it anyway. He’s spilling out everything he’s been dealing with for literal thousands of years, and it must’ve taken so much courage to do so, and I can’t help but to be proud of him.

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animezinglife · 3 months

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Children of Fallen Gods is already a step up from Daughter of No Worlds in my opinion. Carissa seems to get better with each book she writes and once she hits her stride, she does so very well.

Max and Tisaanah's relationship feels much more authentic, emotional, and grounded in this one right off the bat.

I did think it was a tad rushed in the first one (I thought the tension was really starting to build a bit later on and didn't initially think they'd get together at all until the second book) and didn't have as much foundation as it could have, but that almost seems to be resolving itself somehow in this one. Like there are roots slowly taking hold in the story.

I'm only about a hundred pages in so far, so more thoughts to be continued...

#children of fallen gods #bookblr #the war of lost hearts #war of lost hearts #war of lost hearts spoilers #children of fallen gods spoilers #daughter of no worlds spoilers #carissa broadbent #I just really like her as an author in general.

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luriuan · 1 month

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imagine that custody of Percy's soul was divided - he spends one week a month in Elysium, the second in Valhalla/folkvanger, and the other in Seventh House, Aaru (Paradise).

Imagine Percy's soul sitting on a picnic blanket in folkvanger chewing blue fries and having a nice conversation with other fallen warriors. Then Anubis arrives, Percy gets up, dusts off his clothes, says goodbye to everyone and is put into a palanquin to be delivered to Aaru.

By the way, he is treated everywhere as a member of the royal family, because they asked very convincingly for his comfort and joy.

I CAN SEE IT TBH… Plus then he could visit his friends from other pantheons and have everyone be content with how Percy’s death arrangements are. Plus for Valhalla week maybe Percy would be allowed to roam, his friends would love that too.

Him hanging out with the Magnus chase gang and other Valhalla residents, then just casually going to another afterlife is such a funny mental image

“Yeah sorry I gotta go to Aaru rn…”

“Huh?”

Yeah!! And not to mention, Percy is also technically Prince of the seas too, that combined with the fact he’s friends with Carter Kane (who, spoilers, is literally king of the gods) and Magnus chase, who helped save the world. He’s DEFINITELY treated like royalty, especially in the Greek and Egyptian afterlives. You cannot tell me they wouldn’t love him there.

Imagine the conversation and how that went between Samirah, Anubis, and Thanatos.

“I have orders from Odin to take his soul to Valhalla immediately.”

“That sucks, really. But I have commands from the king of the gods to take his soul to Aaru. No offense.”

“Sucks for you too, Hades AND his children need Percy in Elysium.” And then just awkward silence. Percy’s soul is sooo confused. (Then Anubis, Odin, and Hades have a custody battle. No Percy does not get a say. Yes Hades warns them that Percy WILL escape his afterlife if he doesn’t like it/gets a bit too worried about his friends.)

Ty for the ask, and have a wonderful day!!!

#Ty for the ask!#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #the kane chronicles #magnus chase

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voidscreamintheories · 2 days

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HtP theory D: Who is he really? 2 of 2

This is a continuation from a first post, Spoilers for Hunter the Parenting

Speaking of his age, a few characters have called out D as looking old, decrepit, frail, or sickly. Despite the fact that we see a golden god of a man who honestly looks younger than at least one of his purported children. I don’t think this is wholly wrong on both fronts. You see, there is a particular group in World of Darkness who can only hang around on the normal plane of existence by inhabiting the bodies of the frail, the sick, or the dying. Because I think the D in Big D stands for Demon.

In the World of Darkness, specifically the game Demon the Fallen, “demons” are angels who sided with Lucifer against God. They were cast down into hell, where their angelic forms where forever marred by the torment in the depths. Sometimes, they can make their way out of the pit and back into our world. As mentioned before, and would be the case for the average DtF character, many slip into the body of someone who has a weak grip on their soul and is close to death. From there the demon can either try to redeem themselves, and perhaps find a way back to heaven, or they can just embrace what they have become and be a complete menace on earth. Now in DtF, the ability for demons to come back to earth ON THEIR OWN is VERY recent. However, I think D is a demon who was called to earth by a group somewhat akin to the shaman of his previous life, put into the body of some frail person of a bygone age, and has been trying to reclaim his angelic nature by becoming a protector of mankind from the creatures of the World of Darkness.

Some notes around this:

-In his conversation with Kitten, D mentions hunting a methusala of the La Sombre vampire clan with his siblings. I’m of two minds here, this could mean the children of the shaman-like summoners (if he has a VERY close origin to Big E) or it could mean other fallen angels, who like D are seeking redemption through monster hunting. It would make a lot more sense for a group of former angels to kill an ancient vamp than a family of hunters. This would require though that these summoners pulled a few angels up from the pit, so not sure.

-As for why some see him as old or frail, I think sometimes either the mask slips (maybe because D is stressed, or his angelic nature is weakened) or some level of supernatural ability allows them to see past the angelic personage and into the frail human body beneath. Two of the people who have called him old have either been Tremere or Tremere ghouls, and as I understand some vampire blood magic allows one to see past illusions/veils (and sometimes ghouls get lil bits of power from their vampire blood supply). I looked this one up, it’s the vampire discipline of Auspex, which the Tremere clan does have access to.

-Remold. Remold mentions that Big D’s family and his family have been enemies for generations. If my theory that D is an immortal goofster who has been around for a long time holds true, maybe it’s not so much that the Blacklaws have been at odds with D’s family, but instead against D himself, repeatedly antagonizing them as a living bloodline curse. This might explain his interest in Brok in the recent episode: D knows that once Remold has his Chekhov’s gun of a heart attack, Brok becomes the next Blacklaw that D will be fighting at all times. Why is D antagonizing this family? Well it could be an attempt to beef up some human hunters: If an entire family is constantly having to battle this one madman, and they know of the supernatural, they might become good soldiers against the darkness. Or maybe the Blacklaws have historically been opponents of hunters, Remold does seem to be against knowledge obtained through Big D’s hunts, Brok probably wouldn’t put a lot of time or effort into learning, if previous behaviour is to be believed. Maybe the Blacklaws are anti-intellectual in their history, and D wants to fight them so they can’t dismantle the arcanum or stop hunters by being ignorant. Now, there is a particular lil blue fella that I think bears mentioning, but I would like to discuss that in more detail in its own post, because I think there is a lot to dig into.

Also, quite a while ago I read someone suggest that D in Big D actually stood for Death, as in the rider of the apocalypse, since he does have a horse. This is a neat idea, but I do not know enough about WoD’s story of revelation to be able to discuss it. If this one turns out true, it’d be cool.

For now, thank you for reading this far. As always please let me know your thoughts, and if you are someone who was really engaged with WoD during the original runs, especially Demon the Fallen, please gimme your thoughts. I have a great interest in this setting, but it is very difficult to find info because it was in MANY old books.

As always, good evening.

#fan theory #h:tp #htp #hunter the parenting #hunter: the parenting #htp big d

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levelofyoureye · 11 months

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since beating jedi survivor, i haven’t stopped thinking about kata: her relationship to the mantis crew, the effect that the ending will have on her, and the role she might play in the third game…

(jedi survivor spoilers ahead)

i don’t think there’s any doubt that she’s going to have a big role. but at the same time, i also don’t know what exactly it’s going to be yet. my initial thought was that in the next installment, cal takes her on as an apprentice and decides to train her in the ways of the force. i mean, kata is likely force sensitive—it makes sense, right? and we’ve seen how well games that have an older mentor/younger child dynamic (i.e. god of war, the last of us) do.

but the more i thought about it, the more that i start to suspect that isn’t going to be the case.

something i’m realizing the more i reflect on his character is that cal is probably hesitant to take kata on for multiple reasons. at the end of the game, bode gives his life doing what he’s convinced will be best for kata. though we as an audience obviously know that this isn’t likely what’s actually best, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s convinced of this and dies for it. before cal kills him, he even asks: “when the empire comes, will you be able to protect my little girl?” bode betraying cal doesn’t mean that cal didn’t see him as the brother he never had. he only kills bode when he refuses to stand down, and to an extent he probably understands that bode is driven by the desire to protect the people he loves. i think that now that bode is gone, cal is going to feel the need to be kata's protector. and we all saw the vision he had in fallen order of what would happen to the force sensitive children he took under his wing—dead at the hands of the empire, and he was unable to protect them. it's a risk that he probably won't want to take with kata, just like he didn't want to take it with all of those children.

another factor that i think will make cal hesitant to teach her is that he's fighting his own internal battle. he first taps into the dark side on nova garon, and though merrin is able to break through to him then, he doesn't stop using it throughout the rest of the game. he almost loses himself completely to the darkness, which he even admits in the final scene. and merrin tells him that he'll never be alone, that he has his chosen family to guide him back to the light. but even then, there's a reason that jedi ban attachments. who's to say that he won't eventually turn to the darkness because he wants to protect his family? it's what ended up happening to bode, and obviously what happened to anakin (though cal doesn't know this). throughout cal's journey, we see him fight several fallen jedi—trilla suduri, taron malicos, masana tide, bode akuna, and dagan gera. he knows how easily a jedi can turn, how easily they can use their gifts and abilities for the worse. and the thought that it could happen to him, that it did almost happen to him, frightens him. his struggle with the dark side isn't going to end with this game, and he'll probably battle with it for a while. in what world would he ever be fit to be a mentor when he's still struggling not to lose himself? cere tells cal at the end of the game to guide kata through the darkness—but how could he possibly do this when he isn't even able to guide himself?

kata is still a young child, not even ten years old yet. her father is gone, and the memories that he'll leave behind for her are likely complicated. i mean, in his own rage and in his effort to protect her in the final fight against cal, he ends up hurting her. she's grown up with her father constantly being on missions and leaving her by herself, distancing her from him in the process. at the same time, she also acknowledges that the death of her mother changed him for the worse. and she doesn't know the full extent of bode's horrible actions. she begs him to back down in the final fight not because she sees him as evil, but because she knows that if he doesn't, she's going to lose her father too. this leaves me to wonder—how is she going to remember him? and how will it affect her relationship with cal? kids who lose their parents often want to remember them in a good light. not always, but it isn't a rare occurrence. and i wouldn't doubt it if that's what kata chooses to do going forward. though she befriends the mantis crew afterwards and doesn't explicitly hold a grudge against them for killing her father, i think that the underlying pain and grief of losing a parent is still there. cal and merrin kill her father right in front of her. that isn't something that anyone could ever expect to fully recover from. and that isn't something that just goes away, especially with kata being so young and having to process it as she grows up.

i'm not saying that kata is going to be the main villain of the next game, or that she's going to grow up to despise the mantis crew. but i think it's very likely that her relationship with them is going to be somewhat strained as she tries to make sense of who her father was and the decisions he made for her. maybe she's angry with cal for never telling her the full extent of what her father did, or maybe she's angry with herself for being the catalyst of his betrayal. either way, i do not see her just simply being okay and completely moving on from everything that's happened to her the same way that i do not see cal just simply being okay and moving on from his battle against the darkness. they're both going to struggle in the next game, and i think it's going to affect their relationship to each other drastically.

#i am not ready for the third game at all #i will be in so much pain the entire time #cal kestis #bode akuna #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor #merrin #nightsister merrin #bd 1 #greez dritus #jedi fallen order #star wars #ea star wars #respawn #kata akuna

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t-horn-n · 1 year

Text

— he who wears the crown of thorns

PAIRING: peter ballard/henry creel x reader (female)

GENRE: angst, h.end

WARNINGS: canon-level violence, allusions to substance (mis)use

Stranger Things S4 spoilers.

SUMMARY: when you are injured in the lab, peter must finally admit what your relationship is.

NOTE: I have exhausted the well of Peter Ballard fanfiction, so I decided to write my own.

If you were one for poetics, you would craft the story of Hawkin’s Lab into a drama, or more likely, a tragedy. Peter Ballard Henry Creel the hero, a fallen king who wears a crown of thorns around his neck. And Martin Brenner, the arrogant mortal who tries to wield a god’s power.

What does that make you? Once, you may have simply been the narrator. An outsider who felt obliged to tell the story of those who could not tell it themselves. But now? As time has passed, are you the fallen king’s guardian angel? His pawn, a subject made to be ruled? His friend? Or his lover?

It is not yet clear.

What is certain is that you are entangled with him as though you have been ensnared by invisible threads, as unnoticeable as fishermen’s line, but as strong as spiders’ silk. To Henry your presence in the lab has been as permanent as the white-tiled walls. Though you are his age, you have been there since the beginning—to lend some normalcy into his life, Brenner had claimed. Though, surely, you are not so ignorant as to believe anything about Henry is normal.

Nonetheless, you are a constant in Peter Ballard’s life. A rock that has stood even as Martin Brenner’s forest grew. Peter became taller, older, more deceitful. Together you raised the doctor’s saplings, fostered them with sunlight in the form of smiles.

And now, your relationship?

Well, it’s simple in its complexity. It’s peculiar in its secretiveness. Your private grins and unspoken jokes and the strange way you store a piece of your weird, mangled souls in each other.

But Brenner gets high off control. If not, what need does he have for the collars? The cameras? The rules? And when he loses his grip he suffers from withdrawal. And he can be so very cruel when he does not get his fix.

For a while, he pretended that that attraction did not exist. He chose not to see the proximity because with all of the power Brenner tells himself he possesses comes laziness.

“Don’t you think that if we all lined up on a checkerboard we would look like oversized chess pieces?” you murmur to Peter one afternoon—or at least that is what the clock claims—in the Rainbow Room.

The two of you stand against the wall with the twin doors, facing the mirror with its reflection of your white uniforms and a dozen shaved heads.

He chuckles quietly in amusement, the kind only you can earn. “If that’s the case, that would make us the King and Queen.”

You smile and your hands inch together. A fingernail brushes against a fingernail, but a pinprick of red light bores into your forehead and you do not dare to do anything more than whisper.

Brenner may be lazy, but he can also be sly and sneaky.

Two of the younger children colour on pristine sheets of paper. Flowers and suns, things they have never seen for themselves, are conjured from the coloured wax of the crayons they hold. Eleven drops a red disk into a numbered peg board, again and again. Two, Three, and Four toss a bean bag between them. Anything to cure their boredom.

Suddenly, the door is pushed open. It is not Martin Brenner, so the children do not rise. They continue their puttering and only the oldest look to see who caused the disturbance. Another Orderly addresses Peter.

“Your shift is over. I am here to take your place.”

Peter smiles, his beautiful lips stretched thin.

“I’ve been assigned a double shift today. Don’t worry about me, Ballard,” you say to his hesitance.

He smiles again and now his eyes crinkle too. Then he leaves and you are left to stand with this Orderly on opposite sides of the steel door as though the lab is the prison Brenner tries so hard to deny. You avoid staring at your own reflection because you have found that if you look at yourself for too long your reflection will become unrecognisable. And then the person across from you is alien, and will certainly drive you mad.

Before your thoughts can run around your head in dizzying loops, the children start yelling. Two and Three have stalked over to where Ten kneels surrounded by a fortress of blocks. Wooden walls will not protect him from entitlement.

“Move,” Two demands.

For a moment, Ten does not reply and you think he will ignore Two—that he will weather this onslaught. The silence permeates and is only broken by a soft whirring as the camera stationed in the corner of the room angles to watch the performance unfold.

For that same moment, you do not know what to do. Brenner has never liked Orderly interference in his children’s matters, always eager to see the extent of their capabilities, and of their rage. But then again, he will be undoubtedly upset if one of his assets is damaged.

“No,” Ten says.

In a swift movement Two kicks his block towers and they go sprawling on the floor. You and the other Orderly rush forward as Two takes Ten by his collar, yanking him up so quickly that he is not allowed time to yell, and his toes barely brush the tile.

“Say again?” Two snarls.

“Two, your behaviour is—” you start.

Two thrusts an arm outwards and the other Orderly flies backwards and into several chairs. You do not move. A rock.

Perhaps Two would have been surprised if he were not so busy spitting in the other boy’s face. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

Ten’s face hardens defiantly and you are almost envious. Where was this courage when you were a child? Did you lack Ten’s bravery or the fodder of the other children?

Two swings hard and his fist meets Ten’s cheek because in a deranged rage he must have forgotten that he is always being watched—or is the true reason more sinister?—and Ten is on the floor. Blood runs down his face and stains his teeth. Two appears drunk from adrenaline.

A grin is spreading across his face, arrogant and smug. But from the ground Ten throws a wooden block at his face. It cuts his eyebrow, its point digging into his skin and now he too is bleeding. Again, Two lunges forward like he is about to commit murder, but you are there, holding his shoulders and trying to push him against the wall. His hands fly up, your face stings as Two drags his fingernails across your skin.

Your fellow Orderly has since recovered and is holding Ten’s arms behind his back as though in the past three minutes the child has been traded for a criminal.

“Let go of me!” Two yells.

Your lips press together.

Startlingly, the doors fling open, Martin Brenner has arrived. Now, the children all jolt and stand in their lines.

“Hello, Papa,” they greet.

Even Two’s anger has waned in the presence of the doctor.

He speaks to the other Orderly first. “Please escort Two and Ten to the infirmary. I will have a chat with them later.”

Then he looks directly at you and juvenile fear seizes you, the kind you should have grown out of. “Come.”

You release Two. Approaching Brenner you do not look at the children, you try to relax your shoulders and raise your chin. Peter would not be afraid, you remind yourself. Brenner grasps your wrist in a handcuff not made of metal but flesh. Roughly, he pulls you from the Rainbow Room and down the hallway.

“You are here to protect them, Y/N, and today, you have failed to do that.”

There is no point in protesting nor is there a reason to sputter apologies. Simply, you allow him to drag you through the corridors of Hawkin’s Lab.

A collar of metal and wires is fixed around your neck, a bite guard in your mouth. You sit in a chair and an electrical shock races through your veins. Your nerves alight and already perspiration beads at your hairline.

Humiliation as you slide from the chair because your muscles spasm and you see Peter watching behind glass with an expression that discloses nothing. But in his eyes, you see horror. You tell yourself that you are not crying, and that the water that turns your vision bleary is the natural reaction to your situation.

Pain as your legs commit treason and kick in odd directions.

You count to yourself the seconds that pass. It is all manageable if the time you suffer is compartmentalised. When it is over and Brenner has left and Orderlies have taken the collar from your neck, Peter gathers you into his arms. He tucks his head into your neck and whispers into your ear. He does not tell you that you are okay because obviously you are not.

“I’m sorry.”

Still, your fingers twitch. Your head jerks periodically while your feet tingle.

He does not apologise again. He does not need to. Now it is certain that what you are extends past labels.

“They will not control us forever,” he promises. “Soon we will rule them all.”

Perhaps Henry Creel still wears barbs like a necklace, but his pledges to you are like a crown of thorns placed over your brow. Those who wear the crown of thorns will not be caged for long.

— m. list

#peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #henry creel #henry creel x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #peter ballard fanfiction #henry creel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #001 #001 fanfiction #001 x reader #x female reader #peter ballard x female reader

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ghostsy · 2 years

Text

Honey

WARNINGS: yandere, implied abuse, possessiveness, mentions of death, nsfw, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping, manga spoilers (?)

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! DABI X READER

In his defense, he didn’t know she would be there.

His morbid curiosity had gotten the better of him one day, and he found himself wandering down to that forgotten grave to dwell in memories that belonged to a boy he once knew. It wasn’t nostalgia. No.

To be honest, he was feeling bitter. Maybe he’d piss on it, one more fuck you to the man who’d built him--only to throw him away like an old toy when he’d found one newer and shinier--it was his birthday, after all. He thought he deserved some sort of present, at the very least.

What he wasn’t expecting was her. In her pretty little sundress, with her pretty little flowers, crying pretty little tears. His stomach twisted in an emotion he thought he had long buried. He didn’t like it.

Why was she crying? Why was she shedding tears for a boy she knew almost a decade ago? It was pathetic. It made him angry. What gave her the right to be here?

The flowers she wove as decoration were too white, too pure. It almost burned his eyes. He watched as she lit the incense, hands clasping together in prayer. A sick spark of amusement lit in his chest.

It was like a shrine. He wondered, if he made himself known to her now, would she drop to her knees in reverence? And would she part those pouty lips to serve her God, to please him?

He was getting carried away. She wasn’t his to fantasize about, not anymore. For the first time in years, he felt the seed of nostalgia plant itself in his chest. The boy had had his sweet, cotton candy memories, was able to cherish the feeling of her lips on his, and the satisfaction of knowing that he was the only one to know her in that way.

The boy had been granted the privilege to know what it was like to love her, to be loved by her. It didn’t matter that they were children, too naive to understand the horror of the world they’d been forced into.

Maybe it was better because of it. Innocence in the form of a drop of golden honey fallen from the heavens, a taste he’d never have the pleasure of feeling on his tongue again.

Though, maybe he’d be able to taste a different kind of honey. She’d come to him so sweetly, after all. He wondered if she visited his empty grave every year. Of course she did. She was always good like that, kind and innocent, and so soft.

The seed of nostalgia grew, as everything inside him always did, into something darker. If he couldn’t get cotton candy memories, and an innocent love that tasted like honey, he’d settle for something a little more his speed.

Everything he ever touched burned to ash, but the fire was a kaleidoscope of color that he was sure would make it worth burning to ash with her. Didn’t he deserve at least this?

The world was big, and cold, and angry. The world was filled with bears who stole children’s honey, and drank it with razor sharp fangs peeking from underneath too sharp smiles. Fangs that bit, crushing cotton candy memories between bloody teeth, and spit out the sugar.

But she still looked so good, so sweet. He briefly wondered if the world had spared her from breaking underneath its deadly jaws. But the shudders that wracked her body as she knelt in the dirt of the grave of a boy she loved snuffed the thought from his mind. No. He realized that he had dragged her head first into the bloody mouth of despair. The little boy who’s empty grave was watered with her tears had been the one to ruin her.

For once, he wasn’t to blame. After all, he had left her alone. He had moved on. The boy was dead, and his ghost had but one goal. He was on a warpath of vengeance, heart torn from between translucent ribs. And even so, a ghost with no heart was still a ghost. This walking corpse had no place in her life now. And yet. It made him angry. The tainted sprout in his chest bloomed with resentment.

The boy got his cotton candy memories. The boy got his taste of golden honey, was able to drown deliriously in it, at least for a time. And then he had died, dragging down the girl he loved, and buried her heart in his empty coffin.

And what had he gotten? What had he inherited, but an existence so cold, it burned more than the blue of his fire ever could? He knew he was damned. That the fires of hell could barely singe him when it came to the flames he was able to unleash. A creature dark, and ugly, and empty. Clouds of insanity overcast any hope of redemption he would find. He knew this. And yet.

She would forgive him. She had loved the boy; she could learn to love him too. And if not, the ability to feel the silk of her skin beneath his scarred fingertips was a welcome consolation prize.

He didn’t need redemption. He didn’t want it. But he was sure that he’d find heaven in the place between her legs, was sure it would taste of a type of honey less sweet, more tart, but ambrosia all the same. How silly of him to think he was the god between them.

Step after careful step, he crept forward. He had come to piss on the grave of a boy he hated; maybe he’d just fuck her over it instead. It was his birthday, after all.

She was kind, and she was good, and she was sweet. She was the one sunbeam breaking through the haze of insanity, and he’d be damned if he lost the light again.

He was close enough to see the details of her face now. The flower of resentment had wilted, petals melting into an emotion he vaguely registered as joy. Not pure, no, but unhinged joy is joy all the same.

Really, it was her fault for caring in the first place. It was the boy’s fault that she’d fallen victim to the cruel fangs of the world. He was simply reaping the benefit--if the boy had been the one to push her down despair’s jaws, he’d gladly be the one to swallow her.

Her brows knitted together as the sound of footsteps neared. Her chin lifted, hair swishing in the wind--he couldn’t wait to run his fingers through it, to pull, to tear--and stunned recognition washed over her face, brows furrowing and unfurrowing, not knowing whether to smile or to scream. Beautiful.

She whispered a name—long forgotten, but despised all the same—and it sounded like the most ancient of love poems coming from her lips.

He hadn’t known a beast like him could find a place to belong, but when he looked in her eyes, frozen in contradictory, terrified, mystified hope, he saw home.

#yandere bnha #yandere dabi #yandere todoroki touya #yandere x reader #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere touya #yandere x you #yandere toya #don't mind me

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someh0eontheinternet · 11 months

Text

Yelana x Obsessed fem.reader

(this is just a fanfic i wrote in two seconds and is purely a self insert because im OBSESSED with her but i hope u enjoy anyway haha 🌸🌸) (SEASON 4 SPOILERS) (no manga spoilers)

You became a scout because you needed the money. nothing more, nothing less. you weren't trying to chase after glory, or even protect the ones you loved.

all you wanted was to get your bag and go home.

luckily for you, your fighting skills were second to only the Ackerman's and you werent heartless enough to not put yourself in dangers way to save a comrade or two from the jaws of a titan. because of this, you were adored by the whole regiment due to the countless lives yourve saved in battle.

during the attack on Marley, and following your return to the flying blimp, you were greeted once again by your beloved comrades. you take a moment to silently count to yourself the number of soldiers around you and send a silent prayer to the ones who have fallen.

Interrupting your train of thought was a loud screech from the room over, that almost resembled a child. curious, you make your way over to the captain's den to find eren, levi, zeke, and two screaming children yelling about something you couldnt understand. Levi was the first to speak up...

"Y-n. I'm glad you're safe but this doesnt concern you. Please return to the other room."

You shrugged your shoulders and was about to turn to leave when a tall figure caught your eye.

"omg...omg....omg"

(sorry if this next part is cringe lol)

it was love at first sight. you lost control of your body as you speed walked over to her. she absolutely towered over you. she had to be 6'7 at least. you didnt even know women could get that tall ....

without thinking, you stand alarmingly close to her, taking her by surprise, and start speaking without thinking.

"oh my god....you are the most beautiful woman i have ever seen. everything about you is just so....handsome. your blond hair. your gorgeous grey eyes. even the way you're looking down at me. who on earth even are you!???" you look up at her with a sparkle in your eye that almost made the tall blond lose her composure, but she recovered.

She had never been complimented like this before. her whole life she had been told that she was a misfit and she was too 'masculine' to fit in. god....you really caught her off guard.

she tried to hide it however, her pride was too important.

"I....who i am is none of your business, soldier. i would advise you return to...."

she was cut off however by you moving your body closer you hers, your breasts pushing up against her chest, causing her cheeks to become a deep red.

"oh please pretty lady, no reason to be so harsh with pretty old me. i just wanted to tell you how beautiful you were".

"Well i um...*cough*" the tall woman looked away embarrassed.

hange entered the room and spoke up.

"come on yelena, you should give her more of a chance. this is y-n. one of our strongest and bravest soldiers. plus, she's cute as a button. practically all the boys in the servey corps have developed a crush on her one time or the other" hange chuckled as they entered the room.

"....hey, i havent" eren pouted in the corner, too embarrassed to be taken seriously.

"haha fucking loser" zeke said, mocking his little brother eren.

"hey! shut your trap Zeke" eren growled.

"hey back me up levi. tell yelena how good of a soldier y-n is" hange whined

"well...ive never seen anyone kick ass quite like her. even mikasa hesitated on the field, but y-n just shoved her blades right up their smelly asses"

"she did what..." yelena interrupted.

"pretty pleaseeeeee yelena darling. ive never liked any of these nobodies (eren: hey!) but you're special. please if you take my hand in yours i swear to love you until my last breath".

yelena looked away and pouted before swinging you up over her shoulder and walking out the room with you.

"we will be back later. and dont u dare disturb us."

*blush* *blush*

💕🌺💕🌺💕🌺💕🌺💕🌺

authors note:

im so sorry xDDDDD

#yelena #yelena aot #yelena x reader #yelena x femreader #yelena fanfic #yelena attack on titan

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multiverse-imagines · 1 year

Text

Forbidden_Hanyou of ao3 asked!

A request for my friend as there is not enough Wolfwood content? I was thinking maybe something where Wolfwood is an angel (a fallen one maybe?), and the reader is a demon? The forbidden love type deal? Not sure how they met, but would be nice to read something with a little fluff and angst

A/N: it gives Good Omens vibes ✨ love me a forbidden love trope! Also, this has a TriMax spoiler, as it uses TriMax continuity! (Not that it changed too much???) Just a warning!

Til the End of The Universe, I Guess

They've been a pain in my ass since The Fall. Not the one to Gunsmoke, but that one too I guess. The Fall that I mean is my fall from grace. I remember it almost too well. I remember the burning. It didn't matter that I was falling at thrice the average velocity, I was on fire.

My wings. The beautiful pearly wings I had once taken so much pride in, ones which I often received compliments on, crackled, popped and sizzled, turning a deep charcoal, nearly Raven black. The heat was so unbearable that I nearly passed out four times. The action itself maybe took a minute, but felt like a thousand years. I don't remember the impact.

When I awoke, I was in the bed of a small cottage. At my bedside tending to my wounds, was a demon of all things. I hated myself for gawking at the beauty they held, despite once being my immortal enemy on principle.

To the trained eye, you could tell their skin was a redder shade just off of that of a humans, a set of horns, also unable to be witnessed by humans, protruded from the back of their head, curving up over their head. The horns stopped just above their eyebrows, threatening to stab their eyes if they didn't cut off the ends of their horns. The ends were flat, and unsharpened. I had met a few demons in my day, but none so undemon-looking, and none so beautiful.

"Oh, you're awake." They spoke gently, as not to spook me, "Can you move? Flip over and I'll get your back." They turned to me revealing a goopy mixture in a small wooden bowl.

"What is that?" My voice, now hoarse, growled at them.

"A mixture of Divine water and Lily of the Desert." It was then I noticed they were wearing thick arm and hand coverings. Such a holy mixture would surely burn my newly acquired caretaker, yet they were still willing to tend to my wounds.

"I got most of your visible form while you were asleep, but I was unable to start on your wings. Can you move well? Can you lay on your stomach?" They asked. Noting I could move with only a minimal ache in my newly human body, I flipped over into my stomach, propping myself up with the pillow that was once under my head.

"So… What's your name, Little Angel?" They asked as I felt the mixture being pressed to my butchered wings.

"I guess in the human's language it would be- tch! Ow!" I spat at a tender spot, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood."

"Quite the fancy name, Mr. Wolfwood." Their giggle sounded like the chimes of clashing metal before they spoke their own name to me.

"Ah, Sunspot." I mused.

"Excuse me?"

"Sunspot. I'm really bad with names, so I give nicknames to remember people by." A lie of course. It was because it would hurt more when they became a target in God's efforts to continue my suffering. If I don't invoke their real name, they can't be targeted.

After my wounds healed, Sunspot and I would pal around for a century or two. Thankfully my human vessel didn't age at all, meant to prolong my suffering, yet I was grateful to have such a healthy and nimble body. We would often move from place to place like the gypsies, and often pose as a couple.

We would spend our nights talking about our memories until I could no longer remain conscious. They would often give the food they posed to eat to those who could not afford food. Despite their human appearance, their visage was merely a façade. They could reveal their horns and other devilish traits at will. Meanwhile my wings could only be seen by those with gifted sight, like small children, or those bothered by spirits.

When I began to forget things. Little things, like that chateau we called home in Brazil, or the mountain we climbed in the Alps, I began to keep a diary of all I could remember. I filled book after book with whatever language I wanted, often mixing them together as I found a word that best fit every intention.

Good luck to anyone who finds it though. Unless they know every language from Spanish to Cuneiform, there's no telling how long it would take them to crack the inconsistent and nonexistent code. I fear that even I may forget how to read my own diaries someday.

We decided to leave Europe to check out the North American continent, particularly this new little colony of New England. We explored the lands that had yet to be bought by these colonizers, and interacted with the local animals and the native people.

One of the tribe's medicine men was very interested in my relationship with Sunspot. He saw me as a Raven Spirit, and Sunspot as one of the creation deities. I insisted that we weren't in a romantic relationship, nor anything to be worshiped, but he seemed to see us differently.

"Your fates are intertwined so strongly, It will never break." He also suggested that we leave this continent, because those settlers would be causing nothing but trouble, just like the Spaniards in the south. We heeded his words and went back to Brazil for quite some time.

It was the early 1930's when we found ourselves up in southern Canada. We had a little place near Niagara Falls, able to cross the border into the United States as we pleased.

I remember a conversation we once had in the early 1990's as our legs were tangled up on the couch one night while the TV played something to fill the void.

"So… I've known you for a while now, and I gotta ask. Why are you on Earth? Why haven't you gone back to hell, Sunspot?" I asked them. It was a question that had always been on my mind. They always seemed content by my side, and never left this realm, as far as I was ever aware.

"Ah… well, they kicked me out of hell. I… I tried to have people's judgements revisited after they had repented. But… I was told that once you're in hell, you have to stay there. You don't get to move on to reincarnation or get a second chance. "The God of second chances, huh? What a bogus line o' lingo." They said, obviously hanging around their human friends too much,

"I tried to help those seeking repentance no matter what layer I was moved to. Eventually, I was barred from my home. Even the hottest of places up here are too cold. I spent a week inside the magma of a volcano, and only ended up with igneous rocks formed in places I don't wanna talk about." They shook their head, hating the memory,

"That's why I always wear clothes as if I'm freezing, because I am." They said lifting the baggy sleeves of their thick sweater they wore.

"Ah, so that's why you insist on constantly sharing body heat." I smirked, I moved to lay on top of them, I heard them give a light giggle as they pet my wings with one hand, and my hair with the other.

On a vacation to Greece, where the Pantheon we hailed from feared to tread, we sat on a beach shoreline, as the moon began to cross in front of the sun.

"I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together." I found myself getting sentimental, "I think there's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my damnation with."

"Aw, Nicky, you're just saying that." They rolled their eyes.

"No, I mean it." I said, cradling their face, and softly speaking their name. Something I never said, "I wanna spend the rest of eternity with you. I love you." My eyes begged for them to feel the same way. Sunspot could see it.

"I love you too, Nicholas. I always feel warmer by your side." They smiled, leaning in for our first kiss as the moon covered the sun, darkening the sky. The Gods could not see us here. This short moment of bliss was ours and ours alone.

We had spent nearly a thousand years together. It was in the 2300's when we boarded the seed ships. On the ship we slept, our pods next to each other. But it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

The familiar heat awoke me as my pod was falling. My pod was near the flaming exterior of the ship. I don't remember this impact either.

I awoke in a hospital bed. But Sunspot was not at my side this time. A nurse who still looked as banged up as me tended to my wounds. I asked where Sunspot was, asking them by name. They hadn't seen or heard of them.

It was a lonely first few years. I stumbled from colony to colony trying to find Sunspot. There was no way they died in the crash. They couldn't have. They could stand such hellish temperatures, the crash would have been nothing to them…. But what about the impact?

In my adventures, I found a pair of young boys out on their own. Twins with blonde hair and blue eyes. We shared a meal, and then departed the next morning. Just a simple case of: same place, same time coincidence. How wrong I was.

The next time I saw one of them, the Little Needle Noggin was chained up to a post, passed out from blood loss from apparently having his arm cut off. I brought him to the floating ship I had seen. They could care for him better than I ever could. Besides, I had to keep searching. They graciously accepted him, still wondering how I had gotten up there. I was relieved my wings still worked.

Along the way, I picked up this large cross shaped gun I called The Punisher. As I looked for Sunspot, I made cash as a mercenary. My gun was powerful, and my determination to find my lover was stronger.

I thought I had seen the last of Needle Noggin when one day, I saw him all grown up. I had made the mistake of thinking he would stay on the ship. Here he was roaming around once again. His eyes were sad as he walked.

But.. wait… that had been nearly fifty years since I took him to the floating ship. How did he still appear to be in his twenties? There had been something off about him and his brother. Where was that little shit, anyways? I let him be for the time being.

I had been walking for a hundred iles before passing out in the desert. I felt myself get pulled into a bus, and given water.

"Oh wow! Thank the Lord, I'm saved!" I played up my preacher persona I'd acquired over the years. And there he was again. That Needle Noggin boy, still a young man, yet another fifty years later he had to be well into his hundred and thirties by now. Just what was he?

"So, what's your name, stranger?" He asked.

"The name's Nicholas D Wolfwood! Preacher, Undertaker, at your service!" I smiled. His friends who sat next to him outed the Needle Noggin as Vash the Stampede. Hm, who would have thought? I made some jokes about taking the money for myself, but they had no merit to them.

I traveled with Vash for a while. He allowed me to take the time to see the beauty in this world, and the charm of its people I had been ignoring for the past hundred and thirty years.

A year passed by, and Vash and I sat in his room, drinks in hand. I had just found out he was a plant from an incident the day prior.

"I knew you weren't human. I just didn't know how." I said, taking a drink.

"And that goes the same for you, Wolfwood. I remember you. That night, that Knives and I had dinner with you. I still remember that."

"I'm much older than you, Needle Noggin. You don't wanna know what I am or what I'm doing here."

"That's not really fair, now is it?" Vash knocked back another shot. I rolled my eyes and told him. My fall, Sunspot, living on earth, falling to No Man's Land, and my eternal search for them.

"Don't tell anyone. I don't deserve to be worshiped, or adored as an Angel. I'm just as much a sinner as the rest of humanity is."

"You got to live on Earth though… that must have been super cool…" Vash slurred, lying his head on the table. He passed out shortly after, probably dreaming about what I told him. I took the last shot of the bottle we had left, and went to bed.

In a little town, we walked down the street, chatting away, when a person caught my eye. Someone who looked human to all of those around them, but I knew. I could see the little horns that curved over their head.

"Sunspot!" I yelled louder than anything I had ever yelled before, running to them. Their face turned to shock, a wide smile crept across their face that mirrored mine.

"Nicholas!" They ran to me, jumped into my arms, and I twirled them before setting them down again, tears falling down my face.

"Oh my God I thought I'd never find you!" I hugged them again to make sure this was real. They were really here, in my arms.

"I'm sorry that I ever stopped. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to feel like I had a home again."

"No, you're okay, you're here now. I didn't want to think you had died. I knew it couldn't be possible." I pressed many sultry kisses to their lips, whispering their name to them between each kiss, as I had longed to do for so long.

We must have looked like a mess in the streets, crying, and kissing as if we hadn't seen each other in over a century. But it was true. A hundred and thirty years apart felt worse than my burning wings, or any gunshot wound I had ever received.

We eventually regained ourselves, and made our way to their house, where they lived alone. They had never married, and spent their time painting places we had been to in our time together to cope. They had many paintings they often gave to friends, or to museums. They used a psuedo name of course.

"So, is this where we part, Wolfwood?" Vash asked, after he'd finished looking at all of the paintings.

"I'm not sure yet. I'd go anywhere, as long as Sunspot is there." I still held their hand. They smiled up to me, then to their paintings.

"I've been cooped up in this house for too long. I'm ready for an adventure. Why don't we travel for a bit, then we can return here so you can finally rest?" Sunspot gave a radiant smile, brighter than any sun in the galaxy.

"I'd be honored to have your help. Vash and I are cleaning up his own family life. We can teach his bratty older brother a lesson in what it truly means to fall from grace." I stroked their cheek, "You can finally rehabilitate the biggest sinner on all of Gunsmoke…"

"But you don't need rehabilitation, Belovéd." They gave a snarky smile.

"Holy Hell, I've missed you." I have a tired smile, absolutely flabbergasted at their audacity.

#trigun #trigun brain rot #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #fallen angel au #trimax spoilers

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