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mrsrookhunt · 1 year

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Primal | pt. 1

Lovecraft X Reader

Mating with Lovecraft

Warnings: Fem reader, Animalistic mating, mating rituals, intense pain, breeding, inhuman pregnancy, offerings/human sacrifice, it's basically Lovecraft's backstory; this is so ooc I don't even care lovecraft never gets any attention and this idea has been rolling around in my head for MONTHS so I just gave up and wrote it as fast as possible

18+

When you first agreed to be Howard's partner, you didn't know how deep this went. You had joked, to yourself, before that he was not human, but with a book in hand, and a small smile on his face after you jokingly agreed to be his 'mate'-- because he was joking, right?-- Was that such an improbability?

The book he handed you looked older than time immemorial, but he didn't seem too concerned with its weak bindings as he shoved it into your lap.

"Long... have I awaited to give this to a human. It has been so long... I am glad to have a mate."

"A.. mate? My Howie... tell me what you're going on about."

His face fell and paled a bit.

"I should start from the beginning, from the history of my species." He shifts to hold you in his tentacles, like he's fearful that you might run away.

"Several thousand years ago, there was some sort of... anomaly. A genetic mutation of sorts, or as it's told in the stories.. no one knows what happened. But five of us, the forebearers of our race, were born." He looks at you for permission to continue, and you silently nod for him to keep going, curling yourself into his lap.

He isn't used to story telling, always a man of few words, and seems almost anxious about continuing.

He clears his throat.

"There ar--" a flash of pain crosses his face, clearing his throat to cover up his mistake. "There were 5 factions of us, from each one. At first, we were fruitful. We took human mates, and in the right communities.. we had no need to care for ourselves, since humans bowed in fear to us, providing us food, shelter, and offerings to mate with... Each faction thrived differently, some on showing kindness to humans, some relied on taking several mates to procreate, and others, like mine, were considered the barbarian factions, uncivilized and unable to adapt to human behaviors the way the rest of our kin were."

He glanced at his arms, eyeing the spot where the human skin met his monstrous green flesh; already toeing the line between human and animal in just one physical line, one that must have controlled him internally just as strong.

"Of course, this is why we were dying out. As fast as the tides rolled, my faction began to die out, from an inability to find mates, to fatal feuds with the others."

He looked the most emotional you'd ever seen him, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes as words tumbled from his lips with a passion you'd never heard before. You rubbed his chest, snuggling with a stray thicker tentacle of his to calm him. You poked the suckers gently while he composed himself.

"We weren't feared anymore by the turn of the century, as a species, as scientific doubts began to plague the minds of humans. They stopped providing for us, as their ancestors had. We... were so reliant. Too reliant. The other factions adapted beautifully to meeting their own needs, as fast as they had to reliant life, and there was a time of bliss for them as they assimilated into human life. We came a long way. Even my faction developed the ability to take human forms, despite being the last to develop such a thing. Speech came next, and then social skills. While we weren't advanced... we were ok."

You saw it now, the way his own form aligned with his story. He was too tall, too gaunt, couldn't speak well, spoke too deep and too slow. He was advanced, but not as advanced as a human.

He licked his lips, preparing to continue.

"There was... a drop off. I can't explain it myself; I don't know the cause." He mumbled with a sigh. "Suddenly, my entire species, every faction... was dying out, in mass numbers. Perhaps it was some unknown sickness, or some vile poison. But most of our species... died off. And those who were able to reproduce became few and far between."

He paused, looking the most distressed he had thus far. He made eye contact with you, fear and pain spearing into your soul. This was something you'd never seen from him before. So much pure pain.

"I was one of the very last offspring. There used to be thousands of us on the breeding grounds at any given time, and yet me and ten other young were being drilled by the few remaining elders the importance of our birth. Out of eleven of us, only four were viable. Seven were female, who cannot bear children of our species nor pass on our genes. It was a time of great distress."

You grumbled into his side sadly. This was a mass tragedy of extinction for his species. He rubbed your head a bit, sqeezing his tentacles tighter around you.

"Howie..."

He huffs. "It... doesn't end there."

He sighs to himself, looking down at his lap, avoiding your eyes.

"Two of the males died. It was me, and one other left."

You squeezed onto his pants. "For.. the entire species?"

He nodded back at you, eyes now blank and emotionless as usual.

"Yes, just me and one other. Unfortunately... we only truly mate once. We can have multiple breedings with multiple people, but we only take one mate. And while we could be considered immortal, when we take a mate, we limit our lives. When our mate dies, we follow shortly. The other... a distant cousin of mine, was eager to breed. He took a mate within a few weeks of being allowed to breed by our species' standards. She died during the mating process. There were only about 25 of us left, and only him and me were viable to breed, everyone else having already been mated and past the age of bearing young for humans, and so, we all knew that he would die.

I can't say I've ever wept more tears than I did the day the news of her death was delivered. None of us ever cried more. This was essentially the end of our species as we knew it. We were mourning a dead man who was still alive, and he mourned only for her, his mate. It's death by a broken heart." He admonished curtly, like he was trying to pull the words from his heart without stuttering.

You'd never heard Howard speak with such passion and intensity before.

Tears pricked at your own eyes.

"And what about you, Howie? You still have a chance, you can still--"

"No." He shakes his head with a sadness you could never begin to comprehend. "I cannot revive my species. I am just one man, one who was never expected to mate to begin with, due to my poor heritage from the most despised faction, and my unwillingness to take a mate in my breeding prime, after what happening with my mother, and then my cousin."

"Your mother...?" You whisper quietly, words hanging on the air.

"My..." He cringe, eyebrows coming to a deep furrow. "Ughck... father.. knew his importance to the species, and was more assimilated to human mannerisms than even some of the most skilled of our kind. He didn't inform my mother of his true species and her importance until the night before the wedding, with the expectation that he would mate with her on the wedding night. Our mating.... is a horrible thing. I'll let you read up on it yourself, but.. essentially, this book--"

He gently tapped on the worn leather book you had forgotten you were holding, releasing you from his tentacles.

"Is a record of every written and recorded mating and birthing experience for my faction. It is passed from mate to mate, so you will know what to expect. My father simply dropped a note explaining her role to him, and the book, at her door on the night before the wedding. The wedding... was one big trap. It was a farce simply meant to get them mated and bred, and it distressed my mother, to know that she had no choice in the matter. I've heard.... she went down the aisle in tears. I sincerely doubt... that they were happy ones."

He quiets for a moment.

"Oh, Howie..."

"She hated me. She hated everything about me. She was forced to bear an abomination, not the child she dreamed of. To exacerbate the issue... I looked just like my father, and acted like a perfect stranger to the world, that old trait of inhuman nature that seems to occur in my underdeveloped faction, surfaced in me."

"That's why you won't take a mate." You state quietly, breaking the silence. "You don't want to do to another poor woman what was done to your mother." You caress his face, but he turns away. The silence says enough.

"Howie... I want to be your mate. I promise you that. And maybe mating is horrific; but if we can bear a few sons, it'll be fine. I promise you that I won't reject you or our children; I swear on my life."

He meets your eyes sadly, expression still solemn.

"You haven't heard about the details of mating yet. You'll change your mind."

You brush his coarse, sea-salt smelling hair behind his ear, nuzzling yourself into his chest as you take in his shallow breaths.

"Then tell me. I think you'll be surprised."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Primal | Pt. 1

May 22nd, 2023

-Kaori

Tag a bitch, @layingwithlay here's to my besto friendo bc I felt like tagging you haha, suffer. ♡

#x reader #x character #character imagines #fanfictions #fanfic #bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #bsd lovecraft #bsd lovecraft x reader #hp lovecraft #bsd x reader #bsd #back by unpopular demand: me #bsd s4 #bsd s2 #bsd s5

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yeonban · 8 months

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*On Dan Heng's fear of the dark.

Dan Heng doesn't have many fears to speak of, but darkness / the dark is one of the few he really is afraid of. He doesn't go out of his way to mention this to anyone nor does he avoid tasks that have to do with being in a place devoid of light, but whenever faced with such a scenario he will hesitate to go there, and when he ultimately finds the courage to do so every muscle in his body will visibly show signs of strain. He refuses to let any fear (even if in this case it's one stemming from deep trauma) get the best of him so he attempts to shrug it off if needed, but he does still try to avoid it whenever possible.

Why does he have this fear?

"From birth, all that ever lay before him was but a lightless dungeon. To this darkness, irrelevant sins bound him… irrelevant memories engulfed him. He writhed, gasping for breath with every fiber of his being, attempting to clasp a sliver of light in this fathomless ocean. Until the day the general stepped into the lightless depths of this prison, he beheld a radiance shining brighter than the sun – the gaze of a young man." Imbibitor Lunae's light cone ("Brighter Than the Sun") explains how most of Dan Heng's life was spent in the Shackling Prison where he had nothing but the darkness to keep him company.

Although there are a few inconsistencies in the story (i.e: the mention of how the Four Precepts gave Dan Heng an education), I'd say this most likely happened on rarer occasions and definitely still within the prison; maybe with a faint light nearby (a fire or an artificial light) that was brought in from the outside in order to allow Dan Heng to see better before once again forcing him to return to the pure darkness. This kept going until Jing Yuan finally freed him, which is to say several decades after "Dan Feng" ceased to exist and "Dan Heng" came to be.

Within the dark dungeon, Dan Heng slowly started relieving various moments of Dan Feng's life, very likely starting with the worst of them considering a long-lived species' most vivid memories are their most terrible ones, so on top of being unable to see nor hear anything within that darkness, Dan Heng also grew up plagued by nightmares and hallucinations. He canonly refused to speak to anyone for many years while he lived in the prison, and he wasn't getting that many visitors to begin with anyways, which means for most of his life the only things keeping him company within the darkness were the worst moments of Dan Feng's life and the ghosts of his past.

The first time Dan Heng ever saw the sun and his own body was when he left the Luofu, as mentioned in his Character Story 1: "It's just another extremely average day aboard this giant ship. The markets have just opened and the morning dew is still fresh, but the young man crossing the street has never seen such a sight. Before he manages to notice all the differences between the actual city and its descriptions in books, he is immersed in savoring the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck. It is his first time seeing his own body clearly. This body belongs to him. It belongs to this current name. When he arrives at the port, the escorting soldier removes the last of his shackles. He walks forward without looking back."

Not to mention --- one of Dan Heng's most important memories overall, and the most important one regarding Blade, is of Blade hunting him down with nothing but the darkness surrounding him (them). On top of being forced to relieve Dan Feng's memories within the darkness, Dan Heng himself had traumatic experiences within it - of being hunted, of feeling bloodlust towards himself, of killing the source of it (Blade) only for Blade to appear again and again and again in front of him like a never-ending nightmare. There is absolutely nothing positive that Dan Heng has ever experienced within the darkness, and as such he has an immediate subconscious reaction against it whenever put into a place where he can't see anything or can barely see anything.

What does he do about it?

Though we haven't seen that much of Dan Heng's habits or daily tendencies thus far, what we have seen is his room (the Archives) and him sleeping in Blade's trailer. The Archives room is always bright during the "day" (which makes sense if we remember that the other Nameless can come in and out of it as they please since Dan Heng keeps the room unlocked during this time), but the thing is - he keeps this same brightness on during the "night" / sleeping time as well. The first three screenshots below are of "night-time" aka when Dan Heng is sleeping (WITH the door locked! which implies there's no logical reason for the light to still be on when no one else will come in) and the fourth is of the Archives room during daytime - the room practically has the same amount of brightness 24/7, even though the lights can definitely be turned off.

This is a habit Dan Heng upholds during Nameless missions too, as well as whenever he has to sleep somewhere outside the Express. For example, the trio (DH-March-Trailblazer) each got a separate room at Goethe's Hotel in Belobog every time they slept there, which isn't really necessary. They're comfortable and trusting enough of each other to easily sleep in the same room without worrying about it (if anything, it'd cost them less to pay for one room than three separate ones) but I imagine Dan Heng and March came to an agreement to not share a room at night ever since she joined the Express because Dan Heng always leaves the lights on at night, and I doubt March (or many others) could get a proper night's rest with the lights blaring in her face the entire time.

This is something Dan Heng does when forced to sleep outside too - he finds a place with either strong artificial lights (such as a market street) or a place with a good view of the full moon, and only after doing so is he able to fall asleep. He cannot sleep if he's devoid of light, and in the off-chance that he's exhausted enough to fall unconscious anyway, he will have a restless sleep full of nightmares and he will wake up faster than the rest, feeling worse than he did prior to sleeping.

Outside of this intentional habit of his, Dan Heng doesn't go out of his way to do much else. He only tries to avoid going into places with very low visibility, both due to his darkness-related trauma and also due to the fear of being ambushed (coughs the Blade flavored trauma), and he abstains from going outside during night-time if there isn't much light around even if his company is very trustworthy (he may accept if prodded incessantly, but he'll be on his guard and feel uncomfortable the entire time). Dan Heng will never bring up this fear nor comment on it unless specifically prompted to (and even then, he'd only do so with people he trusts), and he tries his best to not let it show either, but it's something that has plagued him since the day of his "birth" and it shows no signs of stopping anytime soon either.

#muse: dan heng.#* dan heng. / development.#My very intellectual commentary to my own meta post: :(

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armysantiny · 3 years

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A Rose For You - YS

Pairing: Yeosang x male reader || Ateez

Genre: fluff, some angst, oneshot

Includes: historical au, Prince!Yeosang, florist!reader, Lord!Wooyoung, Wooyoung mention, birth flowers, bouquets, tea, hanbok, delegation, threat of treason, diplomacy

Word count: 1.82k

Warning: treason mention

Rating: PG I think?

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @k-library, @8makes1teamnet, @ateezlovenet

Tagging: @teeztheflag, @intokook, @cherry-hyejin, @softforqiankun, @6yus || Taglist Form

Summary: Y/n enjoys bringing fresh flowers to the prince every morning, arranging each bouquet as a surprise. Faced with questions about his feelings about y/n once he learns the meaning of the bouquet brings him, Yeosang doesn’t know how to respond, and y/n can’t bare the embarrassment. Until the Crown Prince braves the worries in his heart and eases y/n’s mind.

An: Happy late birthday zodiac twin lol

Being the royal florist was an honour not many had the privilege of obtaining. And y/n was that lucky man.

A bouquet every morning, freshly picked and to be hand tied. Y/n had done it without fail for the better part of three years for the prince, and that morning was no different. The florist making his way to Yeosang’s private quarters with the bouquet in hand, bowed in respect as he greeted the passing guards. The same hallways, the same guards; Yeosang really hadn’t changed since y/n had first been employed. Perhaps that was what started the blossoming love in the florists’ heart; a love that stayed hidden behind the meanings of the flowers he prepared for the Crown Prince.

A knock at the door alerted the young prince, his attention drawn away from looking out of his window and towards the bright male at the door, a fresh bouquet of flowers in hand. In the time he had grown to know y/n, Yeosang thought he had learned what the meanings of each bouquet brought to him were. But with a grateful smile that was tinged with a confused curiosity, the prince was drawing a blank. Were these a new species? Crossing his legs as he took a seat at his table, Yeosang watched as y/n set the flowers in a vase, an unnamed longing in his eyes.

“I see you have awoken earlier than usual, your highness,” Y/n remarked as he accepted Yeosang’s invitation to sit with him. “It is a fine morning, were you planning on travelling to the lake?”

Yeosang simply shook his head, pouring the tea into their cups, “If that was the case, I‘d have invited you to join me, y/n-ssi, believe me. Instead, I must deal with diplomatic issues; there have been rumours of treason in the lands ruled over by the Kims. I fear it will be a long few days of military and diplomatic planning to discuss what to do next.” There was a sigh; a familiar sigh that y/n had grown to dislike. Yeosang wasn’t the type to crack under pressure, but to get absorbed in his duties. Too absorbed. Taking a sip of the tea as he listened to the news, y/n couldn’t help but let his mind wander. If the Crown Prince was put under this much stress before taking the throne from his father, what would he face as Emperor? Unbeknownst to the royal florist, his features had started to downturn, something Yeosang was quick to notice. Not wishing to see the concern in y/n’s eyes as a result of his words any longer, the young prince looked around the space to find another topic of conversation, his eyes landing on the morning’s flower arrangement.

“Uhm, anyway- tell me about the meaning behind today’s bouquet. I have not since today seen this flora. A new species, perhaps?” As the last question left his lips, Yeosang swore there was a weight lifted off of his chest once y/n’s smile had found its place once again.

Setting his now empty cup back on the ornate table and excusing himself for a moment, a jog in his steps as he went over to the vase, taking but two flowers out of the arrangement. Returning to his seat, y/n placed both flowers in front of him for the Crown Prince’s viewing.

“I had these flowers delivered especially for your viewing pleasure, my lord~. Dark red carnations and the flower of your birth month, honeysuckle. It is nearing your birthday, I thought you’d want to observe your birth flower.” Y/n explained, a twinge of hope as he rounded off his words. Intrigued, Yeosang leaned in closer, his head resting between his hands.

“And the carnations?” He’d seen y/n present carnations plenty of times beforehand, the flower was nothing new; it was the shade of carnations that Yeosang was unfamiliar with. A shade he had only seen among portraits of lovers. A moment went by after the Prince’s question, and there was still silence. Drawing his attention away from gazing at the flowers in front of him, Yeosang’s eyes met y/n’s. There was a hesitation in the young florist’s eyes, his face heating with an embarrassed flush as he tried to find the right words. Clearing his throat, y/n spoke, praying his words wouldn’t be misunderstood.

“Dark red carnations mean deep love and affection, my lord. I wanted to give this to you personally.” It was silent for a moment, Yeosang’s eyes widening with an emotion he had never experienced before. But the lack of a reply left y/n’s heart heavy. Y/n’s eyes quivered, faint tears welling up as he started to regret the choice to convey his feelings for Yeosang through flowers, the embarrassment crushing his chest. Confessing? What was y/n thinking? A royal florist, being in a relationship with the Crown Prince? It was ridiculous. Collecting the flowers in a hurry and profusely apologizing, y/n put them back in their place and excused himself, leaving the prince alone in his quarters, confused at exactly what had just happened.

Each day following that event went by more or less the same; y/n would greet the Prince, display the bouquet and excuse himself. No conversations over tea in the morning, confident smiles exchanged for stolen glances - it was clear to everyone working at the palace, even the Prince himself, that there was something wrong with the royal florist. It bothered Yeosang, keeping his mind occupied as he went about with official duties. Despite the urgent need to secure loyalty and avoid the possibility of treason in his and his allies’ kingdoms, Yeosang found himself wondering just what was wrong with his royal florist. His worries hadn’t ceased, not even when Lord Jung arrived at the palace with his delegation for a royal visit.

“...As I was saying, we must hold a competition for our best soldiers-” stopping when he realised Yeosang had been staring into his cup, Wooyoung chuckled, “Yeosang-ssi, are you listening?”

“...Oh? Ah - my apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment; there’s been something plaguing my mind recently.” The Prince explained, an apologetic smile on his face as he set the cup down, forcing a ‘relaxed’ expression as he motioned for his confidant and ally to continue with what was on his mind. However, Wooyoung wasn’t convinced in the slightest, a raise in his brow and a knowing smirk on his face.

“What is it..?”

“You must have forgotten, Prince Yeosang, that we have known each other since we were mere adolescents. I know that look; I’ve seen it before.” Wooyoung mused, calling for his tea to be refilled. The tea refilled, Wooyoung continued, “So tell me, dear friend; who is the person occupying your thoughts? You don’t behave like this often.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Long after Wooyoung and his delegation had left Yeosang’s kingdom, his parting words had not gone forgotten by the Crown Prince, who watched the river flow from inside the walls of his private quarters. Arms lightly folded as he observed the view in front of his eyes, his attention was drawn to a figure crouched by the flowing stream, hair falling around his shoulders. It took a moment - no longer - for the Prince to recognise who it was, his features brightening into a soft smile as he watched y/n enjoy the weather that day. Even if he didn’t know just what it was, simply watching y/n put Yeosang’s heart at ease, the florist’s presence bringing unintentional smiles to the royal’s face. Catching himself smiling, Yeosang set about making his way to the river’s edge, joining the florist’s company.

In his own world, y/n hadn’t realised that he was no longer alone until he zoned back in from his focused state, tilting his head at the shadow that was blocking the sun. Slowly turning his head and looking up, his mouth hung open as he was frozen in place.

“It would be wise if you closed your mouth, dear y/n. My appearance isn’t that shocking, is it?” The Prince teased, stifling an amused grin as he watched y/n scramble to his feet, dusting his hanbok before bowing a full 90 degrees. Stopping y/n by holding onto the florist’s shoulder, he shook his head, indicating for the older male to stand up straight.

“My sincerest apologies your highness, I didn’t mean to- of course not, you’re-” a hand held out to stop the brunet from rambling on further - not that he disliked it, but there was something Yeosang wanted y/n to see. Holding an expectant hand out, the Prince pulled the florist with him, no words exchanged until they had arrived at their location. A conservatory, tucked away behind the vast gardens of the palace.

If y/n thought that he had seen everything there was in the palace grounds, seeing the conservatory proved that wrong very quickly. The conservatory was unlike he had ever seen; gold, emerald and lapis encasing the structure, jade vines twirled around the supports. It was beautiful, seats decorated in the finest material. As the florist slowly sat down, his eyes finally landed on the bouquet of carnations. Dark red carnations...the flowers of deep love and admiration.

As Yeosang watched the florist look between himself and the bouquet displayed on the table in front of them, the words he wished to say were being revised; an error would throw off his plans.

“Your highness...you know what these flowers represent, what have you brought me here for?”

“I imagine you want an answer to your subtle confession?”

“That...that would be appreciated,” as much as y/n wanted an answer, the florist had made his own assumption a while ago, “but I do understand; I’m just a royal florist, you’re the Crown Prince. Nothing can come out of this-”

“Y/n, you know I don’t appreciate assumptions. Hear me out first. I will admit that I don’t know how best to describe what my feelings towards you are, but your presence puts me at ease; it’s a pleasant feeling, and I don’t want it to change.” Taking a breath, Yeosang continued, “I want you to stay by my side. Can you do that for me?”

It was quiet in the conservatory, the florist processing the Prince’s words, a soft smile on his face as the realisation hit him. His eyes gleaming with a new sense of hope, y/n nodded, hesitant hands hovering over Yeosang’s own. With the Crown Prince’s approval, y/n held Yeosang’s hands in his own, his smile igniting a smile from the male in front of him.

“I’ll be glad to stay by your side, your highness. It’d be my honour.”

Flowers hold so much meaning, don’t they?

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morgana-ren · 4 years

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Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.

You’re not the only one that thinks so.

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception.

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.

Humans are completely ridiculous.

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...

Well, you can't really say what.

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

"Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.

"Just... sitting here?"

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-"

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.

You can't help it.

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip

"Let go of me!"

"Get in, you little brat!"

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

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danger-xylophones · 4 years

Text

Family Reunion Part 7. The Child

{Masterlist}

Notes: I screwed up the timeline of Star Wars because I didn’t think about it so, sorry.

Ps. I stan big-brother Therapist Opress

Warnings: Swearing, reader is a panicky mess for a little bit, some suggestive language

Words: 3246

Taglist: @and-claudia // @tararuthven // @ravenclawlegacy // @noiralei // @pinkiemme // @darthsmol

<- Previous

………………………………….

Forever

Forever indeed. It felt like Maul had been gone for forever. You hadn’t seen him in two months and they were some of the most excruciating months you’d ever lived through. What made it worse were the few and far between calls late at night that only made your aching for your unofficial husband grow. You were legitimately becoming concerned for as the time stretched on without contact, you began to feel sicker. Was it possible to get sick from missing someone? Is that what people meant when they described someone as ‘lovesick’?

“Y/n, are you sure you are alright?” Ki-Adi’s voice shook you to the core as you were forced to refocus on the fact that you were currently in the middle of a duel with him. Your master had lowered his saber, one hand held up to stop you from pressing your advantage while he questioned you.

“I’m fine, Master.” The reply was immediate and spoken without thought. You knew you were just being dramatic and that your life had to go on when Maul wasn’t around. You were to become a Jedi. He was a Sith Lord. Divergence from each other was what founded your relationship and when that manifested in not seeing each other for months, you had to learn to deal with it. The whole ‘feeling sick because my husband isn’t here to hold me’ thing was getting old fast.

Your husband....gods, those words didn’t seem real. Legally binding or not, the fact of the matter was that you had married Maul in total secrecy two months ago. You could remember the moment he claimed you as his wife so clearly that on the most lonely nights it seemed to become the only thing that was real and untainted by hypocrisy, hubris, and politics. The knowledge that you were the only one who would ever know the feel of Maul’s hands on your hips, or the gentle nudge of his nose against your own as he pressed his lips to yours, or even how solid he felt when buried in-

You internally shook your head. Yes, the knowledge that you were the only one that would ever know how any of that felt was...intoxicating. And you were selfish. Maul’s love was a drug and you were the only one that had access to it.

“Are you sure? You seem very distracted.” Ki-Adi continued, blocking the strike you levied at his side.

“I’m. Fine.” You seethed, frustrated at your mind for wandering and at your body for how poorly you were fighting.

Ki-Adi sheathed his saber and raised an eyebrow at you, hands finding a place clasped behind his back. He was disappointed. You sighed and sheathed your green saber as well, already preparing for the inevitable lecture. “I do not believe you, Y/n. You haven’t been acting like yourself since we returned from negotiations on Toydaria.” Ki-Adi stepped forward to grasp your shoulder, communicating his concern more clearly than his perpetually calm voice would allow. “Did something happen?”

You shifted on your feet, knowing you would have to lie. There was no way you could tell him that you were lovesick but you could explain the physical symptoms your predicament had manifested. “No, master, nothing happened. Just...I don’t know how to explain it.” You carded a hand through your hair briefly. “For the past few weeks, I haven’t felt...like myself?” You tried, looking into your master’s calm face.

Ki-Adi’s brows furrowed. There was no condemnation in his eyes, only curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s worth of rest. For some reason, certain smells have been bothering me lately, I’m so tired all the time-yesterday I passed out in the library and Madame Jocasta had to walk me to my room because I couldn’t walk more than a few steps without feeling nauseous.” You let out an angry huff directed at the strange reactions your body was having to the absence of Maul. “But, every time I’ve considered going to the healers to see what is going on, the symptoms vanish.”

Ki-Adi was quiet for a moment as he digested the revelation. “Do you know what might be causing these reactions?” He eventually asked, taking a seat in the middle of the mat you had been fighting on. You followed his lead, sticking your chin in one hand and propping your elbow on your bended knee while your free hand toyed with a rogue string on your robe. You shook your head, eyes boring into the ground. “Are you, perhaps, nervous for the Trials?”

You shook your head again, straightening up. “No, I mean...I am just a bit nervous but I know that these reactions aren’t originating from that. I was more nervous about making my second lightsaber and this never happened.” Your stomach gave an almighty lurch all of a sudden which caused you to clasp your hand over your mouth, the other shooting to your stomach. But, just as quickly as it had come upon you, the sensation vanished leaving you and your perplexed master. You groaned in frustration, almost wishing you would just vomit so that whatever was going on would cease. Ki-Adi sent you a sympathetic frown, helping you to your feet. “If I may forgo discretion, master?” He hummed to tell you it was alright. “I spoke with Luminara Unduli and she posited that it could just be an intense bout of pms. Which would make sense…” Because I’m late…Like,...two months late. And with that realization, a whole new plethora of issues became very likely possibilities. No, no...we...Maul and I aren’t even the same species. That can’t happen...or can it? Zabraks are classified as Near-human. In theory, we could...no, no.

“Hmm, this is troubling. May I suggest that you go to the healers, Padawan? Even if Master Unduli is correct, I think it would be wise to receive confirmation.” Ki-Adi, ever tranquil in his approach, thankfully rescued you from the spiraling panic now coiling in your chest. “Come, I will escort you there.”

…………………………………….

“Y/n?” Savage’s rumbling baritone voice pulled you back to reality and you suddenly realized that you had been zoned out for a very long time. When had you started deep cleaning the ship? Looking away from the floor of the cockpit you had started diligently scrubbing, you met the towering zabrak’s questioning gaze as he leaned against the doorway. “Are you alright? You’ve been cleaning incessantly since you woke up.”

Briefly letting your eyes flicker over the various cleaning supplies strewn around you, you shrugged, mouth feeling dry. “I...I guess.” With a little more focus, you returned to scrubbing, eager for some distraction. “I’ve just...been lost in thought, I guess.”

“I noticed.” Savage stated bluntly whilst crossing his arms. “I’m worried about you, sister.” You paused at his words, momentarily closing your eyes as you collected yourself. You could hear him approaching, long strides echoing around the small area as he neared until he crouched next to you and gently worked the rag out of your hands. “You have not been yourself for the past few days.” Your eyes snapped open and slid to the side to meet Savage’s gaze. His brow was worked into a frown and one of his large hands was hesitantly reaching out, as though he was unsure if he was allowed to console through touch.

Opting to let him in, you reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m afraid seeing Maul in this state has...drained me. I just needed a reprieve and I guess shutting down was the way I went about achieving that.” As you spoke, you let your thumbs dig into his palm while you used him as an anchor. “And,” glancing around Savage to see into the makeshift sleeping area the three of you had set up, you took note of how Wild was still completely passed out which made it safe to make your confession, “and it isn’t helped by the lying on my end. I want to tell Wild the truth, but I’m terrified of how he’ll react. He’s lived his whole life believing his father to be dead. What will he do when he finds out that he’s not and that he was, in fact, a Sith Lord? I don’t want him to go into shock over it but how the hell am I supposed to adjust him to the idea organically?” You muttered more to yourself than to Savage who was still patiently crouched next to you, happily lending an ear.

Savage’s breathing was the only thing you could hear, low and steady like the breath of a mythical beast. It was soothing to hear something other than your own panicked thoughts. “I wish I knew how to help you, Y/n. I care for Wild and I care for you too. The three of you are the only kin I have left.” He sighed and finally took a seat beside you, still allowing you to toy with his hand.

“I hadn’t thought about that...how are you holding up?” You tried carefully, releasing Savage’s hand when he gently tugged it away from you.

“Not well, if I am to be completely honest. Though-I have the benefit of not remembering what Maul used to be like.” Savage’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

Not entirely sure where to go from here, you opted to voice the most pressing anxiety that plagued you without ceasing. “Do you really think Mother Talzin will be able to help him?”

“Help him? No. Bring back Darth Maul? Yes.”

……………………………………..

“Padawan L/n, these results are...most concerning.” The words falling from the Mirialan healer are...disconcerting which causes you to sit up, propping yourself on your elbows as you rise from the bed to watch her movements.

“Why?” You ask, sitting up a little further as your panic makes a resurgence. “What’s wrong? What do they say?” She didn’t reply nor did she turn to look at you as she raised a hand and flicked her fingers in unison to beckon you over. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and walked over to the screen that was displaying the results of the full-body scan she had run to pinpoint the epicenter of your troubles. The particular area of interest was a position that was decidedly not your stomach like you thought it would be. Oh no. “W-...what does that mean?” You asked, trembling. Your throat was swiftly closing up as you continued to stare at the red circle that blinked placidly above your uterus.

“Y/n, you know what it means. Coupling the scan with your other symptoms, I think the issue is impossible to deny or misinterpret.” The Mirialan was bristling as she spoke, the sympathy draining from her voice with every word till it was sucked dry of any humanity. “I must inform the council immediately.”

Inform the...shit. Whirling around faster than you thought humanly possible and leaping over the bed, you practically tackled the healer to keep her from leaving the room. “Dariada, listen to me. I don’t know how this happened.” You attempted to explain, hands grasping her left forearm in a vice.

She made a noise of utter indignation that echoed in your head. “You don’t-how could you not know?! You slept with a man, Padawan L/n, that’s how this happened. You broke the code! They’ll expel you from the order for this!” She was livid.

“They could if I had broken the code! But I didn’t! I didn’t sleep with anyone!” Liar. Liar. This baby’s mother is a liar. Maul, fuck, where are you? One hand shot to your front, gently laying over where your womb was. “There was no one. I swear.”

“That doesn’t happen, Y/n. You had to have slept with someone.” Dariada shot back, hood dangerously close to flying off. Her vibrant green skin was a shade darker from the blood rushing to it in her anger. You had never liked Dariada, she was always far too self-righteous, but you liked her even less now. With what could only be described as a snarl, she wrenched her arm free and grabbed both of your wrists in an iron grip, already marching her way out of the hall and dragging you along with her. She held true to her word and informed the council of the...situation.

Soon you were standing in the middle of the council members, begging for them to believe you that there had been no one. The lie felt like poison on your tongue, it seeped into your own system just as it flew at the council members. Plo Koon was the first to believe you. “I can sense much fear in you, padawan. Why?” The Kel Dor had asked amidst your muffled sobs. There was no hint of condemnation in his modulated voice, but, instead, compassion and empathy.

“With all due respect, Master Plo, I just found out that I’m pregnant and I can’t even explain how it happened. I am not ashamed to admit I am terrified of what is to become of my baby.” You turned towards him, hiccuping and blubbering throughout your confession.

“Only your baby?” Plo Koon asked, raising the ridge where his eyebrow would be. You were painfully aware of the gazes of each individual master on you. Ki-Adi’s was the heaviest of them all.

With a swallow, you attempted to calm your nerves. Maul could help you. Maul would help you. You just had to get in touch with him. But what would his master do to him, to your baby? The tears began anew. “Only my baby. I can be expelled from the order and find a way to survive but what of them?” No answer was needed for your question. The implications were clear.

“Padawan, approach.” Master Yoda’s voice called to you as he beckoned you closer with his three-fingered hand. His expression was unreadable. You did as he commanded and the old master closed his eyes and held his hand out in front of him when you were little more than a foot away from him. “A child of the Force, the babe is. Clouded is their future.” The grandmaster sighed heavily, letting his head and hand fall in time. “Expel her, we cannot. Powerful will the child be. We must not let either of them fall to the dark side.” Murmurs fell from the masters, sneaking past you as they slipped from loose lips.

“But is she telling the truth, Master Yoda?” Master Tinn was the one to voice the question on all of their minds.

“She has to be, Master Tinn.” It was Ki-Adi who spoke in your defense. “Dariada said that she was approaching nine weeks, in that time, the only instances where Y/n has left my sight was when she was in the temple. Y/n is predisposed to the light side and has never broken the code before, to assume that she would to this extent is unwise and unfair to my padawan.” You sent Ki-Adi a grateful smile as he rose from his chair and approached to stand beside you in front of his fellow masters.

“What are you suggesting we do then, Master Mundi?” Mace Windu asked from your right.

“Put Y/n’s training on hold and postpone the trials. We will keep her in the temple to watch over her and when the baby comes, I think it would be wise to look into training them.” Ki-Adi offered swiftly to muttered agreements.

With a tap of his staff, Yoda called the room to him. “A wise decision that is, Master Mundi. Watch her closely, you must. Now,” He focused on you, eyes penetrating your defenses till his gaze seared into you, “fetch Master Qui-Gon Jinn, young padawan, know something of this occurrence, he might.” You dipped your head to bid the council farewell before skirting away from them. As you fled the meeting area, one thought remained. Where are you, Maul?

…………………………………………………

Maul was being a nuisance. You had gone into the cargo hold in search of more ration bars and thought that he had still been asleep. You were correct, he was still in the same place you had left him last night. Or he had been until Savage came stomping in after you and woke him up. Now, he was acting like a feral tooka; hissing and spitting at Savage while you, once again, trapped behind him. Savage had backed off with his hands up to show surrender but Maul hadn’t relented and you were rather fed up with it. “Savage, go get me a damp cloth, I’ll try to calm him down.” You ordered whilst nodding your head to Maul. Savage was eager to help calm his brother and so, swiftly backed out.

Meanwhile, you worked to soothe Maul once more, delicately coaxing him to lay down with his torso across your lap. Gentle purrs rumbled in his chest while you worked your hand into the perpetually tense muscles in his back. Savage entered once more, quietly this time, and handed the cloth he had gotten to you. You used the rag to dab at the junctures of Maul’s body. You hoped the motion would be soothing. His fever had broken sometime during the night but you were still trying to ensure he was kept comfortable for the remainder of the journey.

Before the silence could persist for much longer, Savage broke it as he leaned on some stacked crates across from you. “Did Wild mention the tattoos to you?”

Looking away from Maul and to the door to the hold, you made sure the three of you were alone. “Yes, he told me he had been talking to you about Dathomir and the Nightbrothers.” You brought your gaze back to Savage who seemed a little hesitant to continue talking.

“Did...did he tell you why?” You shook your head. Savage sighed heavily and slid down to be seated. “I’m afraid Wild suspects we are hiding something from him.”

“I knew he’d start to.” You muttered under your breath, subconsciously gripping the cloth tighter. “Did he say anything?”

Savage shook his head, “No, but he was asking a lot of questions regarding Maul. I answered as many as I could.”

“Wild’s always been perceptive, I knew we couldn’t hide this forever. But, did he tell you why he wanted more? He told me you had offered to help him.”

The yellow zabrak groaned, pulling one knee up to use as an armrest as he averted his gaze to Maul who had taken to playing with your free hand. “All he said was that he could feel something coming, something monumental.”

Your brows furrowed. That was...news. Why hadn’t he talked to you about this? Probably because you’ve been keeping secrets from him, you lying piece of-

The door suddenly slid open to reveal the boy of the hour. His...cold saffron eyes zeroed in on Maul before flicking away to Savage and then yourself. His face was stiff. “We’re approaching Dathomir, I took the liberty of starting landing procedures.” His voice was clipped and serious, more than it normally was. With one last glare at Maul, he turned and stalked towards the cockpit.

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#darth maul #clone wars #tcw #star wars

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writing-gifts · 4 years

Text

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

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A/N: idk what to say so here’s another chapter ft. oblivious bruno lmao

First Chapter || Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

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[Early Fall]

You thought you were at peace with Summer ending but apparently that wasn’t the case. Every time you woke up and it was a little colder than the day before you’d curse the season. It was uncomfortable to adapt to and made you want to stay under your covers longer than you should.

You still tried to see the good in Autumn though. Such as the trees changing from various greens to reds, oranges, and yellows. It was a nice change of scenery. But you quickly remember with that came giant dead leaves almost landing on you, which wasn’t as nice. And these leaves would make the paths you walked extremely uneven. To you every pro had multiple drawbacks.

"I just don’t want to say goodbye to the warm weather, even if the heat would get a little unbearable some days,” you complain to your friend.

"Yeah. It’s going to suck when it gets too cold to fly."

Frowning even more, you pour the bag of grain you’re holding into a storage container. Since it would only be getting cooler from now on Abilene needed to start saving up food and you were helping them.

"Don’t look so down, we can keep each other company during it. By the way, have you started preparing for Winter?" Abilene asks.

“Yep! You know I have copious amounts of nectar stored at all times.”

"Of course, of course how silly of me."

You stick out your tongue at them but stop when you almost spill some of the grain on the ground.

You both continue to work in relative silence but if thoughts could make noise it would be extremely loud. Something has been plaguing your mind recently. Something related to Bruno.

Your crush on the moth had always been there but instead of fading away like you expected, it seemed to have grown exponentially over the Summer.

You put down the bag you just finished emptying. “Hey Abby...”

“Hm?”

You shift slightly from foot to foot, unsure how to bring up the topic. “Um, would it be strange if two different species got together?"

Abilene looks puzzled. “No? I've seen a lot of bugs do it, and honestly you and Bruno aren't that different. Moths and butterflies are probably under the same category."

"W-Wait, I didn't mention anything like that…"

Your friend shrugs, opening up another bag. "Why else would you ask a question that you already know the answer to? I’m guessing your little crush got more serious?"

You rub at your arm, your bottom hands wringing each other. "I thought I just had a crush because of his looks but I spent too much time with him and it got worse!”

"Yea, that's how relationships tend to work."

"Abby this is serious, I don't know what to do!"

They close the bin they just finished filling and look at you. “Maybe just confess?”

You almost roll your eyes. “You know that I can't do that. That’s the sensical thing to do!”

"I guess you're just going to have to suffer then. Unless, he confesses to you."

That gives you pause. You couldn't exactly see Bruno feeling the same way. Was that even a possibility?

"What if he doesn't see me that way?"

"As harsh as it sounds, you just have to accept and respect that. But at least you’ll know and there won't be any ‘what ifs’."

That was true but rejection was a scary thing. Scary enough to prevent you from even trying. And there was always that chance that the confession would ruin your friendship.

Suddenly, you didn't want to talk about this anymore.

“You okay?”

"I don't know...I just need to think a little more on this."

You help more silently from then on. It takes a while before you're done emptying the bags and the filled bins are placed neatly in Abilene’s pantry. And after cleaning up any spilled grains, you’re ready to walk home. Even though you try to reassure Abilene, they tag along to “prevent you from getting distracted”.

By the time you both get through the path between your homes, the sun’s on the verge of setting but you're surprised to find Bruno already waiting by the front steps.

The realization that crosses Abilene's face when they see him has you suddenly feeling antsy. You were not ready for this. You planned for them to meet during the upcoming play.

"Is this The Bruno?" they whisper to you.

Oh god.

“Abby please act normal…”

You both walk up to the moth, although you lag behind your friend.

When you catch up, Abilene’s already introducing themselves.

“I’m glad to finally meet the person I’ve been hearing so often about.”

You squint at Abilene trying to show your disapproval with just your eyes, but they simply return an “innocent” smile.

Fortunately, Bruno doesn’t question their comment. “Well It’s nice that I can finally sate your curiosity.”

“Definitely. But also it’s the perfect time to make sure that ____ is making friends with people with their best interest in mind. No offense.”

You internally groan. Abilene didn’t exactly sound confrontational but you can’t help feeling that from what they just said. If you knew they would act like this you would have avoided Bruno and Abilene meeting at all costs.

You sigh. “I told you he was safe….”

Bruno gives Abilene a slight smile, "It's good that they have someone looking after them. And I don't blame you considering how we met.”

You look at Abilene and for some reason they don't seem as sure as they did a moment ago.

“I've been wondering for a while...” Bruno continues. “Has ____ always liked to stay out late?”

Abilene seems to step out of whatever temporary daze they went into. “Unfortunately, yes. Ever since they were a caterpillar. I don't even know where they picked it up from, but you don't even want to know some of the other things I’ve caught them doing.”

The moth's brows raise and he looks at you, “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Guys”, you interject. Bruno did not need to know about that. Especially after what you said at the pond.

“I don't stay out that late anymore! At least not by myself anyways.”

"I suppose that's true." Bruno says.

“But the fact that you managed to discourage them from doing that is really amazing, you know?”

“It wasn’t easy trust me.”

You purse your lips. Sure you can be stubborn when it came to visiting flowers but were you really that bad? They had to be exaggerating. And you didn't need both your friends calling you out on your bad habits together. At least not in front of your face.

"By the way Abby, when did you say the play was again?” you ask.

"That’s coming up pretty soon actually--in a week.”

"I’m still curious about the ‘supernatural’ element," Bruno says.

You release a breath seeing that your question was enough to change to subject.

"Do you like supernatural stuff? Abby’s surprisingly into it."

“Not necessarily. I’m just wondering what they were planning since it was so vague.”

Abby nods. “I thought they would explain it when the play date got closer but it’s still pretty vague so guess we’ll just have to find out on the day.”

As the conversation continues you feel yourself relaxing. It really wasn't weird or awkward like you had been worrying about. Even if you wanted to pinch Abilene whenever they said something that even slightly implied your crush on the moth.

It doesn’t take long before the sun is gone and it’s dark out.

Abilene glances up. "Well, I’m going to head back now. Don’t want to let it get too late.”

You slightly pout. Now that the initial part of the meeting has passed you didn’t want this to end so quickly. "Aw okay. See ya later, Abby."

"It was nice meeting you. Be safe getting back," Bruno says.

Abilene smiles at you both, “Bye ____, and I’ll be seeing you at the play Bruno."

They turn to leave but they stop and lean towards your ear. “Now I know why you were so desperate to keep in contact with him--very handsome,” they whisper.

You push them in the direction of their home. “Yes goodbye Abby! Get back safely.”

They snicker at you, not moving as quickly as you would like. “I will obviously. Bye!”

Exhaling deeply, you watch them head back through the path you two came from.

“You guys seem like very good friends.”

You scowl still reeling from what that grasshopper said. “I have no friends!”

“What?”

You sigh when you see Bruno’s questioning gaze and open your front door. “Nothing, just come and get your nectar.”

After Bruno and Abilene’s brief meeting you find yourself looking more forward to the play. Fortunately, the next several days pass by quickly and the three of you all meet up at your home before heading there together.

It’s quite crowded when you arrive but you all manage to find a spot together and you sit in between your friends.

Throughout the play, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking over at Bruno to see his reactions. One time you look over and he looks right back, which makes you finally stop, afraid that he had noticed you doing that the whole time. Other than that everything else went smoothly, or as smoothly as a unique play like that could go.

It went on pretty long, starting late afternoon so any bug whether diurnal or nocturnal would be able to attend. Now the last of the sun covers everything in an orange glow and those who need it can make it home safely.

You walk alongside your friends, leaving the open theater area to head back towards your home. It’s only a short while before the three of you are walking along a river bank.

You cautiously watch the running water, your eyes every so often follow the random leaves being carried away.

"I wasn’t expecting that…” you say.

It was a romance story like the poster said but the supernatural part was definitely something new to you.

“When Athan started drinking from the other mosquito--,” Abilene chuckles.

You side eye your usually practical friend. “You were into that...?”

Abilene shrugs, “It’s not the first time I’ve seen or read stories like this. Definitely has a strange allure to it...”

You decide to not ask them to go into detail since Bruno’s here and turn to said moth instead.

“Did you think it was weird?”

“Some parts were definitely strange, especially all the blood drinking, but I enjoyed it overall,” he says.

“Hmm, do you like romance?”

“I guess I tend to lean towards it.”

You nod. “I could tell you really liked the more uhh s-sensual parts?”

You know that sounded off and you can see Bruno wants to laugh but he holds it behind a small smile.

Abilene looks at you with a raised brow. “Why did you have to say it like that?”

“I don't know how else to say it! The sexy parts?!”

You and Abilene fill most of the silence while Bruno mainly listens, throwing in his opinion every once in a while. Eventually he needs to split off from the group to head towards his own home. So you exchange goodbyes and he flies off.

“Bruno looked really happy!”

Abilene’s brows raise slightly. “...He did? He seemed at most content to me.”

“Nah, I think he really enjoyed himself,” you couldn't help the grin on your face. You wanted to do more things like this with your friends.

For some reason Abilene starts smiling at you with a knowing look and you just stare back confused.

“What?”

“Nothing, just smiling.”

You huff. “Come on.”

“Okay, you're so cute right now. I can tell that you really like Bruno a lot and spend a lot of time with him.”

“Oh...”

Was it that obvious? You didn't even say anything strange though, at least you think you didn’t.

“I can't make you do anything but I really think you should embrace your feelings,” your friend says.

“I don't know...How should I go about it cause I’m too afraid to just come out and say it.”

Abilene holds their chin as they think. “Well, perhaps you just need to show him.”

“Like trying to hold hands or something? That seems a bit much--I mean, we did do that once…”

“You held hands already?” They sound very curious.

You wave your hand in front of your face. “He was leading me through the dark, but we’re getting off topic! What do you mean?”

“Just like hints at feeling more. Maybe compliment him more. If you're feeling really brave, maybe offer a hug.”

The idea of hugging Bruno has your heart lurching.

Abilene tries to give you a supportive smile. “Honestly this isn’t my area of expertise but you can’t expect anything if you just wait around. And you don't have to go hard all at once, just start off small.”

You really didn’t want to constantly wonder ‘what if’ in the future so you agree with this plan. “I’ll try…”

It definitely won't be easy though.

-----

The sky had been dark and cloudy since morning and only got darker as the day went on. The pressure drop in the air was obvious but not a single raindrop fell. You just hoped it wouldn’t flood when it finally did decide to pour.

You were sitting on the ground in front of your low table sewing. You had neglected this hobby for baking last season so you decided to finally get back to it since you didn’t expect Bruno to show up tonight. You actually hadn't seen the moth that often since the play. Apparently, Narancia wanted him to stay with him more often and of course parent duty came first.

While focusing on pinning the cloth together that would be a new top, there's a knock on your front door which causes you to tilt your head. You wonder who it was. Maybe Abilene but they rarely came over this late, especially right before rain.

When you walk over to open the door and see Bruno, you immediately give him a questioning look. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to visit.”

“That’s it? But it’s going to rain though! How are you going to get back? What if it rained while you were coming here?”

“It’s fine--”

Suddenly there’s a loud clap of thunder, a bright flash and the stormy clouds finally release the rain they had been holding on to all day. Which instantly soaks Bruno.

You pull him in hastily and shut the door. “Holy crap, are you okay?”

“I probably should have not pushed my luck standing outside like that.” He wipes the fluff on his forearm across his face but it barely helps.

“Ah wait, let me get you something to dry off.”

You run to your bedroom to find a giant towel for the moth.

When you come back into the main room, you hold it out for him to take. He immediately brings the soft towel to his face and you leave again to get some blankets. It wasn’t too cold but it would be best to warm him up to absolutely avoid sickness.

When you come back with some of your fluffiest blankets in your arms, you see that Bruno has removed the golden clips from his hair to dry it. The braid on the top of head has come loose and the strands that once formed it sit slightly wavy atop the rest of his hair.

You suddenly remember Abilene’s advice to be more honest with your feelings but you could barely look at the moth right now. Damn him for not wearing clothes and looking good even soaked.

You finally look away and drop the blankets on your daybed.

“____.”

You turn back towards him.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Uh, yea?”

“If you don’t mind, I need help reaching my wings.”

“O-Oh.”

Why didn't you think of that. Getting back there would take way longer by himself

You grab the towel and move behind him to gently dab at his damp wings, careful not to cause any damage. The towel wouldn't be able to dry them completely but it would slightly speed up the process. They would have to mainly air dry though.

“You won't be able to fly for a while Bruno. Not that you could fly back in this rain anyways,” you say.

“I know.”

You almost want to chide the moth for how indifferent he sounded, but you decide to let it go. Both of you knew you weren’t the pinnacle of careful behavior anyways.

“I’m not going to kick you out, obviously, but I don’t know if you’re comfortable with staying overnight.”

“Why wouldn’t I be comfortable? I would actually really appreciate it.”

“Well, then I guess that's settled then.” You gently touch the wing that's slightly overlapped on top of the other and direct it upwards so you can better get to the bottom one. They felt pleasantly fuzzy. Similar to a cushion you would like to lay your face on or rub your hands all over.

Brunos wings shift slightly under your fingertips. “T-Thanks for helping me dry off.”

You momentarily pause. “You cold?”

“Not much.”

You couldn't tell if he was being honest or trying to pretend but you’re sure you heard him stutter. You shake it off quickly so you can finish trying to get some of the water off his wings. After you finish you lead him towards the daybed.

“I bought you covers to warm up. You can air dry your wings later.”

“But I’m not that cold.”

“I’m hearing that you’re still cold though so I’m not taking any nos.”

The moth sits on the daybed in slight resignation, and you quickly wrap the covers around him, layering him with one after the other. Once you're done, you laugh at his face poking out of the hill of blankets and his antenna being forced down by the wait of the covers.

He furrows his brow, blowing the fur on his antenna out of his face. “Don’t you think these are too many covers?”

You do your best to speak through your laughs. “Better--Better safe than sorry.”

“This is so…” He shakes his head, well the best that he can under those covers, not bothering to finish his thought.

“Don’t worry, you look great like this!” Your laughs finally start to slow and you sit down next to the blanket heap that is Bruno. “If you need anything else just let me know kay?”

The moth moves the blankets to sit on his shoulder instead on top of his head. “I should be okay. Thank you again for letting me stay.”

“No problem. I would have let you for no reason honestly.”

Bruno watched you slide off the daybed onto the floor so you can continue your sewing.

“What are you making?” he asks.

“A top. I want to wear something new for the upcoming cold.”

You pull out a pin from your flower shaped pincushion.

“Actually, do you ever wear clothes? I’ve never seen you in any since I met you,” you say.

“Barely, I don’t really get cold enough that I need to.”

Your lips twist to the side, unconvinced. It’s not like his legs and torso weren’t nice to look at, but part of you wanted to dress him up. You're sure he’d look great. And just knowing his thighs and torso were always exposed made you worried about the inevitable drop in temperature.

“Not even in the Winter? But youre almost completely exposed….”

“I stay mostly indoors during it and I can keep myself warm if necessary.”

“How?”

“I’ll just warm myself up by vibrating.”

You raise a brow. “...Vibrating?”

“It’s not exactly the warmest at night in Autumn so I need to vibrate my wings so I can fly. Do you want to see?”

You didn't want him to take off the covers so you shake your head, “Maybe another time.”

It did sound interesting, however you can't help thinking wearing clothes would be more convenient. Especially when it came to flying since it could get pretty chilly if you went fast enough.

“You must not be very fond of clothing. Or maybe you don’t like them at all?” you contemplate out loud. “Very interesting…”

“Is it really that unconventional to you?”

“It's fine, it’s fine. You can be exposed or whatever,” you say teasingly. “It's not like it's against the rules.”

The moth’s brow furrows. “I don't exactly hate wearing clothing, I just dont think it’s necessary for me.”

“I guess that’s true with all your fluff and you probably have a higher tolerance to cold than me. I still think you'd look good in something though. It’s actually pretty fun having stuff to change into.”

You notice that Bruno’s looking at your clothes and for some reason you decide to make a dumb joke. “Are you hungry or something?”

“If you're implying that I want to eat your clothes, then no.” He smirks a bit. “Unless you want me to, then I won’t be taking any bites near you, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Your eyes widen slightly, unsure of what to make of that. Next time you try to be clever you need to be better prepared.

“A-Anyways, maybe I could make you something one day! Do you have any preferences?”

“Maybe something that doesn’t restrict me too much. And doesn’t cover up my fur. It gets uncomfortable during the Summer.”

You cross off anything with long sleeves.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a typical top…” you say outloud to yourself.

An idea is taking shape in your mind's eye but you're not exactly sure how you’ll go about it yet. You might need to make a visit with your more arachnid than insect neighbor.

“Well for now I’m going to knit you a sweater for winter cause I’m not letting you walk around shirtless in the cold!”

“You know I do actually own clothes right?”

“But you said you barely wear them so I'm still making you a sweater. I'm going to make it so you can remove the forearm sleeves if you want, okay?”

“You can make it however you please. I’ll take whatever you make for me”

You shake your head. “That’s sweet but I want you to really like it too--like it so much that you’ll never want to take it off! So I want to make sure it’s something that would be completely comfortable for you.”

Bruno pulls the blankets closer to him. “I’m sure you’d come up with something good without my input, but if it will make it easier for you then I’m fine with that.”

After asking a few more questions related to the sweater, you continue working on the shirt in front of you while you try to figure out how you'd go about making a sheer piece of clothing. At one point you look over and see that Bruno has fallen asleep on top of all the covers that were previously wrapped around him.

You reach out to feel his wings without really thinking. They’re still wet of course but it was better than before.

The moth shifts in his sleep and opens a tired eye.

“Sorry, just checking your wings. Go back to sleep.”

He shuts his eye. “I’m going to poke at your wings when you fall asleep…” It was impossible to take that seriously with his voice being so groggy.

“I would barely call that a poke,” you roll your eyes when you see his lips form a soft smile. It’s tempting to reach out and pinch his nose but you leave him alone.

The rain continues to be heavy and persistent throughout the rest of the evening, filling your home with a pleasant hum. Once it gets too late for you to keep sewing you decide to leave your stuff on the table, too tired to clean up.

You move to get off the floor and jump when you realize Bruno was awake.

“Have you been laying there quietly the whole time?”

Bruno props himself up to better look at you. “Yes?”

“You should have said something, I would have talked to you!”

“You seemed focused and I didn’t want to distract you.”

You shake your head at the somewhat socially inept but considerate action. “Well I guess I’ll head to bed. Will you be comfortable here?”

“With all these covers and this daybed? Definitely.”

You grin, “I really can't believe you risked the rain to come over here. Did it really need to be today?”

The question was supposed to be mostly rhetorical but the moth still answers.

“Narancia wanted to stay over with a friend so I decided to visit. I knew I could make it if I was quick enough.”

But look at you now silly moth.

“That’s it?”

You were still confused by Bruno’s actions but he continues speaking.

“I wanted to visit you. I finally had a chance to come over and I didn’t want to let it pass by.”

How can he say things like that so easily?

“Oh, okay that’s--Thanks, I’m glad to see you too.”

The Bruno you were looking at right now with his messy hair and completely relaxed posture was almost hard to process. But when his usually serious expression is replaced by something more at ease and soft, your stomach feels weird, like something is fluttering within and you can barely keep eye contact.

“Y-You’re actually really cute sometimes--” You freeze as soon as the words come out of your mouth. It wasn’t an accident, you fully intended to say them but actually hearing them outloud? It was embarrassing.

“GOODNIGHT!” you yell before the moth can speak and quickly walk out of the room, leaving a probably highly weirded out Bruno on your daybed.

#hint: bruno isnt weirded out #i wanna be a worldbuilding master so trying to slowly improve #maybe in a couple years #anyways i hope you guys liked this chapter ^^#bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #reader insert

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grizzlee30 · 3 years

Text

Hey y’all. The following is from a writing prompt I did a little while ago. Posting it here for posterity. If you’d like, let me know what you think!

TRANSMISSION: OPERATION ALEXANDIRA IS UNDERWAY.

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Being a Cataloger is no easy task, though it is an honor. Many beings from across the galaxy wish they could have the honor of knowing everything there is to know about their homeworld. Being a Cataloger means that no secret is too great, no business that isn’t theirs. They have absolute freedom and authority to investigate and record all that happens on their planet, and no government or organization is allowed to keep anything from them. Their motto was: “Posterity is the most important tool of hindsight.”

Antherumberbane, a Froxin of a more variant lineage, found the task to be perpetually exciting. The Froxins had forgone government and borders some millennia ago. The fallout of a war that nearly glassed their planet brought about the kind of perspective about self-control that one might get when you feel your balance tip just a little too far off a steep cliff. The consequential guilt that had formed in their collective consciousness brought them to a silent and official result: Anything they did, they would do for the greater good of the planet and their species. The discovery of their planet by the Collective Alliance of Planetwide Sentiance (Or CAPS for those who needed to save a minute) also helped to shift that global perspective, as that day, the world grew to an unimaginable size. Keeping home tidy seemed like a logical priority. This led to a renaissance of sorts, as every Froxin dedicated their life to the pursuit of science and the arts. Weapons and the arms race became a fleeting memory and the planet of Flotilla became a beautiful eutopia.

Antherumberbane was no different from the other Froxins. They too believed in the pursuit of a better world, which is why he agreed to the lonely job of Cataloger for CAPS. Antherumberbane did not take the decision lightly, as being a Cataloger was a lifelong commitment, not one easily broken. They had a nice life on Flotilla, for a while. They had a lovely partner that they love more than anything. But even in a world as advanced and as generous as Flotilla, sickness still existed, and tragedy was not unheard of. After their death, Antherumberbane decided to leave his post as a scribe for the scientific community and took the offer to become isolated, for that‘s what Catalogers were.

The purpose of Catalogers was not to gain intelligence to spread to other worlds. In fact, Catalogers were to take a vow of silence with anyone except other Catalogers. This was to prevent any secrets from other planets from being divulged to their home planets. Instead, Catalogers were tasked with creating a sort of galactical time capsule. Should CAPS ever fall or its members go to war, an indestructible data hold on a remote comet flying unpredictably through the stars, known to the Catalogers as “The Remnant” would be the only remains of the alliance. The records inside of it would be sealed whilst the citadel of CAPS remained to function, unsealing only in the event that the alliance had truly fallen.

Antherumberbane had questioned the method of storage privately many times in-between their duties. They understood the sentiment behind it: Create a record of every success and failure of the most advanced systems in our time so future alliances could learn from them. They were comfortable enough with the functioning of the citadel being the key to the files being sealed. It was the most defended structure in the galaxy, and no one planet could take it without serious consequences. It was even unlikely that a group of planets would have the resources to take the vessel, as it acted as its own sovereign territory governed by multiple representatives of each planet. It had its own artillery, military, software, and hardware defenses. It even had its own armada, made up of 20% of each of its member’s fighting force. It was certainly possible for the citadel to fall, Antherumberbane did not kid themselves, but it was a slim chance that anyone would ever want to. Even the warrior race of the Chibathons, who valued strength above all else to rule, saw the importance of a strong alliance within the galaxy and were able to rationalize that true strength came from such agreements.

No, what Antherumberbane took most unnerving was the location of the data. A comet kept the vault moving, surely. But it was unpredictable in its movements. There was no way to be certain it would not crash into some random asteroid and break apart, or for it come into contact with other debris or even another comet! And the Remnant itself was supposedly indestructible, sure, but Antherumberbane was pretty certain no one ever tried throwing it into a sun. Tens of Thousands of years of data could be lost in an instant, all because someone trusted the path of a frozen chunk of rock hurtling through space. The idea made Antherumberbane feel queasy like he stood up too fast from meditation. Still, he had been assured by the powers that be that, while the schematics for the vessel were vague to prevent tampering, it was unlikely that anything short of complete atomization could all out destroy the Remnant.

An alarm beeped on a device strapped around their third appendage, and Antherumberbane gave it a tap with his fourth to answer it. A message played, at first quietly in a language they could not possibly understand, followed by an automated translation in the same tired inflection and tone as the one speaking it. The recorded message played directly into their auditory bone.

“This is Stephanie Martins of Earth. I am calling an emergency assembly of the Catalogers. Please be in attendance at Primary stardate 17-85-1800.”

Hi Reddit! Rest is here:

Antherumberbane listened to the message again. Human emotion had always eluded them. Humans had the benefit of experiencing emotion brought about by chemicals in the brain, thus allowing for the evolutionary advantage of their emotions affecting the state of their body, turning anger and desperation into uncharacteristically amazing feats of strength, speed, and creativity. Many theorized this was how they became the apex predator of their planet without showing any outward traits of a common one. They had not so much fought their way to the top, but survived and out-maneuvered it. Still, there was what Froxins would describe as… sadness? No, more like exhaustion. Stephaniemartins- No, Stephanie Martins, humans had separate names instead of combing them. They could never remember naming customs of all the different planets, a weakness on their part. They had always instead defaulted to stating each members’ full name and title to be safe. Stephanie Martins had always had an air of defeat each time she discussed her home planet. Antherumberbane could understand why. They were still a primitive species when CAPS found them. They reminded them of the Froxins before the Atom Wars, petty and prideful, yet capable of change and great things. There was much to be desired of Earth, though he doubted Stephanie Martins would see it in her time. Give it a century or two, Antherumberbane thought, surely they will come around once they are comfortable with their new galactic neighbors.

Antherumberbane boarded Their private starship and activated the slip drive. They set their destination for the citadel and watched as the stars and planets warped into unfamiliar shapes and sizes. As the slip drive bend the space around it to appear next to the citadel, Anterumberbane gave pause to the message they had received. An emergency assembly was not uncommon, at least they had experienced a few. While it is true that Catalogers mainly work for posterity and they were not allowed to share information with their home plants, it did not mean that the information collected was never used. Catalogers were sometimes tasked with solving galactic issues that no combination of planets could solve. By pooling knowledge, classified and not from each planet, they could privately come up with a solution without involving politics or risking cross-contamination of government secrets. They would present the solution but not how they got there, and it was a very efficient system. Plagues were stamped out in a matter of months, treaties were drafted, and even advances in technology were spawned from these meetings. What trouble Antherumberbane is what problem Earth could have that would warrant an emergency meeting. Earth was a part of CAPS, but they still very much kept to themselves, determined to solve their own problems with no outside help, much like the impulsive adolescents they had on Flotilla. Yes, young and unabashed pride seemed to be a universal trait in sentient beings.

On the other hand, the fact that Earth’s Cataloger had called for an emergency meeting could show a sign of good faith. The humans were finally making use of the shared resources that CAPS had to offer, the first step into trusting the other planets of the alliance. This excited Antherumberbane and they became suddenly determined to put forth their best efforts to prove to Earth that they were there to help.

Slipping out of the Stream, Antherumberbane docked at their private port for Catalogers. They gathered their materials from their office on the ship and made their way to the meeting area. Along the way he met with another Cataloger, Grzx, and they walked in tandem to the meeting room. More accurately, Anterhumberbane strode on his tentacles whilst Grzx propelled himself forward with his fins using a backpack-like device that his people created to simulate swimming on air. The Yoliths were strictly an aquatic species, sporting no legs and many fins on their torso area. Though they had developed a pair of small limbs for manipulation, Antehrumber could not help but think that Yoliths had done the most effort in acclimating to an alliance filled with mostly land-based beings. Though he did appreciate their naming customs. One name, pure and simple.

“Morning keep you,” Grzx said, a traditional Froxin greeting. Antherumberbane always appreciated the small efforts Grzx would make to appeal to other species. They returned the favor.

“Good currents to you as well my friend.” Antherumberbane tilted their long neck down in appreciation and respect. “Do you have any inkling as to what Earth may be calling on us for?”

“Only that it is about time that they ask for it.” Grzx’s translator made his speech sound garbled as if he was actually speaking from underwater. “My home planet was becoming anxious in the face of Earth’s reluctance for collaboration”

“Many Froxins agree with that sentiment, though personally, I feel their reluctance is not unwarranted. Not two human lifetimes has passed since they made first contact. They are allowed some caution.”

“Regardless, their isolation bodes dark tidings. I understand their reluctance to put forward their own cooperation, but refusing it from the rest of the galaxy? That doesn’t seem natural.”

Anterhumberbane gave a slight pause before saying, “Collaboration is not something that can be easily undone. Once you invite another’s culture into yours, it is very hard to separate the two.”

“They have already chosen to enter the alliance. We did not force their hand in this matter.”

“Perhaps not, but we forget what it was like being the only sentient beings known to our homes. The prospect of such a discovery could shake the foundation of any culture.”

“True, it still perplexes me though.”

“It has also been a long time since CAPS has discovered a new sentient species. Many thought we had dried out our galaxy of such phenomena. The remote Sol System had been out of the way for many travelers, and it was a miracle they were discovered before they made it out of their own solar system. But these things take time, my friend. How long till the Yoliths came out from their watery abode.”

Grzx gave thought to that, then added pensively, “We had three generations of rulers before we officially gave our efforts to the cause. It took two more to agree to one of our own being a Cataloger.”

Antherumberbane gave a please expression. “And the humans have offered their own Cataloger in just one generation. Give them time, Grzx.”

Grzx gave a small grunt, conceding the argument. “ I supposed it does not matter now. Earth has asked for our help. Perhaps the solution we can provide today will finally allow them to come out of hiding.”

Antherumberbane gave a small girdle of approval. They headed to a large room with a large black reflective floor. In the center was a gold round table, hollow in the center making it look like a large crescent moon. In the center of the table was a small circular podium, where holograms could be displayed showing diagrams, maps, and other visual aids to assist during such meetings. It also acted as a place for Catologars to make speeches or present arguments, allowing them to turn 360 degrees to address all of those present equally. A large dome topped the room fitted with one-way glass that allowed them to see the stars dotting the expansive space that lay beyond. Many were told this room was designed so that Catalogers could always look out and remind themselves why they do this. Antherumberbane loved that idea the most out of his fellow Catalogers. It made them feel a mixture of inspired and nostalgic.

The other members had already arrived, making a total of 28 representatives of different species, humans making the 29th. Stephanie Martins had not arrived yet, her chair noticeably empty. Not surprising, however, as humans still preferred to travel at light speeds rather than using the more expedient slip drives. After giving proper greetings and asking around, it was speculated that the human should arrive any minute, as light speed was still an impressive speed and would not cause much of a delay from Earth.

Antherumberbane was speaking with Asarith, part of the small psionic Britewave species, when the doors slid open and Asarith gestured with one of its many waving policies, saying, “She is here.”

Humans were not an unusual species if unusual still existed amongst the diverse species of CAPS. While their skins could be many different tones, Stephanie Myer’s was pale, dotted with some specks of darker tones known as “freckles.” Her hair was a bright red, and her optical nerves gave a soft hue of… what was that color again?.... Ah, “hazel.” Antehrumberbane wondered why humans had a color that was only used in reference to their optical nerves, but every culture has its quirks. Everyone politely sat down, unsure as to whether to give a cheerful greeting or a more concerned one, given their unfamiliarity with human culture and the reason for this meeting. Stephanie Martins gave restrained nods of greeting as she took her place at the podium.

Antehrumberbane took his seat next to the reptilian Hamargin name KethelIkori. Harargins and Froxins shared the similar feature of having their names combined instead of separate ones or titles. He leaned over to Antherumberbane and whispered “The human seems to be in unusually low spirits.”

Antehrumberbane worried about Kethelkori’s use of the term “human” instead of her given name. That attitude did not bode well for the positive and helpful attitude that both they and Grzx had discussed earlier, but he did not take offense to his analysis of Stephanie Martins. She looked drained of all emotion. She had a great deal of moisture on her brow and was seemingly shaking. Atherumberbane tried to remember what shaking meant in human body language. They knew that could easily mean she was cold, though the EVO suit that the human was wearing should provide their preferred environmental temperature. It also could mean anger, as they remembered some of the human literature they had tried to consume in order to understand them better. The phrase “shaking with anger” had been a common one throughout. Perhaps the emergency was cause for such outrage? Though her brow was not pointing down, as is a common trait of angry humans. No, this wasn’t anger. Perhaps…

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I have a message from my homeworld that I have been instructed to read to you now.” Stephanie Martins said.

The translator mimicked her tone and emotion. Antehrumberbane put it together now. It was not sadness they had heard on the recorded message and it was not anger or cold that caused Stephanie Martins to shake so. Her voice quavered in a way that was not unfamiliar to them. It was the same inflection they had when their partner was diagnosed and the severity of the disease was revealed to them.

It was fear. Fear that was about to give way to despair.

Patreons above, this must be worse than they thought. Antherumberbane showed their full attention, as did many other who came to the same conclusion. Each was prepared to listen intently, offering any information they could provide.

Stephanie Martins took a long pause, acknowledging the shift in the room. She breathed deeply before saying, “First I want to thank you all for your help and companionship. You have become some of my closest friends and I just wanted to say that-” she trailed off, and Antherumberbane heard something unusual. For a split second, he thought he heard a high pitch tone that faded just as Stephanie Martins finished talking. He looked around. Others who had similar auditory processing showed their concerns. Antherumberbane was about to speak, but Stephanie Martins began talking again, this time with more determination to prop up the fear.

“This meeting has been called for those present to witness this declaration. For too long, Earth has felt the cold oppressive heal of CAPS and the pressure to become one with its members. For too long, Earth has been expected to give up its valuable resources to an organization whose values are heavily skewed. You talk of peace and posterity, yet you neglect the now. You talk of those who come after us and pay no mind to those who are here now. Your alliance is built on the flimsy foundation that all species should agree with you and do whatever you say. No more.”

The room was stunned silent. Many species showed anger and confusion on their faces and scoffs. Others showed concern. Antherumberbane did not know what to think. What could be gained by such insults? The CAPS has not asked for nearly as much as this speech would suggest. And oppressive? This does not make.

“As for the Catalogers, you find yourselves in a position above us. You observe all the galaxy’s secrets yet do not share them. You only use that knowledge when one of your own deems it necessary. You stay in your Ivory towers, deeming where and when you can use this power. No more.”

This broke most of the Cataloger’s calm and composed demeanor. There was a terrible uproar from those who firmly believed in the Cataloger’s purpose. Grzx was one of the most vocal, stating his discontent loudly. Antherumberbane still didn’t understand. Was this some ill attempt at humor by the humans. Stephanie Martins had moisture in her eyes now, a biological response to stress known as “crying,” Antherumberbane recognized.

Stephanie Martins continued, trembling even more. “But now we know your secrets.”

The room fell silent.

“We now know where you hide that knowledge. We will find it and we will spread it. All will be revealed for the galaxy to see. No more secrets. No more false promises. No more.”

Before anyone had a chance to react. Stephanie Martins looked up and yelled as loud and as fast as she could “THEY ARE ATTACKING THE CITADEL THEY ARE TRYING TO FIND THE RE-”

Just as soon as she had yelled, Antherumberbane heard the high pitch tone again. And as it grew to its highest note, Stephanie Myer’s head exploded, showering the gallery in viscera and broken glass from her EVO suit. Many cried out in shock. Antherumberbane shot upwards, now full-on all of his tentacles. What could this mean? Did the humans really mean to…

There was a loud scream as one of the Catalogers, a Canine-like Urgunnian, yelled and pointed at the dome. Antherumberbane looked only for a moment and realizing what he had seen, he turned on his communicator, broadcasting to all channels. Before the dome was breached by incoming fire from the unmistakable human armada, and before everyone in the meeting room was sucked out into the terrible vacuum of space, Antherumberbane broke his vow of silence and spoke a final message.

“Earth has declared war. The Remnant is not safe.”

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

TRANSMISSION: OPERATION ALEXANDRIA. PHASE 1 IS A SUCCESS. PHASE 2 IS UNDERWAY.

#long post #long #ok to rn #ok to reply #writing #writing prompt

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vicecityhq · 3 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: cigarette butts, the sound of a gameboy booting up, and bloody knuckles . With a slight resemblance to HWANG HYUNJIN of/the STRAY KIDS.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Jin, Malachi 'Kai' ALIAS: Haise Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth Age: 19 Date of Birth: October 31st, 2001 Gender: Cismale Preferred Pronouns: he/him Species: Half-Ghoul/Half-human Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Occupation: Game Developer/Night Blood lacky/Weapon’s Tech

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Pale Eye color: One dark grey, the other black with a red iris Scars: plenty of them on his knuckles, one across his nose, and on his upper cheek Piercings: Up both ears, and one in his belly-button Tattoos: both sleeves of sparse stick and pokes and little tattoos, and notably large centipede up his side and around his back in red ink. Hair color: White Abnormalities: His ghoul eye Horns/ wings/ etc: Transformed form: Before he dyed his hair and when he was younger, it would turn white and his normal eye would become the same as the ghoul one. Now that he's older he transforms almost completely with centipede esk legs out his back, and a beak like structure that resembles a plague doctor mask and two extra eyes form.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: N/A SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: English and Below Average Korean SECRETS: He is responsible for the string of 'animal attacks' that have been happening in the camping/overnight area of the park SAVVIES: Technology and Model Architecture, Electric Guitar, Drums, Bass, Song Writing Powers & Abilities: Ghoul Physiology Traits: prideful & protective

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: 10/31/2001

Date of Death: [ if applying for an undead character ]

Crime Record: Petty theft, Assault, Assault and Battery, Robbery, Avoiding Police, Assault of a Police Officer, Fleeing the scene of a crime, Drug Possession, Tampering with Evidence, Minor in Possession, Minor in Consumption and solicitation, all expunged at 18 and done in the US.

Background/Biography:

Malachi or 'Kai' Jin was a household name for the LAPD. There wasn't a week where the boy wasn't encountering the officers that hunkered down in the East area of the city. From shoplifting to being in possession the file the young half-ghoul began at such a young age only got bigger as the years went on. He'd even spent a spell in juvenile detention for severely beating another young boy for bullying and taunting a close friend of his (see:crush). Being raised by a single mother with two younger siblings, a mother who'd rather drink or do drugs to escape her own problems didn't help in the rehabilitation of the troubled teen. Fighting, stealing and making quick cash to feed the less than poor quartet was all he'd known.

The cards seemed to be turning in the delinquent's favor. At the young age of nine he was transferred to a school for the rich and incredibly intelligent, and the Jin family hadn't been rich at all, but Kai's smarts were enough to send him to the school two cities away. He leapt his way to the top of the class, a studious student that teachers tended to coddle because of his class status. Students followed suit and his entire school career in the prestigious system was a revolving door of detention and suspensions.

But as Kai got older, there was more of an issue at hand, the raising of the siblings his mother brought into the world and the money that didn't come with them. As the teen entered high school his life turned into school days and nights on the streets doing whatever he could to bring home a meal. A lot of the young ghoul's anger grew, losing a lot of his childhood to children he didn't have and for awhile he didn't want. An anger and grudge he had with his mother, even still holding her up in everyway possible. Many nights holding her hair back or making her vomit on his own, holding her while she cried or icing bruises, as if his mother was one of his own children and not the mother to them all.

The ghoul looked for a distraction, he and the other delinquents forming some sort of garage band, and who knew they’d actually be good? But his distractions didn’t stop with the song writing and the vibration of a drumset beneath his fingertips, it fell into the arms of a Chosen Child not so up to his speed, not that he minded. He’d let his friends be the ones to shield him from the life he was subjected to at home, a family of sorts trying to raise the child who not only had to raise himself, but others.

He'd never looked for his father, assuming he'd split before his mother could ever look up after his birth, and even when the well spoken, gangly man who'd seemed to linger was said to father his little sister and brother didn't cross his mind. And even when he found out that the well spoken man was his own father, he crossed his existence from his mind. Anger bubbling over at the thought of Yacht parties and Jaguars while he and his family struggled to eat daily. He chose to keep him at arms length, that he didn't need him, his money or his other family, that is until his mother's demise. He'd come home to a sobbing eight-year-old, and stoic two-year-old watching their mother's lifeless body as he trotted around a private high school.

Kai tried his best to keep them afloat on his own, using his body, or selling drugs if he needed, but the eviction notice still came after long, and Kai found himself making a very embarrassing call to the older brother he never cared to acknowledge and making his way to the Korean hub of Agdoeg to start over, a new life...maybe. But even as things seemed to shape up, the teen’s discourse with his natural hunger came blindsiding after his break up. He’d found himself being consumed by the hunger of others out of inability to control his emotions as an adolescence. Where typing code and playing video games inside a corporate building only led to him moonlighting as a killer, an animalistic instinct taking over anytime he was rattled mentally. He’s struggling to control it now, choosing to starve most days, but starving....is proving more and more difficult.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

A smirk crawled across Kai's lips, he crossed his arms, tattoos on display. Chuckles fell from the expression as he cocked a brow. Were they that dumb? Thinking he'd speak on it just that easy, "Nothing." He said again, finding it comical how the officer's faces fell. They all sighed, he'd been in the interview room for hours now but he hadn't broke.

He'd been behind the scenes most of it, toggling through the camera's he hacked into to gain access , he watched the gangs every move, from the moment they entered the bank to the moment they crawled back through the ceiling. He'd been the one to turn the alarms off, disable the code needed to get into the vault and sat back and sipped a redbull as they cleaned out the safety deposit boxes.

"I was at home, with my....I wont say boyfriend, the whole night," the half ghoul gave them another smile, "I'll spare you the details, but we had nothing to do with anything, I haven't seen nothing, heard nothing or touched nothing so if you'd unlock these cuffs I'll make my way home, I do have work in the morning, dickheads."

#vcnightblood #vcghoul #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fc #krp #krpg #new krp #oc krp #gang rp #repost due to gang change

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 5 years

Text

Fae Boyfriend x Human! Reader

I’m working on so many projects, but I’m hoping to get as many done as possible before I go back to Uni. I enjoy this a lot (if you can’t tell) so fingers crossed! ENJOY!

Reader x Male Monster

These Violent Desires

For most of your life into your late teens, you always thought you had a follower. A follower or someone who watched over you like a guardian angel. Maybe it would’ve been seen as a bit odd or creepy to some, but to you, you thought not much of it; as if you had someone to protect you.

Your mother had told you otherwise. Many times, she had tried protecting you from the world, an overprotective mother, who too, grew up in a sheltered life trapped from the outside.

You see, all things lurked and hid in the darkest of places, coming out into the light as something or someone you could trust. A stranger who could manipulate you into thinking of them as nothing but harmful, until you find it too late and you’re whisked away from a life you once knew.

You had found it odd, and it applied mainly to humans that many would’ve been given the lesson of never talking to strangers. But this applied to other species too.

The fondest memories you had since you were a child were when you would go to visit your grandmother, in a secluded part of the north-east part of your small town.

The mansion was large, with ten bedrooms, a flower-shaped rose-window in the top of the attic that you remember going up into to do tea parties. Each room was homely yet held possibly years of history.

The walls were old and decrepit: decades of some neglect could be seen from the amount of many trinkets and items your grandma Delores had collected, but it was homely, and always smelled like pine.

There was a simplicity to her large home, a rustic feel that you often didn’t get when at home, and something that always called for you to return more and more.

Your mother like her own mother grew up in a household that was filled with more paranoia than freedom. All for certain beliefs and unknown truths that your family held for years. You had been unfortunate to witness yourself many times before.

Collecting your shoes to head to the back door to the garden, your grandma there either sewing or washing the dishes would stop all to come to you. It would follow with her putting charms in your pocket and an iron bracelet around your wrist before telling you time and time after again one simple rule:

’Do not go over the line.’

It was a simple rule that you couldn’t forget, yet something so normalised with the number of times you had gone to play in the garden. The line was something simple: as if it had been drawn in salt with small mushrooms growing on the exact spot, it took up half of the garden, reaching just under the branches of the trees.

You never misbehaved when it came to that rule (simply that you were too scared what would happen and how your mother and grandma would react), so you stuck to playing far away from it, ignoring it as best as you could as you got on with your play.

But still, in the back of your mind, you thought you were being watched through the bushes like there was a peeping neighbour watching in on you, but when you looked, you saw nothing.

The swaying of the trees danced through the wind, a call and whisper that danced through the air, and then you would be called in for lunch before you got too curious.

It continued and continued until you grew old of your dolls and small play, and you got older and found little time spent at your grandmas. She soon passed away when you were in your late teens, and that distant memory of playing there was something that plagued your mind; as if calling for you.

After a few years of cleaning out the old house, your mother told you that they were going to knock the entire building down, rebuild over it, and at that moment so rushed, you had told her your words of disagreeing, going as far to say that it would upset and disappoint your grandma.

’If you and I are not going to look after it, who will?’ your mother shared her disapproval with you that evening of the news.

Your answer back to her made her close her mouth in surprise. ‘Who said I wasn’t?’

After a lot of convincing, you persuaded your mother for you to keep the house and to maintain it for as long as possible. You had a simple part-time job, but you were certain that you could just keep the house at its bare minimal in tidiness.

You had returned to your grandma’s home when you were in your early 20s, returning to a place of both nostalgia and sentimental memories. There almost felt like a place of déjà vu.

You had parked your car and exited, walking alone and quietly to the front of the door, the leaves blowing past your shoes as you opened it with the key given. The door opened eerily and slowly, a hallway of utter darkness greeted you.

You stepped inside, involuntarily wiping the dirt from your shoes out of habit when there was no doormat, going to turn the light on. No luck. Damn, a reminder to buy new lightbulbs. You thought, shutting the door and walking further in and peering through the empty rooms.

For years of being cleared out, there was still that recurring smell of pine that faintly wafted through the air, but it made you think that it was possibly due to a window being open. It seemed true when you saw the large cobwebs in the corners of the dark rooms.

It was an odd feeling returning, a feeling of forlorn fell over you like a curtain. You were sure that there was some despair that was making you feel this way: the feeling that all would go through when it came to those to remember those lost.

You stepped through every room, even the rooms upstairs, memories flooding your mind as you silently walked along like a forgotten ghost. The smell of the earth, the laughter shared in these rooms. The flower-shaped rose window in the attic. All from a childhood long lost. You reminisced.

You walked yourself to the kitchen, looking out on the overgrown garden; a wilderness that awaited you. With the key in hand, you knew there would be little waiting for you, say perhaps some forgotten gardening tools or a neglected bike with its safety wheels left on.

You twisted the key in and soon found yourself entering into a void you thought you could recall. It was as the barrier between the mortal realm had been brought down; creating a euphoric and unearthly feeling in the air, twisting it to just feel oddly strange if you hadn’t noticed deeply.

You stepped out, the trees warped into creatures and shadows you didn’t know nor recognise, encasing you in as you looked around. Even the birds sang a tune much more unknown; as if all reality had melted into the wonderland you were standing in now.

The line that was in the middle of the garden, was still there, with more mushrooms and flowers that had grown so that it had now been a line made from flowers.

There soon suddenly came a found of sweetness that filled the air, a sound of music that fills your ears to not exactly know where it was coming from.

It was all so peaceful you felt, walking closer to the line, a concerned voice of Grandma Delores warning you. ‘Don’t go over the line, remember? They certainly will not be as kind to you as you are to them.’

You never wanted to question what she meant by them, for most of the things your mother fed you as your grandmother being half-mad had been supplanted into your head since young. You, however, had your question answered when a dip in the trees and bushes brought your attention, and when you squinted your eyes from afar, you could just about see the figure standing not so hidden in view.

Your heart dropped a few metres down as if you had jumped from a cliff, a rush of adrenaline came to you as you were questioning whether what you were seeing was true or false.

The figure grew bigger into your view as whoever it was, stepped out further into the clearing. You would’ve begun shouting for them to get out of the garden for trespassing; perhaps even one of the young boys trying to get his ball back by crawling under a broken fence?

But this was no neighbour nor boy, no, what stood a few metres by the trees was that of a young man, tall and willowy, you would’ve believed if you had blinked, he would’ve disappeared - for his sudden appearance was something that surprised you.

He was ethereal and celestial; a man who even looked and stood there in a way that didn’t look like someone from your world. He had hair straight and long, black as a coal pit, but made his skin look paler and porcelain than your childhood dolls. He was dressed in garbs that were rich in deep autumnal colours, and what contrasted the clothes of his rich-looking clothes were his eyes.

His eyes are full of aeons of wisdom, the colour of nothing you had ever seen from others; the colour of alexandrite. His face was sharp and lean; with high cheekbones and a heavenly look.

Albeit there was a strange man in your grandma’s garden, you couldn’t deny he was very handsome; an attractiveness that you didn’t see from other men.

You stared at him quizzically, unknown exactly what to say. “Hello?” You called, your voice floating gently through the air with a force more suit for divine reality.

He stared with his majestic eyes, a mysterious smile appearing on his face. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“I’m sorry sir?” You called to the stranger. “How did you find a way into my garden?”

The dark-haired male stepped out close, his long flowy dark cloak making him look as if he was levitating without having to walk, gliding closer with steps you wished he would’ve stopped in taking.

He chuckled melodically, a sound similar to wind chimes; so soft and deep that it rumbled through you and shot right through your soul. “You don’t know my dear? Hmm, that is a shame. I would’ve thought a smart little thing like you would’ve known not to speak to people like me.”

The man was soon standing just opposite you, the line keeping him from crossing it to come over, as he stood a few metres back from it, looking at you with those enchanting haunting purple eyes.

“People like you?” You questioned hesitantly, looking him up and down. You had been told countless times by your mother and paranoid grandma over not talking to strangers when you were young, but this was now when you were an adult, and you had never met this man before.

You stared at him, trying to see what was really peculiar with him, and why he was giving you such odd vibes; none that would raise flags as of yet. The more you stared, the more you thought that you could perhaps even look right into the being of himself. You couldn’t even get that with him.

The man smiled to you, keeping an oddly calm composure. “When this house was built, many had come to see it truly for itself, to see the new souls living just on the outskirts of the woods here.” He gestured with a pale hand behind him. “It was only when more, shall we say… unexpected guests started coming over more and more often to this lovely home. That was when the first owner built this ring, the line that had kept whatever out there from coming in.”

You squinted at his words, trying to take them in. “You know of this garden?”

“Why yes, each individual habitant knows of every little soul who comes living there, even I.” The stranger spoke, a harsh frown fell over his face quickly as an immediate thought floated to his mind.

“When news came over what had happened to Delores, the owner’s sweet little girl, why, every creature big and small mourned for her loss."

Your hands grew clammy in that brief moment he had said that, and a wave of the need to faint washed over you, trying to keep yourself upright. “How do you know my grandmother?” Your words were slow and cautious, downright afraid of what would come out next from the man in front of you.

The elegant man took another step just outside the line keeping him from entering, and you only just took note of the high pointy ears that were protruding out from the side of his head. The cogs inside your head were only just beginning to turn.

“Why, when little Delores had started growing more curious of the outside world and she stepped out, every creature was interested in her, and it had been her father who had come up with the genius plan of creating this line, drawing the bad things away and to keep her safe. It had been done so for as long as the winds continued to blow and the sun continued to shine. And still, this line had helped ones like you from crossing over into the threshold of this land.”

You had been thinking back to the English lit lessons from high school, to what all had been told about during plays and stories of what you believed weren’t true. It couldn’t be– it just couldn’t. Grandma was mad, but never… never did she say anything to me about the land of the fey living just outside of her home.

You took a cautionary step back, now making sure to not take your eyes off of the man you believed could only be a fey. “You… you know me?” You tried to pick the right words to say to him, hearing of how you had to be smart around one of his kind.

He kept his fixed expression on you, tempting in ways as if he was trying to drown you in the alexandrite of his gaze. “I’ve seen you since you were a youngling, always too curious for your own good. It was always something that brought me coming back to you.”

You unintentionally gulped. “You wanted to see me? Even when I didn’t know who you were, or what you were?”

“Precisely.” The man smiled broadly. “And yet, this from a sly mistake your grandmother made, and this fairy line would be brandished as a punishment for all that came wandering back.”

“You clearly know more than I? What happened to her?”

“Let’s just say…. a fey unlike I wasn’t as kind to her as I to you.”

That could explain why grandma Delores was filled with such paranoia. In your short lifetime, you had never told that your grandma had been possibly attacked from a young age; not even mom had told you anything about it and you knew how protective she was of you too.

All because she had potentially stepped out of line. You had been sheltered all your life from answers, and you were unsure whether to believe the fey right in front of you. You did know faes could tell the truth - the amount to it you were uncertain of, or whether they could twist some of it.

You brought your gaze to the dark-haired fae once again. “A so-called fae who has known me for all my life, yet I do not know you.” You bit your own lip momentarily, uncertain whether to pursue. “Is there a name I can call you?”

His eyes twinkled in contrast to the little sunlight coming in through the trees, a soft glow coming to his skin that couldn’t have been coming from the sun.

“You may call me Erolith. And you, my dear?”

You gave him your nickname given to you since your younger days.

Erolith bowed his head in respect. “I shall be seeing more of you I assume my delight? Until then.” And with a swish of his heavy cape, the fey in front of you had slunk back into the woods, disappearing quickly before you could even think twice.

Curious, cautious, wary… words you couldn’t describe how to feel that day when you thought you had been lied to or been fed the untold truth. All because your grandmother had thrown caution to the wind that she had made you stick to being showered with overwhelming amounts of protection.

You hadn’t told your mother that day of going to the house, telling her you had been there and out in a matter of seconds - a lie you knew she wouldn’t think much too.

You returned during the weeks of the cooler season, sometimes there for hours on end to just bring in things to clean out the rooms and to leave as soon as possible.

You had found yourself in the darkness of the attic, sitting cross-legged against the wall as you read beneath the flower-shaped rose window. It brought an immense amount of memories to you to remember, but you enjoyed staying here in the quietness of the house, away from the world.

You read books and reread them over and over again, this time trying to familiarise yourself with some classic plays and novels during your late teens. This time, you had Romeo and Juliet in your hands.

These violent delights have violent ends. At first, it seemed vague to you during high school, but now, seemed to make a lot of sense.

You closed the part you had been on, gazing forth from the window as you stared on into your garden, certain you would see the fey again.

Erolith hadn’t returned in the few times you had come back, not at first, but you were sure he was watching from a distance. You weren’t bothered by it by much, sticking to sorting out the house, and soon it could be someone else’s problem.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes from lack of sleepless nights when your eyes focused on the certain silhouette of a figure emerging from the foliage.

You had dropped your book quickly, heading down to the garden to see him.

He was found standing right in front of the fairy line, closer to it than the first time he had come forth to you, standing there in the opening as if not bothered if another would see him there.

“Erolith…” his name was odd on your tongue, a name you found was still delightful and sweet of sound to taste. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

He had turned to you with a gaze so familiar with eyes of calmness. “You didn’t think I would come back to see you, my dear?”

Damn him and his beautiful looks. You thought, walking to him but not standing as close to him. “You wanted to come back here?” You asked.

“Careful now my dear, you mean to say wished.” His tone darkened for a moment, your heart thumping in your chest, ready to implode.

You reiterated. “You wished to come back here? Why?”

“Because of you.” Erolith coolly responded, taking note of how far off you were conversing with him. “You stand so far off as if waiting to run off the moment something seems off.” invited the fey, “come closer to me. I won’t bite as you think I will.”

You wavered. “I’m fine here, thank— I appreciate it though.”

Erolith obliged, and the two of you just spoke about anything that he would answer that wasn’t cryptic. When he isn’t telling you things that sound like riddles, you grow mildly frustrated; thinking about exactly everything he said and the meanings behind every word.

“My grandmother once told me there is always something to be afraid of, that the world is awaiting things bad for me that hide with smiling faces.” You begun, eyeing the fae with a quick sharp look.

Erolith chuckled an airy laugh, mirthless. “Well, she is not wrong there.” And when you looked to him to clarify, did he continue. “All the worst things come to snatch those innocent enough. The sweet naïve child, the blushing maid. They’re all for taking when it comes to most faes?”

“And what about you? Do you follow those rules?” Your words twisted to add him into the mix, your eyes staring him down. He didn’t look in shock nor surprise by your words. And either he was trying to tell the truth or was struggling to lie, he was a good actor.

“I’m not like most faes my dear.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him, but there was something that you could find beneath his words that were hiding. Something hidden that was begging for you to trust him. In your mind, it seemed weird, but you couldn’t deny maybe you could perhaps fight fire with fire and go with your mind than your heart.

“I trust you then.”

His broke into a broad signature smile, spread over his pale face with relief. “I’m glad.”

The next few days you brought things from home to set up camp to a sleepover for a few nights, maybe thinking that not having to drive over constantly would save you gas. It was more in a case to familiarise yourself with the old house; trying your best to not seem scared when you sleep in a dusty sleeping bag in the living room, staring up at the ceiling the entire night.

The days you didn’t sit in the attic, but in the garden, reading or humming softly or even napping, but all just to wait for your friend. When he did arrive, it surprised you into thinking he must’ve sensed you there, but deciding not to question it.

At first, you sat far as possible away from him, watching from a safe distance and continued your conversations with him. It was only when on one day that you sat a few metres from the fairy line, picking growing flowers to create links from scratch.

Erolith didn’t say anything to that, copying you and sitting in the grass, continuing to speak with you as you exchanged small daisies to each other with some effort.

On the fifth day of doing so, you had decided to question where he stood when it came to deciding to keep coming back to you or to even holding conversations with a mortal like you.

“Sometimes I think you just come back here because you’re bored.” You spoke up, not meeting your eyes as you continued fixing the daisy chain in your fingers, “I suppose I can admit I was nervous around you.”

“You were?” Intrigued was the only word you could think of that made you think of Erolith. “And what would you say now? Still horrified at the sight of me?”

You met his gaze that split second, and immediately wished you could look away. He was already staring straight back at you, waiting, with a look you didn’t want to decipher. You gulped, your words dry in your throat.

“No– no I wouldn’t say so anymore.”

Abruptly he was stood before you, standing just inches away from the line as he stared down upon you. “Test this theory out then my dear. Come please– over to me.”

Your mind raced but your body was already programming yourself to slowly and steadily stand to your feet, neglecting the flower chain as you stepped over it.

Inching and inching closer, you thought back to your grandmother and what she would think. Mainly stupid and perhaps gullible in believing him. But from what you could tell of Erolith, he was funny, smart, and intellect, but she would’ve said it was his way of drawing you in closer.

Like drawing a moth to a flame. You breathed, soon standing just before him. He was a few inches taller than you, you only reaching his collarbones, and having to peer up into his beautiful eyes. The fairy line was touching your feet, begging you not to overdo it.

Erolith smiled shyly, reaching a hand for you. “Please, I want to touch you.”

These violent delights have violent ends. You reached for him, and tentatively, you put your hand into his. Warm and soft you didn’t expect that from him, but you were more than expecting the fae to have really smooth skin compared to yours.

Erolith hummed in approval. “That’s it– just like that.” He softly spoke, like talking to a wounded animal with no indications of harming it. You felt flushed under his gaze, blushing as you didn’t break eye contact. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head as you pulled away, quicker than you could expect. Withdrawing brought a coolness to come back to your skin as if you had been brought back into your own world and body.

You stared at him with awe and wonder, thinking to yourself as to what you had done. “I wonder how Dolores would’ve reacted had she of seen you now.” Grinned the fae. “She wouldn’t have been most pleased.”

You shook your head, thinking that for a split moment, you could hear the familiar song and mirthless chimes coming from the distance, shaking your head to dismiss your head with such thoughts.

This continued and continued, days and days on end as you got closer and closer to Erolith, the barrier-breaking between the two of you. Slowly and with what you thought could be trusted, he broke your walls and allowed you to be more open to him, asking more questions and being open to answering ones he had for you, touching him and even going as far as to read with him.

You grew more appreciative of him, his time he spent with you as you the nagging feeling in the back of your head grew less and less; telling you it was better to have a friend around than none at all.

You were sat reading silently to yourself, leaning into his back as he sat facing away from you on the grass. Back to back, you held the book with one hand, your hand reaching over to his side over the line to hold his, feeling his warm fingers trace and squeeze and hold you back with much attention and adoration you had ever felt in your life.

“I will have to go soon, my dear. The evening is nigh and you still haven’t eaten. We wouldn’t want to ruin your evening, would we?” Erolith had brought your attention back to reality, as you shut your book with a quiet sigh.

“I’m not hungry.” You said, turning your head back to him as he grinned. “And besides, I can spend more time with you.”

“Wouldn’t you want to share the company with another instead of I?” Erolith suggested softly. “Have you no worrying mother, nor troubled friends that would need to get in contact with you?”

You thought to your mother, whom you had fallen out of talking with over an argument. She had believed you were spending too much time at the house and away from home; as if the house was corrupting you like grandma Delores had been.

As for friends, you fell out of conversion with old ones from high school. You didn’t need them, you had Erolith now… but did he want to be friends with you still?”

“I— they don’t matter right now. Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You pouted, looking downcast as you stood to your feet.

You weren’t expecting two warm hands to come around your face, pulling your attention to flicker up to meet his soft and genuine eyes. “I enjoy every day with you, my dear. More so than anyone I’ve known compared to a beat of every millennium.”

You paused in a beat, before speaking what anyone sane would’ve called your mad for thinking. You shut your eyes as you went to wrap your arms around the fae’s waist, effectively stepping over the fairy line that was keeping you safe for twenty-three years of your life.

Erolith gasped softly into your touch as you felt him hug you back for what you wanted in forever, slowly coming to terms as to what you had just done.

“The line… you stepped over the line.” His voice a mere state of shock.

You were standing in fae territory now, and now your life was in the hands of the fae you had come to enjoy spending time with. Erolith grabbed at your shoulders, pulling you back to your senses as you stared dazed at him.

You managed to get “get back over” from him as you felt him trying to push you back over to your side, but you tried your best planting your feet firmly into the dirt. “I don’t want to.”

Erolith huffed, surprised as you were with your statement. “Faes less kind than me will come when they sense you on our side. They will be here in a matter of seconds, claiming you for themselves and making you become their personal slave.”

You breathed, planting your fingers spread over his chest, leaning up to him. “If there is one person I would want to be claimed by, it would be by you.” You caught him off guard for sure.

“Please, my life is a living hell, I find little love nor freedom here.”

“And you won’t over here if you don’t go back. Please, I beg of you, I will not take you as a slave and I never wanted to.” He said your name, adamant and serious in making sure you were safe. That was all you needed to know in believing that the fae did care for you.

You smiled sadly, still trying to get him to agree. “I don’t care. I like you Erolith, I will admit that. I enjoy spending time with you, whether you like me or not.” You may of seen insane in anyone’s eyes, but not to him. He knew of your pain, your silent suffering you had to face for all your life.

Erolith embraced you carefully, sweetly as if you were made of glass than human flesh. He was treating you like a delicate jewel, making sure to keep you from breaking. “I wouldn’t keep you as a slave, that was never my intention. You have my word. If you go with this, there’s no certainty you will be able to pass the threshold back into your world.”

The swaying of trees brought your attention past his shoulders, but he pulled his head to block the view behind him. In front of you, Erolith’s eyes were completely blown wide with wanton and adoration.

You smiled, saying two words that brought him to believe his words and set out to make you happy. Two words that made him see that you were completely trusting him and confident in what you wanted.

“I know.”

It was enough to make him sweep you off your feet and press his lips to yours feverishly, and you felt yourself float above the clouds, higher than any God or kingdom could keep you from falling or staying still.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you sighed blissfully into him, your bodies flush to each other.

The book you had been reading had been neglected in the empty garden, forgotten for aeons as the wind blew gently through the trees. For seasons would come but the sun would continue to rise.

The page left on the final page as it fluttered shut on the final words:

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.

Some shall be pardoned, and some punishèd.

For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

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moth-and-raven · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER THREE

Pounding on the door before it slams into the wall with enough force to rattle the window panes. A cool hand in mine, pulling me into the dark, resting on my shoulder just a little too long as frantic directions are whispered into my ear. Adrenaline urging me on: I’ve done nothing wrong but I have to get out of here. Skidding to a halt, panting for breath, getting my bearings as the streets turn familiar, wondering how much of myself I left behind as the silver moon against my chest grows cold...

At the very least, the hike back to the palace gives me time to think. And I have so much to think about.

I must’ve led the guards right to him. Either that or someone in the bar tipped them off, which is even worse. He’s being so careless, letting so many people see him. He swore the neighborhood didn’t think much of the palace, so he was perfectly safe, but tonight proved him wrong.

I hope he escaped. Despite his recklessness, I don’t think he really wants to be captured. And I certainly don’t want him to be. I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to tell Nadia I’d seen him, and now, after talking to him, and talking to him, and talking to him… Are my loyalties so fluid, that one night can change them?

My stomach twists as I remember his smile, his laugh, the cheeky lift of his brow when he made jokes that only landed if your mind was in the same gutter as his. Mine was, every time.

I’m not used to that.

He was friendly from the start, polite and seemingly interested in what I had to say. He led me to a quiet table in the back of the bar, away from the clusters of patrons playing cards and telling outlandish stories. One of them hailed him as we passed, with an invitation to join in, but he waved them off. He asked again if I wanted anything as I sat down: I don’t drink, and I told him so. He smiled and brought me some water instead, along with a beverage for himself that smelled strongly of salt and tonic water. I was able to get a few sips in before I fell so deeply into our conversation that I forgot it was there.

It’s not that I can’t talk to people. I wouldn’t be a very good shopkeeper otherwise, even if transactions are cordial with a regular script most of the time. Of course I can’t be sure how I appear to others, but I think I come across fairly pleasantly. On the surface, at least. And that’s okay with me. It’s when I want anything else, anything more meaningful, that problems start to arise.

It doesn’t happen often, that desire to go further. Just wanting to be friends is rare, and beyond that are dangerous waters I am ill-suited to explore. Dating, even flirting, are mysterious and foreign. I don’t understand them or people who do them like love is expected and commonplace. Like the fascination I feel when I visit the menagerie in the Heart District, it’s as though I’m observing another species through a wrought-iron fence. Even romance novels seem like instructions for a situation that will never happen.

Only once before have I met someone I considered a possibility, and that was years ago now. He was a musician who played for crowds in the marketplace and would duck into the shop sometimes. I felt awkward at first, not knowing if I should talk to him or just let him linger, but eventually he struck up a conversation, and I responded. It took months of jokes and friendly banter, but I worked up the courage to ask if he wanted to go to dinner sometime. And he laughed. And he said there was someone else, and that I should’ve known that.

And he was right.

I haven’t seen him since. He made his point clear: no one could ever be interested in me. They have no reason to be. I know I shouldn’t have been so affected, but it really just confirmed what I was afraid of all along: I am, at best, an acquired taste. I'm not feminine and I don't try to be, even though people read me as female. No one would describe me as beautiful. My face is too round, my body too fat, my hair too short, my eyes too small, my hands too big… I'm too much. I'm quick to judge, quicker to hide, emotional and hard to live with. And clearly, I tend to assume the worst of people.

I know all of this. It's just easier to make jokes and cry about it later, where no one can see me. It's better to beat people to the punch and take off the pressure of pretending to care. It makes more sense to prepare for the worst and get it than hope for something else and be disappointed. That's why it doesn't surprise me when Asra leaves: why would he stay? I'm nothing but a burden to him. I can't imagine being anything else.

At this point, it only hurts when I expect things to be different.

It must be near dawn now. Julian and I talked for hours. Of course he asked how I’d found him, if the necklace had anything to do with it. I said as much as I could without getting too technical, but that led to him asking about magic in general, and my magic in particular, and how I’d learned it and what I did with it and what, if anything, I’d done before I could wield it effectively. From there we talked about other jobs, what he had done and where. He apprenticed with a famous Prakran doctor, he said, and honed his skills on battlefields across the continent. I was pleased that I knew most of the battles he mentioned, and I think I impressed him by being able to ask which side he assisted.

And he asked about me. I learned a long time ago that people don’t like knowing I can’t remember most of my life, so I built a lie that feels like truth: I was born in a small village in the mountains south of Vesuvia, which I decided because I’m pale, though not as pale as he is, and the shape of my body makes more sense if I needed insulation from the cold. I came to the city right on the tail of the Plague, and bought the shop cheap since so many people had died. But it didn’t become a shop until about two years ago, after Asra brought a bunch of magical herbs and crystals back from one of his trips and we decided to sell them. He wanted to know how I’d crossed paths with Asra; I said only that he was one of the first people I met here.

I never asked about the murder.

The tavern emptied around us. Julian told me it was called the Rowdy Raven, for an old bird that had once lived in the rafters and alerted customers whenever a guard was about to enter. I asked why they would need to be alerted, and he leaned across the table and stage-whispered that some people around here had reputations for bad behavior. I couldn’t help but laugh with him.

If only that raven had still been around. If only someone with a bad reputation hadn’t tried to save their own skin by sacrificing his.

The sun follows me up the steps of the palace. I hope I can catch Portia and ask her to let me sleep today, but I don’t see her when I walk in and I’m too tired to search properly. The plushness of the bed doesn’t bother me now: I fall asleep almost as soon as I lay down.

As I drift off, it crosses my mind that Julian was flirting with me.

Or trying to, at least. God knows I didn’t give him anything to work with.

------

I dream of him.

The beak of his plague doctor’s mask becomes a crescent moon hanging low in the sky. He’s reaching for me, reaching for me, reaching across waves into a plume of smoke and ash for me and I can’t reach him back no matter how far I stretch. And then he’s holding my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine, kissing me like I’ve never even imagined being kissed before, and then we’re locked in a passionate embrace and he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder to muffle a grunt as he cums and even in my sleep, I blush scarlet to think that I could be responsible for that. And then the scratches I leave on his back bleed streams of red, and unbearable loneliness, pain rooted so deeply it would take a miracle to loosen, soaks into my bones until I choke on it. I wake up gasping for breath in a beam of midday sunlight.

Someone knocks on my door. I didn’t even take my clothes off when I got back, so I stumble to my feet to answer it. Portia smiles brightly at me and nods down the corridor.

“Up and at ‘em, Reyja!”

I peer blearily at her in response, with thoughts of Julian still clinging to me.

“Ooh, late night? You’ll have to tell me all about it on our way into town.”

“What? Why?”

She takes my arm and leads me towards the entrance hall. “Countess Nadia wants to catch the noon rush at the market with the Masquerade announcement, and she thought you should be there.”

I already know about the fucking Masquerade, I think irritably, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Plus you could check on your shop while we’re there.”

That’s true. I didn’t pack enough to remain at the palace for as long as I’m expected to, so I could take the opportunity to grab some things. I’ll need them: I will see this through to the end. For Julian’s sake.

I’m in too deep. I think I’ve been in too deep from the moment I didn’t arrest him, or maybe from the moment I let him walk away from my shop unimpeded. It will never work. Even if I had a chance with him, which I don’t, he’s on the run for murder. Anything we started would be doomed to end, either in tragedy or with his stealthy departure from the city to which I’m still tethered. And in any case, I would never want to distract him with all of my weird hang-ups. He doesn’t deserve that. No one does.

On the carriage ride to the market square, I do my best to shed the despair lurking in the corners of my mind. I can't tell if I succeed or not. As Portia rushes off to assist Nadia in her preparations, I slip around the corner to the back entrance of the shop.

And I freeze. Someone has been here.

The logical part of me says that it was probably Muriel, Asra’s closest friend. He swings by to check on things every so often when Asra’s away. He doesn’t like it when I notice him, but I know he’s there and he knows I’m there and we agree to ignore each other. Usually, he leaves quickly, sometimes putting myrrh on the windowsills or tracing runemarks on the doors and charging them with protective magic.

But the energy spilling from the shop now doesn’t feel like his, and he never goes inside when he visits.

Yet I still recognize it.

No.

Please tell me he didn’t…

I open the door to Julian’s heavy black coat and leather uniform, his half-covered gaze shifting from disappointment to panic to guilt as he staggers back from me. Thank god we’re not out front. The South End at night was one thing, but to come here? At the busiest time of day? He’ll get himself caught if he isn’t careful and I cannot let that happen. The palace is thirsty for blood and it cannot be his. Regardless of what he thinks of me, I have to protect him. At least until I know if he’s innocent or not. Even after that... I shove him inside and quickly shut the door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss, desperately hoping that no one saw him. If he didn’t wear such an obvious “I’m a fugitive” outfit…

“W-well, I was, ah. I happened to be in the neighborhood and—”

“In the neighborhood? Why?!”

He still doesn’t give me a proper answer, stumbling over several sentences before settling on one: “I know you must be suspicious, catching me breaking in again. I swear on my… Hmm, what would you like me to swear on? Well, anyway, I swear I didn’t take anything.”

“I’m not worried about that!”

“Aren’t you? That could open you up to all sorts of trouble.”

“Oh, I’m going to be in trouble? Nadia is outside in the market square right now! You would’ve walked right into her and half of her guards.”

"Did she suspect anything with you coming back so late?"

"What? No? I didn't tell anyone where I was going, or why."

"Good, good. No other trouble? No one followed you or, or harassed you, or—?"

This is not the most pressing issue right now. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He lets out a long breath and some of the tension in the room fades. "Thank god. I felt awful, the way we left things. I just had to know you were alright.”

Oh. I deflate and step back from him. I suppose it makes sense to come here for that, since he couldn’t walk up to the palace and ask for me. But he shouldn’t have put himself in so much danger after such a close call. And what was his plan anyway, to just stay here until I came back? Still, at least he’s hidden at the moment. Both of our secrets are safe. “I’m— Thank you, but…”

He grins through his embarrassment and fixes the collar of his coat; it had flipped up when I pushed him through the door. “If you ask me, we ought to stop meeting like this.”

I can’t stop the blush from flooding my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I just wonder how many crimes I can commit in front of you before you get fed up and drag me to the Countess yourself.”

Don’t do this. You’ve fallen for it before. “You’ll have to try something besides trespassing.”

“Oho? Shall we experiment?”

Oh my god. What the hell is he doing? “I don’t really think you should be adding to your rap sheet right now.”

“Are you going to report me, Reyja?”

“Are you asking me to report you, Julian?”

He laughs. “You can do whatever you like with me. I’m rather agreeable.”

Seriously, what the hell is he doing? “Sure you are.”

“How can I prove it? Hmm. Are you quite certain I didn’t take anything? You have some very nice little crystals here, so easy to slip into a pocket and waltz away with.”

“So your one-up from trespassing is petty thievery?”

He shucks off his coat and lets it fall to the floor. “Why don’t you search me and find out?”

Is he really trying to flirt with me? Again? Or is he trying to goad me into something, so he can mock me for thinking I would ever have a chance, like the last guy did. I can stand a lot of things, but being mocked cuts me to the core every time.

I could run. I could laugh at him first. I could do what I’m supposed to be doing and tell the guards he’s here.

But— but he’s asking. He asked. Wouldn’t it be his fault, if I took him up on the offer and he hadn’t actually meant it?

And if he does mean it…?

“Alright.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I’m as surprised as he is that I did. But after he blinks it away, he smiles. “No need to be gentle,” he says, beckoning me closer. “Search until you're satisfied. I won’t bite unless you tell me to.”

He’s calling my bluff with invitations like that. How many times am I going to have to learn this lesson? Shouldn’t once have hurt enough? I need to back down, apologize, run and hide like I always do and never see or speak to him again. I shouldn’t be seeing or speaking to him anyway, given that I’m responsible for bringing him to justice.

But I’m in way, way too deep. So deep I can’t see the surface anymore. All I can see is him, his broad smile and cream-pale skin, the curls of auburn hair that fall over one eye, his arms spread as if to draw me into a warm embrace…

I move to stand in front of him. He’s so tall; his collarbone is at my eye level. But he’s watching with interest, chewing on his lip as he waits for me to do something.

Am I imagining it, or is he blushing too?

Physical contact is a luxury. I barely get more than a pat on the back or a handshake most of the time. To have an open request to touch him feels inappropriate, much more intimate than our few hours of conversation merit. I must be blazing scarlet, for how hot I feel. But I reach up and rest my hand on his shoulder, then run it down his whole arm. He’s strong. I can tell that even through the thick leather of his uniform. He shifts so I can feel the other side too, his forearm and his wrist. His palm, his long, slender fingers.

The heavy black lines and scar tissue of the murderer’s brand, as much a part of him now as everything else.

I hold my breath as I circle around him. He has such beautiful broad shoulders. I wonder, briefly, if he could carry me, and flinch away from the idea just as quickly. Even in my imagination, it’s too farfetched to expect. He almost turns around with me, but stops with only a tremble to give him away. I keep one hand on his waist and skate the other over his back, following the line of his spine beneath his jacket.

I flush even more when I recall my dream, how I carved bloody crescents into his skin in the throes of—

He sinks to his knees, breathing hard with tousled hair and a shaky grin, hands bound behind his back, chest bare and gleaming with sweat, peering up at me as he waits for my next command.

He flexes into my touch and I startle, drawing back. He couldn’t have known what I was thinking, could he? Of course not. God, but I hate how good he looks like that, how eager and desperate to please he is, how simply and completely he trusts whoever he’s submitting to.

And I hate how jealous I am that that person isn’t me.

No. No, no, no. Stop it. Stop it! Why do I torment myself like this? I have no right to want him to want me. He's so ridiculously out of my league. But I have to keep him here, keep him safe. I’ll bear the pain of being laughed at if it means he won’t be caught.

I follow the crest of his hip to face him again. To my surprise, he’s beet-red, looking anywhere but down. I see why immediately.

This can’t be real.

“Um.”

He laughs, not nearly as self-conscious as I expected him to be. “You should be flattered.”

“I-I mean, uh, I am, but—”

“Mm?”

I swallow hard, willing words to come to my aid. “You like this?”

“I don’t dislike it, if that’s what you mean.”

That is what I mean, but it can’t be true. “You don’t know me well enough to be that excited just to see me.”

“Yes, well. It’s been a long time since…” He trails off. My mind eagerly fills in the blanks: since anyone’s touched me like you can. But he doesn’t voice whatever he’s thinking, and he’s definitely not thinking that. “And as I said, I don’t dislike things like this.”

Things like this. How familiar is he with things like this, I wonder. Regardless, I’m sure he’s well ahead of me. My experience is limited to books I hide when I’m done with them and however vivid my imagination decides to be. That’s my experience with everything, really.

“Or people like you.”

What? What?

He’s looking at me again, leaning down slightly to meet my eyes with a hint of a genuine smile, and—

“Ilya?”

We turn as one, both trying to shield the other from whoever just spoke. Fuck, it’s—

“Pasha?”

Portia’s standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. I realize like a lightning strike why she seemed so familiar when we first met: despite their height difference, even more drastic than ours, they have the same nose, the same heavy-lidded eyes, the same wild red hair.

“Ilya, you idiot, what are you doing here?!”

“I was—”

“No, no, you have to go! You have to! If the Countess sees you, she’s gonna—”

“I know, I just—”

Portia breaks into a wild stream of Neviv, scrubbing angrily at her tears. Julian responds as he scoops his coat from the floor, conveniently hiding himself while he prepares to leave. It sounds like he’s apologizing, desperately, for something that’s weighed on him for a long time, but she doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood.

And suddenly, she sees me. “Reyja! I, um. Please, please don’t tell Nadia!”

It takes me a second to remember why she thinks I would. “Of course not.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you! And I won’t say anything either, I promise. If my big dumb idiot brother can stay out of—”

The royal salute cuts across her voice. Nadia’s announcement must be starting, which means that all this has to end. Now will be the safest time for him to escape, with everyone milling around to see what all the fuss is about. All three of us come to that conclusion at the same time.

“I’ll go with him,” Portia says, eyeing Julian testily. “Gotta give him a piece of my mind.”

“And I’ll deserve every insult you can throw at me, Pashenka, but—”

“No buts!”

Julian pauses, standing between us, and looks back with an unreadable expression. If I didn’t know better…

“I’ll catch up with you after I get him out of here,” Portia says to me. “Nadia wants you with the rest of the palace staff up on the dais. You should be able to go around the back and no one will notice. Hopefully no one will notice us either.” She grumbles something else in Neviv and scowls, then peeks outside and looks up and down the street before grabbing Julian by the elbow and hauling him out of the shop.

They’ve disappeared by the time I close the door.

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

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#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #reyja north #julian devorak #moth & raven

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maruzzewrites · 4 years

Note

4 For illuso 👀

4. “You think that I’m watching you? Don’tflatter yourself…”

Content warnings: yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking, mention of drugs, Illuso is a warning, idk you punch him but I don’t think that requires a warning.

You were a new addiction. Not to his own team,entering the hitman group of Passione was a feat, and not suited to someone assoft and delicate as you. Usually, they didn’t even consider someone part ofthe team until they completed their first mission, the probabilities of dyingway too high to call someone a comrade without proofs of their valor as anassassin. No, you weren’t built to be a hitman, you joined on of the group thatwould handle the drugs, that would sell it to innocent teens or ruined adults;in a way, Illuso could consider you way more cruel than his group, with the wayyou would let people sell away their life while looking them in the eyes.

That’s what he thought, at first. He knew yourname, your address, your job, but he missed everything that would really piercetogether the puzzle, reveal you to him with disarming vulnerability. That waswhy he would sneak around the mirrors around you, as he did for all the newmembers of Passione, collecting information on you as he was a researcher busywith a new, unknown species. There was nothing more to it, you were simplyanother little piece of paper on the pile he kept in his room, ever careful toknow everything about anyone who could cross him.

That was how he saw it, a little glimpse in yourintimate, inner life. When you were stationed in some dark alley, waiting for aclient, when you slipped something in their pocket alongside with the drugs.They looked confused at your words, and he tried to lean in as much as possibleto catch what you were saying. He could hear properly, but he could understandthe gist of it, the meaning behind your worried words as you almost begged theperson in front of you to rethink their choices, to seek help. Illuso couldonly stare with astonished eyes, and note down this little quirk of yours on anotebook that he would keep on him.

And you did the same thing, time and time again,with any client coming near you. Your silent rebellion to the action ofPassione, against its business, intrigued him just like a pathetic soap operawould; fruitless, dull, yet he could keep his attention away from the new, softrecruit trying to save the day, save the outcasts. As if you didn’t see them asscum and rejects who deserved to be used and abused, it didn’t matter how manytimes they got violent at your attempts to help them, no matter how many timesyou were punched, slapped or pushed to the ground. He would always find you inthe same spot, standing up with a somber face, but a will of steel.

Illuso didn’t even notice when the pages of hisnotebook were about to finish, filled to the brim with data on you. Yourfamily, your friend, your likes and your dislikes; he didn’t need any of that,he never got anything about someone that wasn’t strictly tied to theeventuality of a mission against them. He committed to memory how you talked,how you moved, as he was hoarding every memory he could. And you didn’t evenknow his name, you didn’t even know of his very existence, yet he wasn’t toobothered by the thought. Almost like there was no reason for him to fear, as ifhe couldn’t lose you in any way when you were so focused on your plan to ruinPassione from the inside.

His actual worry came the moment he truly riskedhis life during a mission; death looked him in the eyes, but didn’t manage todrag him wherever he deserved to be, yet he was left shaking in the wake of hisalmost lost life. Then, his mind wandered to you, to the notion that youwouldn’t mourn him for the simple reason you didn’t know him. He was plagued byyour presence, by the idea of you, yet you got to live your peaceful routinewhile he was stuck with your image burned into his mind. The mere idea ofsomeone having that kind of power over him, of not being in control of his ownworld, he couldn’t bear it.

And that was the reason he approached you, oneday, at your usual spot. Looking at it from the other side of the mirror wastruly a weird occurrence, but the sight of you seemed to bring a smug grin onhis face. You, on the other hand, looked quite confused, and looked around,behind him, everywhere, to catch glimpse of your usual client who called youthere. Illuso simply stopped right in front of you, waiting for you to speakfirst.

“Can I help you?” Your tone wasn’t harsh, itwasn’t cold or dismissive, merely baffled when someone you didn’t know gotclose enough to your isolated location. His smirk only widened when he was youpurse your lips, to the side, almost too adorable to belong to a dealer,despite your inner good intents or deeds. He argued with himself if he wouldbend his knees, just to piss you off and have you at eye level, while thesilence stretched and deepened the wary look on your face. Finally, he spoke,“You could.”

After you raised an eyebrow to his ominousanswer, he added your name to the statement, making your eyes color withapprehension. You looked around once again, but this time it was to scan thearea to find any type of help or escape route. When your gaze rested once againon his face, you questioned his knowledge of your name, and his grin transformedinto a toothy threat at your obvious fear. Just as he was about to give you theanswer you were seeking, anger flashed in your eyes at the sight of hisarrogance and you accused him, of spying on you and of being a creep. That,gave him pause.

“You think that I’m watching you?” He probed, hiswords simply met with indignant silence. He chuckled at first, his head thrownback until he just let out a bark of laughter, as you glared at him with flamesalive in your gaze. He was aware that he was just doing that, watching you; hewas aware his pretend self-satisfaction at making you rethink your ideas wassimply a ploy to delude himself into having some sort of high ground. And withthat awareness, he simply sneered at you with all the venom and hubris he couldmanage, “Don’t flatter yourself…”

Before he could get even more complacent,bragging and rubbing in your face his advantage, his role in the ranks ofPassione, he found himself yelping in surprise with the sudden contact of hischin with your fist. He was a big enough man that he could survive a singlepunch, but the sheer surprise of the act made him recoil and growl at you,before you turned from him and run away. He watched your back, your figuredisappearing with the narrow streets of Naples, and he entered the mirror worldwith swift, hurried dash.

The walk towards your house, towards his personalaccess to the place you deemed the most secure, was long, slow, yet he wasalmost sprinting to reach it. You didn’t know about him, and this provedfruitful for this instance, as you closed the front door with innocent obliviousness.Illuso, his jaw still aching slightly, grinned at the thought. It would beeasy, and you will never really get rid of him; after all, he couldn’t get ridof your either.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #illuso #illuso x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #that punch? caters to me #i love a smug bitch but i also love punching a smug bitch y'know?#Anonymous

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potteresque-ire · 4 years

Text

Happy 30th Birthday Good Omens!

... and here’s a quick ficlet as a present! Aziraphale/Crowley, fluff, based on the Good Omens Lockdown video released today. 😇❤️😈Given the rewards of burglarizing one bookshop in Soho and no one would ever equate burglary with socializing, it is only logical for one demon to slither in and test his luck, as a rather noodly burglar.

ETA: Crowley, I mean, the noodly burglar, mentions Hamburglar in the story. For those who’re too young (or who eat too healthily) to remember Hamburglar, he was a character from McDonald's and here’s his image: https://mcdonalds.fandom.com/wiki/Hamburglar.

=====

That night, AZ Fell & Co had its second break-in in a week. The burglar was transcendentally professional in his burglarizing, donning the black-and-white-striped attire as required by the human thieving tradition and complete with a face-covering (in accordance with both the tradition and NHS guidelines). He didn’t forget, either, about The Big Money Bag with its Big Dollar Sign that signalled intent. The bag got a drinkable inside because burglary was thirsty business, and because the thirst of this one burglar was particularly, (un)fortunately undeniable.

The burglar was, of course, caught red-handed (and -bellied) by the owner of the bookshop. Mr Fell had, rather curiously, been baking a Kirschtorte in the middle of the night. A bowl of miracled, brandy-soaked cherries sat on the cash box that had somehow been transported to the kitchen.

One could almost suspect that Mr Fell had been expecting a crime.

Almost.

“Wily old serpent,” admonished Mr Fell, picking up the burglar by the neck with his plump hands, floured white and smelling of butter and sugar. He narrowed his eyes at the pair peeking out from the cut holes of the burglar’s face covering. “I should’ve known there’s no rest for the wicked, even during a lockdown.”

The burglar, who, indeed, fine, was a snake (and his black-and-white-striped attire a tube sock; now please shut up and mind your own business), half-heartedly wiggled to try to set himself free. Half-heartedly, because cool criminals never wiggled.

The burglar was also presenting his burglaree a placard from his money bag.

“Give me your cashbox,” the placard said. “I’m burglar-ing.”

“Burglarizing,” corrected Mr Fell, acting quite gay for a burglaree. Couldn’t blame him, for even the burglar had to admit the kitchen smelled good. “You can talk in human as a snake. Why don’t you?” The interrogation would’ve gone on if not for the ding! from the oven. Perhaps this was why Mr Fell’s question lacked the surprise warranted by the situation, per the customs of Earth and its humans. Perhaps this was also why the burglar found himself dropped on the cherries (and the cash box), in not so much a I-shall-fling-you-to-a-scaly-death way than a have-a-snack-if-you-want-while-you-wait way.

The burglar would later respond to the question with yet another placard. Yes, he got one ready. “Loose jaw, long tongue,” this placard said. “Tried fitting on masks that stop droplet transmission from talking. Didn’t work.” The burglar slithered out of the way for Mr Fell to move the cherries onto the freshly baked torte -- every cherry but for the one the burglar had coiled around, along its now alternatively glossy and pebbled circumference where the flesh had been licked and nibbled. Cherries or any food, really, were more palatable with alcohol -- ah, no, the correct term for alcohol tonight was disinfectant. Poison. Smuggled into the bookshop in the money bag also to lower Mr Fell’s guard, ensure the crime would go smoothly. As it would evilly. “Plus,” the placard admitted then, “going for the Hamburglar look.”

Mr Fell looked up, perplexed.

Another placard materialized (say what you want about the burglar, but he was prepared)(...and bored out of his wits at home)(...and really kinda missing someone enough to imagine the entire conversation). “* Sigh *” — yes, that was how this placard started — “Think of Hamburglar as Zorro. Designed by one occult but dashing entity. Tempted many children into coveting.”

“Ah.” Mr Fell looked demystified at the answer, as if any bookshop owner would concur that wearing a Hamburglar-Zorro look while burglar-ing ... burglarizing on his property was perfectly reasonable. While being a snake. During a pandemic lockdown.

Either that, or because the presentation of the placards had revealed the bottle of drinkable in the money bag. “May I?” asked Mr Fell, already reaching inside. The label of the drinkable had been scrawled over. “Disinfectant,” tempted the writing in the same wild hand as seen on the placards. “Inject to fend off the plague!” Inject was underlined and the next sentence capitalised: “This label is not sarcastic”.

Mr Fell stared at the not-sarcastic-but-absolutely-wily temptation, and the burglar took the time to drag a set of silverware and a tumbler to his end of the table. Mr Fell, apparently abysmal at the maths, had retrieved two sets from his cabinet instead of one, and it was only reasonable, and suitably diabolic, for the burglar to covet his share. A look of epiphany soon crossed the bookseller’s cherubic features, perhaps inspired — very much inspired— by the rich amber liquid sloshing behind the label against its glass walls. “To thwart your wile, then,” Mr Fell spoke of his epiphany belatedly and thoughtfully, addressing more so to the disinfectant bottle than to the burglar, “to stop the occult work of a good-for-nothing burglar in its tracks, I shall have to drink this poison before you can ejaculate in me —”

CRASH.

A fork clattered on the floor.

And the burglar had forgotten about his lack of mouth-covering too, along with the use of his tail for proper fork gripping and really, the use of his every other organ for every other grand, ineffable tasks God had possibly created them for. He ejaculated in human speech, no, not ejaculated, injaculated, no, wait, injected, ejected, oh oh oh interjected that’s right. “Inject, Angel, for Heaven’s—ugh—whatever’s sake! Inject!”

Mr Fell was remarkably unfazed by the rather human screeches, and more disturbingly, the accidental endearment from his serpentine burglar. Instead, he surveyed the damage done to the fork, the plate that’d tipper over and the burglar half spilled from it with his tongue a quarter tied (side effect of ... ejaculating in another species’ language). He did it all with a rather holier-than-thou flair, his chin so slightly raised, his gaze moving measuredly, majestically from one damage to the next. He did it all before a tiny twitch, no, no, a smirk, that’s what it was, no mistake about it, tugged the corners of his lips.

“Inject, of course. Inject.” But he agreed solemnly, putting back on his usual air again of a tranquil if a bit stuffy professor, the type who’d give you an A if and only if you could quote from his favourite book. (”He was overcome by sleep; and as Paul continued speaking, he fell down from the third story and was taken up dead.” — Acts 20:9) “What other unholy words could I possibly have spoken?” He placed an emphasis on unholy, his blue eyes widened and doe-like with innocence, but the hint of Kirschtorte in his tone more Schwarzwälder than Kirsche.

At that, the quarter-tied tongue of the burglar could’ve won a scouting knot award. Mr Fell must have known it and his plump hands, miracled clean just to showcase just how buttery smooth and sweet and flawless they already were without the cooking stuff, proceeded to give the neck of the disinfectant bottle a long, loving stroke, and repeated doing that twice for good measure before uncorking the bottle. He swirled the liquid inside and gave it a sniff, all the while looking quite smug.

Ngk. The burglar had been played.

The rest of the night has gone as well as it could. Mr Fell has enjoyed with his cake the disinfectant, smokey and as finely aged as expected from its year and origin. The burglar, meanwhile, has enjoyed, no, he’s endured, suffered greatly and painfully, the act of coiling up on the plate he’d dragged across the table and watching his burglaree eat. No social distancing rules have been compromised because one, criminal activities do not count as socializing, and two, what’s distancing anyway to a serpent who can social distance his tail and his head at will? And right now, that long, long tail of the burglar is in the shadows under the table where no angels or demons or God or NHS can see, curled around Mr Fell’s ankle and caressing that soft, soft skin under the sock because ... well, because Mr Fell, because this dangerous, book-hoarding, cash-box-toting being with a cake kink, has to be chained in place while his burglar is about to ransack his shop. Yes. The cashbox is no longer satisfying enough for a loot. The burglar will ransack. In a bit. After his tail gets a taste on Mr Fell’s calf, maybe, just a tiny lick, if Mr Fell is amenable to that. If the width of the leg hole of Mr Fell’s trousers is amenable to that. Or the burglar can do the ransacking tomorrow. Mr Fell mentioned he’ll be making angel’s food cake and at this moment, the burglar is very much for the idea of angels for food. His dips his tongue into his tumbler of disinfectant again to quench his unquenchable thirst, the tumbler under which still lies the placard that explains, while humans have transmitted the plague to their pets, there’s yet to be instances of pets transmitting the illness back to their favourite humans.

“Pets, huh?” That was all Mr Fell has said about it, a breathy ask with an upward glance from under his long eyelashes. The burglar pulled out that placard as an act of courtesy, to assure his burglaree that while he’d be lighter on cash and heavier on disinfectants after the ordeal, he wouldn’t have to worry about catching the plague. And what gratitude was the burglar given for his niceness? That one, breathy huh?, followed by the sight of another one of those shiny, drunk cherries slipping into Mr Fell’s mouth, of his lips, red and just as plump as the cherry, following the fruit’s swollen curve and opening just enough to show a hint of his teeth, the delicate tip of his tongue. The closing of the mouth came with a small, wet smack, as Mr Fell’s lips pursed just a little ...

That’s it. That’s why AZ Fell & Co, The Bookshop from Hell — not that there’re bookshops, or books, or shops in Hell — deserves a break-in from a pet, no, a burglar every night. The burglar, specifically the one who was sent to this world to make trouble, will make sure of that. He’s got lots of placards at home and even more markers. And tube socks. And more importantly, fend-off-the-plague-injectable disinfectants from every year dating back at least a century, from every wine country of the present and the past. Mr Fell deserves to have his cash box forcibly removed from his shop every night because he’s an outright BASTARD — and one day, one day when this stupid pandemic is over and this stupider lockdown is a done thing, the burglar will have his real angel food, made of every blasted cherry being oh-so-daintily popped in the mouth across the table from him...

He’ll set his alarm for July — nuh-uh, June — to have it done.

#good omens lockdown #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #good omens 30 #pie writes

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the-gedonelune-times · 4 years

Text

Chapter Four: Classes.

Summary: Gedonelune, the prestigious royal magic academy is waiting just for you! The door has opened a whole new world of possibilities for your future. For the next thirteen days you’ll be undergoing the provisional trial to see if you have what it takes to become an official student. Along the way you’ll be meeting new faces and going on exciting new adventures. But be warned, shadows are being cast on the land, if you dive to deep, you may find yourself being swallowed up by the chaos. Your journey begins now, will you be able to banish the darkness?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

My body moved sluggishly as I made my way to what I hoped was where my first class of the day was taking place. Despite having followed directions that were given me, I had been second-guessing myself all morning. Perhaps staying up all night writing letters to Lily back and forth was a bad idea, especially since today was my first day of classes and I desperately wanted to leave a good impression. I checked over my direction list once more before putting it away, this was definitely the room.

Inside I could already see people rushing to pick their seats, others were chatting with friends without a care in the world, while at least a couple had their heads lying down on the desk. I took a deep breath before walking in, hoping to not draw any attention. I was already feeling nervous enough, I didn’t need any staring to be placed upon me.

As I navigated my way through the class, I found a nice spot near one of the corners in the middle. There weren’t a lot of people there, so I chose a seat next to the wall where there was no one else sitting near. I placed my stuff on the desk, prepping myself for whatever it was that was about to happen. Just then I heard a small pop and a piece of paper came floating down onto my desk. I read the contents, a smile on my face when I realized it was from Lily.

‘Hey, today’s your first day of classes right? I want to wish you good luck! Oh yeah, that reminds me, Willem should be teaching one of your classes at some point, tell me how it goes! Actually, scratch that, tell me how every day goes! I can’t wait to hear back from you.’

I quickly stashed the note away, putting it in my bag. I would have written her back, but with only a few minutes before class, it wouldn’t exactly be the wisest decision. Still, I couldn’t for when I had a chance to write back. Her words, even though I couldn’t hear them, oddly made me feel warm. A few minutes later the bell for classes began to ring out and everyone began to scurry to their seats. The door opened about a minute later and in stepped a man with gray hair. He had a kind face as he stepped to the podium in the center of class. His eyes scanned the room and when they fell onto me he smiled.

“Ah, I see you’re the new student. Would you please introduce yourself to the class?”

Standing up slowly, I cleared my throat. “Hello, my name is …” after giving my name, I slowly sat back down in my seat.

“Thank you. I’m happy to have you attend my class. My name is professor Merkulova and I hope you’ll find the academy life enjoyable. Now, let’s begin today’s lesson will be about potions, today we’ll be making different potions, each one with healing properties. I’ll be having ingredients for all three appear on your table, along with recipes for each one. You’ll be able to choose one which will be used on an Umbra near the end of class. You’ll be graded based on the effectiveness of it. Oh, one more thing, after preparing the potion, you must use the incantation ‘Eliminate that which plagues, Bono malum superate!’. Now, let us begin. Aperio!”

With the swish of his wand, a number of ingredients appeared on our desks, my eyes scanned over each one. I wasn’t the most confident in my ability to make potions, so I went with the most simple one on the list; a potion that would diminish the pain from headaches and migraines. I looked at the paper in my hand and grabbed what I needed which was one ginger root, a bundle of peppermint and a lemon wedge. I read over the steps carefully, grabbing my jar, making sure to layer the pieces of peppermint neatly. Once I was satisfied with it, I grabbed my wand and held it up, rolling up my sleeves as I did so.

“Eliminate that which plagues, Bono malum superate!”

A small light began to build at the tip of my wand before shooting out in the form of a small ribbon which nestled itself into the jar before turning to liquid. I wasn’t sure what colour the potion itself was supposed to be, but here before me was a jar with lavender colored liquid. I put my wand away and at that very moment professor Merkulova came over to me. He looked with interest at my potion but said nothing as he continued making his way around the class. For some reason, I was overcome with nervousness that stayed with me until the end of class when we started coming to the front to test our potions.

I watched with interest as one by one, everyone began coming to the podium. A new Umbra was summoned every time and although no one had failed their potion, there were some who had weaker effects than others. When it was my turn to come to the front, I almost tripped over my chair. I calmly recollected myself and navigated my way up there. Merkulova was waiting with a smile and with a swish of his hand a new Umbra had appeared. A bright red pulsating light at the top of its head indicated that it was in severe pain. I handed the potion to the Umbra, who quickly took it in their own hands and drank it rapidly.

I watched with bated breath as the light began to grow dimmer and dimmer until it was gone completely. I looked over to Merkulova who nodded in approval.

“Well done. Your potion has completely healed the Umbra, you’ve earned a perfect score for this assignment. If I may add though, next time, try to be more confident in yourself. You have great magical potential.”

Hearing his words made me practically grin from ear to ear. The smile on my face hadn’t left for a good amount of time, even after classes for the day was over, I was still overcome with joy. I practically had a skip in my step as I made my way back to my dorm, eager to write and tell Lily how classes had been.

‘Classes went well today, I got a perfect score for my potions class and I attained high marks for my others. I will admit, some of the classes are a bit challenging and there are times where I wonder if I’ll be able to pass the assignments for the day. I’m excited to see how it keeps going and I promise to keep you updated for the others.’

Once I finished writing, I gently folded the paper and watched as it disappeared in a puff of smoke. While waiting for a reply, I decided to work on the assignments that were given for us to work on back at the dorms. I was nearly done when I heard a small pop, noticing a small paper unfold on my desk. I quickly opened it and began to read.

‘I knew you would be able to do it! Don’t worry too much about what could happen, focus on doing your absolute best. At the end of the day, you should be proud of your accomplishments. I believe you’re going to pass all your classes and make it as an official student. That was your goal, right? Keep it up and you’ll get there. I can’t wait to hear more about the academy life. I’m kind of sad I can’t be there to experience it too.’

I chuckled as I began writing another letter. This continued for the next couple of hours until it was time to call it a night.

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

The next couple of days of classes went well, I had another class with Merlkulova and I even attended Willem’s class, which I excitedly told Lily about. She seemed rather surprised that Willem was teaching a lesson regarding rare species of plants, considering that wasn’t one of his strong suits. Regardless, she was thrilled to hear more about my day and was even more excited to hear about what would happen tomorrow. I was about to write another note when I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, I was surprised at who it was.

“Persephone? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how things were going. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I opened the door all the way, allowing Persephone to come in before shutting it. She took a seat on the sofa near the wardrobe, crossing her legs over each other while looking at the stack of letters I had that were piling up.

“Who in the world are those letters from?”

“Huh? Oh, a friend. We met at the tea party a couple of days back.”

“You know, there’s an easier way to communicate so that you’re not wasting all those magic letters, you know.”

“There is?”

Persephone gave a small nod. “Yeah, have you ever heard of a magic phone? As long as you and the person you want to talk to have one, you’ll be able to ‘call and talk.”

My heart seemed to race a little as I listened intently to what she was saying. Just the thought of hearing Lily’s voice again was making my cheeks feel warm.

“Where can I get one?” I asked.

“There’s a shop in town that sells them.”

“Oh….”

“No need to look all gloom and doom.” Persephone sighed. “That look doesn’t suit you at all. Besides, one day I promise to take you into town sometime soon. You can go look for one then.”

“Wait, are you being serious?”

“I’m not going to sit here and be dishonest with you. I mean what I say. Anyways, I’ll let you go on about your evening. I need to get things ready for the first class of the night that I have to teach. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Without another word, Persephone got up from the sofa and left the room, shutting the door behind her. I looked over at the nearby clock, it was well into the evening and quite honestly now would be a good time to try and get some rest. I changed out of my school uniform and into some comfortable nightwear before slipping into bed. It only took me a few minutes to fall into a deep slumber, but despite all the sleep I got, I still felt relatively tired. I would have loved to just crawl deeper in the covers and fall into another blissful trip into dreamland, but alas, I had earlier classes than usual today.

I took a shower, got dressed, and took the marker I had for my calendar, crossing off another day. It’s been four days since my trial started.

“So far so good. I hope I can keep this up.”

I only had nine days left, well six if I didn’t count the weekends when there were no classes. At the rate the days were going, I was sure that the final day of my trial would be here in the blink of an eye. Which was a little worrying. Would I even make it? No, I had to shake my mind of such thoughts and push forward.

I walked into the classroom with confidence this time, sitting down where I usually was for classes. I kept reassuring myself that today was going to be just like all the other days, I had to believe in myself. I had built my courage up with small pep talks to myself, but it all went tumbling down when I saw who walked into the classroom. It was Schuyler…

I gave a small gulp as I watched him make his way up to the board. He had his arms crossed as another person cam in. He had blonde hair and was wearing a Ministry uniform, one that was taught to us in one of the previous classes. He had a stern look about him and for some reason, he seemed almost….regal. I had the color drain from my face though when I saw the two of them standing in the front of the room, side by side.

“Everyone to your seats, now.” Schuyler’s voice was sharp as he watched everyone retreat to their seats if they weren’t already there. “Classes for today will be held outside, so I ask that everyone follow me in an orderly fashion as we head out to the courtyard.”

After speaking, both Schuyler and the man beside him led the way to the courtyard. I had only been here briefly a couple of times, but staying here for the amount of time that we would be, was somehow relaxing.

“Today for class we’ll be practicing offensive magic spells. We’ll be using the four major elements and use them to dispel the Umbra. Now, can anyone tell me the four elements?”

Not a single person raised their hand, so Schuyler decided to call on someone, that someone in particular...was me.

“Go ahead and tell us what the elements are.”

“Earth, air, fire and water.”

“Well done. It appears you know basic knowledge.”

I don’t know whether I should take that as a praise or not…..

“Everyone please grab out your wands. Apareo Umbra!”

Just like Merkulova had done in potions class a few days ago, Schuyler waved his wand, producing an incredible number of Umbras. But unlike the Umbra that Merkulova produced, these ones were able to attack. I forced myself to stay calm and collected as I went after a small group of Umbra that strayed from the rest. I pointed my wand at the group and shouted.

“O great wind, become a blade! Acies Ventos!”

A bright light shot off from my wand as blades of winds slashed through the Umbras. With loud cries, they began to fade into nothingness. After watching them dissipate, I looked over to see that the numbers of the Umbras were dwindling drastically. I knew I had to act fast if I wanted to amass enough points to get a good grade in the class. I took a deep breath, not knowing if it would work, and held up my wand.

“O great power, dwell within mine hand and form a shield, Magia Terra!”

Though it was pretty weak, I had managed to successfully cast a barrier of the earth element to surround me. It was probably only strong enough to hold back a couple of attacks at most, but it was much better than nothing and at the very least it would give me a little bit of time to cast a flurry of different spells.

I chased after another group, focusing on casting larger spells to attack bigger groups. I had done a pretty decent job at eliminating a good number of them, but I was feeling extremely sluggish by the end of it all. I dropped my barrier as I slowly made my way to where Schuyler was. With the flick of his wand, a scoreboard appeared before us. I was a little saddened to see that I wasn’t at the very top, I thought I had given it all…

“You’re the new student, right?”

The man that had been standing over by Schuyler had made his way over to where I was.

“Ah, yes sir, I am.”

“This is your first time dealing with this kind of magic, right?”

“Well, no sir. But it is my first time actually using it for offensive stuff like this. I’ve never used it fighting…”

“You did relatively well considering your skill right now. But you still have a lot of room for improvement. Keep that in mind when you practice at home. If you want to become a student here officially, slacking off will not be tolerated. Especially when I’m the one teaching furthermore…”

Even though it was only a few minutes, it felt like hours had passed by before the man had finished his lecture and left the area. I let out a sigh as I watched the other students making their way back to the Academy, except for one, who looked back at me before heading back my way.

“What in the world just happened? I saw the other professor come and talk with you. He wasn’t too hard on you was he?

One of my classmates, a girl who I had become friends with in the class that Lars had been teaching that day, came up to me with slight worry.

“Not really, but he’s uh, rather confusing.”

“I’ve heard he’s always been like that though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, hard to imagine that the second eldest Goldstein is this awkward.”

“Oh that’s -- wait….did you say Goldstein?”

I watched as she let out a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s professor Goldstein. Klaus Goldstein to be precise. I guess he was seen as some prodigy or something like that. But I’ve also heard some stories about how scary he was back in his days as a prefect.”

I could see the whole ‘being scary’ bit...

“Anyways, I’m heading back to the dorms, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

I watched as she left and I put my wand away before going back to the classroom to grab my things and head to the remaining classes before heading back to the dorms for the day. The walk back seemed longer than usual today, maybe it was because I had a lot to think about. My magic wasn’t bad, but this is the second time that someone has told me to be more confident in my powers. Perhaps some afterschool practice would be helpful. I sighed as I entered the area of the Night Class dormitories and found Persephone leaning against the wall. When she noticed me, she began to speak.

“Perfect timing. I was just about to look for you before heading to class. We need to discuss something.”

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

Nadia: Hm….

Persephone: Something up? You’re not being so annoyingly happy today.

Nadia: *Smiles* I’ll pretend that was a compliment. Anyways, what was it you wanted to talk with them about?

Persephone: You’ll find out in the next chapter ‘A Day Out and Meeting The Potions Master’.

Nadia: Huh? Potion master? Who in the world is that?

Persephone: Find out for yourself.

#shall we date?: wizardess heart #wizardess heart+#wh fan route #The Three Seals Series #The Queen Of Forgotten Time #Nadia Zaidelle #Persephone Onyx #Lily Bloom

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benscursedkid · 5 years

Text

Rebekah Roberts Profile

hope i’m not late :)

template by the genius @hogwartsmysterystory

Identity

Name: Rebekah Marielle Roberts

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (in game)

Birth Date: December 12th, 1972

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Sexuality: Open

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British

Residence: London, England

MBTI: ENFP ~ The Campaigner

The Mage

Wand: Beech Wood, Unicorn Hair Core, 11”, Swishy Flexibility

Animagus: White Owl (not registered)

Misc. Magical Abilities: slight Occlumens, Legilimens

Boggart Form: varies throughout the years, as of sixth year though, Jacob’s research journals— a lot of it is his research but closer to the end of Everything, things became illegible and crowded and she tried to ignore it before, but after all that went down in the Portrait Vault, she doesn’t really think she can anymore. Or if she even wants to.

Riddikulus Form: A Funny Photo Album or Coloring Book

Amortentia (What do they smell like?): Lavender, Peanut Butter, Parchment Paper

Amortentia (What do they smell?): Calvin, Peanut Butter (again), Freshly Washed Clothes/Laundry Detergent

Patronus: Grey Owl

Patronus Memory: One of her family’s annual Girls v. Boys soccer matches from Before

Mirror of Erised: Her family whole, happy, and all together again

Specialized/Favorite Spells: She really likes domestic spells to make idle things easier and anything to do with color (i.e. Colovaria), Silencio

Appearance

Face Claim: none

Game Appearance:

Height: 5’2 (161 cm)

Weight: 133lbs

Physique: Slim, Average

Eye Color: Light Green

Hair Color: Black

Inventory:

Her brother’s notebooks

Her wand

A random assortment of quills with colored ink

A bag of packaged peanuts

A light reading book

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations:

Prefect

Head Girl

Order of the Phoenix (eventually)

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Professions: Curse Breaker

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★★★★★★★★★★

Charms: ★★★★★★★★★☆

DADA: ★★★★★★★★★★

Flying: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Herbology: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

History of Magic: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Potions: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Transfiguration: ★★★★★★★★★★

Electives: Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes

Extra Curriculars: Duelling Club, *Honorary Member [of]* Astronomy Club

Favorite Professors: Flitwick, McGonagall

Least Favorite Professors: Trewlaney

Relationships

Brother: Jacob Kane Elian Roberts

Born: June 6th, 1968

Sign: Gemini

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Acacia Wood, Thestral Tail Hair Core, 11”, Supple Flexibility

Age wise he’s only 5 years older than Rebekah but because of her late birthday he’s six years ahead of her in school

Actually had a rather light, playful sense of humor

Very sociable while in school and many people liked him

Very inquisitive and bright and his happiness and adoration for fascinating subjects was downright contagious

Very athletic and wanted to try out for the Quidditch team and enjoyed muggle sports like soccer and volleyball

Extremely gifted in Charms and DADA

Quite artistic and could play the piano (taught by his mother) and ukulele and was talented at drawing and painting

Taught to speak Bulgarian by his father and French by his mother

Fascinated by muggle history

Had the biggest sweet tooth imaginable, especially when he was nervous

Had a bit of a mad scientist vibe going for him but in the absolute most endearing way possible somehow

Loved to learn and try new experiences

Never ever without a novel or his sketchbook on hand

His dad got him really into photography

He really appreciated having Duncan and Olivia around, they were his best friends

And now they’re both gone and he can’t help but blame himself

Who else is there to blame?

Tries not to think about it though

Honestly he’s the biggest dork

Is completely enthralled by nearly everything, he’s just learned to tone it down a bit so people don’t notice

Definitely stays up for hours with existential thoughts and queries running through his head like a mantra

Like, really, why are daffodils yellow?

Truly loves learning for the sake of learning, knowledge for the sake of knowledge, wonder is his middle name

Not really but he likes to wish

Logic and reason are just as fascinating to him as things like creativity, imagination, abstract thoughts

Like why are they? How are they?

He needs to know

Everything’s a mystery and he wouldn’t have it any other way

Duncan couldn’t understand it but he tried to pretend he did

And Olivia would love teasing him for it, but truthfully she was much the same way

Also, show him literally any animal and he’s sold, he’ll love it forever

Carried around tons of snacks in case he saw any wandering around the castle

Always

Really good at playing a part, a bit of a social chameleon, he was whoever he needed to be depending on the person he was with

Which is why no one really understood him

It made him really lonely sometimes

Was always plagued by his need to impress his parents

Weighed down by his fears of never being good enough

Got too good at lying

Didn’t mean for things to go this far

Father: Henry Delyan Roberts

Born: July 2nd, 1948

Sign: Cancer

Blood Status: Muggle

Occupation: Veterinarian but considered being a Pediatrician

When he was 13 his mother moved back to Australia for her job and he was put under the custody of his father during the year and would visit her during the summer

Missed her a lot after she moved and for a while thought it was his fault

He wondered if she moved because she needed to get away from him

He’d heard stories about her initial reaction to becoming a parent and wondered if maybe she never really got over it

Thought maybe if he was better she would have stayed

She wouldn’t have wanted to leave

It’s been a while since those thoughts crossed his mind though and he’s glad that didn’t seem to be the case

Ethnically half Bulgarian on his mother’s side and could speak it fluently and even visited his uncles and cousins there occasionally growing up

Didn’t get to seem them as often as he liked though

Being an only child could get rather lonely and though he loved his dad, he wanted someone to bond with over school or friends or literally anything else

Even so, he really appreciated having his father around

Even before his mother moved away he spent most of his time with his dad and was always a little closer with him than his mom

He supposes his dad was his best friend for a while growing up

Promised himself to be half the man he was when he had a child of his own

Very humble and patient, the kind of person you find yourself itching to be around

Always smiling and laughing, but his laugh was feather light and soft

Had an amazing singing voice

His laugh literally sounds like hummingbirds and wind chimes

Really honest and kind and loved helping people

Did a lot of volunteering as a kid, loved helping people and wouldn’t hurt a fly

Unless you hurt someone he cared about in which case you were utterly screwed

Definitely capable of delivering ass beatings but tried to avoid it as much as possible, even when people deserved it

Great listener, the one where you could be telling a story, look over and be taken completely aback by how intently he was still listening, like he was genuinely interested

Loved playing soccer

Says he loves all animals the same but he’s secretly the biggest dog person

Which is weird because he has a cat he would cut someone for but shhh

It’s a secret

Absolutely loved photography, had two polaroids, a long one and a wide one, baby blue and pastel yellow respectively

Took a lot of pictures of/with Delphine when they were traveling together

Made a scrapbook out of it

Also proceeded to take pictures of his children when he had them

Made a scrapbook out of that too

A simple man, mostly, but he craved adventure and really just wanted to make a difference in the world

Didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life after graduating high school, so he decided to take a year off to travel and find himself

Met Delphine before he even left England

Married her a year later at 19

Jacob was born about a month before he turned 21

Closed completely into himself when his son disappeared

Doesn’t really know what to do with himself now

Mother: Delphine Cécile Roberts (née Leon)

Born: January 19th, 1949

Sign: Capricorn

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Wand: Cherry Wood, Werewolf Hair Core, 12”, Rigid Flexibility

Blood Status: Pure-Blood

Occupation: Retired Auror after Jacob was born and became an Employee of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic

Born into a very pure-blood supremacist family, consisting almost exclusively of Slytherins

Youngest of two daughters

Very close with her sister (Adelaide) growing up, they were nearly inseparable and opposites in almost every way

But her parents found her very problematic

Half French on her mother’s side and could speak the language fluently, often visited family there

Though she kept up the dutiful daughter act around her parents, she couldn’t relate to them at all and never understood why they treated everyone so cruelly

Her sister was her refuge

She felt suffocated in her own house and therefore felt freed whenever returning to Hogwarts

Though kind and respectful, Delphine was very prone to her own brand of subtle mischief when attending school

Having no freedom at her own house, she felt truly free and unrestrained at Hogwarts

Even so, she often spent most of her time alone

At school a lot of non-Slytherin or non-Pure-blooded students were afraid to speak to her but she tried to make it a point to let them know she didn’t subscribe to the same morals or ideals of her parents

Her mother and father knew this and it infuriated them

Unfortunately, most people just couldn’t seem to distinguish between the parent and the child

Once again she had only her sister, but was thankful for her presence nonetheless

It hurt though sometimes when people would cast her aside, thinking there’s nothing inside her worth saving simply because her parents are who they are

Confided this in Adelaide, but the other girl didn’t seem to share the sentiment

Was a 5th and 6th Year prefect and followed in her sister’s footsteps and became Head Girl in her 7th year

Surprised most everyone but they never cared to take the time to look past her heritage and see all her grades and extracurriculars aside from Quidditch

Girl just wanted a friend

Played on the Quidditch team as Slytherin’s star keeper

Was supposed to be married off in an arranged marriage to a Pure-blood she’d never met after graduating but barely managed to convince her sister to lie for her so she could at least take a year to see the world for herself first

Tried to disguise as a muggle so she could slip out of the country unnoticed by her parents and met Henry at the airport on his way to Italy

Spent the year traveling together before getting married

Was then disowned by her parents (and her sister for another year)

Completely fell apart after Jacob disappeared

Hasn’t been the same since

{Rest of Extended Family in Separate Post}

Love Interest: Ben Copper

Best Friend: Rowan Khanna

Rival: Merula Snyde

Enemy: R, Rakepick

Dormmates:

Rowan Khanna

Tulip Karasu

Badeea Ali

[Unnamed Raveclaw Girl]

Pets:

Great Grey Owl named Calvin (Personal)

Black Cat named Sabine (Family)

Closest Canon Friends: All of them, but for sake of question—

Tulip Karasu

Rowan Khanna

Badeea Ali

Bill Weasley

Barnaby Lee

Andre Egwu

Nymphadora Tonks

Talbott Winger

Closest MC Friends:

Aisling Casey (@badeeaswife)

I’m shy but she loves everyone so feel free to hit her (me?) up!

Background/History

Ethnically speaking she is a quarter French and a quarter Bulgarian

Paternal Grandmother lives in Australia so she’s visited her a few times

Actually been to quite a few other countries and really wants to see the rest of them someday

Personality

[Separate Post]

to anyone who read of all this: i am so sorry—

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #rebekah roberts #jacob roberts #delphine roberts #delphine leon #henry roberts #hphm jacob’s sibling #jacob’s sibling #jacob's sibling x ben copper #hphm jacob #mc #hphm mc #ocs #hphm ocs #character profile

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are... Disgusting “Disease”

Hope you all enjoy please feel free to message with ideas and prompts, I don’t want to run out of material for you to enjoy.

Warning: this one is also a bit gross.

Report ID 2241569

Author Krill

Disease

Can we talk for a moment about just how disgusting humans are? And I don’t mean psychologically this time….. I mean like physically. And physically disgusting in a terrifying sort of way. By now we know that humans are excessive in every way possible, and that includes their diseases; the way I see it, there are two types of disease: the kind that start on the inside based on an internal malfunction, or the stuff that comes in from the outside and causes an internal malfunction. Since I will mainly be focusing on these outside diseases, we will be looking at mainly viruses and bacteria.

1. The common cold, this is the human trademark super virus. It is, in fact, so common, that most humans ignore it as a part of life. Most of the time, it won’t even stop them from going to work. ‘But Krill’ you may ask ‘what is so wrong about that? It doesn’t seem so bad’ well I’ll tell you why.

a. Symptoms include dribbling from every orifice like some kind of slimy ooze creature from your worst nightmares.

b. Coughing, a symptom caused by throat irritation that leads to the spread of the virus by spewing it into the air like a diseased aerosol canister.

c. And if that wasn’t enough, sneezing irritates the nasal cavity turning the human body into a disease cannon shooting nasty into the air at around 80-200 mph.

d. The most terrifying part about this? The humans consider it a normal occurrence, and in many places, they will walk into public like that to spread their germs to everyone, and no one cares. Accept maybe in Asian countries, where the humans will wear masks to protect others, or themselves from getting sick, but of course, being lucky me, we are in a western country where no one gives one shit about anyone else catching their nasty.

2. Oh, can we also talk about the human’s yearly epidemic? Yes you heard me correctly, the humans have a yearly epidemic. In fact, it is so regular and so predictable, that the humans have dubbed this viral epidemic “flu season”. Because like fall, winter, and summer the humans have a time of year where they can just go right ahead and die. Who the F*** has a SEASON for epidemics!

a. Symptoms include all previously mentioned ‘common cold” but like times 10

b. Body aches, because nothing says F*** you like a disease that makes your entire body hurt for no damn reason.

c. This pain notably includes the head.

d. And like all infections, the human body has one sure fire way to get rid of it. How you ask? Well the human body makes the executive decision to make itself the most inhospitable enviornment possible. How? By turning up the natural body temperature of the human to BURN the virus away

i. This would be fine and all if it weren’t for one little problem. The human natural body temperature is 98.6, but starting at about 105 degrees the human body stars burning its own brain and may potentially cause irreversible damage

e. Other symptoms include gastrointestinal problems (see section 3)

f. DEATH very probably death, in fact, some years the death toll rises to around 80,000.

g. And does this stop the humans from going about their daily business? NO, NO IT DOES NOT!

3. I know my last two inclusions on this list have been mostly respiratory in nature, but lucky for you, I have a fun little tidbit about gastrointestinal diseases. What is it called? You guessed it. The stomach flu or viral gastroenteritis, or an infection of the GI tract. I would honestly rather die of the respiratory flu that have to deal with this mess.

a. Can cause a low-grade fever. Doesn’t seem so bad you say, well just wait…. Just wait.

b. Headaches.

c. Stomach pain, yes, the humans can feel pain in their viscera. And that fact in itself is the most horrifying thing I think I have ever heard. It turns out human digestion already hurts to begin with, and they just don’t notice, but try getting a human to digest when their insides are INFECTED. Can be so bad, it causes the human to curl up on the ground in agony.

d. Nausea, or the extreme desire to eject all bodily contents out of the mouth.

e. Can humans do that? You ask…… yes…. Yes they can. Oh…. I…. it’s making me sick just thinking about it. So you know how humans have a digestive cavity filled with acid at about a Ph. level of 1-3….. well if they feel sick enough, their body triggers a reaction that causes all contents of the stomach, acid included, to….. shoot back up the esophagus and out the mouth known as throwing up, vomiting, hurling, tossing ones cookies etc.

i. This reaction can have enough pressure to send the stomach contents shooting out of the nose as well as the mouth. And yes, humans tell me that it does burn, its acid after all.

ii. This reaction can actually cause other, completely healthy, humans to preform the exact same action upon sight, sound or smell.

iii. Some humans have no ability to tell when it is coming, while other humans seem to have a magical 6th sense warning them of this approaching issue.

f. If any measure of stomach contents manages to last through the stomach, or was, perhaps, already in the lower directional tract by the time the infection is in full swing, digestion goes haywire, and the only option the body has is to eject internal contents as fast as it can….. out the rectum.

i. …

ii. …

iii. … I hate this species sometimes

g. Both sections 3e and 3f can and will be performed at exactly the same time, and the human has absolutely no ability to control it. So they might just…. Explode, with disease, everywhere. On the floors, on the walls….. everywhere

h. Humans consider this to be another common occurrence, like the common cold.

4. And these are just the COMMON human diseases, I haven’t even gotten into the plagues or most specifically the Black Death.

a. A 14th century human bacterial disease that killed an estimated 50 million people in Asia, Africa, and Europe the latter of which lost up to 60% of its population.

b. Symptoms first appear flulike with the development of swollen lymph nodes and eventually develop into necrosis of the extremities, seizures, and the continuous vomiting of blood.

5. Oh look where we are now BACK TO THE F***ing FLU and the 1981 influenza outbreak of the H1N1 strain, a massive pandemic that killed up to 100 million people roughly 5% of the world’s population, and GUESS WHAT some human scientists think it wasn’t ANY DIFFERENT from the current flu they have today.

a. Granted the flu they have today mutates every year, so this is generally speaking.

6. Ebola….. F***ing Ebola

a. Causes you to bleed to death internally.

b. Isn’t hemorrhagic fever so fun! J L

7. There are generally too many human diseases for me to discuss right here, but I need you to know that there are hundreds if not thousands more that can cause brain damage, disfigurement, blindness, and cause humans not to be able to move…..

a. I learn that most of these horrible diseases actually come from the fact that humans domesticated other species on their planet. Some of the more deadly iteration of these diseases aren’t even meant for the humans, but an interaction with animals passes diseases not meant for humans, onto humans.

8. The good thing is, humans are very good at making vaccines against these diseases. Some of these were even eradicated in the richer countries…..

a. But humans sometimes don’t understand a good thing

b. SOME humans REFUSE to take A LIFE SAVING MEDICATION BECAUSE THEY THINK THE VACCINE WILL KILL OR DISFIGURE THEM! F***ING MORONS! Why the F*** do we talk to these people. SOME humans are unable to take these lifesaving medications cause of other underlying conditions and REQUIRE heard immunity to be safe BUT NO! IGNORAMUSES LIKE THESE HURT MY SOUL!

c. Vaccinate yourselves, as an alien whose planet is about a few billion years older than earth, and of a species who has interactions with other intergalactic races, I know for a fact that the benefits far outweigh the costs.

9. Humans are insane, their diseases are insane, everything about earth is designed to kill you, even the stuff that you cannot see.

10. Earth is a death planet

Article 16 of The Pan-galactic Peace Agreement.

By order of the Galactic Assembly, any species either entering or having already entered into alliance with the Galactic Assembly are required, by law, that anyone leaving their home-world must provide full proof and documentation of a complete vaccination panel including all required off-world vaccinations if they are to interact, visit, or parlay with any out-species factions. Refusal to do so will bar a subject from exiting their own system.

If this law is to be broken, home world-rights are immediately foregone, and punishment will be quickly and thoroughly executed by the Pan-Galactic Penal System. These punishments include and are not limited to, fines, prison sentence, and extradition.

The Galactic Assembly has and enforces this law specifically for the safety of the species, with the knowledge that cross-species disease has the potential to cause planet-wide pandemic and annihilation. It is our desire to enforce this law most strictly, and with full purpose to protect the species under our care.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #earth is space australia

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