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ladyduellist · 3 months

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion's plans go awry when confronted with his own past.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 12: Hunt*

Ao3

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Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, CPTSD episode during sex, Cazador, Blood & Violence, Act 1 Spoilers

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Vampires are some of the deadliest monsters we may contend with. I do not relish my current mission to seek out the spawn, Astarion. But, he may be the only way we can ever see our children again. I am plagued by visions of them being carried away by these blood hungry creatures. Plagued even more by their screams that fill my mind in the most quiet of hours. Full blooded vampires become consumed with whatever they set their eyes upon. But, spawns—I have to wonder—if they were to escape their masters, would they be able to redeem themselves if they took the road less traveled?

— Gandrel of the Gur Tribe, journal entry 567

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“I suppose I should, yet again, count myself lucky: the bastard is alone,” Astarion smirked, picking a few stray leaves from his clothes. He had just returned from a lengthy scouting trip assessing the hunter they may parley with.

It had been several days of traversing rocky footpaths until they arrived in the Sunlit Wetlands. Several days of anxious nights wondering if Cazador sent more pawns to retrieve him. Several days of nothing more than forlorn glances exchanged with the songstress.

Wyll crossed his arms, concentrating on Astarion’s face. “That at least bodes well. Did he look familiar to you?”

“Not at all. Though I have met a lot of the city’s miscreants over the years, it’s possible he’s a scorned lover of a lover that Cazador convinced to seek vengeance. He had a lot of connections in the city—so it’s hard to say.”

“Let’s fucking goooo,” Karlach roared as her axe split apart a piece of log. She swiped away wood dustings from her brow, turning to the vampire. “What makes you think this is Cazador’s doing, fancy boy?”

“Oh, how could I forget that it must be one of my many adoring fans, come to shake my hand out in the middle of blasted nowhere,” Astarion replied with a sneer. “Tell me: who else could it be?!”

Of course it had to be his former master! Cazador Szarr would do anything to ensure his spawns stayed forever reliant upon him. For them to know that survival without him wasn’t possible. Astarion knew deep down that no matter how he repeatedly longed for freedom, if he showed up, without question the vampire spawn would still feel betrothed as a slave to enact his heinous mandates. Compelled or not, the attachment to him remained.

The fiery tiefling teetered her axe over her shoulder, ready to swing downward again. “Alright. Alright. As much as I’m always raring to go, I just want to be sure we aren’t getting caught in a trap, yea?”

She had a point. Cazador, reclusive as he was, commandeered powers that most were unaware. Their group was mighty, but could they defeat a vampire lord? It would be nearly impossible, but the fraction of a percentage that they could end his life for good, ignited an invaluable resolve inside of the spawn.

Astarion debonairly examined his nails. “Well darlings, I’m sure I can go about this on my own if you’re not up for a bit of potential excitement.”

“I have every bit of faith you can handle this by yourself, but I think it goes without saying that hunters are all too well-versed in regions such as these. There may be something we don’t know from what you’ve investigated,” Wyll interjected.

“Why Wyll, the famed monster hunter is going to help protect a monster?! I could kiss you! Or bite you—if that is your preference,” the vampire giddily responded, clasping his hands together as he flashed the tip of his fang.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Astarion,” Wyll chuckled, uncrossing his arms to gesture a stop signal with his hand. “Shall we say around morrow’s noon we head down to speak with the stranger?”

“I’d prefer to stab first, but if you insist, who am I to deny such a handsome face?” Astarion flirtatiously bowed his head.

Karlach visibly shrugged her shoulders, breathing out a long sigh. “Ugh, finnnne. Let’s get this good and over with before something awful happens to your pretty face and you break someone’s fucking heart.”

“My dearest Karlach, are you saying you wouldn’t miss me?”

“I’m saying that our leader wouldn’t be all too happy with any of us if we just let you sod off on your own,” she clarified firmly. “By the way, you may want to speak with Tav about our plans.”

The vampire fisted his hand near his mouth, pretending to cough. “Ahem, well, I’m sure she’s been far too busy entertaining our newest druidic hunk we’ve adopted to camp. They’ve been practically braiding each other's hair since the party.”

“Gods, you don’t sound jealous at all,” she teased. “And look who it is! Mornin’ to you soldier!”

And there she was. Trailing into camp on melodies she sang under her breath. Lavender and vanilla invisibly suffocating him with its whorls of scent around his neck.

Wyll waved in her direction. “Tav! Could we trouble you for a moment?”

Tav quietly nodded, giving him a subtle smile out of the corner of her mouth.

“Astarion just returned back from surveying the bog and it would seem that this hunter is currently alone. Few weapons, but I reckon he has the good sense to protect himself with other means.”

“The three of us are heading down to speak with him come highsun tomorrow. But, if shit goes bad, we’ll be armed,” Karlach added, flexing her arm high in the air. “Hey, are you okay? You look awful.”

“There is nothing to worry about, Karlach. Personal matters.” The bard tried to peer behind the tiefling, staring at the elven man that was clearly avoiding her. “Astarion, did you approve of this?”

He raised his head, the state of her startling him. The skin around her eyes was swollen, a glaze of wetness having long filmed over her sclera. It was evident she had been crying on and off since their last encounter. She was lacking her usual demure aura, visibly rundown.

Astarion cocked a bleary eyebrow at her. “I did.”

“Then, I trust you to handle this to the best of your abilities.”

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In the middle of the night’s air, Astarion stood outside of her tent entrance, overwrought with a queasiness burning the walls in his stomach.

After their argument several days ago, he left in a panicked state to hide under the forest canopy bordering their camp. The illusion of hyperventilation attacked his lungs—a memory of it really—as he held onto the bulwarked trunk of a tree. And then, blood spewed from his mouth. He leaned over, coughing and vomiting up a mouthful of the bear’s crimson he consumed earlier that evening.

He had charmed and manipulated Tav enough times to create the image that would steal her away like a rogue in the night. And she craved it. She wanted him to fill the role of her abductor, appearing from behind the curtains in her bedroom, to entice her with cool lips on her knuckles and sworn covenants of intimacy with his bite. Urging her to just let go.

Yet, his plan kept hitting snags.

Without a doubt, he knew his instinctual techniques were all in order. When there had been a few mishaps, he quickly adapted and switched his tactics. But, what he didn’t account for—what he had little to no proficiency in—was dealing with these people’s bygone histories for this length of time. Try as he might to reluctantly focus on the lamentable surface details of the bard and the kettle of vultures—their companions—that circled the hearth of their campfire, piles of their shit kept unearthing themselves like the carcasses of burying beetles.

And he didn’t fucking care.

Why should he? He didn’t know them. Oh, they were a formidable bunch—each having inherited an adeptness for physical or magical strength. He extended his belief in them about as far as relying on them in battle would allow him. But, what had they truly done for him otherwise? It wasn’t them that offered mercy upon his vampiric existence and allowed him to stay within their group. It wasn’t them that made sure he was properly fed, baptizing him in their blood.

No, the only person he owed a speckle of his acknowledgement was the songbird with the voice of singing jewels. Though she challenged him at every nook and cranny of their time together, she was the only one to judge him in such a way that seemed fairly balanced.

Until now.

Tav with her saintly observations, was becoming aware of his methodical ministries. Perhaps not in the sense that she could pinpoint exactly what his strategy was, but gods, her cursed awareness and the cloistered tale of her former life, filled him with enough discomfort he almost considered forgoing his plan entirely.

She knew something was amiss with him. She knew he had to be embellishing everytime he damn near spoke to her about anything other than his wretched past. So, why didn’t she make more of an effort to single him out and put him on trial? Had she been waiting for him to tell her otherwise? To correct her misgivings she was having about him.

It made him uneasy to not know. He could poke around in her mind with their worms, but that certainly wouldn’t bode well if she was unreceptive to the notion.

What an absolute shitshow, Astarion chastised when a strained laugh cut silently through his teeth.

Not to mention the realization that it was not only the façade of her companionship and intimacy he would have to contend with. This foe was clever—more so than he. It had been in her life years before him. Knew her in ways he had yet to scour. And when she tried to disobey it, it had a way of enticing her back into the comfort of its everlasting punishment.

And the name of such a formidable nemesis? Her past.

He couldn’t afford to lose her—not yet. It was too soon and far too late to humor his whims on another camp occupant. Nay, he would see this through to the end. Tav’s or anyone else’s lives be damned!

“I can smell the bergamot in your oils,” a meek voice breathed out. “You can come in whenever you’re ready.”

Astarion deeply inhaled, preparing himself to face her, knowing he may have to use his body for another nightfall to convince her not to forsake him. His performance hinged on being immaculate tonight—to be everything she wanted.

Another transaction: imitated comfort for the reinstated troth of her loyalty.

He lowered himself to his knees and opened the flap of her tent to enter. Tav sat with the used lute on her lap, twisting and tuning the pegs on her bare thighs. She struck a chord, listening intently as the sounds vibrated off the walls of blue linen, then adjusted further or moved onto the next string.

She lifted her head to acknowledge him. With the candlelight casting a golden glow across her face, Astarion thought this may have been one of the few times she possessed such a delicate lethargy.

“Is something the matter?”

“I—no,” He paused. What would be the right thing to say in this situation? “I thought it would be in my good nature to check in on you. But, if now isn’t a good time, I can come back later.”

Tav blinked at him several times, then gestured for him to come further in with a nod. He scooted closer to her on his knees, allowing the flap of the tent to cascade off his back like a discarded blanket.

“I'm not a fan of this lute, especially the strings on it, but some things can’t be helped right now. I should be grateful Alfira could even find one available for me,” she spoke softly as if he wasn’t there. “Hopefully, when we make it to a different area or even the city, I can buy a new one.”

The vampire cleared his throat, resting his sweating palms on his thighs. “There’s differences between them? I mean, of course the details are not the same, but what of the sound?”

A shallow smile formed at the corner of her mouth as she continued fiddling with the tune. “Lutes, flutes, drums, violins—any musical instrument really—sounds different depending on several factors. The material used. Strings. Weight. Length. It’s all a determining factor for the sound produced.”

“What type of wood do you prefer for your lutes?”

The messy bun pinned on top of her head bobbed as she popped her head up to stare at him. “Spruce. Always spruce. It has the brightest sound—perfect for ballads.” She pushed her bangs to the side as an afterthought, placing the instrument by her side. “I appreciate you coming here tonight, but you don’t need to pretend you’re actually interested in a music lesson.”

“My dear, I have quite the appreciation for the arts of all kinds,” he grinned. “However, since your perception precedes you, I’m here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I realized that the whole thinking part was actually a worry.” He covered his lies by slowly lifting his eyes under a refuge furled lashes to peer at her.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Tav stated, pursing her lips.

“I’ll have you know, that I could be sinking my fangs into a deer al fresco right about now, but instead I choose to be here. Now, let’s forego this game of hopscotch and chat.”

She ran the pads of her fingers along the edging of her nightshirt. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to revisit parts of our disagreement from a few days ago—if you’re willing to talk about it with me.”

He wasn’t willing, but what choice did he have if he wanted to keep up this charade with her?

Astarion cocked his head to the side to nod, flaring his nostrils with a practiced breath. “If it's truly that bothersome to you, then I suppose I could pencil you in right this very second to listen.”

He could hear the strums of her pulse trembling. She was nervous.

Blood rushed to her lips, coloring them in roses. He saw tears welling up, threatening to spill over her lower lids. She could no longer hold it in. “First of all: I’m so so sorry Astarion. What you said about ‘power’ reminded me so much of…I…I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like I did. You are your own person—not some reanimated villain of my tragedies.”

Ah, so she wished to focus on her reactions instead of the subject he hastily broached during his blood drunken stupor. How very like her to satisfy her own accountability. This could work in his favor.

Astarion would not press. Should she circle back to his unfavorable comments, well, he could always blame it on the mind flayer tadpole having deceptively influenced his mind after their encounter with other ‘true souls.’ In case he needed to change routes in the moment to suit her thoughts and actions, he made a mental note to be considerably more deliberate in reading her facial expressions.

Finding out just how much power these worms wielded, delighted the vamp. Of course they would be valuable in advancing his fight against Cazador, but directing those around him to do as he pleased? Gods.

The positions he could seat! The material wealth he could own! The liberty to indulge in all manners of debauchery and authority!

A future living side by side with an illithid creation suddenly didn’t sound so horrible.

“May I ask who he is?” He questioned, trying to inflict his tone to a more polite wisp.

She shied away from looking at him directly. Guilt-ridden and hiccuping. Tav’s lips trembled, shaking her head to refuse him while she continued to weep.

It intrigued Astarion to see the normally strong-hearted woman bearing this unknown man’s crown of thorns with the pith of his blackened blood dripping from her eyes like melted candles. Days ago, during their night’s quarrel, the soul mark behind his ear hammered rapidly to the point of searing pain when she mentioned him. This man—this incubus—still choked her with his malignant hands, even though he was probably leagues away.

The hells cracked open, And he was reborn. With evil tongues spoken, Her scrawled promises would not be mourned.

While bewitching the bard had been as ordinary to Astarion as any everyday routine, she was hiding the flotsam of her personal dogmas sundered by this same mortal, making his task all the more difficult. A heretic to her own emotions.

They were both slaves to their pasts and towed the weighted cold night visions where escape seemed nothing more than mere fantasy. And he felt something by this acknowledgment. A blink of connection to her in the form of empathy.

Empathy?

Hells, it had been so long since he knew any emotion except anger, terror, and numbness. But, empathy held dire consequences. One of the last times he felt any ounce of said emotion, cost him a year of starvation inside of that derelict burial place. The memory still seemed so fresh in comparison to the ages he’d lived. If he let himself know empathy once more, it would mean allowing himself to be in a position of the same weakness he had been in for centuries.

“You don’t understand how awful I feel for how I reacted,” Tav managed to squeeze out of her throat.

He moved further within the tent to sit cross-legged in front of her, angling his head downwards to grab her attention. “Silly creature, of course I understand how awful you feel. Your heart is literally an open wound gushing onto everyone it passes. If someone ran into you, YOU would be the one to apologize.”

“We’re still alive, aren’t we? Well, you are at least, but I do have the advantage of being ravishing forever,” he added with a quip.

The bard laughed as her body shook with sobs. Hands flew to her face, catching the falling tears with dabs of her fingertips.

“Darling.” He reached out to her with his palm up. “Come here. I can’t leave you blubbering like some muppet begging for scraps.”

Taking a hesitant breath, Tav placed her hand gingerly into the inviting salve he offered, holding onto it tightly. “A moment longer. I have more to say.”

Astarion’s mind filled with dread. If she terminated their agreement, that would be it; his protection would cease. The possibility of Cazador dragging him off screaming into the shadows, felt more real than it ever had been. Swiftly, his brain sprang into action. He would use whatever methods possible to adapt.

Touch. Comfort. Sex. Promises. Encouragement. Which would she need?

“Don’t keep me in suspense now, my sweet. You know how I hate to wait,” he smirked in his typical silvery tone.

“I’m trying to word this as not to sound like a psychotic lover here,” she laughed anxiously. “But, I have run ’us’ through my mind more times than I can count and I keep wondering if it would be best if we end whatever this is between us. Casual distractions would be much easier if we didn’t see each other everyday, but we don’t have that luxury and—“

“Do you even like me?” Tav questioned wearily. It was apparent such ideas had been consuming her.

No.

“Do I like you? I mean, you definitely have a certain set of allures about you,” he answered slowly. He wasn’t lying about her qualities—if that’s what people choose to call them—but, no, he did not care for her.

A grimace settled on her expression as she removed her hand from his.

“Were you expecting a more defined answer?”

The bard chewed at her lip lightly with her front tooth. “I’m expecting something that doesn’t feel like you’re acting on stage,” she replied stiffly. “You seem so versed in saying all the right things, but there is a pit in my stomach warning me it’s not all true. I don’t want you to force yourself with me.”

Oh, but he would force himself. His survival depended on it.

The spawn ran his hand through his curls, flashing a glib smile she didn’t detect. “Ha! Could that be your own insecurities speaking? Or shall I get down on my knees and recite a sonnet of my undying affections for you? Would you believe me then?”

Turning away, she looked past him towards the ground. “Is it so wrong for me to desire something real, Astarion?”

Hope.

She wanted hope.

He could perform hope.

The vampire enclosed her ruddy cheek with his hand, thumbing a gentle swipe across the roundest point. She shut her eyelids lazily, microscopic tears still adhering on her lashes like diamond dust.

“Don’t turn away from me, Tavelle,” he commanded her gently. “A woman that has as much to offer as you, deserves to hold her head up high and be worshiped.”

As if to confirm her yearning for him, her eyes roamed half-opened to search his face. She fisted the ruffling of his shift tightly, pulling herself taut against his chest to crash her lips fervently against his with a tight gasp.

The kiss was urgent. Delivered as if they’d both turn into smoke in an instant. Like she’ll lose me someday, Astarion thought.

He could hear her heartbeat stepping out of its darkness, begging, begging, begging him to cradle her adorations for him.

Kneading his pale lips on hers instinctually, she tangled a free hand into waves of silvery-white earning her a low hum from the deepest reaches of his voice box. “Star…,” she incanted into his mouth.

Fluidly, he reached up to unpin her hair, allowing her tresses to fall over her shoulders. He decorated his lithe digits with her silken strands, tugging her head gently backwards to drop fervid pecks down her throat. She cried out, sputtering lilting syllables of his name everytime he idly rearranged his hold on her hair.

Tav held onto his arms as he worked his tongue in circles. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me,” she pleaded, clawing at his clothes.

Releasing her hair, he pulled Tav back in to seam their mouths together. She sucked tenderly on his upper lip, grazing her tongue horizontally across it, before she finally nipped at it playfully.

He pushed his nose into her cheek, abruptly stopping them. She was short of breath, heaving in anticipation for him to kiss her again.

Grabbing her chin firmly, Astarion’s eyes flitted down to her lips as he spoke mere centimeters from them. ”You’ve slowly been driving me insane,” he roughly asserted, avoiding her want for affirmations.

She snuck her fingers up the length of him, lacing them behind his neck. Her lips parted, a husky reply threatening to swallow them whole. “What do you mean to do with me then?”

A lukewarm thumb found safety pressed against her lips. The tip of her tongue tunneled through the gap of her mouth and licked a teasing small patch of skin on the inside of it. Debauched images of him drawing blood from her tongue filled his mind. Biting and biting every inch of her supple flesh until he had his fill of her essence settling like a fine wine in his veins. He panted maddeningly at the thought, his shaft hardening immediately.

Then, the minx slinkingly shifted onto his lap, encircling her legs on either side of his hips. She undulated on the length of his bulge compressed in the middle of her soaked smalls and his trousers. Insolently, she yanked a handful of his hair. He hissed at the delicious pain now aching through his cock and the back of his head.

Pallid dexterous hands ripped the front of her shirt open, cutting buttons loose to fly into the air. The strength of his paw found her breast hiding behind the torn fabric and he squeezed it considerably, pinching an erect nipple. She moaned his name, trying to keep her body upright.

Sharp teeth nibbled a sliver of flesh near the corner of her lips. “Is this what you need? For me to take you as I please?”

Tav nodded innocently, her whole body turning flush with desire.

And then something feral snapped inside of Astarion. That spine-tingling rapacious trait that was half vampire and half carnal man. He could have her if he wanted her; whenever he wanted. Fill him with her blood just to sate him. Her life belonged to him, if he so chose to take it.

“You can follow instructions properly, can’t you sweetheart?” Astarion grumbled as he tucked strands of her hair behind her ear. A strangled noise squeaked from her mouth as she shook her head. “Good. Now listen closely: I want you to unlace my pants, push your smalls to the side, and slide my cock inside that very creamy slit of yours.”

The songstress whimpered, whilst she untied the bindings of his fly, “I want to be good for you Astarion.”

Fuck, his name sounded like the filthiest sin coming from her mouth.

He peeled back the material of her shirt from her heaving bosom, exposing her soft milkiness. Humming around one of her pink buds that popped into his mouth, he felt her remove him from his pants with a few precursory strokes. Instinctively, his gaze feasted on the light bluish veins spreading across her breasts. Just a single bite couldn’t hurt—?

“Hells,” he groaned as she sunk the crown of his cock into her clenching heat. “You like being this drenched for me, don’t you?”

“Only you…gods…make me like this,” Tav sang out, holding the back of his head while she adjusted to him inside her.

Her wetness dripped down his length as she stuffed him further into her, trickling down to settle on his testicles. A howling wail started from the middle of Tav’s diaphragm up through her windpipe when she glided up his erect prick once and came back down to his hilt. Astarion chased her mouth with his, muffling her frenzy with open-mouthed kisses.

“Shhh. Shh, songbird,” he hushed in a chuckle. “We are about to wake the lot of this camp soon.”

“I’m sorry. Just love…having you…inside of me,” she giggled lowly, kissing him with blistering ardor between her words.

Surprising the bard by grabbing under her ass, Astarion cajoled her to ride the stiff hardness in his lap. Tav hooked herself onto his shoulders, using them for support while she bounced upon him. Her tits brushed against his shirt with her movements, causing her swollen buds to stay hardened.

My prodigal son, what do we have here?

Master.

Ah, of course. Tonight would belong to the echoes of Cazador. There would be no need for the paralysis that enthralled the spawn’s body to take over, not when his master’s commands needed to be minded.

The vampire busied his fingertips by pressing them further into her flesh, focusing on her slickness encompassing all those nerves at the tip of his cock. He pushed her all the way down to his base, relishing the swaddling of her warmth around him.

A bard, hmm? Bring her to me.

Yes, master.

He reached a hand down in between them to swipe his thumb through her folds, caressing her clit in gentle circles. Tav’s mouth formed into a small “o.”

Look at her—enjoying your flesh like a whore. She’s exactly like all the others. You are only meant to satisfy her needs as a means to fulfill my hunger.

I won’t disobey you master.

“My sweet, turn around and let me fuck you from behind,” he urged mildly, trying to maintain his composure.

Astarion couldn’t let her see. He was steadily losing his grip on their surroundings, disappearing into the quilted stars of the night sky he summoned as he disconnected. If she saw he wasn’t present again, she would send him away.

Tav didn’t respond, continuing to pump his shaft with her tight cunt at a steady pace. She opened and closed her mouth in silent moans, replaced by heady breaths. Did she not hear him? He placed his hands on her waist attempting to settle her motions.

Would you like to hear her sing, Astarion? How do you think she’ll sound with her blood gurgling in her throat as I feed from her?

“Turn around,” he demanded firmly.

Body slowing to a near halt, she cupped his cheeks with a litany of fingers rasping the sharpness of his bones. She pressed a peck to his lips. “Lover, I want to look into your eyes while I’m on top.”

He bucked his hips maneuvering his legs to lift her off of him enough to push her down onto her bedroll. Spreading her legs open, he swiftly settled in between her thighs, and brashly reentered her with a concrete plunge. The bard yelped in surprise, clutching his biceps tightly.

Soulmates? Tsk. Did my beloved spawn forget that he is not allowed to be connected to anything except me? Get rid of her mark.

I wish to please you master. Allow me to show my fealty to you.

His vision rapidly moved from side to side until he arched Tav into him to rest his forehead onto her soulmate mark, hiding, endeavoring it to disappear on its own so he wouldn’t have to hurt her. He thrust up into her hurriedly, trying to chase her to the banks of her climax to end his delusions.

“Wait,” she uttered as he drove into her.

Astarion ignored her, opening his mouth to frame his teeth around her soul mark. He must dispose of it.

“Astarion, no. Don’t bite there,” Tav ordered, snaring his curls at the root. “Look at me. Please.”

He’s everywhere. He knows where I am. He’s already taken everything from me. I’ll never be free, Astarion screamed inwardly in anguish.

His fangs pricked the first layer of her epidermis, pellets of crimson gathering around the invasion. The bard severely yanked his head to detach him, dribbles of her blood coating his lips. “I said no! GET OFF OF ME,” she shrieked, thrashing her body under him.

They became motionless. Her face had morphed into thousands upon thousands of blurry conquests. Voices: high and low, moaning, whispering their pleasures. Luring each of them in the dead of night to their death eternal. And Astarion, bound to the scaffold with a noose around his neck, forever being led back into Cazador’s arms.

And then her eyes were suddenly there in focus. Afraid and sorrowful. Full of tears. For her. For him. Rainy storm clouds floating across the earth. Tav with her inquisitor view, leading him on a pilgrimage away from the haunts of his deadened soul.

She covered her nakedness, pulling her ripped shirt over her breasts. Two pin prick spots of blood seeped through the fabric, reminding him of his violation. He was disgusted with himself.

What had he done?

“Tav, I’m sor—,” Astarion proclaimed hoarsely, loosening his brace on her waist.

Tav reached up to place a hand on his cheek. “Leave,” her voice whispered sternly.

He couldn’t wash this away and escape what he was made into.

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Burning iron-vine powder levitated in a cloudy haze around them.

A Gur?! A godsdamned bloody Gur. Cazador’s cruel humor never seemed to fail; he must have sent him.

His mind started to race. Astarion’s safety may be coming to an end. It was a misjudgement to ever presume that he could disappear without facing the repercussions of his former master. Would he ever have somewhere to land from all this falling?

“You’re Astarion?!” The monster hunter loudly said in surprise. “Apologies to your companions, but you’ll need to come with me.”

“Gandrel, was it? I’m not going anywhere.” Astarion removed the blade from his back, pointing it towards the man.

“Fuck! This is bad,” Karlach muttered to Wyll.

“Then, I’m afraid I have no choice but to take you by force,” Gandrel declared, shooting an ‘Ensnaring Strike’ spell at both the vampire and fiery woman.

Thorny vines raised up around their legs, holding them in place. Astarion sliced at them, trying to wriggle free, but the bindings only reinforced their seizure. “Uh, a little help?!”

He was too distracted to fight. Flooded by the memory of how Tav’s tears flowed like blown stars living their final moments. But, he could still feel her hands upon his cheeks. Her hands where flowers bloomed in the dark; flowers that emerged wherever she appeared.

Karlach swung her axe in a criss-cross pattern. “I can’t move! Wyll, you’ll need to repel him!”

Wyll lunged forward casting an Eldritch Blast that narrowly missed the hunter’s cheek. “Damn!”

Gandrel placed another arrow in his crossbow, aiming it at the spawn as he approached. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but you’re needed else—”

The hunter suddenly collapsed onto one knee, a spray of blood ejecting from his mouth. He looked down at the arrow protruding out of his right side, then looked past the spawn.

Astarion followed his gaze, mouth wide open in shock when he reached his destination. “Songbird? But, why?! I don't—”

Tav threw down her bow, reaching to unsheathe her rapier. “You’re a beacon of trouble, ‘Star.”

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mystic-writings · 10 days

Text

emergency contact | jack hodgins

pairing — jack hodgins x fem!booth!reader

summary — hodgins hasn’t heard from you in over six months, after you broke up with him and disappeared. until he gets an alarming phone call in the middle of the night

warnings — angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of death

word count — 2,528

notes — a few things: i wrote this back in january, and it was rushed and poorly done but im being self-indulgent for this one | also im not tagging anyone bc i wanna see how far this will get on its own (except for my beloved @shmaptainwrites who indulged me ily mimi)

masterlist | navigation

2:47am

Despite his many years working for the Jeffersonian, Hodgins had yet to get used to his phone ringing at odd hours. With a groan and a stretch, his palm landed where his phone lay on the nightstand table. Without checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and slurred out a tired greeting to the caller on the other line.

“Hello, Dr. Hodgins, I’m Marie, calling from the George Washington University Hospital.” Why was a hospital calling him so late at night? “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/n Booth, correct?”

Your name sent a shock through Jack’s body. “I— I guess so, yeah. Why? Is she okay?”

“Your fiancée was shot on duty, sir. She’s in surgery right now. We suggest you be with her when she wakes up.”

Without a second thought, Jack hung up the phone and flung out of bed. He didn’t care how things ended between the two of you, good or bad, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to make sure you were okay. After scrambling for a decent set of clothing and his car keys, Jack rushed out of the house and down the near-empty streets to the hospital you were taken to.

Even though his mind was running at a mile a minute, Jack managed to recall what the nurse had told him. Shot on duty. You took a sabbatical seven months ago, were you back in town? Surely Booth must’ve known, he was your brother and co-worker, he had to have. Did he spare telling Jack to avoid the inevitable turmoil? Obviously you’d been back long enough to take a case, so it wasn’t like you had decided to come back out of the blue.

By the time he found parking, it was half past 3 in the morning, and Jack’s heart refused to stop beating out of his chest, his palms sweating rivers as he clenched and unclenched them. Despite all of this, though, he approached the front desk with a cracking resolve, trying his best to be put together for the sake of not distressing the night staff and lingering patient family members.

“Could you tell me where Y/n Booth is?”

The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him. “Connection to the patient?”

“I’m her-” he stumbled on the words. “Her, uh, fiancé. Emergency contact.”

She typed a few things into the computer when a voice from behind caught Jack’s attention.

“Hodgins.” Booth called, approaching with a weary face and a cup of likely burnt coffee.

Jack nearly sprinted over to the man, blue eyes frantically searching for answers in his features. “What’s up, man? I mean, what the hell happened?”

Booth took Hodgins by the arm and led him down a hallway, over to the elevators. “We were going after a perp. I told her not to go in first, that I’d handle the hard part. She didn’t listen, the bastard got her from behind, shot out one of her kidneys. Been in surgery for almost,” he checked his watch, “three hours now.”

Jack deflated just as the elevator doors dinged open. The pair stepped inside, the space empty apart from themselves. “I just— I don’t get it. Yesterday, she was somewhere even I didn’t know, taking some damn sabbatical. Yesterday, I was still pissed at her. Now? She’s in surgery because she was on a case. Because some asshole shot her. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Booth?”

Unable to provide any kind of emotional support or response, Booth remained quiet as his friend tried his best not to break down in the elevator.

When the doors opened, Jack attempted to regain his composure as best as he could while Booth led him down the hall. There was a separate waiting room here, for family members who had someone in surgery. He sat opposite Booth, next to a sleeping little girl and her obviously exhausted mother.

He had no bearing of the passage of time, and felt as though there was no energy left within him to check the watch on his wrist. All he did was sit with his hands on his knees, head tilted to the sky, one leg bouncing like an infinite rubber ball. At some point, a doctor came out to notify the mother of her husband’s successful surgery — his tumor was gone, he’d told her, and there was little chance of it coming back.

It wasn’t until the sun started to peek in through the waiting room windows that a surgeon called out your name. Booth had been asleep in the chair across from Jack, but he was wide awake. The pair jumped up and approached the doctor, throwing questions at him rapidly.

“Y/n is okay. Surgery went well, though we’ll have to keep her here for longer than expected.”

“Why? What happened?” Booth asked.

The doctor sighed. “Due to the location of the entry wound, the bullet caused too much damage to her right kidney. For now, she’ll only be functioning with one until we can find a donor match. She’ll be on dialysis weekly and some medication to assist the working kidney, but otherwise, she’ll be just fine in a week or so. The bullet did puncture the liver and small intestine, but the speed of the bullet slowed enough to only cause minor damage, nothing we couldn’t fix up.” He told them, and a wave of relief crashed over the pair. “She’s being brought up to her room now, if you’d like to go wait with her.”

Jack only nodded, Booth trailing him as the doctor led them up one more floor, where you were being transferred to the ICU. It was painful, seeing you after so long, only for you to be hooked up to so many machines, laying nearly helpless in a bed. He pulled a chair up to your right side, reaching for your limp hand to hold, hoping you could feel him.

Hoping you knew he was there. That you knew he always would be.

Booth leaned against the door frame, watching everything with anguish. After you left for California, you kept in constant contact with your older brother. But even in those months, you never explained why you broke off the engagement so suddenly. Why you took a surprise sabbatical, why you went to California specifically. Why you became so closed off, so cold to everyone, even to Parker.

After a while, Booth left Jack alone to go pick up Parker from his mother’s house. He promised to be back later, your nephew in tow, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he left.

Jack, swimming in an ocean’s worth of thought, barely noticed the sun coming over the horizon in the window opposite him. All he could do was process the emotions flowing through him. Anger, that you left him so suddenly and without explanation. Despair, that you’d come back so long ago and didn’t come to see him, to work things out. Worry, that despite your life-saving surgery, you wouldn’t get a new kidney, or that you’d never be the same again. Anger again, but at the bastard who shot you. Triumph, that he was rotting in a cell right now.

Jack’s only comfort in the sterile, whitewashed room was the steady beeping emanating from the heart monitor, a small assurance that you were okay. His hand remained clasped over yours for hours, thumb stroking the smooth skin on the back of your hand. Partly as a comfort to himself that you were still there, but mostly, he believed, a comfort to you. He hoped you could feel it; that you could feel his presence. He hoped his presence comforted you.

By the time you woke up, all the worry had faded from Jack’s body and exhaustion had taken its place. He was asleep, head supported by his arm on the side of the chair, when he heard the sheets rustle in the bed.

Somehow, in all your years of work, this was the first time you ended up in the hospital due to a job-related injury. It wasn’t the first time you woke up dazed after a surgery with little memory of how you got there, though.

The sheets, despite being thin, weighed down your legs and torso, providing warmth and comfort. You could feel the leads for the heart monitor stuck to your chest, irritating your skin in the slightest bit. There was a cannula feeding oxygen into your system, though it rubbed the skin on the back of your ears uncomfortably. The main thing, though, was that your torso hurt.

Despite that, you managed to notice something weighing down your right hand. It was warm, warmer than the blankets. And heavier. Garnering the courage to open your eyes, you blinked to adjust to the sunlight and fluorescent lights, trying to shift yourself upward, wincing when it pulled on your wound. Instead, you glanced over at your hand, only to find another on top of it. Following the arm connected to it, your heart stuttered and cracked when you found a sleeping Hodgins sitting next to your bed. Emotion swelled within your chest and tear ducts just at the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully next to you, his hand over yours in a firm grasp, as if that was the only thing that assured him that you were really here.

Slowly, quietly, you tried to pull your hand out from under Jack’s, only for the movement to wake him up. He stretched with a deep inhale, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he noticed you were awake that he seemed to come to his senses.

“Hey,” he nearly whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

You bit back a scoff. “Terrible. First job back and of course I had to get myself shot.”

Jack fought a smile, scooting forward to raise the bed up for you to sit properly. “They said they got all the fragments of the bullet during surgery. You’re down a kidney for now, though.”

You only nodded, allowing yourself some time to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here, Hodgins?”

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact.” He told you, sitting back down and resting his elbows on his knees. “And apparently, I still care about you enough to show up.”

“Don’t put that on me.” You whispered, chest restricting as tears fought their way back to your waterline. “You can’t say that to me. Not after what I did to you. You should hate me. I mean, really hate me. Like, praying for my downfall, kind of hate. You shouldn’t still care about me.”

“Well, apparently I do. I thought I hated you, for a long time. But I guess I don’t.” Jack sighed, taking your hand. You wanted to protest, to pull away, but you let him. “I guess this was a wakeup call for me. Literally. They called me at 3 in the morning to tell me you were in surgery.”

You laughed, a wet sound underlined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I just…”

“What, don’t love me? It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it.”

Even when he should hate you, Jack still understood, and even worse, he still loved you. He was, somehow, the world’s most understanding man. God, you love him.

“No, no I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the opposite. I just wish things could’ve gone differently.”

Now Jack was just confused. “What d’you mean? You broke up with me for a reason, right? You told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It’s too complicated, Jack. I want to explain it all to you, really, but it’s not safe. I don’t know if or when it will be, and I won’t blame you if you want to find someone else, or if you already have. You deserve to be happy, Jack. You should move on from me.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jack said, emphasizing each word and squeezing your hand. “I just want you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were it for me, Y/n. Even with your brother breathing down my neck to not even think about pursuing our relationship. It was terrifying, but I ignored it. Because you were too important to have in my life. I couldn’t risk passing you up. I just don’t understand why you ended things so suddenly.”

The tears that you had been attempting to keep at bay for this entire conversation now flowed freely down your cheeks, the emotions you’d kept close to your chest for nearly a year now breaking free. Jack, like the gentleman he was, gently tilted your head toward him, reaching up and using the pads of his thumbs to brush them from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, daring to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be.” He whispered.

“I have to be. I hurt you. I ruined everything. And it wasn’t even worth it. It didn’t change anything.”

Despite his confusion, Jack said nothing. He simply stood to his full height and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his chest — minding your wounds and stroking your hair. “It’s okay. You’re home now. We can fix this.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. “Jack, there’s nothing left to fix. Because if we fix it, you’ll die.”

After what felt like an eternity of swirling, spiraling thoughts, Jack found his voice. “What?”

“That’s why I left.” You said. “I was ordered to. I was working on a case, some underground organized crime syndicate. I found out some stuff I shouldn’t have. My hands were tied, I had no choice.” Choking back a sob, you wiped the tears from your face and took a breath. “It was either break up with you, call off the wedding, and leave, or everyone I loved would die. They were gonna kill you, kill Seeley and Parker, and drain your accounts. There was nothing I could do.”

Jack pulled you in tighter, his whole worldview shifting and turning on an axis. He couldn’t speak — hell, he could barely even think right now. Jack had spent months grieving your relationship, questioning why you broke things off, harboring a ruthless anger at what his life had become, and all of it faded to dust in an instant.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, pulling Jack back to the present. “I work with these people, Jack. They could ruin me in an instant.”

“We’ll fix this, I promise.” Jack declared, and despite the fear that had overridden your senses for the past few months, you couldn’t help but believe him.

You only nodded, curling further into him as best as you could with your incisions. Fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, you listened to the beat of his heart beneath you and took a deep breath.

Soon enough, you were drifting off to sleep with the firm belief that soon enough, with the help of your family, somehow, everything would be okay.

if you want more jack fics, please feel free to comment and let me know!! writing for smaller characters is always a gamble but if people read this i’d be more than happy to do so!

#jack hodgins #jack hodgins x reader #jack hodgins x y/n #jack hodgins x you #jack hodgins angst #bones fanfiction

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gingerlurk · 8 months

Text

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 4: The Estate

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: You arrive home, and Din sees a whole new side of you.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, brief mentions of creeps with ill intentions. Reader is: a rich runaway, an orphan, a badass. Wears a dress and has hair that at least reaches to shoulders. Descriptions of shit family dynamics. Brief reference to uxoricide and implied domestic violence. Uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, A03. Thank you for reading!

Through obnoxious fluffy clouds and sweeping rays of sunlight, a staggering display of opulence reveals itself to Din, who pilots the Crest toward a beckoning pad.

He can’t resist a glance back at you. Your face is tilted to the side. Looking out the portside, refractions of the glittering landscape below play across your face. You look so sad.

Just as Din makes that observation, you school your features into a resolve he can’t begin to understand.

‘The Salkire Palais and Bastion Vitronoit Estate,’ you sigh, as the vast grounds rush below. ‘Boasting the first Roally Citadel, authentic Besanrac Tiered Gardens, and the Montaullon Palace, among other wonders. Locally known as just The Estate.’

Said tiered gardens glimmer on the horizon, towers of what Din is sure are the rarest plants known to the galaxy. You catch him looking.

‘You know you should stay a bit,’ you say. ‘You’d be welcome. See the sights, take Grogu to look at those pretty monstrosities.’

Part of Din already can’t wait to get away from this place, the shimmering perfection making his blood run cold. But that would mean leaving you all the sooner.

‘Maybe you could take us on a tour,’ he says. You smile. He’d look at ugly flowers all day to see that some more.

‘Yeah, maybe.’

Witnessing the sprawling, palatial Estate on the flight in did nothing to prepare Din for the hangar. A yawning chasm housing row on row of luxury ships and sparkling clean dry docks for every make and model. A spectacular, glittering vintage collection sits on its own in pride of place, almost a dozen pre-empire rigs from jets to transports neatly arranged as if on a showroom floor.

He is certain none of them have seen the air in a long old time.

The dwarfed Crest’s ramp descends with a soft whir (you’d fixed the sheared off gear that had made the hydraulics grind). His incredible soon-to-no-longer-be ship mechanic had been pacing nervously while the ground crew finalised docking protocols. But the second the ramp settles with a hiss, you stride straight forward without pause, chin tilted up and shoulders back.

A commanding, almost royal presence floats around you, effortless power and consort projecting forward. You’re a different person. Din Djarin feels surreal as men and women working the floor stop to give you bows and platitudes.

You dispense gracious thanks and the people gathered seem to hold nothing but adoration.

But then you stop, shoulders snap to your ears, hands clench tight. Din takes this in then follows your line of sight to perhaps the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen.

Short of stature and wide from every angle, the dress and comportment of the figure simpering into the space gives Din the impression of a decadent ball of velvet. Flanked by a glittering retinue of some 20 persons, the approaching welcomer is so bejewelled and gilded, the sight is almost too difficult to look at directly. The comms holo Din had interacted with while negotiating this job did nothing to convey the excessive pomp and parade of the man who’d hired him.

‘Uncle?’ Your voice is pitched high and strained.

The puff ball sweeps a cape aside and strides toward you. He bellows into the vast space.

‘The Daughter of Salkire lives! Our delicate flower has returned to us, what glorious spectre grants us such grace. We are in bliss, bliss, to see this prodigal child brought home…’

He continues like that until he’s in front of you, then he sweeps you into an embrace.

‘You came down to see me arriving?’ Voice now small and disbelieving.

‘Of course!’ he pulls back and cups a hand to your face. ‘My flower, you have no idea what ends to which I have gone, what pained efforts I have undertaken for this moment to come to bear.’

He turns to Din in that moment, as if to illustrate his pains. Din has slowly approached the two of you to stand a few steps back. From here, he can see your eyes are glossy and slightly dazed.

Your Uncle looks down his nose toward him, which is noteworthy seeing as the bounty hunter has almost two feet on the guy. Head tilted way back, he intones: ‘An attendant will discuss the balance of your payment with you, presently.’ He sniffs. ‘Then, you are welcome to take in the sights of this fair manor and attend the gala we will be holding to mark the magnificent occasion of our flower returning to us.’

He turns back to you and takes you by the hand, apparently done with the man who brought his ‘flower’ – ugh – back to him. You, still stunned, barely glance back before you’re led away. But Din just catches an earnest ‘see you there?’ nod to him; it’s almost a plea.

Hours later, the Mandalorian and his small companion are ushered into a vaulted hall of staggering luxury and wealth. The ball is in full swing with a large crowd of elaborately dressed patrons milling, eating and laughing. The two of them are seated at a table toward the rear and invited to take in the banquet and refreshments.

Din fidgets, uncomfortable.

From the second the Crest’s ramp descended, he knew he could not stay here. Every inch of this place has put him on edge. And this side of you he’s now seen has made his offer to hire you so foolish and embarrassing in retrospect… He just needs space. It was no big deal. He’d say goodbye to you at this ball, leave on good terms. Who knows, you could see each other again someday.

A sing-song voice chimes across the hall, announcing the presence of ‘the Family’. Full titles and honorifics are announced with each entry, but Din barely takes them in, tension knotting his stomach. Your Uncle enters first, flounces to a high, gilded table and makes waves at the adoring crowd. A sullen, cruel-faced woman enters next, must be your Aunt. She barely looks around before drifting to her chair. Then a younger man holding hands with a small child, cousins perhaps? They don’t head for the table but start mingling with groups toward the front of the room.

Then your name. Your full name. The one he’d only heard once before when your Uncle was parlaying your ‘rescue’. When Din had started to call you by it on your first meeting you’d interrupted and given a short, one-word version, saying you preferred it please and thanks.

His mind is wandering back to that first encounter, but that ceases as all the air leaves his lungs and his beskar plate sings against his body.

You.

Warm, shimmering hues of amber and gold dance in a cascading skirt that falls around your ankles, floating above ridiculously high heels that step out in front of the crowd. The gown you’re wearing sweeps up to wrap around your hips and waist, hugging and flattering everything, everywhere, before bordering the tops of your breasts, letting the delicate skin there glow under the lights.

Shoulders of fine gilt leaves span down to arms and wrists covered in strands of tinkling jewellery. Your hair shines around your face, which holds a soft smile and courtly tilt. Your eyes are keen and bright, scanning the room with delicate grace.

Gods. What a fucking vision.

You haven’t spotted him yet and your sweep of the room is interrupted by jovial and possessive adulators, gathering around and urging attentions.

That’s good – give him time to get himself together. At least he doesn’t have to worry about Grogu, the child has been driven to distraction by the wondrous array of delicacies covering the table.

Din continues to sit upright and rigid, taking the occasional opportunity to find you still interacting with another fawning cohort. A few society types approach him, begging intrigue of his composition and station. A Mandalorian, such an honour, such an interesting people, we have the devoutly religious here too you know, yes their doctrine holds to…

Din doesn’t engage and they eventually bid their own exit.

One of the people to approach him is the man whose entrance was announced just before you. He struts up to the table and flops himself into a vacant chair. He doesn’t address Din but looks him up and down, as if he’s evaluating. The word that occurs to Din is arrogance.

Din thinks back to the name that was announced. This guy openly staring at him now is named Avon.

Eventually, Avon speaks up, ‘Not really dressed for a gala, are you?’ His voice is honeyed, but in a sticky and grating way. Din remains silent.

‘Guess you don’t really have much wardrobe space, or time to invest in that sort of thing.’ He sniffs. Giving a snooty laugh, he slaps the table by Din. ‘Ha! But you must certainly have the means now, hm? How much have you been paid for returning our treasured prize to us?’

Din’s resolve to not say a word to this guy evaporates.

‘She is not a prize,’ he grits out. It seems to flick some sort of switch in Avon, and his eyes grow dark. He leans in.

‘No,’ he says with clenched teeth. ‘She’s my cousin, and is precious. To the Family. And to this place. To me. She belongs here. And we’re so grateful your task is successfully finished and your business is done here.’

At that he stands, previous attempt at mockery forgotten as he storms off.

Din shifts in his seat.

He begins to think he won’t speak to you at all tonight. Starts to feel disconcerted by it. He stands abruptly and makes to move toward the door, lifting Grogu away from the food as the baby gives a wail of protest. Of course, he thinks. Stupid to think she would have any time at all to see you here. To even want to—

‘Hey stranger,’ you appear beside him. He starts. There you are, smiling up at him, eyes dancing. ‘What do you think?’ You twirl, seeming to be asking him to take in the whole obscene display around them, but his eyes are glued to your spinning form. You come to a twinkling stop in front of him again and he forces his throat clear.

‘It is a lot,’ he croaks.

You laugh, tumble into the chair he’d just vacated.

‘Ugh, feet. Kill,’ you say, toying with the straps of a shoe.

He takes the seat next to you. The kid coos and dives back into gorging himself. That’ll have to stop soon.

‘Why would you wear footwear that harms you?’ He asks, feeling like the dumbest man to live.

You cross an ankle over your knee and massage at the side of your bare foot. Din feels his hands flex as if to reach forward, so he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back.

‘It’s not optional attire,’ you grumble. ‘None of this is.’ You lift an arm so encircled with jewels that light refracts around it, dancing between the two of you. You smile. ‘Ooh, looks pretty on your armour though.’

Not for the first time since meeting you, Din is so glad you can’t see his face. Because he knows there must be furious red patches climbing his neck and flushing his cheeks.

He tries to think of something to say next, but is stopped by that sing-song announcer.

‘Thank you, friends, kin and brethren, for joining us tonight in celebration and to honour the return of the beloved Daughter of Salkire!

‘We now ask all guests not formally of the Estate household to take leave for the evening, to enjoy the many amenities on offer in the grounds such as…’

The voice drones on as chattering groups begin to move.

‘Damn,’ you say. ‘Just found you too.’ You say it so quiet Din thinks you were talking to yourself, not intending it to reach his ears. He watches you slip your foot back into your non-optional footwear.

‘What happens now?’ he asks.

‘Family court,’ you say, sounding tired. ‘Private matters.’

Okay. You both stand.

‘See you tomorrow?’ A small smile.

Oh. Din suddenly recalls his decision.

‘Actually,’ Din Djarin hates himself. ‘Grogu and I are going to head off tonight, now probably. It is… for the best.’

Your features barely move a muscle but your eyes grow dull.

‘O- oh, okay.’ A nod of resolve, accepting this news in stride. ‘Well, thank you, Mando. For absolutely everything.’

Din tries with all his might to memorise the face in front of him. Each curve and crease, the colour of your eyes, the shape of your lips... You seem to register that he’s scanning your face and hold for a moment, looking directly into his visor. You are always looking directly at him.

‘Thank you as well,’ he murmurs. You’re turning away, turning to Grogu, to bid farewell, when an attendant appears beside you all.

‘I absolutely must insist that sir and his… his companion, take their leave now.’ He’s crowding at them and Din takes the opportunity to drag himself out of the moment. The baby gives a start as he’s once again lifted off the table by the towering, retreating figure of the Mandalorian, who doesn’t look back at you standing on your own.

You push down the aching lump in your throat, force deep releasing breaths. Focus on what’s in front, you tell yourself, before turning to join the much smaller crowd now gathered at the front of the room.

You pass your eldest cousin, who puts an affectionate hand on your shoulder. The smile you return must be strained because he drops his eyes in sympathy. You look around the rest of the party, your family. No one else is making eye contact with you, even though for the past few hours it’s been nothing but undulations of tributes and praise.

Your Uncle spies you and motions for you to join him up on dais. You reset yourself to rich fuck and saunter up the steps. He indicates the spot next to him and you step into it with some apprehension. This is unusual, even given the circumstances.

‘I bear exquisite news of paramount import,’ he begins without preamble. ‘And I have been waiting for this moment, for our shimmering flower to be returned to us, safe and as perfect as ever.’ He draws a hand to you reverently.

The room is hushed. Almost deathly so. Your hairs start rising in instinctive danger, be alert. But why?

Then your Uncle begins to speak and your whole world crumbles around you.

Din sits at a glittering bar, paying three times more than he’s ever paid for Grogu’s favoured treats. His mood is black, hunching on the veneer with arms crossed and stewing away.

He should be on his ship, disengaging locking pads and charting his path out of this hellscape. But he’d paused at this bar and had the thought, almost outside his own body, What’s one more hour?

The longer he sits there, the more he thinks he may as well stay. One more day. See her…

He’s still sitting there when a rambunctious group pours in, cavorting and rolling over each other. They’re shouting something Din can’t make out at first, then: ‘To an Estate wedding!’

The bartender standing by Din scoffs. ‘Huh, so it’s finally out.’

Ice shards have settled in Din’s stomach. ‘What is?’

The bartender gives a start at being addressed by the dark, imposing helmet beside him. He shrugs.

‘Tend this bar and you hear everything before it gets out there. S’why I’ve lasted so long.’

‘Like what?’ Din hits the ‘t’ so hard the guy winces.

‘Well, uh, like… Like the fact that as soon as that little lady, Daughter of the Salky or whatever, got home, she’d be married off to that Amtolene prince.’ He tsks, shakes his head. ‘Man, I really feel for her, probably should have stayed missing-presumed-dead ‘f you ask me.’

Din leans forward. ‘Why is that?’ His voice is like molten rock.

The man behind the bar looks like he wants nothing more than to back away from this terrifying patron, but he seems locked to the spot.

‘Because…’ he swallows. ‘Well, you haven’t heard of him? No, okay. This prince is… He’s powerful, I mean obviously. Rich too. But he’s got a… a reputation. Ah, a… storied history. If you know what I mean? Also, three previous wives. Who didn’t exactly leave the union, um… well. Or, or alive.’

He jumps in surprise when the enraged customer surges to his feet and leans into him.

‘You know everything, huh?’ he growls. ‘Tell me where I can find her then, right now.’

In a rush, the man utters a series of directions, landmarks and ingress points – figuring that any ramifications for giving up the intel wouldn’t matter if this demon caved his head in. He’s just wrapping up when the air erupts in screams.

Sirens, a cacophony of evacuation alarms. The bartender moans in despair. Then, possessed by an animalistic will to live, he reaches for his attacker.

‘You! You have a ship, right? Take- take me with you. Get me to your ship and I’ll, I’ll pay you, please! Please!’ His cries are ignored as Din twists from him and sprints out into the street.

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #star wars #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you

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faith-forgxtten-land · 2 years

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Safe | Rhaenyra x Harwin

warnings: none? maybe mentions of death and violence, anxiety, fluff? shit title again? idk

summary: rhaenyra can’t stop thinking of what criston cole has done and her anxiety keeps her up. luckily she has a strong man to keep her safe from her fears and her own thoughts

word count: 860 (ish) short i know

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Despite the late hour, Rhaenyra stared as sputtering flames danced over the remnants of molten wax. The Red Keep was silent save for the decaying whispers and crackles of candlelight and the Princess found herself smothered by the eerie quiet.

She did not know where her new husband was, the other side of the bed left cold and untouched. Perhaps it was for the best, Laenor was clearly distraught and Rhaenyra was not in the mood to give comfort. Would her father have Cole’s head for his violence? Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys would push for it no doubt, as would House Lonmouth.

He would deserve it, she admitted to herself. Of all the people to do something so reckless and vicious, Ser Criston Cole would have been Rhaenyra’s last guess. Although, she supposed, suggesting she run away from her duties - her birthright, her throne - had been rather reckless and perhaps she should have seen something like this coming.

As if she would ever leave her life, her family or Syrax just to become the wife of a lowly sellsword. She was Rhaenyra Targaryen, she was the blood of the dragon and Ser Criston Cole was a knight from Dorne with far too high an opinion of himself. He would choose to besmirch her honour, her family’s honour, in order to somehow repair his own which he had willingly forsaken.

Rhaenyra scoffed to herself. Just who did he think he was? Her hands betrayed her and shook as she clenched them into fists. They hadn’t stopped shaking the second she set foot into her chambers. Who in the Seven Hells did Cole think he was? How dare he do this to her? He’d been her confidant, her lover-

She shut her eyes tightly. After countless hunts and tourneys and senseless jousts she barely blinked at violence, so why could she not stop the shot of fear stinging her thumping heart? Surely he’d be punished, she reasoned. He had not only murdered the Knight of Kisses and ruined her wedding, he’d struck Lord Laenor and surely her father wasn’t stupid enough to risk the wrath of his cousin and her husband again.

Logically, her father’s decision was simple; execute Ser Criston and appoint a new Kingsguard. Perhaps it would reflect badly on Rhaenyra’s decision making - having chosen him herself and keeping him so close to her - but that was an easy price to pay for his disposal. But the Princess knew her father was weak-willed. Everything he did proved it - marrying Alicent in the first place proved it - and she couldn’t trust him to do his duty. He had to be forced to do it before, had to have his arm twisted beyond the break, to see Otto Hightower for the manipulative climber he was.

As the candle’s embers finally flickered out, Rhaenyra couldn’t stop terror from gripping her heart in its palm. Her chambers were dark and empty, and she glanced in the direction of her door, unable to make it out in the black. Perhaps she did wish for Laenor to be here, even the sounds of his crying would assuage her fears right now.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have trusted so implicitly someone so unworthy of it? If it didn’t terrify her so much, she would have felt suffocated by her embarrassment.

Hesitantly, the Princess placed her bare feet on the cool floor of her chambers. Her movements were almost silent, the ruffling of her sheets sounding painfully loud in the quiet of the night. She breathed deeply as she stood, and steeled her resolve even as her hands refused to quit their trembling.

It took far too long for her to stumble through the dark and reach her door. She felt like she was a little girl again, afraid of stories told by wicked septas to misbehaving children. Her hand reached out slowly. Who would be outside? It wouldn’t be Ser Criston anymore, it couldn’t be. It would be insanity if he was allowed anywhere near her again. Logic and reason didn’t stem her anxiety, but she finally met the door and pushed.

“Princess?”

Rhaenyra could have sobbed at the deep voice that greeted her. “Ser Harwin,” she breathed.

The eldest son of the Hand of the King could barely make out the Targaryen heir in the dim light. “Are you well, Princess?”

She almost giggled. Gods what had she been thinking to make her act like this? The whole thing was absurd, of course she was safe, of course Criston was no where near her chambers. “Yes, thank you, Ser. I was just…” Rhaenyra couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse that didn’t make her sound mad or pathetic but she didn’t need to.

“I understand, Princess.” She couldn’t see his face but Rhaenyra could feel his soft smile and hear the gentle warmth in his voice. “You’ll be safe tonight.”

Her eyes pricked with tears and a lump caught in her throat. “I know.” She closed her door behind her before he could reply and slid to the floor as fear released its grasp on her now steady heart.

Ser Harwin would keep her safe.

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justfangstvdto · 11 months

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Open Coffin 2 | Chapter 09 “Between Familiarity and Change"

Chapter warnings: typical tvd/to violence (this time only emotional lol), angst, a lot of dialogue, hurt puppy eyes from Kol.. ouch

Word count: 4640

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is my lifeblood and keeps the writing coming (eventually…lol)

Open Coffin 2 Masterlist

The dreamlike state you awoke in was far from the pleasantries one hopes for during sleep. A second ago you felt the asphalt on your skin, dropping like a stone, now you stood in a room with no view beyond its rugged, wooden walls. Animal heads were mounted on four pillars in the middle of the room encasing a circle. The room had a hazy view around the edges as if the world beyond its walls was nonexistent.

You knew exactly what this place was, yet you have never seen it executed. A Chambre de Chaussee. A magically constructed place to trap the minds with no time and space beyond its walls. And unfortunately, you weren't alone in this dreamscape.

"Unsettling is it not? To be swept away into this…monstrosity." Klaus spoke from the other side of the room, stepping out under the Wolf figure hung above his head. When he turned to take in your still blood-soaked clothing he had an amused grin on his face.

"Well, don't you look like the poster child of murder and mayhem?" He snickered.

With a smile saturated in sarcasm, you stepped closer, and with each step, the hatred grew. He left you there in the cemetery after he swore to do the complete opposite. You reached him and punched him square in his self-righteous face without hesitation, knowing you'd feel the same pain inflicted due to still being linked to him.

"I'll give you that one." He said, cleaning the blood trickling from his nose with the back of his hand. You did the same as the linking was still intact.

"You left me there." Your voice was low, edging into a growl. "At the cemetery. You just disappeared."

He roamed your features for a moment, seemingly taken aback for a second, before his face hardened "No hard feelings, sweetheart. Business is business."

"Business, huh? You said you get me out of there and I was stupid enough to believe you."

"Need I remind you, it was you who put my brother in danger!" He was seething, the usual Klaus showing his face again.

"And it was me getting him out of it, despite knowing better!! How many times do I have to help, for you to let me off the hook?"

"Perhaps there isn't a way for you to get off the hook!"

"I should just-"

"What hurts me hurts you, love. Have at it." He smirked, ready for a fight if you wished for it.

"Children, please." Elijah cut in, stepping out from behind his pillar. His timing was impeccable as always, which was a step up from the dishevelled state he was in. No suit, no clean-cut beard. They - his own family no less- sure did a number on him.

"You of all people should know what it's like in there with these two lunatics," you said to him, mirroring the dimmed look he sported. In a way, this version of Elijah felt more real than the suit. Maybe it's like a snake shedding its skin.

"Lunatic, my my" Finn appeared strutting through the wooden door at the helm of the room "You wound me."

You involuntarily jumped upon hearing his voice, your body's natural response winning over your resolve, much to your dismay.

Of course, Finn saw it too.

"No need to be afraid." He said etching away at your confidence with the way he enjoyed evoking fear. If asked he would still pretend that was the case.

"The last time I saw you, you cut me open with a butcher knife." And bled you out like a slaughtered animal, only to do it again the next day. Not to mention Esther's mental torture.

"If you would've simply cooperated, I would've not resorted to measures quite like it." He shrugged.

"It was all for nothing anyway. You didn't find out what these two are hiding." You looked at Klaus and Elijah, making sure not to linger each too long to not raise suspicion. You hoped they'd realize what he was trying to do. At least by speaking it out loud now you have beaten Finn to the punch.

"However big or small. " You made eye contact with Klaus this time, pronouncing the word small with extra meanings, and you saw he understood "This secret is no concern of yours. And I intend to keep it that way."

Finn contemplated your answer and was ready to speak when Elijah stepped further into the circle.

"Brother." He forced a welcoming smile "Why have you brought us here?"

"Brother." Finn let out a huff "You cannot even hide your disdain addressing me as such!" His outburst would have been somewhat comical, if not for the fact he collected himself as quickly as he lost his temper.

The brothers resorted to a back-and-forth of interrogation and slide comments, all incredibly uninteresting to you. You've heard it all before. Instead of watching them, you took the time to look at the animal heads more closely. Representational magic was a fickle thing. One misrepresentation and the entire room ceases to exist. Finn had to have made a mistake somewhere, you were sure of it.

He chose a wolf and stag for Klaus and Elijah respectively, but your totem coaxed a chuckle out of you. The animal's proportions were off by a lot, but it made it all the more imposing. The black shell had a sheen to it as it hung there flat above you almost life-like. Only its sting was curved towards you, threatening its poisonous power to whoever was the beholder.

"The Fox and the Scorpion? Very funny." You chuckled, pointing at the scorpion and the fox totem on the other pillar next to it. Why did he have a fox totem if Kol was not even remotely close to being here?

Nevertheless, it was a fitting display even if it was a bit on the nose. You had not pegged Finn for a moral story kind of person. "You know I always thought the frog and the scorpion made more sense. The fox wouldn't be dumb enough to trust the scorpion."

Finn laughed at that, apparently having some sort of inside joke with himself. "Interesting analysis. Does that mean everyone is a fool if they trust you? Even with their life?"

"I think you and I both know the answer to that."

"Indeed. Your nature is irreversible, just like the Scorpion. And your sting drowned the fox simply by existing. Or perhaps that's not true? Perhaps the fox has risen from the ashes, taking on another form."

Finn's gaze shifted to his left, towards the fox pillar.

"Why don't you tell her, Kaleb." His insinuation was clear and it was absurd. Even as Kaleb stepped out of the shadows and looked back at the fox totem above him, you denied it.

"You're full of shit. First, you torture me and now this? You really want to make an enemy out of me, don't you?"

"I wouldn't dare." Finn smirked, gave a pause, then turned to Kaleb "Come on now, brother. Tell the truth for once."

Kaleb wouldn't meet your eye or anyone else's as he stood there. When he finally did look at you, you saw him. Saw him and it was as if the world was imploding in on itself.

"Darling, I-" He stepped closer, frantically trying to soften the blow. Which, of course, came too late to make any impact.

You backed away and raised your trembling hand, keeping him away from you. "No."

He hesitated but stepped back, his usually tall frame sunken with defeat. Yet he was still measuring your reaction with interest, hoping he might find the right words to say. To somehow explain weeks of hiding who he truly was. But Finn interrupted before he could think of the next step.

"Well, that settles it for your portion of today's affairs." He said. "We have family business to discuss. No hard feelings" He added, snapping his fingers. All faded to black once more before you could say a thing.

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

The church doors opened with a loaded crack as the wood hammered into the stone wall behind it. Kaleb / Kol was still unconscious as you approached the altar, still stuck in Finn's concoction.

All of this had to be a cruel joke, something to coax an unkind response out of you. To what end you were not sure, but staring into the possibility that he had lied for weeks was worse than anything Finn could have orchestrated. Surely it was only a ploy for manipulation. It had to be.

You sat there on the church steps for a few minutes contemplating what you could possibly say to him. This wasn't supposed to be the reunion you both deserved. It was supposed to be as grounding as the last piece placed in the puzzle - a victory after failing for so long. But perhaps that feeling of victory was never achievable, to begin with. Perhaps it was meant to be a fairy tale among the harsh reality of existence.

Kaleb Kol stirred awake suddenly, sitting up with a start regaining focus. He found your eyes immediately and focused on you without a second to spare. A sheepish smile planted on his face, hopeful and freer now the cat was out of the bag. But there was fear in it too, fear of rejection, even remnants of the fear of being uncovered.

Seeing him sitting there you had no idea how the hell you didn't see Kol behind those eyes. The way they would glint with purpose once he spurred into action. The knowledge behind them went beyond the rage and scheming other people knew him for. It was beyond obvious now. The magnetic pull tugging you towards him was proof enough too.

"So it's true. It really is you. I'm such an idiot." You stated, trying to read the expression on his face as it sobered from hopeful into fear.

What did he expect? For you to run into his arms after he lied for weeks? That's all you wanted to do for years, and now it was finally here under the worst circumstances.

He swallowed, straightened up and stood, pacing the room in short strides. He was rattled to his core.

"I tried to tell you. And every time I did, it felt wrong." He said, trying to disguise the shaking in his voice "I thought it would be easier to start over. We could've gotten away, without my reputation attached, without my family sabotaging us."

"It's not that easy." You shook your head.

"Isn't it?" His focus flickered to your face briefly, before pacing once again "I know you're scared but-."

"I'm not scared I-"

"Of course you are!" He said, cringing at the way he raised his voice. He settled, and reached for your hand carefully "I was scared too, but I'm finished being scared. We could go right now. Leave all of this behind. Just you and me."

Suddenly, as if someone had placed a mirror between you, you saw yourself as he had at this moment. Covered in blood, dirt and dust-ridden skin. A far cry from your past self. How could he still want to keep going?

"It's not that easy. I'm not the same person. Not even close."

Slowly, without much pressure, Kol stepped closer and drew your hand up to his chest and over his heart. Beneath the skin, you could feel the beating of his heart, fast and fluttering like a drum.

"Nothing has changed for me. This heart might not be mine but it beats for you still. No matter what. Please tell me I haven't ruined us." His gaze was pleading and sincere as he held I to your hand for dear life.

It would be so easy to just give in. This was Kol, for god sakes! The one person you went to hell and back for was standing right in front of you. And yet he felt more like a ghost than a person.

And that was precisely the problem. He was the ghost you were supposed to be. This was always the plan. Get him back even if it takes you to your grave. But you weren't ready to tell him that. You were equally unready to see him standing before you, excusing all he had witnessed from the other side. He would forgive the most terrible sins if they were committed by your hand.

You shook your head, removing your hand from his grasp. Panic washed over his face and the hand still resting on yours clutched your skin tightly "I can't do this right now."

"Let's focus on dealing with Esther and Finn first. Then we can figure everything else out."

He looked defeated just then but nodded anyway. He knew the time was not right, even if his heart told him otherwise.

"I'm sorry. I know it's not what you wanted." You added, trying to console him.

"What I want is for you not to look at me the way you are now. Like you don't even see me."

Maybe because I don't even know who you are right now. That is what you should've said, instead, you muttered something about the work you both had to do.

----------

The walk to the compound was charged with silence and unsaid words. By now he usually would've made you laugh at least a dozen times, perhaps even dragged you into a jazz bar to dance. Now there was silence as you walked next to each other, hands itching to touch as they dragged on with movement.

It was unbearable.

The compound was a sight for sore eyes for once, now the objects of ease and not discomfort as it so often had been. The inside was still the same, except for the small table next to the staircase where Klaus was sitting and nursing a drink.

"You're here." He said without looking in your direction. He only looked up when you grabbed the second glass from the table next to him and filled it to the brim with bourbon.

"However small." You repeated the same phrase from earlier. "Your secret is safe. We're here to help you keep it that way."

"Despite us knowing better," Kol muttered from behind, leaning against the staircase railing.

Another drink made its way down your throat, all the while ignoring the quizzical look from Klaus which jumped between you and his brother.

"Let's get to work." You declared once the moment became unbearable. "How far away is the location?"

"Far enough," Klaus replied.

"Too far to drive in a day?" You asked, promptly receiving a nod. "Alright then. Warn anyone who's there right now. I'm sure Finn will figure it out in a few days. "

You stood up, slamming the glass down on the smooth table surface.

Klaus stood up too. "And where are you going?" he asked, a tinge of sourness in his voice.

"I need a goddamn shower. If you want to leave early, then go. I can catch up."

"Finn will recuperate after today's events. He will not retaliate. For now. We leave at first light."

"Sounds good." You agreed, ascending the stairs to finally wash all the blood, dirt and grime off. You felt Kol's eyes on you as you walked away, a longing stare that buried itself into your back with vigour.

Klaus noticed this and moved closer to him. "I advised you to tell her weeks ago, have I not? Now see what your lie has brought."

"Because you're the poster child of honesty." Kol snapped back, before letting out a frustrated sigh, "I tried not to be selfish and still I mess it up." Kol uttered, working his jaw loose with the self-hatred that seemingly had embedded itself into his gums.

"You died for her. You've become the least selfish of us all." Klaus laid a hand on his shoulder, forgetting the fight they had when they last spoke at the cabin. He gave Kol a nod, trying to convey that things will look up again soon. He then fishes out a pair of keys from his pocket and holds them out in front of him. "Your car is in the garage."

Kol took the keys and watched as Klaus walked away. He stared after him, wondering what the hell happened to the Klaus he knew. Perhaps he had changed finally, or perhaps his adventure in the chambré today had changed him too.

Kol shakes his head, ascending the stairs too wishing the shower he was about to take could wash this day down the drain.

----

The car ride was tense. And silent. Where there used to be music playing, the sound of wind hollering through the open window, now there was only silence. The disconnect between the pair of you now and years ago was evident. Thankfully, Klaus drove in his own car or this ride would've been even more tense.

Arriving at Klaus' safe house Was nothing short of awkward. Hayley, Elijah - in the flesh this time- and even Mae greeted you upon arrival. Kol almost dropped dead when he saw Klaus and Hayley's daughter Hope. But he looked grateful despite his shock. It meant that Klaus trusts him enough with a secret like this.

When little Hope saw you, she reached for your hand as if she knew that you touched her in Klaus' memories. Maybe she has more power than you thought.

The hours went by preparing the house for an eventful attack. You and Kol both conjured up a few protection spells for the house. First was an early warning system that monitors anyone breaching a larger perimeter. Then followed a refresh on the cloaking spell for Hope, a few more spells to secure the house as best as you could, without even knowing if Finn won't find a way around it.

By the time the house was somewhat secured, the sun was already starting to set. Little Hope was sleeping and guarded by her parents as well as Mae. Elijah was in the study, no doubt trying to distract his mind with a book. Kol was somewhere resting, no doubt as much in his head as you are in yours. At least the porch you decided to make your home for a while offered a nice view of the backyard that stretched further than the eyes could see. Back in the day, this place was sure a sight to see, with its acres and long stretching paddocks and fields. If not for the impending doom of an attack and the usual problem of not having a moment's peace, this would be a nice place to stay for a while. But alas, no rest for the wicked. And certainly not for the undead.

The sun had fully set when Kol appeared in the doorway next to you. He was leaning in the doorway, his shirt open to endure the heat, his hair tousled from tossing and turning in bed.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, looking out into the darkness.

"Don't even remember the last time I slept." You replied.

He nods, awkwardly shifting where he stood as he tried to find how to phrase what he wanted to say.

"If you want we could steal one of the bedrooms and sleep like we used to. God knows we need it." He let out a nervous chuckle as if to soften the blow if you would find his offer to forward.

"You know I want to just go back to how things were but, I just-" You sighed, breathing out a huff of frustration "What the hell are we doing, huh?"

"Here?"

"Anywhere. I used to know how to make plans and follow through. But every plan I had before coming here failed. Trying to play Esther, Mikael and Klaus, all fell through. I was told there was a war so I came here. I didn't see anything, did you? Which means that we are the ones that cause it. And we don't even know why."

He let out a drawn-out breath of understanding as he sat next to you. So that's what was bothering you, finally, he knew. His shoulders relaxed with that knowledge and hope crept in once more.

"You don't cause havoc like they do." He said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.

"See that's where you're wrong. You don't know this version of me." You shook your head. It was naive to think you would stay the same after the last few years, but he had no clue who you were now. How rotten.

"Do you think I ever left your side? Even in death, I spend every minute next to you. I would choose every version of you no matter what."

"I don't know how you could love me the way I am now."

"I don't have a choice, darling. I adore you, and that will never cease to be the case. Even if you decide to send me away."

"I don't want that. I don't want to send you away." You looked at him then, your voice quieter than he was used to and his eyebrows drew together in concern. He timidly reached for your hand, and you let him intertwine your fingers with his own.

"Can you tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?" He asked gently, without expectation of a reply. He simply needed you to know that he was there, no matter what the future would hold.

The problem was, how do you tell someone you love that you feel inadequate to the person you used to be? Like a lesser, dented and rotten version of who they once loved. Do you just blurt it out simply? Explain it with as much detail as humanly possible?

So you told him regardless. And you told him even more than that and he listened to it all. He always was an exceptional listener, even now as you recounted the last few weeks.

"And the worst part is I'm scared of Finn. My own father locked me in a basement for weeks on time but now Finn is the one that makes my skin crawl. How ironic is that?" You scoffed, looking at Kol. He shared your slight smile.

He leaned closer, hoping his siblings wouldn't hear him talk "Don't tell anyone, but I have always thought he was off his rocker. Even when I was young, he used to have this hatred about the world. I was terrified of him, and still am."

"Really? You never told me that."

He looked at you with a sad expression tinted with nostalgia and even regret. There certainly were a lot of things still unsaid. You were never granted more than a few months together before you got separated either by dagger or death.

"There are a lot of things still unsaid I imagine." Kol said, sharing your train of thought, "Even though we've loved each other for a century, we're still getting to know each other. Our time was stolen over and over again. But I meant what I said in that church. No matter how bad you believe to be, I will love you regardless. Always"

He covers your hand with his own, gently just letting you know he meant what he said.

"I know. That's why it makes staying away so hard." You sighed, wishing there was some easy answer to all of this "But I have to figure this out first. Not just this whole mess here, but everything else too. I just… I just need a little time."

Kol nods, visibly uneasy with the thought of staying away, especially if he wants to do the exact opposite. But true to the way he always was with you, he gave you your wish "Whatever time you need, it's yours, darling."

When he pulled away from your hand you pulled him back, intertwining your fingers with his, as the sun sets behind you.

"That doesn't mean I want you to go, you know that, right?" You said, looking at him.

"You don't?"

You shook your head, letting it rest on his shoulder as he pulled his arm around you. He always was honest and accommodating when it came to you even when you asked him to let you figure things out.

For the first time since you knew him, you had no idea what the future would bring. If it would work out at all if he was more human than anything else. Humans die someday, even witches and warlocks. If he remained the way he was now, what future was there for you? Maybe close to a century more until he was old and succumbed to time? And what if you turned him? He'd go back to hating how addicted to blood he had always been. What future is there now?

"You're in your head again aren't you, darling?" He said in a quiet voice, wishing he could pluck those bad thoughts out of your head "Come on, let's get some sleep and we'll figure it out in due time."

Soon you found yourself in the same room as if no time had passed. He eyed you from the bed he was lying in, wondering what you would do if he'd allow himself to sleep.

"If I sleep now, you won't disappear on me, right?" Kol asked, nervously picking at the sheet that was covering him "You won't be gone in the morning?"

"I won't." You shook your head, lying down next to him facing him. You knew he was scared you'd just run off, and truth be told you thought about it. But you won't do it. Running would not help this time. At least not right this moment.

"Promise?" He inquired again, his eyes scared as they roamed your face.

"I promise." You leaned towards his cheek despite your better judgement, kissing his cheek softly while whispering a quick sleeping spell. He smiled at your contact before the spell took hold and he fell into a deep sleep. His breathing evened out immediately and his chest rose and fell without a care in the world. He deserved some rest after the last few days and you're glad you could at least do that for him.

You kept an eye on him for a little bit, stroking away the hair that had fallen into his face.

"What am I gonna do with you?" You sighed as you rested your head on his shoulder. He deserved rest, but eventually, you decided you deserved it too, falling asleep on his shoulder like the old times.

At least for tonight, nothing was waiting for you in the shadows.

Finally some peace.

A/N: Here I am again, my friends. Been a long time as always, but you know what to expect by now probably.

Hope you've been well.

Also who would've thought that I would end a chapter on a good-ish note for once?

Kind of a side note, but can you believe all the Salvatore siblings have Scorpio as their sign? I have a birthday for the sister and just realized it's in the Scorpio zodiac area lol

Also, I hope this chapter wasn't too chopped up, because I did write it very sparingly while travelling ice again and there are hours or days I between it. Definitely not how I would like it but it is what it is. Hope you all are doing as well as you can. Thanks for sticking with me.

(still using the probably very outdated list, so lmk if you want to be removed from it)

@shadyladyperfection @akshi8278 @kind-wolfkind-wolf @christinasyellowflowers @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @cherryblossomllama @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14 @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine @codenamewitcher @-thatgirloverthere- @alwxadria345 @mizzezm @willieshakesqueer @spunky-89 @putyourherohaironstefan @thegingerthatwaited @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @hinata7346 @controloffandoms @redshima

#kol x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals fanfic #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader

24 notes · View notes

myst867 · 25 days

Text

What is Myst writing?????? Things! I'm writing things and then jumping to other things... and more things...

These things ofcourse are being done in a very haphazard way, a little bit here a little bit there. I've posted snippets randomly but haven't published any updates lately. I will I think and perhaps go on an announced hiatus as opposed to just not publishing any chapters quietly.

The following is a bit more work on the companion piece to 40 Days. Mind the tags.

Warning: Violence; Graphic; Cursing; Dark Harry; Murderous Harry; Dark Humor; First Person POV

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I turned on my side, ignoring the faint pull of the wet floor on my damp clothing, meeting the wide eyes of the man next to me. “You see I figured it out– I mean it took me awhile—I’m not Hermione Granger after all.” I gave a small laugh at that, thinking of Hermione back in the tent counting her syllables. She was a little stuck right now, but in the end, she would be alright.

I’d make sure of it.

“Listening to Dumbledore was where I went wrong. He meant well of course and I suppose his ideals were admirable. “ I mimicked his old man voice with its perpetual twinkly optimism. “It is important to fight and fight again, and keep fighting, Harry, for only then can evil be kept at bay though never quite eradicated.”

I sat up, the revelation rushing through me again with an almost mad glee. “But he was wrong! It can be eradicated!” I held up my wet and bruised hand, the cuts oozing. “You just have to be willing to see it through, to embrace the consequence.”

I turned to the man next to me, ignoring his flinch. “I almost had it when Sirius died and I went after Bellatrix. I felt the resolve inside me as I chased that fucking mad bitch.” The echo of the emotions from that day still burned, joining the fire already inside me that pulsed erratically, flaring and snarling. “Crucio,” I whispered and the man whimpered as he stared up at me with glazed eyes.

“I don’t even have my wand pointed at you, you stupid git,” I told him rolling my eyes as I leaned closer to his face. “We’re having a conversation here aren’t we?” Slytherin’s locket shifted on my neck its pulse matching my own. The man’s eyes shifted watching the faint swing of the locket and his eyes half closed as if he was being lulled to sleep.

I dug my fingers into the hole in his shoulder and his eyes flared wide again as he tried to scream. “Don’t fall asleep that’s kind of rude innit?” Satisfied he was properly awake again I sat back, crossing my legs and bracing my elbows on my knees resting my head on my hands.

“What Dumbledore got wrong — and honestly even Voldemort gets wrong— is that you cannot create a new society on top of the old. There is no re-education, there is no redemption. You have to destroy in order to create.” There were cracks of apparition outside and I smiled down at the master potioneer who had been supplying Death Eaters to survive.

“People like you are like fertilizer for them to grow. Your fucking weakness, your victimhood enables them to thrive. I have to not just destroy them—” I leaned close to him as the door slammed open. “I have to destroy you too. I will eradicate every single fucking root, so she can have a safer world.”

Three death eaters rushed into the room and stopped gaping at the sight. Blood was so thick on the floor it pooled, the dimness of the room making it appear like black toxic puddles. I could feel it clinging to me, spattered in my hair and face, and soaking my clothes. The pieces of bodies surrounded me, dripping and eyes staring vacantly while their mouths were twisted in screams cut short.

The lead death eater visibly leaned back at the sight. “What the bloody fuck happened here?”

I laughed at the phrase. Bloody fuck. Yeah, that was kind of apt. These arseholes (forgive me Hermione) were unintentionally hilarious quite often.

The man on the left growled at me, “You think that’s funny boy?” He raised his wand. “Crucio!”

I dodged the spell, my wand pointing at his wrist, “Diffindo!” He screamed as he fell to his knees clutching the stump where his arm used to be. His voice shook as he screamed, his mouth opening wider than seemed possible. The trilling decibels of his screaming almost seemed like he was doing some type of macabre opera.

My hand! Oh, my bloody hand! Where did you go…

“Fuck! Ernie!” The other wizard ran to the man on the floor his wand trying to stem the spurting blood.

I laughed harder as I dodged the green killing spell of the leader. The changeable beat of my heart lurched again, twisting inside me as I rolled, endorphins rushing through me like a drug. Ernie? Voldemort has a death eater named Ernie. Like fuck, these guys…. So hilarious.

#harry potter #harmony #hp harmony #harry and hermione #harry james potter #harry x hermione #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #harmione #hp microfic #microfiction #dark harry #evil harry potter #horcrux

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underragingwaves · 1 year

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Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Word count: 1.4k Warnings: incest, mention of suicidal ideation Written for: day five of the @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event, which featured the picture prompt that I used in the above banner. A bit later than planned due to a bit of a writer's block that has been resolved with the help of friends. (Y'all know who you are, merci. 💕) Also, this is a modern AU because reasons.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be such a baby!”

“I’m not,” says Hvitserk, pouting with hurt and cradling his stinging hand against his chest. “You’re being mean to me. Ubbe”– he demands in the next moment –“tell her she’s being mean!”

His older brother heaves a sigh. Stretches his legs out so far that he has to slide down in his seat just a bit. “You’re being mean,” says Ubbe, tapping Amma’s shin with his bare foot. His grin broadens far too much for Hvitserk’s liking. “Just so you know.”

Amma huffs. “Enabler.”

“Me?” Ubbe raises his hands as if surrendering. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Except what he tells you to,” snipes Amma, jerking her chin at Hvitserk, “and indulging that bratty behavior of his to boot while I’m standing here working my ass off – no, that is not an invitation to ogle my ass or touch it”– she snaps out, swatting Ubbe’s reaching hand away and dancing out of his reach too expertly –“and neither one of you has lifted so much as a finger to help me.”

“I wanted to help!”

“You nearly set yourself on fire!”

Hvitserk blinks rapidly. Glances down at the section of the table Amma just slapped him away from. Sure enough, there is a burning candle that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there a minute ago. Or, well, he’s sure that it might have been there but he definitely did not register it being there – let alone saw its flame – and so he heaves a sigh and fixes Amma with his best apologetic look.

“Stop it.”

“Are you…” Ubbe actually leans forward in his seat, looking perturbed and interested all at once. “Are you trying to give Amma your best puppy eyes?”

Hvitserk inhales. Nods vigorously in response.

He scowls when Ubbe’s initial chuckle of mirth erupts into a full-blown laugh. Gods help him, his brother actually snorts and grins broader than Hvitserk’s seen him do in at least four months.

“It’s not that funny,” says Hvitserk, pouting all the worse for it.

“Ha!” Ubbe’s nose wrinkles, amused, when he leans back in his seat again and gestures airily at Hvitserk. “No, really, keep going, I want to see her crack and do unspeakable violence to you.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She would!”

“She definitely would,” says Ubbe with no small degree of relish as Amma’s snap lands an octave higher than her usual ire. “Keep going, brother, and she’s going to mix something else into that herbal tea…”

“Don’t be stupid, Ubbe, these herbs leave traces. And we’re making a compress, not a tea, because somebody here doesn’t know when to call it quits on the free parkour or whatever the fuck that was.” She shakes her head, multi-colored braids swinging to and fro as she emphasizes her discontent, and fixes Hvitserk with a stare that is eerily reminiscent of the looks his mother gives him when he’s shit outta luck and needs to start counting to ten. “What on earth were you thinking, climbing that tree and then attempting to jump to the other tree? Oh, let’s see all the ways I can kill myself today?”

“I wasn’t going to kill myself,” sulks Hvitserk, “not in front of the dog, anyway.” He bites his lip as Ubbe’s stare suddenly turns a good deal darker than usual. Hvitserk’s the first to look away, as he always is these days since… No. Not since anything. “I just… got the distance wrong. Like when I was out skating”– he explains –“and I flipped the wrong way on the pipe and boom. Happens.” He shrugs. Hisses as the movement sends a sharp, searing pain through his shoulder. “I’m not used to trees.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” rumbles his brother, in such a way that Hvitserk full well knows there is a more-or-less affectionate eyeroll attached to the words.

“City boy,” hums Amma good-naturedly as her hands deftly ground some of the herbs into a fine pulver. “However did you survive all these summers in Kattegat, hm?”

“Luck,” offers Hvitserk, though Ubbe’s “me!” rings out louder.

Amma’s smile dimples her cheeks. “Bit of both, maybe,” she concedes, heading off any sort of would-be argument with a well-practiced air. “Honestly, though, Ubbe, you picked a fight with a sheep only yesterday. Seems like you’ve got a thing or two…”

“Hey, that sheep is evil.”

“Mister Fluffers?” gasps Hvitserk, chancing a glance at Ubbe’s rather impassive face now. “You dare speak such things about the Supreme Lord of Woolgathering?”

“The fucking what now?” asks Ubbe, raising his voice over Amma’s wild cackle of laughter that makes Hvitserk grin too. “Hvitserk! You called it what?”

“Oi, Sigurd wanted to name it Patrocles,” says Hvitserk rather sourly, “and Ivar wanted to kill it and name it Mutton Chop retroactively. Because, you know, our gay brother and our psycho brother are totally normal people who can be trusted to name a sheep.”

“And you called it”– glares Ubbe –“Mister Fluffers, Supreme Lord of Woolgathering, instead?”

“King of the Silent Lambs, Master of Pufferjackets,” adds Hvitserk, rather unhelpfully, “First of his Name, Guardian of Feta Cheese. It had to be named something and you were… not here,” he finishes lamely, knowing exactly where Ubbe had been. “Someone had to…”

“Gods spare me.”

Hvitserk fidgets. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” interjects Amma, “we’re not doing this. Nope. I’m not listening to either one of you waffling on about what name was given to this sheep as if you’re picking the name of your firstborn child.” She tosses a bundle of herbs at Ubbe. “Pluck,” she instructs, “leaves and flowers off the stems. Please.”

“Don’t I get…”

“Here,” sighs Amma, moving around the table and pressing a mortar and pestle into Hvitserk’s hands before unceremoniously dropping flowers in his lap. “Crush them best you can, hm? You’ll likely smell like roses and arnica for a bit, though.”

“Arnica?”

“The yellow ones,” mouths Ubbe, already diligently plucking away at lavender and other herbs Hvitserk doesn’t know how to name. His brother’s frown is very apparent as he looks at Amma. “Are you sure this will help?”

“He’s already taken a painkiller,” says Amma, shrugging, “and Ingrid makes these herbal compresses all the time when she’s got a moment to spare. She made me help too many times. Seen it work just as many times, though. It’ll work for him.”

“I’m fine,” grounds Hvitserk out, though the act of slowly grinding the petals is sending fresh aches down his arm. “Just… need to…” His cheeks flush with warmth as Ubbe and Amma fix him with twin stares. “You’re creeping me out, doing that.”

Amma’s brow arches. “You’re in pain.”

Ubbe’s flinch is barely perceptible, but Hvitserk has grown too accustomed to registering his brother’s every move by now. There’s a bruise on his hip the size of Ubbe’s hand, give or take, and he isn’t entirely sure how Ubbe thinks they’re going to hide that detail from Amma when she finally sees the damage the tree and then the ground did to the rest of him. He can’t even ask Ubbe about how to talk around it, now, because she’s been right there since he climbed that damn tree to get away from… from…

“I’m fine,” he says again, swallowing the taste of his brother’s lips back down into the roiling pit of his belly. Hvitserk fidgets in his seat. “Let’s just.. get this done. And Ubbe can help me put it on, later.”

“Scared I’ll do unspeakable things to you when you’re shirtless, little waffle?” leers Amma, using the stupid childhood nickname she gave him years ago when they first visited the farm. She shakes her head. Wrinkles her nose for good measure. “You ain’t my type. Nor you,” she adds, nudging Ubbe’s foot with her own. “I’ve sworn off all men, you know.”

“Your greatest victory is our biggest tragedy,” grins Ubbe, handing her the separated flowers and leaves one by one. “How’s Thora faring these days, hm? Still bullying Ivar every chance she gets?”

“Someone has to,” snorts Amma. “That man is the very definition of play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Did I tell you about the time he had gotten it into his thick sku–”

Thanks, mouths Hvitserk wordlessly, meeting Ubbe’s eyes and maintaining that contact for the first time since this morning. His cheeks color an even deeper red by the feeling of heat that rushes through him at his brother’s patient, unwavering gaze. Were they alone…

Later, gestures Ubbe behind Amma’s back, smiling that soft smile that he somehow always manages to reserve only for Hvitserk while also tilting his head and humming along in all the right places with Amma’s long tale about Ivar, Thora, and a wild horse. Ubbe’s eyes never leave Hvitserk’s face. When it’s just us.

Hvitserk is the first to look away.

#vikings #hvitserk #ubbe #amma #ubbe x hvitserk #urwfic #vernalvikings

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brightbeautifulthings · 2 years

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House of Sky and Breath by Sarah J. Maas

"'If you're looking for How Not to Be an Asshole, it's shelved between Bye, Loser and Get the Fuck Out.'"

Year Read: 2022

Rating: 3/5

About: There are spoilers ahead for House of Earth and Blood. After saving the city, Bryce Quinlan and Hunt Athalar are under the watchful eye of the Asteri and have direct orders to lay low. It's too bad that peace has never been their style. When a boy who's rumored to have extraordinary powers goes missing, Bryce is determined to find him first so that none of the city's power-grabbing factions can use him as a weapon. The search sets in motion a chain of mysteries, including what Danika was researching before she died and secrets about their world that the Asteri would kill to keep hidden. Trigger warnings: character death, implied torture, slavery, body horror, explosions, captivity, severe injury, violence, sexism. NSFW content.

Thoughts: Why... is this book... so long?? I've been trying to think back through it to explain what happened, and there just isn't enough plot here to justify 800 pages. Like the first novel, it has some interesting twists near the end, but the mysteries could probably be resolved in half the page count if we cut out all the unnecessary Scooby Doo meetings to discuss strategies and powers. There are also too many character perspectives than the book really needs to tell its story. Much as I enjoy Tharion and Ithan as characters, I don't think it's entirely necessary to follow them around in their subplots, and same for Danika having yet more secrets that Bryce doesn't know about.

On the whole, it's much more a character novel, and I'd say that's where the series excels. I enjoy Bryce's sassiness and Hunt's temper; I enjoy how much Ruhn doubts himself despite being a good person; I felt a lot for Tharion being trapped by the River Queen and Ithan being shunned by his pack. They're all interesting and nuanced, and Maas does an excellent job constructing this modern fantasy world that has both technology and magic. It's well-imagined with all of its own inner politics among species and quarters of the city.

Ending-wise, this is nowhere near as powerful as House of Earth and Blood. I'm a little ticked that things ramp up in the last fifty pages only to leave us hanging, and the ending confrontations aren't as well-paced as those in the first book. Nothing happens for so long, and then just when things finally start happening, the book ends. I'm sure I'll stick with the series regardless, but this wasn't my favorite installment. There are some fun cameos at the end, and I'm interested to see to what extent this world crosses over with other Maas books.

#book review #sarah j maas #house of sky and breath #crescent city #adult fantasy #3/5 #rating: 3/5 #2022

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staysuki · 2 years

Note

Suki, I’ve recently discovered your blog and read through some of your fics. I really love a lot of them, and I’m waiting eagerly for updates to the ongoing ones.

The most recent fic of yours I’ve read is “don’t shoot me” and now I’m debating whether or not to read the entirety of that universe (SLC/HDD). But I’m slightly concerned about the tags (bc I get emotional and sensitive ugh). I need to know. How bad are they? Like, how much angst should I expect, how long is the burn before the angst is resolved, etc.? Are there any possible/prominent trigger warnings (other than the ones in the masterlists)? Even if you could tell me a small summary of them, that would be really appreciated and would help me figure out if I should read it or not. I’m sure your writing is amazing, and I know from DSM that they have happy endings, but I also get rly hung up on fiction sometimes… could you help me out?

Thank you, and I really love and appreciate your works! Take care of yourself, always take breaks for your mental and physical health, drink lots of water, eat and sleep enough, the whole gist. Self-care to the max 😌✨❤️

aw thank u!! that's v v sweet. 🙏🙏🙏💓💓💓

mmm yeah, as for that universe, i can def agree that DSM is the most lighthearted one. i already forgot the warnings in the masterlist so ig i'll just try to add a summary/explanation that's spoiler-free???

SLC: def the core theme here would be the bullying, so keep that in mind. during it's time, it was prob the hardest fic that i had to write (now OATGE is in the lead lolz). there's a lot of ups and downs—betrayal, hurt, and whatnot. but there are a ton of light moments sprinkled in. in terms of getting hung up, i think SLC would be in the middle. it isn't as lighthearted as DSM but not as angsty as HDD either. i think what puts this in the middle of the "triggering" list is because of how bizarre the situations are. i've had a reader before who is triggered by themes of bullying and whatnot so i did my best to over exaggerate those themes to the point that it becomes unrealistic. thus, it's enjoyable for what it is: fiction.

HDD: i think this is on top of the "triggering" list amongst the three because in a sense, it deals with more mental damage. lots of the topics discussed are often scummy and it's more of a social war in comparison to SLC (which has some physicalness aspect to it, not necessarily violence but idk how to explain it). it also has more sexual themes compared to DSM and SLC, both good or bad.

overall, i'd like to think that the payoff is worth it, if the feedback is anything to go by. SLC is more of a slowburn compared to HDD tho, just basing off the chapter count. SLC also has a bigger universe (more characters and whatnot) hence why i was able to expand on its story.

anyhow, it's still up to you if you want to read it, we're responsible for our media consumption afterall, thus the warnings are placed. if anything, i have other fics that are very lighthearted! (jeongin smau is my fave LMFAO).

i'm also over my "edgy/experimental" phase so most of my future fics will definitely be more on the lighthearted side. consider it my retirement phase or smth.

#ashnon #slc talks #hdd talks #dsm99

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kyogre-blue · 5 months

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Old horny shows

EDIT: Found this in my drafts, posting it now, but I think I watched these and wrote the list like 2+ years ago lmaooo

Sometimes I just want to set trash to play in the background. Most of these, I recognize from New Type USA, which is why I wanted to try them out.

Sorcerer Hunters, ep26 - Complete. This is a 90s show and it, uh, feels like that. I was interested when I saw it on Crunchy because I saw a PV for it on... a Newtype preview DVD like two decades ago. It’s been a long time since I saw a main character who was characterized entirely as “walking sexual harassment.” The names are ridiculous. The main villain looks like Madara, generic fantasy version. The worldbuilding is that special frustrating thing that old school shows loved in particular, where you can tell there’s some kind of greater structure to the world and it seems very interesting, but no one ever explains it and its not explored in any concrete way. Aside from that, it’s largely just episodic stuff about magic users who misuse their powers or magic phenomenon.

Triage X, ep10 - Complete. I started watching this years ago but couldn’t get through even one episode because of technical problems. Crunchy was going through one of its periods of just not working for whatever reason. This show is overflowing with sexual violence. Lots of rape and drugs and abuse and also stuff like making sure we get a nice shot of a girl’s boobs as she’s brutally murdered. I knew that pretty much going in tho, so I don’t really have an opinion about it. The frustrating part is that they end without resolving the main plot threads, like they thought they’d have a second season but didn’t.

Sister Princess, ep2 - Dropped. I can deal with horniness, but I can’t deal with how meaningless and bland this is. Not only are the “sisters” totally lacking in anything, but the MC is a total potato as well.

DearS, ep13 - Complete. A show of the specific old trope “mostly-female alien species that must have a ‘master’ to operate, no matter how mediocre or outright evil he might be,” ala Sekirei, Sora no Otoshimono, etc. DearS is certainly still fetishizing the whole thing, but it at least directly calls it slavery and has normal humans be pretty :/ about it.

Aesthetica of a Rogue Hero, ep2 - Dropped. I wasn’t expecting anything smart from any of these shows, but this one is especially bland and leaning way too heavily on the dullest of tropes. The excessive shilling of the MC is annoying as always, but what got me is when it tries to be smart and sucks at it. No, you see, she had to be naked in the sack to cross worlds! But her hair ribbons are fiiiine, those don’t count. Bro...

#now playing #genre overview

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qucintly · 10 months

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MORE RANDOM / USELESS MUSE FACTS

Did they believe in Santa?: Perhaps, at least for a little bit. It didn't take long for her to realize her parents were the ones giving her presents. Though was she mad about this revelation? No. Her parents just became nicknamed "Mr. and Mrs. Harris Claus" until her early adolescent years.

Were they a dinosaur or rock kid?: Both, given the cirucmstances in which she read multiple books as a child. Learning about the rock that killed the dinosaurs(metaphorically) mixed both interests together.

Bugs or slimy critters?: What's the difference? They're both curious creatures that need to be learned. Both in knowledge and repelling.

Do they fidget? How?: Whenever she listens to something interesting, whether on the case or not, she makes a mental note of the situation by the obvious gesture of rubbing the bottom frame of her chin, side to side. This also occurs when she's thinking about something.

What were they frequently in trouble for as a child?: The "in trouble" portion didn't really involve being suspended from school, or rather, being grounded per say. This "in trouble" portion deals with her popularity in comparison to the rest of her elementary school. She would be standoffish, in a way that completely ignores bullies that would tell her how much of a "teacher's pet" she was. She ignores them to the point of getting in trouble with the most popular individuals in school, but is quickly resolved by said teachers defending her. Would that even count? I'm making it count.

What underwear do they like?: ...I abstain from answering this question.

Designs on clothing or no?: No. She wants her clothes to be plain and singular colored. The striped pants she wears is an exception due to the colors black and grey being shades of each other.

Birthmarks?: There is a small black birthmark on the bottom right side of her neck, shaped like a star. This indicates either her past self was shot in the back by an arrow (as a cause of death), or is a symbol of the rebirth Ms. Harris would have gone through during the "Burn Within" incident.

Do they have good self control?: Depending on her level of anger, Ms. Harris has pretty good self control. Though it is highly recommended to not get on her bad side. Her vocal and physical inflictions of violence is a certain if or whenever she reaches that point.

Favorite franchise?: As a child, Resse would indulge herself reading the "Magic Treehouse" book franchise, which involves two growing children, Jack and Annie, entering a magical treehouse and traveling through time and events on mystical adventures. She experiences the children growing up such as she has, despite her memory of the books she read in long past disappearing along with the rest of her memories.

Do they re-enact scenarios in the shower?: Resse is a "get-in and get-out" type of individual. Someone who gets in the shower, does all she needs to do, and get out. There are no thoughts in between.

Do they tell the waiter that their order is wrong?: Sometimes she does, depending on how wrong the order was. If she were to get a regular cheesecake instead of the strawberry cheesecake she had orders, she would let it pass, considering the strawberry to be a bonus of flavor to the already rich taste of the cheesecake on its own. If she were to get a cup of chai tea instead of a cup of chamomile tea, that is where it kindly crosses the line.

Stairs or elevator?: Stairs. Walking up and down the stairs towards her destination gives her more time to think, to process or come up with details she would utilize in future situations and conversations. Although if a building only has elevators, she wouldn't mind taking them.

Are they an exaggerator when telling stories?: Extremely. Especially when it comes to childish folktales like "The Three Little Pigs". Depending on who she tells it too, she rather twist the ending of the folktale to brutally antagonize, well, the antagonist(s), making sure the ones involved understand just what kind of trouble they are putting themselves through.

Tagged by: @s-talking

Tagging: YOU. When you read this!!

#dashboard meme tbt #like how im never gonna properly tag this;;#anyway: these were fun questions!#helps me get the resse muse again cause.. oh god my other oc..

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dzthenerd490 · 1 year

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Dark Blood Chapter 22: Conflict of Light

Trigger Warning This Chapter contains depictions of trauma, fear, bullying, violence, and fighting. readers discretion is advised.

After an hour of searching Kyle had finally found a suit his size. After putting the suit on, Kyle gently grabbed Grizz, who was still sleeping in his pocket, of his old shirt and dropped him into the front pocket of the suit. Now with new clothes, Kyle walked back to the main room where half of the Elkins kids were there with their stink gone, and their clothes clean and dry.

"Hey bro! Nice look!" Kyle found Jackson with the same jacket and surfer shirt but now clean and new looking.

"Uh, thanks I guess I know it looks good, but it kinda feels stiff to wear."

"Hey, any chance we could get some new clothes as well?"

"we'll probably have to ask the master of the mansion, or just Walter, speaking of which where is he? Where is everyone else?"

"Cane and his farmers are already planting at their new garden, that guy is crazy when it comes to plants let me tell you. Anyways, Isaac, Sarah and the others are looking through the place with Walter to see where to eat and sleep. And as you can see everyone else is here." Kyle looked at everyone, he was glad to see that not only were they clean again, but they were just talking and hanging out again. Normally everyone would have to be working on something whether it be counting food rations or Cane's planting seeds, helping with weapon management, or just doing anything else. They were in the apocalypse so no one could really afford to just sit around and do nothing but now they can. The mansion was large, full of resources, and strong enough to hold back an army and with Kyle agreeing to be its protector it was safer than ever.

"Can you believe it bro, all the loss and all the fighting. it didn't last long but I'm sure glad it didn't have too. we can finally rest easy."

"I don't think I can get used to it given all that we had to go through, but I am certainly willing to learn."

"there's still some things we don't know, like did the old politicians and rich bastards knew about this shit before it was going to happen? If they did, where are they? Why the hell do the Arkums want to kill us? Why did this Grim guy make them? How did he make them? What is the original world? What is the Nightmare Virus? what-"

"Hey! hey, take it Jackson. yeah, there are still plenty of things that need to be resolved but for now, we have all the time in the world. so, lets just take it easy for now."

"Heh, yeah, yeah your right bro. I think we should do just that."

"Ah! there you are." Jackson and Kyle then turned to the stairs to see Walter walking down with Sarah, Issac, Rodger, and Sam along with a few others. Sarah and Sam blushed when they saw Kyle in a suit.

"It's a good thing your all here, now that your all washed and clean we must start by discussing the ground rules. First off, the master of the mansion is currently in her room, and I would advise you to never, and I mean NEVER enter her room. second, as Kyle's promise of contribution, he will help protect this mansion from outside dangers and those who do not want to assist him will have to help in cleaning every so often." Soon everyone either started groaning and some even started protesting the idea of having to work to stay. Even Jackson groaned at the idea, Kyle then sighed and walked up the stairs to speak to everyone.

"Come on guys, this is really a small price to pay in exchange for a better grip on safety and security." Jackson just glared at Kyle in skepticism however, Jackson knew that complaining about it would just make him a brat, so he sighed in annoyance and zoomed up the stairs as well.

"Come on guys, Kyle's right. This place is the best thing to happen to us since the apocalypse started! If we don't do this, we'll have to go back to that old farm house, or worse back on the streets." Sarah then smiled and stood with Jackson, thought this annoyed Jackson because it reminded him how short he was compared to the highschoolers.

"I agree, all we have to do is clean or defend this place and we get to live here, there's really not that much to complain about." Everyone was silent at first but slowly one by one everyone started showing their support and soon everyone was on board with the idea. Very few were still against it, but Kyle knew that majority vote and the idea of being kicked out would help them to get over it.

"Alright then, now that that's all taken care off, I will just leave you all too it, but remember you are guests so please don't make a mess or else-"

"Walter?" Walter was instantly filled with terror, he started to sweat a little as he slowly turned his head to the staircase. Everyone else looked to the staircase and saw a girl with brown hair and soulless orange eyes, she was wearing a white nightgown. She was just as tall and seemed to be as old as Walter was.

"M- My lady! Lady Isabell! So sorry to wake you! I was just telling-"

"That's enough Walter." Walter immediately stopped taking and seemed to be increasingly scared of Isabell.

"These are the children that requested to stay at the mansion am I correct?"

"Y- Yes my lady." Jackson, Sarah, and Kyle were the first to noticed Walter sweating in fear, Isabell then started walking down the stairs to which Walter started walking to the side to get out of her way. Out of fear Sarah, Kyle and Jackson couldn't help but do the same and keep as much distance away from Isabell as possible.

"I hope you all know the rent isn't free you'll all have to work to live in the mansion." Isabell's tone was enough to send shivers up the spines of all the Elkins kids it wasn't like a normal teenage girl, it was more like a giant talking softly to little humans, making her seem much more intimidating. Jackson, however, was aggravated; they had already agreed to the work willingly but now Isabell was making it a law like a tyrant. As such Jackson zoomed right in front of her and despite being a little shorter and on a lower step of the stares, he glared at her to show he meant business.

"And what if we don't want to?" Walter lost all his colors out of fear, Jackson noticed this but made sure to stand his ground, Jackson was never one to stand down to bullies bigger than him and he wasn't going to start now. However, Isabell seemingly disappeared and reappeared behind Jackson in everyone's else perspective, but Jackson saw her running as fast as he normally does. Now Jackson was sweating in fear, but he knew better than to let it get to him, so he quickly swung his fist to hit Isabell across the face. However, before impact, Jackson's arm stopped moving and was practically stuck in the air. Try as he might, he couldn't move his arm, as if something else was controlling his muscles. Then his arm jerked up and then his other arm as if they were being controlled by something other than him. Then he started grunting in pain as his body was forcing itself onto the ground and then he bowed on the ground to Isabell. Now that he was on the ground his head painfully jerked up and faced Isabell who kneeled down to him as if he was a bug compared to her.

"Then get out." Jackson was freed from Isabells control, so he quickly backed off and even when he fell on his butt. However, he wasn't ashamed instead he crawled away from her like a coward. This especially scared Sam, Roger and the rest of the surfers; Jackson never backed down from a fight even those who were obviously stronger than him so the fact that Isabell made Jackson lose his will to fight so easily was a truly terrifying sight. Isabell then stood tall and looked at everyone with a glare that made everyone back away in fear.

"Does anyone else need to be reminded of who owns this mansion?" Isabell then smirked, looking at the fear in everyone's eyes. Just to give a little scare she raised her hand. She didn't activate her power, so it wasn't going to hurt anyone, but she found it humorous to see people scared.

"Don't you even think of harming any more of my friends." Isabell tried to get out of Kyle's grasp, but he was too strong for her, instead he let her go so he wouldn't accidentally break her arm.

"You think you have a chance against me?"

"I'm not asking for a fight, I'm just asking you to leave my friends alone."

"And what if I don't?"

"... Then I'll stop you." Everyone was stunned and full of fear, Kyle the strongest out of them all, was threatening someone who had terrifying and unknown power, making her seem as strong, if not stronger than Kyle. Kyle didn't know how strong Isabell was, but he didn't care, he just didn't want her to hurt anyone else. But then after a few seconds she smiled and walked back to the stair case.

"Your friends will be fine, but I will do it again if I want to, this is my house after all. But if you disagree with the way I treat my guests then meet me in the front lawn within two hours from now and we will battle it out, one on one. If you win, then the mansion is yours and as your guest I'll live under your rules but if I win then you'll just have to get over it or leave."

"Y- You should know the last person he fought died." Isabell stopped and turned around looking at Jackson.

"... Did he kill him? Or did this person just so happen to die on accident." Jackson got more and more scared every time Isabell looked at him and now, he was so scared that he couldn't even talk.

"Yes. I did actually." Kyle then stepped in and answered, it was a lie, but Isabell didn't need to know that.

"... hm, so you didn't. Instead, he was killed by a Freak as you call them. In that case I have no reason to fear you." Kyle was shocked on how Isabell could have possibly known he was lying.

"My lady, please don't do this!"

"It's already done Walter." Isabell then walked up the staircase to the second floor, with Isabell out of sight Kyle and Sam ran over to Jackson to help him up. Jackson was still shaking, so Sam decided to take him to a room, Roger then ran over to help, and Walter did the same to show them their room. Kyle on the other hand noticed Walter still shaking in fear and stopped him before he left.

"Walter are you ok? what did she do to you?"

"No- Nothing, she never did anything to me or Ella or Mary. Her power is just beyond terrifying!"

"What can she do? What is her power?"

"She has the power of all EVO's who come near her, I don't know how many powers she has in her arsenal, but it should be somewhere around one hundred." Sam was calling to Walter, so he bowed and continued to walk up the stairs to escort Rodger, Sam, and Jackson. Kyle on the other hand was terrified of this news, there have been records of EVO's who can mimic the abilities of other EVO's. The worst part was because such EVO's were so rare no modern government developed any device or strategy to combat their power, meaning Kyle was at a massive disadvantage. Kyle then walked down the stairs and told what he heard to Sarah and Issac who finally showed up.

"... That's not good she might be more powerful than Kyle."

"What! No that can't be true... can it?"

"Kyle's new powers are theoretically not related to those of the average EVO, or Zerku if you prefer. regardless she might have no way of collecting his power of wings or his blood, so that's Kyle's advantage. However, we have no idea what her powers allow her to do or even the exact number of them, in other words her advantage is that she is completely unpredictable."

"I'm aware that the odds are against me, but I don't think stepping down is an option and I don't want her hurting any of you."

"I am grateful to you for that, but do you even know how to fight an opponent who has hundreds of abilities to control and command as they see fit?"

"I guess I'll just have to train and hope for the best. I've been wanting to see the full capabilities of my powers anyways." As things slowly calmed down Kyle walked out of the mansion, past the front garden gates, and headed for the open field on the other side of the road. Cane and his farmers were already there, the farmers were plowing the ground and planting the seeds while Cane was making the plants fully grown. Kyle walked past them and even waved at a few of them as they waved at him. Then, Kyle started stretching to get ready but then he realized he never knew any actual exercises. He only ever got strong by getting into fights with his dad or and sometimes at school. Kyle figured since Isabell had hundreds of abilities, he should just focus more on his own abilities than strength, so he threw a fireball at a tree at the edge of the forest. Kyle's fireballs weren't that powerful, so he was only expecting a small fire on the tree but rather than setting it on fire the tree blew up into flaming debris.

"...oh ... maybe I should have tested that on something else."

"AAAAAH!" Kyle turned around to see Cane abandoning his farmers and furiously running toward him. Cane raised his fist ready to punch Kyle with all his might but seconds before Kyle dodged at high speed. Cane was surprised but then quickly enraged, so he threw another punch again and again, but each time Kyle used his high speed to dodge Cane's hits. Kyle continued to dodge but then when he backed away from Cane, he felt something latch onto his leg, it was some vine planted by Cane keeping him from moving.

"HA! Got you now asshole!"

"Come on Cane! That tree wasn't even one of yours plus I only destroyed that one tree!" Then suddenly the trees surrounding the now destroyed tree were engulfed in flames.

"...I swear that was not on purpose."

"RAAAAAH!" Cane then reached into his pocket and pulled out a seed, he then threw one seed to the burning trees. To Kyle's surprise the seed grew so fast it repaired the trees and put out the fire instantly. Cane then clenched the other seed in his fist, and it was soon covered in a thick layer of bark like armor. Cane then punched Kyle in the face but then the bark armor broke instantly and Cane's hand broke as well.

"AAAAAH!" Cane tried to continue to retaliate by throwing more seeds at Kyle and having them imprison him. Kyle sighed, ripped out of the vines with ease and then cut his hand and he let a drop of his blood fall onto Cane's hand.

"Heal." The drop of blood glowed then faded into Cane's hand, then his fingers all fixed themselves instantly and all the splinters fell out. Cane looked at his hand relieved but then Kyle grabbed his shirt by the neck and pulled him down so they would be face to face.

"Cane I am being serious now! Don't go picking fights with me or anyone else ever again! And for the love of Eden stop calling me that curse word!"

"Ok! Ok! I'm sorry... for everything... Shorty."

"*sigh* Better than nothing."

"Hey! What the hell are you guys doing?" Kyle and Cane then looked back to see Jackson was right in there in the field with them.

"Oh, hey Jackson, are you feeling better?"

"Meh, it doesn't matter how hard anyone knocks me down I'll always get back up. But what are you doing Cane? picking a fight with Kyle? You know Kyle is stronger than any of us!"

"Tch! of course the fucking crippled will say that." Cane quickly got up and shoved Jackson on the shoulder, the exact same shoulder as his missing arm. Jackson was speechless in shock, neither he nor Kyle could believe that Cane would have said that so easily like it was no big deal.

"Uh, Jackson are you-"

"Fine? of fucking course not bro, how the fuck could he just say that?"

"I don't... I don't know, he's normally not like that, I mean sure he's kind of a jerk sometimes, but I've never known him to get so hostile."

"You sure he wasn't a bully? bullies typically love picking on people's weaknesses and using it until they literally kill their victims. like a fucking parasite."

"Uh, I really don't think that's the case, look I'm going to talk to Cane later but for now can you please stop using foul language." Jackson just grunted in annoyance.

"Anyways bro, do you wanna train?"

"With you? Are you sure? I know you said your ok, but you just got attacked by Isabell."

"Hell yeah, I'm sure! I've been waiting to have a fight like this!" Kyle then turned back to the direction of the mansion and saw that Marco was running toward them with Isaac, Sarah, Sam, Sound, Oliver, Olivia, Walter and Mike.

"Kyle! Are you really going to fight Isabell?!"

"... it's either that or take the chance of living under Isabell's strict and grueling rule. I'd rather not subject any of you to that, I promised you all this place would keep you safe, I intend to keep it."

"You shouldn't fight alone thought let us help!"

"That would be unwise." Walter then stood forward so that everyone could see and hear him.

"Isabell likes showing off her power, but she does follow the rules, she requested that you fight her one on one, if you're friends help then she will unleash power that will likely cause untold chaos."

"Why do you serve that psycho?" Walter then glared at Jackson, but his expression then faded into depression.

"for the same reason you all stick together, your all you have left. Isabell's parents were possessed by those things and so were mine. She killed them all in order to keep us safe, she did that all by herself. It doesn't excuse her behavior so I'm not against Kyle fighting her, but please understand that no matter what, I will not abandon her. I owe her too much." Jackson felt ashamed that he didn't come to that conclusion on his own, Sam glared at him in anger, but he shook his head to her. He then slapped his own head to show he understood how badly he messed up.

"Well, if we can't help you fight, can't we at least help you train?" Kyle looked at Marco in a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"Do... you all really want to train with me?"

"Hell yeah! I wanna test out my blood katana!"

"Oh! Um sure. I mean, I guess I gonna have to fight eventually so might as well be ready."

"I guess I'll join in as well, it might be a perfect opportunity to further sharpen my combat skills"

"I'll join too!" Sam, Oliver, Isaac, and Marco fired up to started training, but Olivia wasn't so pumped.

"I think I'm gonna sit this out."

"Come on! You at least know how to defend yourself!"

"I going to have to agree with her, I would rather not participate in such barbaric sport."

"Your loss bro, I'm in."

"Can I join too?!" everyone looked to mike's direction, some though he was kidding and laughed a little, but Sam knew he was serious, so she tried to stop him.

"Hey little man, this is our first training thing, and we don't really know what we're getting into so you might wanna sit this one out."

"wha? Awww... Okaaay." Mike then walked over to Walter and Olivia who were at the edge of the field. Mike sat on the grass beside Benjamin and Olivia who were standing. Kyle then walked over to them, reached into his pocket and pulled Grizz out. Grizz then woke up and started to squirm angrily while still in Kyle's hand.

"You should sit this out too Grizz." Grizz growled at Kyle for waking him up, walked toward Mike, jumped on his head, and fell back to sleep.

"Aw! That's so cute!" Sam was quick to praise Grizz, but Mike was uncomfortable with a tiny bear sleeping on his head.

"Um can I get it off me?"

"I wouldn't recommend that." Mike sat there confused with Grizz sleeping on his head.

"Ok then, is everyone ready? Well then let's start with overwhelming combat I want you all you come at me at once." At first, they were ready to start fighting, but none of them knew they were actually going to fight Kyle.

"Hu?"

"W- What?!"

"Alright! Come on guys! Together we can take Kyle out!"

"Shouldn't we do some kind of warm up exercise first?"

"I don't know about you guys but I'm ready for this!"

"Uh, Kyle! I'm pretty sure you need to start things out on level one! not level fifty!"

"You better not hold back general!"

"Uh, so how exactly is this training?" Kyle couldn't help but laugh at the mixture of panic coming from Sarah, Oliver, Rodger, Sound, and Isaac with the excitement from Jackson, Sam, and Marco.

"Ahem! sorry guys but I think this training will benefit us all, it will benefit me because I'll get to know what it's like to take on multiple abilities at once while you guys will get an experience of fighting an overwhelming force."

"It might be beneficial for you to know that Lady Isabell can only use one power at a time, however she is very good at switching between them in a matter of seconds."

"Really? Thank you, Walter. In any case, for now, just make a plan of attack and when you think you ready just let me know."

"I've got a plan! Attack! We're ready!"

"Jackson!"

"In that case let us begin!" Everyone felt that they were doomed because of Jackson's stupidity but they had no choice but to charge and hope for the best. Walter, Mike, and Olivia all watched the fight wondering how it was all going to turn out, but then in an instant Kyle disappeared and everyone else all fell to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut, leaving the three of them in speechless shock.

"Well, that was disappointing." Walter, Olivia, and Mike looked to their right and saw Kyle standing right next to them.

"Not only are you guys reckless but your also really slow." Kyle then cut his wrist and seemingly disappeared again and reappeared in the same spot only now everyone who was groaning in pain on the ground now had the strength to get back up.

"Ugh... slow? SLOW?! YOU CALLED THAT SLOW?!"

"Kyle, what the hell?! We're not slow, you're just too damn fast!"

"Yeah, what was that about?! You could have at least given us a handicap!" Kyle just looked at everyone in confusion.

"What are you talking about I wasn't moving that fast?"

"Wha?! Nah! You were so fast even I barely saw it, in fact from what I saw your speed compared to mine is probably... mine compared to everyone else's!"

"... well, that's bad because I think my speed is equal to Insaro's." Hearing that made everyone tremble in fear, it was already common knowledge that Insaro was overwhelmingly powerful but now they knew the limit of his power which only made him more terrifying. Isaac, however, stood tall and raised his spear ready for round two.

"All the more reason for us to keep up our end of training, if we want to stand a chance against these Arkums we have to keep forcing our bodies to become stronger."

"Haha, alright! I'm with Isaac lets-!"

"Shut up Jackson! You're not off the hook, especially after that quick stunt you pulled!"

"Yeah, we couldn't even make a plan because of you!"

"Ugh! Yeah, yeah whatever." Jackson was still sore like everyone else, so he just stretched it out but quickly noticed that his arm wasn't there again. He looked at his empty shoulder in annoyance, he hated how he kept forgetting his arm was gone. Kyle noticed this and instantly had an idea pop up in his mind. Kyle then slit his wrist and the blood flowed out and made an arm, Kyle handed it to Jackson. Jackson looked at the arm in confusion but put it on his shoulder and it started moving on his own command.

"What the hell?"

"Is that a prosthetic or something?"

"I guess you could say that bro, it... it feels numb like some kinda ghost arm or something." Jackson then looked at the ground, then his fake blood arm, suddenly he slammed his fake arm into the ground, and it caused a rupture that shook the ground and made a loud explosion like noise.

"Holy-!"

"How did he do that?!"

"... heh, you know what? numb or not! I like the power it's got! I could get used to this!" Jackson then started showing off his arm a little in pride some like Sam, Rodger, and Marco looked at the arm in awe while others like Sarah, Isaac, and Oliver looked at the arm in disgust.

"Ahem! With that out of the way, I think it's about time we continued. Just remember your mistakes from last time and this time make a better decision... together." Everyone looked at Jackson, some concerned while others looked with disappointment.

"*sigh* Yeah sure, whatever you say, Dad."

"Ok then, let's get started."

***

after Kira was done eating, Insaro had rounded up all the Fallen in front of the library with all the Arkum's surrounding them. Insaro read their minds to see what caused their suffering which turned them into Fallen. Some of them were like this because of the loss of loved ones caused by the invasion. Insaro frowned because he knew it would be difficult to convert them; however, he smiled again when he found what he was looking for. Others had turned because of their hatred for humans and how they were hunted and tortured relentlessly by humans.

"Ahhh! So sad you all had to suffer the way you did! How dare those filthy rodents hunt you Zerku, the ones whose sole purpose is to save humanity! Those idiots should have praised you all like gods! Yet they like to think of you as monsters?! Unacceptable! You know what I say to a rodent that calls a god a monster! Death to you!" All the Arkum's roared and cheered on Insaro.

"Humans are the vermin of the universe! They should all perish for their sins! For what they did to you! For what they did to the universe!" again all the Arkum's roared and cheered but this time the Fallen decided to join in on the cheering, they started praising him like a prophet. Insaro's smile grew wider, he then put his hand on Kate's shoulder.

"You know what to do." Kate smiled as she released her bloody arms and they each went to a fallen and poked their left arms and the symbol of the order instantly appeared. They all went silent and emotionless as if they had went completely brain dead.

"Welcome to the order of darkness." As if on command all the Fallen started bowing to Kira, this surprised her but not as much as when Insaro started to laugh like a psychopath.

"Hahaha! All hail Kate! Queen of the Fallen!" Insaro raised his fists in the air and as he said this all the bowing Fallen raised their fist's to show off the brand of the Order. Kate felt excited at first being called a queen, but she wasn't smiling instead she tugged on Insaro's pants to get his attention.

"Hm? What is it my dear?"

"I don't want to be called Kate anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because it's the name my... my dad called me." Insaro then quickly kneeled down to Kate and started whipping her blood tears away.

"Ok, ok. Let's call you something else then, how about... *smiles* Reina!" Kate shook her head.

"Ok then... how about Upal?" again Kate shook her head, only now more confused about the name.

"Alright... hm... ok, why not Kira?" Kate's face then lit up and she smiled while nodding her head to the name.

"Then it's settled! All hail Kira! Queen of the Fallen!" All of the Fallen then got back up and started cheering on Kira and at the same time the Arkum's were roaring and cheering her on as well. Kira smiled to Insaro as he lifted her up, she then started giggling joyfully as she rested her forehead on Insaro's. Insaro was laughing joyfully too knowing that his plan was going so smoothly. As the Arkum's continued cheering Insaro noticed something moving among the crowd. Two Fallen finally managed to pass the crowd and started walking up the library steps to get on the entrance level where Insaro, Kira, and the other Fallen were.

"Ah, Frost! Nice of you to show up I hope you have some good news." Frost looked at the other Fallen and was shocked but remembered he was in the presence of Kira, and Insaro so he quickly bowed. Megan was still looking at the other Fallen in shock, so she didn't bow, Frost noticed this and quickly used his right arm to force her to bow.

"Apologizes for the delay master Insaro and Lady Kate. I-"

"it's queen Kira now."

"R- Right I apologize for my rudeness."

"Hm, pay it no mind but next time try to use the collective consciousness before addressing your superiors. now then it seems I rudely interrupted your report, please forgive me and continue."

"of course, Master. anyways, I have two bits of information first, the Child of Eden and his pets have moved location, I saw the location and will send the information to the Collective Consciousness after I am done with my report. second... well, I found a little friend that can explain everything." Kira and Insaro then noticed that one of Frost's pentagram was activated and had a tentacle reaching all the way into the edge of town. Frost's tentacles were nothing like Kira's instead his were what looked like blue fabric woven into long scarfs that at appearance were so thin and extremely soft. However, like Kira's tentacles, they were tough as titanium and strong enough to lift a car. Frost then retracted his tenacle and as it was flowing back into his pentagram it was also dragging something it was holding onto. As Insaro put Kira back down the two of them were shocked to see it was a feral Fallen, what made it feral was how not only was it thrashing around trying to break free, but it was also not a member of the Order like the rest of them.

"Um Frost? what is this?"

"This master, is Fallen that has fought the Child head on, granted it lost but what it experienced could be useful to add to the collective consciousness. If you would allow me, Queen Kira, I would like to do the honor of devouring this Fallen and consuming both its power and information."

"Why not just make him one of us?" Frost was confused by Kira's suggestion but before she could go on, Insaro stepped forward.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, give him the brand and then send him back only this time with a death squad. he and the death squad will take care of the rodents; thus, leaving the Child and the other Zerku parasites alone and without help. Then once we have amassed all the forces the area has to offer, we will crush the Child from all sides and claim his power in the name of the Order!" All the Arkums and Fallen started cheering, Frost started clapping while Megan stayed silent or at least until Frost elbowed her to make her start clapping. Kira was pouting at first knowing that Insaro interrupted her and stole her plan, however Insaro quickly started playfully pinching her cheeks to which she started laughing as she playfully pushed him away. Insaro then playfully picked up Kira again and held her in his arms.

"Haha! And when the child is dead, this planet will finally belong to us! Right papa?!"

"Hahahahaha! My dear, this planet was ours the moment we got here!"

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help me, arataka! you’re my only hope! [reigen arataka]

summary: you never believed in ghosts, but when strange things start to happen to you, you turn to a psychic. word count: 2.2k warnings: gn!reader, mild ghost violence, profanity, slightly suggestive at the end (not explicit) a/n: i started mp100 a week ago and here i am in the reigen club *honks my little clown nose* and yes the title is a star wars reference

You never believed in ghosts. Unlike most kids, you did not fear the supposed spirits haunting dark allies, school hallways, or empty streets at night. Obviously you still had fears — everybody does — but ghosts? They’re made up stories to keep nosy people from looking where they aren’t supposed to. Complete nonsense. Utter bullshit.

At least, that’s what you used to think.

Now, you’re cowering in your bathtub with a ladle in hand — your weapon of choice — as you will whatever the fuck is in your kitchen to leave you alone. You listen as it crashes through pots and pans, glass cups shattering to the floor. You dread the mess that awaits you outside. After nearly an hour of this torment, the apartment becomes dead silent, to which you carefully creep towards the door and peek outside. Finding nothing but broken kitchenware and an empty fridge, you groan, seeking your broom to clean it all up. Once the destruction has been dealt with, you’re rushing to make a search you never in a million years thought you would have to make: ghost exorcists.

Scrolling through the results, you find dozens of shady-looking psychics and spiritual cleansers who promise to rid you of spirits for the “low” price of one-hundred-thousand yen. You’re about ready to give up, resolved to the fact that you’ll be haunted by a gluttonous ghost for the rest of your life, when something catches your eye. Clicking on a link to a webpage so bright and full of flashing gifs that you nearly get a headache from staring, you happen to discover one psychic with generally good reviews. Reigen Arataka, owner of the Spirits and Such Consultation Office, doesn’t seem to be charging ridiculous prices — not ones that are out of your budget, at least. He apparently exorcised some high-level spirits, too. Despite your lack of knowledge on ghosts, you decide to give the guy a chance. You find the office’s address on the page and enter it into your phone’s map, already rushing out of the door.

When you arrive at the psychic’s office, you feel uneasy upon seeing its run-down storefront. Still, you swallow back your pride and push open the door. Inside, you immediately see Reigen Arataka at his desk, his feet kicked up while he leans back in his chair, a magazine covering his face as he snores. Frowning, you stand in the middle of the room, hope draining from your body the longer you stare at the psychic.

After a moment, you clear your throat, but the man does not stir. Taking a deep breath, you step forward and knock harshly against his desk, watching as the magazine flys through the air. The man nearly falls backwards in his chair, but he wobbles and balances himself quickly, adjusting his tie and perking up once he catches sight of you.

The first thought Reigen has upon seeing you is that you are attractive — blindingly so. He has half a mind to start chatting you up right then and there, but he’s a professional man, so he puts on a charming smile and greets you. “Hello there! How may I help you on this fine day?”

“You’re Arataka, right?” You inquire, still hesitant. “I need your help with a spirit or… whatever.”

Reigen nods, gesturing for you to take a seat before him. “So, having troubles with a spirit? Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

“Well, it started a little over a week ago. I came home from work and my kitchen was a mess — food all over the floor, cupboards hanging open, utensils everywhere — and I thought somebody had robbed me. The only thing missing was food though, so the police told me to make sure my door was locked and that was it. It happened again a few days later, same thing as before, and there was still no help from the cops.

“Earlier this week, though, I was at home, asleep on the couch. I heard a glass shattering, and I thought someone had broken in again. I grabbed a book, hoping if I hit the guy hard enough I could knock him out, but there was no one in my kitchen. The crazy thing is, I saw a carton of milk float out of my fridge and disappear into thin air. It was like some invisible person had taken it and started drinking it right in front of me. I screamed and the carton fell over, and I swear I felt something cold rush past me, then it was quiet. I’ve found more and more food missing, even after I buy groceries, and today that thing came back again. It left a mess in my kitchen so I cleaned up and headed here right after.”

You sigh once you finish explaining the whole situation, fearing that you must sound crazy. To your surprise, Reigen nods, seeming to write some notes down. “I see, sounds like you’ve got a real problem out there. What did you say your name was?” You tell him your name — spelling it out for clarification — and Reigen hums. “Great. I will gladly help you out in your time of need!” he confirms, smiling brightly.

Eyes lighting up, you feel your jaw drop slightly. “Really? You’ll help?”

“Of course! I’ll speak with my associate and we’ll head over to your place tomorrow to see what we can do. Now, which package would you like to choose?” Arataka wonders, slipping a sheet with various prices listed. When you say nothing, his smile falters as he looks at you curiously.

“Tomorrow?” you say quietly. “You can’t take a look today?”

“Afraid not. I’m a busy man, you see—”

“You were asleep when I got here!” You cry, frustration rising. “Why can’t you come over now?”

“Listen here,” Reigen begins with a stern but level tone. “I’m telling you I’m busy. I can’t just stop by every client’s place the second they walk in. If you’re serious about this, you’ll wait. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to do the job.”

Desperation must be getting to you, because you find yourself reaching forward to take Reigen’s hands in yours. You try to convey every once of your despair as you beg, “Please help me, Arataka. You’re my only hope.”

Reigen finds himself crumbling under your gaze. Rarely is he ever swayed by a client — he curses your good looks and display of anguish for his final decision. “Alright,” he says slowly. “But we have to wait for my partner to get here. I’ll call him right away.”

You squeeze his hands and convey your gratitude, thanking Arataka for his willingness to help. There is the tiniest bit of guilt in your gut for playing it up for the guy, but it’ll be worth it if he actually gets rid of whatever’s causing you trouble. You wait patiently with the psychic after he calls up his partner, expressing that they have an urgent case to attend to. Soon enough, the door jingles as Arataka’s assistant arrives, and you’re quite surprised to see a young boy — no older than fifteen, you think — standing by the door.

“Hello, Master.”

“Mob, great to see you! Our client here has a spirit that’s been raiding their kitchen. We have to check it out and exorcise it immediately!” Reigen says, voice full of passion. You marvel at his sudden eagerness to help you, but you follow the pair out of the office as they talk amongst themselves for a bit. They clamber into your car as you drive them over to your apartment, anxiety levels rising the closer you get to the place. By the time you park outside your building, your hands are trembling slightly, but you hide it by directing the boys to your apartment.

The boy — Mob, apparently — looks around with Arataka at his side. Reigen inspects your kitchen, humming curiously when he notices scratch marks and your empty fridge. “What do you think, Mob?” he finally asks.

“I can sense something faintly, but I’m not sure if the spirit is still present,” the boy confirms.

Reigen nods. “Yes, I was sensing that as well. It seems to have left the apartment. Say, do you happen to have some leftover lunch on you, Mob?”

The boy tilts his head curiously, sifting through his pockets to find a couple pieces of candy. “This is all, Master. Why do you ask?”

The psychic takes the candy and places it on the kitchen counter. “That’ll do! My guess is that the spirit will be hungry enough to return for more, and then we can finally rid our dear client of the spirit!”

“Really? You think that could work?” You wonder, somewhat skeptical.

Before Reigen can respond with reassurance, the building shakes. The room chills and you shiver, recognizing the cold that followed the spirit. “It’s here,” you gasp.

Mob agrees, looking around. “They’re right. The presence is growing stronger.”

Arataka stands near you, arm shielding your body from the invisible force coming closer. “You stay right here, got it? I’ll keep you safe!” he exclaims. Your heart flutters slightly in your chest, but you simply nod, allowing the man to guard you.

Mob watches as a grotesque-looking spirit suddenly floats through the wall. It looks green and slimy, with slobber dripping from its tongue as it speaks. “Soooo hungry!” it whines, floating towards the counter. It sees the candy, and snatches it greedily. The spirit’s head is thrown back and it swallows the sweets whole, gulping loudly. Reigen nearly wretches at the sight. “Need more…!” The spirit cries, slamming its hands on the counter. The room shakes and kitchenware falls to the floor as the spirit throws a tantrum. “Need more! Need more! Need more!” It shrieks, sending utensils flying through the air as it sifts through the cupboards.

“Come on Mob, exorcise it!” Reigen yells, steadying you when you stumble from the spirit’s actions.

The boy dodges as utensils fly through the kitchen, his hand raised towards the spirit. It lets out a shrill cry as his hand glows, multicolor lights bursting from his palm and shooting like a laser at the being. It whips around, smashing anything it can reach before disappearing with a pop. When all is said and done, you find yourself clinging to Arataka’s arm, heart pounding in your chest. The boy turns around calmly while you stare in awe. “It’s gone? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” the psychic confirms, patting your hand currently wrapped around his forearm. You pull away in embarrassment, but Reigen only smiles.

Mob speaks up in front of you. “Master? I have to get going now.”

“Really? So soon?” If you didn’t know anybody, you would guess from his tone that the psychic was relieved to see the boy leave early. You could only begin to guess as to why.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I have other plans. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The pair say their goodbyes, leaving you to stare at your mess of a kitchen. Reigen lingers at your door for a moment before working up the courage to ask, “Do you like soba noodles? I know a good place.”

You perk up at the offer, a little surprised by his question. “You want to get soba noodles? With me?”

Reigen grins, waving you over. “If you’ll have me, of course. Your fridge is empty, after all.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you agree, leading the psychic to your car. He tells you directions as you drive down the streets, eventually leading you to a small restaurant claiming to sell the best noodles in all of Japan.

After you’ve taken a seat and made your orders, you fish out your wallet and begin to count your money. “How much do I owe you?” You ask. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay extra for having you come by on short notice.”

To your astonishment, Reigen waves the offer away. His hand closes over your own. “No need. Let’s just call it a favor, yeah?”

Frowning, you shake your head. “No, I couldn’t do that. You and that kid really helped me today, seriously. I never even believed ghosts were real until now. I owe it to you.”

With a light laugh that sounds like music to your ears, the man relents. “Okay, how about this: You pay for our meal tonight and we’ll call it even. Good?” He opens his palm for you to shake on it, to which your hand settles into his.

“Alright, Arataka.”

“Please, call me Reigen,” he offers, keeping his hand in yours until the waiter appears with your food.

The meal is a great one, enjoyed over laughter and slurps of broth — you’re not sure if it’s because of Reigen’s easy charm or if it’s because these really are the best noodles in all of Japan, but you leave the restaurant feeling lighter than before. Once you’re both seated in your car, you ask, “Where to?”

The sky has darkened to violet and the streetlights cast shadows on his face, but you can still make out the glint in Reigen’s mahogany eyes when three simple words fall from his lips: “Mine or yours?”

You never believed in ghosts, but you find yourself grateful that you were proven otherwise.

#dove writes #c: reigen arataka #reigen arataka x reader #arataka reigen x reader #reigen arataka imagine #mp100 x reader #mob psycho 100 x reader #arataka x reader #reigen x reader #self insert #corpse x reader

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