#**from a vulture. i just realized i repeated hunter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clovers-n-claws · 2 years ago

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Reunion

So I realized about halfway through writing for kinktober that the buildup was way too fucking long so I made it into a little introductory story for the character I'm using for week 2!

lovestruck!Fairy x Fem!Reader (sfw!)

warnings/general summary: memory loss, minor scrapes and bruises, Eden is a tad obsessed, whatever applies to 'being stalked by a vulture/fairy's guard dog/father figure', childhood friends to lovers, mention of repeated night terrors

Ever since you were young, your parents, relatives, friends’ parents, hell, even neighbors told you to stay out of those woods. That there were dangerous things lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to steal away pretty things such as yourself. You never believed old wive’s tales like those, though. Not until you came back, years later.

After your parents moved to the states, there was nobody to take care of your beloved childhood home. By the time you finished college and decided to move back into your family’s old estate, it should have fallen in disrepair, but…it was spotless, as if you had never left. The bookshelves you had filled completely with fairytales, fantasy novels, and animal-themed encyclopedias hadn’t even collected dust. You’d have been worried that maybe someone had broken in, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Who would break into a house to keep it tidy? Nothing was missing- nothing substantial, that is, you noticed a couple of your books weren’t where you left them- so it wasn’t any kind of robbery. Eventually, you chalked it up to bad memory and good luck, or maybe a friendly yet eccentric neighbor.

In the weeks that followed, you settled in well, finally getting the electricity working again and getting someone to help you get wifi, but something was off. Nothing bad, not like the kind of thing you’d see in a shitty horror movie, but strange things seemed to follow you like a dog on a lead. Petals seemed to dance through the air when you’d take walks outside, and you could never seem to find where they came from. The wildlife was bolder than you remembered, too. You were reading on the porch one morning when a fawn walked right up to you and rested its little head by your feet. On at least three separate occasions, songbirds had landed outside your window and woken you up with their little serenades, the melodies were almost familiar to you, even. Of course, what prompted your fateful journey into the forest wasn’t a couple of over-socialized animals and delusions of becoming the next Snow White. No, what broke you down, made the forest impossible to live besides without investigating, was that damn vulture. You noticed it the day you moved in, but thought nothing of it. Ignored it, as day in and day out it watched you from its perch, a huge tree on the border between the forest and your home. At some point, something in the back of your mind resurfaced, something that chilled you to the core. You recognised this vulture. Missing an eye, an extra toe on its left foot, a bird that haunted your childhood nightmares stood watch outside your house, all these years later. You told yourself it couldn’t be, that black vultures had a lifespan of ten years and this one didn’t even look weary, but soon, your dreams came back to confirm what you had already known.

Everything was just like when you were little— right down to the sleepless nights, and waking up shaking from terrors when you were too tired to resist sleep’s embrace. Your waking world wasn’t ripped from a horror movie, but your nightmares bore a resemblance to eldritch horrors that would drive hunters and woodsmen in your family mad. A horned creature, something too unnatural and obscured by fog to make out more than a silhouette and those gleaming red eyes, calling you. It wasn’t saying anything, but you felt it pull you, reaching a clawed hand out to you and inviting you into its home.

Finally, one night, you’d had enough. Waking up drenched in your own sweat and teary-eyed again, you decided to cut your problem at the root. Not even bothering to put something over your white pajamas, you slipped on a pair of socks and sneakers, grabbed a flashlight, and walked out of your house, into the woods. The vulture followed, of course, but that only made you trudge through the thorns, branches and vines faster. At some point, you realized your flashlight wasn’t needed, because you looked around and saw a path illuminated by fireflies. Cautiously, you let the insects lead you, hand now gripping the flashlight not as a tool but as a weapon, just in case. What you found at the end of this path was far from what you were expecting— what you thought you’d find ranged anywhere from a serial killer with an astonishing talent for training animals to the creature you’d seen in your nightmares, now made a reality by whatever uncaring god might be out there.

You weren’t expecting to see a man— and a beautiful one at that— around your age, dressed in flowing silk and chiffon (somehow unscathed by the forest, unlike your now destroyed pajamas), having a friendly conversation with that vulture, a fawn resting in his lap. He had horns that curled back and near-white hair that framed a delicate face, pulled back into a low bun and decorated with flowers, ones with petals you’d only seen near these woods, fluttering mysteriously over you.

When he took notice of you, his rose-tinted eyes lit up with excitement. As if sensing that he was about to jump up, the fawn opted to skitter out of his lap before it was launched. You barely had time to flinch as he ran to you, somehow not tripping on roots or tearing his ornate clothing, and took your hands in his.

“You’re here,” he said, as if he had been expecting you, “I was so worried you wouldn’t come, that you’d forgotten our promise—”

He was cut off by a low voice, another man where the vulture once stood, ears morphed into black feathers, left hand with six fingers ending in razor-sharp talons, dressed in attire befitting an ancient warrior, though modified for daily wear.

“She has, young master. I had to chase her just so she’d even consider going into the forest.”

“Oh,” he sighed.

You blinked, completely taken aback by this entire situation, “Excuse me, what? You and the bird—”

“Harpy, if you would. I don’t particularly enjoy being compared to those uncivilized things.”

“Sorry, harpy, said I forgot something? A promise?”

The light-haired man nodded, sighing yet again. “Yes, you have. Here, I'll explain it to you somewhere more comfortable— oh, your poor legs are covered in scratches.” He shot a glare at his guard.

“Did you have to chase her, Val? She looks terrified. All cut up and bruised, poor thing.”

The harpy nodded. “Like I said, she wasn’t going on her own. Would’ve taken her forever to stumble back here.”

“I’m so sorry about him,” he said, “had I known, I would’ve gotten you myself. Now, you must be exhausted. Come, I’ll bring you home.” Again, before you had a chance to react, he swept you off your feet and carried you in his arms, surprisingly strong for how gentle he looked. The look that Val gave you told you there was no use in fighting him, so you relaxed, almost falling asleep with your head against his chest before you arrived in front of a huge tree, one that had been turned into some kind of cottage. Once you were inside, he set you down in a nest of sorts, of soft blankets and pillows that you recognised as being from your house. He had Val make you both a cup of tea and carefully explained what he and his guard meant by a promise you’d forgotten. First by introducing himself as Eden Lathurna, a prince of forest fairies. He explained that fairies didn’t have royalty in the way humans did, but that it was the best way to explain who he was without confusing you or going into a long lecture about their history.

As a child, it turns out, you often explored the woods. You had to be warned to stay away so often because you kept going back. Eden, apparently, also had a habit of slipping out of his guardian’s sight and wandering the vast forest. Your paths first crossed when you found him caught in a trap your father had set out for raccoons, and you freed him without a second of hesitation. Of course, he’d never met a human before, and he was already scared, so your first interaction was short-lived as he ran off, back into the deep forest. You ran into each other again, then again, and again, and formed a bond, to the point that the forest itself seemed to claim you as its own, branches and vines moving out of your way as you ran and played with your dear friend. One summer in seventh grade, though, you and your family decided to stay with some family members in New York, and when you returned, you found Eden distraught. He thought you had abandoned him, left him behind without even a goodbye. Between your numerous apologies and his sniffling, wiping back tears, a promise was made.

“Promise me,” he said, “swear that whatever happens, you’ll come back to me.”

Eden let out a soft laugh before taking a sip of his sweet, flowery-smelling drink, “It was so long ago, and you forgot, but here you are, just like you promised. Maybe a part of you still remembers even after all these years.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten something like that. I really don’t take promises lightly, I wouldn’t have-”

Seeing you tensing up and beginning to spiral, Eden moved to hold your face in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “it’s okay. We can worry about that later, but you’re here now and you need to rest, my love. I’ll be here with you in the morning.”

Under normal circumstances you would have questioned the use of that affectionate nickname, but you were really tired. Too tired to ask any more questions tonight. As you curled up in the pillows and blankets, drifting into a calm sleep, you felt Eden join you, arms pulling you close against him, as if he were scared that if he let go he would lose you again.

#clover’s ocs #clover's ocs: eden #clover’s ocs: val #asks open #requests open #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x human #monster x you #my fic #exophilia #monster boyfriend #sfw fic #fairy x reader

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moxie-girl · 2 years ago

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the beach

A short story/poem I wrote for English class.

The sunlight off the sand is blinding no matter which way you peer, the tiny glass particles catching the golden beams and flinging them every which way. You turn to the sea instead, hoping her cool waters will provide a reprieve, but she, too, is enraptured by the sun’s merciless light, white flashes glinting off the cresting waves as far back as the horizon in uneven stripes, drawing to mind the lines and swirls in a half-mixed lump of paints.

The repetitive swoosh-crash of the waves attempt to lull you to sleep, the foaming water reaching desperately for the shoreline before being pulled back, resisting, into the deep blue-green depths. Another wave crests, and the cycle repeats anew, the sea throwing her grasping hands onto the sand, clinging to anything she can and dragging it down with her.

You watch this show and know in your heart that if you were to go down there, the sea would grab you too, pulling you into her gaping maw, down down down past sea-foam teeth and a lashing tongue, for while the sea may not be malicious, nor does she care for you.

Over your head, an airplane sputters by, a rippling flag ordained with bright colors trailing behind it like the tail of a decorative bird. It circles the beach like a vulture, the cheerful advertisements preying on those below with promises and pleas - you need this! - call this number now! - we can help!

A few sea-birds, voices loud and attitudes louder, circle in to land beside an abandoned towel, and they pick through the sand for scraps with the keen eyes of hunters. One of them makes a discovery, a half-eaten sandwich buried in the sand, and attempts to make off with its treasure. You watch as the other gulls surround the lucky one, snapping and biting at its prize. Soon enough, the meal is stolen, and just as quickly the birds turn on the victor instead, a vicious cycle that lasts until there is nothing left of the sandwich at all.

To your right, a group of children play in the sand, digging a crumbly hole deeper and deeper, past the scalding layer of dry sand into the cool, dark, layer below, burying themselves like sand-crabs waiting for night. You wonder whether this is all that remains of an animalistic instinct now long-gone, the echoes of desert creatures hiding from the sun and heat.

Not far behind you, a lifeguard tower creaks in the wind, a wooden monument to those who dare to grab back from the sea’s grasping fingers. The sky-blue paint that coats the wooden planks is chipping, peeling in some places and faded in others, and you wonder how long it has been since it got a fresh coat.

Beneath you, your scratchy towel shifts on the sandy ground, and you are reminded that the beach you lie upon is nothing more than thousands and thousands of pounds of tiny rocks, microscopic grains held together only by pressure and moisture and sheer determination. You realize that if the sea does not claim you, the earth surely will, for she could open up right now and swallow you whole.

You curl up smaller on your towel, hunching into the fluttering shadows provided by your flimsy umbrella, the only barrier between you and the relentless, gleaming sun. You begin to feel drowsy, the cool shade and the sea’s lullaby stealing away at your conscious mind, sleep’s gentle fingers seeming more and more appealing as your eyelids grow heavy. You hope only that when you wake, you are still safe under the umbrella’s protection.

#i wrote this specifically about redondo beach ca #but im sure it applies to other beaches too #redondo beach #california #poetry #poem #short story #writing #moxie writes

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saeyoungchoismaid · 4 years ago

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Lucky Charms | chp. 1

Pairing: Satan x f!reader Genre: fantasy au Warnings: slight gore?? Summary: The hunt begins and you have until sunset to accomplish your main goals. Find a monster and be able to stay in your village. Chapter: 1/? A/N: 2.9k WORDS GUYS. TWO. THOUSAND. NINE. HUNDRED. H U H? Lmao I never write this much what in the world. Also, I say female reader but so far the reader isn’t referred to with female pronouns so

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As a monster hunter, you didn’t expect any of this to happen.

Well, monster hunter is a strong word. You aren’t exactly considered to even be one yet.

You didn’t want to be a monster hunter though. This duty was placed on you as soon as you were born, so you didn’t have much of a choice. It’s not your fault that your dad was a legendary monster hunter and everyone expected you to be as well.

Now, here you are, standing in an arena filled with hundreds of people staring down at the lot of you as they scream and cheer. You look around you to check out the competition, trying to reassure yourself that you’d be fine. That you can do this.

But you can’t. How can you? You don’t want to kill anything.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the yearly Hunting Games! I’m your host, Thoredo!” The crowd goes quiet when the host starts to speak, everyone watching him circle the group in the middle.

“You all know how this works but just in case you forgot or there are newcomers, I’ll explain it! Our lovely hunters here are of hunting age! They will prove their worth by going and slaying the mightiest beast they can find! Each creature known to man is placed somewhere along the point system. The more rare and harder to kill the monster is, the more points our hunter gets! To prove that they’ve slain a beast, they must bring back a piece of the monster! An eyeball from a cyclops, the nail from an ogre, a scale from a siren! Whatever can prove the killing! Our hunters have until sundown to be back or they are disqualified, also meaning they’ll be kicked out of the village!”

You gulp at the last part, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. You clench them into fists, listening to the crowd roar. Thoredo smiles at the crowd, looking at them as he rounds the group to the front of you and your peers. He then looks at each of you, a smirk coming to his face.

“Again, you have until sunset. If you don’t get back before then, fail to slay a beast, or only kill a monster that doesn’t have enough points or isn’t on the point system at all, you will be banned from the village and you may never return. Questions?”

Someone actually raises their hand to ask a question but they get ignored. “Great! On your mark, get set, go!” he shouts.

You quickly run over to the table stacked with weapons. You grab a bow, a quiver filled with arrows, a dagger, and twin swords. You quickly strap it all to you before running out of the arena. Most of the other competitors took the main front entrance out of the village before dispersing. You decided to head back to your house, slipping through a split in the fence that surrounds your village.

You run until your village is far behind you, out of sight and out of mind. You slow and catch your breath, trying to figure out what the game plan is. You’ve been thinking about this day since your father became a legend. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, your mind going a hundred miles a minute.

Some people even expect you to miraculously find and kill a unicorn, even though they’re extinct. You hate to disappoint, but that’s not happening. Even if you did, you can’t kill it.

You can’t kill anything.

You sigh again, rubbing at your forehead. You’ll have to find a monster that’s already dead and just take something from it. And if you can’t even do that, you’ll just have to leave your village and find a nice cave to live in.

You take a deep breath and nod your head once, determination filling you. You have to do this. You can do this. How hard can it be to find a dead monster?

You start to walk further into the woods, listening to the woodland creatures call out to one another. You glance up into the sky, noting the placement of the sun. It’s still late morning, so you have plenty of time to find a dead beast and return home.

Apparently, it’s harder to find a dead monster than you originally thought.

Hours and hours later, you’re still on the hunt. You look into the sky occasionally to see if you can see vultures circling the sky over something about to die but no luck. You shouldn’t have had your hopes so high. Some of you aren’t even expected to kill anything or come back alive. Not many things can kill such ferocious beasts and live to tell the tale.

A little after noon, you stop by a creek to take a little break. You’ve been trekking around the woods for hours on end and your feet are starting to hurt. You stare longingly at the water, letting out your nth sigh of the day. “Sure would be nice if I could drink you,” you say to the water. You stare at it for a long moment, your brows furrowing when the water seems to sparkle, and not like the normal kind of sparkle.

It seemed to almost glitter for a moment. Then, something urges you to drink it. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know it’s a bad idea, that you shouldn’t, but the water just seemed so appealing. You rest on your knees and lean over the water, cupping some into your hands before bringing it to your lips. Instead of it tasting dirty or fishy, it tasted just like the water from the watering well back in your village.

You smile and drink some more, getting plenty of water before standing. You then continue on with your walking, praying to all gods that you’ll find something to bring home.

About three hours after the sun’s peak, you grow a bit tired again. You relax on top of a stone, catching your breath as you wipe the sweat away from your brow. After a couple minutes of relaxing, the ground suddenly shakes a bit.

You become confused, and worried, as you slowly stand up. Your eyes flash this way and that, wondering if there’s an earthquake. You’re quickly proven wrong when you hear a roaring voice coming from within a big cave.

“Who dares to cross into my forest!” comes a booming voice from within the cave. You gape as a monster appears before you, watching its eyes look around before landing on you.

“You! How dare you! You must die!” the ogre roars, starting to stomp his feet. Your legs shake with the vibrations he sends through the earth, making you grab ahold of the rock you were previously sitting on to prevent you from falling.

“I’ll leave!” you promise, wishing you could run away but the ogre doesn’t let up his stomping. He starts to laugh, pausing his brutal stomps.

“And let my dinner leave?” he asks as he swipes at you, his brute nails scratching your arm. You cry out and move away, hearing more roaring laughter from him. Since the ground has stopped shaking, you take the opportunity to run. You just break through the trees when you hear the laughing stop, making you quickly press yourself against a tree.

“Hey! Where’d you go, dinner?” the beast roars, its footsteps booming in the now quiet woods. Your heart attempts to fly out of your chest with how hard it’s beating, the pounding resonating in your ears.

You gasp for air as quietly as possible, the adrenaline rushing through your veins causing your body to shake. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to think of a plan. Something in you suddenly tells you to open your eyes, the message repeating throughout your body when you don’t instantly do it.

You take a deep breath before complying, seeing a flash of white. Your eyes widen before squinting, trying to make out what you saw.

“Huh? Is that you, dinner?” you hear the ogre question, its footsteps moving in the opposite direction that you’re hiding. You chance a look around the tree, seeing the flash of white again. Your brows furrow before you realize this is your chance to get away.

You start to run again, silently thanking the white entity for helping you escape. You run in the direction that you first saw it, running as fast as your legs will carry you. You run until you reach a pond, panting as you look around at your surroundings. You were keeping track of the direction you were going so you’d be able to get back to your village, but now you’re completely lost.

You sit on the ground, continuing to look around you to see if you recognize anything. You look up and only see limbs of trees, the sun only able to slip through some gaps. You don’t know which way the sun is facing and you also don’t know how much time you have left in the day. How long have you been running?

You sigh and lay back in the grass, feeling a cool breeze blow over your heated body. You close your eyes, feeling sudden fatigue take over your being. Maybe you can just rest for a couple of seconds?

Yeah, that couple of seconds turned into you falling asleep for a couple of hours. You awake in a panic, seeing the sun is no longer shining through the gaps in the trees. It’s still light outside but the sun isn’t high enough for the trees’ limbs to block. Now, the trunks of the trees are blocking the sun from your view.

You quickly stand up, starting to pace as you brainstorm ideas. How are you supposed to get back? How are you supposed to bring a monster part back home? Even if you wanted to slay a beast, you probably didn’t even have the time for it.

You run your hands through your hair for a minute or so, trying to come up with a plan; something, anything at all. As you’re conjuring up ideas, you hear a stick break behind you.

You quickly spin around to see another flash of white. Is it the same thing that helped you before?

“Hello? It’s you, isn’t it? The one that helped me?” you ask, spinning in a slow circle in search of the flash of white. When it flashes between two trees again, you quickly run over to it but nothing is there, of course.

“Please come out. I won’t hurt you. I want to thank my savior. To thank my white knight,” you call out, smiling to yourself at the last part. You sigh when they don’t come out, wondering what they are. They clearly aren’t human from how fast they move.

You start to think of different possibilities, ruling out a few things that are the wrong size or color. You walk over to the pond, looking in to see all sorts of colorful fish you’ve never seen or even heard of before. You look around the crystal clear pond, trying to spot more fish or other new species.

Your brows furrow when you see something white reflecting in the water on the opposite side. You look up and all the air leaves your lungs, your body freezing on the spot.

There, right before you, is a unicorn.

The beautiful, mystical creature tilts its head back at you when you spot it. You don’t know what to do with yourself, too afraid you’ll spook it away.

This creature helped you? But why?

You take a deep, shaky breath before standing on quivery legs. “Hello?” you ask softly, not wanting to spook it. It huffs out air through its nostrils, taking a few steps away from you.

“No, no. I won’t hurt you,” you say softly to not spook it from across the pond, putting your hands out in front of you. It shakes its head a bit, its white hair flying around its head at the motion.

You start to walk around the pond when it neighs, going on its hind legs before taking off. “No!” you shout, cursing yourself for scaring it. You groan and plop back down on the ground, laying down and staring up into the trees.

That was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you messed it up. Your eyes squint towards a tree branch, swearing that you saw a streak of bright green; a green too light to be part of the forest. You slowly sit up, staring up into the trees. Suddenly, something crashes from the trees and falls to the ground. You jump up, afraid that some creature has come to attack you.

You’re about to pull out your sword when you realize that the creature isn’t moving. You slowly walk towards it, wanting to get a better look. That’s when you realize what it is.

A Cockatrice.

The Cockatrice is a male, the brown-and-green body with a green tail proving this. You make sure to keep your distance though, knowing just how deadly they are. You look around you and find a stick, taking a deep breath as you pick it up.

You slowly lean forward, using the tip of the stick to poke the maybe-dead beast. You tense when you poke it, quickly moving away just in case it was still alive. You stare at it for a second, looking for moving of any sort but find none.

Then, you start to smile. This is perfect! You can bring this back and get a good amount of points for this! You don’t even think anyone has ever tried to capture one of these things. You take out your sword and slowly stab it through its body. You have to make it look like you slew it, after all.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to the grand beast despite it already being dead. The fact that it’s already dead is a whole other thing to ponder on. It doesn’t look old but then again, you don’t know all that much about Cockatrices.

Your nose scrunches as you drop the stick and pick it up by its tail, looking it over. You’ve, obviously, never seen one up close before. Man, is it ugly. You’re still smiling though. You honestly can’t believe it.

Your smile instantly drops when you realize that you still don’t know how to get back home. You look up towards the trees, deciding to leave this area to try and use the sun to get back home.

After leaving the clearing and actually being able to see the sky now, you see the sun is slowly sinking closer to the earth. You curse and start to run, praying you reach your village in time.

You run for who knows how long before finally reaching your village, seeing the village is starting to be cast in shadows. You run to the arena, hearing the grand horn blow just as you enter. You almost fall to your knees, your lungs burning, and your legs shaking from the exertion and almost giving out on you.

You go to stand in line with the rest of the competitors on wobbly legs, dropping the Cockatrice in front of you. You pant to catch your breath, looking down the line at everyone. Some people aren’t here and some don’t have anything in front of them or in their hands. Poor fellas.

You look forward again as the announcer starts to speak, thanking us for our hard work and bravery, and blah blah blah. He then asks each of us to step forward when the judges call our names, to show them what you slew.

Some people did really good; others, not so much. When your name is called, you pick the Cockatrice up by its tail and step forward.

“(Y/n) (L/n), what did you slay?” one of the three judges asks, clearly already seeing what’s in your hand but wanting you to announce it anyway.

“A Cockatrice,” you reply in a strong voice, letting the whole arena hear you. Whispers and murmurs instantly break out in the crowd, your eyes roaming over unfamiliar faces that stare back at you.

“A Cockatrice?” another judge asks, standing and leaning forward to get a better look at what hangs in your hand.

“Yes. I slew this beast with my own hands,” you lie, turning it to show the cut that you put into its body. The judge nods once before sitting down, leaning over to whisper amongst the other judges.

After a couple of pregnant moments, the middle judge stands to speak. “(Y/n), we give you a ten. Good job. You are the winner.” Cheers erupt in the crowd, your body relaxing at this news. Not only did you pass but you won. Guess it won’t be so hard to pass on your father’s legacy after all.

“Let’s all celebrate at the tavern!” Thoredo shouts above all the cheering, starting to walk towards the exit. Everyone starts to stand from the seats, walking down the stands to go to the tavern.

You look to the people who lost, your chest seeming to grow heavier with each look at someone who must leave their home. Some looked mad while others were crying, all looking devastated. That could’ve been you. That was almost you.

You were just extremely lucky to have found that Cockatrice.

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 27

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because satire is defeated. Now the only form of humor will be clever wordplay.

Last times on book: Kylan, Naia, Tavra (who is stuck in a spider), and new party member Amri are on a quest to save the Grottan Clan from millions of angry spiders who want their caves back and from the Skeksis Satirist skekLi. They also want to find a bell-bird bone to make a special magical flute with to warn all Gelfling about the danger the Skeksis pose. Both of these objectives dovetailed nicely when Kylan tooted on the bone to ward off the spiders and with the help of a pair of convenient urRu trapped skekLi.

That’s why you need a bard in your party.

Chapter 27

How do you solve a problem like skekLi?

urVa and urLii stop chanting but the effects continue, keeping skekLi from moving. He handles it with mature resignation.

“This is not...,” skekLi began. He shot a look at Naia and Kylan, then back at his Mystic brothers. “This is not nice - not fair!”

This is why we need to set out rules ahead of time.

The Skeksis could propose the rule ‘urRu can’t be used to paralyze Skeksis’ and then the Gelfling could propose ‘you’re not allowed to drink us.’

urVa, ever the most proactive urRu, tells skekLi to let the Gelfling go.

“Or what? You’ll raise that bow and run me through? And what happens to our other, eh?”

urVa stood watch while urLii began the winding descent down the corrie wall. He made the climb look easy with all four hands and his long-toed, bare feet, almost as dextrous as a spider himself. He paused on a ledge, half-hanging from the rock face, and tapped his chin. He was close enough now that his thoughtful murmur was audible.

“Hmm... That would be an interesting turn of events...”

urLii pls

That’s a heck of a train of thought! But please ponder non-existence on your own time!

Naia tells Kylan that they should really just amscray on their own. Kylan fearlessly steps in skekLi range to grab Tavra who is still plopped on the floor from the power of the bell-bird bone.

skekLi was spiny with anger, all the quills and feathers along his neck and the back of his head raised. His bloodshot eyes burned with hatred and vengeful excitement.

Body language! Pissed off vulture crocodile dinosaur body language!

Since he’s frozen in place, skekLi’s last remaining weapon is his wicked tongue wielded witheringly.

He warns the Gelfling that if they thought his spider servants were bad, wait until they see what his pal skekUng is making.

“Big servants. Mindless, heartless servants. Flawless servants, with claws that could snap Gelfling in two. See what Gelfling do then, eh... if any are left.”

Oh snap, thats what we call foreshadowing! And maybe dramatic irony?

This is another time in the book where Kylan has no idea how to respond to something so just doesn’t. I think that might have been three times?

I’ve been wondering how Kylan, Naia, and Tavra were going to get down with all the bridges broke but the freed Grottan just come flying in and scoop up the two Gelfling as skekLi can do nothing but glare.

Huh. So it makes sense that the Drenchen Gelfling have adapted to their environment by having wings that are more like fins. But why do the cave dwelling Grottan still have fully flight functional wings.

Although, if the story about the founding of the Grottan Clan are accurate, they’d be the youngest clan so maybe they just haven’t had time yet.

Also, interesting detail. It takes only one Grottan girl to carry Naia away but it takes two to carry Kylan. Dunno if Kylan is just heavier or whether Naia is using her own wings to lighten the load.

So now that they have a Skeksis trapped on a mushroom, the party has the grand ‘so what the heck do we do with skekLi we have trapped on a mushroom?’

Tavra cautions that skekLi won’t be trapped for long. Probably eventually the other Skeksis will come rescue and/or laugh at him. And then he’ll tell them everything that transpired. Then they’ll probably laugh harder. But even if he already told the others what the main characters are up to, they shouldn’t take that chance.

“What are you saying, that we should kill him?” Naia asked. “And urLii with him? That’s not right. urLii didn’t do anything wrong!”

“No one’s done anything wrong,” urLii corrected. He met them and the Grottan, dusting his hands of rocks and sand from his climb. “We are all doing what it is we do, what is our nature and our character. Right and wrong... are a terribly complex song.”

“But that doesn’t help us,” said Naia.

Pfffft.

Characters keep getting frustrated by urLii’s philosophizing.

Kylan tries asking urLii what they should do about skekLi but his answer is “I suppose that depends on your character” which isn’t very helpful.

Kylan realizes that he’s gotta be the tie-breaker between Naia and Tavra. Amri is also here but he’s not voting.

Huh! Funny how this book had a pattern of Kylan being the tie-breaker between Naia and Tavra but it hasn’t actually been Tavra for most of it. And now that it is the real Tavra, the pattern is repeating anyway.

So Kylan considers how awful the Skeksis are. What the Hunter has done in general and to Kylan specifically. How Tavra is a spider now because of skekLi. And how he tried to kill Naia, showing that he isn’t even loyal to his own kind (weird that that’s a minus in the column but whatever).

urLii proposed that there was no right or wrong, but that in itself did not seem right. It wasn’t wrong, either. The paradox gave him a headache.

“I don’t think we should kill him,” Kylan said in the end. “The Gelfling are a peaceful people. Even when we fight among ourselves. If we’re to be the heroes of this song, we must show mercy, even when we’re not shown mercy ourselves. The Skeksis have done terrible things to us... but I would rather believe that we can unite for the good of our people, not for revenge.”

Its a nice sentiment, Kylan. Its a good principle.

I know that I’ve had similar thoughts in the past. I’m torn because I know where this is all going. And I wonder if the near complete wiping out of the Gelfling clans could have been prevented if the Gelfling fought dirty. Maybe not. And the Gelfling become dicks in the future, even with the example of Jen and Kira as the foundation of their society so who could say what they’d become if they became cynical pragmatists to defeat the Skeksis.

I don’t have an answer.

It’s hard to fight the Skeksis because they have in-built hostages.

Tavra is disappointed that she thinks Kylan is advocating for just letting skekLi go but he clarifies that they DEFINITELY should keep him imprisoned here but someone will need to watch him and keep other Skeksis from finding him.

ENTER MAUDRA ARGOT.

Still picking bits of spiderweb from her cloak, Maudra Argot stepped forward from the small group of Grottan. Of the thirty-seven Grottan Gelfling, even fewer remained, bedraggled and afraid, some elders but mostly younglings Amri’s age. They had lost the Caves of Grot as well - all in exchange for the bone-flute. Kylan’s heart broke for them all, and he hoped that it was worth the sacrifice.

Oof. They were already so few and now they’re so fewer.

But anyway, Maudra Argot says the Grottan will take up the task. They’ll move into the Sanctuary and guard skekLi as they have guarded other secrets.

In fairness, they can’t return to Domrak. The spiders have claimed it. And even if Kylan helped evict them with the bone-flute, they’d just return. Caves are theirs again.

urLii also offers to help keep skekLi here.

“Between the Shadowlings and myself, I believe skekLi’s song has come to an end.”

That’s a fun way of saying that he’s not going to do anything important ever again and that he’s going to rot away on his mushroom prison.

Maudra Argot also tells Amri that he’s to stay with the group and go with them to Ha’rar. Wait, does she think they’ll actually make it there ever?

But she says she won’t be happy until the Vapra have to acknowledge the Grottan and also that Amri needs to grow as a person. Going on quests can help with that!

Kylan says they should get going. He needs to make the bone into a firca and he’s never made one so he doesn’t know how long it’ll take. And he can’t mess it up because THERE’S ONLY ONE BONE LEFT out of the entire extinct species!

He suddenly realizes the weight of the task after fighting so hard to get the bone. He wanted a purpose and he got one and a purpose does not sit light.

Kylan also really hopes that they don’t have to go through the Tide Pass again but he’d rather that three hundred times than stick around skekLi any more.

“I would give my life to stop him from escaping,” [urLii] remarked. “He is me, after all. But I do not believe it will be necessary. Even if it were, it would certainly be a dramatic moment, eh?”

You’re a weird guy, urLii.

Maybe you’re the one guy on Thra who thinks more in terms of stories than Kylan does.

“We spoke with Mother Aughra, before we came to Domrak,” Kylan said. “She had no words for us. She said only time would tell. That understanding the heavens would find us in our place, I think is what she meant. If we could understand the grand song, we would be able to find our way. But... the Gelfling don’t have time for that. We have to cut our own paths. We have to make the choice between being the weaver or the woven. The teller and the told. The singer and the song... But I choose to be both.”

urLii scratched his chin with his slender fingers and tilted his head.

“Hmmm! Weaver and the woven, eh? Where did you hear such fine advice?”

Kylan smiled and sighed.

“Goodbye, urLii. I hope to meet again someday.”

“We probably will not. But I will hear the song of the bell-bird again, yes... When light and shadows collide, under the triple suns.”

Aww.

Of course, Kylan has no idea what it all means. He’s getting some vague grasping of the bigger picture of the Great Conjunction but its still unclear.

On their way out, Kylan stops to look back at skekLi’s baleful gaze and starts worrying about his spiteful declaration about what skekUng has in store.

He wants to think its a lie but skekLi included too many specific details for it be something he pulled out of his ass. Like, who even is skekUng? The name drop means nothing to Kylan!

Tavra tells him to look away and for a moment, Kylan imagines that he can see her as she was, bipedal and not an inch tall.

“Forget him for now, or you will not be able to look ahead.”

He did as she suggested, turning his back on the Skeksis’s piercing gaze and hurrying after his friends.

Tavra here with the good advice.

I like that she’s not just here to be the one with bad opinions all the time. And that she’s protective of Kylan.

And since she’s now a tiny spider, she’s just emotionally protective of him.

She tried to protect Naia in Shadows so I just think that’s who Tavra is.

Anyway... OH NO only two chapters left??

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Amri #Tavra #skekLi #the Satirist #urLii #the storyteller #urVa #the Archer

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lovesickjoon · 6 years ago

Text

bad religion - jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook/reader

rating: NSFW (18+)

genre: SMUT, hunter!reader au, kingofhell!jungkook (yes this was highkey inspired by spn)

words: 6.7k

desc.: it was a bad religion to fall for someone who could never love you. but, thankfully you hadn't fallen yet. and who knows? maybe he could learn how to love. or namjoon, your dumbass witchy friend ends up possessed by a demon. on halloween night, you make a deal with the devil to try and get him back.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, dom!jungkook, tiny bit of breathplay, possessive jungkook, probably forgetting something

notes: im sick so this is super unedited! also this is my p late submission for the BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #77 “You can’t sell me your soul, when you don’t have one to begin with.”

The warmth of Summer was long gone. The air felt sticky, despite the chilly breeze. The moon was abnormally bright, casting a silver glow upon the Earth. It was unsettling, being able to only see the moon, and not a single star. The inky clouds that occasionally floated in front of the hanging, luminous pearl, never once caused it to dim. Your stomach churns and twists in protests. Your subconscious continuously beckoned to you, begging for you to turn back. It had been a long drive to find the secluded crossroads, and it was too late to turn back.

You had parked your car several blocks away and were now on foot. Driving this far into the countryside was new to you. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to drive this far here again. It never failed, Namjoon always managed to fuck something up.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew this would work. It had taken hours of relentless searching to find the proper incantation. You had to dig through the witch's files for days before you found anything remotely close to what you needed.

Witchcraft was something you had promised yourself to avoid messing with. You always left it to Namjoon. You did the stabbing and he did the casting. You were on your own, and you were the only person willing to help your poor fuck up of a best friend.

You glanced around the road, eyeing the sides carefully. You gathered several decent sized rocks. You dropped the bag cautiously onto the dirt and kneeled. You adjusted each rock until they formed a somewhat circular shape. You drew each ingredient out of your bag and placed them in the middle of the circle, one by one. You grabbed a pebble and used it to sketch out the sigil into the dirt. You had to sketch delicately around the rock formation, the last thing you wanted was to mess up the ceremony.

Next, you brought out six onyx colored candles. You pulled the lighter from your jacket, the dirt crunching beneath your weight as you moved. The flame flickered to life, nearly fading out because of the howling wind. You lit the first candle, using your body to block the wind. The candles were specifically created for summoning. They endlessly burn, and are entirely unaffected by nature, unlike your lighter. You returned the lighter back to its place and used the one candle you had burning to light the others.

Next was the picture of you.

You pricked yourself with the needle, squeezing and massaging your finger to try and make the blood flow out easier. The drop landed directly onto the picture of you, and you felt more queasy than ever.

You cleared your throat, staring down at the dancing flames of the candles. The energy is already coursing through the pages, waiting to be unleashed. You can feel it humming through the thick leather. A shaky sigh escapes you when you tightly grasp the book and yank it from the confines of your bag. The book practically leaps into your arms and flings itself open. It violently splits open, the pages hastily whirl by on their own. It was as if the book had a mind of its own.

It seemed... eager... to be used.

The howling wind and the tossing of the grass seemed to still when the first words parted from your lips. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus. The words were familiar, you had repeated them to yourself for hours on end, trying to learn the spell. Though you spoke in broken Latin, you knew the words were transmitting. The text began to glow, and the book grew hotter with each sentence you finished.

The ground began to rumble, and you knew the creature was being torn from its throne. Your throat tightened, and you felt tears begin to poke from the corners of your eyes. It was so much worse being the individual to actually summon a demon. Rarely, when you were observing Namjoon complete a ritual, did you get sick. You always knew that, watching Namjoon get sick. You never realized entirely how sickening the process really was though. It was draining, mentally and physically. It felt as if you were right on the brink of death.

You choked out the last word and threw the book from your hands. The feeling of your skin sizzling and melting away made you hiss. You grabbed your arm, desperate to stop the pain. The book was entirely illuminated, glowing painfully bright. You wrench your eyes closed, the wind was roaring now, and you were convinced the entire planet was rocking back and forth.

Then it was calm.

The book dimmed, the candles simultaneously blew out, and the wind blew away the sketch in the dirt. Your picture was entirely singed, along with the ingredients. The rocks had sunk into the ground at some point during the ritual. The only thing that was left was burnt ashes. More importantly, your skin hadn't dissolved away. You stand and dust yourself off. You glance around, expecting to see someone standing around, watching you with curiosity.

You contemplated leaving, going and finding a place where you could have a couple of drinks... Or maybe a nest full of vamps you could stake.

Anything to get your mind off of this.

You pluck up the book and your bag. Everything felt different, but not in ways that you could name. It was such a slight shift in the atmosphere it was almost unnoticeable. For a fleeting moment, you worried if you had pronounced something wrong and unleashed something terrible out into the world.

You waited.

Unlike the person you were summoning, you were not immortal. You couldn't sit here and stare blankly at the sky until he showed up. At this rate, you were going to die before he arrived.

You persisted anyway.

You were determined to fix Namjoon's mess, even though he was the one to dig his own grave. You stood there like the ugly girl at prom, waiting for the guy who promised to be her date to show up.

"Sorry, I was running late. It's not often someone calls me directly from my throne."

You twirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try and turn. Features scrunching up in confusion, you examine the man head to toe. How the fuck had you managed to summon an angel? The dark, doe eyes twinkle in amusement, and he grins.

"What? Were you expecting my horns to be larger? I didn't want to frighten you, delicate mortal."

You froze, and your heart lurched. It was finally settling in. You had just summoned the fucking King of Hell. His tall, lean figure didn't intimidate you. Not in the slightest. If it wasn't for the horns and the occasional shifting of his eye color, he could pass as someone your age. In no way, shape, or form did he appear to even be an ancient demon. The power, raw and unadulterated, radiating off of him was the off-putting part. The demon glanced towards the ashes, eyeing them carefully. He reaches towards the ashes and pinches a bit of the ash between his fingers.

He blows the dust from his fingers and raises his eyebrows. "A deal?" he asks. He eyes you suspiciously and wipes away the smear of ash off. "You waited specifically until Hallows' Eve to do this. Didn't you?"

As if you were a video, someone had taken the remote and stopped you from moving or speaking. You were on pause. You didn't know how to answer, should you lie? Should you tell the truth? The demon takes a step towards you, coming closer than you were comfortable with. You catch a glimpse of red in his eyes, and then it's gone.

He smirks, "I see. You purposely waited, just to summon little old me. This must not be a regular deal then. Oh. Don't bother trying to lie to me, because it obviously won't work."

You mentally give yourself a good shake and try to focus on your objective. You could probably knife this bastard just as easily as any other demon.

He rolls his eyes, "Mortals, all of you are so feeble-minded. Tell me, what is it you want? True love? Fortune? An extra cup size? Go ahead, sweetheart. This is always the busiest night in Hell."

"I want you to stop whichever one of your little minions it is from wearing my best friend. I only want him sane, completely alive, and back where he belongs," you hiss.

The worst thing is having someone incredibly powerful laughing directly in your face.

Which is exactly what he did. The King cackles until he doubles over, appearing to be in pain from laughing so hard. You internally cringe, and the repulsive feeling returns to your gut. He really found you.. amusing. You were concerned about the well being of your friend. Yet, this asshole was laughing.

You have to really resist the urge to whip your knife from your side and gank him right then and there.

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he raises his head, the grin still on his lips. He circles around you like a vulture, inspecting every inch of you. "Before we talk payment... Tell me, how did he end up as a vessel for a demon of mine?"

Truth be told, you weren't entirely sure. Namjoon wouldn't let some demon merely hop in his body and take it for a ride. Also, he hated messing with demons in the first place. You had kind of came to the conclusion that he had somehow been tricked, or forced. The last time you barged into his house, he had black eyes and threw you against a wall with simply a wave of his hand. He didn't answer a single question and only rummaged through his files. Maybe the demons wanted information? There was no way for you to be entirely sure.

He hums almost inaudibly, seemingly thinking. He had read your thoughts again.

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your friend wanted to be a vessel?"

Before he even finished the sentence, you were already shaking your head. "Why? Why would he want to ride backseat while someone else controls his body? That doesn't make sense."

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "How will you pay me?" his tone lowers, and he stops in front of you once more. You hold your breath as he nears you again. From this angle, you can see that innocent glimmer even better.

You frown, "Well, my soul. That's usually the price, correct?"

"Indeed," he hums. "But you can't sell me your soul when you don't have one, to begin with."

The metal jewelry glinted just enough to catch your attention. You focus your attention on the silver adorning his wrist, mulling over his words. You never played around with this kind of thing. Unless someone appeared in the middle of the night and siphoned it from you, he was lying. It wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if he really was lying. He was the King of Hell, and lying was what he did best. He tilts his head to the side, pouting.

"You don't believe me?" He asks.

He sighs and then the pout drops from his features. "The names Jungkook, by the way. Constantly referring to me as the King gets annoying after a while," he snorts.

You go silent, unsure of what to do, or what to believe. You were already low on cash, so you definitely weren't going to be able to give him a regular payment. Besides, a part in the back of your mind knew he wouldn't want it anyway. "How am I alive if I don't have a soul? How did I lose my soul?" you demand. Surprise flashes across his features, and it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

"You think it's a big contract, just like every other mortal on Earth, don't you?" He asks in a mocking manner. "Technically, yes. You can lose your soul due to a big contract, similar to a contract that would be made here."

He pauses and steps away. He places his hand underneath his chin, trying to formulate a better way to explain his thoughts.

"It's a series of little agreements and every little fuck up counts. As for the how you're alive part, you can live a perfectly normal life even if your soul is gone. You're not unique, you're just the same as any other regular mortal. Until you die, that is. Then you're destined to fall straight into the pit."

You reflect on the haunting words, trying to think of every single thing you had done wrong. The list was honestly quite long at this point. You had done several horrible things in the past, trying to save your own ass from the fire. Only to learn that you were destined to fall right into it anyway. You never harmed animals, you never hurt anyone that didn't deserve to be hurt. You thought you were doing the moral thing.

"The devil has a thousand faces, sweetheart. Sorry to break the news this way," he mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"If that's the case, then how do any souls get sold at all?"

The corner of his mouth twists in irritation. He clearly didn't appreciate the number of questions you had for him.

"Not everyone fucks up as easily as you have. Some souls simply are worth more than others, but most others just make fewer mistakes. Even if their essence is close to being fully corrupted, we usually will accept it. That is... if the deal is over something minor. You though, you're asking me to bother one of my own, and there's pretty much nothing to gain from you. No profit."

"Pathetic," he sneers condescendingly. "It's been years since I've seen a mortal completely corrupt themselves all on their own. You're lucky, though. I'm willing to fetch your little friend if you're willing to pay a different price."

Jungkook takes a confident stride towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back and start sprinting in the other direction. Jungkook cupped your face, gently brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Your cheeks scorched with embarrassment. Your mind clouded, and it became hard to think with him so near. Your face feels frozen, but burns where he caresses you gently. It took a moment before you could form a coherent thought.

"What's the price?" you ask, your stomach in knots.

He grins, "I get to fuck you. Since I've laid eyes on you, I've had an overwhelming desire to pin you down and whisper the filthiest things into your ear. I want to hear you whine and whimper until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

You felt lightheaded. The slightest breeze could come along and tip you over with ease. "Right now?" you murmur, voice failing you. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog surrounding your mind and vision.

"No, Y/N. I will come to collect my payment soon."

You want to ask how he knows your name, but you figure it's a demon thing. Besides, you probably couldn't force the words out of your mouth at the moment anyway. His fingers remain on your face, and he didn't break eye contact. He was probably doing this on purpose, trying to lure you into a contract. Too bad for him, he was only wasting his energy. You were going to say yes either way. It was the eye contact, or scent, or.. something! It was him, he was the culprit making you feel this way.

"Yes," you spit out, finding it to be a struggle to make your voice go louder than a whisper.

The urge to throw yourself in his arms and let him care for you for the rest of eternity burns strongly inside of you, but you suppress it. It was his energy, you didn't even know him or anything about him. He presses his body into you eagerly, lips closing in on yours. His figure was so much warmer, compared to your mortal frame. It was thrilling, but terrifying considering you were so close to something that could easily snap you in two. Warmth spreads from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was a swirl of indescribable emotions in your chest when the two of you broke apart. The kiss didn't last near as long as you wished it had. He stepped away from you, and you knew the deal was sealed.

He turns on his heel and marches away. The fog dissipates, the more distance there is between the two of you. There's another strange warmth, and it's creeping it's way up your arm. You roll up your sleeve with slightly cloudy vision, searching for the cause of the feeling. Right below the bend of your elbow is a mark. It materializes into a branded mark, and the symbol is easily recognizable. It's the sigil you drew to summon him. He had stuck a claim on you.

Your head darts up when you hear a violent cough. On the ground, a few feet away from you, is Namjoon. The sigil etched into your skin and every thought of Jungkook disappeared from your mind.

It had been a week since that night, and Namjoon was still pissed. He wouldn't admit it, but his actions spoke volumes. There had been no sign of Jungkook, leaving you regularly on edge. The mark scorched into your skin was obnoxious. At night, you would wake up, convinced someone had put your arm in a boiling pot of water.

"What's next?" Namjoon asked, reaching for one of the flasks on the bottom shelf. He shifts the basket on his arm and starts to stroll along again. You followed behind Namjoon like a lost puppy. "Oil of Abramelin," you responded, eyeing the list carefully.

When Namjoon didn't acknowledge you, you tried to pry once more.

"You can get that here?"

Namjoon kept his back turned to you, but you knew he was rolling his eyes. The building was like a maze, and the fluorescent lights above probably gave away every skin imperfection you had. There was a moment of silence, and then Namjoon sighed. "Humans who want to meddle in the dark arts can't buy anything here."

You frowned, definitely still pissed. You bite your lip, wanting to make a snide remark back, but also not wanting to see a Namjoon meltdown in public. Everything in the store seemed antique. Each item seemed crammed onto the shelf rather than place artistically. The painted text on the aisle directory signs was peeling away.

Only chunks of words were recognizable, but it didn't help in the slightest. All of the products appeared to be scattered throughout the store carelessly. So, the signs wouldn't have been much help regardless.

Namjoon led you further into the shop, and you could tell the rear of this place rarely was used. Dust had gathered on pretty much every surface available. Even the spiders had abandoned the back of the shop. Their silk webs were now another collector of dust and pollen. Namjoon ignored the cobwebs, plucking thing randomly off of the shelves as he passed them.

"Next?" Namjoon asked, stopping abruptly. You fling your arms out in front of you, trying to avoid crashing into him. You stabilize and fumble with the list.

"Fulgurite," you read, squinting at the word in confusion. "Whatever that is."

Before Namjoon could completely twist around again, you lightly hooked your fingers into the back of his shirt. He studied you with a puzzled expression, "What?"

Feeling awkward, you release his shirt and let your hand drop to your side. "How many times have I apologized already?"

The question comes off slightly harsh, although you don't intend for it to sound that way. You didn't care though, Namjoon would be way too willing to hold this grudge against you for as long as he could. Namjoon glanced around as if he was expecting to see other customers nearby. It's deserted except for the ancient cashier. She was most likely hard of hearing anyhow.

"We've already been through this," he retorted, dropping his voice low.

"Yeah, but-"

You swallowed, trying to force the words to come out of your throat. It became hard to make out the details of the room, and the features of Namjoon. A wave of heat coursed through your veins, starting with the mark. Your ears popped, and the deep voice calling your name went muffled. Through blurred vision, you could see Joon wave his hand in front of your face. Nothing you did stopped the warmth rising in your chest. You buckle over, and you feel cool hands grab you by your shoulders. Namjoon does his best to guide you to the floor as safely as possible.

Then Namjoon's soothing hands disappear. You're drifting. There's no floor underneath you, nothing you can grab onto, and the weight of your clothes is missing. The fear, the worry, it has departed too. You feel abnormally calm, despite what had just happened. You unclench your eyes, startled to see an unfamiliar sky above you. You raised yourself from the bed, breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook sat, perched right beside you on the bed. His mouth erupts into a sinister grin, and he greets you. "Welcome to Hell."

You were in a room, not outside, you concluded. The ceiling above resembled a night sky. There was something about the way the lights twinkled that made you feel as if it wasn't real. After a few more moments of gazing at the faux sky, your eyes drifted to Jungkook. Jungkook, the reality you didn't want to face. "Hello," you murmur, almost inaudibly.

"You don't sound very happy to see me," he remarks.

Namjoon comes to mind, you envision him on his knees in the shop. He was probably baffled by how you managed to vanish right from his arms. You had absolutely no reason to be happy to see Jungkook. Jungkook shifting on the bed catches your attention. He smirks and crosses his arms, "Oh, I see. You're upset because I interrupted the fight between you and your little boy-toy."

You scoffed, "Namjoon's like a brother to me, it's not like that. Besides, he's obviously not interested, and neither am I."

"Oh, Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head. At some point, Jungkook had moved closer to you. He snakes his fingers up your arm and to the bend of your elbow. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment you can't breathe. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the mark, and you swear little sparks shoot up your arm. "How does Namjoon feel about you selling your body to me?"

You lower your eyes, and the deafening silence answers the question. Jungkook tilts your chin up, so you are no longer looking away from him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted you to confirm it. You hesitantly shook your head, "Not what I sold."

The arm he was tracing over the mark with slipped itself around your waist. The grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel Jungkook's energy shift. "Y/N, if you genuinely don't want to do this, I won't force you. Tell me now, though, and I'll leave you alone."

You disregarded the sound of your heart beating tensely, trying to think through this carefully. Jungkook called to you softly, "Y/N, I hope you realize I am a very selfish and greedy person. This can be a one-time thing, or we can do it often. Know that I have no plans to share you with someone else though."

This was your chance to say no. From past experiences, you knew you were prone to desiring a relationship, craving the romantic things. Casual sex in the past never really stayed that for you. He could never love you back if you were to fall for him. Yes, Jungkook had the decency to ask you if you wanted this or not. That didn't mean he knew how to love another.

The easy solution was just to say no. Why would you take that route though? You could decide later if you were going to take a gamble at doing this again... For now, you were not going to miss this opportunity. Overcome with desire, you breathe out a faint 'yes.'

Jungkook dipped his head down and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed, and all you could feel was warmth. The warmth of his mouth on yours, the heat from the mark, and the warmth of just his very being. The intoxication that Jungkook had brought upon you last time returned. There wasn't a doubt about it, the King of Hell already had you wrapped around his finger.

You whimper when Jungkook pushes your lips apart with his tongue. He explored your mouth with the intent to claim. He was conveying his message from earlier to you again, he was not going to be willing to share your body with another. Every inch of you was now his.

He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath. Jungkook went for your jaw, sloppily trailing kisses down to your neck. It took a few moments before you realized Jungkook was simultaneously pushing you down onto the bed while marking your neck. He removed himself from your neck with a frustrated growl. Jungkook raised his hand, and the tip of his finger began to glow. With a single touch to your shirt, the material crumbled and dissolved into thin air.

You gasped, shocked by the sudden actions. Jungkook didn't merely stop at your shirt. He proceeded until you were completely exposed and on display for him. His palm found your breast, his fingers massaging it in a way that had your core throbbing. The wet heat between your thighs was growing more and more with each action. He reached for your nipple, gently tugging and rubbing it between his fingertips. This provokes a whine out of you, and he hums contently. His concentration turned to the other breast, and he repeated the same steps.

"You're so fucking pretty," Jungkook uttered, nipping at your sensitive chest once more. The kisses return, but this time, they're much more rushed. His attention trails lower, down past your ribs and all the way to your thighs. Jungkook parts your legs and moves between them. He resumes his path of kisses, now that your legs are parted.

Although you should expect it, you don't. A sharp moan rips itself from your throat when Jungkook finds your clit. He takes the tender nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in different patterns. You withered underneath his touch, panting wildly. This feeling was so much different compared to your previous partner's attempts. Jungkook had a skilled, very well practiced tongue. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. Jungkook brings his hands to your hips, striving to still your trembling form.

Jungkook licks a stripe up your slit, and you mindlessly let your hand drift to his hair. You wind your fingers into his hair, and the angle he looks up at you from exposes his glistening forehead. His furrowed eyebrows and the look of concentration on his face made you ecstatic. "Does this feel good, baby?"

"F-Fuck, yes," you whimpered. A squeak escaped you when Jungkook slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly starts to work you open. Your fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, causing him to groan. He dipped another finger into your wet heat, producing a loud noise from you. You do your best to silence your cries, but with such a cloudy mind, it's a struggle.

Jungkook seems to sense that you're holding back, so he doubles his efforts. "Such a tight little slut, you're taking my fingers so well," he smirks, knowing damn well what his words do to you. He sinks his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, working them faster than before. "...I can't wait to see how you take my cock."

Not being able to hold back any longer, you let your hips roll to meet the thrusts of his fingers. You were so slick and soaked, at this point there was no way the sheets weren't tainted. Jungkook went back to lapping at your clit, slamming his fingers in and curling them. Your back arched from the bed, sharp pleasure shooting up your spine. Jungkook had hit the sweet spot inside of you, but your brain was so muddled it took you a moment to figure out what he was doing.

His tongue circling and twirling around your sensitive clit grew faster. Jungkook added a third finger, making sure you were nice and fucked out for him. It was beginning to be too much, you didn't know how much longer you could last. You try to cry out Jungkook's name, try to warn him your about to tip over the edge, but you can't. It's too late. You clenched around his fingers, rolling your hips and wailing out his name.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, before drawing himself away from your soaked core. You expected the fogginess to lessen, instead of growing worse. You struggle, trying to scramble upwards. You're so, so tired, but you're dying to continue.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook queries, confusion written all over his features.

"Returning the favor-"

Jungkook puts a hand in front of you, motioning for you to slow down. He stands, letting his clothes disintegrate and disappear. He shakes his head, "You don't seem to understand who makes the decisions around here, but okay. You want me? You'll get me."

You peel yourself from the bed and drop to your knees obediently. Your face was perfectly level to Jungkook's long, throbbing cock. It was standing proudly, a thick vein wrapped from the top to the underside. The way Jungkook was glaring down at you had you feeling eager and more submissive than ever. You scooted closer, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he hums.

He slid himself over your lips a couple of times in a teasing manner. After a few moments, he finally pushes himself into your mouth. He moved slowly, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.

You linked your hands behind your back, letting Jungkook have full control of the pace. His fingers met the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length.

"You little slut, you've had plenty of practice, hm? You're taking me pretty well," he grunted, drawing himself out of you until his head was back at your lips. You ignored the ache in your knees, knowing damn well you were going to have a horrible carpet burn later. Jungkook hisses in pleasure, "Is this how you tainted your soul? By sucking as many dicks as you could so you could become a pro?"

The words made your insides burn once more, just when you thought you were sated.

You were anxious to please, so you hollowed your cheeks against him. You went to bob your head, but Jungkook held you still. You gazed up and met his eyes, causing him to groan. A thick band of sweat was developing on his forehead. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing. You hear him murmur something along the lines of, 'fucking gorgeous.' You can't make out the rest of the sentence, too concentrated on controlling your breath.

Your throat tightened around him, and for the first time in the session, you gagged. Jungkook yanked you off of him, and you gasped for air. You opened your mouth again, despite your aching jaw. He slid into your mouth with ease, meeting the back of your throat again. This time he was rougher, thrusting quicker and quicker. You knew he was getting close, and he did too. He gave a few more thrusts and then slipped out from between your lips.

You craved Jungkook more than ever now. Lust surged in you, loins stirring. His tone and his harsh words triggered something inside of you that you didn't really understand. Without speaking, you knew what Jungkook craved from you. You rose and crawled onto the bed. You were correct, your knees were fucked. You didn't pay any more attention to it, needing all of your focus to go to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes. His voice grows closer and soon enough, he's right behind you. "You're this excited to be fucked by a demon, I can't believe it. I'm a monster. I'm the fucking King of Hell, and yet here you are. You're presenting yourself to me, practically begging for it."

He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before rearing his hand back and slapping your ass. You glanced back in shock. One of his hands were busy, pumping up and down his cock. The other hand cracked against your skin, extracting a yelp from you. Jungkook positioned himself over you, and you arched your back into him.

"Please," you whine quietly. Your voice was unsteady, and there was nothing you could do to control it. Jungkook doesn't reply at first, deliberating on his next move. "Are you this eager for all cock, or am I just special?" he growls, delivering another smack to your ass.

"Yours! Only your cock!" you cry out, feeling tears begin to build up. His free hand roamed from your ass to your flooded heat. He cupped your core gently, and you jerked lightly. You were still a bit sensitive from the earlier orgasm. His fingers find your clit, and he flicks his wrists in a circular motion a few times. Just as quickly as the touches came, they disappeared. Your walls uncontrollably grasped and tensed around nothing.

You need him to fill you to the brim already. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn't walk or see straight. Right when your patience started running out, he puts his cock to your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of any other dick than mine. Your poor little boyfriend will never be able to make you feel this way."

You were so worked up, at this point you didn't bother to argue that Namjoon wasn't your boyfriend. He moved his cock up your slit, brushing against your clit. You wiggled excitedly, stomach in knots. The head of his cock found your entrance again. He leans his weight onto you and enters you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he barks, bringing his hand down on your backside. The initial thrusts are slow like he's testing how far your depths go. He was also most likely giving your walls time to adjust to his size. You don't hold back your noises now, letting them spring wildly from your lips. You're glad you had already orgasmed once, so you were slick. This made the glide and stretch so much better.

Then, Jungkook yanks himself from you almost entirely. When he thrusts back in, it's with nearly enough strength to knock you into the headboard. Your arms trembled, trying to hold yourself up. Jungkook slams into you again, and for a split second, you think you're going to fall face first into the silk sheets. Jungkook's hand travels up to your shoulder, and he helps hold you steady.

"Fuck," you spit out, heavily heaving. Jungkook keeps his promise, each thrust was going to ruin you. He snaps his hips up into you at a ruthless speed. Eventually, your arms do fail on you. Your face was buried into the sheets, along with your fingers twisted into them. "I don't think I've ever felt a pussy as tight as yours, fuck," he rumbles.

Jungkook places his other hand on your shoulder. He uses both arms to yank you up, and to his chest. You're lifted off the bed now, and your legs are thrown over Jungkook's thick thighs. Jungkook never stops pounding into you, although you're pretty much sitting in his lap. His hand travels from his shoulder, past your collarbones, and to your throat.

He wraps his hand gently around it, ever so slightly constricting your breathing. You snap your hips down onto him the best you can. Your tits bounce lewdly, and you can do nothing but helplessly moan. Jungkook seemed to like this angle, not wanting to release you or your throat. You rotated your hips and did your best to grind down onto him with equal passion. He releases your throat but decides to hook his arms under your own. He lets you lean forwards slightly, so the only thing keeping you from smacking your face onto the bed is his arms hooked around your shoulders.

The coil in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you urged it away. There was a tiny sense of control you had before, but now there was none. Jungkook had inhuman strength and could toss you around as he pleased. Jungkook is close to your ear, panting heavily. Somehow, he knows. "That's right, baby. You don't come until I tell you that you can. You're fucking mine."

Jungkook knew your body so well. He knew how to press your buttons and how to play with you flawlessly. He found the spot inside of you that he had previously discovered with his fingers. He angled his body so he could repeatedly jab his cock into that place. A scream erupts from your sore throat, and you try to find something to grasp onto.

You find nothing, though, and let your hands fall limply to your sides. Your limbs came back to life though when the pads of Jungkook's fingers find your clit. You nearly come on the spot but manage to choke it back. Your hands clamped around his wrist, trying to make him stop circling your sensitive nub. There was no way, you weren't going to last. There wasn't a single sign he was planning to slow down, either.

"I'm close, baby. Don't worry," Jungkook snarls. His words come off as harsh, but also endearing. His thrusts turned sloppy, and you knew he was telling the truth. No matter how messy, he was still more skilled than any other man you had ever been with.

"Come, come for me like the good girl you are," he orders, hips giving their final few jerks. You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to. The blistering, white-hot heat courses through you. He fills you immediately, and you were slightly surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Never had someone stuffed you so full. Or filled you at all. Jungkook goes to pull out, and most of the liquid flows out from your walls.

He positions you carefully on the bed. You blink slowly, entirely spent. "You did so well for me, Y/N. Thank you," Jungkook coos. You can't see his facial expression, because you're too tired to open your eyes. Jungkook cleaned you up the best he could, and soon enough you passed out with him realizing it.

You crack your eyes open, yawning contently. There was no alarm obnoxiously beeping, forcing you to wake up. It was merely sunlight seeping through your curtains and the sound of the birds outside chirping. Jungkook must have brought you home while you were resting. Jungkook, wait? What?

Memories of last night flood you, and you raise straight up. The memories were slightly blurry, almost like you had been drunk. You frown, and after a minute or so, it becomes clear. You had held up your end of the deal.

Something still seems wrong though. You drag yourself from your bed and glance in the mirror. There are no visible bruises on you or your neck. You notice you're wearing the exact same clothes you were before Jungkook had destroyed them. After a minute or two of staring at yourself, you think you know what's wrong.

You roll up your sleeve, the mark was still there.

Jungkook had forgotten to remove it. Fuck.

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katehuntington · 6 years ago

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How You & I Will Be - part four

Fandom: Supernatural Timeframe: mid-season 2 Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam & Reader (friends) Series summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time? Warnings part four: angst, pining, fluff, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death, saying goodbye, all the tears. Word Count: 3926 words Author’s note: Part 4 of a 5 part mini-series. @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier, thank you so much for being awesome betas! Hold on to something, because it’s gonna get dark and sad. Tissues are mandatory.

Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!

Unlike the raging blizzard that is whirling around the cabin outside, inside it’s completely quiet. The flames in the fireplace have died down to a few glowing chunks of charcoal, barely breathing. Dean settled against the wall hours ago and hasn’t moved since; Y/N fell asleep against his chest this afternoon and has been out of it for most of the time. And so he watches the lighting of the scenery change outside as sun goes down and the night comes in, washing dark clouds through the valley. It has been three days since the hellhounds attacked her. Not allowing himself to sleep has him exhausted, but Dean refuses to let his guard down. He has to stay on watch, he has to keep going. Maybe if he keeps fighting, she’ll be able to hold on, too.

His arm is wrapped around her, his cheek on her hair. The leftover moonshine keeps him company, comforting him whenever he lets the liquor burn his throat. He was able to contact Sam through the satellite phone again. His smart little brother found a ritual to send the hounds back to the doghouse, but getting his hands on the exotic ingredients has been a challenge. Several hunters are pitching in; Bobby, Ellen and Jo are all working around the clock. But when he glances down at the woman they are all desperately trying to save, he hopes it will be enough. He lets out a worried and shuddering sigh after registering the paleness of her skin and the shallowness of her breath.

In his entire life he prayed once or twice, maybe. When he was little he would ask God to bring his mom back, but he grew up quick enough to understand that he could pray all he wanted, his mother was never coming home. Today he prayed, though. He begged the man upstairs not to take her, to give her a chance.

But her condition is getting worse. The infection has caused blood poisoning, by the looks of it. Her fever spiked even higher few hours ago, causing restless dreams and hallucinations. Sometimes she is so far off that she mistakes him for her father. She cries for him, for her mom, too. She told him she was sorry about a hundred times, Dean can’t figure out what she meant. But damn, Y/N is putting up one hell of a fight.

‘I’m not gonna die, I’m not gonna die, I’m not gonna die!’

She keeps repeating it as if she’s trying to scare the reaper away. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if one is already lurking in the corner of the room, like a vulture waiting for the wounded animal to die. The bastard can wait all he wants, Dean can still feel her chest rise and fall, he can feel her shiver. He can feel the intense heat coming from her clammy skin. She’s alive, and again Dean closes his eyes and rests the back of his head against the wood, letting another weary breath slip from his lips.

God, please…. Please, let her win this fight. I’m begging you here, okay? I’m on my knees, I’ll do everything you ask. Please, just this one time…

As if it’s a sign from above, the satellite phone rings. Startled, Dean opens his eyes and stares at the piece of equipment laying a few feet away from him. Y/N stirs for a moment, awakened by the beeping sound, but he is able to slip his arm from behind her back and gets up without disturbing her any further. In three big strides he’s next to the phone, picks it up and presses the green button. “Sam?” “Dean, hey.” Relieved, the oldest Winchester places one hand on his hip and stares through the window into the dark night. It’s always good to hear his brother’s voice, especially in desperate times like these. “Tell me you’ve got something.” His words come out with a tremble in his voice he didn’t mean to be audible. But his brother heard it nonetheless. “I do. We got all the ingredients and Bobby is lifting the curse as we speak.”

During the following silence, Dean can hear the soft chanting of his surrogate father in the background. A sigh of relief escapes his lips and he silently thanks the man upstairs. But then Sam’s tone dawns on him. The words weren’t cheery or excited, not relieved like you would expect from the bringer of good news. Before Dean can ask about the downside, his brother continues. “How is she doing?” he wonders. “Did she get worse?” Dean turns around to observe Y/N’s unconscious figure leaning against the wall. He swallows thickly when he notices her grey skin tone, the dark shadows under her eyes, her lips pale and dry. He has seen it before, on the faces of hunters and victims whenever the monsters got to them before the Winchesters could. It’s as if the skull illuminates through the skin, eyes sunken in their sockets slightly more. The face of death. Dean turns away, having trouble to accept what is right under his nose. “She’s on the verge, Sammy,” he speaks softly, trying to stay strong.

“There’s a rescue team on standby in the valley, but they won’t be able to make a move until dawn, and that is if the storm passes,” the youngest Winchester breaks to him, as gently as possible. “It might take until tomorrow evening before we can reach you.” Dean gulps, witnessing the bad weather outside. The realisation that Mother Nature might be a major deal-breaker sinks in and Sam can hear a trace of panic when his brother objects. “No.” Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “No, no, no. She needs help right now. What about a chopper?” “They don’t fly during blizzards like these.” “A snowmobile then,” he thinks out loud, pacing back and forth. “How long will it take if you hike up this fucking piece of rock?!” “Even if we manage to reach you guys on foot, she will never survive the way back in her condition. It’s fifteen degrees outside, winds blowing over 70 miles per hour…” “Well dammit, Sam! There must be something!”

Dean turns around, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. He glances over at her for a second, making sure she is still asleep, but Y/N has barely moved since he picked up the phone. He knows his little brother heard the desperation in his voice. He knows how this looks, but he can’t accept it. He can’t allow it. “Bobby contacted a witch he owes, maybe she’ll be able to tame the weather. But it’s gonna take a couple of hours at least.…” “She doesn’t have that much time, Sam. I-I don’t think she’s.…” The line cracks a little when silence is the only thing that remains between the brothers. Dean presses his trembling lips together as he fight the tears, but he’s unable to continue. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Sam to get where he’s going. It takes a while before either of them speaks.

“Dean, listen to me...” Sam says eventually, his voice broken too, “you’ve got to tell her.” The older brother stares outside the window, watching the wind taunt the snow, shooting it across the night sky like razors. The fact that Sam doesn’t tell him that it’s going to be just fine, but instead chooses to offer advice on how to handle the final hours, states the obvious. “No. Maybe if I don’t, she’ll be able to keep throwing punches,” he refuses, the words coming out shaky. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Sam rephrases. “You need to tell her what we talked about in the car. You have to tell her that you’re in love with her.”

Again, silence as Dean bites his lip, moving the speaker away from his mouth slightly to make sure Sam doesn’t pick up on his quivering breath. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” he pressures. “She deserves to know the truth.” “She’s dying, Sam. I don’t think she wants to listen to some dude pouring his heart out. This isn’t about me,” Dean responds somewhat agitated. “You are not just ‘some dude’ to her, Dean! You have no idea, do you?” He can hear his younger brother sigh on the other side before he continues. “You’re not the only one I had long night conversations with. It’s a two way street, man.”

Struck by realization, Dean stares into the storm, eyes wide, mouth slightly opened. Is Sam telling him that this profound feeling is mutual? Sure, a part of him hoped it was. But living a hunter’s life didn’t allow him to feel that way. Sometimes he picked up on something, but he always thought of it as harmless flirting. Besides, she knows him. She knows him better than any girl he has ever come across. She knows about his inability to cope with sorrow and loss. She saw him wreck the trunk of his own car with a crowbar after his father’s death. She knows about the drinking, the urge to hit the liquor cabinet every time life gets rough. She knows about the many, many women, a girl in every town they passed through. He put her through silent-treatment, he raged at her when she confronted him with his habit to stuff up all his pain, grief and anger. How could she possibly love him back? “She’s in love with me?” he whispers in disbelief. “Yeah, head over heels,” Sam acknowledges. “She couldn’t stop talking about it.” Stunned, Dean runs his hand down his face, a mix of emotions knocking him over. If only he had known, maybe they could have made it work. Maybe, just maybe, they could have had something beautiful. “It would mean the world to her, Dean. Tell her.” He nods, even though Sam can’t see it. “Alright, I will.” A trace of a small smile forms on the corners of his mouth. He never knew he could feel so conflicted. Intense joy opposite an even greater grief. He only just became aware of her feelings for him and he’ll barely have time to act upon it. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam continues, sadder than a moment ago. “I really hoped you wouldn’t have to live through this.” Jessica Moore, the love of Sam’s life. She pops into Dean’s mind instantly. He met her once, when he broke into their home in the middle of the night to he pick up his little brother up and search for their father. The way Sam looked at her was almost foreign to him, Dean didn’t understand any of it. He sure does now. He also understands Sam’s desperate attempt to save her when Jess was burning on the ceiling. If anyone can relate to how defeated, hopeless and scared Dean feels right now, it’s his brother. “I know,” he sighs, appreciating his sympathy.

He turns away from the icy window to face her again. She stirs, restless by a fever-dream, but then she wakes up. Confused eyes scan the room for her companion. When they focus on him standing by the window, she settles. Not for long, though, because his facial aspects are almost out of character. Tears are shimmering on his bottom eyelashes, eyes filled with desperation. The always optimistic Dean Winchester, who counters every problem with either a joke or another way out, is looking at her as if the world is about to come crashing down. He still has the satellite phone pressed against his ear and she realizes it’s probably Sam on the other side. It’s then when it clicks in her mind and she understands what’s going on. “Bad news, huh?” she presumes, voice raspy.

Dean opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. The single tear that was still clinging to his eyelid comes down his cheek. It’s impossible for him to lie to her as he intended. She would see right through the deceit anyway, having the ability to read him like a book. Dean bites his tongue to keep back the false promises, his jaw flexing in the process. Not trusting his voice, he nods as he swallows apprehensively. Without words he is able to explain exactly what is happening. He would have given anything to tell her otherwise.

Y/N breaks her gaze away from him, her mouth slightly opened as it starts to sink in what this means: no one is coming to save her. Her breath hitches in her throat when she tries to breathe in deeply and she identifies it as panic immediately. ‘Calm down, slow breaths, you got this’, she tells herself. In all fairness, she saw it coming. Even when Dean remained hopeful, she felt the life slipping through her fingers. Her body has been whispering it in her ear, so has her common sense. “Is that Sam?” she ask softly. Again Dean nods and she reaches out for the phone. He hands it to his partner, after which he turns away and runs his hand down his face, wiping away the tears.

“Sammy, you there?” Immediately, her voice calling out for his brother, calling him Sammy, causes Dean to tear up again. No one calls Sam that, the youngest Winchester would stubbornly correct those who dare to use that nickname. Except for Dean, except for her. That’s how much she’s like family to the brothers. “Hey Y/N, it’s good to hear your voice,” Sam replies, having trouble keeping a steady tone. “Hanging in there?” “You know me; not going down without a fight,” she forces a smile, wearing her mask well. Dean has walked away slowly, his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he reaches the fireplace he leans against the warm stone shaft that runs up to the roof. He waits, listening, while trying to figure out how to deal the inevitable. “...So there’s no way you can reach us in time?” she asks, after listening to Sam’s explanation. “Y/N, I-I’m so sorry.…” Sam’s voice breaks. She nods, her eyes watering. “It’s okay, Sam. You did everything you could.” The one who is about to die, comforting the one who will live. It’s heartbreaking at least and Sam is touched by her attempt. “Who’s gonna watch Breaking Bad with me, huh?” Sam smiles, taking a little trip down Memory Lane in order to lighten the mood. “The big question is who’s gonna be my partner in crime in Vegas upstairs. I can’t count cards without my personal Einstein,” she chuckles through the sadness. It remains quiet for a few long seconds as both search for things to say. It’s the youngest Winchester who speaks first. His message is as sincere as they come. “I’m gonna miss you so, so much.”

Sam doesn’t mean to, but his words hit so hard, that she crumbles. The curtain falls and so do the tears. Her eyes seek Dean, who is watching her having one last conversation with her best friend. He knows that the dam is about to break, so he approaches her slowly and crouches down to level with the girl he cares for so much. Even though he is having a hard time himself, he puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it lightly, letting her know he’s right there. “I’ll miss you too,” she responds, her voice quavering. “Do me a favor, will ya? Take care of your brother for me?” Dean looks up and away, anything but in her eyes, because he knows it will destroy him. The knot in his stomach tightens and fresh tears roll down his face anyway. Breathing gets a little tougher, a constraint in his chest builds up. God, this hurts. “I will. You have my word,” Sam promises, unable to tie his emotions down. “Bye, Sammy.” “See you again, Y/N.”

Despite the tears glistening in her eyes, she smiles. Y/N cherishes the moment, then lets the air flow from your mouth and presses the red button. Dean takes the phone from her hand and lays it on the floor next to him, then faces the woman who has his heart. Numb and drained she stares at the fireplace that is barely spreading light anymore. The final words she just exchanged with Sam forces her to face the facts. God, she’s scared. She doesn’t want to die, not after everything that she missed out on saying. “I fucked up, Dean,” she whimpers. “Hey, now why would you say that?” he wonders, trying to read her. “I should’ve done things differently. I- I should’ve lived more, should’ve had more fun, worked less, maybe for once listened to that ticker in my chest,” she pauses, catching her breath when panic causes her to ramble. “It’s just that - that now my time is up, it becomes so clear how bad I fucked up. I just, I wish I….”

The words flow out together with soft sobs until she can’t continue anymore, so he hushes her softly. Where in the past Dean would have hit the breaks the moment he felt the urge to show affection past the borders of a platonic relationship, he does the exact opposite this time. Dean takes her hand in his, letting their fingers entwine with each other. Somewhat surprised Y/N casts her gaze down at their hands, then up into Dean’s eyes. His touch sends a warm sensation up her arm and spreads through her entire body. God, does it feel wonderful. A warmth she didn’t think she’d feel again since the approach of the end has left her feeling stone cold. It’s only now that she notices how he leans into her, until his forehead rests against hers. A quivering sigh leaves her lips as she squeezes her eyes shut, moved by his tenderness.

After some time, she whispers, “You know what?” She creates a little distance, cupping his face and rubbing her thumb through his scruff. His pupils bounce between hers, taking in every feature. For a second her eyes light up, ignited by the connection between the two of them. “Of all the people, dead or alive, that I could spend my final moments with, I’m glad it’s you,” she says, contented. “I want you to know that I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A smile spreads across Dean’s face, creating lines that tell exactly how much those words mean to him. She mirrors his expression as he reaches up to sweep her hair from her face, then traces her jawline with his fingertips. The look that he gives her is unlike any gaze he’s given her before, because this time, he doesn’t hold back.

Dean leans in, inching closer and about to do the one thing he has been longing for. “I should have done this a long time ago.” He kisses her, in the most loving, gentle and yet passionate way possibly imaginable. Only now he realizes how desperate he was for this moment, how long he waited. How long he kept torturing himself by convincing his heart with his mind that he could never have her, that she would never love him.

Y/N lets it wash over her and returns this symbol of his love by pulling him deeper into the kiss with the little strength that she has left. Dean takes his sweet time to let her feel how much she means to him, his lips lingering on hers. Then he slowly breaks the connection, cherishing the moment as he rests his forehead against hers. His eyes remain closed, but eventually he allows himself to gaze at the universe in her eyes. Overcome she stares back, witnessing a shade of green somewhere between hidden rainforest and soothing emerald. Suddenly, she feels it. An urge, the words on the tip of her tongue waiting for her mouth to open. Of course she’s scared of rejection, of the aftermath, but she doesn’t let it win. No, for once she says exactly what her heart tells her to say. Then the one man who she never expected to say it out loud, beats her to it.

“I love you, y’know that?” Stunned she stares at him, tears welling up again. She didn’t know. She hoped, she dreamed, but she didn’t know. God, she wishes she knew! She would have spent her time differently, she would have stayed by his side every minute, every second. She would have been more careful. She would have told him how much she loves him so many times that maybe one day he might even start loving himself instead of remaining hateful for the wrongs and mistakes he made. Now might be a good time to let him know. Better late than never. “I love you, too,” she tells him.

The realization of being loved is a beautiful thing to witness. The moment of disbelief, then astonishment, followed by a gratitude that grows to a volume that causes his eyes to pour over. It’s astounding that despite the grim future, he is able to shed a few tears of happiness. She loves him, how amazing is that? “We’ve got piss poor timing, though,” he remarks, making her chuckle.

The comment was meant to be funny, to bring back that bright smile and those bright eyes once more. It works, but then it also states the awful truth. This story barely began and it’s already coming to an end. And so her smile fades as she comes back down from her cloud. The rush of her amazing moment with Dean was coursing through her body like ecstasy, but its effect fade fast. It’s beginning to sink in how exhausted she truly is, how much of an effort it is just to sit upright. Breathing is becoming a mission and the pain from her leg has spread through her entire body. “I could use that drink right now,” she says, hinting at the bottle of moonshine.

‘Let's disinfect that wound first and get desperate later, okay?’ That was Dean’s response when she asked for the drink last night. That they’re desperate would be an understatement, so with a little reluctance he hands her the liquor. Letting her drink the alcohol feels like giving up in a way, but he helps her take a sip nonetheless when she is unable to heave the bottle to her mouth on her own. Just a sip is all it takes to trigger a cough. “It’s not Jack…” she admits. “But it’ll do.” Dean sets the bottle down and scoots up against the wall next to her, slipping his arm behind her back. Tired, she rests her head against his chest after he pulls her close. His steady heartbeat drums against her ear as he caresses her shoulder. It feels so good to finally let her guard down around Dean, to be close to him without having to be afraid to show too much affection.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispers. Dean nuzzles his nose in her hair, trying to comfort her with his touch. She can’t see, though, that he has closed his eyes, trying to prevent himself from falling apart. “Me neither,” he responds, his voice soft. “We still have some time, right?” She nods, weakened, although she can’t say for sure if ‘some time’ can be expressed in hours or minutes.

Oh, boy... I know, it hurts. If you wanna rant, cry or scream at me, go right ahead and hit up my inbox. Stay tuned for the finale soon!

Read the final part here!

Follow forever:

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cheekybluefox · 5 years ago

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Pandora’s Box - Chapter One

When Pandora stepped into the familiar Defense against he dark arts classroom, she couldn’t help the grin on her face. It felt so good to be back at Hogwarts, and not that she’d admit it to anyone, but it felt so good to be back in class. Thankfully, they had a pretty decent teacher this year; but anything was an upgrade from Lockhart, even Snape. The desks were either gone or pushed to the sides of the classroom and at the front stood a shaking wardrobe, having come from a wizarding family, Pan knew exactly what this was, and he didn’t expect to be learning about boggarts quite so soon.

“Now...” Professor Lupin had made sure to wait for the majority if not all of the class before starting, “Would anyone care to have a guess at what this is?”

“That’s a boggart, that.”

“Correct Miss Brown.” Professor Lupin smiled at Lavender. “And can any of you tell me what it looks like?”

At that moment, Seamus and Dean pushed their way over to Pandora.

“Alright Pan? Hermione was telling Ron and Harry you were missing from your bed the other night, you okay?” Seamus asked.

She nodded with a somewhat cheeky smile, “Oh you know me, just popped out for a midnight stroll!”

“Mr Finnegan, Miss Argent? Anything you’d like to share?” After the two teens shook their heads, Lupin continued, “Very well, you were saying Miss Granger?”

“Nobody knows, it’s a shape shifter. It’ll take the form of whatever a particular person fears the most. It’s what makes them soo..”

“So terrifying, yes.” Lupin finished.

“Fucking hate them, me like.” Pan muttered, earning a quite chuckle from Seamus and Dean

“Thankfully, there is a quick and simple charm to rid them. We’ll practice saying it, wands away for now, please! Now, all together,...Ridikilous!”

“This class is ridiculous.” Malfoy spat.

“So’s your face.” Seamus snapped back.

The class repeated the charm back to Lupin several times, and he then called Neville to the front, he gently took Neville by the shoulders and lead him to stand in front of the wardrobe. Knowing Neville as well she did, Pan couldn’t help but feel slightly bad as she knew Neville hated taking part in demonstrations, but also because she knew that his worst fear was their potions master and knew that this would be somewhat amusing.

Professor Lupin asked Neville what his greatest fear was, and Neville confessed to the entire class, not that it was such a big surprise to anyone, Lupin only chuckled and agreed that Professor Snape could, indeed, be scary. Lupin magically unlocked the wardrobe which shook quite a bit more before Professor Snape stepped out. For a moment, Neville stood in fear, and as the Snape-boggart stepped closer to him, Neville shouted the charm and watched as the boggart stumbled back and transformed. The entire class, even the Slytherins though they’d never admit it, erupted into laughter as they looked upon the boggart that still resembled Professor Snape, though now he was dressed in an ugly, green, velvet coat and long skirt. He was carrying a large red hand bag and wearing an atrocious vulture hat.

Within seconds, everyone was pushing themselves into a sloppy line, eager to take on the boggart themselves. Next was Ron and a few people screamed as the boggart morphed into a large spider, it wouldn’t be until later when they spoke but Parvati swore she heard Ron whining at the sight. Ron lifted his wand and shouted the charm, within moments, the spider was falling over itself as it tried and failed miserably as upon its legs were roller skates. Next, Parvati and for her it transformed into a big jack-in-the-box, and Seamus shouted,

“That’s scarier then the snake!”

Normally, when practicing spells, Lupin would prefer them to things seriously, but he understood, if there ever was a time to joke around it was now. And the shouts and jeers and jokes from their peers just boosted morale, giving the students courage to step forward. He smiled at his students and watched Dean step forward. The boggart changed into a disembodied hand which began to crawl around the classoom; Dean stared in disbelief before muttering the charm and laughed as the hand jumped and fell into a mouse trap, trying in vain to pull the fingers from the trap. Seamus strode up cockily, and the trapped hand turned into a banshee. Just as the monster opened its mouth to screech, Seamus shouted the charm and no sound came. From the banshee that is, it’s long claw like fingers circled round its throat, confused. Seamus smiled, and began to walk over to Dean but turned to Pan as he did,

“Good Luck.”

Pandora gulped and stepped forward, she was going to need that luck. The boggart seemed confused for a moment, twisting and turning; before a part of it dropped to the floor and took form of muddy foot prints. Then the bodies of her grandfather, aunt and uncles to shape, their faces white and their throats ripped out.Pan was staring so intently as them, that she barely heard someone scream behind her. It wasn’t until she felt a familar glow on her face, did she look up. The glowing orb nearly entrancing her, before she ripped her eyes away and towards Lupin who was surveying the gruesome scene in front of them. Lupin looked up, and stepped towards her while speaking to her in a gentle voice,

“It’s alright Miss Argent, you can do it.”

Slowly, she raised her wand, and in a shaky voice , she shouted, “RIDIKILOUS!”

The glowing orb grew bigger and bigger before bursting and showering the scene in paint and confetti . Not that Pan had really stayed to watch. She had considered staying with Dean and Seamus, but after a quick glance over her shoulder to see a dementor, Pandora decided that she was so done with this class. She grabbed her bag and ran straight to the girls room.

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

Lupin sat at his desk in shock; todays’ lesson hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Harry and Pandora had really given him something to think about. Harry, well, Remus was sure he could deal with that; just as he was sure that Harry would seek him out soon. What really worried Lupin though, was Pandora. After teaching for a few months now, he had really gotten to know his students. He already knew that Snape scared Neville, and that Ron was scared of spiders after seeing him nearly scream as one crawled onto his desk. When Remus looked back upon Pandora’s boggart, he knew it went deeper that some may originally think. Many people feared loosing their families, it was nothing uncommon, but the details in the scene had worried him. The muddy prints on the floor had been human but closer to the family they were paw prints; along with the teeth marks on their necks and the sliver knife in her grandfathers’ hand...Well, Remus figured that she was scared that werewolves would kill her family.The Argents were famed for their dealings with werewolves, and at first he believed that perhaps he had been fed harsh information about werewolves all being evil and eating families up. That changed when he looked at her, saw her eyes fixed on the moon and he registered the fear on her face.

Remus knew that fear all too well, he knew what it was like to go through the transformations and now his mind went back to a conversation he’d had with Dumbledore back before the school year had even started; it was part of the reason that he had taken the job. The headmaster had informed him that one of the students was a werewolf, and whilst he was unsure whether the student had much contact with other people alike, he would rather that Professor Lupin stayed within his rooms with the aid of Wolfsbane to calm him. Lupin had been told that whilst the student also took Wolfsbane, they would either go down that familiar route to the shrieking shack or sometimes would stay within the castle, in the room of requirement. Lupin had wanted to help them, and now that he knew the identity of said student, he sat at his desk, spinning and coin and unsure of what to do.

He desperately wanted to help her, to let her know that she’s not going through any of this alone. He needed to speak with her, but knew he should, at least speak with Dumbledore before he did anything. Lupin sipped his tea, and realized that an odd feeling of protection was overcoming him. Sure, he’d been round people like him before but very rarely had he been around children like this. Remus felt so bad for her, before the rules and laws had changed, her family were some of the best werewolf hunters out there. He’d even heard rumors that they were still up to their old tricks of capturing and torturing werewolves. He could only hope that they had taken pity on her, as she was their kin, and they didn’t hurt her. Remus could remember when he was first bitten, how it felt like he was stepping on egg shells with his parents. They had feared him, even when it was not a full moon, but with time, they had grown to understand that he was still their son. They understood him and tried to help them as best as they could before they died.

As the coin coin stopped spinning and fell down onto his desk, Remus pushed himself up and made his way to the headmasters office. This was an issue that couldn’t wait.

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

Hope you guys enjoyed this! It’s a story I published onto my ff.ne account but they I don’t really use that platform anymore, so I’m working on moving my old stories onto Tumblr, and maye Ao3

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #prisoner of azkaban #remus lupin #oc insert #pandora #pandora's box #not a love story #teen drama

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dumbledearme · 6 years ago

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chapter forty-five—the fate we make

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act V — Walking On Water

Part VIII — We're off on a mission, we're tough; in good condition. We're short but standing tall. No fear!

Thalia said the Titan wanted to see Andy under the flag of truce, that he had a message from Kronos. Andy didn't seem to have a choice. The flag was as big as a soccer field and was carried by a thirty-foot-tall giant with bright blue skin.

"A Hyperborean," Thalia said. "The giants of the north. It's a bad sign that they sided with Kronos. They're usually peaceful."

"You've met them?" Andy asked.

"Mmm. There's a big colony in Alberta. I'm telling you, you do not want to get into a snowball fight with those guys."

With the giant, came a half-blood in armor, an empousa demon and a tall man in a tuxedo. The group walked leisurely toward the them.

"The tux dude is the Titan?" Andy guessed. Grover nodded.

The Titan stepped forward. He was taller than an average human. His black hair was tied in a ponytail. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and the skin in his face and arms was covered in scratches. "Andy Jackson," he greeted. "It's a great honor."

"Why? Are you a fan or something?"

"I think he was only being polite," Thalia pointed out.

"Well, he can-" Andy caught herself when she realized the half-blood was Ethan Nakamura. The son of a bitch. His nose looked like a squashed tomato which made her feel a little better. "Oh, you shouldn't have come here," Andy told him. "Now I'll be forced to hurt you."

Ethan glared at her, unsure if she was being serious.

"To business," the Titan got between them. "I am Prometheus."

With difficulty, Andy tore her eyes away from Ethan and shook the other guy's hand. "The fire-stealer guy who was chained to a rock with the vultures?"

Prometheus winced. "Please, don't mention the vultures. But yes, I stole fire from the gods and gave it to your ancestors. In return, the ever merciful Zeus had me chained to a rock and tortured for all eternity."

"And how-"

"How did I get free? Hercules did that, eons ago. So you see, I have a soft spot for heroes. Some of you can be quite civilized."

"Unlike the one beside you," she commented.

"Oh, demons aren't so bad," Prometheus eyed the empousa. "You just have to keep them well fed."

"I meant him," Andy specified pointing at Ethan and thinking of ways to make him suffer.

Prometheus smiled as if he too didn't like Ethan but was too polite to say anything. "Andy Jackson, let us parley." Prometheus laced his fingers. He looked earnest, kindly, and wise. The idea of fighting him made Andy sad. "Andy, your position is weak. You know you can't stop another assault."

"We can do this all day."

Prometheus looked pained. "Andy, I'm the Titan of forethought. I know what is going to happen."

"Also the Titan of crafty counsel," Grover put in. "Emphasis on crafty."

Prometheus shrugged. "True enough, satyr. But I supported the gods in the last war. I told Kronos: 'You don't have the strength. You'll lose.' And I was right. So you see, I know how to pick the winning side. This time, I'm backing Kronos."

"Because Zeus chained you to a rock," Thalia guessed.

"Partly, yes. I won't deny I want revenge. It was very upsetting what I went through. But that's not the only reason I'm supporting Kronos. It's the wisest choice. I'm here because I thought you might listen to reason. We have you surrounded. We know your numbers. We outnumber you twenty to one."

"You also have a spy."

Prometheus smiled apologetically. "At any rate, our forces are growing daily. Tonight Kronos will attack. You will be overwhelmed, Andy. You've fought bravely, but there's just no way you can hold all of Manhattan. You'll be forced to retreat to the Empire State Building. There you'll be destroyed. I have seen this. It will happen."

Andy shook her head. "I won't let that happen. Our future isn't set. I can change it. We can all change it."

"Understand, Andy. You are re-fighting the Trojan War here. Patterns repeat themselves in history. They reappear just as monsters do. A great siege. Two armies. And you are Troy. Do you know what happened to the Trojans?"

Andy felt again, that fear creeping inside of her. But she wouldn't let him see it. "You're going to cram a wooden horse into the elevator at the Empire State Building? Good luck with that, buddy."

Prometheus smiled. "Troy was completely destroyed, Andy. You don't want that to happen here. Stand down, and New York will be spared. Your forces will be granted amnesty. I will personally assure your safety. Let Kronos take Olympus. Who cares? Typhon will destroy the gods anyway."

"You expect me to believe that Kronos would spare us? That he has even a drop of mercy in his blood?"

"All he wants is Olympus," Prometheus promised. "The might of the gods is tied to their seats of power. When Kronos destroys Olympus, the gods will fade. They will become so weak they will be easily defeated. Kronos would rather do this while Typhon has the lost. But make no mistake, the best you can do is slow us down. The day after tomorrow, Typhon arrives in New York, and you will have no chance at all. The gods and Mount Olympus will still be destroyed, but it'll be much messier. Much, much worse for you and your city. Either way, the Titans will rule."

"I serve Artemis," Thalia said angrily. "The Hunters will fight to our last breath. Andy, you're not seriously going to listen to this slimeball, are you?"

"You both have courage," Prometheus said. "But the courageous die too. We need not be enemies. I have always been a helper of mankind."

"That's a load of shit," Thalia said. "When mankind first sacrificed to the gods, you tricked them into giving you the best portion. You gave us fire to annoy the gods, not because you cared about us."

Prometheus shook his head. "You don't understand. I helped shape your nature. I have been whispering in man's ear since the beginning of your existence. I represent your curiosity, your sense of exploration, your inventiveness. Help me save you, Andy. Do this, and I will give mankind a new gift – a new revelation that will move you as far forward as fire did. You can't make that kind of advance under the gods. They would never allow it. Bu this could be a new golden age for you. You know in your heart that Titans and their offspring aren't all bad. You've met Calypso. She made you see."

"That was different-"

"How? Much like me, she did nothing wrong, and yet she was exiled forever simply because she was Atlas's daughter. We are not your enemies. Don't let the worst happen," he pleaded. "We offer you peace."

Andy looked back at Ethan Nakamura. "Peace... If we take this deal, you don't get your revenge. You don't get to kill us all. Isn't that what you want?"

His good eye flared. "All I want is respect, Jackson. The gods never gave me that. You wanted me to go to your stupid camp, spend my time crammed into the Hermes cabin because I'm not important? Not even recognized?"

"People make mistakes. Gods make mistakes too. You ask us to respect vengeance?"

"Nemesis stands for balance! When people have too much good luck, she tears them down."

"Is that why she took your eye? Were you just too damn lucky?"

"It was payment," he growled. "In exchange, she swore to me that one day I would tip the balance of power. I would bring the minor gods respect. An eye was a small price to pay."

"Mother of the year."

"At least she keeps her word, unlike the Olympians. She always pays her debts – good or evil."

Andy punched him so hard in the face he fell backwards. "I saved your life! You son of a bitch, I saved your life! And you repaid me by raising Kronos and hurting Anthony! You want someone who keeps their word? Well, you got me, Ethan Nakamura. And I swear I will watch you die!" As soon as the words left her mouth, Andy regretted them. She knew she was just being mean, that she was just angry.

Although the fear that crossed Ethan's good eye kind of made it worthwhile. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, but Prometheus stopped him. "We're on a diplomatic mission." The Titan studied Andy. "It bothers you what happened to Luke," he decided. "Hestia didn't show you the full story. Perhaps if you understood..." He reached out. Thalia cried in warning, but before Andy could react, the Titan touched her forehead.

Suddenly she was back in May Castellan's living room. Thalia sat on the table while Ms Castellan bandaged her wounded leg. Anthony held her hand. Hermes and Luke stood apart in the living room.

"Why show yourself now?" Luke demanded. "All these years I've been calling to you, praying you'd show up, and nothing. You left me with her!"

"Do not dishonor her," Hermes warned. "Your mother did the best she could. As for me, I could not interfere with your path. The children of the gods must find their own way."

"So it was for my own good?" Luke cried. "Growing up on the streets, fending for myself, fighting monsters?"

"You're my son," Hermes said. "I knew you had the ability. When I was only a baby, I-"

"I am not a god! Just once, you could've said something. You could've helped when... when she was having one of her fits, shaking me and saying crazy things about my fate. When I used to hide in the closet so she wouldn't find me with those... those glowing eyes! Did you even care that I was scared? Did you even know when I finally ran away?"

Ms Castellan was singing aimlessly, but it was obvious the others could hear them.

"Luke, I care very much," Hermes said slowly, "but gods must not interfere directly in mortal affairs. It is one of our Ancient Laws. Especially when your destiny..." his voice trailed off and Andy finally understood. Hermes knew; he had known all along. He knew what would happen to his son and he did nothing to stop it.

"What?" Luke asked. "What about my destiny?"

"You should not have come back," Hermes muttered. "It only upsets you both. I'll speak with Chiron and have him send a satyr to help you get to camp."

"We're doing fine without help," Luke growled. "Now, what is my destiny?"

"My son," he said, "I'm the god of travelers, the god of roads. If I know anything, I know that you must walk your own path, make your own choices, even though it tears my heart."

"You don't love me."

"I do love you. Just... go to camp. I will see that you get a quest soon. You will get a chance to be a great hero before-"

"Before what?" Luke's voice was trembling now. "What did my mom see that made her like this? What's going to happen to me? If you love me, tell me!"

Hermes expression tightened. "I cannot."

"Then you don't care!" Luke yelled.

Finally, May stopped her singing. "Luke? Is that you? Is my boy alright?"

"I'm fine. I have a new family now. I don't need either of you."

"I'm your father," Hermes insisted.

"A father is supposed to be around. I've never even met you. Thalia, Tony, come on! We're leaving!"

"My boy, don't go!" May Castellan called after him. "I have your lunch ready!"

Luke stormed out the door, Thalia and Anthony scrambling after him. May Castellan tried to follow, but Hermes held her back. She collapsed in his arms and began to shake. Her eyes opened – glowing green. "My son," she hissed. "Danger. Terrible fate!"

"I know, my love," Hermes said sadly. "Believe me, I know."

The image faded. Prometheus pulled his hand away from Andy's forehead. Her face was wet with tears. She had to focus not to throw up.

"Andy?" Thalia called. "What... what was that?"

Prometheus nodded sympathetically. "Appalling, is it not? The gods know what is to come, and yet they do nothing, even for their children. How long did it take for them to tell you your prophecy, Andy Jackson? Don't you think your father knows what will happen to you?"

Andy held back a sob.

"Andy," Grover warned, "he's playing with your mind. Trying to make you upset." He could read her emotions so he probably knew Prometheus was succeeding at that.

"Do you really blame your friend Luke?" the Titan asked her. "What about you, Andy? Will you be controlled by your fate? Kronos offers you a much better deal."

Andy clenched her fists. "No. Tell Kronos... You tell him to call of his attack. Tell him to leave Luke's body and return to the pits of Tartarus. If he chooses to continue this war, then let him know we're right here. We'll be our own heroes. And we will write our own stories - to death or to victory. That is my message."

The empousa snarled but Prometheus just sighed. "If you change your mind," he said, "I have a gift for you." A Greek vase appeared in Andy's hands. The ceramic lid was fastened with a leather harness.

Groven whimpered. Thalia gasped. "That's not-"

"Yes," Prometheus said. "You recognize it. This belonged to my sister-in-law. Pandora."

"Pandora's box?" Andy asked.

"I don't know how this box business started. It was never a box. It was a pithos, a storage jar. I suppose Pandora's pithos doesn't have the same ring to it. Nevertheless, she opened this jar, which contained most of the demons that now haunt mankind – fear, death, hunger, sickness."

"Don't forget me," the empousa purred.

"Indeed," Prometheus conceded. "The first empousa was also trapped in this jar, released by Pandora. But what I find curious about the story is how Pandora always gets the blame. She is punished for being curious. The gods would have you believe that this is the lesson: mankind should not explore. They should not ask questions. They should do what they are told. In truth, Andy, this jar was a trap designed by Zeus and the other gods. It was revenge on me and my entire family. The gods knew she would open the jar. They were willing to punish the entire race of humanity along with us." Prometheus tapped the lid of Pandora's jar. "Only one spirit remained inside when Pandora opened it."

"Hope," Andy whispered.

Prometheus looked pleased. "Yes. Elpis, the Spirit of Hope, would not abandon humanity. Hope does not leave without being given permission. She can only be released by a child of man. I give you this as a reminder of what the gods are like. Keep Elpis, if you wish. But if you decide that you have seen enough destruction, enough futile suffering, then open the jar. Let Elpis go. Give up Hope, and I will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient. He will spare the survivors." He stood and left, the others following him.

"What did he show you?" Thalia demanded. Reluctantly, Andy told her. "Ah... Yeah, that was a bad night," she admitted.

"What happened to Ms Castellan?"

"I don't know. Luke told us about the strange things she would say. What caused it... I have no idea. If he ever knew, he never told me."

"But Hermes knew," Andy said. "Something caused May to see parts of Luke's future, and Hermes knew what she had seen – that he would turn into Kronos."

Thalia frowned. "You can't be sure of that. Prometheus was manipulating you. Hermes did love Luke. I could tell just by looking at his face. And Hermes was there that night because he was checking up on May, taking care of her. He wasn't all bad."

"But it isn't right. Luke was just a kid. Hermes never helped him, never stopped him from running away."

"Andy," Thalia said darkly, "this is exactly why I joined the Hunters. It's easier to control our feelings, you know? Love... it stops being so overwhelming. We all have tough things to deal with. All demigods do. And like you said: people make mistakes. Mothers, fathers. Gods. But Luke... he made terrible choices. And he made them on his own. Nobody forced him."

"So you don't love him anymore?"

"Don't say that. I will never stop-" she stopped herself. "If you're worried about who loves who... Well, if Tony... I mean, if he has to face Luke in battle, I don't know if he can do it. From the moment those two met, they've had a connection. They don't share the same blood, but they are brothers. After that night... After we left his mom's house? Luke was never the same. He got reckless and moody, like he was trying to prove something. By the time Grover found us... well, part of the reason we had so much trouble was because Luke wouldn't be careful. He wanted to pick a fight with every monster we crossed. And Tony... he didn't think that was a problem. He likes recklessness, just look at you."

"Who are you calling reck-"

"Those two together..." Thalia continued. "They wanted to be heroes. All I'm saying is... don't fall into the same trap. Luke has given himself to Kronos. We can't afford to be soft on him just because we love him."

Slowly, Andy nodded. "Alright. I hear you."

"I'm going to check on the Hunters, then get some more sleep before nightfall. You should crash too."

"No, I don't want to. I'll only have bad dreams."

"I know, believe me," Thalia looked down. "But there's no telling when you'll get another chance to sleep. It's going to be a long night. Maybe our last night."

"Do me a favor then," Andy handed her the jar. "Lock this in the hotel vault, will you? Hope isn't going anywhere. Not while I'm around."

Thalia smiled. "You got it."

Andy watched her go then found the nearest bed and passed out.

#andromeda #andy jackson #anthony chase #andony #genderbend #fanfic #dfcrosas #child of land and sea #walking on water #fem percy jackson

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thatshighlyoffensive · 7 years ago

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THAT’S HIGHLY OFFENSIVE: THE SAG AWARDS 2018

So much pink! So many sparkles! it was actually pretty hard for me to be offended by this year’s SAG awards, but don’t worry- there were plenty of people who wanted to make it easy on me... Let the skewering begin!

Danielle Brooks- I think if her hair had been left wild and naturally beautiful, this would have been my favorite look of the night. Her dress is amazing! She looks like a badass, villainous ruby slipper! Or the glam version of the villain in Never-ending Story part 2. I love alllllll of it.

Chrissy Metz- i know it’s not gonna be cool for me to say this, but… let’s kill her off This Is Us so she’s free to star in my new Lifetime Fiction Made for TV Movie, “Violet Beauregarde: After the Gum, Before the Juicing.”

Giuliana Rancid- First things first: She looks like the child of Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jay Gatsby and the blonde vulture from the cartoon “Jungle Book.” I’m gonna be honest- I’m having a hard time coming up with new or interesting ways to call her an ungodly shade of orange or the Queen of the Antz. Because while she will always remain those things, she’s constantly finding new ways to offend me and the rest of America by being the most obtuse yet anorexic hymenoptera on the red carpet.

Abbie Cornish- Modeling the newest addition to the Elle Fanning & American Girl collaboration with Frederick’s of Hollywood.

Allison Williams: Some college sophomore who became anorexic in preparation for her Chicago audition.

Sterling K. Brown’s wife (who they keep trying to pretend/cram down our throats is an actress): You’re at the Spelling Bee and your word is DOILY.

Alison Brie: While I’m not obsessed with it, I love how her dress coordinates with her show. It’s fun, it’s eighties, it’s GLOWing.

Niecey Nash- No one cares, except me, but you stole my costume from when I played the Charo originated role of Frog Momma in “The Swan Princess.”

Halle Berry: I kind of love everything about this. It’s pink and berry and sparkly and has black tulle, so LOVE. But i cannot and will not with that My Little Pony Tail. You’re better than that, Halle. Shave that shit off like you did after David Justice!

Laurie Metcalf: If Angelina Jolie had worn this, my head would have exploded. You’re borderline just as devastating bc i LOVE YOU. Well played, sir.

Mary j Blige is clearly on her way to a ballet themed MET Gala dressed in Kmart’s Black Swan collection…

Only Taryn Manning would put a white, ankle strapped, Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls heel with an elegant, black, Audrey Hepburn-esque dress. Because ALL HER CHARACTERS.

Reese Witherspoon looks like a beautiful emerald earring. But when did she get that gap in her teeth?? @jenniferhintonmarion

Saiorse Ronan- If not for the bolo tie wrapped around your waist, i’d say you are a delightful version of Audrey’s character in Funny Face guest starring in a Moondreamers Valentine’s Day special.

Tracee Ellis Ross- At first I thought this was pants. I wasn’t going to like it then and I’m sad to say I shan’t be liking it any more upon realizing it’s a dress. It does nothing for her body and those shoes resemble something Angela Sephton purchased from Gadzooks circa 2004. Maybe if you get your pay raise, you can afford more attractive clothing.

Kate Hudson- The first time i saw this mess, i said to my friend @loganyost “It’s like Samantha the Victorian American Girl doll raped a care bear.” And I stand by that. #whattheactalfuck

Lupita Nyongo- On TV, that dress is PERFECTION. In photos though, it kind of resembles a silver tooth that’s gathered some Oreo around the gum line…

i didn’t think anyone could be as boring as Alexis Bledel at the Golden Globes (or in any role she’s ever played)… Olivia Munn has proven me wrong. #snooze

Brie Larson matched her eyeshadow to her dress. I love all the colors, but I do not love all the things.

Greta Gerwig: i freaking love everything about this. The color (which is giving me major Nicole Kidman in Dior circa 1997 vibes), the shape, the way she looks in the shape, the makeup that works with it all… LOVE.

Why is Molly Sims at the SAG awards? And why is she dressed as a saloon stripper named Cerulean Sarsaparilla???

Nicole Kidman- This is what you look like with the flu?!?!?!?!? i die. This looks like a chic, ruby-encrusted trash bag with a SJP shoulder flower and i love all of it.

Allison Janney came dressed as a SAG statue tonight, manifesting a win. And it worked. And I couldn’t be happier. Her performance in “I, Tonya” made started my year off RIGHT.

Susan Sarandon’s dress is what i want to own in every single color and fabric and have it be the only thing i ever wear to awards shows. And the sunglasses? Does she think she’s actually Bette Davis? I’m fine with it.

Did all the females in the ‘This Is Us’ cast decide to dress in the same shade of blueberry for a reason? Did they think this was the blue version of all black everyone pulled at the Golden Globes? That being said, I definitely think Mandy Moore takes the prize for Best Use of Cobalt, 2018.

Aside from the cheap looking hem on Margot Robbie’s dress, this may be my favorite look of the night. She looks like an Ice Capades Barbie at the black tie gala on the eve of her big skate and i love allll of it.

Dakota fanning ALSO looks like a Barbie, but the #myfirstbarbie version.

Marisa Tomei- Perfection, as always. The ultimate modern bombshell. Pink. Glitter. Yes.

Kristen Bell: Great job as the hostess of the evening. HOWEVER, on the red carpet, she just reminded me to pick up medication for my next UTI.

Holly Hunter: Why am I so obsessed with this? Is it because you are one of my favorite actresses of all time AND you happen to play a fellow ECU alum in your last amazing film, The Big Sick? Is it because there are pockets? I guess we’ll never know.

Connie Britton: Although I cannot forgive your latest role as a 911 operator (even if it is in a Ryan Murphy show), I am obviously obsessed with your pink, sparkly dress! It doesn’t fit even remotely like a dream, but i repeat: PINK AND SPARKLY. If your hair was blonde, the dress actually fit and you had red star earrings with a holographic fairy godmother on the other end, you’d be Jem.

Mary Steenburgen’s dress? Great. The color, the fit, it’s all working. I cannot, however, condone that HAIR! It’s like the brunette Deborah Rush spontaneously cut bangs so she could replace Jeri Blank in the Flatpoint High production of Chicago.

Omg Laura Linney- You look like some sort of beautiful pink bird in a cage in Barbie’s dream house. C’est magnifique.

ALRIGHT Y’ALL... I’D WRITE MORE, BUT FRANKLY, I’VE BEEN DRINKING WINE ALL DAMN DAY AND IT’S TIME TO GO THE PINK SATIN TO BED. LOVE YOU AND THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!

#screen actors guild awards #sag awards #sagawards #sag #fashionpolice #eonline #giulianarancic #kristenbell #bullying #thatshighlyoffensive #shamblesinc #shambles #celebrities #redcarpet

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not-recovering-internet-add-blog · 8 years ago

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Hey, starting a new DP story here, and want to get a preview of it out to you guys! DP AU

Summary:

After staying in the cemetery a little longer than he should one night, Danny is attacked. Now he isn’t sure where he fall on the “Alive or Dead” scale. Maybe between the “Living dead” and the “Dead” sections? Who knows? His kidnappers don’t. He sure e only thing he knows for sure is that he isn’t anywhere close to what you’d call “Alive”. (NO PP cause it sucks…heh) .

Now on to the show!

Hey everyone! I’m posting this as my first story since I shut down my last profile back in 14’. (It was bad, like watt-pad level writing bad). If you want to Beta, send me a PM, I’ll get with you. Also, I’m open for Ideas, send me what you think should happen. If its good, I’ll write it. Finally to clear some shit up. Danny is 19 when this takes place, No PP (cause it sucked balls). Thanks for Reading-THE DARK FABRIC SATIN

The night that started it all was a cold November Day, The 29th to be exact. It had been raining the past four days so when the clouds cleared, Tucker Foley and Sam Manson had driven over to their best friends Danny’s house. For both the reason that they hadn’t seen Danny since the rain started, and because the Fentons probably still had some leftovers from Thanksgiving. That night a cold wind blew through the city and everyone with any sense to them stayed inside by the fireplace. Except Danny, the Fenton’s son, who was walking on his way home from a snack run to the corner store. The cold hadn’t bother him in the last five years.

He had just rounded the corner onto their street when he felt the blast, and the thunderous boom of his home, and everyone inside, going up in flames.

They had died watching a movie “The Incredibles”, about a family of superheros, not unlike themselves. Of course, two of them weren’t family per se, but might of well have been with how often they could be found at the home. They were the town Ghost Guard, having given up the title of hunters after their son had come out to them as the half-ghost super hero of the Town. Phantom.

A electrical fire from a malfunctioning prototype reacting with a nearby ecto ranium battery. A chain reaction explosions vaporizing the house, and everything in it instantly. They had felt no pain.

Danny was another story. His obsession had been protection, with an emphasis on his family. The second he felt the blest, a pain as intense as when he first half died coursed through him. He knew the second thier deaths occurred. Clutching his chest and letting out a pained cry, he fell to his knees, and as his vision faded, he heard the sirens of the fire trucks and ambulances, responding to the explosion of his home, and everything he had loved with it.

Time Skip- 12 days.

“And in recent news, the sole survivor of last week’s tragedy has woken up today. Daniel James Fenton, who had been walking home when the explosion occurred. He’s in the hospital stabilizing after what paramedics described as "Shock so intense it stopped his heart”. The Funeral for the Fenton family, Tucker Foley, and Samantha Mason is planned to be held in exactly a month at the-“

Danny didn’t let the newswoman finish her sentence, flicking off the television before any more could be heard.

He refused to believe it. He REFUSED. They weren’t dead. They COULDN’t be dead. As he sat there in the Hospital Bed, he promised himself.

I won’t cry. I won’t cry. He repeated this mantra over and over in his head. Danny sat there, staring at the white wall for what seemed to be hours.

The Masons and the Foleys were his rock through the rest of the week. They, despite being in grieving themselves, recognised that this boy, no, man needed them for them to be strong. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had brought him cookies, freshly baked chocolate chip, every day since he had woken up. The Masons had done their own part as well, using part of their fortune to pay a few doctors and nurses to believe that "his abnormal Temperature, Blood Composition, and Heart Rate were the result the the ecto-radiation of his parent’s work”, despite that ecto-radiation wasn’t a real thing any of them knew to exist.

Both sets of parents had been privy to his condition, figuring it out after all three of the children had been caught talking about their late night activities when the Fenton’s had walked in, and were all to aware of his obsession.

Danny, they feared, may soon become the next victim of this tragedy if they weren’t careful. They had to be strong for him. He was the only thing they had left of their children, and they weren’t ready to go fight that ghost the kids said controlled time. Clock Face? or Cog Work? Something weird like that… Because if they lost Danny as well, they would knock down that ghosts door themselves.

The next week until he was released from the hospital had been a blur. Some old friends, ghostly and human alike, had been visiting him as he lay recovering. he didn’t remember much, except for the fact that Vlad had been there at some point and that he had actually APOLOGIZED for his past actions, something that Danny would have been more focused on if the next words to leave Vlad’s mouth hadn’t been…

“Daniel, I’m sorry. The entire ghost zone has been searching for the ghosts of your family. None of them ever formed a ghost. I guess they had died happy with their life”. The man said sympathetically, wondering how he was keeping his voice from cracking as he tried to stay strong in front of the one being that shared his fate.

Vlad left shortly after, the pain of losing Maddie, and surprisingly, his old friend Jack too much for him to handle. He left with the promise that he’d cover the cost of their funeral.

As soon as he got home, he had one of the vultures bring him his will. Without hesitation, he marked one Daniel Fenton as the sole inheritor to his wealth. Now, he was off to the animal shelter to find himself a cat. He promised himself he wouldn’t name it Maddie.

Time Skip- Funeral

The day of the funeral was a bright, sunny day contrasting with sadness that had settled into the town’s heart as many of them gathered to celebrate the life of the Fentons and the Foley boy and the Mason girl.

Daniel had managed to sit through the entire funeral without tears. The service was, of course, beautiful in every sense of the word. It had been held in the chapel where Jack and Maddie had gotten married. A small, little backwoods church with stain glass paintings, a real organ that played a somber but enchanting tone, and wooden pews. The Foleys and Masons had sat with him, crying on his shoulder and hugging him through the whole thing.

Mr. Lancer had given the eulogy. He told stories of the zany but charming Fentons, the incredible intellect and compassion of Jazz, the lovable goofiness and genius of Tucker, and the unbreakable spirit and wittiness of Samantha Mason. His stories of High school pranks, interesting parent-teacher meeting, and of his star pupil were moving, and the ladies of the audience, and some more sensitive men, were bawling by the end of it. But not a single tear fell down Danny’s face.

Danny didn’t cry when they drove to the cemetery. Not when they lowered the bodies into the ground, not when they each took a handful of dirt and tossed it over the coffin, and not when they finally covered the caskets, separating Danny and his family with 6 feet of earth. Neither did he cry when the cars started leaving. He just stared at the coffin. It wasn’t until he heard a soft,

“Danny, we want to ask you something” come from the mouth of Mrs. Foley did he turn away from the coffin to see the Masons and Foleys standing behind him. Mr. Mason holding papers in his hand that wasn’t wrapped around his wife.

“Danny we know that you’re legally an adult and that we can never replace your parents, but we’ve watched you throughout these last weeks. You need a family. We were wondering if maybe you’d like to be-” Mr. Mason broke off his sentence, finding it to hard to finish.

“Danny we’d like to give you a family. We like to…” Mr. Foley slowly struggled out. “Adopt you”. He finally finished.

And as the adults were about to start trying to continue talking, Danny silenced them all by walking over to thema and wrapping his arms around all of them. Pulling them all close to him, He managed a shakey,

“Yes. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!” Danny whispered out, still shaking. Perhaps it was his core starting to heal, perhaps this just happened to be his emotional breaking point, but whatever happened, caused the tears to start flowing. They held Danny in their arms as he slowly began sobbing an ugly sob. This wasn’t the crying of someone in one of those cheesy romance movies, these were these ugly, gasping wails of sorrow that only came with true sadness.

It was then that, while being held in his new family’s arms, something in danny snapped. The little voice that told him nothing would ever be okay again broke.

He truly realized that he needed to get back up, dust himself off, and keep going. He thought of how disappointed Jazz would be to see how he had given up on his half-life. He nearly snorted at the thought of how hard Sam would’ve slapped him for letting their deaths affect him like this. He thought of how tucker would have cheered him up with some stupid joke about how he had Danny beat in the “who’s more dead” competition now.

When night started to fall and the sun slid behind the earth, his family moved to go home. Danny wanted to stay for a bit longer. In his stupor, he had never actually said goodbye to his family. Despite their insistence, Danny wouldn’t budge.

Eventually his new family decided to give him some alone time to mourn. Trusting he’d be able to make it back to the Mason’s house, where he’d been staying since the accident, they left him alone at the cemetery. At Night.

As Danny stood over his family’s graves. He once again started to cry. This time, however they were not tears of sadness, but tears of joy as he reminisced on the good times. He thought back to when Tucker had tried to ask out a girl only to have her turn around to be a dude with long hair. It wouldn’t have been as funny if tucker hadn’t started with the greeting “hey Sexy”. He thought back to the time that Sam had been put on a team as part of an intramural event back in highschool. Her team was the pink team, and they were REQUIRED to show up that day or they had to write a 5 page essay on why teamwork was helpful. Sam did her essay on how she was gonna get a “team” (of criminals) together to prank (assault) the principle. He thought of the time his dad had to shoot the fudge after it attacked him. Danny’d never seen such a big man sob like a little girl before. Or the time when Maddie had punched Vlad after she caught him staring to low for it to be eye-contact. And the time when Jazz had decided to pavlov the neighbor’s dogs to bark and snarl everytime Paulina walked by. Seriously don’t ask how she did it, Danny still has no clue.

But, as Danny sat there, the sounds of his tears attracted predators. No, not wolves or anything of the sort. These creatures were older, more dangerous. They started circling. The boy remained unaware.

As Danny got up to go home, having finally said his goodbyes, the wind shifted. And the warm night grew very, very cold. It wasn’t cold like ice and snow type cold, but like a cold atmosphere, an atmosphere of death, spread through the cemetery. It was a cold that made Danny, the ghost with a ice core who had once spent the night naked in a blizzard (seriously don’t ask how. Just know that ecto-alcohol, Wulf, and a lawn flamingo was involved), shiver. Danny could feel it in his bones. Something was here. Something….Dangerous.

The creatures approached danny though the bushes, and he saw 3 pairs of glowing red eyes appear out of the mist. Wait, since when was there mist! Danny thought. The Eyes began to stalk towards, slowly.

That’s when Danny remembered jazz once saying something about how some pack-hunting dinosaurs would distract their prey, while another member snuck up behind them. That was when he heard a twig behind him snap.

SHIT. Was all that Danny had a chance to think before he felt the animal’s claws and teeth of the creature that had come up behind him rake into his back and neck. Well guys look like I’ll be seeing you sooner, rather than later. He thought before blacking out atop his family’s grave.

To find more of this follow this link https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12401599/1/The-Undead-Dead

Let me know what you think, and any suggestions you have for the story! Thanks I love all yall

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #vampire au #vampire danny #the undead dead #vlad masters #tucker foley #they dead #samantha mason

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