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absoluteaudacitywrites · 1 year ago

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Lake Time Loop

A little while ago I had a plan with some other writers to write a fic where Henry gets stuck in a time loop at The Lake and has to hear Alex confess he's in love over and over again, night after night, while he tries to figure out how to get out of the situation. We each wrote a section.

Unfortunately the project fell apart due to one reason or another. The thing is, I'd written my whole section and I really like it! It's very angsty, which is out of the norm for me. So, I thought I'd share it here as a throw-away piece of writing that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

Enjoy! (Oh and tw: heavy alcohol consumption, vomiting described in detail, dark/self-harming thoughts from Henry)

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Henry is losing his mind.

He has to be. He can’t actually be stuck in a time loop. He must be in a little padded room somewhere, imagining all this. Repressing his gay urges has finally sent him spare.

If he is imagining, or even worse, if he’s not, there seems to be no consequences here. In that case, why does he have to keep behaving in a manner befitting the crown?

Maybe, Henry thinks, just maybe, if he gets drunk enough today he won’t have to comprehend the look in Alex’s eyes at the lake. He’ll simply get too sloshed to understand or care. It’s as good a plan as any, stuck as he is.

“Woah,” Alex says, as Henry pours a generous measure of brandy into his tea directly after breakfast. He’d sent a PPO off to a local town to buy him some supplies while everyone was still in bed. Buying brandy at seven in the morning; only in the USA. God bless America. “You okay there?”

“I feel like I’m getting a cold,” Henry lies, taking a large gulp of his beverage. It burns going down in exactly the way he was hoping it would. “This is a common home remedy in England.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him, but Henry holds his gaze until he shrugs. “If you say so.”

Henry surreptitiously keeps up the cups of tea until lunch, switching to the sangria which has been made when the others start drinking with the meal. He has more than a buzz going already and he knows he is on his way to his goal of getting sloppy. He distantly wonders if the loop will re-set without him getting a hangover.

After lunch everyone heads to the lake, a cooler of beers being carried down by Alex and Oscar, and Henry sits on the edge of the short dock with his feet in the water, drinking cold lager with the determination of a man possessed. He doesn’t swim. He can’t really feel his arms and legs very well anymore and he doesn’t want to drown.

A morbid thought tells him that might be an effective end to his means. He drinks some more beer about it.

“Hey baby,” Alex says, swimming up and tugging on Henry’s leg. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Henry manages to slur. “I’m having a great time.”

Alex stares up at him, looking thoughtful and slightly concerned. “Okay,” he says eventually, and swims back to June and Nora. Henry can see them talking quietly, and catches the moment that June flicks a glance at him over her shoulder. He’s obviously worrying them, but he finds it hard to care - both because he’s very drunk and because he’s sure that all of this won’t matter tomorrow.

When the others get tired of swimming they all head back to the house, and Henry, having lost count of the number of drinks he’s had, finds that it is somewhat difficult to walk in a straight line. Almost immediately Alex is under his arm, gripping him around the waist and helping him walk the short distance to the house, where he dumps him in a chair on the porch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, crouching down with his hands on his knees so he’s at Henry’s eye level.

“Nothing,” Henry manages to mumble.

“Henry, you’re completely hammered,” Alex says, and he sounds upset. “I know that’s not you.”

“No you don’t,” Henry slurs. “You don’t know me …. know me as well as you think.”

Alex’s eyes widen and he looks quite hurt, but it’s momentary and his face softens into sympathy. “I’m getting you some water,” he says, heading inside, and Henry wants to scream. Getting drunk wasn’t supposed to make Alex even more affectionate towards him. Why isn’t this working?

Slowly, on legs that won’t quite work, Henry stands. He still has half a bottle of brandy stashed in the room he’s sharing with Alex. If he can get that and down it, he hopes he’ll simply black out, removing any likelihood that Alex will confess.

When Henry walks into the house it’s clear he’s being talked about again. This time Nora, June and Alex are clustered around Oscar. They all look up as he enters, and concern is written across all their faces. Henry draws himself up to his full height and ignores them, staggering across the room and using furniture to keep himself upright, his sights set firmly on his goal.

Halfway across the room a strong hand clamps around his arm. “Son, where are you going?” Oscar asks, his expression deeply concerned. Alex is hovering just behind him.

“‘m gonna lie down,” Henry manages to lie. Oscar gives him a searching look, but then loosens his hold.

“That might be a good idea,” he says. “But we should get some water in you first.”

“Don’t need it,” Henry says, turning towards the bedrooms again. This time Oscar lets him go, and through his haze Henry hears him telling Alex they’ll keep an eye on him during the afternoon. He makes it to the bedroom and quickly finds the brandy, lying down on the bottom bunk and hiding the bottle next to him under the sheets.

Alex comes in the room with a glass of water. “Will you please drink this?” he asks softly, holding out the glass, and Henry’s heart gives a lurch in his chest. Why is he doing this again? He’s obviously hurting Alex, who he has never wanted to hurt even for a moment. He forces himself to sit up and takes the glass, draining the water without looking at Alex and passing it back.

Then, unable to look at the sad expression on Alex’s face, he turns and curls in on himself, hoping Alex will leave.

It hurts a lot when he does. Henry pulls the brandy out and drinks as much as he can in one breath, sick of the day and Alex’s hurt and this whole fucking loop he is stuck in. He pulls the bottle away from his mouth and pants for a moment, his hand slipping on the bottle and sloshing quite a bit of the brown liquid onto his chest, then finishes off the rest in a second pull.

The warmth of the brandy burns in his chest and Henry feels his stomach begin to roil against all the alcohol in his system, but as the spirit takes effect on him his vision begins to narrow to a point and his thoughts swim and then he feels nothing at all.

“Henry? Son, can you hear me? June, get a bowl. He’s breathing, I cleared his mouth out, he’s going to be okay, Alex. Mierda, why would he do this? Has he been under any sort of stress?”

Henry lets out a soft, involuntary groan. His face is sticky, especially around his mouth, and all he can taste is bile.

“Henry?! Henry, can you hear me?” It’s Alex’s voice, sounding strained and panicked. He feels hands on him, and then there’s some shuffling and they’re removed.

“Mijo, I know you’re worried, but you’re not helping. Just leave him for a moment, will you? Nora, can you -”

Henry hears Alex swearing and Nora cajoling and then there’s the sound of a door closing and their voices become more distant. He wants to stop them, to tell Alex to come back, and that he’s sorry and he knows he fucked up, but he can’t move. He tries to open his eyes but all his eyelids do is flutter. He groans again and feels the sensation of vomit surging up his throat.

Someone, Oscar he supposes, holds his head over the edge of the bed as he expunges the contents of his stomach. He vomits so hard it comes out his nose too, and by the time he finishes he’s letting out cracked sobs and his face is wet with sweat and tears. Oscar’s strong hands push him back onto the mattress and he feels a towel being wiped over his face. Slowly, he manages to squint his eyes open, and he finds Alex’s father on his knees next to the bottom bunk, looking at him with concern written across his features.

“Do you know where you are, Henry?” he asks.

“Lake,” Henry manages hoarsely.

“That’s right. What day is it?”

“S-Saturday?”

“Okay,” Oscar says. He watches Henry for a moment, a frown settling on his face. “I’m not going to ask why you purposely tried to drink yourself into a blackout,” he says in a low voice. “But I can tell you I am not impressed.” He sighs, looking Henry over. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my son is in love with you, and as his father I am now invested in making sure he’s not with someone who is going to make these kinds of selfish, self-destructive decisions.”

Henry shuts his eyes. Oscar keeps talking, but he doesn’t hear him. His plan has failed. He got drunk enough. He made himself sick.

But he still had to hear that Alex loves him.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #rwrb fanfic #fanfic #rwrb fic #writing #absoluteaudacitywrites #fanfiction

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assortedvillainvault · 1 year ago

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It's a bit of a random question, but I'm simply curious, how did you start falling in love with the Horned King/what's your origin story with him? Only if you want to share it of course^^ Feel free to also just generally gush or ramble about him!

(also btw I think it's awesome that we share him as an f/o now, I think subconsciously I already knew for a while that I'd fall for him eventually, it was just a matter of time he's just too gorgeous💕)

Ok this ask has given me the warm fuzzies for several weeks so thank you and I guess I should probably answer this now huh -

(also every time someone else pops up who f/o's him I'm Absolutely Delighted and am so glad I helped facilitate your decent into lich simpery)

I'll do IRL and self insert shenanigans, so IRL first:

- the first time I watched the black cauldron I'd be ...about 8 or 9?

- one thing you sincerely must understand about me is that I am, unapologetically, unequivocally, unexpectedly....a weenie.

- much as I adore the spooky and the strange, any film that veers into remotely scary territory, or horror in general, that shit scars me down to the cellular level.

- Power to everyone who can disengage/absorb that stuff healthily because I sure as fuck don't and doubt I ever will. Anyway.

- mum buys me the black cauldron and thinks nothing of it. It's Disney, right?

- anyway yeah uh suffice to say boy golly gee I'd never seen *that* many skeletons animated before. Think my little brother started crying at some point.

- but honestly, something about the films mad dichotomy of attempted cutesy fantasy with grim dark backdrop and off kilter humour enamoured me. And I found myself wanting *more* of the dark parts of the film.

- (still early the full cauldron born scenes were cut. So goddamn salty)

- the Horned King became a lynchpin of fascination, something about his eerie voice, his apathetic yet menacing mannerisms and his degraded appearance really drew me in. Esp his summoning and death scenes.

- I think I started drawing skeletons soon after and they're still the easiest thing for me to draw.

- over decade later when I was depressed as all fuck, I rewatched the film and found myself only really enjoying his scenes, in part because he was the only relatable villain to me at the time. (Eternally tired, quietly dramatic, quick to anger and dismissal. A smorgasbord of things to distract myself from feeling like I was actively decomposing too at the time. Brains are wild.)

- now I like to imagine quietly helping him get to a better place same as I've managed to do :) who needs therapy when you have imaginary lich time.

As for self insert funky times:

- rather than imagining myself in the dark ages, mostly because despite living in the UK my knowledge of that time period is just awful, I imagine a modern setting

- crucially tho the events of the film still happened exactly as shown.

- in this setting my s/I has moved to Wales and accidentally rediscovered the -broken- cauldron, and the remains of the castle. Time itself rusted the old thing and it cracked, letting HK's disheveled soul slip free.

- my S/I is an amateur ecologist, with interest in geology and paleontology and history. (So just me. Straight up me. I can't even pretend here) Once she figures out she's effectively haunted, HK's presence is akin to a field day.

- will she attempt to resurrect him properly? Eh who knows. Maybe. I'm a real fucking sucker for ghosts, esp partial possession or soul bonds.

- magic exists still in this setting, it's just mostly forgotten and thus dismissed. Of course my s/I has latent magic because of course, and I love the idea of HK teaching her as a pseudo bonding activity.

- love just watching HK be bamboozled and overwhelmed by the modern world too. Show this lich a toaster someone-

- very low stakes very chill, just two lonely fools trying to rebuild their 'lives' together. Probably the most weirdly cottage core of my selfships if I'm honest. With more dead things.

So yeah that's pretty much it! Thanks again for the lovely ask, and feel free to tag me in anything lich related 🥰

#thalassa responds #disney villains #the horned king #selfshipping shenanigans #not my first f/o but probably my most consistent!

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mahayanapilgrim · 1 year ago

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"If we are missing nonduality, our every act will lead to disappointment. How far do you go if you are a therapist trying to help an alcoholic or drug addict? If this person has somehow decided to become a drug addict for the next five thousand lifetimes, you, as a bodhisattva, must have the determination to be reborn wherever they are going to be reborn. You might, for instance, aspire to be reborn at the right time and place to be nearby him or her. Say for example, you are a bodhisattva and have been trying to help this drug addict for over two thousand lifetimes. Now, somewhere in an obscure place, their 2,042nd rebirth is going to happen.

Although you need to appear for only half a day, in order to do that you actually have to be reborn there. It is almost a waste of a complete whole life, to be reborn there just to do something that will take only half an hour, or half a day, but as a bodhisattva you must do it. That is what we call the strength and quality of relative compassion.

Now we come to the real quintessence of bodhichitta. Why does a bodhisattva have this degree of compassion? Why don't they give up? What is the real basis of their confidence? The bodhisattva realises that the notion of

"drug addict," "problem," "healing," and "being healed" are all in their own mind. The bodhisattva knows that none of this exists "out there" somewhere, externally and truly.

Based on this wisdom, the bodhisattva can develop compassion.

This understanding can really help. My own experience is like being a firefly in front of the sun. Even so, when I try to help people and things don't work according to plan, I say to myself,

"How can I get frustrated?" In the first place, I myself have set up a certain goal based on my own interpretation. In helping a person, I imagine that he or she should reach a certain level, but this is my own idea. After becoming obsessed with the idea of success, when the person is not there, I might lose hope and confidence in this person.

Sometimes we do realise that it is all our own projection, but most of the time we don't.

Instead, we think: "This is how it should be.

This is real success!" We don't realise that it is all our own interpretation. This is where we go blind. When you are helping, if you know that your so-called "help," "success," and "failure" are all in your own mind, you won't get worn out. Because you realise that it is all your mind's doing, you won't get tired. This is a very general and somewhat course example of ultimate bodhichitta. If you have this understanding, you have a complete picture of bodhichitta.

To reiterate, ultimate bodhichitta is an understanding of emptiness. Only when this is included is there a complete picture of bodhichitta. When we talk about bodhichitta, usually we make reference to something simple, such as a kind, compassionate heart, but that's not all. This is something many people have. It does not necessarily make you a bodhisattva. Of course this is not to deny that there are very kind and compassionate people.

There are people who may even sacrifice their lives for others, but still they may not be bodhisattvas. In fact, they are in danger of acting out their obsession and could end of being victimised by their goal-oriented mind.

Being too obsessed with a goal can produce a lot of side effects, such as thinking, "This is how it should work!" With this approach, a bodhisattva can lose hope and determination when things do not work out; they may even stop being a bodhisattva. Having said this, a bodhisattva should not just do things aimlessly."

#buddha #buddhist #buddhism #dharma #sangha #mahayana #zen #milarepa #tibetan buddhism #thich nhat hanh

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petscatsdogs · 2 years ago

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How to play with a kitten in an apartment?

Maybe you think that for your kitten to be happy it must spend time away from home. This idea, although widespread, is nothing more than a myth. Although it is true that cats are born explorers, it is totally possible to cover, inside your home, your furry friend's desire for adventure and fun. All you have to do is play with it for at least half an hour a day. How to play with a kitten Kittens that grow in closed apartments and receive the necessary care and stimulation have high levels of happiness. In addition, it has been proven that they live for many more years compared to cats that are not fortunate enough to have the environment conducive to their development. If you are preparing to prepare your apartment for your kitten, you must have in mind how to best emulate its natural behaviors, such as hunting, hiking, and climbing. But do not worry, there are many options of toys, especially designed for kittens, that you can make the most of during the quality time you spend with your pet. Cats are athletic, agile and strong creatures; toys help you release energy, stimulate your senses and create bonds of friendship with each other. How to play with a kitten Of course, small cats are like babies and will get bored of their toys after a few weeks of use. Buying new toys every month can be difficult for today's young adult economy, so a good option is to make them yourself with materials that you can find at home. These are some of the household objects that serve as toys for kittens: ping-pong balls, cardboard tubes, socks and balls of yarn. Remember that kittens have a great imagination. A box or plastic bag will keep them busy just like the most expensive toy in the pet store. I recommend avoiding the use of laser beams or appliance cables. Chasing an object that is not capable of catching can be very frustrating for your pet, as he is putting all his hunting skills into practice, only to fail when he gets the prey. As a general rule, never stimulate your kitten with an important object that you cannot lend him. Personally, I like to catnip my kittens. They love it. Catnip is a plant in the mint family, also known in some Latin American countries as a catnip. When it dries, it produces an irresistible odor for cats, which stimulates them thanks to the chemical compounds it releases. I highly recommend the use of this plant, as it is neither harmful nor addictive; On the contrary: fill your pet with the vitality necessary for a long session of games, and at the end, after about 10 or 15 minutes of the effect, you and your kitten will be so tired that they can only think of taking a comforting nap together Read the full article

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fandomsandfeminism · 3 years ago

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@anachrolady

Since my replies seem to be giving me some trouble, let's talk about this article you sent me.

See, while this writer did a great job of repeating the same tired arguments we were all taught in middle school history, he doesn't actually give any evidence for them.

"Undemocratic? Absolutely. That’s the point."

I LOVE when people just...admit this.

For example:

That’s why America is not a democracy. We’re a constitutional republic. The Electoral College is part of that

This is just straight up not true. Even ignoring the little rhetorical game of "not a democracy, a republic" (which is like saying a square isn't a rectangle) the EC is not the reason we are a republic. We're a republic because we elect representatives, rather than taking a general election vote on legislation directly. The EC has nothing to do with that.

The Electoral College has other advantages. It asserts that all the states matter, big and small. States are political entities whose elected officials are by definition closer and more accountable to the people they serve...This means states must at some level compete with one another to improve the lives of their residents

This offers neither evidence nor even REASONING for why the Electoral College would mean that states have to be receptive to their citizens quality of life or freedoms. It's literally a non-sequitur.

The Electoral College also makes sure that presidential candidates don’t spend all their time in the most populated areas of the country.

This one is a popular claim, but is also just straight up ignores reality. YES, the EC means that candidates don't just campaign in the states with the largest populations. Instead it means that they only campaign in SWING STATES. Two thirds of the presidential and vice-presidential post-convention campaign events were conducted in just four states in 2012 (Ohio, Florida, Virginia, and Iowa).

Why this is somehow better, no one has bothered to explain.

ethnically concentrated regions of countries all across the globe have seen brutal violence and outright war because their political interests were ignored by far-away majorities who ruled over them. The electoral college helps mitigate that risk by incentivizing presidential candidates to pay attention to all parts of the country.

Not only is "the EC is the reason we don't have civil war" a WILD CLAIM (we DID have a civil war WHILE WE HAD THE EC) it's also built on the assumption that the EC promotes candidates going to all parts of the country. It doesn't.

If you want the presidency, Democrats, win it fair and square.

And this is what I mean when I say the EC encourages people to treat elections like they are a sporting game, or some kind of Risk style board game.

The idea that the *same style of election* we use for EVERYTHING ELSE - govenors, senators, congressmen, mayors, city council, Railroad commisoner- is somehow CHEATING if we were to apply it to the presidency is absolutely mind boggling.

The EC and its points and it's flat red vs blue maps has made people imagine that states are political monoliths. That either you are a Red state or a Blue state and it's a game to see how much of the map you can control and how many points you can get.

This is how the country actually votes. No state is won by larger than a 70% margin. No county or city is 100%.

California had more Trump votes (6 million) than Texas (5.8 million.) Texas had more Biden votes (5.259 million) than New York (5.244 billion). But yall have let those solid red v blue maps rot your brain, and you haven't checked a single claim that supposedly justifies this ass-backwards system.

Do better.

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know.

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

ALEKSANDER.

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate.

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her.

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.”

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?”

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?”

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.”

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.”

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.”

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.”

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.”

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.”

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.”

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.”

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.”

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you.

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war.

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct. Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.”

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag.

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat.

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly.

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?”

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--”

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.”

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep.

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful.

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?”

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful.

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own.

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.”

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--”

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.”

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?”

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.”

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.”

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers.

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament.

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...”

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?”

“Y/n.”

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her.

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.”

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

Text

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill imagine #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #red pyramid #red pyramid x reader #red pyramid imagine

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

Text

Darkness Hides Our Flaws

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan x reader

Requests: She is a Tidemaker. No one knows they're married just that she's extremely powerful. She feels insecure with the whole Alina thing but she goes along with it cause it's part of the plan. She uses his real last name so people don't suspect them. Anonymous And She's the second in command. They've been together for a couple centuries. Alina does something to make her angry and she attacks her during training. The darkling and her get into a fight because she thinks he loves Alina. She’s sent on a mission cause of what happened with Alina. Her group is attacked and killed and everyone thinks she's dead but she was kidnapped by Fjerda. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi @alice-the-nerd @bshelley322

A/N I wasn’t sure if you meant his name in the Netflix show or his name in the book, so I did both.

You hate her from the moment she arrives. You’re not supposed to. She’s the Saint Aleksander has been waiting for. It’s a good thing she’s here, but you still just hate her. There’s something about the way he watches Alina that makes you cringe. It’s that pent up hatred towards her that makes you snap when he asks you to train her.

“I love you, Aleksander Morozova, but I will not spend any more time with her than needed.” You slip on your blue kefta taking a final look in the mirror before turning towards the man you consider the love of your very long life. His eyes are soft, but you know what hides within him. He’s angry that you’re refusing him.

“I beg your pardon?” He moves toward you with the kind of grace you’ve only ever seen a Shadow Summoner possess. It’s as if he moves with the shadows.

“You heard me. I know she’s part of your plan but I don’t care for her.” You don’t admit the insecurity you feel watching him with her. You’re a Tidemaker and she’s the Sun Summoner. The final piece of his puzzle to control the Fold entirely. Sometimes he looks at Alina as if she truly is a Saint.

“I’m not asking you to care for her. I’m asking you to train her.” You’re really not proud to admit that you’re jealous of her. You’ve been alive for centuries and still, you feel threatened by a whining, little girl. You let him cup your cheek with his hand but it doesn’t change anything for you. Alina will have to train with the others.

“Don’t force my hand. It won’t end well.” He kisses your forehead with such tenderness, you know that you’ve already lost the argument in advance. You’re his second in command, his right hand, and you can’t deny him. Of course, you’re right when you say that it won’t end well. 10 minutes after she arrives in your private training quarters, you’re fighting the urge to drown her just for the sake of it.

“How long has Aleksander-”

“I will not be discussing General Kirigan. If you wish to know, ask him.” You signal for her to come at you again but it’s just too easy. The girl has no idea how to pack a punch, and you feel a little better for every slap and punch you hit her with. You know it’s an awful thing to feel, but you’re not hurting her - it’s nothing compared to what the Fjerdans would do to her.

“Do better,” you say blocking yet another of her attacks. She’s only using half of her strength, but you’re not here to let her hold back. The sooner she learns to fight, the sooner you can go back to avoiding her.

“I think I enjoyed practice with Aleksander more.” She doesn’t understand the impact of what she just said but you see red. He never told he’d been training her. Your hands shake as you manipulate the water from the ewer forcing it down Alina’s throat. She’s drowning in a matter of seconds.

“What did you just say?” Unfortunately, this is how he finds the two of you. Alina choking on the water you’re controlling. His presence makes you lose focus, and she start coughing up the water immediately. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know just how angry he is right now.

“My office. Now.” He helps Alina stand letting her lean on him as they walk out the door. You’re ready to drown yourself rather than face his rage. You just risked the life of his stupid Saint, and you know he’ll berate you for being foolish. But you’re not expecting the level of cruelty when you enter his office. Shadows surrounds you and while they don’t hurt you, you still feel fear kick in.

“It’s not nice to choke on others’ ability, is it?” You keep quiet instead taking a few steps forward. The shadows follow you preventing you from seeing anything.

“She said you’d been training her already. I don’t like feeling like a fool.”

“I trained her abilities, not her fighting skills.” It doesn’t make you feel any better because it still means he’s spent days and nights alone with her without bothering to tell you.

“Let me go.” He doesn’t retract the shadows, but you don’t need to see to feel the water in his body. It’s fun being a Tidemaker when you start thinking about just how much of one’s body consist of water. It’s almost too easy to reach out and grab hold of his lungs. It doesn’t take long before the shadows retreat, and you instantly let go of your hold over his body. You hate fighting with him.

“I’ll need you to lead a team up North. We’ve got a lead on the stag.” It’s an excuse to send you away, and you both know it. But you’re happy to go. At least, you won’t have to watch him fawn over Alina then.

“Fine.” It’s the last word you say to him before leaving. None of you expect Fjerdans to find you and actually manage to kill five Grishas as well as take you prisoner. You can only imagine how distraught he’ll be when he hears everyone is dead. But Fjerdans don’t know Small Science, and you do. It’s almost too easy once you slip out of the entrapment they’ve made for Grisha. You take pleasure in their screams, as they run for their lives. Unfortunately, you’ve never been good at showing mercy.

You’re half dead by the time you make it back to the Little Palace. Fedyor is the first to find you convinced he’s seeing things.

“We thought you were dead!” he exclaims catching you as you collapse. Later, you’ll find out that there was a ceremony to mourn you and the group of Grishas lost, but right now you’re struggling to focus on Fedyor’s face long enough to realise his mouth is moving.

“... to the infirmary.” You zoom in on the sound of his voice still not able to catch all of it. At one point, you lose consciousness and when you wake up, he’s sitting right next to your bed in the infirmary.

“I thought you died.” You’re surprised to see his eyes glistening. He’s never shown this much emotion outside of the privacy of your own quarters.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You try to smile but your muscles refuse to respond. Your body is simply too tired.

“I sent you on that mission. My love, I am truly sorry.” No part of you feels angry with Aleksander. You’re just happy to be back with him.

“It’s not the first time Fjerdans thought they could kill me,” you say earning a tiny smile from him. You don’t even care about Alina anymore. You just need to feel his warmth surround you in every way. He must sense your need somehow, because he crawls into bed with you wrapping his arms around you.

“We have about 20 minutes before the guards return.” You snuggle up even closer closing your eyes.

“I love you, Aleksander Morozova.”

“I love you more.”

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone series #shadow and bone blurb #sab imagine #sab blurb #sab #the darkling #the darkling imagine #the darkling blurb #the darkling x reader #aleksander kirigan #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan blurb

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yostresswritinggirl · 2 years ago

Note

Since we're on the subject of npcs I'd like to give a mention to my favorite oni boy Takuya.

It's been a long time since Itto's character quest but after experiencing Shinobu's hangout, I've been plague by wholesome found family Arataki gang thoughts.

I kept thinking Takuya would basically be in Traveler's place around the squad, being the one trying to be responsible but ends up dragged into shenanigans anyways.

I'd imagine his relationship with Shinobu is a "your the only bitch I trust in this house" type of thing being the only other person holding any braincells (she low-key favors him more than the others sometimes but no one really notices cause my queen is subtle).

I have a soft spot for the Arataki gang in general as you can see.

But of course we can't forget about the sad priest boy Kasala who I keep throwing so much angst at.

Since you said dilf!Kasala here something:

If reader and Kasala had a child together before reader died of eleazar I can imagine how hard it'd be for him to not only process the grief but support their child going through losing a parent as well.

Maybe after Deshret's sacrifice, Kasala just lost all faith in anything anymore so he gives his child to someone trustworthy to take care of as he locks himself away to keep guard of a temple.

Kasala at end of his life, despite dying peacefully can't help but regret everything that happened to his family.

Helplessly seeing the love of his life dying before him.

Not doing enough for the last living remnant of their love for each other.

Letting his child loose both of their parents so soon because of his selfishness.

So as Kasala close his eyes for the last, his final thoughts were a hope for his little to be safe and forgiveness he knows he doesn't deserve.

Okay maybe Haitham isn't the only character I like to see cry at this point

Honorable mentions to Niwa who I can't help but feel like Kabukimono had a small crush on at some point.

I feel like Niwa's good with kids so imagine him and Kuni babysitting the children of tatarasuna together and at night he'll read bed time stories to some of them but Kuni ends up falling asleep to Niwa's voice too because of how comforting it is.

Mostly wholesome from me tonight.

- Vagabond Anon

Admittedly I have not done Itto's quest so I only know Takuya in a surface level but *pulling up pictures of him* Best looking npc in the game engine by far, they really made effort to implement him

But Itto's little found family is my favorite, it's like Mondstadt on a tiny level (adding in the three youkais from Akitsu Kimodameshi too, oh they're growing!) but on the back office it's actually Takuya and Shinobu holding the whole thing together hahaha Takuya being the Traveler, Takuya and Shinobu being tired parents, oh I love all of it

Hey when did I say dilf - YES DILF KASALA, MORE PAIN MORE REPENT

Continuing the curse of unhappiness down the line, how cool would it be if Cyno is part of the bloodline of his past self but their history has been lost thru time or whispered scarcely by his elders so as not to be discriminated in the age of the Akademiya ohhh

What if their child took on the temple duties after he died, or maybe Rukkha took care of them too aww why must we torment this unnamed child we just conjured

Also true, like a small possibility maybe innocently, Niwa supremacy in everything that he does. I want more Niwa content, he died too soon (fuck you Dottore) he's definitely the Tighnari of Tatarasuna in my mind, and Kabukimono is like Collei? Oh wow I'm starting to see parallels - ack I miss him so much, I'm gonna listen to his voice now-

#vagabond anon #exile.goblet #itto #takuya #niwa #kasala #npc fuckers

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coconut-tree-cafe · 4 years ago

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Study Notes: Making pacts with demons! Headcanon

This is so nerdy and long and stupid but here it is my dumb headcanon for what being in pacts with the demon bros would be like plus some other pact headcanons (since i love pacts)

(I know some of these things contradict each other, lol especially since MC has pacts with everyone… just imagine they cancel each other out)

General

Making a pact with a demon means a lot of things, but there are two types of powers in a human/demon pact.

Direct power refers to immediate and physical power over the demon and includes; summoning, power redistribution, and commands

Indirect power refers to gradual and intangible power that influences both the human and demon and includes; mental and physical influence, uniform life influences and telepathy

A powerful bond vs. a weak bond between the human and demon shows in the pact immensely, the two in a pact must be very close for the pact to be up to its full potential.

Those in a powerful pact can read each other's minds, have a general sense of where the other is and what they are doing

The pact mark that is formed on both parties' physical bodies is only visible when the pact is being invoked/used.

A human in a human/demon pact is less susceptible to that demon's powers.

Lucifer

You don’t make a pact with Lucifer, Lucifer makes a pact with you.

Although you have control over him with commands he has far more influence on you than you do him

He is very old and very powerful, a normal human wouldn’t even be able to handle being in a pact with him. Not that they’d ever have the chance to be in one with him

You will find yourself to be more confident, you’ll be more assertive and pragmatic

If you were ever getting messed with at school by lower level demons, you won’t be anymore. Either by the change in your general air or if you were messed with while in a pact with Lucifer those demons' lives are over.

You will now have the energy of people who are described as having an ‘old soul.’

Even if you were in an intimate relationship with Lucifer before forging a pact with him, the way he treats you afterwards is far different.

He will be far more possessive as well as far more lenient with you. He understands you on a deeper level with a pact, and finds it easier to forgive you for any rule breaking.

The biggest benefit of having Lucifer in a pact is having one of the strongest fallen angels known to man in your arsenal, and he will back you up till the end of time.

Mammon

Ironically, you will find a lot of material possessions coming your way and just a general luck with money.

You’ll have more luck gambling, be better at bartering and finding deals (insert Skyrim level up noise)

You may notice you’re craving materials and money however

Mammon wastes no time telling every crow friend of his how much he likes you, and word spreads fast

If you’re ever alone outside you will always have a crow friend nearby to keep you company

They also bring you little goodies, the same way they bring things to Mammon

Mammon is also extraordinarily generous with you, he puts you first in every decision he makes. He makes sure you eat first, you sit down before him, you get the first share of everything.

You will find yourself thinking about him more than often. This is mostly because you are always on his mind and through the pact you share similar thoughts.

To your surprise, you also find yourself endowed in a veil of humility in every action you make. Mammon’s good nature rubs off on you.

Leviathan

Levi’s pact has more of an impact on him than it does on you. He will begin to be more and more like you, however you may be.

He will reflect your emotions of that day, not enough to abandon his own agency but if you’re in a particularly good mood then he will have a little pep in his step as well.

You will find yourself having razor sharp focus, like Levi. Through the power of envy or some other force you will be able to power through things for hours on end just to complete them.

Along with your enhanced concentration on things you work on, you also become more keen to others mannerisms around you. You may find yourself noticing insignificant motions people make more, what you think of them is up to you.

Cue you and Levi gaming for 12 hours straight.

You get more competitive and more materialistic as well.

In terms of physical attributes, you can hold your breath underwater for longer and you need less time awake to function but you also get cold more easily.

Satan

Ever have the need to read a book before? Because you better be prepared for that.

Since your emotions are linked in a way, when he wants to sit down and read so do you. And he does that a lot

You may find yourself learning things a bit faster than usual, if it took you 3 or 4 reads to memorize something now it will take 1 or 2.

You can read faster and comprehend more as well as apply the knowledge you gained to your real life more easily.

Because you are now tethered to Satan, and Satan is tethered to Lucifer’s emotions, you understand Lucifer a little bit better. (Unless you are already in a pact with Lucifer)

Satan is a hard book to read (lol) but when you forge a pact with him you find it much easier to tell what he’s thinking.

As a virtue of being in a pact with Satan you now feel much more passionate about things.

Like Satan himself, passion is at his very core so you definitely feel that.

But, along with that you also are easily annoyed by things that you’d normally be indifferent about.

If you get angry you find it MUCH harder to control yourself physically, you may throw things or bang your fist on a table.

Reach out to Satan to help you control your anger, as he has already learned how. But it will always be an uphill battle for both of you.

Asmodeus

You will now have a greater ability to understand others emotions. Through their eyes, the way they are moving their hands or swaying on their feet you can read them like a book.

You also find it easier to empathize with those emotions.

On top of that you have a greater appreciation for physical beauty, almost everyone you meet is appealing to you in one way or another because you can see their beauty (at least what feels like more than before).

Your natural appeal will increase, you may find yourself surrounded by more people than normal just by virtue of being so approachable and attractive in spirit and body.

Be prepared to be a bit more excitable than before. People will respond to your charisma more and you respond to theirs more.

If you are someone who feels lust then you will for sure be feeling a lot more sexually driven, at least more than usual.

Your skin is also very clear from here on out

Beelzebub

You might expect to be more hungry, but that’s not the case. You feel the same as you did before but when you eat you always feel like you can have more.

You can feel full but that doesn’t stop you from being able to eat more.

For some reason as soon as you forge a pact with Beel he dotes on you A LOT. Expect a lot of physical affection.

You will probably be the only person he would share his food with, except maybe Belphie.

Beel may seem a little dense sometimes but he has the most empathy of any of the brothers.

You in turn will feel the grief and sorrow of the brothers as well as their collective happiness when you enter a pact with Beel.

Beel is like a rock, he’s stable and secure and very steadfast in his emotions. Of course he’s passionate (about food) but he is overall very mentally mature and down to Earth.

This will be reflected in you when you forge a pact with him, you find it easier to maintain a level head even during situations that you ordinarily would be a bit riled up by.

Belphegor

Two words. Vivid dreams.

The same night you enter a pact with Belphegor you will undergo what feels like life-like dreams and not the mention they are long

They are numerous and intense, but if Belphegor likes you he will ensure that they are pleasant and relaxing. You will get a good night's rest every night, Belphie makes sure of it.

Belphegor is like Beel in that he’s calm, he’s a simple guy with simple desires.

However, if Beel is to be described as calm then Belphie is to be described as indifferent, which rubs off on you.

A negative to a pact with Belphie is that things you may have felt passionate about before you feel slightly less so.

You won’t necessarily feel more tired, you just sleep longer and way harder than normal

Making a pact with a human is very serious to Belphie, you have to mean a lot to him so expect a powerful and intense pact

#obey me #om!#obey me!#shall we date?#obey me! shall we date?#mammon #lucifer #belphie #belphegor #beelzebub #beel #levi #leviathan #asmodeus #satan #headcanons #headcanon #imagine #long post

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sparksflamesembersashes · 3 years ago

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Another thing about the Caryl situ.... What if, in fact, Melissa just got fed up with Caryl? What if Carol Peletier is Melissa McBride's "Misery"? Maybe the character she'd created had become the only thing she was judged by, and she just got tired of it. Not to mention, Melissa seems like a kind hearted and gentle soul IRL, and all the abuse, vitriol, and anger on the Twitter hellscape and elsewhere may have taken a psychological toll on her. Maybe the viciousness (mostly from antis, but not all) had been ripping her up inside for years and she just wanted to walk away from it. Maybe to her, Caryl is the monster they created and she just wanted it dead. You can't blame her. It's no wonder she all but left the social media platform years ago. She obviously hasn't cared to engage with fans on that level for a long time, and having read some of the hateful things people say to or about her or her character, I get it. She's only human, after all. And people get SO emotional about their ships! The pressure must have been insurmountable at times. Maybe she had to walk just to preserve her own sanity. We don't know, and we'll probably never know, because Melissa's personal life and her personal decisions are none of our business, and she is an intensely private person. Can you imagine how she feels if, in fact, this was entirely HER decision and HER choice, and we're all making it sound like she got screwed over by the network and her co-star? How absolutely mortifying would that be? I'm just saying what if... I am inclined to think she got shoved aside, but we just don't know. And if we're wrong, we're not helping her in rising up and protesting the cancellation of the spin-off... we're just prolonging her agony. No one wants to let people down, and the pain and sorrow from the fandom could be crushing her.

As for Norman, yes, he is an entitled male celebrity and he's had that status for a long time. But listen, the guy is engaged, he has a toddler with his fiancee (who is also a hot property in her own right), and who among us wouldn't throw almost everything else to the four winds to spend more time with the people we love and cherish the most? One thing the COVID pandemic has left in its aftermath is a new appreciation for the stuff that's most important in the world. Norman had mentioned in an interview that he'd been working almost constantly for 10 years, and when everybody went into lockdown, I think he discovered the meaning of true family time. Not to mention the risk of death can lead you to re-evaluate your life in general. So if he jettisoned everything to spend more time with Diane and his daughter, I can be pissed at him for doing it, but I can't really judge him over it. I don't have that kind of love in my life, but I imagine if I did, I'd do just about anything to hold onto it as long as possible. Are we really gonna gut the man over choosing his real life family over a fictitious one? I want to (you have no idea), but I won't. Because I get it.

So I'm just sad and grieving, and at first I wanted to protest and deny this new reality, and now I'm just accepting it. Because we will never know why it happened and maybe we shouldn't. And we don't truly know if anyone was cheated out of anything (except us Caryl shippers, of course). At the end of the day, Melissa and Norman are individual human beings with their own lives, and expecting them to bend to the will of a segment of their fans (no matter how large) to compromise their own life goals (and maybe their mental health) in order to maintain fictional characters we've invested way too much of our own time in is, IMO, unrealistic, and more than a little selfish. Maybe that's not the reality, but maybe it is. You know the saying, truth is stranger than fiction. We don't know all the truths here, only bits and pieces that we'll still speculate on for months to come.

I am a Caryl shipper. God help me. And if you accuse me of not shipping Carol, or not stanning Melissa, I will fight your ass to my last breath. But enough is enough. The shit I've seen on Twitter gets worse every day, and people behave so badly when they can hide behind a pseudonym on social media. There's no way to know if I'm hurting or helping by participating. Absent further factual enlightenment, I'm taking the path of least resistance and having a seat on the sidelines. The truth always eventually comes out, but I'm not going to feed any more fires until I know what the truth actually is. And that could take a while... if it happens at all.

I have given so much of my heart and my love to Caryl, and it's been more beautiful and rewarding at times than I could have imagined, but now I'm going to focus that love and my heart on real people, in the real world. Maybe that's exactly what Melissa and Norman have chosen to do. We just don't know. Caryl on, but keep it in perspective. Life is shorter than you think. Make it count.

#caryl #I'm finished now I swear just had to get this last bit off my chest

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obeymematches · 4 years ago

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Yo. How about dad Lucifer, dad Satan,dad Diabolo and dad Levi?

anon i love your mind<3 had so much fun writing this, i tried to keep it short & simple but i failed :(

Dad Lucifer, Satan, Diavolo, and Levi (GN MC btw)

Lucifer:

I did something like this for him in this post already, but to highlight some stuff:

Answering kids’ questions about life can be rough, you know? I feel like sometimes he’d answer w/ some complete bs on purpose. (which, according to him encourages critical thinking of the world and it teaches how you shouldn’t trust just anyone. don’t buy.)

I think teenagers don’t like him for several reasons (being bossy, thinking he’s better than anyone, etc.) which leaves him surprised, mostly, but he only really cares if he is the parent.

Regardless of what the kids think he’d still love them though. Like he might complain and all but at the end he loves his kid and if he has to he can go the extra mile for them.

Also I think he doesn’t spend as much time with them as he’d want to so that is one problem to be solved. You know he is very family oriented but he is also busy all the time - this can make kids think he doesn’t care about them at all, or worst, they might think he doesn’t even love them...

I think when both of you are busy / out on a date he’d trust uncle Mammon to do his babysitting duty.

This goes without saying but anyways, I think we can all agree that he’d be a strict parent, like if the poor kid gets a B they are getting punished, unless they have a good reason in their defense. Also they have to help with chores obviously.

Satan:

As much as he’d like to be different than his father, some of his ways he just can’t help. I think he wouldn’t reply with nonsense as often, but sometimes he definitely does it on purpose.

Spends much more time with them thus they have a better bond. They can and will team up against you for example when you need to decide what to have for dinner. But also they always surprise you on your Bday as a team.

I think he’d prepare them for domestic life, as in teaching them how to change a light bulb, how to cook/bake and very simple DIY stuff. (like putting on a shelf) (also how and what to recycle, how not to waste food, etc) Makes them pay close attention to their emotions and helps them gain control.

Though he also wants them to refine their intellectuality so he’d urge them to get higher education. This will probably cause problems if the kid doesn’t want it though, so you might have to step in.

Dad puns / jokes all day.

I feel like he’d be the dad who embarrasses his kids at like. grocery stores (or public in general), mainly because of his sense of fashion.

ah..imagine kids running up to him in a fit after they fell and hurt their knees or something... oh no he has to be so gentle now... (also. very quick to figure out the trick of “if you pretend you didn’t see they’ll just move on”)

Diavolo:

I think he’d make a fun dad despite not knowing so much about parenting. That is why he is insecure and not so sure about it at first, but I think he’d have it in him to be a great dad. (makes mistakes sometimes though)

Every weekend you go somewhere with the family, a zoo, an amusement park, the beach, sledding, maybe just fishing. His kids love him so much and want to do everything with him all the time (and so does him). When they are babies he gets himself this baby carrier and might even take them to work sometimes. No need to feel jealous though, they get to spend time with you too when he is busy on the week days.

I feel like he’d spoil them so much though, something he just can’t help. I mean he doesn’t want to be like his father was to him, obviously. (also like... as they are royals... how are they supposed to not be spoiled...)

I think the main lessons he’d teach them is honesty and learning to balance work and free time. Also as he is probably the first pacifist prince / king in history he’d want his kids to continue on this road, but obviously he can only do so much about that.

As he is strong he’d do so much physical play with them when they are still very young, like playing airplanes, spinning them, etc. On that note, he is the best to keep up with their energy levels, playing tag, etc. Depending on the number of kids he might get tired at some point, but 1-3 kids he can handle perfectly fine.

Oh on that note, in case he has multiple kids he is the best dad at teaching them how to get over their sibling-rivalry. Listen since he is an only child this would be a very foreign concept & it worries him more than anything to see his kids fight each other. Must find a solution to this!!

Leviathan:

Hmm I not sure if he’d really want kids, but if you manage to convince him he’d make a conscious father.

Does his best not to embarrass them but he might fail at that sometimes.

Unlike Diavolo, he’d much rather quiet, stay-in weekends. Sometimes visiting a body of water is fine though (imagine him teaching them how to swim aaa). Or if his kid preforms something at a school event he is there to see and take a video!!!! even if he is the only parent at the event!!!!

Can’t handle rebellious phases at all though. Gets very emotional.

Similar to Satan, he’d team up with his kids to surprise you on special days. Obviously him and his kids have a special bond since they always play video games together. (You included of course!!!!!)

Playing Devil Kart so often and sometimes he lets his kid win, all fun and games until the kid(s) gets better at it than him...

The main lessons he’d teach them is to be passionate, go all in, and not to be afraid to like whatever they do. If he learns his kid loves something he makes them a personalized birthday cake in that theme.

Would continue cosplaying but obviously now he includes his kid(s) as well!! can’t get over how adorable the little overall is which he made for them.

In case you manage to have him leave his room, maybe to go to the playground or on a trek or something, he is a very well prepared parent (that’s why you might have to wait for him before you go), ready to carry the heaviest backpack if needed (do it for the team✊), full of sandwiches and water bottles.

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jilytoberfest · 4 years ago

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JilyFic - 13

Guess the last author of the event in this form!

The forms to guess the author for all the fics will be up till the 30th and the winner will be announced on the 31st!

Prompt: begrudging wedding dates

Going through a break-up is never pleasant.

Being famous when your long-time beau shatters your heart into a million glittering pieces that paint every social media platform, gossip site, and tabloid red with the gory remnants? It is the cost of being in Hollywood.

Having only one or two trusted confidants with whom you feel comfortable enough to show the rough jagged parts of your heartache? It is the unfortunate truth about being in the business of acting.

Finding out your ex-boyfriend, two months later, is now engaged to a fucking model? Finding this out on Twitter no less? It is beyond the worst nightmare one could dream up.

You okay? comes the tentative message from her oldest—and only—friend Mary.

Fucking incredible Lily replies, never having felt further from incredible than she does at the present moment, half debating shucking her phone across the room.

It is a well-practiced rule to not even check social media but Lily’s never been one to follow the rules, and her thumb continues its scrolling through the trending hashtags. Her stomach drops when she sees #TwoForPrew trending. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, famous twin actors and Lily’s close friends from the movie saga she is filming, are just a month away from their double wedding. She has tried not to think much about the wedding since she and Amos Diggory—her plus one—broke up.

Now the prospect of going to the wedding alone sinks her chest with renewed weight. The hits keep on coming.

I have an idea, says Mary in her next text message, followed quickly by But you’re not going to like it.

***

“Can you stay out of the tabloids for a month? A month would—”

“You have reached the voicemail of James Potter—”

“Do not even think about it, Potter,” comes Minerva McGonagall’s waspish reply. “You can find a new manager if that is how you are going to react to my calls.”

James sighs. “I’m sorry, Minnie. I’ve tired of hearing about it.”

“Then imagine how tired I am fielding inquiries from all of your existing and future producers.” Minerva meets his sigh with an exasperated exhale of her own. “We need to do damage control, James. A reputation of volatility and being difficult to work with can—and will—blacklist you from the projects you want to do, if not ruin your career entirely.”

“You know it was nothing to do with me and everything to do with Um—”

“Of course, I understand, James. But not many share the same opinion as you, and we must act according to that.”

James ruffles a hand through his hair. “What are you suggesting, Minerva?”

“To start,” says Minerva, voice still tight with something unspoken, “we give them something else to talk about.”

***

The second time Lily Evans meets James Potter, it is in a private dining room of one of the most frequented restaurants by Hollywood’s actors, The Stix.

Lily dresses the part, a light floral dress, pulled in at the waist with a generous neckline—the type of dress one might wear to a date.

Because that is what this is, at least to anyone who bears witness to it. A date.

“Lily Evans,” he says, standing up from his chair when she is escorted into the room. He is wearing a button-down shirt rolled up to show his forearms, and just as well fitting are the rectangular specs and lopsided smile. A picture of handsome ease. It churns her stomach.

She says nothing until the door closes softly behind her. James’ manager has reserved this room with an extra level of discretion involved. It is a brilliant two-fold approach, Lily understands. First, they will only be interrupted when summoning their server, allowing them to have a private conversation. And second, nothing makes news travel faster through the industry than demanding discretion. Lily would not be surprised to learn that the young brunette who let her in the room a moment before is now blowing up every social account she has to tell the world that James Potter and Lily Evans are on a private date!

Yes, Minerva McGonagall is a genius it seems.

“Potter,” says Lily as she walks the short distance to the table.

“You look stunning as usual,” James tells her, coming around the side of the table to pull the chair out for her.

She eyes it, and him, suspiciously before she sits. “You look like yourself.”

He laughs—the arrogant arse laughs—before walking around to the other side of the table and sitting once again.

“Cheeky. Minnie knows how to pick ‘em.”

Lily stops herself from grinding her teeth. “I’m not the latest car model or an entree you can pick off a menu, Potter.”

“You’re tetchy, today, that’s what you are.” She opens her mouth, little noises coming out as sputters but James ignores that. “As far as I hear it, you need this as much as I do.”

“I don’t need anything. Certainly not from you.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up his menu to study. “Of course you don’t. Why else would you be here?” He looks up, meeting her glare with a thoughtful look of his own; almost pitying and it drives Lily spare. “It’s no mystery that my image has taken a public hit recently—”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“And,” James begins again thickly, “I need something else for people to talk about. To draw their attention away from the rumors to something more positive.”

“Right. I’ve been briefed by my manager. It’s all very well and good and I understand your position. What has not been readily apparent to me is what exactly is in it for me?”

James laughs, infuriating lightness to the noise as he sets down his menu. “Now surely you can’t expect me to believe that drivel? Why else would you be here if you didn’t know exactly what the benefits are to you?”

“Free meal,” says Lily with a shrug.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s right. Meals are hard to come by with you. I suppose that might be true now that Diggory’s hitched his wagon elsewhere. And to get engaged so quickly after? Fuck, that must sting doesn’t it, Evans?”

There is no sympathy to his voice, and that’s what makes it all the worse when she ducks away from him to hide the moisture swimming in her eyes. There is no discrete way to wipe the tears that have poured over her lower eyelids in an act of severe betrayal. But she can’t sit there with tracks of water running through her make-up, so she wipes them away as hastily as she can manage.

“Shit, Evans. I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice draws her eyes back to him, though she knows the tears are still present on her cheeks with more threatening to fall. He looks sincere, has the Adam’s Apple bob to prove it. But he is an actor, same as she is, and Lily knows that means it is possible he is playing it all up to placate her.

“He’ll be there, won’t he? At the Prewett wedding?” Lily forces a nod. “Look, I know we’ve never gotten along much during the years. But who says we can’t give this a real shot? Not dating of course, but mutually benefitting from attending the Prewett wedding together. I’m an excellent buffer if we run into that prick.”

He isn’t wrong about their past—coming through the ranks together as young actors was cutthroat, even if they did not often compete directly against each other for roles. There was something inherent, unspoken between them that garnered animosity half a decade ago when they first met. If—and it feels like a massive if—he can be a buffer, an ally against Amos during the wedding, it would be hard to reconcile giving up that support.

“Okay,” she says finally.

He lights up—it is fleeting, almost imagined—and then his gaze turns neutral. “Excellent. Now let’s enjoy our first date shall we, Evans?”

***

The day is truly remarkable for a wedding, in particular a garden wedding in which the guests can anticipate being outside for the majority of the event. Even so, as Lily stands in the foyer of her home with her stylists putting the finishing touches on the wave of curls that trail down the open back of her dress, she is not at all excited to go to the wedding.

She wants to support her colleagues and friends, of course. And that reason alone is why she has not canceled on James. The tabloids picked up their story almost immediately—for good measure, James had driven her home after their lunch, and images of the two leaving the restaurant together covered every entertainment magazine and headline for two days.

Lily Evans and James Potter Spotted Leaving The Stix

Evans and Potter: Getting cozy?

Has Lily Evans Found Love Again?

‘Bad Boy’ Potter and New Girlfriend Lily Evans: Hollywood’s Hottest New Couple

She should revel in it, and knows James is certainly pleased to see pictures of them covering the newsstands as opposed to previous editions where they plastered pictures of his angry silhouette. But the furthest she would go is admitting they do look rather good together. Anyone with eyes and an interest in men can see that James Potter is attractive; there are worse people to have to look at for an evening—even if his arrogance is unrivaled and his ego rather overinflated.

Lily pushes this all away though. She knows the universe of suffering is primed to give her at least one interaction with Amos this evening. She has spoken to the wedding planners to confirm she will no longer be sitting at the same table as Amos, and after five calls got five confirmations from five different people. Yet she still finds herself on edge that there will be a mishap that puts her sitting next to her ex-boyfriend or his new… thing and Lily is not prepared to endure such a thing, actress or not.

James arrives shortly after her stylist finishes—surprisingly punctual, which she appreciates—and appraises her dress keenly when she joins him in his SUV.

“You look incredible,” he tells her earnestly; she ignores the jolt of pleasure that shoots through her trying to return the compliment casually because he is wearing the hell out of a light gray suit and tie to match her dress.

She fears she often overwears the color green, which in the right shade completely sets off her emerald eyes, but she has committed to the emerald floor-length gown she is wearing tonight. It hangs loosely on her shoulders, reveals most of her back, and dips generously down her chest.

“I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to go to someone else’s wedding looking like that, Evans. The brides will never let you in the door.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “My dress was approved by all required parties, thank you very much.”

“Diggory is going to pop an artery when he sees you,” says James, throwing a look at her quickly before his attention is back on the road. “Hell, I might too when I can have a proper look at you again.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

Her tone is far too pleased for this command, and the arse seems to realize it too with a grin.

A short ten minutes later they arrive at the venue to much fanfare, at least, outside the building. Cameras snap picture after picture as James offers his hand to her and escorts her toward the building.

“Any comments about your relationship?”

“Did this relationship overlap with Amos?”

“Reports are that James is happier on set than ever—Lily, is that thanks to you?”

“Can we have a kiss?”

To Lily’s great surprise, James ignores each comment until the last when he turns with a great flourish, wrapping one arm around her waist—the warmth of his hand pressed into the bare skin of her lower back—and he bends her back slightly for a kiss.

She’s furious. Rather, she wants to be furious, but the kiss pushes all relevant, rational thought from her mind and she throws her arms around his neck, in part to steady herself and in part to sell their act. But then one of them—she won’t remember who—invites the other to deepen the kiss until the other comes to their senses and pulls away.

“Got your shot?” asks James, tone challenging as Lily rights herself; his hand does not leave her back. “Good.”

James leads her on, not bothering to give any further attention to the paparazzi around them.

“What was that?” she asks, voice tight in a whisper with a smile planted on her face.

“It’s called selling the act,” James says back rather indifferently. “And don’t act like you didn’t like it, Evans.” Just as they reach the door to the venue, he leans down to speak directly into her ear. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again, in public or otherwise.”

The words suck the breath right out of her lungs as effectively as if he had put his mouth on hers again. She should not find the idea so appealing, should not feel the flush of red seeping up her cheeks, a wave of heat fluttering elsewhere at the suggestion.

“You wish, Potter,” she bites out, curling her hand over his arm as he continues to escort her through the building.

“I think I just made that fact very plain to you, Evans. But I can spell it out later if you have any doubts.”

“Can you not? We’re supposed to look like a happy couple, not one likely to run off at any moment to shag in a broom closet.”

James laughs at this. “In my experience, that Venn Diagram should be a circle.”

“Keep it in your pants, and maybe if you’re a good boy you can have a pity kiss at the end of the night.”

James doesn’t respond, though Lily enjoys the way his jaw clenches at these words far more than she should.

When James and Lily arrive at the courtyard where the wedding and reception will be held, Lily makes her best effort to avoid scanning the crowd too much. Of course, she and James spend several minutes navigating through, offering pleasantries to people they pass, and a conversation here or there that one has to save the other from before long. Gratefully they reach the outdoor seats without running into Amos and Lily allows herself to relax, leaning toward James who has slung an arm along the back of the white garden chair she is sitting in.

Her luck, however, seems to come with an expiration time, as she sadly finds out when she and James make further rounds during the cocktail hour that follows the ceremony.

They file inside for the cocktails as the venue staff moves speedily to transform the outdoor wedding set-up to a dining area. Lily waits patiently near a high-top bar stool as James runs to fetch them drinks, and it is then that she spots Amos coming right toward her, his model… thing clinging to his arm as they walk.

“Hello, Lily,” he greets, like seeing an old friend instead of a forlorn lover; she ignores every instinct that makes her want to slap him for his callousness.

“Hi,” she says stiffly, a fake smile painted on her face. There should not be any paparazzi in the venue, but one can never be too careful.

“You know Hestia.” He gestures to the girl on his arm who waves a glittering hand in greeting.

“I don’t, actually.”

“She’s that retired model, love,” says James suddenly coming to her side. “Here you are.”

He passes a wine glass to her and she takes a sip as she watches a look of confusion pass over the girl’s face.

“Retired?”

James nods after he sips his beer. “Yeah, retired aren’t you? I haven’t seen your work in at least a year, so I assumed you were no longer in the business.”

Hestia’s back stiffens. “I am not retired.”

James’ mouth makes a perfect oh shape as though this is news to him. Lily could kiss him for it—and given a couple more glasses of wine, she just might later. “Bad luck, then, eh? I’m sure someone will call soon.”

Yes, there is definitely a kiss coming later.

James turns from Hestia to Amos. “Ah, Diggory. How’re you holding up, mate?”

“Sorry?”

“Your publicist has done excellent work of keeping you looking good in the press, but I’m sure you must truly be suffering from that brain injury of yours.”

“Brain injury?”

“Love, didn’t you say—? Surely he fell or something?”

Lily rolls her eyes. “You’ll have to excuse James’ little joke. He thinks you’re a bit mad to have well… you know.”

“A bit? Look at you, Lil. A man would have to be dumb or blind to let you go, and as Diggory still seems capable of sight, it was the next logical choice.” James turns to look at her, running a delicate knuckle under her jawline. “Well, his loss is my gain.” Lily closes her eyes on instinct, waiting for a kiss that does not come; when she opens her eyes again, James is looking at Amos. “Thanks for that, mate. But with all due respect, you’re a pretty big prick coming over here to talk to your ex with your new girl flashing that ring around. I’m going to kindly ask you to fuck off so we can enjoy our evening.”

Lily’s jaw drops, not only at the words but by the pleasant tone and neutral expression that stays locked on James’ face as he says them. He doesn’t even look like he is acting any longer—and a wave of shock alerts her to the fact that he may not be.

James’ gaze falls to her again, not bothering to watch the fury that flashes across Amos’ face as he drags Hestia back through the crowd again.

“Thank you,” she says softly when she is certain no one is close enough to hear them now.

He reaches out to cup her cheek again. “I meant it, Evans. You’re a bloody catch, and he is a prick, and a talentless one at that. I’m glad to help you move on.”

“That sounds like an offer beyond being my fake wedding date,” she says, hands coming up to run along his lapel.

He grins, taking a step closer to her so he can wrap his arms around her. “Might be. Why, you interested?”

“It is tempting,” she nearly whispers; it feels like she is exposing a raw part of herself when she makes this admission, but he gazes at her in a way she can only describe as earnest. “But I have a bit of baggage right now.”

“I happen to be excellent at carrying things,” he replies, nose nearly touching hers.

Then, he is kissing her again, but this time it is not for an audience, not for flashing cameras and bruised reputations. It is for him and her—it is for them, and only them, the world fading around them as they share a delightful real first kiss.

It all becomes real after that. A real kiss, a real date with dinner and dancing, a real night together.

And then, quite unexpectedly, a real and happy future follows.

Guess the author in this form! You can also leave reviews here that I’d pass on to the author!

#jily #jily fic #masqueradechallenge #james potter #lily evans #jilytober 2021 #jilytober

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penny-anna · 4 years ago

Text

a hundred buttons

“It’s this dress,” Yennefer admitted. “It fastens up the back with about a hundred miniature buttons. It’s, not strictly possible for one to remove it on one’s own.”

Jaskier snorted. “Oh? Well, how would usually get it off?”

“Usually I just,” she said, and motioned, trying to convey the general idea of I unfasten them all at once, with magic. “Whoosh.”

His eyes widened as he grasped the problem. “Ahh, I see,” he said. “That does sound very awkward.”

Temporarily bereft of her magic, Yennefer finds herself in a tricky position.

(On Ao3!)

The room was too small for Yennefer’s liking, and she paced it from end to end, keeping her ears pricked up. There could be someone standing right outside the door, waiting for her, and she’d never know. There could be someone lurking outside the window. She lifted a corner of the curtain, peering out at the empty blackness.

She dropped into a crouch, making certain that the knife she kept strapped to her angle was still secure. Standing up, she resumed her pacing. Her corset was beginning to chafe at her, pressing uncomfortably snug around her ribs.

She was itching for this to be over.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Geralt’s bard put his head into the room. “Evening,” he said, though it was well after midnight. “Still up?”

“Evidently,” she said. “Any sign of Geralt?”

He pulled a face. “Not a whisper. I take it you haven’t had any luck with the curse, then?”

“For the last time,” she said, “it is not a curse. A curse I could handle. The lingering effects of a magical void are the farthest thing from a curse.”

“If you say so.”

“In fact one might say it’s the precise opposite of a curse.”

Smacking his lips, he said, “it’s all the same to me.”

He, of course, had felt nothing at all, even when he was standing in the void itself. He hadn’t felt its deadening silence, its stomach-churning emptiness. He hadn’t felt anything vital inside himself go dark.

No, he’d just stood there with his hands on his hips and said, “what’s got into your pair, then?”

She was tired. She hadn’t realised how much she’d come to rely on her magic to give herself little boosts, after a long and difficult day. She said, “I can’t imagine where he’s got to.”

“Well, he’s away in a huff, so probably nowhere in particular,” said Jaskier.

“He isn’t in a huff,” said Yennefer.

“Hmm, I really think he is,” the bard said. “You know, because you so unfairly snapped at him that this entire situation was his fault?”

“It wasn’t unfair.”

“Even though this whole mess is quite patently no-one’s fault,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “and there was really no need for any shouting or throwing things or storming off in huffs.”

“Debatable,” she said. “Did you come down here just to irritate me?”

“Ah, no, I came down because I forgot my pack,” he said. “And, I suppose, to say that I’m going to bed.”

“Alright,” she said. “You do that.”

“Are you staying up?” he said. “Because if so I’d appreciate if you could stop rattling about. This house is very creaky.”

“I shall rattle as much as I like,” she said. “I’m waiting for Geralt.”

He tilted his head to the side, and stepped fully into the room. “Much as it doesn’t behove me to express concern for your wellbeing,” he said. “Given how much of a huff he was in there’s every chance he won’t be back before morning, so I wouldn’t bother.”

There were times – not infrequently – when he’d go out of his way to remind her that he’d known Geralt longer and therefore knew him better. Oh, he’d said airily, Geralt can’t stand sheep’s cheese. Oh, Geralt always gets like this after a hunt. Geralt doesn’t like it when people touch his weapons. Geralt won’t like this. Geralt doesn’t do that. It was difficult to gage if that was what he was trying to do now, without being able to look into his mind, but she didn’t think it was. He seemed to be making a sincere attempt to offer her some advice.

She had to admit, privately, that she felt a little better for having him in the house. Unlikely as it was that they’d be attacked by marauders or wild beasts or monsters in the twelve or so hours before the effects of the void wore off, she was painfully aware that she was limited in her ability to defend herself and that if the worst did happen, the bard’s help might be better than no help at all.

But his being aware of that most uncomfortable facet of the situation – the thought of his having the gall to feel protective of her – made her skin crawl.

“It’s fine,” she said curtly. “I’ll wait up for him.”

“Hm,” he said.

“What?”

“Are you alright? Aside from the obvious, I mean. You seem a little – frazzled.”

She was tired. She was sweaty, and itchy. She wanted badly to complain to someone and since Jaskier was the only person around for miles he’d have to do.

“It’s this dress,” she admitted. “It fastens up the back with about a hundred miniature buttons. It’s, not strictly possible for one to remove it on one’s own.”

He snorted. “Oh? Well, how would usually get it off?”

“Usually I just,” she said, and motioned, trying to convey the general idea of I unfasten them all at once, with magic. “Whoosh.”

His eyes widened as he grasped the problem. “Ahh, I see,” he said. “That does sound very awkward.”

He looked her up and down, pursing his lips. She avoided his gaze.

“Well,” he said at length. “Night, then.” Turning, he left her alone.

Yennefer stood in the middle of the room, listening to his footsteps recede up the stairs. After a moment, they faltered and then began to descend.

Leaning back into the room, he said, “would you like some help?”

“From you?”

“I do have,” he waggled his fingers, “some experience removing ladies’ clothing. And very dextrous hands.”

“I’ll wait,” she said.

“All night?”

“If necessary.”

“Are you sure?” he said. “I promise not to tell anyone. Not even Geralt. I, I really do understand how, hm. Uncomfortable this must be.”

Yennefer heaved a sigh. Her corset creaked faintly beneath her dress. Oh, but she ached to have it off. “Fine,” she said.

“Goodness,” he said, upstairs in the bedroom, peering at her back in the flickery lamplight. “They are small, aren’t they? You can barely see them.”

“Just unfasten it,” she said. She felt a gentle tug at her neckline as he began to ease the first button out of its hole. “It’s a very fashionable and elegant design,” she said stiffly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It is very nice,” he agreed. “I suppose this is the sort of thing one usually has a ladies’ maid for.”

Or a husband, Yennefer thought.

“So this void business,” he said, working his way down her back, carefully teasing out each button. He was being more delicate about it than she’d expected, trying not to damage the embroidery. More delicate than Geralt would probably have managed to be. Well, she supposed, he’d always had a healthy respect for nice clothes. “Did it – hurt?”

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t pleasant. But no.”

“I see,” he said. “Good to know.”

“Worried about Geralt?” she said.

“Naturally.”

“It’s uncomfortable,” she said. “That’s all. It’ll pass.”

“Let’s hope it passes soon.” He was almost all the way down her back. “I imagine it’s worse for you. Isn’t it?”

Geralt was hampered, by the loss of his signs, but by no means was he rendered powerless. He wasn’t stripped bare, the way she was. She wasn’t entirely sure he understood – that he realised that, although they’d both had something taken from them, his loss wasn’t the same as hers.

She said, “I can handle it.”

“Good grief,” he said. “How far down do these go?”

“Most of the way.”

He reached the small of her back and dropped to his knees to keep going. “Ah,” he said, his face perfectly level with her behind. “Quite a view.”

“Bard,” she said, “if you say one word about my backside my first act when this wears off will be to flay your skin from your body.”

“Understood,” he said, reaching, cautiously, for the buttons. “I shall keep my comments to myself. Although, if I might say, they are all complimentary.”

“I am currently mentally cataloguing all the spells I know to flay a man alive.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

He finished unbuttoning her, in silence and – to his credit – clearly taking care to touch her bottom as little as humanly possible. With a sigh of relief, she pulled the dress down her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

She stood in her corset and petticoat, her arms and shoulders bare, gooseflesh rising on her skin in the chilly room. It wasn’t a position she’d usually like to be in when alone with a man she didn’t fully trust.

But then, she supposed she must trust Jaskier; there was no way she’d have agreed to this otherwise. Somehow she hadn’t noticed that she had come to trust him.

“Goodness,” he said, rising to his feet. “Laces too?”

“Corsets usually have them,” she said, putting her hands upon her hips. She was very glad she didn’t have to look him in the eye for this.

“Shall I –”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“It would be worse,” he said as he began, cheerfully, to unlace her. “I once had a tryst with a lady who was wearing – five layers of petticoats. We had to put them all back on in rather a hurry, and then I managed to tie myself to her stays and her husband was coming up the stairs so we were both panicking –"

There was the faintest creak on the landing outside. The bedroom door opened.

They froze, Jaskier’s fingers stilling on her laces. Geralt was standing in the doorway, staring at them. Yennefer stared back.

He walked like a cat, in spite of his considerable bulk. Bereft of her magic, Yennefer hadn’t sensed him approaching at all. The look on his face was utterly inscrutable. She hadn’t the slightest idea what to say and evidently Jaskier didn’t either.

At some length, Geralt said, “what are you… doing?”

“I’m undressing your lover,” said Jaskier. “Why, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Geralt said nothing at all. There was no change to his facial expression. Turning upon his heel, he walked back down the stairs.

Jaskier resumed unlacing her corset. “Do you suppose he understand that was a joke?”

Yennefer said, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

#the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #yennskier

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