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shiny-jr · 5 months ago

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▶ damnation [ the praetorian imp ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

– Note: Here it is. I got lazy and did not check it after reading it multiple times before posting on Quotev. So hopefully there's no mistakes. At least not a lot of them. Now read. Happy reading.

– Pages: 43

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Raven Retainer | The Praetorian Imp | ???

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a circlet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing?

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you absorbed your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone.

Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.

On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you.

A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove.

You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny individual training beside a satyr and a pegasus.

“Get– these off…!”

An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god.

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic entity had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented.

Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations!

These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to.

In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!”

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike.

Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”

If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse.

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze past but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rocky cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location.

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. The accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating––

“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”

“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help.

The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!”

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist.

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a normal little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved.

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head with her strong arms. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her head, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––”

Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning.

It seemed as if your torment was far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company.

A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull.

Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.”

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!”

Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance. Gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.”

Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.

Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful.

“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”

Embarrassment caused heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.”

Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done as a tense sort of silence settled in the air.

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we still had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.”

“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when the muses run out of jokes to tell.”

The muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus?

“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.”

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.” You kept your head down both out of respect and out of fear. Even if this supposed god was nowhere near as frightening in appearance as you had originally imagined, he was still a god capable of things you could never imagine. Better safe than sorry.

There was no chance to add anymore, since a hiss and the screams of terrified people filled the gorge. The massive serpent slithering out from its hidden den screeched as a storm brewed. The beast was probably more horrifying than any creature from nightmares you’ve dreamt, and thankfully you weren’t one of the many mortals down in the pit where they were within striking distance.

As all this unfolded multiple levels down in the pit, you cautiously made your way to the edge beside the human who served the god, seeing that the Lord of the Underworld had grown bored of the ridicule and decided watching the death match was worth his attention. Of course you knew how the battle would unfold. The hero would struggle against the massive scaled beast, before beheading it, only to be faced with numerous more heads that resulted from each slice. In the end, the warrior would prevail, beaten and bruised, but alive and hailed as a hero by the townsfolk. However, watching it all transpire in real time right before your very eyes, brought a newfound level of anxiety.

That hero attempted to regain her confidence, but her maneuvers were awkward and unsure when faced with her first real threat. Each movement was just barely enough to save her from the snapping jaws of the currently single-headed hydra. Each swing of her blade met its equally sharp fangs, and clashed like two swords. Watching the scene beside you, was that human, the character that was to be the love interest of the hero.

Meg watched with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms, looking both anxious and displeased. So quiet that it was easy to miss over the sounds of people in chaos and the snarling of the hydra, he murmured, “I don’t know what your angle is, but it won’t work.”

Averting your attention away from the spectacle below, you slowly turned your head to the man. “I’m sorry…?” What was he talking about? Angle? There was no angle. Right now you were just trying to survive, nothing more, nothing less.

“Don’t play stupid, you sleazy imp. Complimenting him? Of all people? Even I’m not desperate enough to sweet-talk him like that. He’d see through the ruse anyways.” He hissed, glaring at you with those odd violet eyes that momentarily stopped at you, then his superior, back to the gorge. “Heraclea should’ve dropped that boulder on you to squish you like the insect you are.”

At that mental image you nearly flinched. When his gaze glanced over at that god and his younger brother, your eyes followed. The android boy was peering down at the gorge, clapping his hands excitedly as if he was spectating some game instead of a deadly match. The god was still on that cold stone throne, grinning as he lounged as if he were at home kicked back on a couch. When those otherworldly yellow eyes met yours and his grin faltered, you tensed up before diverting your attention back to the nail-biting action.

Anxiously you twiddle your thumbs. Heraclea… So that was the protagonist’s name. You shuddered to think of what would become of you should she one day think of you as an enemy and not as an innocent person to be saved. Were you someone to be saved? Yes. Innocent? No, not exactly. Although, if the Lord of the Underworld managed to successfully conquer Mount Olympus, wouldn’t that mean he would bring his servants to that safe haven in the clouds too? All the other gods would be imprisoned, even the mighty God of Thunder who currently ruled over the mountain. Mount Olympus was high in the clouds, it was practically heaven. You would be safe there.

Eventually, Idia would acquire titans, each with astounding elemental powers and then some. Each and every god had fallen in defeat against the titans, all save for the God of Thunder and his son who defeated them, now daughter in this case. And the only reason the hero had regained their strength to defeat the titans, was because his love, Meg, had gotten injured. If Meg was kept safe, then he wouldn’t have ever had his strength returned to him, meaning he never would’ve been able to stop the siege on Mount Olympus. Certainly it would allow you to be safe and alive, perhaps even served by gods and goddesses, so long as you heed Idia’s every word. And a piece of the key to that future, stood right beside you.

Clearing your throat, you nearly felt sick when you watched as Heraclea finally beheaded the beast, and the hydra’s body went limp against the relieved cheers of the townsfolk. The calm before the storm. At that moment, you struggled to find something to say. “Is… Is it because I didn’t compliment you…?” Why was he so harsh towards you? Actually, scratch that. It was obvious there were trust issues there, and he wouldn’t be too fond of one of the two that worked so closely with the god he sold his soul to. “Nevermind, that was stupid thing to ask.”

“Yeah, it was. What a dope.” When he rolled his eyes, that was probably the sign to leave. However, your feet remained firmly planted. Even as he continued his degrading comments, “It seems like every peloponnesian minute, you get more and more pathetic.” With a wave of his hand, he shooed you away with a scowl tugging on his lips. “Why don’t you go join the watch party with them?”

It was quite morbid to see the Lord of the Underworld and his younger brother appear quite enthusiastic when the decapitated beast suddenly started moving and sprouted three heads within a single second. The duo were raving about something you couldn’t hear due to the wind and rain that had picked up. They remained under the hollowed stone, keeping them dry. However, Meg continued to stand beside you on the cliff, getting drenched with each drop.

Part of you considered just extending out your arm and pushing him over the cliff, but there was no use in that. Chances are, Heraclea would save him and Idia might not appreciate the fact that one of his best pawns was gone. And if Meg died from the fall, for what reason would the hero then later have to give up his powers if not to save the love interest? So, refraining, you instead unraveled part of the cloth around yourself to extend over his head like an umbrella.

“... Thanks.” The thank you was hesitant as he eyed you carefully, but at least he had the decency to be grateful. By now, it appeared as if the hydra had been slayed by falling rubble along with the hero, but you knew better. Without even looking at you, Meg repeated, “Like I said before, I don’t know what you're up to, but keep me out of it.”

“I’m just… trying to spare myself is all.” Your response held a much deeper meaning than he, or anyone else in this world, could ever know. To him, it just seemed like you meant standing by him to distance yourself from the god when the hydra lay buried and still while Heraclea emerged bruised but alive to a rapturous applause from the cheering far below.

You swore you saw the god’s blue hair spark red for a moment, the flames appearing to wave a little faster but he didn’t make any motion to grab and burn anything with his bare hands. All he did was stand up and stalk off, and you were in no way tempted to elicit a worser reaction from him. Not when Ortho was unnerving you by how he stood still, his brows furrowed in disappointment with a tilt of his head as he watched the protagonist get showered in praise and thanks. Neither of them would you approach, even as a dark mist surrounding the ledge. When it was gone, you and the others were back in those dark hallowed halls from where you first arrived.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Staring at the ceiling. It felt as if you had barely slept, and you had no sense of the time as it was so dark in the underworld. All you wanted to do was sleep, sleep and never wake up to avoid this endless nightmare but all you could do was disassociate. And yet, you couldn’t even be granted that small mercy of sleep. A coma would be a blessing right about now. However, all you could do was get lost in the painted and carved shapes and swirls, silently staring up blankly.

When you imagined the possibility of perhaps achieving paradise on Mount Olympus by assisting the Lord of Underworld receive an ending of his own, you had not accounted for just how long that would take. How long each venture and battle would add to each hour, how the days began to bleed together and feel like a blur. Especially with each task done, you came no closer to derailing Heraclea off her fast-speed track towards a good ending.

The Erymanthian Boar was a wild and tameless beast that became the main dish of a feast when it was shot by a bow and promptly cooked on a spit. The Nemean Lion was like a kitten compared to the hero’s strength, even its claws famed for breaking the sharpest sword were no match. The Stymphalian Birds were caught and caged like canaries by the protagonist on her pegasus. Nothing, not a single beast or creature alive stood a chance against Heraclea. You witnessed these defeats firsthand, as you and Ortho were often charged with freeing whatever beast was to be the next challenge in a setting like a city waiting to be saved by the famed woman.

And after each loss, you saw the same thing. Idia would remove a piece off a large board. Each piece was placed strategically, carved to reflect the appearance of each monster he controlled and wished to obtain. You watched as he flicked off the Erymanthian Boar, slapped off the Nemean Lion, melted the Stymphalian Bird to a puddle. You feared meeting a fate like that, at the protagonist or antagonist’s hands––

“Hey!! Guess what?”

You hardly even moved, you didn’t even make a squeak, all you did was flinch when the face of the android appeared above you. After the first dozen or so times he spooked you by just magically appearing like a ghostly apparition, it stopped scaring you so much. Especially because Ortho didn’t want you dead. For whatever reason, he seemed strangely fond of you, perhaps because he thought that you were whoever you replaced as the role of his partner in crime. Besides, the one he wanted dead was the hero, he and his brother have made that much clear.

“No––”

“Meg recruited new pawns for Idia to use! Isn’t that exciting? And these three are super strong! There’s the Minotaur, Miss Stheno, and a Griffin! We think that the reason the hero has been winning all this time is because she’s only faced one enemy at a time. This is a game-changer, trust me!” Ortho took your hands in his cold metallic ones, his eyes shining as he whispered hopefully, “We’re so close, I can feel it…! Soon, we’re gonna be able to repay everything Idia ever did for us, by giving him Mount Olympus. I’ll be able to repay him for creating me, and you��ll be able to repay him for reviving you!”

That… was new. In all your time here, you had never once heard anyone mention a creation and revival. There was no way you could just up and ask. You were supposed to know this, and play the part. While Ortho was cheerful and bright, there was this ominous side of him and glint in his eyes. Along with his mechanical parts that pointed to the obvious, what he had just said might’ve confirmed it, that he was in no shape, way, or form, human.

“Yeah… I’m looking forward to it.” By now you knew the drill. Whenever Idia was plotting to use a new pawn, you and Ortho would have to go over details including where to release the enemies in a setting to wreck the most havoc and somewhere accessible to the protagonist. Sitting up slowly from the bed, you slid your hands out of his and used your palms to support yourself on the mattress. These next words, you would have to choose carefully. “Olympus for all that he’s done for us…”

Ortho paused when he held up your bag, and he slowly tilted his head. He did it in a way that creeped you out, with those wide yellow eyes no longer sparkling so brightly. “Oh, I mean, what he’s done for me. You can do this and I’ll forgive you for lying to me.”

You stopped breathing and your limbs froze in place. You were staring down at the young boy for what felt like a prolonged hour in silence as the air became thick with tension, but it was only a few seconds. It took a few more seconds for you to breathe, to swallow the knot caught in your throat which formed a bubbling pit of dread boiling within your stomach about to make you sick. “W-What…?”

“Your heart rate has increased significantly, more so than usual. Ever since the hydra, I’ve noticed your vitals seem off. Of course, you have always been the nervous one, always panicking, but it seems more extreme now. So I’ve conducted some scans without your notice, and I’ve made an interesting discovery. The details within your current profile do not match the previously saved one.” With each word you could only stare in horror. How long has he known? Has he told anyone else? What would he do with this information now? What would Idia do if he knew? Each and every word was like a brick being added to a scale, tipping the balance further until you felt as if your very heart would stop. “It’s the weirdest thing. It’s almost as if you’re a completely different person.”

At that moment you just wanted to vanish, disappear like gray smoke, because you’re certain that even the Lord of the Underworld’s lackey brother can give you a crueler ending than being swallowed whole by the hydra or seen as a foe in the eyes of the hero.

Ortho remained still, his head still tilted. There was no blinking, he didn’t even breathe. The voice that came from him was serious but quiet, “Do you want to be honest to me now? We were supposed to be a team.”

The horns. Those cursed metallic horns, the one on his head and the matching pair on yours, a telltale sign that you were supposed to be a duo. Somehow your hands found their way to your skull, to the base of the horns. No matter what you did, yanking, sawing, thumping them against the hard floors, nothing ever affected them when you attempted to remove them during lonely nights.

“Breathe.” Ortho whispered, his eyes softening and brows furrowing slightly, as if he were looking at a panicked little beast fearfully curled up in a corner. You hadn’t even noticed you were nearly hyperventilating until he said something. You recognized that look, one of pity. Why was it that you were so familiar and used to that look, but the one time you needed it during the trial, you were shown none? “If I wanted you gone, we wouldn’t be talking right now, you know that, right? You aren’t them, and I don’t understand it, but… you do good work. Help me understand you, and I’ll help you understand us. Okay?”

Broken. You broke, like a dam cracking and crumbling, the bricks swept away in a rushing torrent of words and feeble attempts at explanation. It was clear that he had been expecting some resistance of some kind, but he received none. You recounted everything, from your trial to now, the fear you’ve felt, your nightmares, the desperation to avoid a horrible end that you were destined to receive. Not divulging into the details, not mentioning the fact that this was like a story you knew. And finally, after everything was said, you wiped your teary eyes as you breathed the final words. “Please–– don’t tell anyone. N-No one can know. I’ll do what you want, I’ll help you get your brother to Olympus…! Please, all I want is peace too…”

Your fellow imp finally blinked, surprised and utterly taken aback by your rapid explanation and plea for secrecy. For a long moment, Ortho appears to scrutinize you. Who knew what was going on in that mechanical mind of his, what things he was realizing that were unseen by human eyes? Finally, he sat beside you. Well, almost, since he floated in the air in front of you, sitting on nothing but empty space. “He doesn’t want peace. That’s boring.”

Swinging his legs lightly, he removed the metallic mouthpiece that concealed the lower half of his face. You saw… nothing out of the ordinary. He looked so much like a real boy that it was uncanny, save for the pointed teeth that were very much like Idia’s.

Clearing your throat, you proceeded, “I-I don’t care, as long as I’m safe.”

“I like it better when you’re honest.” Placing the metal mouthpiece on his lap, he continued to observe you before he gave you a smile. A real smile. Somberly he proceeded, “Idia created me with his own two hands, because his biological family alienated him. Every other god lives in those high mountains, where they’re so close to the sun’s warmth and have an abundance of treasures! They never work, never worry… but not my brother. They forced him to live alone in this cold realm, to take on the responsibility of lording over the dead for all of eternity. So, eventually he brought me to life in this metal body. Then he chose a human soul to revive just so I wouldn’t be lonely either. That human soul was you, or my friend before you, at least. But I think I like you better.”

“You… You do?”

“Yeah! I think my brother picked a really bad human soul. The one you replaced was scared all the time, like you, but they never got the job done right. I like you, because even when you’re obviously scared, you do what you have to, and you do it right.” His blunt and casual manner of speaking, combined with the fact that he was still swinging his legs as he floated off the floor, reminded you that he really was a child. Or at least, molded to be like a child. “Don’t worry, I won’t speak a word about it to my brother. This doesn’t affect his plans anyways. As long as you pinky promise you won’t lie to me anymore, and you’ll still help!”

When he held out a little pinky, you blinked slowly. Such a childish thing, a pinky promise, but your life would hang on the balance between two small interlocked bones. Your life, on nothing but a promise. Did you really have a choice in the matter? “You swear you won’t tell anyone…??”

“I swear! We Shrouds always uphold our bargain. Imp’s honor!” His beaming smile could light up this entire dreary realm as you slowly wrapped your pinky around his and shook hands.

“But… imps aren’t very honorable––”

“Yeah, we are! I.M.P.– information management praetorians. We have to be honest, especially to each other, or how else will our team work?” Ortho argued, frowning lightly at the thought of being considered a liar. “At least, we have to be honest to our own. When it comes to mortals that are not you or Meg, who cares?” He placed that metallic mouthpiece back on that covered the lower portion of his face, and he stood up from his chair of air. “Come on, let’s start walking. On the way, you can tell me something interesting that I don’t know. I bet your world is so different! Tell me about it, please?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

This was your punishment, not from fate or the very hands that brought down the gavel then declared you were to be banished and die, but by Ortho. Ortho’s cruel little hands, who had tricked you into switching responsibilities for the day. Apparently he was still bitter that you had lied to him in previous encounters. What he hadn’t told you was that his main task for the day was to accompany the Lord of the Underworld across the river of souls and to the mortal realm.

So now here you were, seated so awkwardly and stiffly on the small thin boat, nervously watching the grotesque faces of the dead as their souls were carried by the currents. You could only pray that the boat didn’t tip over, because who knew what would happen to your mortal body if it fell in? It was likely mentioned in the story, but you couldn’t recall exactly what it was.

Idia appeared relatively unbothered, standing at the very edge of the boat as a masked being made of metals and dark robes moved mechanically. The mechanical charon rowed the vessel to the other side of the river, and quickly you grew bored of their slow and repetitive movements. So you turned your gaze to Idia. You couldn’t see his face, since his back was to you. All you could see was his glowing mane of blue flames waving lightly with the cold lifeless air. Abruptly, he turned his head and you saw his side profile. Those chilling unnatural yellow eyes glanced at you with a dull expression on his face, possibly sensing your stare, you quickly averted your gaze away. But it was too late, he had seen it.

“What is your deal? You have a major staring problem, imp.”

“N-Nothing, nothing!” Rapidly shaking your head, you looked for an excuse, any excuse. Anything to save you from this embarrassment, or avoid the risk of angering him. You saw his anger in brief sporadic moments, but you did not want to be the source of those frustrations. Not after you saw how he burned those pawns on that beloved board of his. “I was just wondering… what exactly are we going to do in the mortal realm?” And more importantly, how chaotic would things get?

“Tsk. Just monitor that lamebrain hero. Everyone like that has a weak spot. I mean, Prometheus and Epimetheus messed around with Pandora and the box thing, a bunch of the gods on Olympus got too involved in the Trojan War and in the end the Trojans bet on the wrong horse. All we gotta do is find her Achilles’ heel so to speak.”

It was odd how in the original story, The Lord of the Underworld never quite acknowledged most of the gods. Except for the God of Thunder, who he held a clear distaste for. However, Idia spoke as if he knew all of them personally, which would make sense. But whenever he said their names, he frowned and seemed as if he weren’t fond of any of them.

Seeing him roll his eyes, you glance at the charon who moved like a puppet, then back at the god. The silence was only temporary. Tucking your knees to your chest as you remain seated, you watch him as he continues to gaze out over the gray and lifeless realm that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Idia seemed like the solitary type, and if what Ortho said was true, than Idia would be alone. Clearing your throat, you inquired softly, “The Trojan War… which gods were involved in that?”

Upon hearing the inquiry, he paused but remained still. How many gods and humans and other beings had he known in his long immortal life? Probably too many to count. Idia remained looking away, as if he hadn’t even heard your question, but he answered, “Not that it really matters, but too many. To call the entire ordeal messy would be a major understatement.”

It sounded like one big trashy reality television show, except much more deadlier and the stakes were high. And yet, if his words were the truth, then he may have not had any part in the conflict. “And you didn’t get involved?”

“Why would I? I have zero interest in the stupid pointless affairs of mortals.” Okay, so he was not a fan of mortals waging war or causing conflicts. That was good to know. “Whenever they start fighting, more of them end up down there, and it’s annoying. The only bright side of it is that I don’t have to listen to all their arguing on Olympus.”

Carefully, you proceeded to ask, “So… you don’t like them? The other gods, I mean. Can you stand them…?”

“I can’t stand any of those self-important deadbeats.” A deep frown dug into his lips, clear hatred shining in those tired eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. You would be equally bitter about practically being left to rot, to carry a burden for eternity all while everyone else who was supposed to stand beside you went to live lavishly in the clouds without a single care in the world, while their only worries were which mortals to support and pit against another like watching dogfights.

In a way, it felt like how the judges back in your home cast their judgment from aloft, and you were left alone to suffer for it. Unsure of what possessed you, you managed to ask, “What would you change? I mean, if you could punish them for wronging you, what would you do?”

Leaning against the curved end of the boat, he situated his elbow atop the curve and propped up his head on his cheek. For a long moment he was quiet, gazing at you with those striking yellow eyes. Tired, he looked tired. And after centuries, thousands of years doing his work, who wouldn’t be? “Make them suffer for the rest of eternity, just as they damned me to hell. Chains would be a pretty good start, to make them feel a tiny fraction of how it felt to be trapped. They killed that little smidge of hope I had a long long time ago, so I’ll be fair and return the favor by killing their little hero Heraclea.”

Considering his response, you nod slowly. While morbid, his feelings felt justified. Had anyone else been in his position, they likely would’ve gone insane. Maybe Idia wasn’t completely sane in the first place, considering how alone he had been until the creation of Ortho and supposed revival of the person you replaced. What sane person would create a family and a friend for himself, just to try and end their loneliness?

“You just focus your puny efforts on helping me change the world. When the titans are freed, everything will change. You can take that as gospel, or whatever.”

He returned his sights ahead over the river of souls, you suddenly remember what happens if a mortal falls into the murky depths. Their body is quickly drained of life, draining them like a grape dried to a prune, leaving nothing but a wrinkled corpse if the person stays in for too long. It’s how the protagonist nearly met their end, and where the god before you is supposed to become trapped in complete darkness.

You watched, both intimidated and captivated as a wide toothy grin broke out on his face like he thought of something funny. He scoffed, proceeding with his words in quick succession, almost breaking out into a laugh. “Those unsuspecting dolts have spent so much time up in the clouds that the air pressure must’ve literally dimmed their common sense and cut off the oxygen from their brains. They won’t even see us coming! Ah––” Freezing, his smile dropped instantly as he noticed your shock and he realized that he was allowing himself to speak more freely. Instantly he cut himself off, lowering his volume back down a few notches. Seemingly embarrassed, he partially covered his blue lips with the sleeves of his robes. “Uh… That… What I mean to say is… unlike them, I actually take others into account. One god won’t take up space on that mountain, there’s room for Ortho and a mortal too. To live however you want.”

That expression he had made, was it possible he was becoming more accustomed to you? Wait, no, he was just warming up to the role you played. Ortho had mentioned that you naturally acted just like the imp you had replaced. The Lord of the Underworld was just growing accustomed to the presence of the mortal soul of what he thought was the human he picked to become his lackey. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. The god would never care for a mortal, not when he used the two humans closest to him, yourself and Meg, as pawns in a game to defeat the human hero, and the result without that hero would be mass casualties. As long as it wasn’t you being tormented by the beasts Idia controlled or even the titans that would soon be free, you didn’t care. Fate was dangling paradise atop a mountain behind golden gates right in front of you, and you just had to survive long enough to make it there. If only it were that easy…

“However I want…”

“However you want,” Idia repeated, as the boat stopped and the charon froze in place at a rickety old pier. Just ahead on land was a cavern with the slightest bit of sunlight flowing through it. A possible path to the mortal realm? “Cause I don’t really care what you do then. Right now, hurry it up.”

Carefully standing, you immediately jumped off the rocking boat, following the ominous divine being who ruled over the dead. Cautious to keep some distance so as to not be burned by his hair, you trail behind him. “... So… what exactly do I have to do this time…?” You prayed for an easy task, wanting to at least be out of a few mile radius distance from the hero.

“You? Oh, nothing. A wimpy little imp like you wouldn’t survive if you got too close to that hero. And really, I don’t feel like going through the effort of finding another mortal to work for me. Not when you’re useful enough, I suppose. At least you’re better than the last imp.” He practically floated across the ground, the smoke following at his heels with every step he took.

At least you’re better than the last imp. When you heard those words, you froze in place, your feet stuck to the stairs. It felt as if your very heart had stopped, and your breathing had even come to a halt. There… weren’t any predecessor imps in the story, were there? No–– you would’ve remembered such a crucial detail. So that could only mean that he knew. Somehow he knew––

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice broke the silence, as he saw your foot inch back, as if wanting to escape back towards the river of souls. Maybe if you hijacked the boat, forced the charon to take you somewhere far far away from here. To another portal you could use to escape into the mortal realm, anywhere but here with him. The god that ruled over the dead could see the fear clear in your eyes. His gaze was cold, and he was frowning. “Thinking of ending it all here?”

Staring into his eyes, gazing right at him, was utterly terrifying now that you didn’t know whether he considered you friend or foe. In the stories The Lord of the Underworld practically tortured his imps for sport, what if he did the same to you? You were no brother to him, you weren’t even the original soul he handpicked! You only moved your head slightly, in the subtlest nod. You didn’t want to die, but a quick and painless death by your own hand would be a mercy when compared to the horrors those pale boney hands of him would wrought.

“Pfft––” A toothy grin spread on his blue lips. The Lord of the Underworld actually smiled, and nearly laughed at your blunt response. He shrugged at your notion, and responded, “You’re not special. Get over it. Don’t even try to kill yourself, because I'll drag you straight out of the river and back here in front of me.”

That was… extremely unnerving. As scary as death was and as much as you wished to avoid it at any costs, it didn’t appear as if it would become some sort of sweet release. Not until he found you useless. You couldn’t help but notice that he spoke much more… curtly than usual, as if ticked off by something.

By some miracle you managed to swallow your fear. Perhaps it was because he found you amusing that he allowed you a few more seconds of life, or maybe it was because he really had some kind of plan in mind for you. Which was worse? Spending your last seconds agonizing over how he would end you, or believe he may kill you only to put you through tasks that would make you long for death. Meekly you murmur, “N-Normal people don’t say that––”

“I’m not a normal person, am I?” When he rolled his head to look at you, you’re reminded once again that he wasn’t like you at all. Far from it. Piercing yellow eyes, blue lips, a mane of fire, these were just the physical traits. Idia was a god, older than you could possibly comprehend, and perhaps wiser than he let on. Despite his blunt and modern way of speaking combined with his lax mannerisms, he was still the Lord of the Underworld. And he could snuff you out with a snap of his fingers.

Whenever he looked at you a certain way, like he was studying you, reading your very soul, it made a chill travel down your spine and formed a sensation in your stomach that caused you to feel like hurling. You swallowed again, forcing yourself to avoid getting sick right then and there. You didn’t know what he was seeing when he looked at you, and frankly, it was probably best not to know. “If you think I’m a poor excuse for a god, you can say it, you know.”

Puzzled by the thought that he believed that was your opinion of him, you furrowed your brows, mentally recalling any recent memories that could’ve prompted him to think so. However, none came to mind. You didn’t know whether to reply, or let him continue. Which would bring about punishment. “I never ever thought that…!”

“Huh…” Standing with his hands at his sides, his shoulders slightly hunched as he faced away from you. There were a few spare moments of a tense awkward silence before he continued, “Or… did you think I was stupid? I knew the whole time. You think I wouldn’t recognize my own imp? Even the one I didn’t really give a damn about?”

All you could do was remain still, as still as a statue. Never had you ever been this frightened before, not when coming so close to the overpowered hero with superhuman strength, or when you were underneath a boulder in the hydra’s gorge, or even when you were tasked with freeing multiple creatures of nightmares beside Ortho. Because yes, while all those beings and myths could’ve caused your demise in various horrendous and grotesque ways, Idia was on a different level. If he so wished, he could revive you and kill you again and again, trapping you in a continuous cycle of death and misery for all time.

Lifting one hand where small whirls of weak smoke swirled at his bony fingertip, the small cloud resembled the gray murky depths of the river of souls where the dead were the waves on the surface. He continued, while brooding, “When I plucked the original out of the river and revived them, I did it for one reason and one reason only. For Ortho, to keep him company. I didn’t need anyone trying to annoy me, and the prototype was no particular help, you’re more like deadweight since Ortho can do your tasks all on his own. But he wanted a friend, and who am I to deny it? I chose the original’s soul for flat and basic little traits. A dim, sorry, subservient little mortal. Except…”

When he glanced over his shoulder at you, his yellow eyes glowed dimly and you couldn’t discern his expression due to how the angle concealed the lower half of his face. Those eyes alone made you want to jump right into the river of souls, but you didn’t want to test the theory if he actually forcefully dragged you out of certain doom. What was fairly certain was that the Lord of Underworld could most definitely create fates worse than anything the judges could’ve conjured up just for you. The only thing you could do was pray that he would be merciful. “Please, believe me, I didn’t want to lie to you––!”

“pLeAsE, bELiEvE mE, i DiDn’T wAnT tO LiE tO yOu.” Idia openly mocked you, even copying the way you would anxiously grip your hands together as if in a thoughtful prayer begging for mercy. “But you did! Lucky for you, I didn’t care for the original. And, it’s a hassle getting a new imp so you got stuck with me, just your luck. Poor sorry little imp, I almost feel bad for you. Almost. Not really though.”

He… didn’t care? Was this mercy? Or some odd form of it? He made no movements to end you right then and there, not seeming to be debating it.

“I’m not stupid.” He clarified with a scowl, and that’s what made you realize that he was cross because you underestimated his intellect. Were gods truly so prideful? Maybe. It seemed so. And in the grand scheme of things, maybe he didn’t care because this didn’t affect his plans in the slightest. Why would a powerful immortal who rules over the dead’s domain, care for a human? “I don’t care who you really are, as long as you stick to the script and make Ortho happy. Got it? If you do what you're told, you’ll live.”

“O-Oh…” That wasn’t even half as much as painful of a punishment as you expected it to be. Just don’t underestimate him for his pride’s sake, and keep a solid friendship with Ortho. Noted. Those you could definitely do. “Um, thank you so so so much for sparing me your, uh… your most lugubriousness…?”

His nose crinkled and he frowned at the horrid attempt at a title. “Ew, stop that, don’t be weird. I’m not gonna kill you, that should be obvious even to someone stupid. And don’t even think of calling me Lord, that’s complete overkill. This isn’t the Dark Ages. Just use my name, it’s not like I’m gonna smite you for it. Just Idia Shroud.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It was said that there were five stages of grief, and you had experienced all five since arriving. From the tiny voice in the back of your mind denying the reality of the situation, to the current state of acceptance to which you had no choice but to arrive at. With each passing night as you watched the planets in the sky like stars grow closer and closer to aligning, it counted down like the doomsday clock to your demise. If Heraclea didn’t lose by then, you would fail. Idia would never claim Mount Olympus, and you’d meet a terrible end.

As you stared up at the planets, seeing they were so close to a perfect straight line, you became lost in thought. It became common now, where you would stare off into space, wondering if death would come to claim you and fearing in what form it may come, only to be forcefully brought back from that eternal slumber should Idia continue to breathe. Going over constant plans and ideas, that led to deadends. Because the hero was destined to win, she had the smarts and strength to do any feat once thought impossible. The only hope brought you back to the original plan, keep Meg safe once Idia struck a deal with Heraclea in which the love interest’s safety hangs in the balance.

That was the only way.

“Are you even listening?” Ortho inquired, slightly annoyed that you had just ignored everything he was saying. Hovering off the ground, he floated upwards a bit to be in your line of vision as your head remained tilted up to the night sky. The artificially generated blue flames on his hair swayed lightly, casting a gentle blue glow and the shadows outlined his metallic horns. Tilting his head, he stared at your eyes filled with despair just staring off into nothingness. “Helloooo? Come on, there’s no time for mental breakdowns!”

When he waved a hand in front of your nose, you blinked, snapping out of that despondent daze as you slowly turned your attention to the young boy in front of you. Seeing his face that looked similar to Idia was not doing anything to help your current state. “H-Huh…?”

How did he even find you at one of Idia’s temples in the human realm? You had no idea. It was the easiest place to get to, considering all of the Lord of the Underworld’s mortal-made temples were accessible through the doors of his abode. Not that there were many of the temples, and the majority of them were abandoned inside the hollow cavities or caverns they were constructed in.

Ortho furrowed his eyebrows, as he floated back down towards the earth, now only hovering a few spare inches off of the ground. Whatever he was talking about before you began paying attention, was clearly no longer the topic of the conversation as he gazed at you quizzically. “What were you thinking about?”

Was it really worth telling him? Ortho had constantly insisted that you were supposed to be working as a team, and for a while, you had. While he was an android boy, he was incredibly dependable. He possessed abilities and skills you couldn’t even dream of achieving, and if anyone could help you while Idia dealt with leading the titans, it would be Ortho. However, who’s to say that you wouldn’t immediately be tossed to the side once you served this greater purpose as a step to assist the Lord of the Underworld in reaching the peak?

Your fellow imp gazed at you, blinking those wide yellow eyes that appeared so innocent. But you knew what Ortho was capable of, what he was willing to do for his elder brother. Lie, cheat, trick, murder–– and that was only scratching the surface. Well, maybe not outright lying, because he seemed so adamantly against it. “You can tell me. We’re friends, right? I’ve never had a real friend before, besides my brother, but friends are supposed to trust each other, right?” Gravity pulled him down, until he was right beside you, seated on a crumbling fallen column that was sideways on the floor. Small fingers reached for your long sleeve, slowly gripping it.

“Right…” You exhaled, still debating whether this was a good idea or not. Part of you worried if he could even detect if you were lying, and so you decided it better not to risk it. At the worst, you’d be discarded and had to survive in an apocalyptic-like world once the titans were freed, but in the best case scenario, you would actually manage to succeed in assisting the antagonist gain a happy ending. The latter of which would effectively grant you a good ending as well. “T-These plans you’ve been making with Idia haven’t exactly been working, but… I think I know how this’ll play out in the end. Everything that’s happening now is almost exactly like a story I knew from my home.”

“It is?” He brightened up, looking downright giddy as he jumped a few inches on nothing but air. Those wide yellow eyes of his that glowed like headlights, peered at you intensely as he exclaimed, “And you never told me! Well, how does it end? We could use this to our advantage in defeating the hero! With your help, we can’t possibly lose! This came at a perfect time, just as we were running out of pawns to use.”

With your hand so close to your mouth, you were debating whether to bite your nails out of pure anxiety or just clamp your fingers over your lips to shut yourself up. Instead, you opted to dig your nails into your palm and forced yourself to open your mouth. The words came out slow, like the painfully laggard pace of dripping water. “We’re supposed to lose…I’ve t-thought of everything to try and stop this story from dragging on for this long, but we keep underestimating Heraclea. That’s the issue. We forget that even though she’s mortal, she still has part of the strength she would have if she were still a goddess. So there’s no beating her, at least not fairly…”

Ortho leaned closer, hanging onto every single word. His little metal hands continued to cling to your sleeves. A silence lingered for a moment as he processed your words. “Okay… so we have to cheat…? I dunno…”

“Not exactly. We’re just… leveling the playing field. Yeah… That’s all we’re doing.” Nodding slowly, as if trying to convince yourself of this. Despite the Lord of the Underworld’s uncaring demeanor and your fellow imp’s rather cruel ways, they were both honest. Idia kept his word, and Ortho told truths. “Right before the titans will be freed, the Lord of the Underworld discovers that the hero’s weakness isn’t a physical one, it’s an emotional one. That… weakness is Meg. So the Lord of the Underworld pretends to kidnap the love interest, and offers a deal to the hero. I-If the hero agrees to give up their strength for twenty-four hours, Meg will be freed.”

Like a lightbulb going off in his head, his blue fire hair sparked for a moment as he straightened up and exclaimed, “That would work! But, wait a minute, if that’s the real story, then what happens so we lost…?”

“I was just getting to that.” You assured him, your voice remaining quiet as if afraid of being overheard by any living creature in the vicinity. The temple was abandoned, and they were the only two living things for miles. “T-The hero agrees to the deal, under one condition. If their loved one is hurt, then the deal is off.”

It clicked in his mind as he nodded in understanding. “Ohhhhhh…” The cogs turned in his mind, weighing the meaning of your words and what was supposed to happen. “You mean Meg dies…? That’s okay!”

Your jaw dropped at the mirth in the android boy’s tone. Wasn’t he supposed to be upset? Saddened? Did he not care at all for the human they occasionally worked with? It was true, half the time he was away on business trying to persuade other beasts to submit to Idia. “W-What? I thought–– I thought you would care!”

“Not really. It’s not really a secret that Meg doesn’t care about me or Idia! He’s kinda mean to me, actually…” He sighed, averting his gaze as he murmured, “Mortals are so complicated. I can’t understand them, and my brother says they’re all the same! Well, almost all of them. I get you, and Idia actually likes your company. Which is saying something, because he can’t stand any of the mortals he’s ever spoken to. It’s actually kinda concerning because all he talks about is you and how sad and miserable you are, but he doesn’t mean it in a hateful way. He just says it’s annoying how you get stuck in people’s heads. But we’re getting off track.”

Wait, wait, no, go back on that track. Why was Idia tolerating your company? Not that it was a bad thing, as it allowed you to live longer than most folk who had ever encountered him. It was a tad worrisome, and you couldn’t help but visibly grimace.

“All we need to do is make sure Meg lives and remains without a scratch for those twenty-four hours, right? That’s easy enough! We can knock him out cold or have Cerberus watch over him. Either way, with us on watch, it won’t really matter! We’ll be free!”

You watch him yell with glee as he jumps high into the air, until he is several stories in the sky as he laughs. What a sight this would have been to any other mortal nearby, who may have had the misfortune of stumbling across two imps at the abandoned shrine of their master. When he began to plummet back to earth instead of gracefully floating back down, you nearly stumbled on your own two feet with your arms automatically outstretched to try and catch him.

Just before you could trip and fall flat on your face, his hands caught your sleeve and prevented you from taking a nasty fall. He remained hovering off the ground, as per usual. Those brilliant blinding eyes gazed at yours as he exclaimed, “We’ll finally be happy! Idia and me, and now you! We can make history, you’ll be the first mortal to ever live on Mount Olympus! Isn’t that great? Of course, if the air pressure becomes an issue affecting your breathing pattern, I’m sure Idia would be glad to come up with a solution. He really liked your company when you two went to observe our target, you know. He won’t admit it, but I think you being there helped him calm down when Heraclea stopped the eruption at the volcano.”

“Uh, well––”

“Oh! You know what I want to do as soon as we get to Olympus?” Times like these when he jumped from topic to topic so eagerly, and remained so high in spirits is what reminded you that he was supposed to be child-like. It was easy to see him as an innocent youth, if you ignored the disturbing things he said every now and then. “I heard that Hermes has some really cool accessories. We should take them! And don’t forget Ares! I’ve always wanted to see his helmet and hold the legendary sword he wields! There’s so many things we can do once we’re up there, and we’ll have all the time in the world! And––”

All you could think of as your fellow imp blabbered on and on about relics he wished to steal from other gods and how he planned to spend his time having fun with his brother and yourself, was that you really just put your entire existence in his little metal hands. Only one sentence ran through your mind as you stared slack-jawed at him.

I’m going to fucking die…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

They were right on track towards the implosion of destined failure, but all it would take would be one sharp turn, and unexpected change, to send them veering off course. It was surprisingly easy for Ortho to convince Idia to send out Meg on a quest to find Heraclea’s weakness. Although you knew the answer already, and by extension so did Ortho, Idia did not. And you were not about to tell him your whole life story and how you knew details that others should not know of this world and those living in it.

Now it was only a matter of waiting, waiting for the confirmation to arrive that Meg was the key to the hero’s destruction. To occupy the hours, you looked upon a scroll Ortho had brought along to the mortal realm. Seated atop the roofs of grand estates to avoid being seen and questioned, it was the perfect spot as the duo of imps were to await further instruction from the god.

On the scroll you held, were various faces of monstrous beasts. Titans. The ones that stood out the most, were the four at the very bottom, with a fifth not too far behind. Those you recognized, and would be the ones to lay siege on Mount Olympus: Lythos, Hydros, Pyros, Stratos, and Arges. The last of which would be the one to kill the hero while she was in her weakened state.

“This one… This one-eyed freak is the one we send to kill Heraclea.” You point out the image of the cyclops, able to distinguish it from the other titans. Unlike the others composed purely of the four elements, this titan was several tons of pure mass. A creature of unnatural proportions and unrivaled size, which would serve as a worthy opponent to the hero when she didn’t have her superhuman strength to protect her.

Ortho gazed at the scroll, paying no mind to the garden below where Meg was eventually supposed to emerge with knowledge of Heraclea’s weakness. Focusing his optic sensors on the simple painted image of the titan Arges, he was still in thought before nodding in approval. “It’s true that Arges is a worthy titan with the capability of wrecking havoc and killing numerous humans, but why him specifically? If the hero won in the story as you said, wouldn’t we want a different titan? I believe that Pyros would be most effective! His elemental body composed primarily of lava will easily burn through human flesh.”

“Well, yes… That’s a very vivid way of thinking about it.” How in depth was Ortho picturing the death of the hero? It almost seemed as if he wanted to send the most destructive of them all just to cause her more suffering, even if his way of thinking was logical. You shook the image out of your mind as you explained meekly, “Arges comes close to killing the hero. If he had taken things seriously instead of treating it as a game and delaying death, he would’ve won. But he didn’t, because he was toying with his victim… and because the hero’s trainer returned to their aid in those last moments.”

Either way, you were damning a person, a good person, to a horrible death. It wouldn’t be swift or painless, and far from merciful. The titans would have centuries of pent-up rage to release violently, and if miraculously Arges was defeated, Ortho wouldn’t allow the protagonist to slip away with their life. The imp beside you was far from the helpless little devils that appeared in the story, he could be just as lethal as his elder brother. And yet, despite the guilt you could feel slowly building up the more you thought about it, the more often you repeated to yourself: she wasn’t real. If you could fully convince yourself of that, that despite her bright blue eyes and smile as warm as sunshine, she was just a character from a story, then the guilt of her approaching death wouldn’t faze you too much.

The dangers in this world were real, the enemies were real, Ortho was real, Idia was real. She was not. Even if that felt like a lie, it was a lie, it didn’t matter. If you thought of her as a simple pawn in a game, then the burden of your sin wouldn’t be able to permeate throughout your consciousness. It was just like flicking a piece off a board. It was that simple. Because it was either her, or you. The choice was obvious.

As Ortho peered down at you with his big bright eyes, he continued floating in the air as he inquired, “Hey, hey, when we get there, I call dibs on Ares’ helmet and sword. You can have Hermes’ stuff, okay?”

“That’s fine with me…” Frankly, you didn’t care for tinted glasses, legendary swords, or the helmet of a god.

In the midst of their conversation and planning, a swirling cloud of mist like a portal appeared a few feet away. From it, came the familiar voice of the god, “Imps, time’s almost up.”

Going through the cloud was one experience you could never quite get accustomed to. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like a cold dead wind knocked the air out of your lungs as it transported you to a new location each and every time. This time, the destination was a place directly outside of a largely empty colosseum underneath gray skies that was bound to brew a storm.

“Meg is out of commission, he got too soft. But, he’s there to lure his little hero. Humans are so predictable, so naive, no offense.” Idia’s gaze traveled over to you, only offering a half-hearted shrug and a crooked small grin as a weak apology, if it could even be deemed an apology at all.

To which you nodded, not really affected by his choice of words. “None taken.”

“Ortho, you take care of the pegasus and the satyr. Will you?” The immortal lord’s yellow eyes darted over to his brethren, the young imp straightening in attention upon hearing new commands. “Clip its wings, do whatever you have to, I don’t care what it is. I want them out of the way. Join us whenever you’re done.”

“Understood!” Ortho chirped, watching as his elder brother turned away to slowly walk towards the colosseum. Your fellow imp’s eyes met yours and he must’ve remembered your warning of the impact the satyr could have on the plot, because he used his ability to generate a holographic disguise of the satyr over himself. With one swift slicing motion over his neck, his head rolled to the side in a disgustingly almost realistic spillage of blood before the holographic flickered off. The imp winked at you, far too cheerful for someone planning to commit murder in the next upcoming minutes. In the next moment, he was gone through a cloud of black smog.

The gruesome image was stuck in your mind as you were left to follow the Lord of the Underworld, jogging to catch up with him and walk at his side as he approached the coliseum. The closer and closer you got to the towering arena, the more the thought dwelled at the forefront of your mind. You would be responsible for not one death, not just extinguishing the burning bright protagonist, but others. Not just Meg, or the satyr, or the pegasus, but countless other souls. Who knew how many mortals the titans would crush, freeze, burn, shred to bits and pieces? So many lives all to save yours.

Just remember, it was a story. They were just fictional characters, they didn’t even have any relevance to the plot. Background characters whose faces and voices blurred together, whose names would go unheard. That’s all they were.

“Hey. You nervous or something?”

Immediately you were yanked out of your intense train of thought, as if pulled out from beneath the surface of water. The god seemed to have picked up on the nervous tics and the grimaces on your face.

“You look like you’re gonna puke… Cut it out. I’m the one who should be nervous, seriously.”

Gripping the fabric of your clothing to prevent any unnecessary movement, you swallowed thickly and nodded stiffly. Just walk. All you had to do was walk beside him, act as an escort and keep up with him when approaching the towering open entrances to the largely abandoned coliseum where one could faintly pick up on the sound of clanging metal dumbbells in a steady rhythm.

“Sorry…” You choke out, suppressing any sort of queasy sensation. Think of golden gates and feather-stuffed clouds softer than any tempur-pedic, not the destruction and trail of blood that would lead to paradise at the peak. “Just–– the hero we’re walking towards can probably crush my skull between her biceps without even really trying. And, I kinda prefer my skull intact, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Idia rolled his eyes, seemingly not very much in agreement. Then again, he had little to fear when it came to actually being harmed. Yes, Heraclea could do some damage to him, but he couldn’t die. He was immortal.

The pair stopped at the arching entranceway moments before entering the threshold.

“You know what I do know? Rumors.” Of course he knew things. Ortho constantly kept him up to date on the latest happenings, and of course his pawn that fit in best with other mortals, Meg, had kept him informed about anything important in the mortal lands. “A certain little bird told me something interesting before he turned traitor. That a strapping gal, who, I dunno, rides a pegasus and listens to a satyr, has been on the lookout for a small kinda pathetic-looking mortal with horns. Turns out that your crying face made a crying mark on her from that day in the gorge.”

She knew you. You didn’t know whether to cry or scream. What was worse? The hero with the strength of a thousand suns or the god that reigned over the dead?

The god. The god was easily the most frightening one, you decided as you realized that Idia was staring at you intensely again. It caused your breath to stop, your hairs standing on end. The immortal looked as if he just wanted to smite you right then and there, reducing you to nothing but ash. For something that was beyond your control.

“I have got to say, you have this talent, a curse, and it makes me want to literally just––” Idia tightly clenched his fist, pursing his blue lips as he decided against going into detail. To simply put it, words like crush, tear, destroy, or pulverize into atoms would not be able to adequately put his thoughts into words. “Turns out, it’s not just me that notices. You have this strange agonizing little ability to just… worm your way into someone’s mind, and not stop. It festers like an open wound. Infecting it, making the thoughts grow more and more, worse and worse, increasing every day.”

In your seconds of stunned and petrified silence, Idia peered down at you.

His eyes glowed in the shadows under the stone arches. The smoke at his feet brushing against your legs like tendrils of gray wisps. Abruptly he remarked, “I think I finally realized why I find you so annoying.”

“What––”

“You’re used to death and choose the logical routes that are deemed as heartless. Maybe in your previous life you were seen as odd and somewhat of an outcast, like us.”

Previous life. What exactly did he mean by that? How much exactly did he know, but chose not to explicitly state? Was he assuming you had a previous life here in his plane of existence, this story? Or did he somehow know that you once had a life elsewhere, before being damned into this role by trial?

Slowly your eyes traveled over to him, only to see that he was already glancing down at you with those glowing yellow eyes. The eyes of death himself. Unsmiling, unfeeling, unstable. The breath of life was frozen in your throat as he tilted his head slowly to one side, his gaze never leaving yours, not blinking even once. “Do you blame yourself?”

“H-Huh…?”

“Well, it’s common for you simple mortals in this type of situation you’re in to feel a type of guilt, before and after what has been done.” The number of mortal souls he must’ve seen of the damned were immeasurable. The good, the bad, the worst. All of it he had witnessed. Guilt. Was that what you were feeling now, at the thought of sacrificing others for your own survival as you manipulate the story?

The breath lodged in your throat escaped like a short stifled gasp. “I… I don’t––”

“I see it all the time, you’re no exception.” Idia turned to face you fully. The Lord of the Underworld was looking down at you, the smoke at his feet curling around your legs. It was cold lifeless air, sending a chill from your toes all the way to your neck. Those eyes felt like the worst pair of eyes in the entire world–– no, the entire universe. It felt like he could read you inside out, deciphered every bit of your soul like code. “Mortals will invent blame, trying to shove the burden on others and create an excuse. When in reality…”

Reality. This was reality now, at least for you. A reality you had attempted to shape into your will, into a satisfactory ending where things would be carefree in a heavenly paradise above the clouds. And yet… what did it cost? Lives? What did that matter? But a portion of your sanity.

“It’s completely out of your control.”

The Lord of the Underworld returned his sights ahead, to where he would encounter the beloved daughter of the god who damned him to an eternity of drudgery in the most secluded realm in this plane of existence. As he walked, it felt like his fleeting wisps of smoke lingering after each footstep, compelled her forward.

Just before the shadows of the arching columns ended, they stopped on the edge of darkness where they could watch. Straight ahead was Heraclea, her back turned to them. She was lifting a bar with huge thick metal weight plates that likely each weighed about the same as a house, yet she so effortlessly lifted them up and down with the same hands that strangled the most fearsome beasts to death.

Idia stood close at your side, keeping his fingers folded in front of him as he stood slightly slouched, watching the hero with utter disdain before his gaze traveled to you out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move his head. Instead of that same type of hateful loathing he felt towards the protagonist, he looked at you with something else, something less evil and more gentler but equally as chilling.

In an instant, he was gone in a puff of smoke, his voice seeming to echo all around you and even within the confines of your skull. Low and quiet, but haunting. “You know you were never in control, right?”

You were never in control.

You could only watch almost lifelessly as Idia appeared in front of the protagonist. Everyone, everything, began to sound so far away. The crackling fire of the torches on the wall, the voice of the suspicious immortal and wary mortal in the distance, the low howling of the wind beginning to pick up, each one fell on deaf ears.

That one parting line, just five words, made you question everything that you had worked for thus far. Again, there was the question: how much Idia know? Have you been played for a fool? For all your days here, you had been through hell and back, quite literally, doing his bidding in the hopes to exploit the situation and create an ending that suited your preferences. Had he known this, or was it his choice of words messing with your unstable mind? Just as he insinuated that your presence was permeating throughout his mind, this god was driving you mad!

The plot appeared to be progressing as intended, the Lord of the Underworld attempting to trick the Hero into a deal they could not refuse. When Idia snapped his dark bony fingers, instead of seeing plum colored garbs and wavy brown locks of Meg, you felt that dreadful sensation of the cold dead wind knocking the air out of your lungs as you suddenly found yourself thrust into the spotlight of the center colosseum.

All eyes, the two pairs in the vicinity, were on you. You felt yourself go pale. There was a reason Idia had mentioned the fact that the hero knew you existed, and this was it. It was a warning, a hint to his plans. Somehow, someway, the hero cared, and it should have never happened. Why wasn’t Meg here instead?

The hero’s bright blue eyes sparked to life with familiarity. Any mild irritation she expressed while interacting with the immortal were quickly dashed and replaced by genuine concern. “It’s you––”

Immediately your gaze traveled to the Lord of the Underworld, who appeared irked by the mere presence of the protagonist that has gotten in the way of his every attempt. Idia hardly even looked at you, even as the words came rushing out past your lips, “This wasn’t––”

Those cold wisps of smoke gathered, materializing into a rope-like object that restricted your movements. It binds your wrists together, covering your mouth to prevent any sort of noise from leaving your throat.

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why was this happening?

Just before you could hit the dirt ground, the hero’s warm hands inches away from your flesh as she extended her arms out to catch you–– snap! The snap of Idia’s fingers caused that dreaded cold lifeless air to hit you like a slap as you were whisked away from strong safe arms.

For a few sparse seconds, you were in complete and utter darkness. It was cold. Just you and your thoughts, with one more prominent than others: Idia had used you. Toying with you like one of the pawns on his board, pinning you against the unbeatable foe he was currently facing. The god utilizing you as if you were the secret ace up his sleeve, but why? What was stopping Heraclea from decimating you just as she had to his other pawns?

Again, you heard the snap, and you were back in the colosseum. Rapidly you scanned your surroundings, growing more and more disorientated with each snap of his fingers that tossed you back and forth from space to space until you couldn’t tell right from left. What you could still detect was the solid surface beneath you, like those uncomfortable rigid stone benches where the audience would spectate the bloody battles.

“–– that’s the trade off. You give up your strength for twenty-four hours, specifically the next twenty-four hours, and the mortal you’ve been looking for is as free as a bird.” Idia prattled on, speaking quite rapidly whether out of habit, out of the jitters, or due to the time-crunch, but it could’ve been all three fueling his fast-talk. “I mean, you do want them safe, don’t you? That’s the mortal you’ve been looking for, isn't it? The one you’ve spotted in multiple cities, right? Sorta small and meek, the distinct horn-things they got going on there, sad little face, kinda hard to miss ‘em.”

Heraclea had been looking for you. The hero had spotted you in cities–– and the only time you were in civilization was when you were tasked to set up the disasters and accidents that the hero would come to face. Were you sloppy and was this accidental, an opportunity the Lord of the Underworld decided to take full advantage of? Or was this always his intention from the very beginning?

How many times had Heraclea spotted you to grow attached, at least enough to the extent that Idia felt he could safely bet on the hero risking her divine strength to spare you? Each moment flashed through your mind, as you dashed through alleyways and backroads, with the help of Ortho, each time setting off a disaster or a beast to challenge the hero. While Ortho had his strange metallic body which levitated and his holograms to disguise himself, you only had your own two legs to run and a cloak to conceal yourself. How many of those times of sneaking past corners, weaving through crowds, disappearing behind buildings, had Heraclea seen? So engrossed in these thoughts, that you practically missed the intense verbal exchange between the two.

While Heraclea was naive, she wasn’t downright stupid, and Idia merely wanted this to hurry along to remain on schedule.

“––What do you owe these mortals, hm? This is the mortal you’ve wanted to save! Them and their sorry eyes.” In one swift movement, Idia was beside you, his thin fingers forcing you to look straight at the protagonist.

You couldn’t scream, you couldn’t yell, you couldn’t cry. How different would this have turned out, if instead, you had risked turning to Heraclea for help in the very beginning?

Those blue eyes, the kindest blue eyes in the world, peered at you from afar. Was that pity in her eyes as she looked at you?

The god pinched your cheeks between your fingers, as he made you look at her. Really look at her, the woman which you were planning to sacrifice to save your own skin. The woman who was currently contemplating on saving you at her own expense, even if she had no idea that you had aided in the countless attempts to kill her thus far. It’s like Idia wanted you to really get a good look of her before she was gone. “Are you for real going to look straight at that miserable little face and say no? I mean, talk about a letdown. I thought you cared for them––”

“Stop it!” Cutting him off, the hero’s soft gaze at you turned to frown once she focused on the pale immortal. It only took one second. Just one second for her to cave, just as what was intended. You feared being labeled as an enemy by her, but apparently, Idia did not feel the same sort of trepidation. “Swear. Swear that they’ll be safe from any harm.”

Finally letting go, Idia shrugged nonchalantly as he slowly approached Heraclea. He didn’t plan on harming them anyways. This worked out even better than what was imagined. Now, there was absolutely no use for Meg, no need to keep him from harm when it was his own imp that had to be shielded. An imp that risked the lives of others to keep themself safe, and an imp that the Lord of the Underworld wouldn’t allow any harm to befall. “Yeah, fine, whatever. This mortal here remains safe, otherwise you get your strength right back. Everyone goes home happy. M’kay, deal?”

As soon as he outstretched his pale hand, his black-tinted fingers reaching forward, Heraclea eyed his appendage with suspicion. As if she half expected the black on his fingertips to be some sort of deadly poison that would infect her as soon as she touched his hand. Her blue eyes glanced at you for a brief moment.

“Hey, you hear me? Look, you wouldn’t get it, but I’m on a schedule. I need an answer, like, now.” For a flash, a quick moment, his normally calm blue mane appeared to spark red and flicker higher and further across his shoulders.

Again, the hero looked at you. For all she knew, you were an innocent soul held hostage by a god. Yet you were far from innocent.

“Going once.”

You were watching the valiant woman practically seal her certain doom.

“Going twice––”

A fate in which you helped form and doing nothing to stop it.

“Alright…!” Heraclea looked at her own calloused hand with apprehension, but thrust it forward before any hesitation could kick in.

As soon as their hands connected, Idia gave an eager toothy grin. You could only watch as the life and energy was practically drained out of the hero as she sank slowly to her knees like being pulled down by intense crushing gravity. As soon as they let go, it was like seeing the color fade from her. Her healthy glowing tan was reduced to an ashy almost-gray hue, her eyes dimmed as they lost their spark of energy, and she could barely even stand on her own two feet.

Idia no longer held any regard for the now simple mortal, not even sparing her so much as a glance as a wave of his fingers caused the hefty weight she had been training with, to float before crashing against her, practically tossing her to the other side of the colosseum.

You had no idea if she were alive or dead, or nearly dead but left just breathing to receive torment from the titans that would be released only momentarily. There wasn’t even any time to ask or to check her pulse, as Idia snapped and suddenly your restraints dissipated into thin air.

“See, didn’t I tell you, you get into people’s heads?” He remarked far too casually. With another snap, there was chariot-like contraption summoned.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the rubble the hero had landed in. You waited, searching, anticipating some sort of movement. A sign of life.

“Don’t look at her anymore.” Upon seeing this, Idia frowned deeply. The tips of his fiery hair sparked warm hues, the flames growing taller and casting longer shadows. “Why are you still looking at her?” A final movement of his hand had his fingers land on your chin, keeping your head in place so his glowing eyes were peering right down at you. The worst eyes in the world. “Don’t wanna be late now, after all our hard work. If there’s anything left of Heraclea, we’ll have the titans handle the remains so there won’t even be bones to bury. You wanted this, didn’t you? Don’t let the guilt eat you alive now, not when you knew what you were getting into. Usually I’m the downer, but I don’t get why you look so shocked. I’m granting you a front row seat to this cosmic takeover biz, my Puny Little Imp.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #ortho shroud #twst ortho #yandere ortho shroud #idia shroud #twst idia #yandere idia shroud #ignihyde #damnation twst au

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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 28 days ago

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Part 2 to Life Line

(I ain't) Sorry

Pairing: cheater!Price x wife!reader

CW: infidelity. angst. idk is price a cuck now? 18+

Middle fingers up, put them hands high. Wave it in his face, tell him, boy bye (sorry). Tell him, boy bye (sorry) boy bye. Middle fingers up, I ain't thinking 'bout you.

It's been six months since the new rules of John Price's marriage had been established. In public, he is still Captain John Price, a fearless leader, highly decorated, and on track to be a major. John Price was thought to have it all. Two gorgeous children, a darling little girl named Iyana aged six and a charming baby boy named Jackie aged four (who everyone says looks like John made him in the same fashion as a sea sponge. That is to say, through asexual reproduction because they look so much alike).

To top it all off, he had a gorgeous and smart wife who worked with a notable contractor that dealt with information gathering, sorting, and code breaking. Said to be highly requested and sought after to work with military operations, both official and private military based.

Yes, Captain John Price to the public eye, had it all. Despite the blood on his hands, the blackness on his soul and actions, the Lord above gave him a loving family. He was always the man of the hour when he walked into a room.

Right now, though, he didn't feel like a man of the hour that he was thought to be. Right now, he watches his daughter pedal her little pink bike around the front driveway. Her hair ribbons are lopsided, giggles echoing on the wind. It almost sounds and feels like a dream. She's got light up fairy wings, a fairy dress, and tiara, all high-quality custome made in an array of colors and gem stones. It's cute. He thinks it is cute, and it makes his little girl happy. What he can't stand, however, are the pink and white rhinestone cowboy boots. They cost a pretty penny, and she wears them everywhere. She wears them with every outfit.

John hates it. Or better yet, he hates where these items come from.

His son, while he has always been easily pleased, has particularly enjoyed his little hobby horse toy. The saddle has his name painted on the side in deep blue letters that stand out against the deep brown wood.

John hates the damn horse toy and also hates the suspected origins. Both of these things are reminders that his marriage is on the rocks and that it's a reflection of his mistakes. Another man buying his children toys. He has little doubt that it is the same man he is forced to work with.

He leans against the support beam of the front porch, cigar to his lips. He was watching his daughter and keeping also keeping an ear out for his son, who slept in the house. The three of them are waiting for the fourth member of the household. A sleek black car pulls up to the house and Iyana abandons her bike to greet the love of John's life.

You.

His darling, sweet, loving wife, who he wouldn't trade for the world. Even if you are being difficult. It doesn't matter though he's sure this tantrum can't go on forever.

Now you wanna say you're sorry. Now you wanna call me cryin'. Now you gotta see me wildin'. Now I'm the one that's lyin'. And I don't feel bad about it. It's exactly what you get. Stop interrupting my grinding. (You interrupt my grinding)

You shut off the car, and the door swings open. Your saccharine voice carries just about your daughter. "My love! I've missed you!" Nimble fingers push sunshades back onto your forehead as you lean down to sweep her up into a hug.

"Do you like my dress? It came in the mail today!" She shouts, "Daddy helped me into it when we got home from school!"

"It's lovely, my love. You look like a pretty fairy princess." Your eyes appraise her dress and accessories appreciatively. When you finally lay your eyes on John, you offer him a polite smile. "John, I'm glad you could get off early to pick the kids up today."

John isn't focused on your words. His eyes are clearly looking you over, desperatewith want. Since the new rules were put in place and boundaries made known, he has made it clear that he misses you. Each time, you reminded him of the rules and that he was allowed to see other people. You watch as his eyes finally land on the space above your cleavage. Right on the dainty gold chain with only one charm on it.

"You didn't wear that to work, did you?" John grumbles as you walk past him.

"John, am I not allowed to wear jewelry now?" You ask, already over this conversation and wear it is about to head to.

"Sweetheart." He still calls you that. The pet name bristles you, but you tolerate it for the sake of your children. "At least grant me the decency of not wearing his bloody branding in public."

"Iyana, go pack your bag for grand mum's and poppop's house." You usher her towards the steps. She dutifully says yeah and how she's packing all of her new little dresses. Finally, alone with him, you turn to face your husband. "Why does it matter, John?"

A deep sigh escapes him, and he's a bit flustered with frustration. You suppose you'd be frustrated, too, if work was hell. And to be clear, it was only hell because of the new long-term assignments he and several different teams were coordinating on. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"It matters because it bothers me." He finally gets out, "it causes me to feel upset."

You take note of the carefully chosen words. Efforts of his therapy sessions peaking through. While you still won't go with him, he goes once a week when he isn't deployed. The habit started a month into your new reality. Shortly after, he began to be a more present father to the kids. Family weekends that he plans (which you suspect he does as often as possible to keep you with him), attending parent teacher conferences and evenings, and just generally paying more attention when he is home. It's great for the kids, but it's too little too late for you.

"Okay, John." You dismiss him and make your way to the kitchen with his footsteps following close behind. The conversation is clearly not over for you both.

"Was work fine today? I didn't see you at the all hands meeting on base." He leans against the kitchen island.

"My schedule was packed, so I sent my junior to fill in for me. Another PMC is contacting the company they requested me specifically." You dig around the fridge searching for a snack. His eyes are on you again. They always are these days. Since you reentered the workforce and quickly rose in rank, you've changed. You're more confident, more stern, and have leaned into the feeling of being desirable again by other men and women. Opportunities flowed easier to you. Your former boss had welcomed you back with open arms. Her exact words were something along the lines of "Mrs. Price, it's good to have you back. Now, the numbers can make sense again, and I can prepare to retire!"

John huffs, "Yeah, I saw. Kate was annoyed the entire time with the poor girl. And she was too afraid to work with Simon."

You find a snack and smile. "How is Simon?"

"You should know." He bites back with a bit of force. His blue eyes shift away from you, "You aren't sleeping with my lieutenant, are you?" It's a soft question you almost miss. He almost sounds insecure at the idea of one of his boys looking at you that way. And with the rules that are now in place, there's nothing to stop you but their friendship to him.

"John... Now, why would I do such a thing?" You sneer and then laugh. "There isn't anything going on between me and Simon."

"Then why won't you speak with me on base?" He furrows his brow. "People are literally looking at you two funny." And the 'They're looking at me with concern' is left unsaid.

"Because he is the chosen liason I picked for your team?" The scoff you let out is near comical, "Don't be so vain, John Price. If I was going to sleep with anyone it would be Kyle as he is the only one that apologized for not saying anything sooner about you fucking around behind my back. Maybe Johnny because he's good-looking. Tragic that they both are loyal to you, a skill they picked up from somewhere. "

His face turns red with agitation. His eyes go back to the necklace and the charm around your neck. It's a small, dainty, gold little heart, and when the light catches it, an engraved series of numbers and letters can be seen faintly. "So if not them, then who?"

"You know who. Don't be daft." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm gonna be gone all weekend after we drop the kids off at your parents. So you have the house to yourself."

"I'd much rather prefer we spent time together." He tries and smiles sweetly at you.

"I can't. My friend is dying to spend time with me, and he insists upon it, or he will simply die."

It's a beat of silence for a moment. Before he looks away from you. "Is he the one who sent those gifts to the kids? Which I don't appreciate, by the way."

"No. I'm not seeing him tonigt." You say leaving the kitchen, "Phillip has to go back to the States tonight. Won't be back till three days before you all move out."

"Could you at least tell that fuck to not give my kids gifts. It's rather rude, don't you think?" He glares.

"Phillip didn't give the kids those gifts. He gave me money, and then I got them things they've been asking for."

"And the necklace?" He asks. He almost seems like he doesn't want to know. But he keeps digging the hole deeper.

"From my other boyfriend." You glance over your shoulder at him, "instead of worrying about me and who I'm seeing. You should worry about yourself."

The tension is only cut at the sound of your daughter calling for help. She wants help with closing her backpack up.

That night after you and John played happy family infrint of his parents, the drive back home was tense. A quiet that could be heard from miles away even as the radio played, trying its best to ease both of your nerves. It's subtle, but you notice how his eyes cut to you every so often.

"Sweetheart."

"The kids aren't with us John."

"Don't be difficult please."

Your eyes hurt with how they roll. "What is it John?"

"I want to know when we can give us another try." He asks quietly, "I miss you." He grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. "I don't want you running around that fuck Graves, or whoever else your tend to see. You're my wife and I'm your husband. We should at least try to fix our marriage."

You don't say anything and keep your eyes in the passing scenery. This conversation isn't new. It comes up often and when it does you fight like hell to hold your ground. Another deep sigh and you wait in silence for him to continue.

"I love you, always will and never stopped." He says, and the sentiment is there. The way he says it reminds you of days when you were ignorant to his infidelity.

But then your mind conjures up the rage and hurt you experienced when you first saw what was in that folder the private investigator gave you. The embarrassment you felt when you asked Simon, Kyle and Johnny if they knew. They way that none of them could look you in the eyes for weeks. Or the grief that resurface each time your mind wanders over the memory of how he found someone who was similar to you in appearance from before your first child together.

"John, can we not tonight?" You simply avoid his eyes, "We can still get a divorce or you can deal with the way things are. I'm not revisiting any conversations about us or therapy."

"Are you doing this to hurt me back?" He asks. It's the most direct he's ever been with admitting that his actions hurt you. Before it was always a deflection. He wasn't right in the head after missions, he was trying to cope with the miscarriage, anything but outright saying he was a cheater. The tone of his voice cracks a bit with sorrow, but you don't budge.

"No." You state and turn up the radio, ending the conversation.

The car rolls to a stop in the driveway and you hurry out of the car and into the house. You don't want anymore questions or comments from him about the marriage he ruined. You don't want to deal with any nasty emotions that can't be fixed with the wine and sex that is waiting for you. An hour later you're finishing up packing, the house is quiet. The shrill ring of the doorbell pierces the silence of the house. It takes a moment but you hear John walking around downstairs towards the door. There's a bit of a sick thrill that shivers through you at who you know he will find on the otherside of that door. It won't be Phillip, he had already sent his messages that he would call you when he's back in the states.

You zip up your suitcase, check your hair once more in the mirror. When you get down the steps you're mer with John's more than angry glare that seems more hurt than anything. It's ignored as you pass the living room where he is.

You swing open the door, "Hey sweety."

"Hallo Meine Liebe." You're greeted with a hug from a strong embrace, "I'm hoping the guys will leave us be this weekend. They have been irritating since seeing you today and calling your charm necklace a fancy set of dog tags."

In the living room John closes his eyes as he hears you leave. Your laugh trails on the end of your words. And his heart absolutely aches at the idea of you with another man, much less another one he doesn't really like.

"Kökö, your I.D number is on it. Of course they would say that."

a.n: one more part and then I'm done with this mini series. Thank you all for supporting me.

All Night (final)

#captain john price #john price #john price x reader #cheater!john price #captain john price x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #call of duty x reader #black reader #black!fem!reader #angst #captain price x reader

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sfznyxio · 8 months ago

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-ˋˏ FLOW ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. with your auto workshop at risk of closing down, your best friend kira ryosuke offers to introduce you to people who are definitely in need of your high quality services: underground street racers of blue lock, whose obsessions are winning the races. however, your arrival at the track makes them think otherwise.

CHARACTERS. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, barou shouei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, yukimiya kenyu, otoya eita, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

CONTENT. f!reader. street racer au. fluff. 1.3k wc. rewrite of flow at my old main blog @/verxsyon. reader is labeled as “kira (ryosuke’s) girl” because they are always seen together. possessive behavior (barou). mentions of violence (shidou & rin).

VERA. what’s better than egoist soccer players? egoist street racers. you know what could be better than egoist street racers? the reonagi divorce arc in hd— oops, lmao. you know what could be better than the reonagi divorce arc in hd? season 2 premiere this week and sae has more screen time! i also bought a reo figure in his high school soccer uniform to celebrate, and it was the last one too. lucky!

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ISAGI YOICHI

the heart. quickly becomes popular for his freshness to the arena. isagi is a good friend of kira, so there’s one more person you can trust. while in his care as kira meets up with his team, he gives you a tour of blue lock to keep you entertained. sweet and kind, he fetches you water and asks if you feel alright because the racers have been ogling at you since you arrived. interrupted by an uproar caused by a racer who is standing on his car with paint all over his body, isagi is beyond irritated.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BACHIRA MEGURU

the monster. obsessed with spray paint and loves decorating his car with it. bachira is terrible at being an artist. playful and cheerful outside, he holds amateur art performances for the crowd before races to get them pumped up. his gaze makes isagi flinch when he is told by the latter to quiet down. you can still hear the warning of staying close to someone you trust. he emits a dangerous aura, a strong first impression. bachira feels the same when he’s up at your face, studying you intensely.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. CHIGIRI HYOMA

the surge. the fastest racer in blue lock, securing victories at the speed of light. as chigiri approaches bachira to scold him for scaring newcomers, his beauty is so unreal that you don’t even realize you’ve been staring at him. he apologizes for his friend’s antics, justifying that he acts like this before a highly anticipated race. unfortunately, chigiri is not in this one due to a leg injury but luckily has someone helping him to stay in shape: an orange-haired racer waiting at the garage in his car.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

the hero. kunigami has the highest endurance in blue lock, outlasting all racers in long-distance races. he acts like an older brother as he is very protective and solves issues in a civil manner, balancing out his friends’ hot-blooded personalities. kira trusts him enough to take you home as your best friend has matters to take care of. you thank kunigami for the ride and being nice to you. embarrassed, he says he’ll see you at the race and nothing else before zooming away.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BAROU SHOUEI

the king. barou is the racer that kira complains about for as long as you can remember. he’s selfish and arrogant based on what you gathered so far from kira, claiming that the venue is his throne and the next race is his for the taking. his attitude fits your expectations; you already dislike him upon the first encounter. barou has the audacity to “claim” you as his prize when he wins this race. you’ll definitely follow kira’s advice to avoid him for sure when you see this guy again.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MIKAGE REO

the heir. reo considers kira to be one of the best in the arena, besides his best friend, nagi, of course. a master of negotiations due to his status as the future chairman of a corporation, he hopes you will find his terms reasonable and collaborate with him as a business partner. but what he doesn’t expect is you playing hard to get. a pretty rich boy does deserve wild goose chase, making his pursuit exhilarating just like races at blue lock. nagi thinks that what he is doing is a waste of time.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NAGI SEISHIRO

the genius. most people are happy with their achievements, but nagi does not care less as they’re essentially reo’s efforts. all he cares about are his video games and his cactus until you arrive to the arena with kira. all of a sudden, he attempts to impress you; “attempts” being the keyword. yet reo does the work once again by introducing him to you as his precious treasure and brags that you will see nagi’s full potential at the upcoming race. nagi doesn’t find you to be a bother, so he hopes to see you again.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. YUKIMIYA KENYU

the model. his charm is the focal point of his character, which drives the audience nuts. curious by nature, yukimiya wonders about the qualities you possess other than being “kira ryosuke’s girl” and how you manage to get the likes of barou, who treats everyone like trash, and nagi, who thinks of only going home, at your whim. seeing you teach nagi about car anatomy allows him to introduce himself. he believes that there is something special about you, but a friend of his thinks so otherwise.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OTOYA EITA

the ninja. otoya claims to be not like his fellow racers and prefers to stay in the shadows. he doesn’t see you as an angel sent by god in the form of a mechanic to fix their cars, not understanding why everyone is smitten by you. he isn’t interested in interacting with you at first, however, that is proven wrong when yukimiya makes you laugh at a silly joke. it’s rude to make you feel unwelcome, so he decides to give you a chance. a crow- like racer mocks him for thinking he doesn’t find you attractive one bit.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KARASU TABITO

the assassin. all about good vibes and good times, karasu does not want anyone to act “mediocre” around you. many newcomers are notorious for never setting foot in this place after their first round. he is relieved to hear that you came at your own volition thanks to kira. majority of racers you met so far are nice to you, so he doesn’t need to worry about making an impromptu spiel of why blue lock is great. if you think he’s too friendly for your taste, what about the guy stalking you right now.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SHIDOU RYUSEI

the joker. unrestrained both in words and action, shidou goes about his day and does everything as he pleases. judging by how yukimiya, otoya, and karasu are quick to shield you, he’s bad news. the altercation grabs kunigami’s attention, who he has massive beef with. being “kira’s girl” doesn’t phase him, nor your best friend going after his head for being near you. one of his rivals isn’t amused by the ongoing circus act, as if he didn’t break his nose in the previous race.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI RIN

the puppeteer. rin has a score to settle with his older brother, sae, who is betting on shidou for the next race. physical violence is a usual solution to settle arguments, and it’s worse for rin to be involved in another fight with shidou, especially before a race that determines his fate and prove to his brother that he’s the best of the best. he doesn’t spare a glance at you or ask if you’re alright, as sae walks into the garage to check out the commotion.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI SAE

the prodigy. sae is one of the top eleven racers at the underground. you now know that he is betting on shidou for the upcoming race. rin does not seem pleased. even if it’s not obvious at face value, everyone can tell that there’s bad blood between the brothers by the intense atmosphere created from their staring contest. sae looks at you then at his brother, who he scoffs at for his lack of concern for you. for a girl to experience this in the first week, he’ll stop by your shop as reparation after the race.

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astrolook · 1 month ago

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💖🌸 Venus As Darakaraka - A Ceritified Lover 🌸💖

Read Mercury and Mercury Rx as Darakaraka!

Note: These are just my personal observations and recurring patterns I've noticed over the years from married clients, relatives and friends. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest. Feel free to share in the comments if any of this hits home. This post is based on Vedic astrology.

Venus as Darakaraka - When the cosmos says “you’re into vibes, not resumes.”

When Venus is your Darakaraka, your partner is likely to be romantic, artistic, and deeply invested in self-care. They take pride in their appearance, from skincare and haircare to choosing the right perfumes and clothing. Their aesthetic sense extends to everything they do, whether it’s curating their wardrobe, decorating their space, or engaging in creative pursuits like music, painting, or writing. Some may even enjoy growing their own veggies or gardening.

Your spouse will have big dreams of owning a beautiful home, ideally a spacious one with manicured lawns, a pet, and children. They are self-sufficient and willing to spend on themselves, whether it’s for beauty treatments, skincare, or perhaps even the occasional indulgence in luxurious experiences. Cooking might also be one of their talents, as they enjoy both creating and sharing meals.

Visually-oriented, they appreciate beauty in all forms, from movies and fashion to travel and cultural experiences. Expect them to love trying new restaurants, exploring different cuisines, and shopping for clothing from various cultures. Professionally, they may be involved in industries like media and entertainment, cosmetics, electronics, real estate, retail, hospitality, or consumer goods.

Their relationships with family are also noteworthy. They might have a sister they are very close to, who is more chatty and playful but equally supportive of you. Your spouse will take pride in a clean home and may get irritated by small inconveniences. If they are financially comfortable, they might hire a maid for cleaning and chores but still maintain high standards of cleanliness. However, when they’re feeling down or depressed, they may neglect themselves, possibly overeating or skipping meals, losing interest in personal care.

Fertility is strong with Venus as Darakaraka, so starting a family might happen sooner than expected. If protection was not used before marriage, an unplanned pregnancy could be in the cards. Your spouse (for husband) may sport either a clean-shaven look with smooth skin or a well-groomed beard, maintaining their appearance with pride.

For a wife, expect someone who is fertile, healthy, and carries a well-proportioned body, often with medium to long hair, fuller lips, and thick eyebrows. They might also be prone to hyperpigmentation and love receiving compliments about their appearance. They are not ones to shop at thrift stores as they prefer quality over quantity and are willing to save up for their favorite items.

When it comes to relationships, they have a high libido, and might either enjoy romantic movies or indulge in crushes, fantasizing about being the lead character in a love story. With their natural charisma, they tend to attract attention, and you might have to deal with that even after you’re together. If Venus is placed in the 6th, 8th, 10th, 11th, or 12th houses, be cautious, as they may be prone to extramarital affairs, particularly in fire or water signs.

Venus in the 7th, 9th, 11th, or 12th houses can indicate a partner from a different culture, someone you may not initially find your type, but who you feel an undeniable, fated attraction to. When Venus is in the 1st house, your spouse will likely treat you like a king/ queen or the other way around, making you feel like the center of their world and vice versa. Venus in the 2nd house will indulge you, sometimes to the point of spoiling you or encouraging excess, particularly in food and drink. Venus in the 3rd house loves taking you out on frequent dates and showing you off to their friends and family. If Venus is in the 5th house, you’ve found a perfect life partner like someone who could also be an amazing parent similar to 7th. Venus in the 8th house suggests wealth through marriage, possibly an inheritance, as your spouse is likely to be financially well-off and generous with their resources.

💫 Venus Combos and What They Say About Your Spouse 💫

💚 Venus + Mercury - Expect a younger, baby-faced spouse who may be significantly younger than you. They're witty, charming, and possibly into writing, painting, or other artistic hobbies. If Mercury is retrograde, they might be more reserved in love or less experienced in relationships, but still very talented and expressive.

☀️ Venus + Sun - Your spouse could have a higher social or professional status, admired by many and naturally stands out in a crowd. Think someone confident, radiant, and maybe even self-employed or entrepreneurial.

🌙 Venus + Moon - This combo? Literal beauty/ handsome. Your spouse will have a stunning face, glowing skin that reflects light, and lush, healthy hair. They're soft, nurturing, and emotionally in tune.

🔥 Venus + Mars - The chemistry is 🔥. Your spouse radiates raw sexual energy and may unintentionally turn heads everywhere. They're likely fit and active. In some cases, this combo can bring intense attraction and occasional temptations for them outside wedlock.

🌍 Venus + Jupiter - Foreign connection! Your spouse might be from a different culture, and they love the finer things in life like food, drinks, luxury. If Jupiter is retrograde, the foreign influence still stands, but you may be the one introducing them to indulgent pleasures or spoiling them with your taste.

⏳ Venus + Saturn - Age gap alert! Your spouse could be older, but there's definitely a maturity contrast. If this pair is in the 7th, 9th, 11th, or 12th house, a foreign or long-distance connection is likely. If Saturn is retrograde, the dynamic flips as your spouse could be child-like and laidback, while you take on the more mature, grounding role.

Next Post will be about Mars as Darakaraka!

Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? ✨🔍 DM me for a full astrology reading, a 5 or 8-year marriage report, or a detailed synastry breakdown 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐💖

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supremeat · 9 months ago

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PANELLO - GOLD

Transforming Spaces: The Versatility of Slat Wall Panels, MDF Panels, and Wall Profiles

In contemporary interior design, versatility and functionality are key. This is where innovative materials like slat wall panels, MDF panels, and wall profiles come into play. These elements not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of a space but also offer practical solutions for organization and customization.

Slat Wall Panels: A Modern Solution for Display and Storage

Slat wall panels are an excellent choice for both residential and commercial spaces. Their design consists of horizontal slats mounted on a wall, which allows for the easy attachment of various accessories such as shelves, hooks, and baskets. This modular approach provides a customizable storage solution that can be adapted to fit different needs. Retailers and homeowners alike appreciate slat wall panels for their ability to create organized, visually appealing displays. They are particularly popular in retail environments for showcasing products, but their use is expanding into home decor, garages, and office spaces.

MDF Panels: A Blend of Functionality and Elegance

Medium-Density Fiberboard (MDF) panels are a staple in modern interior design due to their versatility and smooth finish. Made from wood fibers and resin, MDF panels are engineered to provide a stable, durable surface that can be easily cut, shaped, and painted. This makes them ideal for a wide range of applications, from cabinetry and wall panels to intricate moldings and custom furniture. Their smooth texture allows for a high-quality finish, making MDF panels a preferred choice for projects that demand a polished look.

Wall Profiles: Enhancing Architectural Elements

Wall profiles are essential for adding finishing touches and architectural details to a space. These profiles come in various shapes and sizes, including cornices, architraves, and skirting boards. They serve both decorative and functional purposes, framing windows and doors, covering joints between walls and ceilings, and adding character to otherwise plain surfaces. Wall profiles can be made from materials like MDF, polyurethane, or plaster, each offering unique benefits in terms of durability and ease of installation.

Conclusion: Combining Style and Function

Incorporating slat wall panels, MDF panels, and wall profiles into your design strategy can significantly elevate the look and functionality of any space. Slat wall panels offer flexible storage and display options, MDF panels provide a versatile and high-quality surface for various applications, and wall profiles add refined details that enhance the overall aesthetic. Together, these elements create a cohesive and stylish environment that meets both practical and design needs.

Whether you're revamping a retail space, updating your home decor, or designing an office, these materials offer numerous possibilities for customization and innovation. Embrace their potential to transform your surroundings with elegance and efficiency.

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novlr · 5 months ago

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Any tips on how to describe indoor spaces so they feel real and match the vibe of the story without throwing in too much detail?

Getting interior scenes just right is all about finding the balance between setting the mood, showing the unique personality of your story world, and keeping the plot moving. There are lots of ways you can use senses, action, and background to set a scene, all of which can work seamlessly with the type of story you want to tell. Here are some tips on how you can achieve that:

How does it look?

Lighting: does your space contain the soft glow of lamps, harsh fluorescent lights, or natural light?

Use colour and textures like peeling paint, plush velvet, or sleek marble.

Size and scale: is it claustrophobically small or impressively grand?

Architectural features: does the space have high ceilings, crown mouldings, or exposed beams?

Furnishings: are they modern, sparse, antique, or cluttered?

Style and decor: what style is represented, and how does it affect the atmosphere?

State of repair: is the space well-kept, neglected, or under renovation?

Perspective and layout: how do spaces flow into each other?

Unique design features: describe sculptural elements, or things that stand out.

Spatial relationships: describe how objects are arranged—what’s next to, across from, or underneath something else?

How does it sound?

Describe echoes in large spaces or the muffled quality of sound in carpeted or furnished rooms.

Note background noises; is there a persistent hum of an air conditioner, or the tick of a clock?

Describe the sound of footsteps; do they click, scuff, or are they inaudible?

Include voices; are they loud and echoing or soft and absorbed?

Is there music? Is it piped in, coming from a live source, or perhaps drifting in from outside?

Capture the sounds of activity; typing, machinery, kitchen noises, etc.

Describe natural sounds; birds outside the window, or the rustle of trees.

Consider sound dynamics; is the space acoustically lively or deadened?

Include unexpected noises that might be unique to the building.

Consider silence as a sound quality. What does the absence of noise convey?

How does it smell?

Identify cleaning products or air fresheners. Do they create a sterile or inviting smell?

Describe cooking smells if near a kitchen; can you identify specific foods?

Mention natural scents; does the room smell of wood, plants, or stone?

Are there musty or stale smells in less ventilated spaces?

Note the smell of new materials; fresh paint, new carpet, or upholstery.

Point out if there’s an absence of smell, which can be as notable as a powerful scent.

Consider personal scents; perfume, sweat, or the hint of someone’s presence.

Include scents from outside that find their way in; ocean air, city smells, etc.

Use metaphors and similes to relate unfamiliar smells to common experiences.

Describe intensity and layering of scents; is there a primary scent supported by subtler ones?

What can you do there?

Describe people’s actions; are they relaxing, working, hurried, or leisurely?

Does the space have a traditional use? What do people come there to do?

Note mechanical activity; elevators moving, printers printing, etc.

Include interactions; are people talking, arguing, or collaborating?

Mention solitary activities; someone reading, writing, or involved in a hobby.

Capture movements; are there servers bustling about, or a janitor sweeping?

Observe routines and rituals; opening blinds in the morning, locking doors at night.

Include energetic activities; perhaps children playing or a bustling trade floor.

Note restful moments; spaces where people come to unwind or reflect.

Describe cultural or community activities that might be unique to the space.

How is it decorated?

Describe the overall style; is it minimalist, baroque, industrial, or something else?

Note period influences; does the decor reflect a specific era or design movement?

Include colour schemes and how they play with or against each other.

Mention patterns; on wallpaper, upholstery, or tiles.

Describe textural contrasts; rough against smooth, shiny against matte.

Observe symmetry or asymmetry in design.

Note the presence of signature pieces; a chandelier, an antique desk, or a modern art installation.

Mention thematic elements; nautical, floral, astronomical, etc.

Describe homemade or bespoke items that add character.

Include repetitive elements; motifs that appear throughout the space.

What is its history?

Mention historical usage; was the building repurposed, and does it keep its original function?

Describe architectural time periods; identify features that pinpoint the era of construction.

Note changes over time; upgrades, downgrades, or restorations.

Include historical events that took place within or affected the building.

Mention local or regional history that influenced the building’s design or function.

Describe preservation efforts; are there plaques, restored areas, or visible signs of aging?

Describing indoor spaces doesn’t have to feel like a chore. Focus on the details that matter most, tie them to the mood or characters, and let your readers fill in the blanks. A well-crafted space not only sets the scene but builds your character's relationship to it. Use sensory language, background, and action beats to tie it into your narrative, and don’t be afraid to play around with motifs and contradictions, depending on who is experiencing it!

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing tips #writing resources #creative writing #writers #writing #writing community #creative writers #writing inspiration #writerblr #writing advice #writing reference #writers on tumblr #ask novlr #writer

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kurooh · 5 months ago

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❆ SLEIGH RIDE !

KINKMAS 2024 — christmas choking + suguru geto

❆ desc. your first time on a sleigh being pulled by curses is supposed to remain on the ground, but you quickly find yourself above ground and atop something else. ready to become a member of the mile high club?

❆ warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, cunnilingus, choking, sex in the air, some asphyxiation, gojo cameo, creampie, fluff. | 3.9k words

geto suguru has never been on a sleigh.

he has never seen one in action or outside of a television screen. hell, he didn’t even know the difference between sleighs and sleds! until you convinced him to hunt down a few reindeer-like curses and fix up an old sleigh from a yard sale.

the thing was a shell of itself, with red paint flaking off all sides and creaking loudly each time it was pushed so much as an inch. when you worked together tirelessly to restore the sleigh so it could be a neat lawn decoration, you’d pitched a brilliant idea to him — why not absorb some suitable curses to pull the sleigh around?

fractions of the waning sunlight shine on the fluffy snow and highlight the new quality of the sleigh’s red paint. wispy curses gallop ahead, pulling the sleigh steadily, and snow crunches beneath their hooves. their bodies are tangled with green loops of rope, a cursed tool that attaches them to the sleigh and acts as a harness.

this is sweet, like the candy canes that suguru loves in the winter and the smell of the candles you’re planning to give him for christmas. you look ahead, silently savoring his company and the idyllic scene. it’s like you’ve just jumped into a photo on pinterest—you’ve got the clothes, sleigh, surroundings, and man to boot.

“my girl looks so pretty when she’s smiling,” suguru says softly, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “let me guess, is it the sleigh ride? or me?”

the gentle jingling of the sleigh bells grows distant as you turn toward him with a laugh, catching his eyes. “both. the scenery is beautiful, and so are you.”

he sticks out his tongue, rolling his eyes dramatically. “bleh, beautiful? really?”

“fine. handsome, sexy, attractive, delicious,” with each word, you lean an inch closer until your lips are so close and yet so far apart. your breath warms the small space between you and gets his heart picking up its pace. “is that better, sugu?”

“definitely, sweetheart,” suguru replies, cheeks heating up despite the cold air. “are you gonna kiss me or do i have to make the first move, like always?”

“oh, i was just teasing you,” you titter, pulling back the moment his fingertips ghost along your cheek. he throws you an offended glance, tipping his head up and jutting his chin out. “don’t look at me like that, you do this to me all the time.”

suguru shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes ahead and focused on the reindeer-ish curses. a plethora of colors paints the sky as the sun disappears beyond the horizon, the temporary dawn illuminating the backs of the curses and emphasizing the shadows on the snow. a small bump in the otherwise smooth ride is just the beginning—a moment later, there seems to be a sudden choppiness that bucks you nearly a foot up off the bench.

it seems like the runners have gotten caught on something, making the curses stumble off kilter. the sleigh swerves to the side and so do you with a startled gasp, right into suguru’s awaiting arms (and lap). he steals a kiss to your cheek, and the chaste action sends a ripple of heat through your body.

“seems like there’s been some turbulence,” suguru comments, his voice low near your ear.

“oh,” you flounder for something to say instead of moving off his lap, at a loss for words now that the little tease has been flipped on its head. “i wasn’t holding on, and the curses, they—they probably tripped.”

“they look fine to me,” he whispers, nodding towards the recovered curses in question. it’s as if they’d never stumbled in the first place. “it’s not like you tried to stop yourself.”

instead of coming up with some annoying, sly answer, you’re busy being consumed by suguru’s heated gaze. the desire is painfully obvious in those pretty eyes of his, and in those explorative touches along your back that make you shiver. he’s got his hands beneath your fluffy winter coat and on your skin, his fingers heating you up much faster than the downy material.

“give me that kiss,” he almost demands, a pleading edge to his voice. “i caught you, didn’t i?”

at first, your lips meet gently—a soft touch that makes the world around you disappear. to encourage you closer, suguru’s hand lightly cradles your face, the pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your jaw. for a moment, the kiss is full of something tender and sweet, but then something shifts into place and it deepens.

your breath catches in your throat as his lips move against yours urgently, right before he slips his tongue between your parted lips. your hands can’t help but seek purchase in his neatly bound hair, fingers pulling the dark tresses from their hold and tugging. he groans into your mouth, his cock hardening in his pants; the close proximity instills a sweltering heat inside you that radiates through your clothing and pools into your panties.

the once frigid air now crackles with a certain electricity; he’s hot and hard beneath you, which is something that melts your inhibitions away like snow near a fireplace. are you actually about to cast away the cuteness of a sleigh ride in favor of something utterly filthy? yes, you are — and you don’t regret it one bit. clearly, suguru doesn’t either, not with the way he’s impatiently shifting you around on his lap.

“move your hips f’me, baby,” he grunts, nose bumping into yours when he comes up for air, his hands settling on each side of your waist. “show me how much you want this cock, hm?”

“o-okay,” you pant, chasing after his lips while you roll your hips onto him. god, you’re already soaking wet, just from weakly humping his clothed cock. whiny moans pour from your lips and he hushes you with endless kisses, along with a splayed hand at the small of your back, which guides you whenever you start to slow down.

the curses race onwards, and there’s a little more turbulence before there’s nothing at all. literally, nothing at all—confused, you crack open an eye, movements pausing as you take in your surroundings. just like magic, the sleigh is rising off the ground and being pulled into the dark sky.

you’re trembling on suguru’s lap, half startled and half turned on. only he could have this effect on you, making you drip wetter with excitement at the prospect of flying into the clouds. the hand that was once resting on the small of your back now pushes into your skin insistently, and suguru’s acting as though you’re still on the ground, completely unfazed.

“why’d you stop, sweetheart? is something the matter?” the corners of his lips curl into a mischievous smile as he protectively hugs you closer.

“we’re in the sky,” you swallow slowly, fingers absentmindedly toying with the metal button of his pants. silky, sable tresses blow in the air like thick ribbons behind him, and the comforting scent of his shampoo wafts into your face. “did you tell them to—what the hell even happened?”

suguru clasps your hands together with his own, helping you undo the button. he’s unbothered as he works the zipper down before moving onto what you’re wearing. “i suppose they brought us up here on their own,” he lifts you off of his lap, ignoring the small scream that tears from your throat. instead of letting you slip and fall out of the sleigh, suguru sits you down on the bench and sinks to his knees.

dark pupils dilate against amethyst irises, his heavy gaze fixed on what’s between your thighs. yes, his favorite christmas gift; suguru could probably pass as santa claus, with how often he eats a certain cookie...

you’re trembling as suguru slowly peels the thin panties away from your wet cunt, his eyes hungrily following the glossy strings of slick that move with the material. brisk wind rushes into your face, and your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to resist the discomfort.

“hey, it’s cold up here,” you complain, letting him pull your hips up to his face. you’re like putty in his hands and effortlessly giving in to him—suguru notices, and he’s ready to reward you. “my nose is—shit,” you gasp, breath catching in your throat when his tongue flicks through your sticky folds.

“your nose is cold, honey?” he supplies, finishing your sentence for you while buried between your splayed legs. “tuck your face into your coat.”

all too soon, you’re reduced to a dumb, babbling mess—but this is what always happens when suguru’s between your thighs, eating your pussy like he’s been starving for days. that silky tongue of his roughly pushes into you, and his eyes dart up to yours in a silent command.

use me, that look reads, and who are you to defy him?

with a breathless moan, you brace yourself with a hand in his hair and the other planted on the bench. “mmm, fuuck—was this what you’d been planning since we got into this thing?”

“maybe,” suguru murmurs coyly, smacking his lips before taking your clit between them. his cold, slick fingers nudge against your hot pussy when he slides them inside. the dichotomy between the temperatures makes your eyes roll back into your skull as you weakly thrust against his face.

above the thin clouds, you’re only able to see the bright moon and the dimmed lights of the city beneath. you shakily inhale, surprised by the lack of oxygen this high up; each breath is more elusive the harder you pant, and it makes your head spin in a way that compliments suguru’s ministrations.

the tip of his nose brushes against your pelvic bone and he finds that he has trouble breathing too. he quickly forgets about the whole thing once he spits onto your clit, watching the shimmery glob trail down your slit and onto his fingers. your chest heaves in effort and you close your eyes, pushing suguru’s head deeper.

“mmmph, baby,” he moans wetly, grasping with his free hand to pull your body closer. “y-you’re always so fuckin’ hot, shit.”

oh, that’s right. it’s freezing up in the sky, but suguru’s like a match, keeping your fire stoked and fueling his own.

your head weakly rests against the backing of the bench, lips parting around countless moans of ah’s and ooh’s. suguru’s shoulders shake as he devours you, the wind blowing his hair onto your thighs or against your tummy. it tickles, and because of the sensitivity, it’s also extremely stimulating—your hips jerk forward, clit throbbing between his lips.

as your cunt sporadically clenches around his relentless fingers, you feel your back arching up and off the bench, thighs squeezing tightly around his head.

“h-hey, sugu,” you whimper breathlessly, “god, fuckkk—gonna cum, ‘m so close,” that unadulterated desperation in your voice sparks something inside him, something that compels him to yank you forward so he can really dive in.

suguru’s smacking and licking sloppily at your overstimulated cunt, pushing you right off the edge and carrying you through the fall. a euphoric cry tears from your throat as you shudder uncontrollably, panting out clouds into the air. when you finally release him, his face is a complete mess—rosy cheeks glossy with wetness, nose and mouth smeared with sticky cream.

and his eyes—they’re sparkling like he’s just opened the best christmas gift ever, some kind of horny joy shining in his violet irises.

“s-shit,” you exhale, drunk on him as much as he is you, “we need to go down a ‘lil, can’t breathe.”

suguru lets out a small laugh at your slurred words, wiping a hand across his face while the curses start to gallop downwards at a slow pace. he sidles up beside you on the bench, making no move to pull your pants up for you.

“that’s not fair,” you shiver, blindly rifling around for your panties if they haven’t fallen out of the sleigh. “y-you’ve still got all your clothes on.”

he tugs you toward him, effectively halting your search for the panties. “sweetheart, i’m nowhere near finished with you.”

“yeah?” you snark, teeth chattering, “gonna even the playing field and strip down too?”

“already taken care of,” he hums, pulling you into his lap. suguru’s boxers and pants are bunched at his knees and you’re mere inches away from his cock. damn, he must’ve done all that while you were talking to him.. again and again, he proves he’s great with his fingers.

“be a good girl ‘n sit down on it,” he huffs, an arm wrapped around you while he holds his cock upright by the base. with the moon behind you as your only source of light, though dim, you can see the thick outline of his length and even the veins that run along it. it’s always a stretch with him, and you sniffle out a whine as you slowly sink down.

“what a greedy fucking pussy,” suguru bites out, watching as it swallows inch after inch of his cock. once he finally bottoms out inside you, tip flush against your cervix, you’re both groaning, although he’s much louder than you.

“god, you’re just the gift that keeps on giving.”

you clumsily paw at his shoulders, mewling when he gifts your bare ass with a smack. it already stings, and the cool air immediately rushes over the skin, providing a few extra licks of pain. suguru lightly nips at your neck, tongue flicking behind your earlobe.

“ride it, sweetheart. don’t make me have to help you out, ‘kay?”

you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip. he’s so damn deep, filling you up and stretching you out all at once. slowly, you raise your hips and steady yourself; then you’re starting to bounce on his cock, feeling each punchy thrust right into your cervix.

“sugu—oooh! f-fuck, ngh,” you’re breathing hard and sucking up the thin air, sweat beading on your forehead as you exert yourself. no longer are the sleigh bells jingling softly; instead, they’re rattling against the wood because of the high speed. but with his cock inside you, making your tummy bulge just a little, you’re unable to fully comprehend the fact that you’re racing through the sky.

sable tresses drape over the edge of the bench, tangling in the blowing wind and flying into your faces. suguru’s gasping, and his flushed lips are kissing away the drool that seeps from the corner of your lips.

he feels amazing, but it’s nearly impossible to fight off the exhaustion that settles in your limbs and prepares to stay. the once loud smacks of skin against skin and wet squelches begin to diminish quickly as you wilt against him, head hanging over his shoulder tiredly.

“‘m sorry, sugu,” you cry, feeling the tingling sparks of euphoria dissipating inside you, “i really—oh, i can’t keep going . . need you to make us cum, sugu.”

gingerly, he plants a kiss to your neck and chuckles, grabbing at your ass like freshly made dough. “thought i said i wouldn’t,” he grouses, although he’s not entirely upset. “who’s gonna control the curses, hmm?”

“we’ll be fine,” you mumble, sliding your cold hands up beneath his coat and shirt. “just for a minute or two. you started it, so finish it.”

“oooh, aren’t you sassy,” suguru clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes before wrapping a light hand around your throat. his fingers don’t dig too hard into the sides of your neck and you’re a little thankful since the air’s so thin up here. “if we start plummeting, it’s your turn.”

“stop it,” you huff, eyelids fluttering shut when he finally sets his hand onto your hip and starts to move you. god, he’s balls deep and groaning your name, along with various curses and praises. wet squelches and sticky smacks of skin on skin fill the air—the utterly nasty sounds have you squeezing hard around him.

his grip tightens on your neck and he grits his teeth, feeling the beginning sparks of pure bliss. it’s no use when he’s inside you, but he tries to fight it off any way, cheeks splotching a darker pink. “ngh, shit. i need to—hah—feel you cum with me, all over my cock.”

all too quickly, your hand wanders between your legs, and you gasp out clouds of breath when your fingers find your swollen clit. through the haze, you’re able to notice the new course of the sleigh—you’re racing downwards, much like a car on a rollercoaster.

your stomach flips and you start to sob out his name, enamored by the exhilarating rush of it all. “s-sugu, fuckkk—‘m gonna cum.”

“yeah?” he pants, gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises. you feel him adjust you to the side, giving his cock deeper access at another angle. “you better cum hard for me, sweetheart. we’re not getting off this damn sleigh ‘til you’re crying.”

as if on cue, a few horny tears gather in your eyes, but they don’t splash down your cheeks just yet. you hiccup out his favorite words, eyes rolling back into your skull. “yes, r-right there! fuck, ‘m cumming,” suguru interprets this as permission to finally cum too, and his mouth falls open, cock spurting white into you.

in your boots, your toes curl as your cunt squeezes him impossibly deeper, the both of you temporarily oblivious to the bumpy sleigh. the city lights are suddenly becoming clear, and suguru regains control of the curses, his energy flaring as he commands them to fly back up.

“heh, that was close,” he lets out a shaky exhale and releases his grip on your neck, pulling you into his chest. the winter coats swish quietly as they come into contact with one another, and suguru feels a persistent buzzing at his side. “you were supposed to take control if that happened. lazy girl.”

“if you were asphyxiating like i was, i think you’d also be tired,” you sigh, shivering as suguru notices a persistent buzzing at his side. in a pathetic attempt to prevent him from picking up and answering, you mischievously start to shift on his lap again. but really, who the hell is calling him right now and why is there still reception this high up?

that inevitable sensitivity creeps up on him and makes him shudder as he pulls out his phone, clumsily swiping to answer on a very familiar caller id. his shaky thumb misses the green button and he bites his lip, stiffening when you press your lips to the shell of his ear.

“aw, don’t answer it,” you murmur, voice smooth and easily convincing. oh, he’s quick to notice the dazed, blissed out look in your half lidded eyes and the sultry implication in your next words. “c’mon, sugu. you’ll ruin all the fun.”

but it’s too late. letting out a resigned sigh, suguru shakes his head and finally answers the phone. with a precarious glance tossed your way, he hoarsely speaks up. “hello? satoru?”

“took you long enough, suguru,” gojo’s cheerful voice rings through the phone, confident and unbothered. “what’s going on up there? i can feel your cursed energy going haywire. it’s all over the damn sky.”

he freezes immediately, fingers cautiously digging into the plush skin of your hips. you offer him an innocent shrug, adjusting on his cock once more; heat flares in his gut and he flounders for words. “satoru, it’s . . nothing important. it’s just the rainbow dragon flying around, heh.” shameless delight has your heart kicking in your ribcage when your ears catch the unusual tightness in his voice.

“nothing important?” gojo laughs, the smirk obvious in his voice. “you’re causing a storm over the city. and come on! you haven’t summoned that one in years.”

suguru’s face twists into a grimace and he desperately tries to stay quiet against the quickening pace of your rocking hips. he hopes that the awkwardness will be enough of a hint and dissolve into the goodbye he’s been dying for since picking up the phone.

“it’s coming down in waves.” gojo laughs at the silence, pausing briefly to look up into the sky. it takes him a moment, but he’s able to push past the choking plumes of suguru’s cursed energy to pinpoint yours. “oh, wait. holddd up, suguru.”

“huh? look, i’ve gotta go, satoru,” he nearly stumbles over his words, “i’m busy with some new curses.”

“don’t tell me you’re busy with her up there, suguru,” gojo remarks suggestively, “no wonder you’re flying all around like a cursed santa claus.”

suguru’s face flushes and he glances helplessly at you, searching your face in hopes of coming up with an acceptable answer. “cut it out. we’re just fine, satoru.”

“bleh, you could’ve just rented a plane, you freak.”

suguru doesn’t even entertain his best friend with a response, swiftly hanging up and tossing the phone to the bench. “i hope you’re happy,” he grumbles dryly, cock twitching inside you. “that was fun, huh?”

he’s half irritated, half in seventh heaven. “i know, i know. he’ll forget about it in a month.”

“in a few months,” suguru corrects you with narrowed eyes that still glint with playfulness despite his embarrassment. he pulls you close as the sleigh starts to drift toward the ground, the curses bracing to land. “besides the call, that was a great ride.”

you can’t stop grinning, leaning in to kiss away the pout on his lips. “next time, leave your phone at home so you don’t get us into this mess again, hehe.”

#kurooh #kinkmas #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #smut #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines

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lexirosewrites · 2 months ago

Note

I like the idea of like an omegas nest isn't just relegated to the bedroom or alphas den, sure that's the center of their nest & the area they fuss over the most in the day to day but I think tht in a modern society not worried abt which cave or group of trees will provide the best shelter tht the nest extends into the majority of the living space; the color of the walls, seating, throw blankets, the art & photos on said colorful walls, & for some omegas this feeling can even encompass basically the entire kitchen set up. All of tht is considered a part of their nest & a way to showcase their ability to care for their pack. it's a very flexible & permeable line tho bc an alphas den is also considered to extend to the larger living space now too but for many alphas this mostly translates into ensuring the space remains livable i.e. making sure whatever breaks gets fixed

All this to set up my omegaverse steddie mafia au thoughts

O!Steve as a struggling to get by elementary school art teacher (i cannot decide on an age group so he gets to work w all of them lol) who left the mob life behind after his parents disowned him when he graduated w his teaching degree & subsequently refused every alpha they tried to arrange a mating with

His best friend in the whole world A!Robin (who is a middle school band teacher) is adjacent to the mafia world Steve grew up in, her mom is a mob lawyer & stobin grew up as childhood friends.

They live together to handle rent being high + food costs r ridiculous on a band/art teachers salary & unfortunately this means neither is rlly able to properly nest/den beyond their bedrooms. Steve's nest is meager anyway since he threw out or burned everything w a scent on it from his "family" & Robin did the same.

Cut to:

Stobin r out one weekend at a sort of new club (it's been open almost a yr) just letting loose, they pregame at home & have bought a single drink each bc damn alcohol is expensive. When the two go together to the bathroom (bc srsly the bathroom when ur drunk w ur best friend just hits different) suddenly on their way out some bug burly guys r blocking their path & ushering them rather roughly into an "office" overlooking the club.

Where they meet the owner of the club & newest mob boss trying to expand his territory; Alpha Eddie "The Freak"

Eddie is intent on ransoming Steve & Robin to get the upper hand in a deal w Steve's parents... but when he meets Steve's eyes it's like everything fades away & all at once both of them know tht the other is their soulmate

Well...

Eddie still tries to ransom them (while also treating them both like honored guests as they stay at a safe house or something) but quickly learns tht the Harrington's & Robin's mom suck major ass & so he's just like... "Steve, Robin, do either of u care abt ur parents & their underlings?" Then proceeds to wipe out the entire Harrington family minus A!Carol Perkins who'd been covertly feeding Steve & Robin any info they needed to stay out of the Harrington parents grasp (I rlly like good friend Carol Perkins ok)

Shenanigans ensue bc I think it'd b kinda funny if this was a sweet fluffy kinda of story w like organized crime & murder happening in the background lol

crack ship a!carol/a!robin/a!chrissy happens bc Robin deserves it

then steddie court (eddie must get robin & carols seal of approval, he doesnt need it but he knows steve cares abt what the 2 alpha women think) then get married & mated & Steve is given free reign of like basically every home Eddie owns (which he immediately includes Steve on the deeds of plus buys a few places w only Steve on the deed) & Steve gets to nest like never before

He starts w the main residence they use most frequently: works w Eddie to change paint colors, buys the best quality nesting blankets/sheets/pillows & Eddie scents all of it with a single mindedness Steve just has to kiss him for, he gets to rearrange decor/art & include his meager knickknacks & buy new things to decorate with, he gets to repurpose an entire room into an art space at every residence. Slowly Steve works his way thru the homes in the US then moves on to the vacation home in Austria (idk I think Austria is beautiful)

When Steve becomes pregnant after a year of not trying followed by a yr of actively trying (2 yrs) the nesting goes into overdrive as he gets everything prepared for their baby, Eddie is not immune to this & his den instinct also goes into overdrive making him invest in all new security systems & testing said systems & he also rearranges the den in every residence while Steve directs him on where the furniture should move.

Then after 9 months of baby nesting & den making Steve has a home birth. On June 28th their little bundle comes into the world healthy & they name her Jolene Riot Munson

And they all lived happily ever after 🥰

nesting🥰🥰🥰

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg

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shiny-jr · 1 year ago

Text

damnation (peek VI?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: I was looking back at previous sneak-peeks and I realized I've been kinda spoiling y'all with these. But, don't ever let it be said that I don't cherish y'all, so here you go. While I'm currently about 2/3 of the way towards completing the result (if I don't have to rewrite it or change scenes or do anything major), the sneak-peek is only about eight or nine pages. Which is still a lot when you consider that the end result will be anywhere from 42 to 45 pages. Let's hope that I continue writing at this steady pace. I will not give a date for when this is fully completed, so please don't ask! It's done when it's done.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a helmet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing?

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you took note of your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone.

“Get– these off…!”

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic god had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented.

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike.

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze through but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rock cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location.

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. When in actuality, the accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating––

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist.

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a regular little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved.

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her shoulders, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––”

However, it seemed as if your torment were far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company.

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Well certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!”

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.”

Embarrassment caused your heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.”

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.”

Thalia? Wasn’t that the name of one of the muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus?

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.”

#yandere #ortho shroud #idia shroud #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #work in progress #damnation twst au

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