#the world around her distorts as you get closer so it looks more like in-game her

[undercoverpena]

can you ever really know?

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

summary: marcus hadn’t intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.

word count: 3k warnings: smut, marcus eating you out on a table (f!recieving). dedication: this is a dual dedication, both to @perotovar who i adore and has spurned me on, and to @psychedelic-ink who whooped so hard when i said i wanted to write this, that i finished it for her 9k celebration

"Is this what we do then? Just two strangers who buy each other drinks?" Dipping his chin, he half-laughs, trying to see the scribbled name on your cup. "Well, we don't have to be strangers." "Oh, nice. Very smooth." "Too much?" Shaking your head, you turn the cup—allowing him to see your name. "No, I liked it." "Yeah?" Nodding, you begin grinning, before hiding it with a sip of your drink.

Marcus hadn’t intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.

It was accidental. A chance encounter. An event that had wholly thrown him off his game as he stood in line at the coffee shop, soul prickly, from the day he was having.

On some level—the practical part of him, the one that deals in facts and statistics—he suspected it was why it was then you’d stepped into his world. Not even hovering in his peripheral, but front and centre in front of him in the queue. Your phone nervously tapping in your palm—eyes looking over your shoulder, not at him, but not through him.

You’d bought him his drink first. A pay it forward thing—or so he was told when he’d finally chosen his drink.

A gesture that stuck with him remained embedded somewhere in his head, rotting away.

Marcus never expected to see you again. The chances were slim, the odds so low it wasn’t worth thinking—but then he did. Same time, same place. 

You were in front of him again as he pulled open the heavy glass door and was confronted with the back of you he’d been trying not to think about in his downtime. This time, your attire was different, more casual—less ‘on the way to work’ and more out doing errands. But, unlike before, you kept your head down, barely even a sound over a whisper when you ordered your drink.

It etched a place in him that stuck around until the next time.

By then, he’d wrongly assumed that your timings matched his. But, when he walked into the coffee shop, his stomach fell to his feet—disappointment blooming where his organ once was because you weren’t there.

Typically ahead of him, arriving a few minutes before. 

Marcus trying to swallow back how frustrated he felt that he’d made progress, felt good, almost ready to even say a hello to you and then… you weren’t even here. His feet dragging, plastering on a smile as he walked up to the barista, shoulders sinking, until he heard the door open.

Somehow, before he even looked, he knew it was you. 

Your voice cut in over the distorted music, covering the cheap speaker and the grinding of beans as you said goodbye to whoever you spoke to on the phone. And he knew he had one chance—one.

So, Marcus bought you a coffee.

Quickly coming up with an excuse, a reason—if it went wrong, he’d say he was simply paying the kindness back. 

But you hadn’t asked him why. Instead, your reply was as bold as he wished he was.

It’s how he found himself across from you in the coffee shop, spending the remainder of that drink learning all he could—half-tempted to buy another so the two of you didn’t have to part.

Instead, he asked for the same time next week. Your smile stuck with him for the next six days and twenty-three hours until he could see you again. 

And it was better than the first.

“You going to ask me out, Marcus?”

Sipping his coffee, he licked his lips. “Thought I already did.”

Shrugging, you leaned closer. “Guess I’ll do it then. You fancy getting dinner with me?”

That’s how he found himself at a red tablecloth with a flickering candle. You sitting in a similar position as you had been in the coffee shop when you’d handed him your name on your cup, and he’d given you his with a shake of his hand—all careful, wrapped in softness, a sweet bow on the top perfectly positioned by a smile.

It going well—too well.

A part of him screaming to slow down, already feeling, already wanting—

“I need to tell you…”

Leaning over the table, you smile. “I knew it. You had to have a flaw—you don’t actually like coffee, do you?”

It happens slowly, and flows in stages: First, a smile, one which grows into a grin. Then, he laughs. Before finally, his body leans closer, fingers ghosting over, almost touching yours.

The part of him still wounded, sore, the only thing stopping him from taking your hand in his.

“No. I—I, um, have quite an unhealthy addition to that.”

Smirking, you glide your tongue across your lips, sliding your hand to your glass, eyes holding his—waiting, giving him the floor.

“I just wanted to tell you that I really like getting to know you.” Your face flickers, ever so slightly. Perfectly in time with the dancing candle, almost could be blamed on the trick of the light—but he isn’t anyone. He’s trained, all able to read people. “But, I… my last relationship didn’t end so well. And while I’m over it—over her—I... I don’t want to rush this.”

Your smile sweetens, lips rolling as you sigh, ever so softly. “I like getting to know you too, Marcus,” you reply, fingers sliding across the base of your glass—a smile, hanging so kindly on your face. “We can just… see what happens. Take it easy, like we have been.”

Beaming, he licks his lips. Slowly grinning—letting the words “see what happens” around on his tongue before he laughs. A gentle one, his hand running along his beard.

“Yeah. That’ll be… nice.”

Casual, you follow up with as his knee abuts yours under the table, watching as your chin rests on one of your hands, as the other scoops up your glass, smirking against it as you take a sip.

He felt it then, the sparkle—the crackle in the air.

His eyes could not tear themselves away from you—just like he hadn’t in the coffee shop. He was enamoured, fully taken in. Marcus hung off each word and studied each expression on your face. 

He blames that for the reason he finds himself pushing your back against your front door, the keys jingling in your hand, the evening very much far from over. His mouth on yours, searing, almost bruisingly kissing you.

It isn’t until your breath is ghosting over his, lips ever so close, his body flush with yours, that you speak, your eyes flicking from his to his lips and back again. “I thought you wanted to—”

“I’m seeing what happens…”

Your lips curl. “You sure you want to do that, Agent Pike?”

He has to swallow a moan. The way you let his name fall from your lips so velvety, makes his trousers even tighter. The hand on your waist tightens, clutching you more so, before his mouth spells all the words he wants to say against yours—kissing away any doubt that he doesn’t want this, you.

“Open the door,” he says, kissing it to your lips. “Please.” 

Thank fuck you do.

Guiding you in, walking you backwards. Hand sliding up to your cheek, wrist resting against your jaw as he traces his tongue over your bottom lip, easing you against a wall, hearing your door click shut—

“I just… I just need a minute,” you whisper. A hand on his chest, not pushing, but just there—fingers stroking his shirt, nodding. “Just one minute.”

Nodding, he gives you another kiss. Stepping back, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen from his forehead as you held up a finger, another sign of promise, just a minute, and he smiles, doing as you instruct when you tell him to get comfortable.

Your place is nice—cosy.

The windows are all tall and long, the sheer curtains barely able to put up much of a fight against the city’s lights. He suspects you chose it for the light. Something about you screams light and airy, easy and inviting—a thing which is embedded into everything you do. From the initial greeting to now.

The only light casting over your place is the one from the city—it illuminates your table, the one in the centre of the space, glass, pretty fabric chairs around it. No marks, not a single fingerprint. His mind quickly imagines you eating at it most mornings. The flirty text messages the two of you have been exchanging between the coffee date and tonight, all beginning here, until he joins you on your commute to work.

A thought, all dangerous and unwilling to go, pops up. There’s no pin able to burst it, not as it grows—it expanding, filling the expanse of his head and ridding him of all other thoughts—

“Nice table,” he announces, following the sound of you joining him.

Not needing sight to know where you are, already in tune with you—even if he’s told himself to slow down. To not fall as quickly, take his time—breathe.

“Oh, yeah? I-It’s new.”

His throat tightens, the thought pushing further against his skull—knowing if there were even a flicker from a candle, you’d be able to see how lustful his eyes were.

“How new?”

His question burns in the air. Sizzling. The air thickens. The only sound coming from a neighbour above walking around in what sounded like heels. But, all he’s focused on is that you’re beside him—shoulder against his arm, eyes forward, staring out at the view. As though you don’t get to marvel at it each day, as though you haven’t had your fill of it.

Not that he can blame you. He’s had plenty of chances to take you in—taking all he can get—and he still doesn’t feel he’s committed you all to memory.

“Barely eaten at it myself, never mind anyone else—if that answers your question.”

It does.

“We should change that.”

“Why? You hungry?” you ask, meeting his eyes—and he wonders if you can feel it then.

Wonders if you’ve caught on and can hear it rolling around his mind, banging around, nothing able to stop it.

Smirking, you must suddenly arrive at his way of thinking. Your body turns towards him, arm looping around his waist, as his hand cups your cheek.

“S’not too late to tell me to leave,” he whispers.

Your lips curl, but only smooth out into a smile. “I don’t want you anywhere else, Marcus.”

He’s quick, intent—crashing his mouth to yours so you know he feels the same. His other hand sliding around your waist, a groan emitting from your throat, travelling up and kissing his tongue.

And he can’t quiet the voice, the bubble that bounces from one side of his skull to the other. It’s why it escapes through a kiss, muffled, but not enough not to be discernible:

Get on the table, baby.

It’s branded into the air, burnt there. Hanging as your lips halt in their movements against his. Hand hovering, poised, eyes lashes opening to coat him in momentary confusion.

His lips slide into a smirk, your eyes flicking to it, before lifting back up. “Nice glass table like this,” he continues, voice low, husky, “Someone should eat at it.”

Watching as you swallow, your fingers brush against his cheek, against the beard on his cheek. “That so?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to you. ��Yes,” he groans, nose butting yours. Briefly catching you shudder, “Think you can let me taste you on your nice table?”

Marcus takes the moan as a yes—takes the way you try to position yourself, as another.

His fingers move to your trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping with ease until they’re gliding down your legs, unveiling them inch by inch to him—lit up in the glow from the world outside. Sliding the fabric from your skin with ease, before he helps you, guiding you, positioning you like he would if he were making a table arrangement.

Your legs close, eyes looking at him through your lashes. 

Cupping your cheeks with his palms, he pulls your eyes to his.  “You okay?”

Nodding, rolling your lips. “Yeah… just like you, is all.” 

Fuck, you’re pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. More so when he aids you in removing your other clothes, leaving only the fabric between your thighs while he stares at you. Takes you in because—

You’re a wonder. A sight for sore eyes and an image that should be studied in a gallery. He’d thieve you, would abandon all of his morals and prize you from a wall, let your captured eyes solder holes into him forever.

But he doesn’t need to.

You’re already doing so without him having to do much. They leave a mark, scratching against him.

“I like you too. S’ why I wanna make you feel good, baby. Okay?” 

A hand drops, sliding over the fabric between your legs. Feeling it, how much you want this. Him. Tonight. He even hears it as you whimper before he teases your underwear down your legs—the little wet patch quickly caught by his gaze, before he throws them in a similar vein to your other clothes.

“Wanna taste you, baby. Want you to come against my tongue. Will you? Can I?”

His hand continues to clutch your cheek, thumbs swiping a line back and forth as his words register and your breath hitches. But your thighs part, all for him. One hand drops to your leg, fingers drawing shapes, teasing, climbing higher and higher until his other hand mirrors his on your other leg, basking in the way you stare at him, holding onto his sight with every teasing touch.

Not begging. Not asking.

Waiting, ever so patiently.

Perfect. Oh, so fucking perfect.

Sliding around the back of your thighs, his fingers dig, pressing little half-moons into the underside of you, as he parts your legs further—eyes dropping, marvelling, ever thankful for the glow so he can see the way you glisten, the way you need and want him, it all evidenced, able to be captured.

“So wet for me already.”

“Marcus,” you moan.

His name elongated, special. It hits the air—and his ears—in a way that licks heat up his spine. The flames smother his bones when he spreads you with a finger, it circling, coating up to the knuckle in your desire.

Then, he dives.

All tongue flat to your core as the sound of ‘oh fuck’ punches the air. A sound he wants to collect, and earn—licking a stripe before he spells letters against your bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking the tip as your nails grasp his hair.

You make sounds that make him feel holy, that could bring him to his goddamn knees. He wants to pull them all from you, more so when his name begins to join them—when you’re panting, pleading, please, Marcus, fuck right there, Marcus.

He grins against you, tasting and flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves that has your hips arching into his face. But Marcus continues, placing a hand on your stomach, pinning you down, giving and giving—

Then he pauses. Purposefully stops, just blowing a cool breath to earn a whimper.

Your eyes steam him. Narrowed, eyebrows dropped to shape them. Your breath ragged, body thrumming, vibrating with how close you were.

Shooting you another grin, he plunges his tongue inside you—relishing how your walls tighten around him. Enjoying the way you taste, the way your fingers have found a home in his hair, tugging and pulling, nails all against his scalp.

The air is smeared in gasps, moans. A chorus of his name. All of it falling into the air around him and you, becoming a song, all instrumental, rising to a crest, ready to crash.

Fuck, he wants nothing more. Marcus wants to be travelling home and still be able to taste how sweet you are, to hear the noises you make because they’re sliced somewhere in his brain.

“You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna make sure I can taste you when I’m in bed alone tonight.”

You whimper.

His tongue continues to lap, to take everything you’ll give him as he slides two fingers in. Your walls tightening, gripping him—all vice-like and needy. And Marcus is pleading, if only internally, for you to scorch him, singe and sear yourself into him.

“S-so close, M-Marcus—”

He knows. “I know. Let go for me. Be good for me.”

And you do.

You really fucking do.

He feels you tighten, and tense, before his tongue is flooded, your legs shake, and your toes curl. His movements continue, brutally guiding you over the edge, pushing and pushing until he feels you loosen your hold on his hair—trying to wiggle from his mouth.

Marcus isn’t sure he’s ever felt so good.

Positioning himself so he’s stood at full height, staring down at you, trying to capture your breath—lit up by the star-filled sky and sparkling city. You’re beautiful, he thinks for the billionth time tonight.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, watching your eyes open, landing on him, taking him in.

Your lips spread into a lust-filled smile, tinged with exhaustion, but there’s a spark there, too. Something having been awoken, ready, riling itself up.

He suspects he won’t be going home tonight, not that he really wanted to.

"Not to rush you, but we'll be late for the movie." Your lips press to his cheek when he steps into your space, apology stitched there—usually so punctual, on time. "I just need to grab a jacket if that's okay?" He grins, bites the inside of his cheek as he nods, hearing you dart off—taking the few short steps further into your place, spotting the table, walking to it. Immediately, memories knock into him. Loitering, pacing. Until his eyes land on the fingerprints, his thumb ghosting over it—finding it the perfect match. All knowing, and realising. It makes his throat dry as heat licks up his spine as you emerge, fiddling with your jacket. "You're... um, not cleaned your table." "I've cleaned up where you... you know, but not your handprints. No." He huffs out a laugh, tracing his bottom lip with his thumb. "Why's that?" You smirk, bashfully, trying to disguise it by biting the inside of your cheek. "Guess I like the memory of you being here." "And, what I did to you." "Very astute, Agent Pike. You wanna head out or do you wanna see if my pillow still smells like your hair product?" He slaps you on the ass for that.

AN: first time writing marcus. this was supposed to be 1k, the original was 6k. but i felt happier with this 🙈 pls be nice.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader smut #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedrostories #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus pike smut

[hiatuswhore]

𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕥, 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪’𝕣𝕖 ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 — ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕖!𝔸𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕓

♕ A/N: Just a little blurb that was stuck in my head. I feel college Aemond would be good at banter. In my brain College!Aemond is a finance bro who is either a conceited dick or really chill guy all the girlies befriend and crush on.

♕ SUMMARY: Frat parties serve for two reasons. Hooking up with the person you’ve been pining for and free alcohol. That does not mean it’s always accomplished.

♕ WORD COUNT: 1K

♕ WARNING: Cursing, Sexual content, fraternity

♕ MASTERLIST: House of the Dragon Masterlist

You chew the inside of your cheek, eyes scanning the party. The blend of weed and sweat with a masking layer of cheap perfume consuming your nostrils.

“Lighten up!” Daniela whines, dancing to the music without care. I’m an idiot. Your romper pinches at the waist, emphasizing your hips. Not a curl or coil out of place with your makeup providing a natural glow that you spent hours perfecting. All for a guy who stands amongst his friends, not sparing you a glance. You lean on a back wall, a grimace painting your lips—there’s not enough Axe in the world to cover that.

“So which frat idiot did you doll for?” Turning your head, you raise an eyebrow at the brazen man. He wears a long sleeve black shirt and jeans. You chuckle softly, the dainty chain and brand new sneakers in a sea of college hoodies and busted air forces—a freshman. The silver of his hair and leather patch should be telling in itself, but the haze of tequila and weed stifle your context clues. His daring gaze and playful grin earn a faux sheepish smile. You flutter your eyelashes, welcoming the heady distraction, a game of cat and mouse.

“And if I said you?“ You watch as the nameless man’s eyebrow raises. He lifts his cups to his lips, covering his chuckle. The alcohol further distorts the predator and the prey. Joining you leaning on the wall, he scans the room. You are sure it’s his first year or, at best, a transfer.

“There likely wouldn’t be much left of you at the end of the night,” He says. Your mouth gapes at his matter-of-fact tone. The black of his shirt gives the dainty silver chain around his neck more shine, faint lines poking from the hem of his shirt teasing a hidden tattoo. You raise your cup, staring off at nothing in particular. He watches you with a grin—waiting for your next move. Finally, he wets his lips, leaning closer to you, “What are you drinking? Want me to get you something?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Capturing his gaze, a grin sits on your lips. Your eyes cut to the pong table.

“Could you get me that? The frat idiot is Jace Velaryon. We’ve been texting on Instagram but the flirting never really goes beyond that. I want to talk to him but I’d rather chew on a fork than walk over there,” You offer your name casually and he reveals his own Aemond — shit they’re related. Aemond’s smile widens at the break in your facade, he knows that you know.

“You and I breaking up?” A hearty laugh leaves your lips bubbling from the pit of your stomach. Your cheeks feel warm, and you thank the heavens it does not show beyond your giddy smile.

“Listen, you’re cute, but I’m a junior. I’m only at this house party because Jace invited me, so smooth guy, what am I saying to your—?” You trail off, looking back over at Jace; Aemond follows your gaze, his jaw clenching at the sight.

“My nephew. You can tell him it’s rude to text his uncle’s lady,” Aemond quips, raising an eyebrow at the misdirection. Rolling your eyes, you nudge his arm.

“You wish. Come on,” You say. Aemond focuses on his nephew as you meet Daniela’s gaze. Her dramatic mouthing makes you roll your eyes in response.

“You’re pretty good at it, just go flirt with him,” Aemond says, tilting your head; you furrow your eyebrows at him, asking how. “Like you’re doing with me.”

“You’re a freshman. It’s easy,” You chuckle, shrugging your shoulders. Aemond leans in close, his baritone voice sending a shudder down your spine.

“Yeah, but I fuck like a sophomore,” His words are quick but not rushed, he leans back without a care in the world. Your mind runs to formulate sentences, but nothing leaves your lips. Aemond positions himself behind you with his breath grazing the shell of your ear, “Cat got your tongue? If my nephew is who you want, go over there. Bat your lashes and do the little shy act before you say something provocative. It’s memorable, that’s for sure.”

You drink his words like water on a hot day. Shaking your head out of his trance, you spin around to face him. A grin plays on his lips, teetering on a tightrope between confidence and arrogance. Licking your lips, the meager space between you grows smaller, “And what if I do?”

“What is that old saying? I think it goes, hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” He says. A scoff leaves your lips, carrying sheer amusement. You step back, forgetting that you share a room with many other undergraduates.

“Everything okay here?” Daniela chews her bottom lip, and her eyes bounce between the two of you. Aemond turns to her with a charming smile.

“Great, actually. Your friend here is interested in my nephew. Jace Velaryon,” Aemond says, nudging his head toward the pong table. Daniela briefly looks over, rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah, she thinks he’s sexy,” Daniela speaks plainly, and you stare at her wide-eyed, earning a shrug in response. You hiss, “Daniela!”

“That’s funny, Daniela, because I think your friend is really sexy,” Aemond’s calm tone garners an incessant giggle from Daniela. She struggles to get out words in the midst of choking and laughing. Finally, Daniela offers Aemond a broad smile, turning to you. Her eyes roll back as she mouths, sleep with him, leaving the two of you alone again.

“No way you just said that,” You say, joining his side against the wall. Aemond turns, looking down at you with pursed lips as he fights a grin.

“Oh, but I did. I think you’re the sexiest girl in here. It’s a shame it’s wasted on my nephew,” He takes out his phone, typing away before locking it and turning back to you. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, taking it out—an Instagram notification stares back at you.

Aemond Targaryen (ATargaryen) started following you.

“I hope there is more than just flirting in store for us.” He walks away without sparing a glance back. You watch him until his silver hair disappears further into the house. The invitations clear, your mouth drying as he leaves the ball in your court.

#aemond targaryen au #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen au #alicent hightower #Alicent Hightower imagine #Alicent Hightower au #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon imagine #lucerys velaryon imagine #lucerys velaryon #rhaenrya targaryen imagine #Jacaerys velaryon au #daemon targaryen imagine #house of dragons imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

[terrestrialnoob]

“I bet we can get a reservation at The Orchard,” Kim suggested.

Ron nodded, “Yeah, I guess it has been a while since we went to, like, a really nice place.”

“So, as long as nothing world ending happens between now and Saturday-”

Just as Km said it, her locker beeped and as she opened it, the computer she kept in it flickered on showing Wade in his usual place, looking slightly nervous. Wade being nervous was never a good thing.

“Hey Wade, what’s the sitch?”

“Hey Kim,” Wade said, but his voice wavered a little as he asked, “I was wondering if I could get a favor from Ron.”

“Not me?” Kim asked immediately.

“Ron’s more the style I’m looking for.”

“Ron’s style?” Kim asked incredulously, but Ron put his hand on her shoulder.

“I get it Wade, whatever you need, I got it covered.”

“Thanks.” Wade’s image on Kim’s locker computer switched to a photo from Wade’s last family reunion, all the kids of five aunts and uncles and six more older cousins in one shot. A red circle blinked into existence at the edge of the photo, around Wade and a slightly older kid standing next to him with his hand on Wade’s shoulder wearing a red beret and thick black rimmed glasses. “This is my cousin, Tucker. He and his friends are coming to visit Middleton this weekend for the science convention.”

“Wait, cousin Tucker? The Cousin Tucker?” Ron nearly shoving Kim out of the way of the locker to get a better look at the photo.

Kim rolled her eyes then asked, “Is he a big deal?”

“Uh, cheah,” Ron said, letting Kim back in front of the locker, “He helped Wade design your battle suit!”

“That’s the one,” Wade said, “He gave me the idea to make it, and he has a lot of experience working on high-powered combat jumpsuits. Really, he did most of the designing part of it; I just did all the hard work of actually making it.”

“Really? High-powered combat jumpsuits is something someone can have a lot of experience with?” Kim asked, but it did make sense. She had been a bit surprised that Wade had come up with the battle suit; he’s a gadget guy, not a suit guy. And there wasn't a shortage of teenage geniuses in the world.

“Yeah, he's awesome, and his friends?” Wade said, and an image came onto the screen of a teenage girl with dyed black hair. She wore a black tank top with a purple bat in the center of the chest and unattached long bell sleeves along with a black and green plaid miniskirt over torn black tights. Her knee high boots had thick blocky souls that made her at least four inches taller and were covered in straps and metal. In the photo, she was leaning on a wall pointing at a horror movie poster next to her. “This is Sam Manson, she was the top, the number one, Doomed player in the world, and right now, she’s top ten in the sequel, Eternal Torment, and money’s on her to break top five within the month.”

“Eternal Torment!” Ron shouted, getting strange looks from others in the hall, but he didn’t care, “The online video game that’s so hard 50% of all players rage quite before finishing it?”

“That’s a myth, it’s closer to 32% and lowering with the new patches, but yes, that’s the one.”

“Woah,” Ron basically had heart eyes as he stared at the goth gamer girl, and Kim wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t.

“What about this guy?” Kim asked, other photos of Wade’s cousin and his friends had come up, usually with three people, Tucker, Sam, and the one Kim was pointing at now. He had naturally black hair and bright blue eyes, and while Tucker's and Sam’s outfits changed in every image, he seemed to wear the same torn jeans, NASA t-shirt, and red hoodie in everything he was in. Though, there were a few of him that had a kind of grainy distortion over them, kind of made him look like he had pointed ears, or shark teeth, or glowing eyes.

“That’s Danny Fenton, and he’s cool but kinda… strange,” Wade pulled up some newspaper articles where Dr.’s Fenton cause havoc in a small town in Iowa, professional ghost hunters whose inventions go awry and destroy buildings; and Danny himself seemed to have a public feud with the Mayor of his town and there was a magazine article about how he discovered that the Amity Park Zoo’s purple-back gorilla was female. “Yeah, he’s a bit all over the place and hard to get a read on. But, he does like space and rocket science. And, Tucker said that Danny's family is the one that makes a lot of high-powered combat jumpsuits. Apparently, Dr.'s Fenton only wear high-powered combat jumpsuits.”

Ron nodded along, then asked, “This is all fascinating Wade, but why are you telling us all this?”

“Well,” Wade rubbed his neck nervously, “When Tucker said he was visiting and going to the convention, I kinda said that I was also planning on going with my friends… My IRL friends. I wanted him to think I was cool, and he knows I have a hard time making offline friends, but I didn’t want him to think I was a loser. So…”

“So you need a living breathing friend to go with! Sure thing, buddy. I’m free- oh, no, wait,” Ron pointed between him and Kim, “we were just talking about going on a nice date this weekend.”

Kim waved her hand dismissively, “It’s fine, we can stop somewhere for dinner after the convention.”

“We?”

Kim nodded and looked at Wade in her locker, “My dad’s a rocket scientist, I bet at least Danny will think I’m cool, and I bet Sam will like having another girl there to talk to.”

“She does tend to get along with everyone,” Ron said, “Except for Bonnie… and Drakken, but they’re both supervillains, so I don’t think that’s a point against her.”

Wade smiled, “Thanks Kim. I’ll send you guys info on the convention and where to meet.”

“Ten-four, Wade, we’ll see you there.” Kim said and closed her locker as Wade logged off.

“You really think this’ll be fun?” Ron asked, “Or are you just being nice for Wade?”

“No, I like hanging out with Wade, and you know,” Kim shrugged awkwardly, “What are the chances of there being a mad scientist bent on world domination at the convention?”

“With our luck? 100%” Ron said, with all seriousness before breaking into chuckles. “Now, school’s out and mission’s not till the weekend, that means it’s Bueno Nacho time!”

#danny phantom #kim possible #fanfic #crossover #dp x kp crossover #this is it #this is all I got #I got nothing else for the crossover #please take this and run where ever you want to with it

[hankwritten]

Death Shall Brag You Who Wander’st In Her Shade

Day 7: DAMNED (Pens & Pencils)

Pauling wakes, coughing up sand.

The desert feels different than before, the dirt under her knees grittier, the wind more malicious. The sky above her is a noxious green—she feels, acutely, she is not wanted here.

“Well too bad,” she tells the place.

The chinook whips harder against her bare arms. She shivers involuntarily, but fuck if she’s going to let some shitty hell-dimension tell her where she can and cannot stick her big, stupid, just-can’t-let-it-go nose. This is her hill to die on, she’s going to fucking die on it.

She walks.

The hissing, malevolent landscape may not be able to stop her, but can sure as hell hide the door. Pauling walks for hours, though the red sun doesn’t move against its neon backdrop. She doesn’t have any incentive to give up though. What’s the worst that can happen to her? Dying?

Still, the endless expanse of Distortion!New Mexico isn’t doing her quest any favors. She grits her teeth. How typical that the Administrator puts her in this position, even unintentionally. Impossible expectations. Blood (her own, a lot of it on the floor of Engie’s workshop) and sweat (her body is real enough that discomfort arises in every way you’d expect it to) and tears-

(so, so many tears on this transcendent, selfish woman.)

-the feeling that there’s something just out of her grasp, even as she keeps clawing tirelessly toward it, watching it slip through her fingers like smoke from a lit cigarette. A hand over the flame. Almost wishing it was strong enough to burn her.

There’s burning at the corner of Pauling’s eye, and she shuts them against it. It’s hot embarrassment that flares the back of her neck when she thinks of her last conversation with the Administrator. Those will not be the last words between them, not if Pauling has anything to say about it.

There is no door still, but the sand under her shoes has grown grainier, and gray, and the world of reality-adjacent desert turns into illogical gravel pits. As she pushes further into the realm, the deep trenches of shale fold in on themselves, though never quite curling overhead, twising into bizarre and nonsensical shapes. She finds Blutarch in the halls of silt and unusable engine fuel.

“You!” he points an accusing finger at her.

He’s not entwined with his machine anymore, though that hardly makes him look better. His chest is heaving, apparently having run from who knows where to who even cares where.

“You,” he repeats. “Tell Helen that her new mercenaries are worthless. Worthless! I want replacements immediately.”

“New mercenaries? What. Who? And more importantly why?”

“To fight my brother!” Blutarch screeches. “He pushed me down here and I am not moving on until I take him with me! But the only thing those new mercenaries care about is squawking and pecking at my liver. Feh.”

“…You mean the vultures out near the entrance?”

He folds his arms. “They were the only ones around to hire.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Mann, but the Administrator will have to get back to you later as she’s in the middle of something very important right now. Namely being dead.”

“That’s never stopped her before.”

Pauling doesn’t like it when Blutarch says something sensible. It puts a bad taste in her gut, like she just drank motor fluid.

“I think you two are up to something,” Blutarch goes on. “Been working this game for too long, I think. That you’re going behind me back and-”

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Mann.”

Pauling doesn’t have time for his ramblings, not when she’s just noticed a door behind him that hadn’t been there before in the shifting architecture. It’s not Her door. But it’s close. Closer.

Blutarch gives her another feh as she passes. Fingers trace against the rivets in the ancient industrial slab, but only for a moment, and she pushes inward on its aching hinges so compassionlessly that they scream.

Compared to the wind outside, this personal hell is almost cozy.

“Oh please, do come in,” someone says sarcastically.

A man sits at a large desk, a gibus hat looming over his brow, eyes glittering dark beneath it. Piled to the sides of the desk are coins: gold, huge, and ancient. No doubt poetically heavy. Not just on the desks, the two columns of gold are stacked behind the man, and they stretch back into the abyss of the endless room. For miles.

“Zepheniah Mann, I presume?” she asks.

“And you must be one of Her creatures.”

Zepheniah takes a handful of coins from one pile. He places it on a scale that dominates the majority of the desk, weighing it against a large bronze key. When they’re equal, he transfers it to the pile on the other side.

The first pile does not seem to have gotten any smaller.

“I work for Helen, yes,” Pauling says.

“Is that what She’s calling Herself these days?” Zepheniah transfers another handful. “Do yourself a favor, girl. Whatever you think you can get out of Her, She’ll play you like every instrument in the band and take you for ten times your worth. There is no winning. There is no getting what you want and nothing more. It’s Her game to play.”

“It’s not like that,” Pauling says.

“What is it you want girl? Money? Praise? Satisfaction?”

She says nothing. There was a time where she wouldn’t have been able to answer that question, the solidity of truth her smoke-in-fingers. But she knows now.

“Fine,” Zepheniah says when he grows bored. “Your choice. The door is that way.”

He points over his shoulder.

She doesn’t thank him as she walks into the black.

Pauling finds Her door. The familiar code in the keypad knows her fingers like a pen knows an inkwell. The door hisses for her again, taking her to the Administrator’s domain with hungry welcome.

This time, the screens surrounding the chair show only the Administrator’s eye: massive, green, and unblinking.

“So soon?” Helen asks.

She appears to have run out of smokes. She’s burning a rolled up magazine page at the end of her cigarette holder, just for something to do.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Not dead? Surprising.”

“Well yes I am dead, technically. But Engie found this other way to use the teleporter- Look. It’s a long story. But I’m here for you, Helen.”

The chair swivels.

She looks unchanged. Not the beautiful young heiress who’d saved them from the island, nor the thing she’d shriveled into when the australium ran out, but as Pauling had last seen her here. As Pauling had known her.

“I came to get you out of here,” Pauling explains. “To go back. We know how to do it without the machine now, to have a real life. But resurrecting your body hasn’t worked, not as long as your soul is here.”

The Administrator waves her faux-cigarette. “To go live a mortal life? Why? So I can pass another twenty years and wind up in this exact same spot?”

“You don’t have to,” Pauling says, exasperated. “You can, I don’t know. Do some good, make up for all the things that landed you here in the first place.”

“Miss Pauling if I were the sort of woman to laugh, I would say ha very dryly and tell you to leave me. As it is, I’ll only do the second half.”

“I’m serious Helen.”

And Pauling is. Dead serious. If she knows one thing, came to one realization at having Helen ripped from her life, it wasn’t her approval she missed. It wasn’t just one singular attribute that she could seek elsewhere. It was the whole of her.

“You did it,” Pauling says, “You got your revenge. But now you can do whatever, years where you get to live after that.”

“I don’t need to live after revenge.”

“But I need you to.”

Fractionally, Helen’s face loses control of its frown. Softening her voice, she says, “Florance. I’m gone. It’s finished. There is nothing I can do out there that would change what’s waiting for me here. Past a certain point, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. People change.”

Helen glances down. “Not I.”

Pauling steps forward. She does something she never did in life, never would have dared, but now she reaches out and takes Helen’s hand. She places it over her heart, her own hands folded over it, and bows her head until her mouth presses against skin.

“Please Helen. For me.”

The eyes, numerous and unlinking, close. The screens go dark.

Helen opens her eyes. “Very well. I suppose it can’t be any worse than this.” She gestures.

“I promise, there’ll be real cigarettes back on Earth,” Pauling half-smiles.

“Miss Pauling,” Helen says, “you should have led with that.”

The smile wins its battle entirely, and Pauling signals Engie to pull them both out.

#dnadvalentines2023 #adminpauling #tf2 fanfiction

[thrythlind]

Urban Fantasy Video Game Concept

Time to ponder another video game concept.

Start with a first person sequence, playable prologue, length, maybe five to ten minutes. traveling through a darkened room of classical Greco-Roman columns and old broken statues and deep deep shadows, trying to avoid being spotted by something that you never get a good look at while also trying to get closer to it. Distorted voices, echoing sounds, no visible hands or legs in the character. When they get to the mark, a reflective surface starts to rise up, showing them an indistinct huddled figure hunched over a firelight.

Then wake up.

Third person perspective, focus on the protagonist waking up from the nightmare.

Most likely a specific character. Even if character generation, have a set surname (Greek probably, even if char gen results in a different presented ethnicity) and a non-binary given name (Alex, Morgan, Riley, Bryce, etc)

If character creation, default is a woman. 18-23 range but unspecified. If voiced, maybe six options, two with typical feminine mannerisms, two with typical masculine mannerisms, two without gender-associated mannerisms. Perhaps three voice actors. If tech available and doesn't sound terrible (we're doing a wishlist here so let's go for it.) then ability to pitch the voices up and down. Alternately, all three voice actors do variations of all six scripts.

Back to story.

Have character move around living space (house/apartment?) some basic interaction tutorial. Looking in the mirror (if character creation is present, this would be wear that happens... with the lead up being a first-person cutscene of person moving to the mirror and then pulling back to third-person after character creation).

Some environmental storytelling implying college life, maybe something subtle to imply that magic is not unknown in the world... or at least that the protag believes in such things. Brouchures for a fortune teller, books on occult history, etc.

Looking in the mirror trying to shaking off nightmare (maybe more confused than scared). Yawning and leaning in to wash face... close up to see eye shift from human pupils to slitted reptilian and then back again. Blink, pull back, hesitantly wash face go about the rest... shift focus to going out the door and grabbing keys and wallet at the door.

Above sequence also 5-10 minutes (+ possible char gen).

Options - if action happens all in one city, then have a "day-in-the-life" sequence showing some key locations like restaurant, shops, clinic, library, etc. Maybe hub would be the college campus.

If there is a tour section, allow it to be skippable for replays into the first encounter. However, this idea is a pretty set storyline so might be low replayability.

First encounter

The protagonist is somewhere in transit, subway station or the like. Public, but a place they travel through frequently. Gets ambushed by unknown assailants. Human, thugs. Start the fight and pause, give player options:

Option 1 - Fight them off, provides combat skills. Option 2 - Run, provides movement/traversal options. Option 3 - Call for help, provides social skills.

Whichever option is chosen produces an appropriate objective on screen and HUD options leading in that direction. (perhaps mild, immersive HUD elements like in Hellblade where her health and power ups are subtly part of her char model)

All three objectives will probably still provide opportunities to try out basic fighting, traversal, and social skills.

Fighting Option - traversal for tactical advantage, social with police or witnesses after the fight Running Option - social to get someone to open a gate for you, fighting to shove loan thug that appears ahead of you Social Option - running to get to other people, small fight with one loan thug, followed by getting help from onlookers.

Possibly the player can complete any of the three objectives... But the game won't signpost those objectives (like you'll only have an exact count on enemies if you go for fighting option) and the skills you get will make the chosen objective the easiest.

Regardless of how the encounter goes. After basic tutorial of fighting/traversal/social mechanics, have a supernatural event happen. Perhaps a monster attacks. Reactions of any witnesses will determine if this is a world where magic is known but rare or if the protag is just into weird fringe stuff.

At end, the protag's eyes switch to snake-ish eyes again, but don't change back this time.

Cue Act 1 - Trying to learn what's happening to the protag and dodging attacks. Eventually come to the conclusion that the protagonist has inherited a curse and the thugs are part of a cult or secret society that is trying to track down and capture people with said curse. Perhaps from seeking out and talking to experts or tracking down the cult headquarters and either sneaking in to get lore or else beating the head of the local group and getting info from him.

Once again, signposted objectives are based on actions taken or dialogue choices, but other objectives can be completed but aren't made obvious and choices made will add skills to make the signposted objectives easier.

Skills are gained both when completing objectives and when choices signpost an objective.

IE in first encounter, if you choose to look for help, you'll get social skills, but if you get out of the encounter by running, you'll gain a traversal skill. The signposting making it easier to find objectives tied to the choice means that you're less likely to mix and match like this within one objective but is possible.

Supernatural skills come slow and come with changes. In the first supernatural skill in each track it is going to be related to vision and provide a HUD element, perhaps ability to read enemy health (which might also cause hostiles to stand out from neutrals and friendlies) or adding context to dialogue choices or highlighting parts of terrain that can be grabbed for traversal.

Supernatural skills come when encountering supernatural threats.

same pattern though, one skill gained when you choose how you plan to deal with the encounter, one skill gained when you actually complete the encounter. Major encounters only.

Minor encounters can provide skill advance over time but not in a single event. Connect this to achievements. Optional, not particularly connected to either supernatural or mundane. More number boosts or cosmetics (or love interests)

Doing a bunch of traversal stuff to get collectibles will get you traversal bonuses on each collection completion.

Doing social stuff will get you some bonus if you play them through.

Doing combat stuff will also get you bonuses when you hit certain optional milestones.

Traversal stuff could be urban exploration, collectible acquisition, rescuing people from fires or other emergencies, etc.

Combat can be random ambushes from the cult, saving people from muggers, random appearances of monsters, etc.

Social stuff can be romance options, matchmaking (if you don't want romance yourself), a mix (if you want polyamory), normal friend stuff like board game nights, negotiating job stuff, starting a business, dealing with college professors, etc.

Makes for six total skill chains:

Mundane Combat

Mundane Traversal

Mundane Social

Supernatural Combat

Supernatural Traversal

Supernatural Social

Each supernatural skill comes with a physical transformation. In act 1 this is mild.

Supernatural Skill tree is invisible, you see the skills you have, but not what's coming up. Replay and wiki of course would get around this quickly, but build into the feeling of not knowing what's going on with your changes. Also, allows for a mix of plot-relevant skill-gains and leap-frogging the "tree" when narratively convenient.

Maybe about a 3 to 1 ratio, maybe 5 to 1. many Mundane skills vs a few story-important supernatural events.

End Act 1 with character sitting down at night after this revelation and going to bed.

Act 2

prologue, another dream sequence, first person again, hands and feet are visible, Grecian woman, aristocrat, chained to a wall overlooking a rough sea. There's something vast and dangerous in the water, maybe occasional flashes of scales and coils. storm clouds make it hard to see. Play through trying to unchain themselves from the wall. Flashes of smaller figures in the clouds and spray flying around the big monster. Again, no clear image. Player gets free and starts trying to walk down a path. Sudden sound of crashing and what looks to be a massive wall of stone crushing down at them when something rushes by and pulls them up into the sky... last view of fluttering white wings and dream end.

cue the bulk of Act 2, tracking down the cause of the curse.

more encounters with the cult, perhaps more subtle threats, people in high social status. Analyzing why the cult wants people with this curse. What their plans are, getting names, etc. Near the end of Act 2, a supernatural skill will result in the protagonist's hair becoming snakes. Have this essential to final objective (whether the character completes the final "boss" fight via a traversal obstacle course, a social dialogue-tree puzzle, or a traditional boss fight).

Give suggestion that the cult is working for Stheno or Euryale.

Act 3

Act 3 begins with another dream. The player's sitting in front of a fire with partially scaly hands and hearing sounds of motion in the darkness around them. On the initial sound, stand up with a nervous sound and scanning the darkness. Distorted greek dialogue, can't be understood (actual speech but distorted) Keeping the fire between the character and the sound, flickering shadows and light against columns and statues. Then a final sound and turn to see a young Greek man becoming visible as they take a helmet off. They're looking into a reflective shield and have a strange carved blade (the Harpe)... dream ends

Act 3 is the character trying to track down and get to the gorgons that are apparently behind the cult. In the mean time, continue the minor side plots for the minor bonuses.

Tracking down Euryale and/or Stheno and working their way into their home/lair. Reveal... they're NOT behind the cult... and the cult used the protagonist to get through some of the gorgon-only security measures. Last encounter. Again, options are social, traversal, or combat to resolve Act 3. Difficulty in figuring out how to make each of the three equally exciting and make sense... alternately, act 3 could involve all 3 regardless...

End act 3, the cult gains blood from one of the two immortal gorgons (Euryale and Stheno) protagonist escapes. Immortals may or may not escape depending on player choices and level of success.

Revelation... "Your not cursed"

Act 4

Dream sequence, switching perspectives... start as a person with scaled arms and bronze wings, traversal heavy, getting up into a Greek fortress or castle... switch to a young man with a harpe fighting many warriors... switch to a young woman giving a speech to people outside the fortress and rallying support.

Dream ends mid conflict.

The protagonist now has to deal with being a descendant of Medusa, Perseus, and Andromeda.

Also now trying to figure out who is really behind the cult and why they want gorgon blood.

Also, meet cool great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-(many more greats)-aunts Euryale and Stheno.

end act boss is Polydectus who is now an animated statue after Medusa petrified him in the ancient past but he somehow is back to being able to act. Polydectus was given animation by the real main villain... Polydectus is basically a vain, arrogant, petty serial killer. Very smart, certainly a capable lieutenant, but not a true mastermind.

Act 5 prologue should confirm that Perseus/Medusa/Andromeda were a polycule/throuple. Deals with final mastermind... many options:

Athena or Poseidon

Other Greek God

Human seeking immortality

Witch Hunter seeking to create an anti-supernatural plague

???

Overall, I think each Act should be about 1-3 hours for basic story (creating a run time of 5-15 hours... Act 1 and 5 maybe the shortest acts.) With minor subplots maybe can take that to 4-8 hours per act. For a run of 20-40 hours. I know I said low replayability, but possibly having alternative big bads (with alternative minion strategy sets) and alternative side-plot stuff means it might take replays to get 100% completion. Perhaps New Game+ will give more context to the Perseus/Medusa/Anromeda romance.

#video game concepts i have neither the skill nor resources to do #video game #pondering #medusa #perseus #polyamory #andromeda #mythic quest #urban fantasy

[toxic-lavender]

I THINK I FORGOT TO POST THIS??? but have fun with Vanessa in vampire prince au :)

#I made this like. In March or so #queen Vanessa #tw queen vanessa #ahit vampire prince au #she’s kinda feral too #the world around her distorts as you get closer so it looks more like in-game her #if you want more info I’ll be glad to answer via asks :) #ahit #a hat in time

[bumbleklee]

labor and delivery

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | pregnancy series

pairings: diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli x female!reader (separate)

warnings: pregnancy, labor/birth, 5.2k words

a/n: congratulations, you’re a mother <3

diluc

Instead of feeling anxious about your due date being days away, you felt at peace. And it felt like the world was at peace, too. The sun illuminated your kitchen, warm beams of light caressing your body. You could hear birds chirping outside and the stray cat you fed was sitting on a barrel next to the window.

You contemplated going outside to bask in the breeze but opted to stay inside. Despite your pleasant mood, you couldn’t help but feel like something was going to happen today. Your mind pondered the possibilities, skipping over the most obvious one.

Diluc was still asleep when you climbed out of bed. Some of the Knights kept him at the tavern extra late so you decided to let him rest.

You stood in front of the counter of your kitchen and reached up to pull a mug off a shelf. You had been drinking tea for the majority of your pregnancy and you couldn’t wait until you could finally have a mug of coffee again. You hummed to yourself as you filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove.

A sudden, abrupt feeling hit your body like a ton of bricks. The feeling made your body jerk and a gasp left your lips, your hand instinctively covering your baby bump. Your other hand swept across the counter and knocked the ceramic mug onto the ground, leaving the porcelain to break into a million pieces.

Your midwife had described that leading up to the birth of the twins, you might feel braxton hicks. But something inside of you was telling you that this wasn’t just braxton hicks.

And your fears were correct when you felt something warm and wet running down your legs.

You screamed for your husband, panic rising up your throat. The comforting morning you had was thrown out the window as another contraction hit your body. “This can’t be happening,” You said to yourself. You were afraid to move, afraid to do anything, so all you could is yell for Diluc and pray that he heard you.

When Diluc finally heard you calling his name, he shot out of bed. He didn’t even bother to put proper clothes or shoes on, running down the stairs in his pajama set.

“Hey, hey,” Diluc said, shock and confusion written all over his face. “What’s going on?”

“The babies,” You breathed out, “I think they’re coming.”

You watched as the color drained from Diluc’s face. You weren’t supposed to have the twins for another few days. Nothing was set up and Diluc had even given his staff the weekend off. “Oh my god. Oh my god. What should we do? What should I do?”

Another contraction hit before you could answer, sending Diluc into another fit of hysteria. “You need to go into town and get my midwife,” You shakily said, “Like, now.”

“And leave you alone? Oh god, what if you give birth right here?”

You stepped closer to Diluc and pulled on his arms, guiding his hands to your baby bump. “I need you to focus. We can’t have both of us freaking out, okay?” Your husband nodded. “Everything is going to be fine but you need to get my midwife.”

Diluc nodded his head again, more firmly this time. His shaky hands led you to the couch where he knew you would be safe. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and bolted out the door, leaving you alone.

At the sound of the front door closing, you couldn’t stop the tears welling in your eyes. You knew Diluc would be back with your midwife and everything would be fine, like you said moments before, but you couldn’t stop the sheer terror that was creeping through your bones. Were you ready to be a mother? Could you give your babies the life they deserve? Too many questions flooded your mind and for the first time in months, you cried.

They return home within an hour and by then your tears have dried up. You were trying to focus on your breathing instead.

Diluc rushed to you, grateful that you were where he left you. “Is everything okay?” He asked quietly upon seeing your puffy eyes and red cheeks.

You forced a smile onto your lips and nodded, “Everything’s okay.”

“Where are we having this baby?” Your midwife said, interrupting the moment between you and Diluc. He stood up straight and motioned to the stairs.

“The bedroom,” He told her. Your midwife headed upstairs, pulling a rolling chest behind her, and Diluc helped you stand up. His fingers squeezed your hips, “Ready to have a baby?”

You threw your head over your shoulder, “Two babies, ‘Luc.”

For a moment, Diluc’s calm demeanor vanished and you swore you could see a spark of panic in his eyes. But your husband instead just smiled sweetly and helped you walk up the stairs.

Labor was not what you expected. You assumed that when your water broke, you would have your babies moments after but as you laid in the middle of your bed, you realized that wasn’t the case here. Contractions still hit your body every now and then but you were able to rest and even distract yourself from them.

“I’m bored,” You complained to Diluc, nuzzling closer to his warm body beside you.

“Do you want to play a card game?” Diluc asked. When you looked up to give him a deadpanned look, he put his hands up in defense. “What about a book?”

“Are you trying to make me even more bored?”

You wished you were able to leave the bed but as instructed by your midwife, you were on bed rest until the twins were born. Your midwife entered the bedroom again to check you and only gave you a sympathetic smile, “Four centimeters. We’ve got to get you up to ten.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow.

Your midwife left the room again and you sat up (as much as you could). You turned your body awkwardly so you could face Diluc, “Who do you think is going to come first?”

Diluc thought for a moment, “I think Clara will.”

You nodded in agreement, “One of the twins is super active and the other isn’t. I bet it’s Clara. She’s going to be fiery just like you.”

Around midnight your midwife checked you once more. Finally, you were almost ten centimeters dilated. Diluc moved off the bed and pulled up a chair next to it, instantly taking your hand in his. There was another twenty minutes before you felt a contraction that wracked your body. Your hand squeezed Diluc’s so hard he let out a yelp.

Your midwife sprung into action. She was at the foot of the bed in seconds, ready to guide you through the process. “Legs up, good, now just focus on me, okay? When you feel this next contraction, you’re going to push.”

Your chest was rapidly rising and falling and Diluc rubbed your thumb with his. And just like your midwife said, when the next contraction hit your body, you pushed.

The pain that ripped through your body was unlike anything you had felt before. It clouded your vision and you thought you couldn’t breathe. “You’re doing great,” Your midwife assured you, “Once the head is out, the baby will slide out like butter.”

Out of curiosity, Diluc poked his head around the corner of the bed.

And what a horrible decision that was.

“Oh my god,” Diluc mumbled, his face turning pale again. The grip around your hand became loose until his hand fully let go of yours. You heard a thump on the wooden floors and your mouth dropped.

Your midwife stared at your unconscious husband for a moment. “He can wait,” She decided, turning back to you. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain and you gripped the bedsheet beside you. “I see a head,” She smiled. “Ready again?”

You nodded your head before taking in a deep breath and pushing again. But there was no going back now and within moments of that push, you heard the little cries of a newborn baby. You wanted to stop and admire your baby but a gasp made you remember you weren’t done.

“What’s going on?” Diluc said groggily, finally standing off the floor. He was rubbing his head and froze when he saw the mess on the bed.

“Don’t pass out again,” Your midwife said sternly, “You have a daughter to clean up.”

Daughter. Clara was born first like you and Diluc said. Your vision was blurry from tears, the sight of Diluc and Clara distorted.

“Almost there,” Your midwife told you. After a few more minutes of strenuous pushing, relief flooded the lower half of your body. “And there he is.”

You tried to sit up but you were too weak. Two sets of cries could be heard and right now, that was music to your ears. Your son was placed on your chest and soon followed by your daughter. Your arms folded around them. Your midwife smiled as she cleaned up as much as she could before leaving the room to give you and Diluc some privacy.

“You did it,” Diluc said. He was in awe and couldn’t believe this was real life. The babies had tufts of red hair like himself but their nose was yours. Diluc wished he could photograph the sight in front of him. This was the start of your family.

kaeya

When Kaeya woke up in the early hours of the morning, he didn’t understand why at first. The night was peaceful and the bed was more than comfortable. His eyes ghosted to the side to see you still fast asleep. The blanket was pulled up beneath your chin and silent breaths left your mouth. It was only when Kaeya shifted did he realize why he woke up.

The sheets were soaking wet, especially from your side of the bed.

Kaeya’s hands gently shook you awake and you groaned, slowly opening your eyes. “Love, I think you had an accident.”

It took you a moment to register Kaeya’s face in the dark. “What are you talking about?” You asked before feeling the wet sheets yourself. An embarrassed fluster crept onto your cheeks but before you could say anything, a pain crashed down on your body.

“What’s going on?” Kaeya asked, immediately alert to your sudden movement.

“I think my water broke,” You said quietly, rubbing your stomach to try and soothe the ache that was growing. “Kaeya, it’s starting to hurt.”

“What is?” He was on his feet now, running to the other side of the bed to help you sit up. “Is it the baby?”

“I don’t know,” You answered, “I think so. It hurts here.” You motioned to the area underneath your baby bump and frowned. Kaeya helped you get out of bed and change clothes.

“Can you walk?” You nodded. There were spouts of pain with periods of calmness and you were ready to take advantage of those. You and Kaeya weren’t sure what to do. Fortunately, you had set up the guest bedroom a week ago. Unfortunately, your midwife was out of town this week.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen until next week,” You said, your voice shaking, “I don’t want to have the baby yet.”

Kaeya chuckled, “That’s not an option.”

Still dazed from your sleep, Kaeya led you to the guest bedroom and you sat on the edge of the bed. Your husband stripped the sheets off the other bed while you rested. Slowly, the fact you were going to have a baby that day was creeping into your mind. You were ready, you knew you were, but the thought was still scary. And your midwife wasn’t around.

Kaeya came back to the bedroom and rubbed your back comfortingly. You were still sitting on the edge of the bed, stiff as a board, eyes squeezing shut and your body tensing when a contraction hit.

“Can you do it yourself?”

His words made you look up in shock. Your husband couldn’t be suggesting you give birth without a guide, right? But when Kaeya looked back at you with a serious look, you felt your stomach drop.

“Look,” Kaeya took your hand in his, “Your midwife is out of town this week and I don’t know anyone else in Mondstadt who knows how to deliver a baby. You read books on childbirth, you’ll know what to do.”

You sucked in a deep breath. He was right - you did read a lot about labor and delivery. It would be hard without anyone there to help you but if your baby was coming, your baby was coming. Kaeya continued to rub your back as you contemplated your decision.

“I’ll do it,” You said, “But I need Jean.”

“What?”

“She’s my best friend. If I can’t have my midwife, then I want Jean.”

Kaeya knew it was useless to argue with you and the quicker he got Jean, the quicker you could get on with the process of labor.

“Alright, alright,” He said, defeated, “But don’t move.”

You promised him and Kaeya left to retrieve Jean. Alone in the house, you wandered the halls. Surprisingly, stretching your legs helped the pain slightly. You stopped outside of the door to your daughter’s nursery. There was a ‘C’ on the door and when you pushed the door open, you were met with a pastel pink wonderland.

There were photos of The Knights of Favonius on the walls and gifts from them littered the room. There was a stuffed rabbit from Amber and handmade clothes from Lisa. Even Diluc had gifted your baby a set of wooden blocks.

Your hand rubbed your baby bump gently, “Soon,” You said aloud. “Soon we’ll meet each other.”

The door to your house opened quickly and inside rushed Jean and Kaeya. Your husband frowned at the sight of you in the nursery and put his hands on his hips, “You promised me you wouldn’t leave the guest room.”

You only shrugged your shoulders and smiled.

Jean looked disheveled. She was wearing her pajamas and her hair was down from her usual ponytail. But she wore a look of determination on her face and you knew you needed her by your side throughout everything.

Once you were back in bed, your labor progressed quickly. The time between your contractions was becoming shorter and shorter and it was hard to catch your breath. Sharp pains were rocketing down your spine and bubbling in your abdomen and you didn’t know how you were going to survive this.

“Just breathe,” Jean said. She didn’t know anything about childbirth but when Kaeya came banging on her door in a panic, she knew you needed her.

Since you were in charge of your own delivery, you had to check yourself often. It was becoming increasingly harder to do but you knew it was important. “I'm seven centimeters,” You told your company. When they looked at you with a blank expression, you said, “It’s going to happen soon.”

Kaeya whispered affirmations in your ear, trying to distract you from the pain as you waited around. Jean brought you a cold washcloth and placed it on your forehead. You sighed in relief and leaned back against the mountain of pillows. While Jean looked at the various things scattered around the room, Kaeya leaned closer to your face.

“You’re a warrior,” He told you, his forehead almost touching yours. “We’re almost there. Just think about holding little Calla.”

You groaned as another contraction hit your body. “It just hurts so much.”

“I know, I know,” Kaeya pressed a kiss to your nose. You closed your eyes and tried to think about something relaxing. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, not with contractions wracking your body every few minutes at least.

For a while, you stayed like that. Jean and Kaeya talked quietly about work in the background, pausing to look at you when a contraction hit, and birds were beginning to chirp from outside. You imagined holding baby Calla in your arms with Kaeya beside you. He would be mesmerized by your daughter and you would be so, so in love. And maybe there would be more children down the road. A nice, big family with Kaeya sounded beautiful.

You were ripped from your daydream when a horrible contraction hit your body. It was unlike the others and your legs went numb. Kaeya was by your side in an instant, noticing the change in your reaction.

A sudden urge to push overwhelmed your body. “I can’t do it,” You cried out, your hands trying to find something to grasp onto. Tears were streaming down your face and Kaeya’s heart sank. He hated seeing you like this, especially since the cause of your sadness was from your own fears.

But instead of Kaeya speaking up, Jean rested her hands gently on yours. “Look at me,” She said softly. You sniffled and turned to face your friend, “You can do this. You’re ready and you’re strong. The pain is temporary but you’ll have your baby forever.”

You nodded your head furiously and tried to zone into yourself. You repeated what your childbirth books said, waiting to push until you felt a contraction. Jean rushed around the room and Kaeya held your hand despite you crushing it.

“Is that her head?” Kaeya asked quickly, peering over your legs. He grinned and turned back to you, “Almost there! You got this!”

You had to take a pause to take a deep breath. You felt like there was water in your lungs and you wondered how a human body could endure this much pain. When the next contraction hit, you pushed as hard as you could and squeezed down onto Kaeya’s hand.

A rush of relief washed over your body like a tsunami. You were quick to reach down and pick up your baby, mouth agape that you did that all by yourself. The room was filled with silence until it wasn’t, a tiny cry breaking the air.

Jean handed you a fluffy towel and you quickly wrapped Calla in it, wiping her eyes and nose. “Congratulations,” She said softly, “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The words tumbled from your mouth in a whisper.

Kaeya kissed your forehead, “I’m so proud of you.”

childe

“She’s nesting,” Zhongli said matter-of-factly, “Like an animal.”

Truthfully, you were nesting. You wouldn’t call it nesting, of course, but the way you were arranging your birthing room was eerily similar. Your baby was due any day now and you were getting anxious about things being perfect. Your midwife had already come by to set up her things and now it was time to set up your things.

A photo of you and Childe sat on the end table, next to a copy of your latest ultrasound. Three of Childe’s sweaters were thrown over the back of the bed and when Childe asked why you needed three, you couldn’t give him a final answer.

After putting a candle down on the adjacent end table, you proudly rejoined the men in the living room.

“How’s the nest coming, Birdie?” Childe grinned, moving over so you could sit beside him.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “It’s coming along great, thank you very much.”

Childe laughed and wrapped his arm around you. You were content, feeling calm and secure in the moment. You were ready to have your baby and you refused to let it consume you. You were lost in your thoughts when Childe shook you back to reality.

“Are you peeing on me?” He asked, a confused look on his face.

“What?” You exclaimed, looking down. Your pants were soaked from something, darkening them as well as the couch. You felt a sharp pain in your abdomen and your hand raced out to hold your baby bump, “Whoa, he just kicked me hard.”

Childe raised an eyebrow at your weird behavior. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and stood up, looking at the mess you made. “Sorry, I’ll get a towel,” You said. Zhongli paid no mind, trying to understand that you were a heavily pregnant woman, while Childe continued to tease you from down the hall.

You reached for the towel in the bathroom and were met with another pain. You rubbed your belly, “It’s okay, Nikolai.”

Heading back to the living room, you wore a frown on your face. “Is everything okay?” Childe asked, taking the towel from you. His jokes had died off and him and Zhongli were looking at you with concern.

“Um, I don’t think I peed myself,” You said quietly, “I don’t feel good.”

Childe jumped to his feet, “What’s wrong?” His hand came up to caress your cheek as he watched you, trying to see if something was physically wrong. “Are you hurting?”

You managed a nod before another contraction hit your body. You gasped and held onto the bed of the couch for support. “That really hurt.”

Thankfully Zhongli was a man with common sense. “Are you going into labor?” He asked, reaching out to hold onto your arms. “Where does it hurt?”

“Here,” You said, pointing to your stomach.

Zhongli nodded firmly, “I see. Are you expecting a midwife?”

“We are,” Childe answered, running a hand through his hair. “Zhongli, can you stay here while I run and grab her?”

“Certainly.”

Childe turned to look at you and cupped your face again, “Don’t stress, okay? Zhongli is going to be right here if anything happens. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend ran out the front door and you collapsed down onto the couch, breathing hard.

“Can I get you anything?” Zhongli asked, unsure of what to do. “Water?”

“I’m good,” You said, clenching your teeth. “Can you help me get to the bedroom?”

Zhongli nodded and you held onto his arm. You were trying to regulate your breathing but it was coming out in rough, short breaths instead. You stopped in your tracks when the pain came back, flowering itself inside of you. You groaned and leaned forward, Zhongli needed to wrap his arm around you to steady you.

He helped you in the bed and you instantly grabbed one of Childe’s sweatshirts off the bed. You hugged the fabric tightly and inhaled the comforting scent of your boyfriend. Zhongli paced the room, getting more concerned when your pain was only increasing.

But, thankfully, Childe and your midwife returned home quickly. Zhongli wished you the best and took his leave. You were still holding onto Childe’s sweatshirt.

Your midwife checked you and you were only three centimeters dilated. “I think this is going to be a slow process,” She said sympathetically, “Is there anything you want to do in the meantime?”

“Can I take a bath?” You asked, your ears perking up.

She nodded, “Just call for me if needed.”

Childe helped you out of the bed and kissed the top of your head before helping you to the bathroom. He filled the bath and stripped your clothes, helping you into the tub. Childe sat on the toilet, an excited grin on his face.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked, a smile creeping onto your lips too.

“Just thinking about how we’ll have a baby to hold tonight,” He said. “Teucer is going to be so excited when he hears.”

You hummed in response and leaned back, submerging your body fully in the water. Surprisingly, being in the water helped with your pain. You still felt contractions but they weren’t as breathtaking in the bath. You stayed in the bath for what seemed like hours.

Suddenly, something snapped inside of you. “Oh, shit,” You cried out, hunching forward. “Get the midwife, Childe!”

Your boyfriend shot off his feet to grab your midwife while you cried out again. She hurried into the bathroom and bent down to you. “I’m going to check you.” Her face paled slightly after removing her fingers, “You need to give birth now.”

“What?” You nearly screamed, “Right now?”

“The bath must have sped up the process,” Your midwife explained. You looked at Childe and panic coursed through your eyes. You tried to sit up straight, ready to get out of the bath, but your midwife stopped you. “There’s really no time to dry off and move to the bed. You’ll have to give birth here.”

Your eyes widened, “But I’m in the bath!”

“It’s safest this way,” She said. Your midwife instructed Childe to get some things and when he came back, he sat by the edge of the tub and held your hand. “You’ll need to push the next time you feel a contraction.”

A feeling of upset was bubbling in your throat, “But...but everything is in the bedroom.” You thought about the photos and the candle and the sweatshirts and felt tears welling in your eyes. You wanted to have your baby in the bedroom, not here.

Childe kissed your fingertips, catching your attention. “I’m sorry this wasn’t your plan,” He said, “But you need to listen to your midwife. You want to meet Nikolai, right?”

You nodded, a few tears falling loose. “I do,” You said.

“Then let’s have a baby.”

Childe wrapped his hand tightly around yours and interlocked your fingers. He squeezed it comfortingly and didn’t even flinch when your contraction hit and you nearly broke his fingers. You let out a string of curses, mostly towards Childe, and pushed.

“This sucks! This really sucks!” You cried out, wondering how you were going to get through this.

“You can do it!” Childe assured you.

“Almost there,” Your midwife said, “I see the head.”

It took one more contraction for your son to be born. Immediately, he was placed on your chest and you had to shake your head to focus on reality. “Oh my god,” You muttered, turning to look at Childe. He was grinning ear to ear.

Your midwife wrapped the baby in a towel, cleaning his nose and mouth, before handing him to Childe. She helped you get out of the bath and you almost fell over, your legs feeling like jelly. She wrapped a bigger towel around you and as you gazed behind her, all you could see was the beautiful way Childe looked down at your son.

zhongli

“Watch out, pregnant woman coming through!”

Xinqiu and Xiangling held onto your arms as Chongyun cleared a path through the crowd. Like usual, the teenagers were being your honorary protectors while Zhongli was at work. They took you to the Wanmin Restaurant and Xiangling disappeared momentarily to bring out platters of food.

Your midwife told you that it was best for you to stay home, since your due date was at the end of the week, but you thought one last outing with the kids couldn’t hurt.

“You’re getting bigger each time you come around,” Chef Mao called through the opening of the storefront.

You laughed, “Well, I’m almost at term!”

Xiangling piled your plate high with food, “More for the baby.” Frankly, it was nice being pampered by the teenagers like this. They were selfless, especially towards your unborn baby, and everyday they surprised you.

You were shoving a dumpling in your mouth when an odd feeling struck your abdomen and water gushed onto your pants, the seat, and the ground. Based on your facial expression, the kids knew something was wrong.

“What’s happening?” Xinqiu asked.

“I think my water just broke,” You told him, groaning as a harsh pain swept over you.

“Oh, no.”

In that moment, you were reminded that despite their maturity, they were still children. Panic spread throughout the three of them and they began debating what to do with you.

“Let’s bring her to the infirmary!” Xiangling argued.

“Why would we do that? Let’s bring her home!” Xingqiu shot back.

You held back another groan, “Guys, don’t fight about this.”

But they didn’t seem to hear you. Chongyun’s eyes flickered back and forth before running a hand through his hair, “I think you should bring Y/N home and I’ll get Zhongli.”

“We need to go now,” You said. Xiangling and Xingqiu held onto your arms like before and immediately started towards your house. Chongyun took off in the opposite direction. “Fuck, this hurts,” You muttered, stopping to ride out a contraction. “Excuse my language.”

“It’s okay, we know you’re in pain,” Xiangling says.

Finally, the teenagers get you home and you sit down on the couch. You would wait to move to the bedroom when Zhongli came home. You breathed deeply and Xinqiu spoke up, “Look on the bright side, it’s only going to get worse from here. So this can’t be that bad, right?”

Xiangling glared daggers at him, “I thought you were smart.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. The pain you were experiencing was worse than anything you had ever felt in your life but with the kids nearby, the pain was bearable. They would make great siblings to your daughter.

Chongyun and Zhongli burst through the front door, startling you. Your midwife was right behind them. Your head was hanging low and you were clenching your jaw each time a contraction hit. His large hands rested on your back and he rubbed your shoulders, “Thank you, kids. I’ve got it from here.”

“Good luck!” Xiangling beamed before ushering the two boys out the door with her.

Zhongli lifted you up by your shoulders and his heart nearly broke when he saw your face. Your eyes were wet and puffy and your nose was already stuffy. Any calmness you had was gone as pure panic and pain overtook your senses.

“Can you stand?” He asked, wanting to move you to the bedroom. You shook your head and Zhongli managed to pick up your body, carrying you to the bedroom. He helped you change before you climbed into the bed, feeling dazed and scared at the same time.

Your body felt weak and you hadn’t even begun giving birth. Your midwife was talking to you but you couldn’t seem to pay attention.

“I’ll need your help,” She said to Zhongli, “You’ll need to grab her leg and hold it steady.” He nodded and did as told. Your midwife grabbed your other leg and you barely looked up. You could feel the pain and you knew what was going on, but you couldn’t comprehend it. The pain was unbearable but you did what your body was telling you.

A gasp left your mouth and Zhongli said something to you. There was pressure and pain, a lot of pain, and then suddenly it was gone. The last thing you saw before your vision went black was the blurry silhouette of your baby.

When you came to, the room was quiet. Your eyes adjusted to the light and you looked around before stopping on your husband. Zhongli sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom, holding a little bundle in your arms.

“Hey,” You said, your voice hoarse and low. Zhongli looked up and immediately came over to you. Without words, your baby was placed in your arms. “She’s so tiny.”

“I was so worried,” Zhongli said, brushing your hair back to press a kiss to your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Sore and tired and achy.”

Zhongli slid into the bed next to you and wrapped his arms around your frame, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “She has your nose,” He whispered. Despite having a traumatic labor, it was all worth it.

#genshin pregnancy #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #genshin self insert #genshin impact #genshin hcs #genshin writing #might repost is now is a bad time uhhh

[peskygirl13]

MK SO-

I just got the Pokémon SWSH DLCs and I was wondering what it would be like for some legendary Pokémon to come to twst and cause some trouble(Legendarys I’d like to do ( you c an pick just one: Kyogre, Giratina, or Groudon)

If you can i want it to be just Diasomina!

This turned out longer than I expected and I got so mad with myself because I was almost done with writing this and I accidently deleted all my new work, so I had to start over from my last save point which is one of the reasons it took so long to post.

I’ve been binge playing the old Sinnoh games and rewatching the anime, so this was fun to write (despite me deleting my work). 

This will have references to the Pokémon Platinum game, so spoilers if you haven’t played the game and plan to. 

Hope you enjoy!

Malleus's favorite time of the day was night time. Night time was the best!

The world was at peace, it was quiet, everything was asleep, save for a few nocturnal creatures much like himself, he could hide from SIlver and Sebek and have some time to himself, and there were no students or humans who would see him and run away in terror.

But his favorite thing about night time was probably when he got to visit his favorite human, (Y/n).

Their situation was a bit odd, having appeared out of nowhere from a world full of creatures called Pokémon, but Malleus didn't care. They weren't afraid of him. After spending a lifetime of having people fear him due to his name, it was a nice change.

Malleus arrived at the Ramshackle dorm to find you already sitting outside, cleaning your Empoleon's feathers.

"Greetings, Child of Man." He greeted, happily walking up to you.

"Hey, Tsunotaro." You smiled, putting down Empoleon's brush to wave at him.

That was another thing Malleus adored about you. Even after finding out who he was, you still didn't fear him and continued calling him by that amusing nickname you gave him.

You both entered the dorm, along with Empoleon, and he was instantly greeted with the rest of your strange creatures. Luxray, Togekiss, Glaceon, Garchomp, and Lucario.

You headed over to the kitchen to make some tea while he got comfortable on the couch. Once he was seated, Garchomp laid its head on Malleus's lap, implying that it wanted scratches.

By the time you had returned with two mugs of steaming tea, all the other Pokémon had already gotten comfortable and most had fallen asleep.

You handed Malleus his mug before sitting down in your chair. Glaceon hopped up and curled up in your lap before falling back asleep.

After you both got comfortable, you began regaling Malleus with stories of your world.

Malleus loved hearing your stories.

From your gym battle challenges to your contests. Catching all your Pokémon and even receiving an egg from a woman named Cynthia that hatched into a Togepi that which layer evolved into your beloved Togekiss.

Malleus has never left the Valley of Thorns, except for school, so he enjoyed hearing about your travels. Your freedom to journey and see so many different places, never being tied down, he envied it.

“May I see your badges and ribbons again?” He asked.

“Sure.” You agreed, getting up to grab them.

At the movement, Glaceon, rather huffily, got up from your lap and moved to Malleus, curling up on his lap instead. He instantly started stroking her with one hand while the other continued scratching Garchomp. He only stopped when you handed him your badge and ribbon case.

He immediately opened them both and admired your impressive 7 badges and 5 sparkling ribbons. 

You had told him that even though you had collected the required number of ribbons, you were transported to Twisted Wonderland before you could compete in the Grand Festival. You also hadn’t yet had the chance to earn your 8th and final gym badge, which allowed you to challenge the Elite Four and the Sinnoh Champion. 

“They are very impressive, Child of Man.” Malleus complemented.

Even though there wasn’t a gym challenge or contests in Twisted Wonderland, Malleus could tell how much value each badge and ribbon you earned had.

“Thanks, Tsunotaro.” You beamed, positively preening at the complement. “Maybe when I find a way home you could come with me and have your own journey. There are a bunch of dragon type Pokémon I bet you’d like. Maybe your starter could be an Axew. Or a Dino. Maybe a Gible seeing how well you get along with Garchomp. There are also rock or electric types. OOH- Maybe a fairy type!”

Malleus tuned your rambling out. His head was both empty and racing.

Him? Go on a journey in another world? The idea was preposterous! Yet... also tempting.

Traveling around with no chains. Nobody knowing who he was, thus no one quivering at the sight of him. No overbearing, but well meaning, guards to coddle him. He liked this idea!

Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to dwell on the tempting daydream when Ramshakle’s door slammed open with a loud bang.

“WAKA-SAMA!!!”

Speak of the devil.

You and Malleus turned to the doorway to a disheveled and hysterical looking Sebek and a normal sleepy looking Silver.

“Sebek.” Malleus greeted, hiding his annoyance of being interrupted during his time with his Child of Man.

“Waka-sama, you mustn’t leave without telling us! What if something happens to y-”

The half-fae was cut off by and ice beam, freezing him solid. You and Malleus looked over at Glaceon who was angry about having her sleep disturbed for a third time. Now quite irritated and huffy, Glaceon angrily marched upstairs to try and get some sleep in your room.

“My apologies.” You jumped when Lilia appeared behind you without warning, hanging upside down as usual. “They ran off when I wasn’t looking.”

You looked back at the other Diasomnia residence. Silver had already fallen asleep, using Togekiss’s soft, feathery body as a pillow, while Sebek was slowly beginning to thaw out of the ice.

You wish you could say this is the weirdest thing to ever happen with them.

After having Lucario use force-palm and free Sebek, you all sat down near the fire.

(You left Silver be since he was already asleep.)

Sebek wanted to know what was so fascinating about you that Waka-sama would continuously come visit you. 

The only thing you could think of was telling them about your journey.

“After I won my seventh gym badge at Snowpoint, I had to meet my friend, Barry, at Lake Acuity and right after that I had to meet with Professor Rowan and Lucas at Lake Verity.”

“Why did you have to go to those lakes?” Lilia asked, genuinely curious as to what value they had.

“Uh, well-- mmh-- pthbbt.” You tried to think of a way to avoid that question, or at least dance your way around it, and the stuttering and raspberry blowing was obviously helping you be discreet in avoiding the question. 

“GLACE!!”

A loud yell echoed from upstairs thatw as loud enough to wake even Silver. You were momentarily grateful that you had been interrupted before realizing ‘Oh shit that’s my Pokémon.”

“Glaceon!” You yelled, bolting from your chair and rushing up the stairs with your Pokémon and the Diasomnia boys at your heels.

You opened your bedroom door with a loud bang and saw Glaceon in a defensive stance, hissing at the mirror with Grim looking frazzled.

“Fgaah! Minion, control your Pokémon! I was asleep and then it started shouting and tried to attack the mirror!” He yelled angrily, before stalking off to the living room to continue sleeping.

You sighed before looking over at the mirror. You held out your arm towards your Pokémon so they knew not to do anything yet. You inched closer to the mirror, pausing only for a second to pet Glaceon and calm her down a bit. You walked forward a few more steps until you were face-to-face with the mirror. 

Now that you were closer, you could see the shadow of something moving within the glass. You didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t Micky. You leaned a bit closer, trying to make out the figure--

“GIRATINA!!”

Everything went black.

~

The first thing you noticed when you could see again was that you were clearly not in your room. Or your dorm for that matter. 

Everything was weird. You weren’t sure of any other way to describe it other than weird.

Weird and familiar.

“The Reverse World.” You muttered, shocked by your sudden return to the feared Giratina’s playground. 

You didn’t have long to stay dumbfounded when you remembered the Legendary who lived in this world. You frantically looked around you and saw that your team and the boys were with you, which did nothing to curb your panic. Grim wasn’t with you all, so you assumed hoped that he was still at Ramshackle.

You first woke up your Pokémon. They freaked out for a second before realizing where they were, putting them all on guard. They carefully scanned their surroundings for anything they found threatening while you quickly crawled over to the boys, traying to shake them awake. 

“Get up. Guys, get up! We need to move!”

The Diasomnia boys hardly registered what was happening and where they were before you pulled them away. Your team created a barrier around you all as you lead the boys through the strange new world. All they could do was look around wildly.

“Careful, gravity gets weird here.” You warned them. 

True to your words, the piece of land you all were walking on started to curve in the air until you all started walking upside down. Even Lilia, who was used to hanging upside down, was a bit thrown off about this.

“What is this place?” Silver asked what everyone was thinking, knowing that you were the only one who could give any of them an answer.

“The Distortion World.” You explained. “Also known as the Reverse World. It’s kind of like the Underworld of my world.”

That explanation only provided them with more questions but went they entered a place that had these large bubbles floating around them they were quickly distracted.

“Hey,” Silver called, gaining everyone’s attention. “This thing has headmaster Crowley in it.”

Said bubble did have a picture of Crowley in his office, working late into the night. Huh. Who know he actually did anything.

Silver raised a hand towards the bubble. 

“No, don’t touch it!” You exclaimed. Unfortunately it was a second to late and the bubble popped at the slightest graze of Silver’s fingers.

The boys looked over to you at the sound of you yell, seeing your panicked expression.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You order, stressing out each word. “Everything in this world effects the real world. If you aren’t careful you could kill someone through this place.

The boys looked positively alarmed.

“Will the headmaster be alright?”

You waved off their concern, continuing to lead the way. “He’ll be fine. Popping that bubble didn’t kill him, but it did feel like he was hit with a bowling ball.

“How do you know this? How do you know so much about this place, (Y/n).” Lilia asked, dead serious. 

You glance over your shoulder at them before sighing.

Guess it was time to come clean.

“There are some things that happened during my journey that I didn’t tell you guys about.” You confessed.

“While journeying through Sinnoh, I constantly ran into an organization called Team Galactic. Their leader, Cyrus, believed that the world was ugly and needed to be destroyed. His plan was to capture the legendary Pokémon, Palkia and Dialga, and the Lake Guardians, Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf. Those three were the reason I met Barry and Professor Rowan at the lakes, Lilia, to try and save the Lake Guardians from Team Galactic. Anyway, Cyrus claimed that he was going to create his own, perfect world using the powers of the legendary Pokémon. At least I think that was his plan. He talks like Shakespeare and I have a middle school education. Anyway, before he could create his ‘perfect world’ Giratina appeared and took Cyrus away to here, the Distortion World. This is Giratina’s domain.”

The boys were stunned into silence. They knew you were strong, but for you to have done all that as well as fighting overblots? They were truly impressed.

“What happened afterwards?” Malleus questioned, enthralled by your story.

“Cynthia, the current Sinnoh Champion, and I entered the Distortion World to save Cyrus. Unfortunately, he saw this place as his ideal world and didn’t want to leave. In the end, we had to use force and I beat him in a battle. And, after that, I had to face Giratina itself. But, I don’t know how, but before I could face it, the Dark Mirror called me to Twisted Wonderland.”

You stopped walking, taking a deep breath before turning to face the boys. 

“We need to find Giratina. Giratina’s the only Pokémon that can travel between worlds and its the only thing that can get us back to Night Raven.”

Your tone alone was enough to my the Diasomnia boys understand the severity of the situation.

“Human, if this creature is as powerful as you claim, then how do you expect to get it?” Sebek interrogated. 

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a purple ball with an ‘M’ on it, showing it the the boys.

“This is a master ball. I stole it from Cyrus’s base when I went to save the Lake Guardians. It can catch any Pokémon without fail. All we need to do is find Giratina.”

“Lucar!” 

“Luxray!”

You all turned to Lucario and Luxray who were growling in the same direction. Looking closely, you could see something coming at you all. Your team took their battle stances and sure enough, there was the Angel of Darkness itself, Giratina. 

Even Malleus had to admit, that creature was terrifying. 

It looked like a dragon and centipede mixed together, but it towered over everything, easily dwarfing them all.

You waisted no time.

“Empoleon, Hydro Cannon!” You ordered. Even Sebek had to admit that your authoritative tone was hard to ignore and resist, full of confidence and superiority. 

Empoleon listened without question, fearlessly attacking the towering giant.

“Lucario, Aura Sphere! Glaceon, Ice Beam! Luxray, Thunder! Garchomp, Dragon Rush!”

All your Pokémon attacked at once, hitting Giratina square on. The legendary screeched before firing a move of its own that your team narrowly avoided.

“Great job. Keep attacking!” You ordered shooing the boys out of Giratina’s firing range.

“What do we need to do to help, (Y/n)?” Malleus asked. He was already gripping his pen, ready to fight.

“Nothing. Just stay put and don’t move.” You ordered sternly. The boys were stunned.

“What?! (Y/n) we can help-” 

“I know you can help,” You cut off. “But I don’t need to defeat Giratina. I just need to distract it.”

You ran off before they could question what you meant, whistling for your Pokémon.

“Togekiss!” You called, jumping off the edge of the land and easily getting caught by your flying type, who flew you behind Giratina. 

You let your team get in one last group attack before throwing the master ball at Giratina. 

The legendary effortlessly went in and after a spectacular dive made by you and Togekiss, you caught the ball and returned to the boys.

The boys ran over to you as you climbed off Togekiss, looking at the ball in your hand.

“I can’t believe you actually caught it, human!” Sebek exclaimed, flabbergasted. 

“Thanks, Sebek.”

“So what now?” Silver asked. The group all turned to you expectedly and you rolled your eyes before turning around to the wide open space and releasing Giratina from the master ball. 

“Giratina,” You called, “Please take us back.”

Giratina stared down at you before letting out an echoing screech and lowing its head to your level.

Immediately understanding what it wanted you to do, you crawled onto its head before waving the boys over.

“C’mon. We its going to take us back.”

Hesitantly, the boys climbed on with your Pokémon and once everyone was on, Giratina soared through the air.

This was different from riding a broom or riding Togekiss, who was happily flying beside you all, but it was exhilarating at the same time.

Too soon for anyone’s tastes, Giratina slowed down to a stop before lowering itself down so that everyone could climb off. 

The place were Giratina dropped you all off was a small patch of land with two lakes on it. You and the boys could see your bedroom in one of the lakes, making you realize that you were looking through your bedroom mirror.

“Alright!” You cheered. “Let’s get back.” But before you could step through the reflection, Empoleon called out to you.

“Empoleon!”

“Huh? What is it, Empoleon?”

He was looking in the other lake, pointing at something. 

You, your team, and the boys looked through the refection and you couldn’t restrain the gasp that left your mouth.

You could see the Mesprit, the guardian of Lake Verity.

“That’s Mesprit, Lake Verity’s guardian!” You exclaimed, coming to several realizations at once. “That’s close to Twinleaf Town. I-I could go home!”

You turned to your team and the Diasomnia boys, your eyes sparking with both joy and a few unshed tears. “With Giratina we can go home and still stay in Twisted Wonderland!”

Mallues watched you with soft eyes. He had seen a side if you tonight that he had never seen before. Your courage, your confidence, your skill. He had these too, but yours stemmed from experience. This wasn’t something you were taught since you were born like him, these were abilities you learned through trial and error with your team. Something that he wanted.

With a new found determination, Malleus turned to his most trusted knights and friends.

“Lilia, Silver, Sebek,” He began, quickly gaining everyone's attention, “I have decided that until it is time for me to receive the crown from my grandmother, I want to travel (Y/n)’s world with a Pokémon of my own.”

Even you weren’t expecting that announcement.

“WHAT?! WAKA-SAMA ARE YOU FEELING WELL?!?!? WE MUST GET YOU TO AN INFIMERORY!!”

“I’m fine, Sebek. And I’m not joking.”

“WHAAAAAAAT?!?! YOU, HUMAN, YOU HAVE GIVEN WAKA-SAMA THIS DANGEROUS IDEA!!”

“I think its a great idea.”

“MASTER LILIA?!?!”

“zzzzz”

You couldn’t help snorting at the scene in front of you. A rather calm Malleus simply being unmovable about his choice of coming home with you, a hysterical Sebek trying to talk him out of it, an impish looking Lilia who actually supported Malleus’s idea, and a snoozing silver, who could still sleep effortlessly despite the chaos surrounding him.

You leaned up against Empoleon’s belly, him and all your other Pokémon already lying down, knowing that this was going to take a while. Even Giratina was curled up!

But, You thought, watching the group was a soft smile, you know that no matter how much you wanted to go home, you would've missed this. And this, your friends and NRC, was something that you never wanted to lose.

Bonus:

After sorting everything out with Crowley, you returned to your world to reconcile with your friends and your mom. It took some explaining, but bringing Grim back with you as well as Malleus with his magic and horns was enough to convince everyone what happened to you.

Afterwards, you were able to compete in the Grand Festival. You didn’t end up winning, however you did make it to the finals. Your opponent, Dawn, had only beaten you by a few points.

The Diasomnia gang, as well as Grim, the Adeuce combo, and the Pomefiore Trio were all present to see this and couldn’t have been prouder.

Once the Grand Festival had come to a close, you headed over to Sunnyshore City and won your 8th and final Gym Badge, permitting you to challenge the Elite Four and Cynthia.

The Pomefiore Trio didn’t watch these challenges, but the other did. 

Their nerves were through the roof when you finally faced Cynthia. And when your Garchomp miraculously out sped her Garchomp with the finishing move nobody cheered louder. 

In the end, you took Malleus to the place where you caught Garchomp back when he was still a Gible and caught Malleus his own, whom he unironically named ‘Gargoyle.’ 

Malleus did have to return to the Valley of Thorns, but not without you promising that the upcoming summer would be the start of his own Pokémon Journey. 

I wrote most of this forgetting about Grim, so sorry he doesn’t have a bigger role or more screen time.

Fun story; I got in trouble for writing down my ideas for this at work even though I did it while the store was dead and I’ve worked there for nearly two years and have either written something or drawn something almost every shift I have. Litterally no one but the manager to caught me cares. 

And, just to irritate me more (whether she was aware of it or not), said manager takes my writings and decides to read them and then proceeds to put them back in the wrong order before lecturing me.

So, yeah, that was fun.

#ask #twst x pokemon au #pokemon #twisted wonderland au #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x pokemon #diasomnia #diasomnia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #silver #pokemon platinum #pokemon sinnoh

[blossomingimagines]

Salvation

Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,134

Summary:

Notes: I hope you enjoy this. (For @yukinechan021)

The ground beneath your feet was crumbling. Giving way due to your manic pace as you flew through the underbrush. Your hands barely have enough time to raise up to protect yourself. The small twinges of pain that appeared because of the brambles and low-hanging branches barely making an impact on you. You had only one goal in mind. Only one purpose as you took another sharp turn around a bend. 

Run.

You could still hear the screams from your village. Hear the distorted voices in the distance calling out for help. Hear the horrid sound being interjected with the ravenous howls of hungry beasts. 

The smell of blood and decay reaching you before the first animal ever did. Your father taking hold of you and shoving you towards the wood. His gaze desperate as he said his last words to you. “Go, Y/N. Run like you’ve never run before. They’re here now. Mother Miranda isn’t going to protect us any longer.”

You had hesitated. You didn't want to leave your father but he hadn’t let you. His gentle nudges becoming incessant shoves towards the foliage. “You need to run, iepuraș. Don’t look back no matter what you hear. Just keep running.”

With his words, you had done just as he told you. Trying to not let the screaming or the howls stop you. Trying to not let the fear shining in his eyes stop you. You didn’t want to think about what it meant for your father when the beasts finally did reach him. 

Skidding to a stop, your chest heaves as you take in your surroundings. You knew that you had to begin moving soon. It was only a matter of time before the beasts caught your scent. You had only a small window of opportunity before you’d be captured too. 

The sight of rustic stone work causes you to blanche. Fear shooting through your body as the knowledge of where you were came rushing to you. Castle Dimitrescu; the one place you had always been warned to never venture near. The tales of bloodshed and twisted horrors doing little to persuade you to try. Its foreboding presence is always looming over your village for as long as you’ve been alive. You never thought you would ever see it up close.

The intricate stonework winding up towards grand towers in the sky. Its color is a rich black in the setting light of day. You could tell that the castle was old, even barring the tales you had heard about it, from the weathered quality to its structure. Even though it was no doubt still taken care of. Standing the test of time despite everything. 

A chilling feeling works its way up your spine. Causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. Your body stiffening as a cold cackle reverberates through the air. A sharp breath catching in your throat at the faint shifting of metal against the ground. 

“Well, well, well.” The gruff voice purrs. “What do we have here? I don’t believe my dear sister let you out of your cage. So you must be a village girl.”

Flinching away from the strong grip suddenly on your face, your head is unceremoniously jerked towards the speaker. To a man with dark glasses and a cruel smirk on his face. Amusement clearly dancing through the expression. A twisted sense of glee lighting up his face even more when he saw your fear. “It’s a pity the doggies didn’t get to you too.” He pauses before a broad smile pulls his lips up. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with you. Oh, Mother Miranda is going to love you.”

Your brow furrows. “Mother Miranda?”

At your words a bark-like laugh falls from his lips. “Yes, child, Mother Miranda. I do hope she’ll let me have you. You’d make the most interesting tool in my games. I’m certain we’d have a blast. Well,” His head tilts to the side. “I know I would.”

Trying to jerk your head away from his hold, you couldn’t stop the pleas from leaving your mouth. “I don’t have anything worth giving you. No money to my name or family that would be willing to pay it. I have nothing of value that you’d want to take.”

“Oh that’s not true child. You shouldn’t sell yourself so short.” His hand loosens ever-so-slightly but it does little to abate your nerves. Especially as his other hand shifts his hammer. 

“I don’t have anything. Please.”

He grins. “While I do love to hear a beautiful maiden such as yourself beg, I must decline. As you do have something very special you can give me.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. Fear began to run through your body as the man grew closer. “What?”

His face once again twists into a dark sense of amusement. “Your life.”

You didn’t see his other hand move. Didn’t hear or feel anything except for the sharp crack of pain against your skull. Your world is immediately consumed by darkness.

Only the sound of his maniacal laughter following you. 

-----

The rough stone scraping along your back is what roused you next. Your eyes blearily blinking open as you’re unceremoniously left against the hard ground. The basic stone ceiling being all that kept your attention for the moment. You could tell already, without even having to move too much, that you were restrained. The heavy presence of metal feeling like a sentence. 

To what? You weren’t sure. 

“Why did you bring her here, Heisenberg? She’s of no use to me.”

The female voice that spoke was familiar to you. You couldn’t quite grasp from where but you knew that you had heard it before. Lifting your head off the ground, you’re finally met with the sight of your captors. 

A sight that quickly causes a chill to run down your spine. 

Your original captor, Heisenberg, was lounged against a couch. A calm nonchalance surrounding him as a gleeful smile took over his features. His cruel intent still being as palpable even from the distance you were now at. 

A hunched over figure standing just behind him. A crown of bones situated atop its head as heavy breathing reached your ears. The grotesque form causes your stomach to churn at the very sight. You had to turn your head away from it. 

The other was in the form of a doll. Your body flinched away ever-so-slightly as it drew nearer. Its lifeless staring at you with something akin to interest before it scampers away. The clear barking order for it to do so coming from the woman who had spoken. 

A woman that was standing in the middle of them all. Her black dress and veil obscuring the majority of her features from you. Though you could still feel the tangible power that radiated off of her body. The command she clearly held over the people in the room. 

Mother Miranda-- through and through. No one but her held that type of power. The pull that she had on people. 

It was a spell that was only broken by the arrival of the fifth person. 

A heavy, yet graceful, gait announcing their presence before they even appeared. The faint clicking of heels against the stone floor telling you where they were. That they were growing closer and closer towards you by the second. Your body is already tensing at what monstrosity you would be subjected to at their arrival. 

Nothing would have ever prepared you for what you saw. 

A woman stops just within your field of vision. Glowing golden eyes taking in the room with a vague sense of interest. Painted red lips pulled into a small smirk as she finally settled her gaze on you. Raven black locks standing out against her pallid skin. Her clear beauty stands out even through the darkness. But that wasn’t what caused your breath to catch. 

It wasn’t the way an exotic tinge of danger exuded from her.

It wasn’t because of the way she gracefully moved through the room. Her white dress shifted against her form with every minute movement. 

It wasn’t even because of the way the dress looked on her body. 

No. It all had to do with her height. She stood taller than any person you had ever seen; man or woman. Her imposing height did little to detract from natural elegance that seemed to lace itself within her movements. In fact it only seemed to enhance it. 

Mother Miranda’s voice interrupted your thoughts. Your gaze being torn from her form towards Miranda’s. “You’re late, Alcina. I expect better from you.”

The woman, Alicna, offers an almost apologetic smile towards Mother Miranda. Her colossal from resting easily against the backrest of the couch. Her ankles crossing in the manner that only seemed to come from habit. 

“I apologize, Mother Miranda. I got caught up with affairs at the castle.” She dips her head towards the black-cloaked woman. “It won’t happen again.”

Miranda sneers. “Make sure it doesn’t.” Pausing for a brief moment, Mother Miranda seemed to observe the room. Clear contemplation taking up most of her concentration-- until her gaze once again landed on you. “Now it’s time to figure out what we’re going to do with our little friend.”

Almost immediately Alcina and Heisenberg speak up. 

“I found her. It should be I that gets to keep her.” No. Anything but that. 

“I would have the most use of her. She does look quite appetizing.” I don’t think I want to know what that means. 

At Alcina’s words, Heisenberg scoffs. “I’ll have the most use of her, dear sister. You’ll just hide her away in the private rooms of your castle. In the dark. Playing games with her that would end like it started; boringly.” He turns towards Mother Miranda. “Let me have her. I know exactly what I wish to do.”

“And you’ll just toy with her for only a few moments before she’s crushed by one of your contraptions. There’s no finesse to what you do, dear brother.” Her golden gaze flickers towards you for a moment. An almost contemplative look flashing across her beautiful features. “I’ll make sure I have something spectacular planned for her.”

Mother Miranda speaks before they can argue any further. And by the tone of slight agitation in her voice you can tell that this was a common occurrence. Your body shifted away from her ire even as you were restrained, almost painfully, from moving any further. 

“Enough. Alcina you will get the girl.” At Heisenberg’s whine, she snaps at him. “There will not be any more complaints regarding this issue. You’re dismissed.”

The next time you blinked she was gone. 

Your head is already plopping down against the ground. Despite the harsh greeting it got in response. You couldn't believe that this was your life now. You had just been sold to a woman, while undeniably attractive, that would sooner rip out your spine then let you walk free. 

At least it wasn’t Heisenberg. 

The thought only brings you a modicum of comfort. 

The sudden looming shadow around doing quick work to wipe out what was left. Your eyes trailing up well muscled legs, across a white-clad torso, an elegant neck, to finally reach her amused gaze. Even if her amusement was tinged with a darker entity that you truly didn’t want to think about. 

“Well, darling, it looks like you’re all mine,” she purrs as she leans towards you. Her hand coming up to brush against your cheek. Whether it be a way for her to maintain control or for her to know what you felt like; you hadn’t the slightest idea. “Aren’t you going to say anything to me? I did just save you from my brother.”

You still weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

Raising your gaze to meet hers, you clench your jaw. Trying to prepare a biting retort to her clear teasing. Hoping that you’d be able to get even with her in some small way. If you were going to die you were going to die your way. 

However, the moment you opened your mouth, another two words appeared. “You’re beautiful.”

The moment that words slipped from your lips, you could feel your face heat up. Your body automatically tensing at the knowledge of you had just said to her. Fortunately she seemed to be just as floored as you. Shock clearly showing itself across her elegant features before an almost feral smile takes its place. Her arms wrapping around to hoist you in the air. 

But, before she did, she whispered one last thing towards you.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, pet.”

#lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimistrescu x reader #lady dimistrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil viii #resident evil village #resident evil imagine #salvation

[ingo-appreciation]

Giradoption au thoughts but it’s emmet’s side of things

-some brief context on things that have been happening with Ingo to properly set up soemthing

-currently post-game Volo and Ingo are traveling around together to help Ingo recover his memories and understand giratina’s blessing, while Volo is happy to be able to explore hisui and Not Be Banned from places

-by some event I haven’t thought out completely yet, Volo accidentally ends up in jubilife at the same time as his past self

-everything ends up okay and ingo gets a little more giratina features, but essentially space-time got a little fucked up there because that wasn’t supposed to happen

-now back to emmet

-one day while he and ingo were on their shift, ingo went into a tunnel and just vanished

-there was an investigation but no one could find anything

-hell Emmet even ask a friend from Sinnoh to come over and see if there was any legendary involvement or any legendary he could ask to help get ingo back

-one day while emmet and Cynthia are hashing out ideas, emmet goes back to the place where ingo disappeared. Except this time, there’s someone there

-“this area is off limits. Please return to the main station”

-and the person just looks at him and she says “something happened here”

-“yes that is why it’s closed”

-“the fabric of space-time was torn here”

-and emmet just stops because that’s the first time anyone has been able to explain exactly what happened at this spot

-now emmet and ingo aren’t as knowledgeable as hex maniacs or anything, but considering ingo has had chandelure as his ace for a Long time and emmet sometimes uses her for his battles, the twins DO know a little bit about ghosts

-and sure enough, when he gets a closer look, the lady is a ghost.

-she says her name has been lost, so either she makes up a temporary name or emmet makes up a name for her (I haven’t decided, I’ve just been calling her Void)

-void joins the investigation team because she says she’s interesting it knowing more about the space-time tear. Emmet finds it a little odd but hey! Connections are connections and void doesn’t seem malicious

-void tends to pop in and out of sight and varies on how corporeal she is, but the longer she spends time around emmet, the more she seems to get a handle on how to control her form

-eventually, Cynthia has to go back to sinnoh, and probably by some combo of legendary power and void’s own mysterious ghost powers, a rift is opened back up to get emmet and void to hisui

-surprisingly, the people of hisui don’t immediately think emmet is a zoroark. I mean they’d already had one person who looked EXACTLY like Volo prove he wasn’t a zoroark so maybe this is related somehow

-they take him to jubilife to show ingo his weird doppelgänger and ghost pokemon

-sure enough! There ingo is! Emmet is BEYOND ecstatic to have finally found his brother!

-except ingo looks different. And he doesn’t seem to fully remember emmet

-emmet tries to explain everything and even explains how Void helped him find ingo, bht the second Void makes eye contact and tries to come close, ingo like. Visibly Bristles

-he looks nonhuman as large shadowy thorns appear behind him. And he says “I don’t know who you are but I think you should leave”

-Void disappears and emmet is like “what the fuck, ingo, she helped me find you!” And ingo doesn’t even entirely know why he did it, but he got a Very Bad feeling from her

-ingo asks Volo and even he doesn’t know the answer, it’s only when ingo asks someone who’s been in the distortion world for a very long time that he gets why he panicked

-when giratina rebelled against Arceus, she had a trainer that helped her. And when giratina was defeated, her trainer was erased from time and space and then giratina was banished to the distortion world

-so for her trainer to be here, even as a ghost, something is very very VERY wrong

#submas #subway bosses #ingo #emmet #nobori #kudari #giradoption au #listen the twins being friends with Cynthia was originally something specific for a friends au #but honestly I like it now so it’s just universal #anyways I really like void and she’s kind of the big bad of this au #and also! emmet in hisui! yay! #he’s gonna work on getting ingo’s memory back :>

[headcanonstation]

Phantom Thieves S/O has palace

Ren Amamiya

Breaks his heart to find you have a Palace

Ren figures it out because of how you may have been acting. That or curiously getting to him to put your name in the nav

Apologies in advance, he isn’t gonna be reaching out too often as he’ll be putting way too much focus into preparing to infiltrate 

During this time there will be no Mementos trips 

If he can help it, there won’t be a day they aren’t going in until your Palace is taken down

Though for him personally, he doesn’t care how tired he may be. He is gonna go in

Odds are its getting dealt with in about a day or really close to that

It does kind of scare him on the why you have a Palace

What gets to him is he feels like he should have seen the signs. Feels like that maybe he could have prevented it or at least curb the development of it

Exploring the place is the actual worst to him he isn’t having a very good time

Ren will be kind of more quiet while in the Palace. Looking more focused

But he may be a little more “impatient” as it were

Ren really, really does not like running into your shadow

Has fingers crossed they don’t have to fight your shadow, but if they do he is gonna hate it

Gonna act as more of a support unit if they do have to fight said shadow

Regardless if you know he is a phantom thief or not, he is gonna write the calling card. And he is gonna drop it off to you. {In your mailbox, locker, under your door. Etc. He isn't going to directly hand it to you, again regardless if you know of him being a phantom thief}

Ryuji Sakamoto

The thought never occurs to him, almost believing it be absolutely impossible for you to have one

He is not gonna be the one to put your name in, regardless if he notices you being off your A-game. Someone else is gonna be doing it

Ryuji can’t help but wonder why you have one. Again, he found it be impossible for you to ever have one. So he is pretty curious as to why it happened

Whatever the reason is for the development of the Palace, he swears he is gonna knock it out of the park

He definitely gets impatient during infiltrations and downtimes

Kind of becomes pretty prone to getting into trouble and pushing forward which results in his friends going “oi slow down”

Also becomes a little more impatient 

Unlike Ren, Ryuji becomes more talkative during the exploration. Asking things like if they are closer, if Mona can sense the treasure, where exactly they are, what is the next course of action- you get me

He seems to have an “easier” time powering through any exhaustion he is having and practically demands to be on the frontlines at all times

Makes sure all his hits, hits harder

He has a huge need to know what your treasure is, further adding to his impatience

Will write the calling card, with help from Makoto

If you know he is a phantom thief {yeah,,,,,,"if"}, he hand delivers the card to you

If they have to fight your shadow, Ryuji does okay. He doesn't do the absolute best and his attacks may actually miss a lot

Ann Takamaki

She immediately has a need to know if anyone is connected to you having a Palace

She just wants to talk

Ann is a lot like Ryuji where she did not enter your name in the Nav, not wanting to see an answer at all pop up. The only difference is she knew it could be a possibility. It was not impossible to her if you had one- just unlikely 

Ann can’t help but think about the what if of the thieves finding you in Mementos. Able to stop you there and prevent a Palace from developing further

She just finds herself thinking how she could have helped prevent this, if at all. Playing scenarios in her head of helping you before it got this bad

But this is no time to wonder, this is the time to help you

Inside the Palace, she doesn’t act far too differently. Outside of it though, she becomes kind of pushy to go into the Palace

When it comes to you, she finds herself trying to spend time with you- more than usual

She doesn't like the Mementos trips during the time where you still have a Palace. While it's nice to help other people- you need her help right now

No matter what your Shadow is like, she swears she is gonna take them down

She promises to herself that no matter how much it hurts her, she isn't going to hold back on your shadow. After all, it's not exactly easy to attack something that resembles/represents you

Really would rather not see the calling card at all

Yusuke Kitagawa

His first thoughts are the fears that its alike to Madarame’s

He isn’t sure he can handle that

As such, he is pretty nervous about the whole thing

Upon finding out though its nothing like that, if anything more like Futaba’s, brings him a wave of relief

If he were to be honest, being in your Palace frustrates him

Not only does it frustrate him, but it hurts him. Especially as they go further and further into their exploration

You don’t deserve to have to be dealing with this and the burden this thing probably brings to you

Kind of like Ryuji, he just thought nothing like this would come to pass for you. At least, so as long as he was there with you

During the Palace, he is more reserved

A lot like Ann, he is kind of pushy with going into the Palace. Not nearly as much as Ann, but it’d be a lie to say he doesn’t at all try to push Ren into going in sooner

Seeing your Shadow actually angers him, more than anything. Because this isn’t you, but a distorted version of the person he cares about

But Yusuke remains relatively calm

During downtimes while they aren’t in the Palace, he will be trying to seek you out and keep you company- regardless if you know what is going on

Insists to be the one to write the calling card, there are no exceptions 

I would argue he is one of the more aggressive thieves when it comes to fighting your shadow. He holds absolutely nothing back and is ready to fight

This isn’t you and he wants to get rid of your shadow as fast as possible

Makoto Niijima

She audibly gasps

However, she can’t bring herself to bring it up for a short bit. Its not that she doesn’t want to, but it becomes more real whenever it is she mentions it

She ends up bringing it up after seeing you again and again. Knowing the toll a Palace can take on a person, she knows she can’t just ignore it

Part of her wonders if she is any part of the cause. She hopes not, but it worries her that what if she plays a part in your Palace

She tries to remain composed both in and out of the Palace, trying not to show any signs of struggling with the idea of it

When around you, she gets kind of awkward 

She’ll promise to you that she will be there for you, through thick and thin. Which to you may come out of nowhere, but Makoto feels a need to say it

Its when Makoto sees your shadow that it really, really hits her about the situation

Still, she tries to remain composed but internally she is just having a marathon if emotions

Makoto helps in creating the calling card and will hand it off to you should you know of her being a phantom thief

If not she will put it in a normal envelope and give it to you, saying simply it was addressed to you and not much else

Maybe even sneak it into a book your reading or in your locker

Fighting your shadow at first will have her be a deer in the headlights, but her friends will snap her out of it

Which will help her find new strength when it comes to taking down your shadow

Futaba Sakura

Curiosity kills the cat, and it killed Futaba upon entering your name in the nav

She figured if anything popped up, it would be just be a Mementos trip. Not something as extreme as a Palace

Her first thought was how long have you had this?

Futaba first brings it up to Ren before anyone else

She knows this is more of a personal Palace to take care of, but they have to help you

She had one of these things and she’ll be damned if she lets this go ignored

Futaba admittedly would rather it just be her and Ren, again seeing as this is more personal. However, this is a little more extreme than a simple field trip to Mementos, so that isn’t a viable option

Her nature ends up very serious, focused and a little hurt. She won't have snarky comments to hand out. She won’t really have any upbeat cheer in her voice either

Futaba is going to be going overdrive to help the thieves get rid of the Palace faster

Will be more subtle in pushing the idea of going into the Palace during downtimes. She isn’t going to be aggressive in it, more so just making it clear she would really like to get back in asap

She wishes she could do more while they are exploring the place

During time outside the Palace she will be in constant contact with you. Asking if your okay, if anything happened, if you need to talk, etc

Seeing your shadow will kind of have her wince, but outside of that it only fuels her further to steal your treasure

She doesn’t do anything when it comes to the calling card. She just demands to see it before it sent to you

Haru Okumura

She’s ready to go guns blazing just say the word

Haru would probably be the most worried when it came to the whole Palace infiltration

After all, last time they did this with someone she cared about they kinda died

So yeah she is a little on edge on the that “what if” even though she knows it wasn’t their fault

Regardless of her unease though, she’ll put her best face forward and try to remain optimistic 

There may be times during the Palace where she lets her emotions get to her

At first she was worried of what your Palace was and why it even existed. You weren’t a bad person,  so why in the world do you have one of these?

Honestly, overall you could be forgiven thinking she wasn’t too anxious about the whole thing. Because on the outside she doesn’t seem too bothered, but trust me she is having a time internally

She vows to herself they are going to take care of this for you and she is not going to let anything bad happen to you from this infiltration. She swears it

Seeing your shadow doesn’t seem to do anything to her, if anything it prompts her to try and further figure out the why question

Haru requests if she can give you the card, especially if you know she is a thief. Regardless, she promises things will work out

She is merciless when it comes to fighting your shadow? Way more than what anyone was expecting from her?

#persona 5 #ann takamaki x reader #ann takamaki #ren amamiya #ren amamiya x reader #akira kusuru #akira kusuru x reader #makoto niijima #makoto niijima x reader #ryuji sakamoto #ryuji sakamoto x reader #yusuke kitagawa #yusuke kitagawa x reader #futaba sakura #futaba sakura x reader #haru okumura x reader #haru okumura #persona 5 x reader #headcanons #persona 5 headcanon #conductor galaxy

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (March 31/2021) - George Lore

George sleeps.

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VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Quackity

George

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

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TW: Derealization

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- George talks to his conscience, as voiced by Quackity.

Georgre Lore Part 2

- George has been thinking about the past. He’s had things happening that no one knows about, and he wants to talk about it.

- Quackity turns back into George’s conscience. George introduces his conscience to Lore Man (voiced by Wilbur). Lore Man tells George’s conscience that George beat him on the field of battle. He cannot sheathe his sword until George has been defeated.

- Lore Man asks if George ended up winning the vice presidency. George tells the conscience that he was supposed to be running for president.

- He was taking a stroll when Lore Man jumped out at George, but George was prepared and beat him fair and square. George, though he won, was terribly wounded, and he had to rest. The sword has an enchantment on it to make people sleep.

- George experienced an unexplainable lapse of time. He woke up and everything was gone, everyone was mad at him. There was a scar on his arm, dried blood, and he was confused. 

- George harvests the day’s harvest.

- George asks why he’s doing all this work, putting in his blood, sweat and tears for people who care not. He goes to explore a nearby ravine.

Georgre Lore Part 3 George’s SEcret marrieg 

how did he become divorce

It’s Possibleer

- They visit Fundy’s Pet War arena: the ancient battle ground, Lore Man’s “scuffle pad.” Ranboo arrives and asks if there is a scuffle going on here.

- Lore Man gives George a scuffle rock and tells him to meet in the middle of the scuffle pad. They will do ten paces. 

- They take ten paces and scuffle. George begs Lore Man to spare him. Lore Man says farewell and leaves with George’s lore and also his dignity.

Georgre Lore Part 4

why georg not h ave lore

THe trip to Lmanb

- George visits the crater that is L’manburg. He could have had an excellent presidency. George’s conscience tells him to think about all the terrible memories this place holds. He leads George to the bomb room and tells George to think of a life where he owned L’manburg.

- They visit the shrine where Friend is. The thunder booms, and a voice from the sky calls out to George: Mexican Dream himself. He has a story to tell. If George had become vice president, Mexican Dream would never have existed. He owes George his existence, and wants to repay him.

- MD tells George that the issue is, he wants to repay George but he’s dead. He tells George that this is all a figment of his imagination. He’s dreaming, getting information through his sleep. MD is reaching out to George through his conscience.

- Lore Man comes back to ask when MD is giving George sloppy.

Lore Man: “What’s left of you, Georgenotfound? You are a husk of what you were.”

Georgre Lore Part 5

geirge visits his Old home

- George visits his house (now a catmaid cafe). He goes inside and finds Badboyhalo crouching in a hole in the floor

- Lore Man breaks through the window and tells George that he should be happy he isn’t asleep, because every sleep brings him closer to his demise, and he will make sure George sleeps through everything ever again. George asks if Lore Man gave him a sleeping curse. 

- Lore Man tells George to make the most of his cat house, because soon he will be sleeping in it forever. Outside, George finds a massive bed by his home. His conscience tells him that he must go to sleep within his dream.

- Lore Man tells him he has a revelation to reveal to George before he goes to sleep...he knows who George’s parents are, canonically, and also his surname:

Lore.

George Lore.

Georgre Lore Part 5 6

GEORGE SEES A NEW GUY

- George’s conscience tells him that though this is not real, it is a manifestation of something George feels guilty about.

- George sees a little kid crying at the edge of the lake. It’s Quackity. He’s crying because today, he lost the elections because George slept in.

- A new character appears. It is Lore Woman! She presents a cornflower to George. Lore Man hands Lore Woman a scuffle rock. Ranboo takes off his crown and becomes the Scuffle Man: overseer of the scuffle.

- Quackity shouts that he will fight alongside George. Even though George has disappointed him, he will fight with George to defeat the Lores. 

GEORGERO LORE Part 8

THE FORMER CANDIDATES FIGHT TOGETHER AGAINST LOREMAN AND LOREWOMAN

- The two pairs stand at the scuffle grounds. George speaks to Badboyhalo, the floor goblin, for words of wisdom.

- Lore Man and Lore Woman are standing on bales of hay. Lore Man asks George to remember the wheat he harvested as a young boy.

- Lore Man tells Scuffle Man to begin. Quackity asks George if he has any last words. George places down the cornflower on the battlefield. It is time.

Scuffle Man: “Ten paces SCUFFLE!”

- The scuffle begins. Quackity’s legs are broken. They continue fighting. The Scuffle Man stops the scuffle. Something has gone wrong: Lore Woman has been shot in the head! She rebrands to Lore Lady.

- Quackity tells them that it must end with George and Lore Man in one final scuffle. Lore Man says he wants to use the weapon meant for George: the enchanted sleep sword. George responds that he shall plunge the scuffle rock into Lore Man’s chest.

- Lore Man tells George that they have known each other for many, many years. But he deserves to know the truth: he deserves to know his father.

Lore Man: “I am your father, Georgenotfound.”

- Lore Man and Lore Lady intended to create George to be the king of lore. But here he is, having slept through everything. Lore Man tells George that he wants George to make his first bit of lore. He says to take his sword -- named “Lore” -- and that he has only one canon life left.

- Lore Lady protests, but Lore Man insists that George must make his lore. George must make a widow of Lore Lady.

- Lore Man bows his head. He tells the floor goblin to take good care of his wife, and says to Lore Lady that he wishes for her to marry this man. George tells Lore Man to place his head upon the hay.

Lore Man: “Make me proud, son.”

George: “Farewell, Lore Man.”

- George decapitates his father.

GEORGE LORE.

LAST PART

WAKING UP.

- His conscience wakes George from a bed at Spawn. George discovers he has the Lore sword. George marches down the path into the distance.

- George’s stream starts off with a distorted version of C148′s Minecraft.

- George has no items. He speaks to Niki and Bad. Bad is confused when George mentions the floor goblin. Was it all just a dream?

- George turns around to see Mexican Dream. Mexican Dream tells George the story of how he visited Tommy and Dream killed him. He came back to see Mexican L’manburg. He found a way to come down here.

- George and MD reach the place where Mexican L’manburg used to be. They’re confused. Where is it? 

- Mexican Dream shouts at George -- where is Mexican L’manburg? George insists he thought it was there. Bad says George destroyed it while sleep-mining, or at least someone who looked like George.

- George asks, what if it was Bad? Niki vouches for Bad, she doesn’t think it was him. Mexican Dream is heartbroken. He doesn’t have much time down here. The timer already went off. He doesn’t know how long he has left.

- Bad says the person looked like Quackity, but with different clothes. Mexican Dream doesn’t know who Quackity is. George does, but he doesn’t know where Quackity  lives.

- Mexican Dream sees L’manhole. He’s shocked, but MD doesn’t care. He made Mexican L’manburg because he hated L’manburg. He was going to do it eventually himself anyways.

- They go to Quackity’s old house underneath Karl’s. MD tells them to leave the room while he inspects.

- George wonders why he smells smoke. They run back in to see MD lighting Quackity’s room ablaze. MD tells George to find out where Quackity is, or else. He then disappears.

- Badboyhalo says this might be a good thing, actually. Quackity has been rebelling against the Egg for so long, he had this coming. Niki is upset. She vouched for Bad, and now he’s happy that Quackity’s house is gone?

- They ask if Bad was trying to frame Quackity. Bad says that he can tell Quackity that this is what happens when you double-cross the Egg. 

George: “The Egg has actually messed you up. Can you even hear what you’re saying?!”

- Bad says they’re both coming with him. They’ll take a little trip to see the Egg. George asks why he’s acting like this. Niki whispers to George that maybe this is good, maybe they can find out what’s going on.

- Bad tells George that, anything he could possibly want, the Egg can give it to him. If Quackity asks what happened to his house, they have to lie to him and say that the Egg did it.

- DreamXD joins the game and greets them. They explain what’s going on.

- DreamXD tells George that he heard that yesterday, George made a deal with the devil and lost, so he kills Badboyhalo. The world is at balance now.

- He tells George that the stuff is his now, but George hesitates, wondering if it’s infected. Bad grabs the stuff back before George can take it.

- DreamXD returns to George, telling him that he gave him a chance at full Netherite. George asks for another chance, but DreamXD refuses. When George insists, DreamXD’s voice distorts.

George: “What happened to your voice?”

DreamXD: “You try and abuse my kindness -- I save you?! I save you, I give you full Netherite, you throw it away then you ask me for MORE!”

George: “I thought it was -- I thought it was fine?”

DreamXD: “Oh, it’s so fine, it’s fine -- everything’s fine! It’s all just a game to you, George!”

George: “I don’t know if I like this, DreamXD.”

DreamXD: (normal) “Oh, ok.”

- Niki asks if he’s sure he’s awake right now. George gets annoyed at Enderman sounds everywhere. He asks why DreamXD is acting like this.

- DreamXD says he doesn’t come here very often. George points out that he comes here a lot when George is here. DreamXD explains that George invited him. DreamXD doesn’t want to scare George. It just comes out sometimes.

Dream: “George, it’s me, Dream!”

George: “Dream? ...Dream?”

DreamXD: “Hm...he’s gone.”

- George says he would rather be with Bad and the Egg at this point. DreamXD starts to chase him.

George: “Dream?”

DreamXD: “Who’s Dream?”

- DreamXD laughs and says he’s not going to hurt George.

- George asks what DreamXD wants. DreamXD says he simply wants George’s acceptance. He wants to be George’s friend. 

George: “I can’t even hit you. What’s wrong with you? And now you’re flying.”

DreamXD: “I’m god.”

- George tells DreamXD to prove it by giving him the best armor in the world.

DreamXD: “You really try and abuse me again.”

George: “No, we’re friends, we’re friends! This is what friends do, they give each other gifts.”

DreamXD: “All friends beg each other for stuff?! Apologize!”

- George apologizes. DreamXD forgives him. 

DreamXD: “I mean, at least you don’t try and like, hunt me or something.”

...

George: “Dream. How do we just go back to normal?”

DreamXD: “What do you mean?”

George: “How do we fix this? You’re being --”

DreamXD: “I’m not Dream...I’m not Dream. Sort of. I’m a part of him.”

George: “You look like Dream.”

- DreamXD gives George some diamonds. George asks what to make.

DreamXD: “Whatever your heart desires.”

- George gets a holy spoon. They see Badboyhalo approach. DreamXD shouts at him and scares Bad off.

- They do it again, George aiming to troll Bad. But DreamXD gets a bit morbid. George says he doesn’t think DreamXD should have done that, but DreamXD thought it was a fun prank.

- They go over to Karl’s Harry Potter home and descend into the wedding chapel. DreamXD doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

- George gets frustrated by the Endermen sounds again. DreamXD wants to learn. He doesn’t know when things are too far because he isn’t like George.

- George then teaches DreamXD to apologize to Bad, then suggests they prank Niki. Instead, DreamXD scares her away too.

- They pull a harmless prank on Niki in Church Prime, but Niki didn’t find it very funny.  DreamXD asks if Niki would like to see a magic trick. He makes her “disappear” by killing her. DreamXD brings her back. He says he sent her to Hell and brought her back into the church. 

- Niki tells George good luck with him and then runs away. George says he’s done. 

DreamXD: “Why are you giving up on me?”

George: “You’re scaring me.”

DreamXD: “I don’t wanna--”

George: “I just want to go back and eat my food like I used to, you know, back to the old times, farming my food, all in peace, where I don’t have to worry about you killing people, being weird...”

DreamXD: “But you’re giving up on me!”

George: “It just doesn’t look like you’re making an effort. I don’t know. I’m sorry, but...it looks bad on me, you know?”

DreamXD: “Well...well I’m sorry...”

- DreamXD says George can teach him. He makes a pun about axes. He’s learning!

- DreamXD asks for forgiveness. George asks what’s in it for him.

DreamXD: “I can give you your heart’s desires.”

- He doesn’t know what’s in it for George, but asks for George to just forgive him. George says that he��ll forgive DreamXD and give him a chance only if he gives George Netherite armor and tools.

DreamXD: “We can be powerful together! You can teach me, and I can teach you! I can teach you so many things!”

- George says he’ll be his friend if DreamXD gives the things to him. DreamXD insists on forever. George has to promise.

George agrees. Forever. DreamXD says if he’s lying, he will tear George limb from limb. They will be the best of friends!

- DreamXD gives George the Netherite. DreamXD puts on his Ender Dragon head. They will remember this moment. They take a celebratory picture.

- George posts it on Twitter. (DreamXD doesn’t like Twitter because they cancel him for murder)

- DreamXD says he will see George another time and disappears.

- George goes off on his own, wondering why he keeps hearing Endermen where there aren’t any.

- A sentient anthropmorphic cow version of Quackity visits George in the spider spawner and shows him a dog in the floor named Pluto, then starts talking to George about Yeezys

- George notices the cow is holding a...scuffle rock? Cow Quackity says goodbye and George wakes up in his bed at Spawn again.

He has everything DreamXD gave him.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fic #corpse husband AU #the sorcerer #platonic!dream

[dokifluffs]

Zooms With His Kid | Sugawara, Osamu

Pairings: Pairings: I mean, Y/N is absent in these.... so I guess for once, this section don matter 

Genre: domestic fluff ah ha ha 

Author’s Note: debuting Suga!!! woooo 

Warnings: post time skip!! 

Zooms with their Kid | Ennoshita, Akaashi // Zooms with their Kid | Sachiro, Kuroo // Zooms with their Kid | Kenma, Bokuto

*S/N = Son’s Name, D/N = Daughter’s Name* 

Sugawara: 

He’s an elementary school teacher 

“Alright class, today you guys will be learning how to add and subtract double and triple digits. Alright, I’m going to first give you guys a few examples of both and we’ll work through a few together for you guys to get a clear understanding, alright?”

“Yes~” multiple distorted voices of children sounded through their display screens on his computer as he worked in his study which was really one of the spare bedrooms used for storage on the ground level of the house

He shared his screen, using a pen tablet that wrote out what he wanted on the screen, slowly going through the steps on how to add to double digits first with his second grade class

He made sure to ask a bunch more questions to make sure everyone had a clear understanding since everything was online

And because of this, this was a bigger hurdle than he anticipated and everyone around the world was dealing with this situation

It was a challenge since not all his students were able to have a computer or the internet connection to allow them to stay in school and follow class

But all his lessons were always recorded and uploaded, sent to the students of the parents who were unable to attend class

And if that didn’t work, he made sure to type out clear instructions to be mailed to their homes

He glanced every now and then, wearing comfy sweatpants and a decent looking sweater on top for the illusion of professionalism

“So, now that I’ve gone through a few problems, let’s see you guys do one. What’s the answer to this?” He asked his class

After a moment of silence, a little boy raised his hand with the feature, answering the problem as others wrote down the answer/ solved it on their own

Suga almost jumped out of his seat as he complimented his student, feeling the slightest pull at the end of his sweatpants

But as fast as his heart jumped out of his chest, a wave of relief washed over him

“What are you doing in here, my little princess?” He scooped his little girl as she looked up to him with her bright brown eyes, babbling at him, tapping his foot with her little fist

He turned back seeing the door ajar, connecting the dots that his little girl had come in on her own

“Everyone, I would like you all to meet D/N,” he bounced her in his lap as he pointed to his screen to the many small displays of his students as they all physically leaned forward

His heart felt so full now that his class was able to finally meet his daughter after being able to only show them a few pictures

“All right, back to it,” he instructed as his littegirl sat on his thigh, entranced by his fingers as he wiggled them before her, her tiny hands latching on and wrapping around a single finger of his

Osamu: 

“Onigiri Miya will be the first ad to be seen every other commercial break during the Jackals-Adler’s match. With this deal, you’ll also have your own stand in the dome with a clear view of the game.”

Osamu sat comfortably in his bedroom on his bed as promoters partnered with the dome, where the legendary game of the grown monster generation would be duking it out between each other, offered a partnership between Onigiri Miya and then

It would be one the biggest games all volleyball fans would be looking forward to

And this meant even more promotion since he already knew four players of the jackals team- Sakusa, Hinata, bokuto, and his brother the most

The promoters and Osamu continued their conversation about the sponsorship, leading up to the final agreement

“This truly will be one of the greatest matches of the year,” one promoter spoke as the they casually spoke over the zoom call, discussing their own personal opinions on who would win

The door to the bedroom slowly creaked open eerily, yet no one could be seen

Osamu stared at the door, anticipating when he would see your head pop around from the other door or something, yet you never appeared

Instead, in his peripheral, he caught of something even better walk around the corner of the bed

His little girl and boy as they held hands, holding onto each other for balance as they wore matching little bear onesies

Their teary, tired eyes looked up to their dad, the twins with their grayish-brown eyes looking u to their gray eyed father

As soon as they saw him, they walked a bit faster, closer to his edge he sat comfortably on, looking up to him, paws intertwined, reaching their free hand up so they could come onto the bed too

“What do you think of this year’s teams, Osamu-kun?” One promoter asked just as Osamu leaned over the edge, setting his laptop to the side on a pillow that showed the headboard behind him as he plucked up his little bears, sitting each on his thigh

“Sorry, my kids came in but I think the teams this year will be teams no one’s seen before. The monster generation has grown and their hunger is never satiated.”

“Very true…” After seeing Osamu’s kids, the promoters briefly ended the call, heading back to their own families

Glancing down to his babies, they each were leaned on his chest, fast asleep with on their little bear onesies, snuggled close and comfy with no intentions of waking up anytime soon

“How vicious,” he smirked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to their foreheads, their chubby little cheeks reminding him of mocha, he just wanted to bite on them

He adjusted the pillows he leaned against and laid down, readjusting how they laid carefully so they didn’t wake at his side, his arms wrapped around their little bodies, joining them in a late afternoon nap with the gloomy skies as the perfect weather  

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Eight

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: this chapter is long but the end is worth it puppies;)

Warnings: angst, language

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

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MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART EIGHT

Loki never came back home that night. Nor the next morning. It was odd without him in the loft. You ventured to other rooms, which as you’d guessed, were other rooms. You didn’t want to sleep in Loki’s gold bed with silk sheets. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea if he came back home from some sort of battle or whatever he did when he was out. 

You didn’t want him finding his soulmate in his bed and think something was going to go down.

Not yet anyway. 

You cringed at that thought, sitting on the side of the bed you’d borrowed last night. Your feet hung from the edge; the bed was so gigantic you’d practically thrown yourself into it to be able to board the goddamn thing. 

You peaked from the open door, listening for any sound, but the loft was dark and quiet, just as you’d left it the night before. There were no windows in this place, so you went through the hallway and kitchen, flicking on lights in your cotton pajamas you’d taken from Loki’s wardrobe. 

He’d stocked the kitchen with all assortment of human candies. Twizzlers. Starbursts. Lucky Charms. 

Sour Puss? Why did Loki buy eighteen-year-old liquor? 

You made yourself a bowl of Lucky Charms, playing with your cereal, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do for the day. As far as you’d seen, there were no books. No internet. No computer to play games. What the hell did Loki even do in this loft anyway?

A fleeting thought answered you. All of this is temporary. This is not his home and it never will be.

The bare walls, the rooms full of nothingness, no paraphernalia of any kind anywhere. There weren’t any of his clothes in the wardrobe either. Loki just slept here. Barely. 

The bathroom was sparkling, as if no one had ever used it. The loft smelled like a new car, the leather couches gleaming and new.

You weren’t going to stay here long, either. 

Loki was on Earth temporarily, surviving on Lucky Charms and illusions. 

You didn’t know what to make of yourself, and you certainly weren’t about to lie on your bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for the God of Mischief to grace you with his presence. No. 

After breakfast, you dressed in black trousers and t-shirt, and a pair of boots that would sustain a lot of walking. You tied your hair in a low braid.

You took one large breath before grabbing the front door and yanking. If Loki had locked you in, you’d kill him.

But the door swung open, breaking open the cap on the noise. Chatter, clanking, beeping, smoke came crashing to your senses as you opened up the door to the lab sitting just on the other side. The unbearable heat washed over you as you stepped out, your eyes taking in the ragged, sprung up lab life vibrating before you. 

Curiously, you ventured deeper, keeping close to the wall, making sure no one really paid attention to you. Everyone there seemed really, really into their job, anyway. As if they were in a trance. 

Mind control, you thought shyly. Loki had used his staff, you were sure. Upon closer inspection, heart beating in your chest, inching closer to a woman overly invested in a piece of glass, you saw it. The blurred gaze. Irises as blue and nebulous as the tip of Loki’s staff. Broken, chapped lips. Skin ashy and sickened, as if she hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days. Or slept. The sunken, black skin beneath her eyes told you this lab worked 24/7. 

Gulping, you whirled, trying to find the exit. People milled by you, paying you no mind. As if you were just another one of them. 

This was making you sick, the moral of it all reaching a valuable place inside you. The fact that Loki has stuffed these peoples’ heads with - what? - and turned them into living, breathing robots made you want to yell. At him, mostly.

Just then you spotted a sign over a door. Exit. Well, at least Loki cared about fire safety. You walked to it, determined, and all but burst through the doors, the sound of them slamming shut behind you echoing into the hallway, which you walked through with the same harsh pace. 

It was only when you’d burst into the warehouse, the sound disrupting the small bubble of peace, did you finally take a deep, soothing breath. The outside world shimmered before you, just beyond the yawning mouth of the warehouse. You saw a shimmering horizon, hot, blazing cement.

This wasn’t a warehouse, you realized. It was a hangar. A huge, awning hangar with a stolen, SHIELD-issued jet in the far left corner. 

You remembered how you even got here - the tightening of your skin, the feeling of it ripping and rippling as time and space shivered around you. No wonder you didn’t remember the extent of the “warehouse” when you’d landed here, the state of your mind and stomach making you woozy.

“Hey!”

Someone came running to you. It was one of those tall, all-black clad figures. His reflective mask glimmered in the lights of the hangar as he jogged to you, left hand on his hip, where a baton dangled.

“You’re not supposed to leave,” he said, his voice monotone, emotionless. Robotic. Controlled.

Frowning, taking a careful step back, you said, “I’m not allowed to leave?”

“Correct.” Then, more harshly. “Loki’s demands.”

There was a brief, hot red moment where you wanted to batter your fists against this man’s entire being, but then you remembered he didn’t even know he was here. He was being mind controlled. He was just a body, just like the entirety of the lab buzzing behind you. 

“I want to leave,” you said, squaring your shoulders.

“Impossible.”

You set your jaw, looking at this guard from under your brows. “Loki,” you said, unsure if this would work. “Loki, tell this idiot to step out of my way or so help me God I will destroy your precious little lab behind me.” Just to emphasize your words, you put your hand back on the doorknob.

There was a second where you thought the guard would just burst out laughing and bend over, mocking you. But he just stood there, reflective mask showing you your distorted reflection. 

And then his head cocked, his hands flexed. 

You knew Loki was listening, through whatever kind of bond he’d set on these people. 

“Let me go, Loki,” you grit through your teeth. 

The guard shrugged. “I am inclined to watch what you’ll do with this little freedom,” the guard said, Loki’s words in his mouth distorted. “But I am afraid the Avengers are hot on your trail.”

Your fists clenched. “There’s nothing but Lucky Charms in the loft,” you groaned. “What in the hell am I supposed to do?”

The guard chuckled. “Wait for me to come home in a little skirt with dinner?” he suggested sarcastically.

You wanted to hit him, but you knew you’d only be hurting this mind-controlled man and not Loki. 

“Wow, I never took you for a backwards and traditional man,” you gritted.

Another chuckle, but this one felt condescending. “I am only expressing my deepest fantasy, darling.”

“Ew.” Then you inhaled, closing your eyes, mustering the energy to talk to him. “Loki, please, I - “

The guard put his hand up. “I am coming back soon, my darling,” he said, again, his voice distorted by Loki’s words. “I have stocked the living room with books you may enjoy in the meantime.”

And then the guard shuddered, his head dropping momentarily, Loki’s persona stripping itself from the stranger. The guard inhaled sharply, took one long look at you, and then turned on his heel and headed back to his post. 

You were tempted to make a run for it, but where? You had no idea where you were. The shimmering, hot horizon indicated not New York. And it’s not like you knew how to pilot a jet. 

With a bruised ego and a slump to your shoulders, you walked back to the loft, passing through the heated, messed-up lab without a wayward look. And as Loki had promised - through the guard - the living room table was stacked with leather bound books.

You picked one up. Legends and Myths of the Gods; Odin’s Pantheon. You rolled your eyes. Of course, Loki had stocked your book requiem with stories about him. How had you not seen this coming?

You huffed, throwing yourself on the brand new leather couch, opening the book, the spine cracking from time unused. 

The first chapter was all about Odin’s conception, down right to Loki’s adoption from the Frost Giants on Jotunnheim. A brisk, fleeting thought went to young Loki, learning that his father was not really his father, and that his mother, who loved him so, was not the one to bring him into this world. 

You skimmed through the chapters on Thor, because, let’s be honest, all you truly wanted to get to was Loki’s life. 

You read about his trickery, his skill and love for magic, something he’d picked up from the Queen. How Loki loved horses and literature. He loved delicacy, the richness of royalty, women, and - 

You read it over. Yes, Loki loved women. A lump formed in your throat as you skipped along, trying to find mention of any women in Loki’s life. All you found of concrete evidence was the women in his realm had started calling him Silver Tongue.

A blush crept up your cheeks, heating the flesh so bad that you had to slam the book shut.

And Loki stood right behind it, leaning against the wall leisurely. You all but jumped in your seat, knees to your chest, book clattering to the ground. 

He laughed. “Curious about good ol’ Loki’s past?” he asked, sauntering over, throwing himself down next to you. He lounged his left arm over the back of the couch, his dark blue sweater stretching over the expanse of his chest. 

Oh, if only he knew just what past exactly you were looking at. 

He spread his knees, black trousers clean, completely at ease. 

You gulped, pressing your knees further into your chest. He quirked his brow, his question still unanswered. 

“Oh,” you said, stuttering with the next words trying to come out. “I was just, um, reading through your family history.” Silver Tongue, you wanted to say. 

He huffed. “Nothing interesting there,” he hummed. You felt like there was something more to it, but you didn’t want to dig deeper because maybe you’d unveil something you didn’t want to see.

“Where were you?” you asked, deciding that maybe this conversation was going in a direction you rather not go. Yet.

He smiled. “Didn’t want to wait for me with dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “I couldn’t find a skirt,” you mumbled sarcastically.

His brows rose so high on his forehead, you thought they’d fall off his face. “I could provide one, if you wish.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the heat on your cheeks. You unbent your knees, picking the book off the floor and replacing it on the pile. “I don’t like skirts,” you said, not really sure why you were saying this. 

“Why?” he asked, frowning. His left hand, the one draped over the couch, was dangerously close to the back of your head. “You’d look good in them.”

Again, heat rose to your cheeks, a group of butterflies taking flight in your belly. “No, I’m, uh, self-conscious.”

He leaned closer, frowning, the smell of him invading your senses in a rush. His knee bumped yours and your eyes fell there, where there was only the fabric of both your pants separating your skin. 

“Why?” he said, his voice low. 

You gulped. “I’ve never liked... my legs,” you admitted with a nonchalant shrug, still looking at his stupid left knee. 

There was a silence, a long silence, and you still stared at his knee as if his knee would start telling that your legs were nice.

Instead, his left hand landed on your thigh, not gripping, not groping, just lightly touching. When you looked up at him, his eyes bore into yours with a sincerity you’d never seen before. 

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m sure you’re just as beautiful from the waist down.”

It was a weak attempt at making you feel better, but at least he tried. And even if it almost made you laugh, the idea that Loki thought you were beautiful made something tug deep in your belly. 

His hand shifted, fingers grazing exposed skin at your neck, tracing lines on your flesh. Raising goosebumps. Humming to himself. 

“You have such wonderful skin,” he murmured. You looked down at his lips molding the words. His fingers inched to your jaw, tracing up to the corner of your eye, bringing fire up with him. “Such beautiful eyes.” His words were like a melody to you, your body buzzing, reacting as much to his words as his touch.

His finger slid down to your lips, tracing the bottom one with his thumb, and you involuntarily turned to him. His eyes dropped down to your mouth quickly, returning to your gaze with a new, flickering flame. “Such a charming mouth,” he said, his voice roach, low, almost a whisper. 

You swallowed hard and Loki watched your throat bob. 

He inclined his head, his forehead grazing yours. You wanted to reach up, grasp the strands of his hair, but your fists were glue at your sides. 

He smirked, huffing. “I’ve wanted a soulmate for so long,” he admitted in a low voice. He licked his lips. Inching closer to you on the couch. “I want to do so many things to you,” he whispered.

You felt the heat creep up your face and you looked down, Loki’s thumb pushing against your lips, and he chuckled softly. 

“If you want to kiss something, I’m right here,” he said mockingly, and you smiled, pushing his hand away. He laughed softly, replacing his hand on the back of the couch.

He gave you a second to regain the normal temperature of your skin before chuckling to himself. “If you were in Asgard,” he said, his voice faraway. “People would bow to you. They’d call you Princess. You’d have a title and land. A crown. They’d call you My Lady when you are being stubborn.” 

You tried not to imagine it, really, you did. You tried not to imagine what a life could be like with Loki, on splendid and gold Asgard, living out your mortal days with a God. You really tried not to imagine it all because then it meant leaving Bruce behind, and leaving him in New York had not been easy, but leaving your brother forever? The thought was unimaginable. 

A lump rose in your throat when you said, “Tell me more.” You leaned into the couch, bringing your knees to your chest, chin on your kneecaps. 

Loki smiled brightly, his fingers lightly playing with your hair, and told what your life would be like if you were immortal, if you were Asgardian, if you were not truly and wholly you.

tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor 

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #imagine loki #loki imagine #loki oneshot #soulmate au #lokixyn #lokixyou #lokixreader #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x reader #angst #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by  tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

-

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

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