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edward-munson · 7 months ago

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trust you | anakin skywalker: episode VI

Summary: You and Anakin have been paired to attend an event on the Jedi Temple, all because Poe Dameron insisted. The Jedi seems unprepared for the outcome of being in the spotlight, and you're faced with his vulnerabilities for the first time. (Ps: This is exactly how I imagine him during a specific scene from this chapter 🥺)

Warnings: vulgar language (as always), panic attack

Word count: 4.8k

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Anakin:

As soon as we landed on Coruscant, we were all warmly welcomed by every person who had been waiting for us to come back from our mission. We were greeted by the engineers, other Jedi and even a few Droids, which celebrated Artoo's return as well.

I tried my best to not cringe at every hug or every handshake someone pulled at me, but I didn't want to look like a dick any more than I already do. So, I just nodded and gave them a smile before heading towards Luke and C-3PO who were waiting for me expectantly.

I rushed to my son, and he quickly pulled himself at me and wrapped his legs around my waist, slightly squeezing me with his small arms. "Hey, bud. It's good to see you".

Luke pulls back and looks at me with a big smile and I see how his big blue eyes sparkle with happiness. "You're back, dad. I wanna know everything. Did you fight the bad man? Did you shoot him? Did they die?".

His bombardment made me laugh as I shook my head from the amused remarks he made. I pull him back for another hug and feel him clinging to my neck, I could feel his energy seeping through my body. It made me feel immediately relieved from being back again.

Luke drops himself from my grip and holds my hand, looking back at the commotion that was still happening in the hangar. People were cheering for (Y/N) and Cal, exchanging hugs as Poe watched with his arms crossed against his chest. He's not really well known around the Temple, but he nods with a grin when people compliment and greet him.

I feel the little boy giving my hand a squeeze, making my eyes dart to him. "Can I go hug Miss (Y/N)? I've heard she was on the mission as well".

My throat suddenly tightened and I tried too hard to swallow. I keep looking at him like it was a hard decision to make. It didn't strike me that he would like to welcome her at all. Not after telling him many times he shouldn't be too close to anyone I didn't trust. And matter-of-factly, the little bastard loves to do the opposite as I say sometimes. My face falters and I give him an apologetic look.

"But dad, everyone is hugging her. I wanna give her a hug too!" His words stung, they felt like a stab on an open wound.

"They're all friends, buddy. We're not her friends, remember?" I crouch down to his level, trying to reason as my hand rests over his shoulder. Luke frowns over my words and Goodness Sake, I swear I can see disappointment.

"That's because you don't want me to be friends with her. I already told you she's nice to me!" He shoots an angry glare at me and diverts from my grip. Seconds later, he's running towards the group of people around the others.

I stand up huffing, shoving my hand over hair pulling the strands feeling on edge. This little shit always goes against my rules and it pisses me off. But I'm never one to punish him, for some reason it doesn't feel right to do that. My mother never did that to me either way.

Behind me, 3PO mumbled something pretty incoherent and it sounded muffled. My eyes roamed through the hangar, they landed on a shadow standing across the area. I couldn't see much from the distance, but I sensed the presence and it felt like I'd seen it before. My stomach tied to a knot and I felt the blood rising to my head. Suddenly I felt a pressure in my chest, my feet wouldn't move.

I tried to sprint to the other side of the hangar, not daring to look away from the person standing on the corner of the wall. I decided to run after them, but by the time I got there, I was met with nothing. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust my sight and making sure it wasn't some kind of illusion, or a trick. I still had this feeling on my body that I knew who it was, but couldn't actually pinpoint it.

My heart was racing and hammering against my ribcage. I felt my blood pressure pick up as though I was having a heart attack. I couldn't just breathe decently, and I had to lean against the wall for support otherwise I'd drop to the floor and embarrass myself.

After a few minutes trying to calm down, my feet dragged me into the small group of people who were just having a conversation after celebrating our return. I watched as Poe was sitting on the floor talking to Luke. I swear to God this boy loves to make acquaintances with every person he sees. I'm not sure it's exactly a good idea to let him get to know other people, but I let him this time, he seemed pretty involved.

I shifted my sight and was met with Cal and (Y/N) laughing over something they were talking about. She glanced at me for a slight second, enough for me to catch her eyes before she returned her gaze to her friend. It felt different, weird to look at her after what happened back there. She didn't seem too frightened like she did before we went out on the mission.

Before we landed, Poe had invited us for a drink later that day. I tried to refuse many times, but he made sure he would convince me to go so I would get rid of my "grumpy face". I really wanted to go back to my place and get some rest, spend time with my son, and get some distraction. I just wasn't the biggest fan of going to the bar and drinking, nor do I like to interact with other people like I did before. It's plain boring to me.

I ended up going to the bar with Dameron, who also invited (Y/N) and Cal, obviously. Not only I didn't have the greatest time of my life, but I also had to deal with him asking (Y/N) to be my plus one at this sort of event the Temple was making.

And here I was, sitting next to her at our table for six. Cal was sitting across from us, his bored expression radiating through the place. He had a friend beside him, who was having a conversation with the nerd next to me. Motherfucking Poe was happily sipping on his glass of water, nodding to his sister.

I kept fidgeting my fingers under the table, not really interested in being at one of these events where they praise people for doing their work. In fact, I consider this such bullshit, given that we are all fighters out there. Kestis would constantly look at me like he wants to choke me to death, and I'm sure he just about planned the entire thing.

"So" Poe's sister spoke up, we all whipped our heads waiting for a response. "When did you and Skywalker start dating?"

The man next to her almost choked on his water, clearing his throat.

"What?" My eyebrows shot up in confusion and I could hear the crack in my voice. "We're not- She's not my-"

"We aren't really-" I heard (Y/N) speak up at the same time, sensing her nervousness.

"These two?" Cal chimed in simultaneously, and I glanced at him, knowing the bitterness in his tone. With a sly smirk on his face, he shook his head in amusement. "They literally hate each other".

The expression plastered over Dameron's face, I recognized he didn't know where exactly my relationship with her stands. His sister was as surprised as he was, while the dumbass sitting in front of me seemed to be having fun.

"Shut up, Cal" (Y/N) seethed through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, he likes to make up things just for his entertainment".

Is he lying, though? I wasn't the biggest fan of hers, and I surely didn't want to be at this fucking event sitting next to her. Especially if I have to face Cal on the other end of the table.

She gave Poe's sister a forced smile, clearing her throat. "We're not together. Your brother paired us for the event, but that's about it".

I shot him daggers, my eyebrows still knitted together. I'm going to have a fucking headache from this conversation. The pilot lifted his hands in surrender as his face flushed red.

"Hey, I didn't know that either. If anything, I thought they were together" He explained, pointing his index finger between (Y/N) and Cal.

It's not like it's debatable, their friendship is somewhat too strong, and they always look at each other as if they're in love. Maybe I'm seeing things the wrong way, but I'm sure Kestis definitely feels passionate about her.

Now, at least I was having some fun. The redhead in front of me blushed, his lips pursed and he huffed. I felt (Y/N) shift beside me and shove her forehead over her hand, running the fingers through her hair.

"No one is dating anybody, Poe" He seemed to be having a hard time coming up with words, I watched as Cal tried to get rid of his hoarse voice while taking a sip of his water.

"Oh, really? You always seem pretty close" I push, receiving a warning glance from him. The curve of my lips pull into a smile and I tilt my head, faking my reaction.

"No. We're just really good friends" Cal clenches his jaw and I can feel his hands turn into fists besides his body under the table.

"Then why are you blushing?" I hear myself egging him, feeling his stare burn into me. Before he could speak up again, his friend cut him off.

"Okay, let's go get something to eat!" She stood up from her chair, grabbing him by his forearm. Kestis was pissed at me by the way his eyebrows were frowning and his hands were still closed.

I wiggle my fingers as I wave at him, watching as both of them disappear through the crowd of people dancing and conversing. I noticed (Y/N) was staring at me in shock, eyes widened and arms crossed over her chest.

"You're such a dick!" She protests before leaving the table, snapping the napkin over her empty plate.

This is just great, things are going exactly how I imagined they would. Like shit, as always.

"Wow, this is like a second-hand embarrassment table" Poe muttered with a nervous chuckle.

"This was your idea!" I angrily point at him with my robotic arm and he swats it away, rolling his eyes.

"Nope, my idea was to try to have some fun. Catch up and spend time together. The 'being a jerk' idea was all yours" He playfully smiles as he taps me on my shoulder. I shrug him off, fuming.

"Fuck off" I get up from my seat and walk over the hall of the Temple. From a distance, I can see the kids playing with the nurse Droids and a few Padawans as well. At least someone is having decent fun in this fucking place.

I wander through the numerous groups of people talking, while they eat their dinner and sip their drinks. They're smiling at each other, laughing and enjoying themselves. This is why I hate this kind of event, forcing myself to get here every time and watch as they all look at me like I'm some kind of superhero. Deep, I know. They only get to see my shell, my outer behavior. No one can see or know what really happens inside my head, what I feel in my body.

They can sense the somewhat darkness seeping through my blood vessels, but I don't let anyone feel more than that. Not the intrusive thoughts, not the grieving or the sorrow, or even the hatred. I had to create a shield to protect myself from having empathy and it comes with the price of seeing people distance themselves from me. I watch as they look at me with fear, they avoid looking at me.

I'm still not convinced my team trusts me completely, but they never showed me otherwise. I've had Cal as my wingman for a couple of years now and we never really had arguments over the time, just now it seemed like I've crossed some lines when I confronted (Y/N). He's not the first person to hate my guts right now, and he sure won't be the last either. Neither will she, for a fact.

I found her leaving the ladies room just in time when she was met with my eyes roaming around the area, looking for her. (Y/N) shifted her gaze when she noticed my glance. From her demeanor, I realized she was trying to get rid of me, shoving herself among the people as she tried to blend in. My feet were quick to follow her, trying not to knock everyone down while I swimmed through the crowd. Jesus, I wouldn't take her for someone who can run that fast without having a regular exercising routine.

My hand grazed her wrists, aiming for her waist instead. The mere touch burned my skin, it was foreign after so long. It was completely odd for me to hold someone - a woman - by the waist. She turned over, trying to shove my hands off of her, not being strong enough for my fingers to slip.

"Let me go, Skywalker. Or I'll scream!" (Y/N) tried to stand at least an arm span from me. Her small hands eagerly held mine as she still struggled to get rid of my hold.

"Hey, calm down now. Let me talk for just a minute" I lowered my chin and showed some empathy before she decided to lose it and make a scene.

"I think you've said enough for today" She didn't move her hands from mine. I could feel (Y/N) was having a difficult time trusting me after the stunt I pulled, her eyes were squinted and her forehead was crinkled with annoyance.

I rolled my eyes, knowing I wasn't in the right for making excuses. I just wanted to have my fun with the guy, I didn't do any harm to him. "Look- I'm... sorry. I was an ass, I recognize that and I didn't mean to make you feel embarrassed".

Her expression dropped a little, but I can see she was going to be sarcastic. She was chuckling, looking at me with taunting in her eyes. "You really had me there, Anakin. For a moment I wasn't sure you had the word "sorry" in your vocabulary".

And then, the next second, (Y/N) went back to the previous angry look, shoving both of my hands from her waist. I rolled my eyes before letting out a groan as I scratched the back of my neck. "Why make this hard and just say you don't want my apology?".

She places one hand over her waist, while pinching her chin with the other. I swear to God, I barely have any patience for this kind of game. "Huh, come to think of it, I might actually just forgive you. The way you're grimacing, it must have been really hard for you to say that word".

I watch her send me a small smile before turning on her back, walking back to our table. I must be a really bad person if people think I can't just apologize when I do something wrong.

Before I even consider taking another step, I hear my name being shot out from the small stage. Here we go again with the show. Master Yoda was sitting down on a stool, holding a microphone in his tiny green hand, waving for me to come over.

Shit.

I forced a smile, feeling everyone's eyes burn into my back as I walked towards him, immediately balling my hands into fists from instinct of self protection. I might as well have social anxiety if that's even a thing. I stood there in front of dozens of people, some were clapping their hands, some were whistling and then there was Cal, who was definitely not even masking the way his eyes were rolling.

There was a speech, which I didn't manage to listen to. I was too busy keeping my eyes on Luke as he looked at me with a sparkle in his eyes, probably proud of his father for being there. Like I'm a motherfucking God. I'm sure this place belonged to Obi-Wan more than anything, although it was obvious he would go against it just like me. Whatever Yoda was yapping about just about sounded muffled to me, and I wish I could just kill myself.

"To the bravest Jedi Master, here is to" He celebrates, extending his little arms to me as he holds a fucking medal. "Proud of you, we all are".

I hear the claps again, the cheering and the warming celebration right above my eyes. But I don't feel it, I don't agree with all the adoration and admiration. My head whips to where Luke stands, he's jumping around and celebrating his own father. My own eyes glint with gratitude for having him next to me. He's my anchor, the angel sent from heaven to help me stay whole.

"I- Uh- Thank you for the support..." I heave as I feel a lump in my throat. "But I don't think I deserve this. I'm not sure it's good enough for me" My voice barely comes out, my hands are trembling as I hold the microphone with one, while the other grips the medal.

There's silence and shuffling around the hall. I'm sure Kestis would stand up and just scream saying I suck. But it never came. In fact, the only sound echoing through the room was from running feet. When I came to realize, my boy was standing right in front of me, holding the hem of my blazer. I look down at him, there's a frown on his face and it hits me. I disappointed my child too.

"But you're the bravest Jedi Master, dad! Everyone says you're the chosen one, you deserve it" He goes through his sentence nodding at every word he says. "You're a good person, daddy. We are proud of you".

I stare at him with my jaw slack and my mind spiraling, going blank as the words freeze in my mouth. The moment I take in everything he just said, my body can't help but keep completely stagnant. Yoda protests again, saying his last words as if he agrees with Luke, but it's hard to focus on my surroundings. I just step out of this torture and get a hold of the boy, pulling him into a hug as he wraps himself around my torso.

Even with my body feeling tense, closing my eyes didn't make a difference at this point. I squinted them shut as much as I could, clinging to Luke as if it was the last thing I had to do. It still wasn't enough for me to shake off the draining feeling, nor was I able to avoid listening to the murmuring as they went back to what they were doing. My hands were still shaking and feeling numb, my eyes shooting up immediately.

I clear my throat, pulling away from him just enough to speak. It came out hoarse and strangled. "I'll be right back, alright? Get back to your friends".

My blurry vision sent a shockwave through my body and I stiffened, every cell shooting an alarming feeling straight to my brain. I shake my head, trying to make sense of what's in front of me but everything seems too distorted. My boots heavily drag me out of there, leading me to a corner where no one would bother or ask questions about me. It becomes too hard to walk, my fingertips graze the wall like it was soap, slipping through it, and I can hear my blood pumping so loud that everything else becomes a haze.

I walk into a small room, which was probably a janitor's room, dropping to my knees as soon as I close the door behind me. My first instinct is to punch the wall, release the nerves stuck on me. I can feel the sweat dripping down my neck and my forehead, my hair sticking to the damp skin. The blazer and tunic are suffocating me and I have to force myself to undress before it gets harder to breathe. I groan when I notice the numbness over my body, my heart rate quickly picking up. I pace around the small room, breaking and throwing anything I see in front of me.

Just let it out, Skywalker. It will go away. It has to.

"You're so... fucking... ridiculous!" I say to myself as I keep walking in circles, kicking and punching. My airways become smaller each breath I take and I start wheezing.

"You're lame, Anakin. Fucking. Lame" My hands fly up to my face and I start smacking myself on the forehead for reassurance.

For a second, I lean against the small shelf in front me. I can feel something shift inside of me, my eyes became extremely dry and it burned. I snapped out of my thoughts when the door - which I could've sworn was locked - opened. (Y/N) stood there, shocked to see me like that.

She doesn't even take the hint, rather than just walks in and locks the door with both of us inside the small room.

"Anakin, what's wrong?" She looks at me, worried and scared. Her hands hesitantly reach out to my arms, but I grab her wrists before they touch me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" My tone was husky from the whisper screaming and from the anger.

She shifted her eyes between mine and my trembling hands gripping her. I could still barely see, my eyelids were twitching and they felt too heavy.

"Your- your eyes" (Y/N) motioned her hands, pulling them back, placing them over her mouth. "You're-"

My knees gave out before I could fucking yell at her again. I groaned so loud that it was deafening this time, my hands pulled my hair from the roots. The hot tears started to prick and I tried to blink them away. "Get out, now!"

I felt her startle next to me, taking a step back, and it was enough for me to get myself distant from her. I didn't need anyone seeing me like this, especially her. With my eyes closed and my fists clenching hard, I sit down and lean against the wall. I rest my elbows against my knees and shove my head back against the wall multiple times.

"Go away! Go away! Go away!" I scream out, my throat burning from the action and my head throbbing from the bashing.

"Anakin! Look at me, now. Please, it's just me" She speaks through a wavering voice. I feel one of her hands resting against my flesh one, the warmth spreading through my skin.

The touch always burned, it didn't feel repelling, it just felt awkward. Strange. It was hard to accept the gesture.

I shook my head for what felt like an entire minute, my mouth mumbling incoherent words and I still leaned against the wall. Her hand hovered over my jawline and I immediately clenched it, my arm instinctively shot upwards to grab her forearm and she yelped from the sudden action. "It's okay, Anakin. No one knows".

Slowly my eyes opened to meet her face standing inches from me, respecting the distance even though her hand was barely touching my face. The gears in my head started working against my will, my nose flared in rage and I immediately wrapped her throat around my metal hand. I stood right up, pushing her against the wall as she choked with the impact. Her hands gripped my arm with mercy, she tried to gasp for air as she tried to speak.

I didn't feel guilty, I didn't feel sympathetic, I didn't feel anything. All I could see right now was red and I could tell my eyes were bloodshot from how angry I was. And then her behavior shifted again by the way she was looking at me, she was panicking. She couldn't look at me just like she was doing seconds ago. I tilt my head and release her, but not fast enough to catch her before she drops to the floor on her knees. I can feel it now. I know that feeling.

The panic attacks almost never came with the deadly feeling of snapping someone's neck. And now I know why I feel the way I just did. The darkness I've been told about too many times before. If you let it in, you can't control it. It's been dormant for years, I know I feel it coming to the surface when I can't control my own emotions. This time, it was finally reaching out to the surface and breaking out of it. I stepped out and walked backwards until my back hit the wall again, watching as she stood on her feet.

"Anakin-"

I swallow the enormous pain in my throat. "You need to go". She struggled to disagree, her head shaking hesitantly. My chest was heaving, everything hurts and I'm still feeling numb as fuck. "Just go!"

It took me that long to finally break down and I did right in front of her. In front of someone I so much despised for failing to do her job and now I'm paying for being exactly who I promised myself I would be. The pain in my stomach was nauseating and I had to slump down against the wall, this time not giving a fuck I looked like a crying baby. I had too much in my head already.

She tried to hold my chin up to face her, and I watched as her hand stayed frozen only a few inches before she decided against it and carefully gripped my skin. (Y/N) stares at my soul intently, eyes roaming through my face as I hold back the urge of grunting.

"It's okay, it's not the time to be tough. I know I'm not your favorite person right now but let me help you" She tries to coax in a soothing voice.

I have the hardest time getting myself to react, as my body is still struggling against the episode I just had. I want to push her away, I want to swat her hand away from me, I hate that I feel too vulnerable to avoid any physical contact. I just can't. "I'm bad. I'm so bad" I rasp.

I can't even speak. I feel my throat burning, my skin burning, my lung burning. Every inch of my body feels like it's on fire. And I can't fight against it this time. She withdraws her hand from my face, sliding it against my robotic hand, closing it tightly. "Hey, you need to fight against it. You're still you".

I shake my head in disbelief and let out a gruff laugh. I haven't been myself in six years. I just work through it so I won't lose it. Everyday is a battle against the darkening feeling just for the sake of Luke's life, because he doesn't deserve that kind of father. He doesn't even deserve this father. "You don't know shit about me".

I expect her to back up and leave, but she stays crouched on my eye level, still gripping my hand. Her lips are pursed in a thin line, and her irises are boring into mine. I recognize that look, she's trying to figure me out, I shut it down and drop my head. "Stop it".

"They were yellow" She said in a whisper, and I shot my head up again. "Your eyes. They were-"

"I know... I've seen it happen before, once" I try to not make a big deal out of it, but there's only so much I can do about that. Because I know I can't avoid it from happening anymore.

"I'm not good. I'm not good for anyone" My confession almost came out as a sob. This time, I couldn't handle the stress and I couldn't even think about what I was going to do after what happened.

She's going to see me as a joke, as a pussy man who gets medals for being the bravest Jedi Master, while behind closed doors, he falls to his knees and cries his sorrows.

I'm not the Jedi I should be.

@jackie-on-the-loose @adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate @himesuedi @cl0esblogg @littlecoffeeadict @readingthingsonhere

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin imagine #star wars fanfic #hayden christensen imagine #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker #usersavana #clonecaptains #userlace

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mellowwillowy · 1 year ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲... 𝐒𝐞𝐭, 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!

Warnings: doxxing, cyberbullying, blackmail, curses

Synopsis: Nasty comments are nothing but daily beverages for your girlfriend, but when it's directed at you? She is not happy about it at all.

She is the model with the body that everyone adores, smooth dark skin that looks so beautiful when enveloped with golden fabric, a pair of blue eyes that never leave your figure, and the long wavy dark brown shade hair that you enjoy combing through with your fingers.

She is the embodiment of the word "Mommy".

Her naturally tall figure + high heels? Mmh.

She is the renowned model, Chloe, your girlfriend.

She also happens to be the one who will be your guard dog, keeping you safe from everything, everyone. She is by means no idol who is swarmed by countless low-life fans who will stab you or her out of jealousy, but she knows just how nasty people can get with their nasty comments.

"Fucking dimwits, they don't even have a sliver of your charm in them but they dare to write these disgusting shits shamelessly? Are they writing a resume of themselves?" Chloe spat as she submitted yet another screenshot of the nasty comments you received from her followers to her lawyer.

"I mean... they aren't wrong... I am nothing if compared to you Chloe..." you frowned to yourself as you sorted out all the photos you took of her, "I am no professional and yet you somehow look so breathtaking in all my amateur shoots, are you perhaps Cleopatra?"

Chloe breathed out a chuckle, or at least she tried. She didn't want to let you see how clenched her jaw was, how her fist clenched and unclenched with the manicured fingernails digging into her palm, fucking shitheads, what should she do to keep these mutts in line?

... aha.

Chloe hurried to your side and pecked your forehead, "Gotta go first babe, work is calling me." You nodded at her words and hugged her, taking in her spicy cologne before pulling away. Her tall figure left in a swift movement and left you alone in the wide living room. Guess she'll only be back for dinner, you shrugged.

You remembered this person's username. They had been nothing but a nasty hater toward you, leaving nasty remarks here and there in all your socials.

Who leaked their whole ass information? Was this not a crime?

"I'd say they deserve it, what comes around goes around," Chloe shrugged her shoulders and moved to sit next to you after peeking the content of your phone through your shoulders, "besides, these people just have to learn it the hard way else they'd never understand."

You read further into the whole drama, reading more and more nasty comments shot toward this person, just how long would they keep their socials online until they finally deactivated it?

"Poor them..."

Chloe snorted, "Poor shithead, should have made them have it worse."

You looked up to her, "Huh?"

Chloe looked up to you and cocked her head, "Hm?" A smile plastered on her face, maroon lip curled up.

Chloe has always been the woman you looked up to, hell you even wish you could be at least half of her. But the same can't be said about her, she loves you just the way you are.

"One moment, the ITs are calling me again," you wondered to yourself, since when did Chloe have to work with the ITs?

#This is just me being hungry for my sweet lesbian baby #Yandere x reader #Yandere OC #LIfE Project #X gn reader #Chloe the Supermodel

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ellebakers · 2 years ago

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☆ She's back

Jill Roberts x reader (platonic)

part one ; part two (part of "desire" serie)

tag list : @callsignwidow @dandylovebot @hopeswifesblog @sthidk @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

Summary : look like your old babysitter is back.

Warnings : mention of ethan + mention of death + blood + mention of past abuse.

you rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time when kirby asked you, for the umpteenth time "are you sure ?"

"yes, I tell you again and again, it was jill, she was the one who picked me up after ethan stabbed me and for several days she gave me blood infusions before taking me to the hospital."

the blonde was pacing in front of your hospital bed. chad, sam and tara didn't dare say anything, after all, someone who wore the ghostface mask had helped them in the theater, and that person said they hadn't killed in a while. mindy on the other hand was jumping for joy, she was throwing out lots of theories about the return of jill roberts.

"it makes sense, everyone knows that to definitely kill ghostface, you have to aim for the head, except that." she paused to tone down her theory. "sidney didn't shoot her in the head." kirby stopped in her tracks and turned to mindy.

"she shot her in the heart. no one can survive that."

mindy pointed her index fingers in the air "michael myers yes." everyone groaned in despair at the brunette's argument.

tara clears her throat "listen, even though it seems unreal that jill is alive. someone gave us a hand there, and that ghostface stopped at you. that person could have killed us all but she didn't."

kirby was silent for a moment, what the young carpenter was pointing to made sense. she ran a hand over her face then leaned on the end of the y/n bed.

"very well. do you remember where was the place where she put you ?"

"it was an apartment."

kirby threw her head back, growling "that's not really helping us y/n."

you were beginning to lose patience. "sorry, but I was slightly in a daze. i only woke up at times when she was giving me something to eat and drink or when she was changing my infusions. i didn't really have time to ask her for her address. "

kirby pinched her lip to keep herself from getting mad at you. it wouldn't have been fair, but learning that jill was still alive brought back bad memories for the blonde.

"okay, here's what we'll do. I'll take you back to the scene of the assault, and you'll try to remember the road she took to bring you home."

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

coming back down that alley hurt you. no matter how much you told herself that ethan was dead, you couldn't think of anything other than that night. you moved forward a little more and froze when you saw the trace of blood on the ground. it had been weeks since the incident happened and yet there was still this red mark on the ground. a reassuring hand rested on your shoulder, you turned your head and saw tara.

"are you ok ?"

you nodded slowly and smiled at her to try to convince her. "yes thanks."

tara was not convinced and she made you understand. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath before telling her what had been eating you up since that night.

"if i hadn't been so dumb, if i hadn't slept with him, we wouldn't be here. i mean, i really thought he wasn't like the others. do you realize what it would have been like if I had died that night. she died after letting a guy she barely knew fuck her."

your best friend stood in front of you, this time, she took both your shoulders. "y/n, no one could have guessed that ethan would do such a thing. you don't have to feel guilty. you gave yourself to a guy who didn't deserve it, you made a mistake but it happens to everyone."

you laughed lightly "not everyone bleeds out after a mistake."

she opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded. "It's true, on this one you screwed up." her comment made you laugh. "but you know what i mean. sam dated a psychopath and i was best friends with one. but we are still here, despite our mistakes, whe have survived and we also know that we will make mistakes again but it does not matter, it is part of life."

you nodded, she was right. "thank you tara."

"anything for you." she said to you with a tender smile.

you looked one last time at the trace of blood then you continued to advance, in search of memories.

—

you had been looking for an hour but nothing came back to you and you were starting to get impatient. your friends were starting to get impatient too, the night was starting to fall as well as the cold.

"you should go back to the hospital."

"come with us." sam told you.

you shook your head gently, smiling kindly at her. "i'm going to stay a little longer and then, i promise i'll be back."

mindy stepped forward. "i stay with you." you opened your mouth to protest but she held up her hand to stop you from speaking. "don't even try to negotiate with me."

you rolled your eyes but accepted, having her by your side reassured you.

kirby walked over to both of you and pointed a finger at you. "if you have any problems, you call me okay ? anyway, i'll drop them off and come back here."

"i promise."

the blonde nodded then she took your friends to the main street where the car was.

mindy turned to you and rubbed her hands together. "so what do we do ? do you remember anything."

you shook your head. "i have no idea."

your friend was scanning the alley with her eyes when she gently grabbed your arm. "what is that ?" you followed her gaze and saw something shiny behind a trash can. mindy approached and grabbed the object. it was a bracelet, a bracelet that you knew very well since it is the gift that you offered to your babysitter in woodsboro. you remember it since you had to save your pocket money plus the money you had on your birthday and christmas to give it to jill.

"it's jill’s." mindy's eyes widened. "what! you're kidding."

"no, I gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday. she was my favorite person in the world at that time and I really wanted to please her."

"oh my god, you know what i just realized ?" you turned to her, waiting impatiently for what she was going to say. "i just realized that you made better gifts when you were little."

she burst out laughing when she saw your reaction, you gave her the middle finger and turned your head so she wouldn't see you laughing.

"no seriously. it proves that she was indeed there. but how did she manage to lose it ?"

you grab her arm. "wait. and if she lost it later. it was visible then why didn't ethan, bailey or even a cop pick it up ?"

she nodded. "ok then, jill finds you, she picks you up and takes you to safety for treatment. then she comes back to the scene of the crime, but why ?"

you remained silent as you brainstormed for an answer. suddenly mindy gasped and squeezed your arm, her eyes widening. "bailey and ethan, they stayed here after we were taken back to sam. maybe she came back to kill ethan and she must have seen them together, maybe they talked about their plans and that she heard them."

you finished her theory. "yes. and that's how she would have known where to go for the last act."

"damn yes. and sam said bailey had the hospitals monitored. maybe he told ethan, that's why she brought you to the hospital on the day of the last act at the theater."

you looked around you. "that means she lives not far from here."

"yeah. but where ? it's looking for a needle in a haystack."

suddenly, mindy's phone started ringing. "chad ? i can not hear you." she lowered her phone a little and turned to you. "listen I'm going to the street, it sizzles." you nodded and she left.

you leaned against a wall and looked up at the scrap metal staircase in front of you, it was the first time you noticed it, how could it be.

you continued to examine the staircase then without really knowing why, guided by your instinct, you looked at a window on the third floor, and you froze. she was there. she was looking at you through the window. jill.

—

you made sure that mindy hadn't returned and you rushed to the apartment. once arrived, the shortness of breath, you knocked on the door. "open the door i know you're there jill. open that fucking door i just wanna talk." as you were about to drum again, the door swung open.

"since when are you so vulgar y/n ?"

you couldn't believe it. jill roberts. the famous killer. your old babysitter. the one you considered your big sister. the one who made your childhood happier was there. she had a few wrinkles around her eyes, and she had dyed her hair blonde, but other than that, she hadn't changed. she smiled at you, not with a sadistic smile no, she had a sincere smile. the only thing you could say was. "you plan to let me in."

she shook her head, laughing softly, then stepped aside to let you in. you scanned the apartment with your eyes, it was the one where she had hidden and rescued you. the sound of a teapot on the fire was heard, when it began to scream she took it out and poured hot water into two cups. you followed her with your eyes. you should be afraid to be alone with her. she was ghostface, she killed her friends and even her mother. but without really knowing why, you felt safe with her. she turned to you with the two cups and motioned for you to sit down.

"chamomile, it helps with the nerves." she says to you passing you a cup.

you were speechless. you opened and closed your mouth like a fish, you were dying to know how she was still alive, but nothing came out, so, as she read your thoughts, she put down her cup that she had just carried to her mouth and then she took a deep breath.

"you want to know how come I'm still alive don't you ?" you nodded and she took a deep breath.

"when sidney shot me, she missed my heart by a few centimeters, yet it stopped for a few minutes. that's why I was declared dead. they took me down to the morgue. when I I woke up nobody was there so i took the opportunity to rummage through the files, i memorized the signature of the person in charge of the morgue, then i took my file and i imitated his signature on the document which confirmed that my body had been cremated. i took the first clothes i found at the hospital, stole a car and drove as far as i could from woodsboro. odd jobs in small villages who didn't know me. when i had enough money i bought false papers, i changed my hair color and identity. now my name is madison cooper .and when all this shit died down, i moved to new york keeping an eye on you of course."

you shook your head to put your thoughts in place. "why did you keep an eye on me ?" she took a sip of her tea before answering you.

"when i did, what i did ten years ago. my original plan was to go away with you way out of woodsboro. being famous i thought I was going to make a lot of money and like that, you and I could have lived together, happily."

"why ?"

she rolled her eyes. "y/n do you really think that i didn't know what was going on at your house ? you think that i wouldn't understand seeing the bruises that your father gave you. and your mother who veiled her face and who preferred to take drugs rather than helping her eight-year-old daughter."

you looked down, the memories flooding back to you.

"why didn't you wave all those years ?"

"It was too risky. but i've been there. who do you think sent you an envelope full of money for your thirteenth birthday. who paid for your hospital bills when you fell from the tree of mindy and chad. who wrote an anonymous letter to denounce what your parents were doing. who also sent a letter to your godmother asking her to take care of you. who put your file first at the university. and who saved you when that asshole stabbed you."

"why did you do all that jill ?"

she frowned, as if the answer was self-evident. "because you were always important to me. i always felt like i had to protect you. and i feel guilty too, because if i hadn't killed all these people, maybe i would have found a job and I could have got you out of this hell."

tears were beginning to well up, you wiped them away with the back of your hand. in a weak voice you asked him. "so it was you who helped my friends at the theater ?"

she nodded. "I followed everything you posted on social media, I also dug into your friends' lives that's when I saw that chad had a roommate named ethan, and he looked familiar so i did some research and i quickly realized that it was richie's brother. so i hacked your phone, by the way y/n, you should never accept photos that a stranger send you."

your jaw dropped. "wait for the penis photo was it you ?"

"yeah, I'm not very proud of it but since you're too smart not to click on the weird instagram links, but clearly not smart enough to open a nude, it was easy to hack your phone. so that night I located your phone and saw that it was right under my apartment, I first saw what you were doing so I didn't come out to give you some… privacy." you turned red with embarrassment which made Jill smile. "but when i heard you were out of air, i stuck my head out the window and saw him stab you. believe me it took a lot of self control not to come down and the stumble. I waited for him to leave and came to get you. when the police left i went downstairs to get medicine and all the necessary medical equipment, that's where i saw ethan with an old man who i saw understood to be his father, i heard them say that 'they were going to watch the hospitals and finish you off if you ever set foot there, then they talked about a theater and the last act."

you took a big sip of your tea and she was right, it calmed your nerves. one last question running through your mind. "how did you know what theater he was talking about ?"

she looked at you with a mischievous smile. "let's say i played with ethan a bit. i called him a few times to freak him out, which worked, and tracked his phone on the day, then pulled out the ghostface costume and i went to have a little fun."

you exhaled a big blow, that was a lot of information. your phone turned on, displaying a text from tara asking if you were okay, then something came to mind. neither kirby nor mindy had tried to contact you. the only thing that could explain it is that they knew exactly where you were, you turned your head towards the front door. jill watched you finish her tea, then she put her cup on the table, she swung some of her hair that had fallen down behind her shoulder and cleared her throat. "they are behind the door."

you looked at her, not sure what to say. "i didn't tell them jill I promise you." she put a reassuring hand on your arm. "i know." then she got up and went to open the door. as you thought mindy and kirby were both behind the door. mindy's eyes were wider than ever, shocked to see jill roberts. kirby held back tears when she saw her former best friend.

"hello kirby, good to see you."

jill pushed herself aside again to let them in. mindy rushed over and hugged you. "damn, you freaked me out. i thought something happened to you. are you okay ?"

you hugged mindy to you. "i'm fine, i assure you."

kirby came forward slowly, jill came back to sit at the table, a silence settled in the apartment. then the fbi agent grabbed her gun and pointed it at jill.

you got up to stop her but mindy held you back. "kirby stop." you asked her crying. "y/n, she killed people, she ruined lives. my life actually."

the roberts girl remained unmoved facing the gun pointed at her, as if she was not afraid of dying almost as if she wanted kirby to pull the trigger.

"do it." she told her.

"no." you cried.

the blonde was trying to hold the gun but she was shaking all over. after a few seconds that seemed like hours, she dropped the gun and began to cry. mindy let you go to make kirby sit down. jill took a deep breath, when you looked at her, tears ran down her cheeks, but it wasn't from fear, more like she was upset to see her friend like that.

"i'm sorry kirby. not for killing this people. but i'm sorry for letting charlie hurt you."

the blonde looked up at jill. "sorry ? but you let him do this anyway. you let him kill olivia, and robby."

"yes. but in your opinion why did I kill him ?"

"because you wanted to be the only fucking survivor."

jill leaned slightly toward kirby. "no. because i wanted to make him pay for killing you. you weren't supposed to get hurt. you were supposed to get away and stay alive."

"and you think I'm going to believe theses bullshit ?"

"believe what you want. you can report me to the police or even kill me. do what you want, you deserve to be happy and we both know that you won't be happy if you know that i am alive."

kirby wiped away her tears, then she turned to you. your face was streaming with tears. the blonde thinks for a few minutes before turning to jill. "i'll let you live because she." she pointed her finger in your direction. "needs you. but i want you to tell her the truth now."

jill broke down. "kirby, I know the truth about what happened-" the fbi agent shook her head looking at you. "i'm not talking about that truth."

you exchanged a look with mindy. then you turned to jill. she met your gaze and more tears began to flow down her face.

she took your hands "well, if I hated my mother so much and if i knew what was going at your house, it's because." she paused and resumed. "your father is also mine."

you decomposed. "what ?!"

"y/n you are my sister."

✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚

#ethan landry #jill roberts #jill roberts x reader #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #scream vi #scream x reader #scream

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inside-lees-mind · 9 months ago

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May I please request headcanons for Jin, Hiei, and Kurama reacting to their female S/O who's normally calm and collected going on a major rampage when her sister gets badly hurt by someone?

Jin, Hiei, and Kurama reacting to S/O’s Rage

Your sister gets hurt so you lose your calm and collected demeanor.

Canon typical violence

Jin the Windmaster

He likes how calm the wind around you is all the time. Not to mention, you also smell nice.

You’re pleasant to be around.

Out of left field, you, him, and your sister were attacked.

Unfortunately, the attacker went for the weak spot in the group, your helpless, non-fighter sister.

She’s thrown to the ground, bleeding badly.

You rush to help her, and once you confirm she’s okay, you turn to the attacker.

“Who are you?” You don’t give him time to speak before a sword is at his throat, he, nor Jin ever even saw you move.

“Speak!” You shout.

The attacker stutters, and you slide the sword just enough against his skin to not kill, but shoot the fear of death through him.

Jin watches stunned as you show no mercy when the attacker dares to lie. He lost an eye to you immediately.

“TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!” You shout, pressing the sword further. “Speak or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

He tells you, and though it was the truth, you slice his head off anyways.

Jin is shocked, but he comforts your frantic self as you rush to your sister’s aid.

You both bring her back to Botan, who works to help heal her.

Overall, he’s not too fazed. But he’s shocked.

Hiei Jaganshi

The attacker stabs your sister.

And though both you and Hiei see red, he lets you handle it. It’s your sister, not his. He won’t act just because he thought of his.

So he watches as you cut down a group of men before pinning down the last one and demanding information.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” You ask, driving the point of the sword against his chest, over his heart.

The man tells you, and you know why they came after you do. More pissed than before, you drive the sword just below the skin.

“Death is too easy.” You mutter, pulling the sword out and cutting off both legs. “If you die, you die. If you can, crawl home.”

He’s never seen that from you, but he’s proud.

Kurama

He’s gonna be the only one who might be even a little upset. They deserved it, but that’s blood on your hands you’ll regret later. He knows you.

So when you lose it when your sister falls suddenly, clearly wounded from a sudden attack, he’s shocked.

You’re so calm and collected. And unlike himself, he never had any reason to believe you were hiding anything darker.

That view of you changed when you beat a man black and blue without asking any questions.

Finally, you took out a dagger and stabbed it into the guy’s chest right after he threatened to hurt you all for this.

Kurama was shocked, but he quickly helped you up, offering you a soft kiss.

You both brought your sister back to a local hospital.

#kurama x reader #yyh kurama #kurama #yu yu hakusho hcs #yu yu hakusho x reader #jin yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho #jin the windmaster x reader #hiei jaganshi x reader #hiei x reader #hiei jaganshi #hiei #yyh hiei #hiei yu yu hakusho

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ganondoodle · 1 year ago

Text

as i was awake in the middle of the night for like 2 hours bc i felt sick i had more somewhat random totk thoughts

one being that i really hate how raurus response to concerned zelda is, after sonia died in that almost funny how little impactful it was way, "im sure you are here for a reason" (actually, i hate how often this sentence is used in general to .. idk i guess its supposed to be inspiritational???)

bc what does that mean actually? him saying that to someone who got there absolutely by accident really just sounds like "i dont care go figure it out yourself bc i dont want to think about anything concerning you or your troubles lol" i guess its meant to sound like OOOOH fate has BROUGHT you here bc you have to furfill a role you dont know yet (spoiler its being a sacrifice girl with no personality) and besides me hating the 'inescapable fate' trope in general (at least the way its usually done in these games, which is not to struggle against it but willingly accept whatever you are told and pretend thats good) its really jsut goddamn boring and is really only an excuse to well .. ignore her and her trouble; shouldnt you, if you were actually such a cool guy like the game wants me to believe so bad, do everything in your power to get zelda back to her own world before shes pulled even further into the war you caused now that her only ""mentor"" that could help her get more use of her pretty much useless sudden powers is gone too?? i know shes basically dead wife sonia replacement (can of worms ugh) but it still grinds my gears whenever i think of that cutscene, bc i cant help but hear it as the lamest excuse in existence to not care about her and just kinda .. see what happens which in this case means leave zelda completely on her her own since both rauru and mineru die as well (honestly shouldnt rauru have thought about like .. any plan to defeat gan besides dying himself, given hes the oh so cool and goodest guy king whos only mistake was not stabbing gan the second he stepped into their kathedral castle thing, like even if you had a plan it can still fail but it seemed like he just kinda went in with a handful of people that didnt seem to know each other at all, never got names or faces -or unique voices for that matter- to fight gan face to face inlcuding the girl that came from a different time and had nothing to do with any of this conflict and couldnt even really control her sudden new powers just seems pretty stupid)

thought 2

how totk really feels like botw but for the people who didnt like shiekah tech, its not a sequel, its botw again, but version of only sonau, its like a pokemon game that had two versions but one has weirdly incoherent story and acts like the other never existed jsut as a whole its like retreading the same points but worse, all shiekah tech that was so integral to the world and had such a long history just vanishing and no one caring about any of it like it never happened, HELL the titans were called divine beasts in english but i guess they werent divine or important enough to keep around LOL champions WHO and isntead a never before seen or even heard of race for that matter showing up and planting their ass in every place the shiekah were before, dare i say it feels weirdly manipulative, like either them or some outside force erasing every fact about the ancient shiekah and replace them with sonau stuff bc they are the hot new shit now

this is a point that just doesnt stop bothering me, how the shiekah tech seemed so carefully designed and integrated into botws world and story, its a difficult to keep balance after all, integrating high tech stuff into a medieval setting, but they made it work! and then totk comes around and throws a bunch modern day tech into it puts some vague greenish stone filter on its exterior and call that even better more ancient tech; why did they even bother to make pottery inspired laser shooting spider legged robots so well integrated when they throw a car and rockets into the next game without a thought and call it a day, what was the fucking point

it feels like someone was dead set on having a set of legos thrown into the game it had no place in, if you want players to build whatever they want make a building game instead!! especially if you are just gonna throw it in with seemingly no consideration how out of place it feels togehter with the fACT THAT YOU ALREADY HAD AND ANCIENT HIGH TECH CIVILIZATION WITH A VERY DISTINCT AESTHETIC THAT WAS ALREADY WELL INTEGRATED INTO THE WORLD YOU ARE PLANNING TO REUSE WITH ALOT OF MYSTERY AND UNKOWN STUFF ABOUT THEM TO EXPLORE FURTHER YOU COULD HAVE USED!! but i guess they just "didnt want to play with you anymore" and that so much so that they went out of their way to erase every trace of it, i dont think the words shiekah tech are ever used in the game, and the purah pad and her towers just drive me more isnane bc they are the same shit but called different and also much worse, liek the purah pad isnt some more developed shiekah stone, no its a glorified camera with a teleport function and thats it

(i know i said this before but i really cant stand how obsessed every single NPC is with sonau shit, you get told to your face every second line of dialog that they are so cool and are so mysterious that it just makes me annoyed of them even more, the game is obsessed with shoving them everywhere and telling you over and over you too should obsess over them, they werent weird like that about the shiekah stuff in botw?? the biggesst talking point in botw was calamity ganon ..... which makes sense and in totk its like ... gan is mentioned what, in a newspaper article??? once???and then not even by name i think???)

aside from that big point which will never let me go, its also just .. its not moving forward anything, it actively walks BACK the progress that was made in botw, call me dumb but i dont really count moving one step up in the social roles of each race as a character development (for the side characters like the champions desc- ahem SAGES) but mainly zelda ... god how dirty she was done, totk pretty explicitely makes her regress any development she made in botw aside from she likes link uwu and some people like her too, but also not enough to notice that that weird zelda being all evil and weird isnt her (INLCUDING THE CHAMP- SAGES WHO YOU ARE SUPPOSEDLY FRIENDS WITH??? you dont have to be a genius to pick up on that my god, were you all given the mc dumbo potion or what)

she gets put back to square one, back into the little itty bitty princessy maiden role forced upon her by her royal parentage, this time rauru edition, back into a white little dress, back into the scared puppy eyed teenager, back into a situation she cant handle, back into losing everyone around her (tho honestly botw made me care more about rhoam than totk did about rauru), back into being forced to do a big sacrifice- but worse actually

in botw she went to FIGHT AND HOLD GANON IN THE CASTLE SO LINK HAD TIME TO RECOVER AND IT WOULDNT DESTROY THE LAND!! and you are telling me in totk rauru takes up her botw role and she bascially killed herself to ... restore the mastersword.

......... she ... she did that only to be a glorified version of the stone pedestal in the forest. and then she gets returned to normal itty bitty girly no problem via magic sparkle beam at the end and

DOESNT

EVEN

REMEMBER.

it really is just botw but worse, you even get yet another ghost king of hyrule to guide you around (rhoam did it better fight me ... we dont talk about the questionable choice to make himself darker skinned when posing as just some guy)

i honestly dont think i was ever truly taken aback by anythign that happened in botw, while in totk, the further i played, the more i had to fight with myself to keep the feeling of unease, disappointment and betrayal down

its such a god damn shame, totk should have stayed a DLC, i will forever mournfully dream of a game that explores more of the ancient shiekah, doesnt erase integral parts of the world, developes characters more instead of making them regress back and make them end up even less developed than at the start of the game, dives into buried secrets and mistakes of dark pages of history without giving into a weirldy nationalist(imperalisitc?) narrative and lets characters have some agency for once

if it werent for the yiga i might have actually considered refunding the game, just to be at peace with myself

anyway, aboslutely incoherent word vomit.

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #old man yells at cloud #i know im repeating myself in alot of points #but some things just wont stop rotating in my head #ngl i felt like nintendy was trying to gaslight me in totk #what noooo the shrine of life was ALWAYS just a barren cave with a puddle of water in it #noooo dumsda (hundson) NEVER had a funny quirk of how he talks #nooooo purah NEVER cared about shiekah tech or that stone she used to have in her lab in hateno #noooooo robelo NEVER cared about the shiekah oven he named cherry #nooooo yuno was never not dumb like a rock and ridiculed by the narrative worse than koga #noooo yuno never had inheretited an ability unique to daruk #nooooooo zelda never had any character besides like white dress waifu #nooooooo the dekutree never actually played a central role #nooooo there never was any shikeah tech #noooooo there never were any champions we were actualyl friends with #why is this series so damn allergic to moving the world or characters forward #you literalyl showed us that zelda companion is doable #you made 5 fram rate killing ghosts that are more useless than useful in any fight but noooo cant do zelda #she gotta be the little maiden uwu #you could have shown us the past without sendign zelda back #you could have revealed the sonau without erasing the shiekah #you had such a good setup from botw #and isntead chose to focus 3 years on being able to glue a stick to a stick in a game that isnt about glue or building

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year ago

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My next brainrot what if there was a aeon representing fear like evryone kn universe dears this aeon so much to point of refusing saying thier name only calling the aeon by nicknames and the only ones who call the aeon of fear like just another aeon are the pepole who walks on path of fear and reader is one of them before they gets on path of fear they were terifited of the aeon to but one day they understands that fear is needed becose withote it humanity wodul be doomed

As for reader personality they are more stoic to terrifying point but when helping pepole with thier fears or phobia they are very gentel and friendly

As for charaters

Selle

Asta

Natasha

@Zardas75 you are literally the sole reason why my blog is even alive at this point. I need more ppl to enter in some requests fr 😭 my motivation dies on me too quickly 😔

Btw, I'm mainly going to just focus on the fact that Reader follows the Path of Fear than the Aeon of Fear in general if that's okay with you.

Path of Fear!Reader With Stelle, Asta, and Natasha!

Stelle

Color yourself surprised: She saw right through your stoic and terrifying point.

How, you might ask? Well, the story's very simple: She was out searching for trash cans, and stumbled upon you with some random stranger she doesn't know, trying to coax them because (to her horror), they were afraid of trash monsters.

Okay, first of all—how dare this stranger! If Stelle wasn't digging in another trash can at the point, she would bonk the living daylights out of them. And you looked cool, so she didn't give into her murder tendencies.

The moment you and she interacted, Stelle was caught a little off at how stoic and terrifying you were trying to be—but come on, she's not afraid of you no matter how hard she tries.

Sorry, but after being stabbed with a giant ice lance thing through her chest, someone glaring holes into her isn't going to scare Stelle off. Besides, she's seen the other side of you while hunting down trash cans. If anything, her...unique quirkiness and traits kind of scare you.

"Stop digging in the trash cans." "I FOUND TREASURE!" "...You are so annoying." "Okay :D"

Safe to say though, you aren't getting rid of Stelle so easily.

Asta

She meets you when several scientists on the Herta's Space Station starts to become very pale, some even running off in the opposite direction they were walking towards. She turns around, and bam—she's also a little terrified to see you.

Even the way you walk was enough for her to drop her precious telescope she carries along with her.

Were you not with the Astral Express Crew, she thought you might have been a new recruit for the Stellaron Hunters or something. You were terrifying!

Yet something about you was very endearing as well. It only amplifies more when Asta catches you taking care of a scientist and their phobia. She almost envies the attention from your soft side.

She tries her best to steel her own nerves as she tries to get to know you better—it's obvious that, despite that stoic and cold facade you have, you were someone of a kind heart and of pure intentions.

"The stars....they're all just a lie, in one world." (did you catch the reference? 👀) "W-well, I assure you, they aren't here! If anything, uhm—they're much more fascinating here at the station!" "Hm. You're about to drop your telescope thing." "R-right! Ah, shoot—uh, sorry!"

Yeah, she's still failing. You're terrifying yet fine as hell.

Natasha

The moment she sees some of her patients pale and a few children cry and running off to hide, she thought some rogue or criminal entered her infirmary.

Turns out, it was just you. You were as terrifying as you were beautiful. If she didn't know better, Natasha would've said she mighy have gotten a heart attack just simply glancing at you.

She tries her best to be polite to you despite her fear of you, and Natasha really adores your soft side when she catches how you help children overcome their fears.

"A-Ah, Y/N! I didn't see you there. How can I helo you?" "I got stabbed in the arm." "Alright, don't worry—I'll be sure to...check up on it."

Whenever you arrive to the infirmary, be it injuries or other reasons, Natasha fumbles on her own words. The question is if it's out of fear or romantic attraction 👀

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I am so sorry that this took longer than needed! I was caught up in a lot of IRL events, and couldn't finish thid earlier than I wanted it to.

Please, feel free to send requests to me! I honestly need them—the sagau genshin series I'm working on is dying due to my lack of motivation :')

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

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quillsandblades · 9 months ago

Text

Don't say, 'I Love You.'

‘Stay with me dammit!—Don’t you—don’t leave me alone, shorty!’ her cry was desperate, swelling over the crash of the waves like a dying man’s groan. ‘Not like the others!’ He could feel the fractures in her words, feel them shoot into his already battered heart. She was his friend, his companion of more than ten years. It was a need. He had to comply.

Soft hands cradle him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. A soothing voice whispers stories of lands beyond his grasp, of light, of green, of color and laughter. The fingers are gentle in his hair, and the embrace is warm. Safe.

The sky was bleeding in Levi Ackerman’s eyes. And the pitter-patter of tears from the dreary clouds felt like a mockery. As if the heavens above would actually care for a useless, discarded thing like him. Pain was a constant sting in his limbs, like a sharp slap to reality. Only right now he felt anything but connected to reality, he was happy to drift off in the welcoming darkness that was repeatedly calling him.

‘I love you so much, my wonderful, brave boy,’ she murmurs as he curls against her, warm and drowsy. ‘Mama loves you so much.’

Cold. He felt exposed, unguarded. Stuck in the gloom that shifted around him.

Sounds.

Murmurs, whispers, stabbing his ears like needles. He couldn’t flinch, even if he wanted to. His body wouldn’t obey his will.

A fragile touch on his arm, his shoulders. Pulling him up and turning him around from where he was lying on . . . what? His senses were empty, unable to register anything properly other than the merciless bite of agony in his muscles and the hands on his body. So careful, so cautious, as if they were dealing with glass.

More voices. Indistinct, rumbling messily in his head. His temples throbbed.

But then he heard it. It shot across his ears like an arrow, clear and sharp, yet soft like a feather, words hiding tremors within them,

‘He’s dead.’

The name danced at the edge of his subconscious, slipping into his mind as easily as if it were his own. Hange.

He wanted to tug at her hair, frown at her as he always did and tell her what an idiot she was in believing he was dead, tell her there was no need to worry. But he couldn’t, his stupid body wouldn’t abide.

‘He got caught in the explosion of a thunder spear at point blank range,’ she was saying in a blank voice. ‘I’ve seen similar accidents during training. But beyond external wounds, internal organs would be ripped to shreds and death would be instant.’

Her hand. Holding the back of his head with utmost care. He was helpless in her arms, always had been when it came to her, but perhaps never in this way before. His remnant sense of surroundings faded out, leaving him once more floating in nothing.

‘I love you, Levi,’ says his mother. She is crying, he doesn’t know how to stop it. It’s the first time he realizes how powerless he is. ‘Never forget that.’

Heavy weight kept sloshing around him. He was drenched. The river roared in his ear, merciless.

Strong arms around him. Anchoring him to a body that navigated against the force of nature. ‘Don’t you dare die on me Levi! You hear!’

She was his commander; it was an order. He had to obey.

She was panting in his ears. He wished he wasn’t such a dead weight.

She was his friend, his companion of more than ten years. It was a need. He had to comply.

He fell. Darkness swallowed him whole.

A hard pumping pressure on his chest pulled him out of the haze. Fingers clasped his nose and something soft pressed against mouth, prompting a sharp burning sting to spread through his face. Warm air blew down his throat and he immediately coughed out. A familiar metallic tang filled his mouth. His eyes wouldn’t open, his head was drifting somewhere and his mind was constantly slipping.

Time was a funny, floaty thing for him. It flew by in a flash sometimes. In other moments he was painfully aware of every trickling second that seemed to lengthen his blinding agony. As if making him feel exactly where he was hurt and how much.

The crackling of a fire teased the peripheral of his perception. Followed by a prickling burn down the length of his face. Feather-light touches on his skin. Fingers were stroking his cheeks. Familiar fingers. Fingers he’d held when they were curled into tight fists and pried them open patiently, fingers he’d entwined with his own when the sun fell asleep, and dusk and silence pervaded the world, fingers he’d slapped away when they playfully ruffled his hair or danced across his shoulder.

Warm breath flew over his face as a hand brushed back his hair. He felt something soft press against his forehead. Warm and lingering. The touch traveled down to his eye, as if wanting to erase the pain rippling through his wounds.

Her lips.

She moved them further down his cheek. Then stopped. Like if she went on, it would break her.

‘I—I love you Levi,’ she whispered.

Stop! He wanted to tell her, Don’t say this.

Because the last person who said that died before his eyes, succumbing to decay in her own bed, in front of her own child. But his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his body felt weighed down. She continued.

‘I love you, never forget that.’

Stop.

I don’t want to lose you.

She bandaged his face and talked about the world and all the bastards in it that were running around, messing it up. She told him about Zeke and wondered about their plans. He struggled to stay there, and not drown in the blackness once more. But then she said it, another thing that made him want to shut her up, not because he was averse to the idea but because their world was cruel, and they were simply pawns at the mercy of the universe.

‘Maybe we should just live here together. Right . . . Levi?’

‘I love you so much, my wonderful, brave boy.’

His mother was lying on the bed, lifeless, cold. A bed on which she’d once held him and told him stories of the world.

But Hange was alive and he didn’t want her to end up the same way, but their duty was weighing on them, heavy and unforgiving and the world was watching expectantly, waiting for them to throw away their lives so the rest of them could live normally and hell, was it selfish of him to ask for one fucking thing—one fucking thing with any semblance to normalcy?

Yeah. It probably was.

He stepped on his desires. And he knew Hange was weak right now, but she needed to do the same, so he’d help her, he’d help her when he had the strength to fully wake up. They couldn’t afford to be selfish like this. It’d be low of them

****

The chirping of birds outside his window pulled him out of his slumber. The midday sun was high in the air, glaring through his window. How had he slept so late? Was old age finally getting to him? He yawned and the scars on his face stretched thin. They were a reminder. Of a person who became very dear to him, despite his resistance, despite his fear. They were a sign of someone who had held him when he was broken and put him back, stitch by stitch.

‘I love you Levi.’

The last person who said that to him—

An arm slid around him, pulling him back against a warm body. He turned in the circle of the arms and gazed at Hange, sleeping calmly. Her messy hair was splayed over the pillow and a few strands dangled over her nose. Her eyepatch and glasses lay discarded on the nightstand. He brushed back her hair and leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead.

—was right next to him, warm and alive.

‘Oi, wake up,’ he grumbled. ‘The sun’s up.’

He prodded her and she mumbled indistinctly, trying to brush him off, ‘. . . mmuurrgh . . . don’t wanna . . .’

‘Don’t you have to check up on those plants you were messing around with a few days ago?’

Hearing that, her eyes flew open immediately and she sprang up. It was almost comical.

‘Of course!’ she shouted, grabbed her glasses and jumped out of the bed. She ran out of the house with too much energy. Levi shook his head and got up, making the bed before heading into the kitchen. He should make breakfast.

And so, deep within the forest they lived, done with their duties and, by some miracle, surviving all of that hell. It was peaceful, for once in his life he was happy without a threat of fear.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #my writing #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #levihan fanfiction #ao3 #love #THIS IS CANON YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND

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darkhymns-fic · 10 months ago

Text

Poor Reception

Husk is forcefully brought to the radio tower, where he finds Alastor injured after the battle. He's weak. He's vulnerable.

What better opportunity to finally be free of the Radio Demon's chains than right now?

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor/Husk Rating: M Word Count: 4531 Mirror: AO3 Notes: I wrote more for this ship? I'm unwell for them. Once again, a note that this fic contains depictions of unhealthy relationship dynamics, past abuse, and violence. More tags are on the AO3 mirror.

The thing was, Husk was still bleeding when Alastor called for him. So, he didn’t appreciate the urgency.

The cuts over his arms and his right cheek stung, not to mention both of his wings were aching badly. One of the angels from the battle had grabbed at them, seeming particularly pissed off that he even had wings in the first place. (Not like it was his choice to begin with). It had at least been satisfying blowing its face with his newly upgraded dice, even if a few of his feathers had been ripped up, and his clothes were now splattered with the gold that flowed from the angel’s severed neck.

Well, not like anyone got out of a fight that was worth fighting for unscathed.

The hotel still needed to be rebuilt, for it was nothing but rubble. Support beams stuck out of the ground, and all those fancy chandeliers from the lobby had shattered all over, glass shards mixing with stone and wood. Husk was careful, even if his wings were basically out of commission now. He picked up broken furniture and the remains of his bar, watching as the alcohol had already seeped into the dirt. In a more desperate time in his life, he might have tried saving some of his booze as best he could, but it was easy to shrug it off now, to shoot a smirk at Angel Dust when the guy made dirty jokes as they worked, and to even give Charlie a reassuring smile as she helped him out. He dared to think it was all going to be okay.

Husk didn’t notice the shadows gathering when he turned a corner, too focused on the cleanup.

He didn’t notice how they formed under his feet like a dark whirlpool, and only the sense of dread that ran along his fur even gave him a hint to what was happening. Too slow, for the long tendrils he recognized had reached up, curling around his legs, grabbing at his wrists—all to pull him straight down.

The last thing he saw was Niffty, the little demon still carrying around her golden bloodied knife like a trophy, stabbing at skittering bugs she kept unearthing. She turned, hearing him choke, her giant eye reflecting the blackness that was their boss’ shadow magic.

“Niff!” was all he could get out. A hand, taloned and strong, clamped over his mouth, muffling his screams.

Niffty simply blinked. He saw his own terrified face in her gaze. Then, she smiled, jumping up and down maniacally. “Ooo, I want a turn too! Let me go next!”

Suddenly, he was struck blind.

These were one of those times he thought he was going through a second death. The complete darkness. The silence. The immovability. His arms and legs stayed locked in place, but he could feel the pain of his wounds that hadn’t fully healed, all while a hand kept his mouth shut like an iron muzzle. It was hard to tell if his eyes were open or closed, for there was only the dark, pulling him through hidden places that he might never return from.

It was endless. It was impossible to deal with. Husk had no other choice to even do anything else. The shadows wouldn’t let him go, wouldn’t even let him scream, no matter how much his teeth felt like they were going to crack from the strain.

This was it. He was truly dead, and it was far worse than anything else Hell had to offer.

And then he was spat out of the ground like garbage.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Husk coughed and gagged, grabbing at his side as fresh wounds reopened. Somehow, swearing in the name of the Lord still hadn’t set him on fire, like he’d expected to the first time he did so. He was too nauseous to keep in mind the list of acceptable curses, already vomiting up some of the pancakes the king of Hell had made them all just a bit earlier. All his earlier cuts went back to stinging like a bitch again.

To the right, he saw a cackling shadow on the far wall, its antlers taking crooked shapes like the branches of a rotten tree.

“You gotta be joking me… I told you I hate going through that shit!” Husk wiped his chin with the back of his hand, grumbling all the while. It took all his effort just to slowly pull himself to a sitting position, balancing his shivering body on his knees. “If you want me somewhere, just use the phone! Or send a goddamn telegram or whatever. Not this nightmare express!”

The shadow of Alastor continued to laugh silently, its smile stretching and making gaps in its mockery of a face. It even gave Husk a little wave before going back to laughter, bending its back in painful contortions.

Husk grimaced, hating what he now knew: that Alastor was indeed still alive. Fantastic. Couldn’t have even stayed in bliss for one day that maybe, somehow, he might finally be free. He was such an idiot.

His eyes were still getting adjusted after being engulfed in shadow for who knows how long. It was only then he realized the lighting wasn’t normal—at least as normal as it got in Hell. Blaring red light coated the entire floor and walls, but it flickered, occasionally making his boss’ shadow disappear and reappear like a magic act. Husk directed his gaze to the ceiling, finding several broken fluorescent lights, the ‘On Air’ neon sign having two letters working at most.

Husk felt the cold metal beneath his feet, finally noticed the shattered windows around him, and the cramped space. Yeah, he’d been here plenty of times. The same radio tower his boss would materialize wherever he fucking felt like it. But along with the hotel, it had also collapsed. The tilt of the floor was already giving him a headache.

The shadow moved suddenly, stretching bigger and bigger until it reached the length of the floor. Husk scrambled away from letting it touch him a second time. “Ugh, what do you want now?”

He kept his eyes on the shadow, but it didn’t reach for him this time. Instead, it slid towards the front of the broken radio tower, where the console had been broken in half, the dials and buttons having fallen off.

He only then noticed Alastor’s body leaning against its side, legs stretched out on the floor. His own shadow finally melded with him.

Husk froze. He didn’t know what to do or think. He worried if taking another breath would break the image right in front of him.

There was blood pooling around Alastor, staining the floor.

The lights kept flickering, reflecting off steel-toed shoes, the frayed jacket that still hung around the Radio Demon’s shoulders, and the broken mic cane where each half was clutched in a separate hand.

Husk waited a long beat before he finally decided to try standing.

Easier said than done. His body still hurt from where the shadows had grabbed him, including his jaw and teeth. But he tried to get himself to one foot, watching the blood from his cuts drip down his arm, reaching his knuckles.

Eventually, he stood. His own shadow from the red light stretched out to Alastor, falling over both his boss’ face and torso. Even in the dimness, he could see the long gash across the chest, ruining the button-down he always wore. But that same chest also rose and fell, slightly. The red light around them pulsed like a struggling heartbeat.

“You’re a complete fucking mess,” Husk muttered.

The room was quiet except for the constant electric buzzing, but Alastor didn’t respond. Maybe he was truly knocked out, otherwise Husk would have felt his neck tighten, brought back down to the floor as another threat to his soul loomed over him. But there was nothing, just Alastor sitting there, broken.

And healing, Husk realized. He was healing very, very slowly.

It was a mistake, but he took a few steps forward, avoiding contact with the broken glass. No other nightmare shadows played around in his vision, nothing but his own, which slowly engulfed Alastor until all that red darkened. He saw the demon’s eyes were closed, his head lowered to his chest, still clutching so tightly to the broken mic.

What was he even doing right now? Why did his throat dry up and his hands shake so? Especially if his boss was barely breathing—

Alastor raised his head. The sound of sparks was faint, but there. Eyes lit up in their familiar electric crimson.

“Husker…” He said the name as if dragging teeth across flesh. “Such a… s-surprise to see you…!”

A stutter. Husk wasn’t sure if he had ever heard Alastor stumble over a word in his life (or death). What radio host worth his salt would make such a rookie mistake as to stutter?

Alastor’s grin was tight, resembling more of a grimace. Maybe he realized, too.

Husk let his eyes examine Alastor again, from the fresh blood still blooming over his chest, to the jagged ends of his broken mic. The head of it crackled, picking up only noise and static. No hint of distant voices or music—no hint of those usual screams Husk would sometimes catch through the walls as he slept.

“Adam got ya, huh?” He took another step, even if the feeling of terror didn’t exactly pass. But he never claimed to be a smart man.

There was a sharp glint in Alastor’s eyes—a furious spark of electricity. It passed instantly, Alastor keeping up his smile despite his radio act going off the rails.

“Now, don’t… don’t be spreading some false rumors. I just… appear to be having some technical difficulties… Please stand by, I need… Please stand by…”

The tone in Alastor’s voice was unnerving. His boss was usually on top of his game, but this was something else. In all their time together in Hell, he had never seen his boss so beaten in both body and pride.

Husk clenched his hands, claws furling and unfurling rhythmically. “So, did you bring me here to help you out? Keep you company?” He held out his hands in abject confusion, because it wasn’t like he was good at either of those things. “What’s the deal?”

He expected some inane nonsense from Alastor, even if the situation wasn’t the usual. But the other was still holding tight to the broken mic, still smiling as if it was the last thing he could do to keep up the routine.

But there was a flicker along his expression, an interruption over the airwaves. “Bring you… Is that right?” He shook his head minimally, still laying most of his weight on the radio console.

Husk felt his fur rise on their hackles. “Is this another stupid fucking bit of yours? I didn’t come looking for you. You’re the one who summoned me here with your shadow shit just now!”

Alastor chuckled, but there was a curious twitch in his right eye. It made the static rise higher, sputtering in pieces. “Husker, you and…your poor attempt at humor. I didn’t…ask for you…”

His head started to throb. He could still barely forget the claustrophobic feeling of being dragged into darkness, hardly able to breathe or even know if he fully existed anymore. It hadn’t been the first time Alastor had done it to him either, but now after he did it again, he didn’t even remember?

Was tormenting Husk just fucking instinct to him?

Alastor was now muttering, which was a whole new realm of lunacy Husk didn’t want to understand. “Just experiencing—” Loud static that could wriggle its way into eardrums. “Experiencing technical difficulties. Please—” More static, like an ocean wave that was steadily growing bigger with each passing moment. “Please stand by…”

The mic kept glowing then dimming, bright and then dark. It reminded Husk of some sort of lighthouse, one that only illuminated red, making it that much harder to see and find the rocks just below.

He didn’t see his boss’ strange shadows anymore. But it must have slept within him, using the very last of his strength to keep Alastor intact. But then why was he even brought here? Just to sit and watch?

Alastor was still deeply wounded. The guy could barely even look at him, his words coated in awful static, as if the dial was stuck on an AM station. Husk lowered his ears, hating every second.

He didn’t have to keep listening to this.

Husk reached into his pants pocket, wondering if he’d be lucky enough. He felt the familiar edge of the card and pulled it out. One from his old deck that he had been allowed to keep, despite it all. Except now, it was coated in the same silver lining that the angel’s weapons had, courtesy of Carmilla Carmine.

He’d already used the rest on the angels, their numbers so great, it ate through his entire deck except for one. The constant blinking of the red light revealed it to be the Joker card. He didn’t want to think too hard on that meaning.

But, he could kill Alastor right now. It would be so easy.

He took another few steps, quietly, and he’d have to thank the stupid form his body took in Hell for that. His feet barely made a sound over the metal floors, and soon he was standing over Alastor, the shadow of his wings covering both his boss and the radio console.

Alastor’s breathing was hollow, blending with the static. The shaking in Husk’s limbs finally seemed to subside, seeing none of the magic coming to Alastor’s fingertips. No sight of roving shadows or poisonous green. Even the antlers on his head remained small and unassuming.

Just aim the card at his neck. Then it’ll be over.

Husk didn’t understand his own hesitance, barely giving any second thoughts to the angels from before. He’d ruptured several torsos and blown up some heads. Alastor was just another body to get through—and the wound he suffered from Adam showed he wasn’t invincible. He could die, just as much as the rest of them.

He had to hurry it up.

But maybe Husk was breathing too loudly, or his feet did make a sound, probably finding a weakness in the metal to make it creak. Because Alastor picked up his head again, aiming his bright red eyes at Husk. The static increased, loudly. Desperately.

The light roved from Husk’s face to his hand. Blood was leaking through his boss’ smile, staining his shirt even more.

“Well, now…” he started to say, the dial turning to find a stable wave. But the static never left. “Just… what… are you even trying to do?”

Husk said nothing. He stared down at the man who had spoken of ripping apart his soul like it was nothing at all. He gripped the card more firmly between his fingers.

“You… do you think…” And then Alastor lost a bit more composure, a cough leaving his damaged throat. The static jumped, the electric shock of it making Husk wince. “That you have the actual gall to—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He’d had enough. Husk took another step, feeling the sharpness of the card against his skin. “I’m cutting out of our deal, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t know what reaction to expect from Alastor—the man had several screws loose, ready to turn from charming to outright psychotic at the drop of a hat—but even Husk was surprised at the sudden laughter that tumbled from his mouth. It wasn’t any of his favorite audience tracks he loved playing, such as after he’d taken care of another Overlord, the screams and applause overlayed. It was his own, and it would then garble and crescendo in unsettling waves, even as his eyes fixated on the card Husk was holding.

“Such big words…” Another cough, the blood now dripping down his chin. “From a drunken has-been who had to come to me—”

Husk had always been a gambling man, and much of his gambles had always bit him right in the ass, his current situation very much a point to that. But after everything he’d gone through, after all the bloodshed and the humiliation of that leash around his neck all hours of the day, Husk took the gamble and stepped past the invisible line that was Alastor’s boundaries.

Not like the man had ever respected his own.

His free hand grabbed at a thin neck, his knee placed against the still bleeding chest, knowing it would hurt Alastor. Hoping it would. And from the flickering of Alastor’s eyes, along with the constant static, it really must have stung. Badly.

No shadows reached out to grab him. No chains. Alastor was too weak. Whatever shadow magic he’d used from before had been the very last of his strength.

“I’m not that drunk to not be able to saw your neck off with this.” Husk held the card high, its edge serrated, made to cut through flesh easily—one of the few things he was able to retain since his own Overlord days. “I can make it a quick, clean cut or slow enough for you to feel every muscle snapping. Your fucking choice.”

But even with the threat of a second death once again, still healing from his other wounds, Alastor kept his grin. It widened, the blood flowing more freely.

Something about it was more deranged than before.

Husk tried not to let the age-old terror seep in, the kind of terror he had never been able to drink away. Alastor couldn’t do anything to him. It was different now. He had the upper hand. His fingers pressed against the other’s neck, feeling the man swallow.

“Well?!” Husk barked, leaning forward, putting all his weight on his knee, hoping it would crack more bones, burst more vessels. “What do you have to say?!”

Alastor opened his mouth. The blood kept flowing from an abyss that was endless. An abyss that swallowed all sound and was constricting.

“Husker…” Alastor lingered over the little pet name he had given Husk all those years ago. He held it between his teeth, slid his tongue over the letters like they were irresistible. “Are you having stage fright?”

The claws, still clutching that throat, twitched. The bastard. Even on the verge of death, he still had to find a way to mess with him.

Maybe it was to prove it to himself, but he let his claws pierce through the flesh just so, watching as Alastor’s eyes fizzled and sputtered. Anything to make it hurt more. “You losing your memory? I was more on the stage then you ever were.”

Alastor’s shoulders hunched up. He leaned forward, pressing into that knee despite what must have been unbearable pain. But no, this guy had always liked pain, didn’t he?

“You always make excuses.” No shadows came out of him, but it didn’t stop Alastor’s face from transforming into an abomination, one barely seen in the dark. “Don’t keep your audience waiting…!”

The blood from Alastor’s mouth fell on Husk’s hand. Wet, hot, and burning. Husk froze. He stared back into the red, the light of it piercing right into his skull.

He didn’t understand what was happening. This should have been easy. With how often Alastor had demeaned him, had humiliated him, had broken his very bones for his slip-ups, torn up his wings for amusement, and would yank at his chain so hard he thought his own neck would snap from the strain—

Slicing the demon’s neck was a mercy out of everything.

Suddenly, all those awful memories came flowing back to him. He had learned to shut them away with drink, and gambling, and any other vices that fell into his lap. If he’d heard the screams from the tower through his walls, he’d just pull the blankets over his head. If Alastor gripped his chin during a conversation, to “Ensure you’re paying attention, my dear friend,” Husk would just roll with it if he felt a certain tension in those fingers. There were times he could push Alastor away, or shout back, but the demon was unpredictable, and the way the dice rolled lately had not been in his favor.

Except now. Except right fucking now. He didn’t have to remember the pain, or the threat of death hanging over his head, or the sick ways Alastor would invade his boundaries. He could tear this man beneath him apart with just his teeth and claws alone, before finally rupturing his heart with the power of angels bent on revenge. He could eat his flesh and feast on his intestines and see how Alastor liked to be on the other side for once—!

All the noise in his mind was so much, hypnotized by that red, by visions of blood and gore and viscera, that he didn’t notice the hands gripping his wrist. They had let go of the broken mic, pressed their talons into his fur.

Then there was the weight on his neck, the links entwined around Alastor’s fingers. They clinked together delicately, almost gently.

It was enough to terrify Husk out of his mind.

And the way the chain pulled him in, as it always did, to fall into that abyss where the smell of rotten meat came from. The way a hand reached up to grip at his cheek, drawing him further down into that same darkness where he can’t scream—

Stop. STOP.

Husk leaped back, his wings outstretched to lift him away from Alastor. Somehow, miraculously, the chain dissipated, like a fog. He stumbled once he landed, gripping onto the card that was still clean of any blood. His wings instinctively furled around his body, trying to forget the hands on him and how their touch skittered across his fur, leaving him confused and horrified at himself.

From such violent thoughts of bloodshed that only Alastor would revel at, to wanting to sink against him.

The red lights of the radio tower continued to flicker. There was a monotonous drone, one that wriggled inside Husk’s skull like a maggot, searching for his soul. He just barely lifted his eyes to see it come from that broken mic, the one that Alastor had gone back to holding tight.

Or had he ever let go? Had Husk just been hallucinating the entire thing? Yet another look at Alastor, at the eyes that bore right through his, made him want to shudder. His wings furled tighter around himself, but he already felt so exposed, right down to his very ribs.

“What did you do to me?” he finally asked, barely able to go past a whisper.

In the background, he thought he could hear soft music play—a piano ballad, one that was played in those old swing clubs from a time he could barely remember, along with a woman’s singing voice. It would then drown in that static, overwhelmed, but it was getting stronger. Alastor was slowly coming to himself.

And the demon laughed again, the filter over his voice lessening just enough for Husk to not mistake his words. “Nothing that you didn’t want for yourself.”

Husk remembered the bloodlust, the texture of Alastor’s skin against his hands, and he wanted to vomit once more.

He didn’t, swallowing any bile as he scrambled back, not caring when he touched broken glass. “Shut up! I can’t even do this now?! I…” His throat was tight. “You’ve ruined everything for me.”

Alastor let his tongue seep out, like a black leech that had found its way to land, before retreating to the dark. “No, I only came to pick up the pieces.” The chuckle reverberated out of him, deep. “Such a naughty liar you are.”

Husk’s claws pierced the floor. The sensation was awful. Any euphoria he felt before from fighting off the angels, from the smiles of his friends, from the very thought that just for once he would finally find freedom—gone.

Alastor wasn’t near him, but he remembered the feeling of his hand on his face, the stroke of fingers through the fur, (the vice-like grip over his mouth to keep him screaming) all as the leash kept pulling him and his will along with it.

“Oh, sweet Husker. You can’t kill what you love.” Said so easily, with such glee that it made Husk’s vision spin. Even so, Alastor’s face stayed imprinted in his memory forever. “But don’t worry. This’ll be our little secret, and don’t we already share so many by now?”

Husk glared at the Radio Demon, but he did so like a cornered animal, hiding behind a worthless shield, remembering the taste of blood on his tongue.

“No one has to know a thing,” Alastor continued. The static wrapped around them both, dripping with mercury. “Let’s make all our new friends so proud.”

Another deal, verbally made within the shattered tower. No one else needed to know of Alastor’s temporary weakness here, his close brush with second death, the loss of control he had, if only for a moment. And no one needed to know Husk’s true nature.

Secrets that would bind them together, strangling, choking, until the very end.

Husk felt a sharp sting on his right palm. He looked at the card he kept holding, at how he cut himself across the heart pattern over his fur. The front of the card was stained.

He gritted his teeth, felt tears prick at his eyes. He quickly put the card away in his pocket.

“Just hurry and fix yourself up,” he muttered as he got to his feet. His wings still stayed around him, gripping onto them like a tattered coat. “Charlie’s probably waiting for you.”

He felt the tears run down his cheeks. Great, now he was crying. For fuck’s sake.

Husk tried turning away, not wanting Alastor to see again how he had this hold on him, how easily he could do that while still bleeding out the floor. But the music kept playing, occasionally skipping a note, to the point that it was almost pleasant.

Sometimes, if he pretended, he could forget the awful things when a nice song played every once in a while.

Husk risked a quick glance, and saw that Alastor was no longer looking at him. Instead, the eyes of the Radio Demon were directed to the floor, to the broken mic cane, where the song echoed out from its tinny speaker.

An intermission.

Husk didn’t want to stick around any longer.

He found the stairs that led down from the half-standing tower. His hand gripped his wings still, before finally going down, and down, and down.

But before he left, he thought he saw familiar, convulsing shadows on the side. Their outlines were tinged in green, their teeth jagged and sharp. One had Alastor’s face, which stared right at him with the utmost glee.

And it winked.

#hazbin hotel #husk #alastor #radiohusk #fanfiction #one shot

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rosemaidenvixen · 2 months ago

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Witch Hunter

Chapter 25

<Previous

Ao3

Claire watched the dirt boil and seethe as her vines dragged Temperance down to her living grave. Frightened gaze vanishing beneath the earth, fingers scrabbling on the surface until they too were pulled down. The dirt shifted and churned a few moments more before going still, not a trace of Temperance remaining.

She thought she’d feel some sense of satisfaction at this, some finality. Instead the searing rage shooting through her sank deeper, smoldering low and dangerous.

“Satan’s harlot!”

She scowled, rage surging back in full force, as she turned towards her other prisoner.

Hopkins squirmed against the ground. Held in place by her vines. Hair all askew and face red, practically spitting with rage.

“Foul jezebel! You bring rot and ruin to god’s creation–”

Claire narrowed her eyes and tightened her fist. Her vines tightening around Hopkins’ leg, cutting off his protests with a pained grunt. The vines wound tighter and tighter until a loud crack echoed through the air as his shinbone snapped. Hopkins letting out an ugly shriek.

“Shut up,” she spat, stomping towards him “This town’s always been a backwards, narrow minded little hovel, but you were the one who spurned them on, that convinced them a witch was the cause of all their troubles,”

She threw an open hand in his direction. The vines around his other leg tightened instantly, going tighter and tighter until both his legs were ensnared. There was a loud snap as his other shinbone snapped but Claire didn’t relent, tightening her vines further and further, pulverizing already broken bone and shredding flesh, blood welling up around the thorns.

“Lying whore,” Hopkins spat through gritted teeth “Puppet of the prince of darkness–”

She threw both her hands forward and squeezed, heat in her belly smoldering, more vines shooting up to ensnare Hopkins’ arms.

“I wasn’t a witch until after you put me on the wheel,” Claire spat “Did that even matter to you? Or were you too caught in being Arcadia’s savior?”

“I have been ordained this mission by god,” Hopkins managed to speak, voice tight with pain “Even if you kill me I was be most high–”

She tightened both hands and twisted, her vines shattering both of his arms at once. His tirade cutting off into a guttural scream.

“You break my bones,” she tightened her fists further, the vines constricting even tighter, grinding the already broken bones to powder, blood staining his sleeves and trousers “I break yours.”

A giggle came up from beside her, Claire glancing over to see the witch sitting on a barrel beside the meetinghouse. The fire around her surged, spreading closer, the witch gracefully leaping down in a flutter of gold silk and copper hair just before the flames could touch her.

“Excellent work so far,” she crooned “And I hate to interrupt your grand finale, but there is someone you missed…”

Claire followed the witch’s gaze only to go still at the sight of the familiar figure staggering towards her.

Her heart stopped.

Pale, dark hair and blue eyes. Limping ever closer, uncaring of the vines and fire.

Her only friend in this god-forsaken town. The one who stabbed her in the back and left her to die.

For a second she was too stunned to react, numb shock filling her. Then searing bloody rage took its place. The vines responded in kind, shooting up and dragging Jim to the ground as Claire stomped towards him.

Jim made no move to get up from where he was crumpled on his knees, tearing at the bandages on his hand with his teeth. The fire in Claire’s chest burning even hotter.

How dare he. How dare he kneel before her in some show of subjugation, as if he had any right to beg for forgiveness after what he did to her. Jim had been the kindest, the best of them, the one person who hadn’t treated her like scum for praying with a rosary. Temperance and Hopkins and their ilk may have been rotten from the start but Jim had been her friend only to betray her in the worst way possible–

Her hands tightened into firsts, the vines constricting in kind.

That made him the worst of all.

She raised a hand, the vines curling further around Jim’s body, thorns cutting scarlet trails on his skin. Jim appeared not to notice, continuing to tear strip after strip of fabric off his hand.

Claire curled her fingers, the vines snapping tight around his throat, red dribbling down from beneath the thorns, struggling now, Jim nevertheless continued tearing at his wrapped hand with his teeth.

Anger burned bright and hot within her. Curling her fingers and vines ever tighter, one good squeeze was all it would take to tear his throat open–

A flash of black tumbled to the ground from beneath the white fabric, Jim grasping it with fumbling hands and tossing it towards her.

Claire was so startled she lost her grip on the vines, faintly aware of Jim gasping in a deep breath, glancing down towards her feet to see–

A single plait of shiny black hair, glimmering in the glow of the firelight.

A cold, slippery something wriggled in past the all consuming anger.

Her mother’s hair.

“I…I’m sorry…”

She jerked her gaze back up towards Jim, staring up at her, face a mask of utter misery.

“I…I betrayed you in the worst way possible,” he said quietly “Saving this little piece of your mother doesn’t come close to redeeming it but it was something I could do…”

He hung his head, shaggy tangles of black hair hanging down in his face “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I don’t deserve forgiveness and I don’t ask for it, I only promise that I won’t try to escape my just punishment,”

“A sweet story…” the witch cooed “But pretty words don’t mend broken bones–” she glanced towards Claire, her smile turning vicious “Or broken hearts, go ahead and finish him sweetling,”

Claire didn’t move, she had no eyes for the single braid of her mother’s hair or Jim’s heartbroken face, too busy staring at his concovered hand. Each of his fingers was unnaturally bent, swollen to the point they didn’t even look real anymore, the thick bandages around his left hand told her it was in a similar state. Another bandage with a dark stain was wrapped around his leg.

Jim hadn’t been walking straight when he’d approached, what other wound was inflicted on his leg? How many more were concealed beneath his clothes–

Did you think Hopkins would be any gentler with him, show him mercy? Hopkins didn’t have a merciful bone in his body

Tears ran down his dirt smeared face, shining in the firelight.

It– it didn’t matter. What a little pain? What mattered was that Jim had forsaken her, betrayed her–

But for how long hadn’t he?

The thought was ice water crashing over her.

How long had he held fast while they’d broken his fingers, destroyed his hands, wounded his leg? How much pain did they have to put him through to make him force the words out?

His hands were as ruined as her arms and legs were, he’d never so much as hold a spoon again

More ice crept it, rapidly overtaking the smoldering fury.

S– so what if he’d broken during her interrogation? Later at her execution, he could have done something, said something–

Then they would have broken him along with her, maybe Barbara to, maybe even Enrique. Her fate had already been sealed by that point–

Did he owe it to her to die with her? Is that what friendship meant?

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, grit her teeth, and balled her hands into fists, vines snapping tight, Jim choking out a gasp.

Of course he did! He was the one who gave them her name in the first place! The least he could do to atone was suffer along with her, bear the same punishment as her, then he…then…

Then Hopkins and his hunters would have too tallies in their ledger instead of one

Her fingers loosened, vines doing the same. Ice and fire warring inside her. She was still angry, she was so so angry. The one person she’d allowed herself to trust had betrayed her and left her to die. She was furious with him–

But she didn’t want to hurt him either.

The witch made a tutting sound in the back of her throat “Darling I know you want to take your time, but I do have places to be, hurry up and finish them won’t you,”

Claire didn’t respond, slowly reaching down to pick up the plait, soft and silky against her scaly skin.

“No.”

The witch snapped her head around “What did you say?”

“No.” Claire gripped her mother’s hair in her clawed fingers “I won’t do it,”

The witch scowled “You’d really spare this wretch!?” she stabbed an accusing finger in Jim’s direction, his only response was to continue hanging his head in silence.

“He betrayed you! Sold you out to the witch hunters, make him pay with his life!”

“No!”

Fury twisted the witch’s features “Why you arrogant little wretch!” she stomped towards Claire “You owe me blood! His blood! And I’ll not be cheated just because you’ve decided to indulge in some misguided sense of merc–”

From out of nowhere the witch stumbled, staggering and struggling to remain upright

Glancing down, Claire saw one of the vines, her vines, twined around the witch’s ankle, bright red blood beading up from under the thorns.

Glancing around, Claire saw more of them, dark vines crawling towards her and the witch. She could still feel their warmth smoldering inside her, but when she tried to pull them back, push them away, nothing happened. Vines creeping ever closer. Strangely enough, despite being close to him the vines left Jim untouched.

The witch ripped her leg free with a scowl “I tire of this petty squabble,” she grabbed Claire by the shoulder, fingers digging in painfully tight “Kill the boy before I tear off your head!”

Claire blinked at the vines then slowly looked up at her “Ruination…that’s it isn’t it? You called down ruination to give me power, and now there must be ruin to pay. And if Jim doesn’t pay then we have to,”

The witch’s face darkened, telling Claire she’d struck the truth dead on “Kill him,” she hissed “Or I’ll tear his head off myself,”

“I don’t think so,” despite the hammering of her heart, vines already starting to wind around her ankles, Claire looked up and stared her straight in the eye “It has to be me, doesn’t it? If you could kill him and settle the debt yourself you would,”

The witch’s face was a mask of cold fury. Fingers digging so hard into Claire’s shoulder for a second she thought the bones might break all over again.

She opened her mouth, but before the witch could get a word out another voice spoke up

“Come now mother no need to lose our composure,”

Both of them turned to see the Englishman striding towards them, vines shifting and parting beneath his feet to allow him passage “Death is not the only road to ruination,” he held up a glass jar filled with black liquid “There are other, less traveled, paths, and even in ruination opportunity can be found,”

In an instant the witch released her grip on Claire’s shoulder to pluck the jar out of his hands, rage from moments ago replaced by an easy smile “My Strickler you always were a clever one,”

She turned and all but threw the jar at her, Claire catching it reflexively “Here, pour this on the boy. He will live on unharmed and your debt will be paid in full,”

Claire stared down at the jar, dark liquid sloshing within “What…what is this?”

“A potion of sorts,” the Englishman spoke up “Whomever it touches shall be as Cain. Shunned from the world of men, turned away with stone and spear, even the light of the sun will forsake them,”

Claire still didn’t move, staring at the dark liquid swirling within the jar.

“And whatever you do choose be quick about it,” the witch said snippily “Or soon enough the choice will be made for you,”

A sharp sting in her calves had Claire glancing down. The vines were twined halfway up her legs now, even with her leathery skin she could feel the bite of the thorns. Lifting her gaze back up to stare at the swirling contents of the jar, her thoughts at war with themselves.

She didn’t want to die, she’d fought and clawed her way back from the maw of death and the last thing she wanted was to go back. But…to do this to Jim, it was almost worse than killing him. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she didn’t want to die–

A sharp tug on the edge of her skirt had her whipping her gaze down. Jim held the edge of her tattered dress in one ruined hand, having crawled across the ground towards her. Staring up at her, eyes filled with pain.

“Do it Claire, any earthly punishment is better than the boiling pit of Hell I deserve, and I don’t want you to suffer any more because of me,”

Something heavy and hot and neither pleasant nor painful shot through her, swirling in her stomach and twisting in her chest. Then before she could stop herself she tore the lid off the jar and dumped the contents on his head.

Ink black liquid cascaded out of the jar, crashing over Jim’s head, soaking his hair and staining his shirt, dark rivulets trickling down his arms and chest.

Immediately the black vines sank back and pulled away from her feet, Claire sent a tug and she could feel them back under her control.

Jim moaned, pitching to the side and collapsing in the dirt.

There was a part of her that itched to help him but Claire didn’t move. Watching as Jim groaned and writhed on the ground.

A crack of bone, Jim’s arm jerking skyward, mangled fingers unnaturally curled, skin of his hand dark and bruised.

More cracks, more spasms of limbs. His arms, his legs, his neck. Jim twitching among the dirt and vines like a smashed insect. Moans of pain turning into howls of agony.

Then those howls became roars.

Fabric ripped and bone crackled as Jim’s limbs grew longer and thicker. Pale skin darkening to a deep indigo. His hair became coarser and thicker, spreading down to his exposed back. A beastly howl of pain and a pair of bones erupted from the top of his head.

Claire forced herself to look away, now empty jar tumbling to the ground.

But in looking away from Jim her gaze landed on Hopkins. A low, throaty sound of pain escaping him as he spasmed on the ground, shattered limbs twitching.

His eyes found her.

“F– filth– filthy witch!” he hissed, foam flecking at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh next I suppose you’re going to want to spare him to,” the witch spoke in a clipped, impatient tone, stepping up to Claire’s side.

Claire stared down at Hopkins for a few moments longer, then turned towards her, meeting the witch’s cool gaze head on.

“All his arms and legs are broken, that counts as ruination right?”

The witch’s lips thinned “I suppose it does…”

Claire glanced back towards Hopkins, then back towards the witch.

“Your younger son, is he still hungry?”

The witch blinked in surprise before a wry smile broke out across her face “I think I may end up liking you after all. Oh Bular darling!”

Loud thudding reverberated through the ground as the dark, hulking figure of the troll king approached.

The witch smiled up at him “This little sweetling is all done here,” she pointed down at Hopkins “Do you want this one?”

A wide toothy grin split the troll king’s face. Hopkins’ eyes widened, gasping and jerking his ruined limbs in a futile attempt to crawl away.

The troll king strode forward, lifting up Hopkins by the shirt, broken bones crackling as his shattered, useless limbs dangled in the air.

“Wh–” Hopkins struggled to speak “Wai–”

The troll king reached forward and ripped off Hopkins’ arm, the scream he made so pained it barely sounded human. The troll king paid no mind, popping the limb in his mouth like a biscuit.

He reached for Hopkins’ other arm but Claire looked away, allowing the sounds of screams and snapping bone to fade into the background along with the roar of the fire and the steady hiss of vines. Turning back over to where Jim was.

Jim, undeniably changed but still utterly recognizable, sat on the ground, staring at his fingers in wonder. There were only nine of them now, skin deep blue and nails dark as charcoal, crisscrossed with rows upon rows of silvery scars. But whole and unbroken all the same.

He was taller, broader, his features more angular. His dark hair more a mane now, sharp tusks jutting up from his jaw and large ivory horns sweeping back out of his head.

So this was what the Englishman meant by ‘as Cain’. Jim was still himself, one look in his eyes assured her of that, but anyone who saw him would see only a beast. Any town he approached would drive him out on the end of muskets and pitchforks.

“As fun as this little detour was, we'd best be on our way,” the Englishman strode forward, sparing a glance down at Jim “Care to join us?”

Jim jerked his head up “What? But I’m…”

“Yes yes rejected from the world of men,” the Englishman waved him off “But we’re not the world of men now are we?”

“I…” Jim turned towards Claire, face twisting up with painful uncertainty.

She looked away “Do what you want. You betrayed me, I cursed you, as far as I’m concerned all debts between us are settled,”

“But…”

“Come now darling it isn’t as though there’s anything left for you here,” the witch gestured around them, the burning buildings and mangled corpses, every inch of ground overgrown with thorny black vines “Come now dears, this detour has been delightful but we have places to be, enemies to conspire against,”

She began striding away from the meeting house, back towards the forest, the troll king and the man in black keeping pace with her.

Jim stayed where he was kneeling on the ground, watching them retreat. For reasons she didn’t fully understand Claire stayed where she was, lingering.

Suddenly there was a yowl, a large shape bounding up to Jim and pressing into his side.

Jim turned and stared at the beast, mouth dropping open, tusks on full display, and eyes going wide “Cinder….?”

The large cat let out a pur, licking his cheek.

For a few moments silence stretched between them, the only sounds Cinder’s purs and Arcadia continuing to burn.

“...where’s Enrique?” Claire said at last.

“The Williams were given custody, they went to the next town over to…beg for assistance from Goody Williams’ brother, my mother accompanied them, they departed just before…”

“Good,” Claire said curtly “The Williams are kind folk, they’ll take care of him, far better than any life I could give him now,”

Silence lapsed between them once again. A raven swooped down and perched on her shoulder, she made no move to wave it off.

“I truly don’t bear you any more grudge,” Claire said quietly, making Jim jerk in her direction.

“I…may not be able to call you my friend, not the way I did before, but…but you’re not my enemy,”

Jim looked stunned, appearing to struggle for words “What…what will you do now?” he said slowly.

“For now I’ll follow them, learn all I can about what it means to be a witch. Later. perhaps I’ll go to Spain and kill my uncle, perhaps not,” her voice lowered “But whatever comes…I wouldn’t mind a familiar presence, even one that’s not my friend,”

With that she turned and quickly began striding away, doing her best to cross the distance between her and the witch’s company. Cinder perked up and bounded after her, leaving Jim alone.

For a moment Jim stayed there kneeling on the ground, watching them retreat. Then he slowly turned towards the meetinghouse. The building was on the verge of collapse, more flame than timber now. The other buildings nearby fared no better. It wouldn’t be long until the entire town was ash. Mangled corpses lay scattered all about, illuminated by the firelight, all twined with the wicked thorny vines.

The vines were everywhere, tangled around every corpse, spreading as far as the eye could see and wrapping around every building they touched. Consuming what little was left of Arcadia.

Then Jim looked down at his hand, with one fewer finger than the other.

He slumped forward and let out a heavy sigh. Then after a moment he braced his legs underneath him and stood. The motion was smooth, both limbs fully supporting his weight.

He cast a long, lingering glance towards the place that had been his home then turned away. Following in the path of the others, leading away from the fire into the depths of the dark night.

What is well documented is the disaster that occurred the evening following the witch's execution, an event now referred to as ‘The Witch's revenge'. There are numerous accounts with varying contradictions, but all agree that the town of Arcadia was burned to the ground, foodstores destroyed, all the livestock slaughtered, and many people were killed. And many more starved to death that winter. It is also believed that this event was the origin of the witch creepers (Sanguis malefica), a species of predatory vine, unique in that it is an obligate hematophage, which only lives in Arcadia. As this is the first known record of their existence.

--according to legend the witch was broken on the wheel and left hanging from a tree outside of town. That night when the devil came to aid her he cut off the arms and legs of a demon and gave them to her to replace her broken ones. However, determining fact from fiction is difficult due to the scant documentation of the witch's life and execution.

While most historians scoff at the idea of magic being at the heart of this disaster, the fact remains that before 1624 it was well documented that Arcadia was a thriving agricultural community. Then after ‘The Witch's revenge' and the appearance of the witch creepers it marked the end of Arcadia as a farming community, as the witch creepers outcompeted every single attempted crop and inhibited the grazing of livestock, and were highly resistant to all attempts to eradicate them. But while farming and agriculture were an impossibility, the town of Arcadia rebuilt itself around the legend of the witch and the study of Sanguis malefica into the thriving community we know today.

There is still much we don't know about the exact events that transpired four hundred years ago and may never know, but one thing we are certain of is that the legend of the Witch of Arcadia will live on for many years to come.

--Excerpt from the presentation by the Arcadia Oaks Historical Society from the Arcadia Oaks Quadricentennial Celebration

It was late into the night, but bright street lights kept the large banner hanging over the town hall well lit. Illuminating the words 'Four Hundred Years of the Witch' for all to see. Not that there were many left to gaze at it. The celebrations of the evening had largely died down, leaving only crumpled paper cups and stray fliers dotting the ground as evidence of the large crowd that had been there a few hours before. A small group of stragglers lingered, giggling and passing a bottle concealed in crinkling brown paper between themselves. Drunken mumblings of 'Season of the Witch' echoing through the near silent square.

Had they been a bit more sober, or perhaps glanced up, they would have spotted another figure hovering at the edge of the square. Quiet, unassuming, hood pulled low over her face and hands shoved into her pockets.

She glanced up at the trees. Strands of glowing orange lights hung from their branches, twined with the thorny black vines that grew on and around every tree in the square, the two firmly entangled. She had no doubt that there would be many cuts and injuries when it came time to remove the lights.

Her gaze shifted to the other objects adorning the trees. There were countless of them, some made with clear artistry others with clumsy, childish hands.

Crafted with wood, paper, and metal. Adorned with ribbons and paint, spikes and nails, thick lumps of glue covered in glitter. They ranged from the size of her hand to as wide across as her arm. No two were alike, but all shared one common trait.

They were wheels.

Hang a wheel on your door

Witch will trouble you no more

She stared up at them, swaying cruelly in the breeze. Many times when she gazed on these wheels it filled her with blinding range, but now she could only feel a numb emptiness.

Turning she made to leave only to be halted by a tugging on her coat. Glancing up, she saw a vine, one of the so-called 'witch creepers' stretching out from the tree towards her.

She made to lift her arm and then hesitated, glancing at the intoxicated group. There was a chance they were too tipsy to notice, that in their drunken haze they'd barely be aware of their surroundings. But what if they did notice, what if they saw, screamed, ran? Wailing about the horror they'd witnessed. Would she escape their notice or would the legend of the witch gain new teeth this night?

After a few more moments of introspection she found that she didn't truly care.

Pulling her arm free she held it out towards the vines, black scales glittering under the orange lights, curled talons mirroring the thorns on the vines. Something that would have looked far more at home on a lizard or a dragon than a human arm.

The vine wrapped around her hand, thorns respectfully curled inwards holding back their sharp points, winding around her fingers, palm, and forearm in a caress.

A twisted, hateful creation showing deference to its creator.

After a few moments the vine pulled away and she shoved her hand back into her coat. A glance to the side revealed that the drunken revelers hadn't noticed either the vine or her malformed limb.

She glanced up at the banner again, giving it a long, lingering stare before turning away with a heavy sigh. Walking out of the brightly lit town square away into the shadowy streets.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #morgana #bular the vicious #walter strickler #witch hunter #rmvwrites

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hswriting · 2 months ago

Text

Hard to Love - Part 4

[Image Alt ID: a two picture collage with a light green background. The first picture is of Harry Styles in a green sweater, pearl necklace. He is smiling with his eyes closed. The second picture is of Gemma Styles. She is wearing her brown hair down. She is wearing a gray sweater. She is looking off into the distance. End Alt ID]

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Masterlist Series Part 3 Part 5

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4.0k words

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April is in recovery for her injuries, but isn’t progressing as fast as the doctors hoped. As her support, Harry needs to find a way to help April get through this.

CW: mentions of recovery from wounds, hospital, abuse, guns, dead sibling

My week at the hospital has been extended for another week. They would like to see me progress more in my physical therapy before they send me home. They made sure to let me get my hopes up, and tell me on the day I thought I would be getting discharged.

The doctors are standing there, one on each arm, trying to get me to walk. I’ve taken two steps this session, but my leg is killing me, and so are my ribs.

“It’s only going to get easier if you get through these hard parts. You can do it.” The doctor on my left says.

“You don’t understand. I can’t put any weight on it. It feels like my leg is on fire.” I tell them through my teeth.

“Let’s try to walk to the door and back and then we can be done for now. How does that sound?” The one on the right offers.

“I can try but I’m telling you I can’t.” I tell them. I begin to switch the pressure from leg to the other. Sharp stabbing pains shoot through my leg. I want to let up, but I have to do this. I take a step.

“That’s great. A few more.”

“Please no. No more please.” I beg them.

“You won’t be able to walk properly if we don’t get you moving soon.” One says, and I know they are right.

I go again, and take another step, pain flooding me. I lose my footing and fall into their arms. They take me to the bed and sit me down as tears stream down my face.

“A few steps is better than none. Good work this session. We will come back in a few hours. Sir, do you have a moment?” The doctor says to me, and then directs his last question at Harry.

“Of course.” He says. He steps out of the room with the two doctors. I can see them talking through the glass, but can’t make out what they are saying.

Harry has stepped up. He is still working at the restaurant, but every day he comes back here to help. I think in a way he feels responsible even though none of this is his fault. On the days he doesn’t have to work the next day, he sleeps in the reclining chair they brought in for him. The whole next day that he isn’t working he is by my bedside.

Whenever I try to tell him he doesn’t have to take care of me, that he has a life and I’m not his responsibility, he brushes it off and tells me I’m ridiculous. I tell him he is missing his games that he likes to play and he tells me to be quiet and that I don’t know what I’m saying.

It means a lot to me, despite everything, that Harry is still here. I really would be alone if he wasn’t here, and I don’t know that I could handle that. He’s being, dare I say it and jinx myself, a good friend. He had taken my recovery into his hands.

I look out at him and see him, stone faced, talking to the doctors. I see him glance in at me as the doctors take their turn. I look away, embarrassed he caught me looking. I pull my table to my bedside and work on one of the word searches Harry got for me in the gift shop. I tried to give him money for it, but he wouldn’t let me. He said it’s a gift shop, not a buy it for yourself shop.

Harry slides the door back open and shuts it behind him. He sits down beside me.

“What was that?”

“They just needed to talk to me.”

“What about?” I ask him.

“Do you always ask so many questions?” He asks me in return.

“When it’s about my care, yes. Yes I do.” I tell him and he sighs with a smile on his face.

“They were just telling me about your progress. They’d like to see you progress faster with walking. They are trying to find a way to motivate you.”

“Really strong pain killers would be a great motivator.” I tell him with a smile.

“I told you that they make you too loopy. That’s why I call you loopy.”

“I know, but pain is the only reason I can’t do it. It literally sends stabbing pains all the way up into my back.”

“I know. They say it will hurt less the more you work the muscle. You just have to do it.”

“Easier said than done.” I tell him, ending the conversation. I continue to find more words as Harry just sits there and looks at me. He does a smirk, and then quickly swipes my word book from me, my highlighter striking the whole page as it’s pulled from me.

“Hey!”

“You want this back, you have to come over here and get it.”

“That’s not fair Harry I can’t!”

“Yes you can. You have to work for it. So between now and your next session, find the motivation to come and grab it back from me.” He says and I’m furious. He can’t do that. This isn’t the way to motivate me.

“My next session isn’t for 3 hours Harry. What am I going to do until then?”

“I don’t know. Figure it out.” He says slyly. I huff at him and look away.

“You’re a dick.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Give me back my book.”

“Come and get it, Loopy.”

“I don’t have anyone to lean on to get over there.”

“Guess you have to wait.” He says. “Or I could help you.”

“I’m mad at you.” I snap. “I don’t want your help.”

“Sounds like an excuse.” He smirks at me again. That’s it. I’ve had it. I move the table. I throw the blanket off of my legs and turn myself to the side of the bed. Harry sets the word book down across the room and comes to my beside. He puts both of his arms out in front of me. I stand by holding his arms, putting most of the pressure on my good leg.

“Who knew this was all it would take. I would have done this so much sooner.” He chuckles.

“Shut up Harry. I’m only doing it so I don’t die of boredom.” I tell him. I begin to switch the pressure to my bad leg to take a step. Pain shoots through me, but I finish the step to put the pressure back onto my good leg. I’m sure I’m hurting Harry’s arms with how deep my fingernails are probably digging from the pain, but I don’t care. He deserves it for taking my book.

I begin to do it again, the pain flaring up my leg. I was just holding onto his arms, but Harry grabs my arms to help steady me. This step takes longer, the pain much stronger. A string of curse words leaves my mouth.

“Only two more steps and you’ll have it.”

“Yeah but then I have to walk back.”

“I’ll put you back. Can’t hold onto me with a book in your hand.” He says. I begin the next step and stumble. My leg gives out and Harry catches me. A tear streams down my face. He sits me in the chair he was sitting in previously. “It’s okay. Take a break.” He says.

I reach over to the stand and grab my book from my chair.

“Ready?” He asks me. I nod, wiping my face. He scoops me up and puts me back on my bed. I cover back up. “You did a great job.”

“It doesn’t feel like a great job.”

“Two steps is progress from zero. And who knows, maybe later when they come back in, you’ll be running across the room.” He says.

“Yeah right.” I tell him. I open my word book up and put it on the table again. I work on it some more until my next session.

“Okay April, are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” I tell them. I close my word find book and push the table away. I remove the blanket again and move to the edge of the bed. They start to walk over to me.

“You guys should have seen it. She did a few steps earlier to grab her book.”

“That’s great!” The one doctor says. “How did you do it?”

“Harry helped me.”

“Well that’s amazing.” We knew you could do it.”

“Can he help me again?” I ask quietly.

“Of course.” They say. I think even if he wasn’t allowed, they would let him just to get me out of bed.

Harry looks nervous now as he approaches me.

“What’s your deal?” I ask him quietly.

“I don’t like being watched.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You don’t have to-“

“That’s not what I said. I don’t like being watched, but this is important. I’ll do it, but you really need to put in an effort and don’t embarrass me.” He jokes and I chuckle.

“Kind of makes me want to fall on purpose.”

“Hey now.” He says. I grab his arms and he grabs mine. I stand up. I want to get this over with so it can be time for dinner. I’m starving. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Let’s get this over with.” I tell him. I take my first step and the pain is there again. I look down at my legs as I begin the next. I hate that this is so difficult. I just wish my leg would cooperate.

“Hey. Don’t look down there. Look at me. Don’t focus on it.” Harry reminds me. I look into his green eyes and focus on that. Look at the green. Focus.

Before I’m even aware of it, I’m to the other side of the room. My leg is killing me and I have no idea how I got here.

“April this is fantastic. Let’s try going a little farther.” The doctor smiles at me. Harry gives me such a big grin. He guides me to the door, and then back to my bed. The doctors write in my charts and congratulate me on my progress today. They leave and dinner is served into my room. I eat quickly and lay down to rest. Harry sits beside me.

“You really did great today, Loopy.” He says gently.

“You aren’t going soft on me now are you?” I ask him and he laughs.

“Never. Just wanted to tell you I’m proud of you. You’ve been through so much and you’re doing great.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do what I’ve done if you weren’t here to support me Harry.” I tell him.

“You did the work. I’m just here.”

“No really. All jokes aside, you’ve been a great help. It’s been nice being your friend. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Just for a little while? You think I gave up my picking on you just to be friends for a minute? What am I gonna do? You get released and I go back to hating you and making work miserable for you? Be quiet.” He says.

“Just think, if you don’t go back to hating me the next step is being besties.” I warn him.

“Oh no. I’ll go back. Forget what I just said.” He chuckles. “I do like being your friend. You’re not that bad. I’m sorry I was so awful before.”

“I’ve already told you to stop apologizing.”

“I still feel horrible. I think a part of me always will. You were literally being abused and I made fun of you for that. I’m sorry.”

“What can I say to make you stop apologizing?”

“You can’t say anything.” He says.

“Okay. Well I’ll just have to keep reminding you that it’s okay. It’s behind us. Now quit.” I tell him and he gives me a small smile.

“Get your rest, Loopy. Got some hard work ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I say. I close my eyes. After a long minute of silence, I hear Harry whisper.

“Goodnight Loopy.” He whispers. I decide not to answer. I think he meant for me to be asleep. I drift off.

I wake up scared.

“Loopy, you are shaking. Are you okay?” He asks. I feel tears streaming down my face and sweat covering my body. I sit up, pain filling my ribs. “Hey slow down. I can’t understand you.” He tells me. I didn’t even realize I was speaking.

“He- he was here.” I swallow hard, fear paralyzing me. “He had the gun again. He h-hurt me. He hurt you.”

“Me?” He asks.

“I watched him shoot you. He shot you.” I repeat.

“Hey. I’m right here. He’s not here.” He reassures me. I ball my hands into fists to try and get the shaking to stop. “Loopy listen to me.” He tells me but I can’t. My mind is filled with worry. They still haven’t caught him, and my dream could become a reality.

Harry stands beside my bed. He puts his hands on my shoulders.

“April. Look at me. It’s okay. You’re safe.” I hear him tell me. I flick my eyes up at his face. He looks concerned. “He can’t get in here. Your room is on lockdown. Only me and the doctors can come in.”

“He had a gun. No lockdown matters when he can shoot his way here.”

“Do you know how many police officers are here who have guns? He may not even get one off before they get him. He doesn’t dare step in here.”

“He shot you Harry.”

“I’m right here. Focus on me. I’m right here. I’m okay.” He says. I think back to earlier when he said these words to me. I look back into his eyes. “Good. Now look. It was just a bad dream.” He comforts me.

My breaths begin to slow. I lay back down on my pillow and look at the ceiling. Harry scoots his chair over here. His hand rests on the bed momentarily before it finds my hair. He brushes a lock of hair from my forehead. He then began to play with my hair, and that relaxes me. I eventually am able to fall back asleep.

When I wake up again, Harry is still awake, his hand on my hair.

“Hey Loopy. You alright?” He asks gently. He removes his hand from me.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” I respond. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do. I wouldn’t have been able to fall back asleep if you didn’t mess with my hair.”

“Yeah. Don’t be all ooey gooey about it.”

“Afraid you really have gone soft?” I try to joke. Harry doesn’t laugh. “What’s wrong?”

“Just worried about you. You were terrified. I’ve never seen someone so scared before.”

“It’s like you said. It was just a dream. You talked me down Harry.” I tell him. He doesn’t say anything. “How did you know that would calm me down?”

“I guessed. My sister. She, um, she used to help me when I had panic attacks. She always played with my hair to help calm me down. I guess I wanted it to work for you too.” He tells me, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Is all I can manage to say. I want to ask about the panic attacks but I don’t, afraid he will shut me out.

“Yeah. She was lovely. You two would have gotten along. You say stuff that reminds me of her sometimes.” He says softly. He sounds like he could cry. “She always used to pick on me about being a big softie. Always said I had a big heart. I guess that’s why that when she died…” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry Harry.” I tell him. He doesn’t look up at me. He doesn’t say anything. He sits there for a moment, continuing to fidget with his jewelry.

“I didn’t mean to get so emotional. I’m sorry.” He apologizes to me. He wipes a single tear from his face.

“Harry. You’re allowed to be emotional. I’d love to hear about your sister if you want to talk about her.” I tell him. He looks up at me.

“You’d actually want to listen to me talk about her?” He asks unsure, but hopeful. I give him a reassuring smile.

“Of course. I can see how important she is to you.” I tell him. He smiles at me.

He begins telling me a story about them as kids. They often had very heated arguments over a card game they used to play. Harry called Gemma a cheater every game. She would get so defensive. It got to a point where their mom banned them from playing cards in the house.

He then told me another story. This one was about how in school he was bullied really bad. They always called him names and pushed him around until his sister saw it in the hallway once. She went over and took care of them. Harry didn’t go into much detail about what she did, but she got suspended for a week. Their mom was upset with them, but ultimately proud that Gemma took up for Harry.

I’ve never seen Harry light up like this. He seems so happy and full of life when he talks about her. It’s a bittersweet happiness. He obviously misses her so much. I feel for him in a way. I miss my little brother. He’s not dead, but we don’t talk anymore.

Harry’s next story is interrupted by my breakfast being brought in, as well as the nurse telling me what time my physical therapy doctor will be here. I scarf down my food and get ready for physical therapy. I sit up, Harry ready at my bedside.

I whiz through this session with Harry’s help. He tells me more about his sister as I walk around the room and in the hall. He didn’t fail to remind me that I was doing a great job. It made me happy that I’ve accomplished so much.

After the good session, we find ourselves chatting away about our lives. He talks about his family. I talk about mine. He starts talking of his future plans. He wants to quit the restaurant that we work at and start his own. He has big dreams.

“So where does your secret girlfriend fit into all of this?”

“What secret girlfriend?” He asks, a bit confused.

“You have some big plans. I was wondering where she is in all of this.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He says to me. “Hard to believe I know. I’m so handsome and intelligent. I don’t know how girls keep their hands off of me.”

“There’s no way you don’t have a girlfriend. I always thought you did.”

“Did they give you drugs again? Are you loopy on me?” He laughs. “I’m serious. I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”

“How come?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Why so curious? Are you secretly in love with me or something?” He jokes.

“No way! I’m genuinely just curious.” I defend. I have never thought about Harry that way. I wonder what he would be like.

I push the thought aside and wait for his answer.

“I had a girlfriend back when I first got out of high school. She was great, don’t get me wrong. I just got so depressed and cold when Gemma passed. I knew I wasn’t giving her what she needed so I let her go. She didn’t need to share my burden. I was never the same socially after that. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone. I didn’t have any friends after that. I know Gem would scold me if she were here. She would tell me I didn’t need to give up my life since she died, but nothing has been the same. So yeah. I put on the armor. I didn’t let anyone inside. I still am that way I guess.”

“You were. You’re not anymore, at least to me. The fact you’re talking to me like this at all shows that you were able to take off that armor, put a crack in the walls you’ve built to keep yourself safe. It seems like you’ve come a long way Harry. I’m proud of you.” I tell him. I see his face redden but he tries to hide it.

“Gross.” He says playfully.

“How did I know you weren’t going to take me seriously?

“I must be predictable.” He says. “What about you? Robbie is out of the picture now.” He reminds me.

“I know, but honestly I’m scared to date again. Robbie was nice at first. I don’t know what I did to cause him to be that way. I don’t want to go through this again.”

“That’s valid, but at the same time, not everyone is like Robbie. You did nothing to deserve what happened to you. You didn’t make him that way.”

“Nobody is going to want someone like me.” I tell him matter of factly.

“Someone like you? What does that mean?”

“I’ve got issues Harry. The baggage and trauma of Robbie is never going to go away. I’m always going to be scared. I’m always going to worry. I just don’t feel like anyone can like me. Let alone love me.”

“You can go to therapy to get rid of Robbie’s baggage and treat trauma, but you’re wrong about people not liking you. I didn’t like you, but look at where I’m at now. I’d say we’re friends.”

“Yeah but you don’t like me like that Harry. It’s different. I want somebody to look at me and just not be able to take their eyes off of me. I want somebody who wants to do things with me and not me constantly doing for them. I want someone to smile with. To laugh with. I want to feel wanted.”

“There is someone out there who will treat you like that as the bare minimum. They will adore you. They will love you. They will do so much more than the bare minimum. You’re worth that April.” He tells me. “You’re worth being loved.”

I don’t say anything in return. It was such a sweet thing to say, and I just have to take a moment not only to appreciate what was said, but also who said it. I used to hate him. I used to not want to speak to him, but he’s here now, saying all of these nice things. It makes me come back to the thought about earlier.

What would Harry really be like. He would be different, but how different? Would he say sweet things all the time? Would he be more open about things like he was today?

I push the thought aside again. I can’t think of him that way. He is taking care of me and I’m soon going to be living in his house. I can’t jeopardize this.

“Loopy?” He asks when I don’t answer. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” I tell him. “Just thinking.”

“Okay.” He says. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks and I shake my head.

“What are you going to call your restaurant?” I ask to change the subject.

“I don’t know. Maybe you can help me come up with a name.” He says. We go through names all the way until lunch. Then I’m pulled into my next session. They take me to a room with other physical therapy equipment. That’s where I spend the next part of my day. I make a bit more progress before Harry says he has to go home and get ready for work tomorrow.

“You still have my number on your table right?” He asks, packing up his stuff. I nod. “If you wake up again tonight like last night, call me and I’ll answer.”

“Thanks Harry.” I say. He opens the door and steps out. He closes it again and leaves me alone. I lay down and close my eyes. I find myself worrying about dreaming of Robbie again, but my mind soon drifts off to Harry and our conversation earlier. I deserve love to the fullest extent. I deserve to be wanted.

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 3 Part 5

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #hswriting #hard to love #htl

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feyres-divorce-lawyer · 1 year ago

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ok my eye kinda twitches when ppl, even jokingly, jab at feyre for not knowing the answer to the riddle immediately because like… that’s the point

setting aside her illiteracy, her not knowing the answer until the very end is the point because she has went through what the riddle says:

“there are those who seek me a lifetime, but never we meet”

feyre seeks love from the people around her, she seeks it from her sisters, from her father, even when she knows it’ll never happen, she seeks it from isacc, and the person she seeks love from the most? her mother. her mother is whole reason she’s hunting. every time she shot an arrow, it was for her mother; are you paying attention to me now, mom? am i good enough now? and this love from her mother is a love she’ll never meet because the bitch is dead

“and those i kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet”

from feyre’s pov, she’s the savior of her family. she’s the one who hunts, she’s the one who keeps them all alive, and that’s how she shows love, and yet (again from her pov) they don’t seem all that appreciative of it.

“as times i seem to favor the clever and the fair”

nesta, the clever and elain, the fair. to feyre, she was always left out of whatever bond nesta and elain had formed with each other before she was born. the love they hold for each other seemed far greater than the love she had for them

“but i bless all those who are brave enough to dare”

and here is where things start to change. her being brave enough to shoot that wolf brings her tamlin, the first person in her life that she has never had to provide for. he takes care of her and most importantly he takes care of her family. he releases her from her self-apointed burden and for the first time in eight years, the only person she’s responsible for keeping alive is herself. tamlin is the reason for all this, that makes him the man she grows to love. she was blessed with him.

“by large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet”

once she’s acclimated to spring (tamlin did forcibly break into her home and knocked her out) feyre’s happy. she left the cottage with the belief that there was no such thing as a better world and completely devoid of hope. compared to when she’s in spring, her biggest worries of the day is trying to convince alis to let her wear pants. tamlin, bar calanmai, is the softest and shiest man she’s ever met. he makes her poems out of words she chose, he encourages her inner artist, he takes her to swim in a pool of starlight, he lets her see the world through his eyes and, even if it was just for a moment, it was mesmerizing.

“but scorned, i become a difficult beast to defeat”

and here is where there’s trouble in paradise. tamlin sends feyre away with his false explanation of the blight, of course feyre doesn’t listen and comes back anyway, and she learns of amarantha. amarantha who tricked all the high lords and rendered them practically powerless against her. and why? because she was scorned by tamlin, who she chased for centuries (eww btw). feyre’s trials are exceptionally difficult, especially the third, because amarantha wanted to prove feyre unworthy of the love she was scorned of, prove the inconsistent heart of a human

“for though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,”

amarantha is beating feyre up, every strike of her hand breaks another one of feyre’s bones. she’s broken and bloody, and at this rate, she is going to die.

“when i kill, i do it slow”

but she’d already been dying, hasn’t she? every second under the mountain, every day in that cell rotting away, every night she was forced to dance, when she broke her arm killing the wyrm, when she was almost skewered by hot spikes, when she had to stab those faeries. it was already killing her, over three slow months. why had she done this again?

oh yeah,

“But I wouldn’t say it. Because loving Tamlin was the only thing I had left, the only thing I couldn’t sacrifice.”

she loves him, your honor

#acotar proving once again to be the best book in this garbage series #me realizing halfway through this that ch. 44 is the exact same thing #now that i think about it #the very existence of the riddle further proves how horribly written acomaf was #pro feyre #she really stared an evil queen down and refused to admit she didn’t love her man #ugh that shit was so cool #acotar #acotar analysis #pro tamlin #pro feylin

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annymation · 10 months ago

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So I saw an ask regarding what would happen if KOW Asha and Aster met their movie selves. Now I’m wondering how KOW Magnus and Amaya would react if they saw their movie selves.

Okay this will be fun. I'll answer kinda free style. Both KOW Mag and Amaya are how they were in the beginning of my rewrite, so they have no idea about their own fate by the way, while the movie versions of them already went though their own story.

Picture that KOW Amaya and Canon Amaya are having a lil tea party, KOW Amaya pretending to be nice to manipulate goodie two shoes Canon Amaya into giving her some juicy gossip.

Canon Amaya: And then, I saw him breaking 3 wishes all at once and absorbing their power, can you believe it?

KOW Amaya: *gasp* Nooooo, 3 wishes? Oh that's simply awful. Then what did you do?

She sips her tea, thinking about how her husband has been breaking wishes of people sent to the dungeons for years now.

Canon Amaya: Well, naturally I tried to bring him back to his senses, make him realize that forbidden magic isn't the way.

KOW Amaya: Of course, of course

Canon Amaya: He then went on and on about how Asha pulled a star from the sky and was trying to destroy everything we've built. But I knew that wasn't true, all she wanted was her family wishes back.

KOW Amaya: My my, yours sound like quite the whiny baby, isn't he?

Canon Amaya: Heheh you know what? Yes, he kinda is sometimes.

KOW Amaya: But wait a moment... How did you know the girl only wanted her family's wishes back?

Canon Amaya:.......................... I don't know, I just knew.

KOW Amaya: Fair enough.

Canon Amaya: Anyway, long story short, he threatened me with his staff, the nerve-

KOW Amaya: Oh-hohoh I would take it from his hands and stabbed him with it. *sips tea*

Canon Amaya: ... Umm I don't think I'd-

KOW Amaya: Or maybe I'd dare him to shoot just to see what he'd do, sounds enticing hihihi

Canon Amaya: ... What's wrong with you?

KOW Amaya: Oh honey get comfortable, I have a list.

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

Now for Canon Magnifico and KOW Magnifico, this will be fun.

KOW Magnifico is straight up just mocking what a non threatening villain Canon Magnifico. This takes place after the events of the movie (I guess KOW Mag got himself inside the mirror temporarily just to troll with the dude, honestly he would)

KOW Magnifico: Awwwwn was the little light in the sky just to scawy for you? Had to make a whole scene about it? Hahahaha

Canon Magnifico: Listen here you reviling oaf, bright lights remind me of fire, it triggered my trauma and I panicked!

KOW Mag: "Oh boo-hoo the mean man burned my village to the ground!" That's you, that's how you sound like, literally because we have the same voice.

Canon Mag: I just wanted to protect my kingdom, make sure that THAT didn't happen again.

KOW Mag: I think there has been a mistake, I was told you were a criminal, but this is some self righteous hero talk if I've ever seen one. Pfffft you even got the M on the back of your cape like a lil super hero, how sweet hahah

Canon Mag: Y-you're no one to judge, I see you got an M too on your shoulder pad

KOW Mag: Nuh-uh, this is the scorpio sign, you uncultured swine.

Canon Mag: Ugh I'll have you know I did some horrible things as a villain

KOW Mag: Oh do tell.

Canon Mag: I secretly didn't grant all the wishes of my people

KOW Mag: That was not a secret, you just got lucky the peasants don't know basic math.

Canon Mag: I-I made Asha watch as I didn't grant her grandfather's wish on his 100th birthday, and I swore her family would never get any of their wishes granted

KOW Mag: I killed her family, next.

Canon Mag: Wha- Okay uh- I broke 4 wish bubbles

KOW Mag: Heh heh is that supposed to be impressive?

Canon Mag: I threatened my wife!

That gets a reaction out of him.

KOW Mag: ...... You what?

Canon Mag: Ha! See? I told you I was ev- OUCH!"

KOW Mag give him a punch in the face

KOW Mag: NO ONE THREATENS MY WIFE! IN ANY DIMENSION!

He proceeds to beat him up.

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #ask #disney wish #wish #wish movie #wish 2023

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anathemafiction · 2 years ago

Text

My Valentine

Alessa walks like an arrow, eyes facing forward, face closed, and lips thinned. She doesn't stump because her steps are too nimble, but people instinctually get out of the way as they see her marching down the street.

You sit at the edge of a broken pillar, basking in the late afternoon sun when she comes into your peripheral vision. You turn your chin to smile at her, but when you see her striding as if she marches for war, your smile turns into a grin.

"Alessa," you greet when she comes to a stop beside you. "Let me guess, someone dared to laugh in your presence?"

Alessa's blue eyes fix on yours, and you have to hold in a chuckle at the ice cracking within. "What nonsense are you spewing now?"

"What happened?"

"Why must something have had to happen?"

You gesture in her general direction.

She presses her lips even tighter together. "Nothing has transpired," she says coldly and then stops. Alessa stands there, rigid and stiff and... almost awkward. You cock your head, studying her. Something is odd.

"Alessa," you say, voice lower as you scoot closer to her in your seat. Her eyes shift to the side, avoiding yours. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

You reach a hand to hers and find it cold.

"I..." Alessa inhales, and now her fingers welcome yours. You intertwine your hands together. She still avoids your eyes, however, even as she steps closer. "I have something for you."

That has your eyebrows shooting up. "What?"

"'Tis... a gift," Alessa elaborates, her voice a whisper. You lean forward to make sure you can hear her. "It is costumery to... give a gift on this day."

Her hair falls over her face, but it can't hide the light red on the top of her cheeks. You stand up so you can brush it away. You let your fingers roam her cheek, and then you gently pull her chin up. Alessa lifts it, eyes finally locking on yours with an almost daring edge. You smile at the sight. She is so beautiful. "You have a gift for me?" you ask, lips turning at the corners.

(...)

Alain turns over on the bed, his bare chest glistening and curls sticking to his forehead. "I'm spent," he declares, flopping down on the mattress. The noble has a lazy grin, but his eyes can barely stay open, the brown almost dark in the shadows of the night.

You smile and crawl closer to him. Alain lifts his arm so you can snuggle underneath it. "Already? You've been drinking too much wine, Alain. You're getting slow," you say with a sly smile. Your hand wanders over his chest, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat.

"Are you trying to insult my ego?" Alain asks in a drawl. You can hear the sleep in his voice. "Because I... can I answer in the morrow? I can't think of anything witty right now."

You chuckle and press your cheek to the bend of his shoulder. His hand loops around your waist, bringing you closer as your own eyelids start to sting. "Hmm, I suppose I can let this go," you mumble. Sleep does sound good. "Just this once."

"This once," Alain echoes. And you close your eyes and plunge into the sweet depths of slumber. Outside, it's cold, but in Alain's bed, bare body wrapped with his, you couldn't be warmer. More comfortable. You sink down with a ghost of a satisfied smile, your muscles relaxed, and faint ripples of pleasure slowly and gently coating your nerves.

You're so warm. So—

Cold.

You shiver and crack your eyes open to meet a pale, morning light. The sun barely slips from the window, and a chill meets your skin before the bed's cover falls over you again. "Alain?"

He's halfway to the door, putting on a green robe, but your voice has him freezing. The noble stays in place for a moment, but then, very slowly, he looks back. "Did I wake you?" he asks. You can't make out his face in the low light, just shadows.

You frown. "Were you trying to leave?"

Alain pauses. "Yes."

There's a stab of hurt, but you push it away. "Oh," you say and look to the side. It's fine. You don't—

There's a box next to your pillow.

(...)

"Open your hand."

She gruffs out the command, but Neia doesn't wait for you to follow it. A large hand grabs your wrist and squeezes until your fingers spread in five directions. "Ouch," you protest, although it didn't really hurt. Neia can be rough, but she never crosses the threshold into pain. At least, not when it comes to you.

You've always marveled at how much control she has over her own strength.

"Stop whining," Neia commands again, and drops something in your palm.

She lets go of you, leaning her back on the wall with crossed arms over her chest. You lift an eyebrow, purposely not looking at the long, odd-shaped object you're holding. "Can't you give things like a normal person?" you ask her.

Neia frowns and looks to the side. "Is normal what you want from me?" she gruffs. And you almost find endearing the way she clenches her jaw and refuses to acknowledge you. "Because you're bound for disappointment, sweetling."

You chuckle. "You can be so dramatic, Neia."

The ex-Inquisitor turns her chin to give you a piercing glare. In the past, in another life, it would freeze the blood in your veins. Right now, it only makes you laugh louder. "Just fucking look at it."

You do.

(...)

Lance has your hand in his.

"And this one," he says, pointing at the deepest line that crosses the middle of your palm. "Is the lifeline. It shows how long your life will be."

You cock your head at it. "Doesn't seem very long."

Lance shakes his head, blue hair swinging from side to side. "Ah, no, no, do not be deceived. Do you see this?" His nail travels along the lifeline, curving around your palm until it merges with your wrist. "It keeps going, my mercenary. Look, it thins here, but over here it deepens again and—" At this point, Lance has your arm lifted in the air as his fingers go down your forearm to your elbow. "I find it here still! You'll have a long life indeed."

You can't help but laugh. "I don't think that's how it works, Lance," you say. His fingers massage your elbow, always so nimble, always so quick.

"Please. I have a great knowledge of palm reading," Lance retorts. He's smiling, truly smiling, and it makes his grey eyes seem so light, they look blue. "It is honestly quite insulting to be doubted."

It's your turn to shake your head. "Oh, really? Great knowledge, do you? And where have you acquired it?"

"I saw a reading not once but twice."

You laugh, and Lance rewards you with a proud smile. His gold tooth stands out amongst the others, and as it captures your gaze, you fail to notice Lance's quick fingers reaching for something in his vest pocket. In a flash, both his hands are on your arm again, and now he starts to drag them down towards your own. "There is yet another important line in our palms," he says.

You lift an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Lance hums and turns your palm up. "Its reading was the most sought-after in all the two sessions I've seen. To be honest, I think most young ladies attending only cared about this one — and the young men too, mind you, but those tried to pretend they did not. Life, wealth, fortune... they all paled next to this line."

"Do share."

His pointer finger follows the line stretching across your hand directly under the fingers. "It is called the love line," Lance reveals. "And yours is unlike any I've seen before."

(...)

The entire pieces are available on Patreon!

Part One — Hadrian, Alessa, Alain, Ysabella

Part Two — The Pirate King, Neia, Lance, Rafael

#Alessa #Alain #Lance #Neia #patreon #The Golden Rose #I know valentine's day has gone but...#xD

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just-another-author-i-guess · 2 years ago

Note

Judd's childhood headcanons?

You betcha 🤭

Tags: idk like mentions of violence and such, Judd being a pyromaniac from a very young age, dead bugs?

Author's note: if we don’t get a baby judd episode in the new season I will riot (,:

Judd childhood hc's

Word count: 1,2K

Both of his parents were absolutely over the moon when he was born

Imagine being an only child in the Birch household, like ngl that sounds pretty sweet

He had their attention aaalll to himself, and he thoroughly enjoyed it

He was quite an active child too, not like hyper but always doing something he was definitely not supposed to do, so he needed either one of his parents to watch him constantly anyways

I feel like he was a pretty “normal” child until Leah was born, sure he was a bit harder to watch than average 2-year-olds but it wasn’t to like a concerning degree or anything

That was until Leah was born

Suddenly having to deal with a new sister, unleashed little monster-gremlin Judd

Not even like five minutes after she was born, when he got to see her in the hospital, did he call her ugly and bald

He probably had an identity crisis when his dad told him he looked like that too

Anyways, Elliot was really empathic towards him, even though he was definitely becoming a bit of a spoiled brat

Like, he sat him down and was like “I know it’s hard for you to get a new sister, but think about how much she’s going to look up to you, blah blah..”

Judd did not listen

So for the next few years, his mission became causing as much trouble for everyone around him as possible and then finding a way to blame it on Leah

Obviously, no one believed that an infant thrashed the house and set fire to a bunch of ants in the backyard

(It was hard to believe toddler Judd even managed to do it lmfao)

That’s another thing, like he wouldn’t hurt big animals, like cats, dogs, raccoons, ect cause he likes those

But he’s definitely responsible for the bug population in town drastically decreasing lol

He would be that type of little kid who burns ants, crushes snails and squeezes bugs to death

I was reading IT right, and patrick apparently has a whole pencil case filled with dead flies AND WHY IS THAT SO JUDD

I could see him bringing that into kindergarten, and when it’s art time he pulls it out and shows the teacher’s kinda proudly and they’re all like 😧✋

This was how he ended in therapy, too

Diane getting a call like “Yeah, uh, your son has a pencil case full of dead bugs and he’s scaring everyone pls come pick him up”

She wasn’t even mad, bc if you’ve seen my other headcannons, yk it would just be even more confirmation that Judd definitely inherited a lot of things from her

He was definitely a very stab-happy kid too

I’m talking deliberately sharpening his pencils to a point and using them as weapons

I can see him having a slingshot too, he would sit somewhere his dad couldn’t see and just shoot rocks at him

Poor Elliot, Judd’s abuse and gremlin behaviours definitely affected him the most

Diane could actually get angry so Judd didn’t dare mess too much with her, and Leah was just a baby so her reactions were usually pretty boring

She didn’t even care when Judd showed her the dead flies smh 🫤

So Elliot was the only good target

Judd was very, very annoyed though, at how he never really got angry, like he’d always just praise Judd for his creativity

If he’s too mean to his dad, Diane will also get mad at him lol

So it’s about finding a balance yk

But back to the therapy thing

I don’t really think Judd got diagnosed with anything, besides being a creepy ass kid

If being creepy is a mental illness, count me in too idc

But like, there’s nothing inherently wrong with him, he just really enjoys causing trouble

So the only thing the therapist recommended was stricter parenting

As both him and Leah got older, his plans of getting rid of her became more thought out as well

There’s that one scene where Nick is a newborn and Judd tries to set fire to Leah’s hair

That is definitely a recurring thing, like he realised if he truly wanted to get rid of Leah he’d have to try something,,, more effective than leaving her random places and trying to get his parents to hate her

So setting her hair on fire seemed like a good idea

I don’t think he grasped the idea that she could actually die, but like if her hair burned off she would be ugly and their parents wouldn’t like her anymore yk? Something like that

Where did a six year old get lighters?? I would like to fucking know

This was also around the time he started to realise, that maybe murder and thrashing the house all the time was not a good idea

Diane probably had a talking to him, and was like “Now you’ve got a new brother, you can’t be trying to set his crib on fire or anything, you’re too old for that now”

That made him switch out his lighter for scissors and that was when is Chucky arc properly started

He cut a b i g chunk of Leah’s hair off while she slept, he cut up a lot of his dad’s clothes and tried to stab multiple of his teachers

Like, one of his teachers would go on to have Leah and Nick later, and would always tell them the story of how much of a menace Judd was and show them their scissor scars

Judd was definitely very spoiled too, he used to act kinda like Nick when he was younger

Little man’s thought he was king of the kindergarten fr

Probably carried over into his first years at school too, like 1st to 5th grade Judd was not much different

Omg,, he was a biter too

Like I can see Diane getting mad at him and hoisting him up by his shirt or something, to carry him to his room, but he would just try to bite her the whole time

The same with his teachers, you touch him, you get bitten

I can see him getting into a lot of fights with other boys at school too, either for making fun of him or his dad

Elliot came to pick him up one day and was like singing a little goofy song or whatever, and the other kids wouldn’t stop making fun of him

(Aw, that’s so cute, little Judd secretly defending his dad’s honour at school)

Bc he definitely wouldn’t tell his parents the real reason he got into a fight

Also, if anyone was bullying Leah in the schoolyard, Judd would straight up just spawn

His spidey senses was tingling fr

But he wouldn’t (And still won’t) hesitate to knock anyone who’s mean to his sister the fuck out

I feel like he’d also secretly slip something delicious he got in his lunchbox into Leah’s

Like, if she had a bad day at school and Judd so happened to have a candy bar (probably stolen lets be honest) He would make it suddenly appear in Leah’s lunch box and act all oblivious about it

That’s another thing, Judd was straight up just born w/o a moral compass

Even as a kid, he didn’t really see stealing, violence, ect as wrong

Well it all depends who he’s stealing from or beating up or whatever

But yk, Diane was (and is probably still) like that lol

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

(Lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

#judd birch #big mouth #judd birch x reader #headcannons #big mouth x reader

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