#Those tears are of a woman scarred and scared of what she thinks was a supernatural experience

[yourbasicqueerie]

yall…jen probaby still thinks the road is real, shes unaware of Agatha's death, of Wiccans real power and that the deaths of Lilia and Alice were actually caused by a kid she demmed pure, not by chance.

[barcaatthemoon]

brave || lucy bronze x reader ||

lucy must put on a brave face when you go down during a game.

lucy could count on one hand the amount of times that she had ever been truly terrified. the fear that she felt whenever you went down was the greatest by far. it was almost like a sick joke. lucy didn't have time to be bitter about it, not when you obviously needed her to be there for you more. and so, lucy tried her best to swallow it all back to kneel next to you.

"hey bird, that was a nasty hit you took," lucy said. up close, it was so much worse. lucy had seen you go down, and momentarily had just frozen on the opposite side of the field. standing next to you, there was so much blood. that was nothing compared to the dazed look in your eyes.

"lucy, it hurts," you whined. lucy knew that you were about to start crying. she was certain the only reason you weren't yet were all of the younger players on the field. the one who had knocked into you was recently brought up from a youth team, and you didn't want to scar her.

"it's okay. i've got you. shh, just breathe for me," lucy instructed you. the medics came over and took you straight off of the field. lucy was subbed off as well, a decision that sarina made without second thought.

"keep a close eye on her for all of us," millie told your wife. lucy nodded and gave millie a quick hug as the woman went on for lucy. there hadn't been an official sub for lucy, but everybody knew that millie could handle it for a bit. there weren't that many minutes left in the game, and england managed to pull ahead early on.

"look at me bird." lucy gently grabbed onto your chin, forcing you to look up at her. "that's gonna leave a nasty cut, but i think i can get over it for a while."

"what a saint," you huffed. lucy smiled, glad that you could still joke with her. she knew that it was just an expression, but she was glad that the humor hadn't been knocked out of you. lucy could still remember whenever you had gotten a concussion back in college so bad that your career had almost ended. "are you also going to nurse me back to health?"

"of course i am. i'm not letting you out of my sight," lucy mumbled as she pulled you into a hug. lucy was incredibly gentle with you in a way that you knew meant she was terrified. "how are you feeling, really?"

"well, my head hurts like a bitch, but i am okay. i would be a bit better if you didn't look like you'd just seen a ghost. i got up lucy, i walked off of the field. it's not like last time," you told her. lucy swallowed back some tears. the memories of your injury still haunted her. it hadn't been all bad though. lucy had admitted her feelings for you that night at the hospital, even if she thought you were in a coma when you weren't. "you could have stayed and played on."

"nah, someone's got to give bright those pity minutes. she likes riling up the young ones when she's bored." lucy laughed a little, but you could still hear the tears behind it. lucy didn't let go of you until she was certain that she wouldn't just burst into tears. you laid back until the doctor came back to finish up your concussion tests.

you knew that you were concussed, it was just a question of how badly. your facial cut was superficial and didn't need stitches, which you were grateful for. lucy held your hand tightly as it was bandaged up before you went back to the locker room to wash up. the game had ended by the time you were finished, but the team was all seemingly waiting to see how you were. the fact that you hadn't been rushed off to the hospital was a good sign.

"you know, you just about gave bronzey here a heart attack," mary said as she slung her arm around your shoulders. she tried to pull you away from lucy, who did not loosen her grip on you one bit. "scared the rest of us pretty bad too."

"gotta keep you on your toes. as for lucy, she was very brave. kept a calm head with me through my tests." lucy blushed at your praise, but didn't argue.

"what's the verdict?" keira asked. you could see her, georgia, and leah practically shaking with anticipation.

"i'll be out for at least a month, maybe two. i am really sorry guys, i was hoping to see this through, but it's just the luck of the draw," you told them. almost immediately, you felt their bodies crash into yours. lucy was trapped in the hug as well, but you could tell from the way that her body sagged into it that she needed it.

"you can be our mascot. every time that we score, we'll do it for you," georgia promised. you ruffled the shorter woman's hair a bit before you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. the team seemed to be in complete agreement with dedicating the whole tournament to you, which you knew meant trouble for the other teams.

[mayasaurusss]

vampire!Charlotte who feels bad for needing to feed off the reader :(( if rqs are open of course - 🐇

Charlotte who feels bad when she has to drink from you :(

She has been in need to feed from your blood since she got bit by a disease infected bat.

Food isn't satiating her, only meat can come close to scratching that itch that she feels, but it isn't enough.

When she is watching an horror movie with you and see one of the characters getting murdered, blood spilling everywhere, she feels the dark need to sink her theet into your throath.

She gets scared of herself, of her thoughts, so she purposefully chooses to get away from you. She doesn't want to hurt you, after all.

But after you relentlessly try to see her, to know if she's okay, she caves in.

She hasn't eaten in weeks, months maybe. She is so, so hungry.

When you ask her if maybe the bat is responsible, if maybe she's one of those creatures that roam in the night, the though makes her almost lose it.

She is TERRIFIED when you tell her to bit you, thinking that you have lost your fucking mind, but the thought is interesting.

She has been dying to sink her teeth into something. And your troath seems sooo inviting.

Something stops her. She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to hurt you. She'd rather die than hurt you.

But when you climb in her lap, move your head so that your neck is exposed to her, makes it so hard for her to contain herself.

She is still unsure, moving her head back and almost manhandling you off of her lap, but when you take her head and press your nose on your neck, her body reacts before her mind can.

She bites. Hard. Her fangs sink in your flesh, tearing it apart.

Blood oozes from you, so red and exquisite.

The sight makes her famished. She latches on your wound, drinking until the blood stops.

Her mouth is covered in blood, tainting her lips and theet, as well as your skin and clothes.

Her belly is finally full, a feeling of satisfaction filling her chest. But amidst that, there is also guilt.

She pulls back, looking at your face. Your cheeks are coloured in a sick shade, eyes unfocused, lips parting.

She runs downstairs to get you as much water and sugar as possible, feeding you old cookies she found in her pantry.

Charlotte who, from then on, feeds from you with the utmost care.

She cleans the patch of skin she's about to take a sip from, caring for you in such a loving way it makes your heart ache.

She bites you with care, her fangs tearing gently at your flesh.

Her tongue catches the droplets of blood that fall from you. From your collar bone to the wound of your neck, she licks the blood clean, coming up to suck on the scar she caused.

Lottie who, after feeding from you, see how her teeth are becoming puncture scars on your neck. Who becomes so very sad that you have to comfort her for what she has become :"(

Charlotte who actively stops feeding from you on fear of hurting you. Who starts to feed on strangers, leaving them on the side of the street while they try to understand what just happened.

Lottie who whines like a puppy when you find her out, scolding her for feeding off of strangers. Who is secretly so glad you let her drink from you, because your blood is the sweetest thing she bad ever drank.

Lottie which gets a bit flustered when she drinks from you. Watches as a rivulet of blood falls down your collarbone to your chest, making that cold blood of hers pump in her veins.

Lottie who gets in a blood craze when she drinks from you during sex. She's knuckles deep in your slit, moaning and whimpering and when she bites from you, just as you're about to come, and the action makes you fall apart under her.

Your blood has some how become sweeter, mixed with your scent and taste, and it makes her go feral. Lottie who drinks from you as you're riding your high like she's a starved woman. You feel lips, theet, tongue all over your neck.

Lottie who gets incredibly aroused when you expose your neck to tease her. She's so down bad for you that she has to physically restrain herself from jumping on you.

Lottie who, even if she became a vampire, can lay in the sun.

Her favorite moment of her day is waking up, the sun rays shining on her naked chest, and finding you laying near her on the bed, sleeping soundly.

Lottie who kisses your neck, lapping at the still fresh wound. Your skin smells of the sun, and it's so sweet and lovely it makes her heart feel fuzzy :'). Reminds her of how lucky she is to have you.

Lottie who places a kiss on your wounds, lips trailing up your neck and jaw to your lips, who kisses you with care and love.

"Good morning, beautiful" Lottie who, even afree becoming a blood seeking monster that roams the dead of night, is still as romantic as ever.

[longjohnsilverfish]

Fancy Boy & Fire Girl

[NSFW/18+] Period Sex/Period Eating

A/N: Again, characters are in their Origin outfits! This time, I’ll try to add a little more spice!! 😚😚 If this isn’t your roll, I get it!

^_______________________________________^

“Ooh. Godsdamnit…”

Karlach groaned in a pitched whine, strong arms curling around her well-defined mid-section, taut and tight. No matter her position, no matter her skin soaking the sun or melting against the cold bedsheets, no matter the way her tail curl around her ankle and squeeze in sync with her heart—the punching pain downwards in her womb was aching and aggravating in quivering shakes that ripped her walls red.

Gods. I can’t…! I can’t, it hurts so much.

Ever since Karlach had began to feast more regularly, it was like her body was finally healing after the ten years of torture Zariel had made her endure and enjoy. Now, her body was beginning her monthly cycle once more. It was more surprising for Karlach—she was surprised her body wasn’t fucked beyond belief enough to still even be fertile, let alone rinse itself in scarlet and saffron.

It hadn’t been a day, and Karlach was locked in her room. She knew that the bed was soaked in blood—as if the feeling of blood dripping from her tightened legs didn’t tell her. She’s have to repay a bed for the tavern, destroy the mattress, burn it most like.

But she couldn’t do that now; not when she was aching and forcing choked sobs back into her heart to not scare her friends. She couldn’t tell them—couldn’t let them see her have an accident and in pain. 

Well, maybe Halsin. Definitely not Lae’zel, she doesn’t get those I don’t think. Shadowheart…yeah, Shadowheart. Not Gale, not Wyll, and not…not Astarion.

Hormones were already heightened with the tiefling woman—a thing she was proud of and wore on her sleeve. But, the thought of her beloved seeing her like this; dirty, in pain, and leaking on herself. The look he’d give, the disgust. The way his lip would curve up, nose flare from her enflamed smell, eyes narrow and darken.

“No…”, Karlach whimpered, amber eyes welling with tears thick as raindrops and hot as lava. “Not him…”

Yes, him, girl. You know how he is.

“Gods, he is. He is…”

Clean and pristine; the man is a god in mortal form. 

“M-mhm.” Karlach shut her eyes, biting her lower lip as she nodded her head.

Perfect hair, perfect skin, those eyes, those hands. 

“Yeah. Yeah.”

And look at you. 

Tears fell from the red woman’s closed eyes, her hands tight around her naked hot body. Hands clawing at her lower back, pinching tatted scarred skin.

Horn missing, fucked-up roughed skin. Scarred, melted, burned—ten years all spelled across your flesh in calloused, thick worms of platted blemishes.

“H-he loves me. He-he said…”, Karlach cried in soft huffs of air. “Said…s-said I was his love.”

Please, Karlach. Would he say that now, when you’re an emotional mess? 

“No…” Karlach sobbed into the side of the sheets, her wails now no longer hidden in her throat—now and horrid screeching and pain and hormones.

It was only for a few moments—the pain, the horror, the shame, the fear all in one singular roar of anguish and despair that echoed into the room. The floorboards shaking, the door rattling, the bed frame creaking from the sheet volume of Karlach’s sadness.

And yet, it was a few moments aired at just the right time.

It was no longer than half a minute, when Karlach hiccuped her sobs quiet in a fast capture of her mouth as a series of rapid knocks came to the door.

“Karlach! What’s happening?”

No!

“G-goawayastarion!”, Karlach spoke quickly before covering her mouth as she hissed in pain, her womanhood tightening and unclenching rapidly. She was starting to leak again, and it was going to hurt much more now that she was incensed.

“I’m coming in!” Small clicks and snaps followed after the words.

Karlach jumped up, her haunches aching and legs unsteady as she stepped over fallen pillows and her discarded clothing. Her feet felt heavy, her breasts heaved and sagged heavier than before with each step Karlach took to the wooden door.

It took three strides, but Karlach soon had her hand on the door, pulling back with all her might—blood dribble from her blood-soaked cunt be godsdamned.

“No!”, Karlach roared, tears streaking down her face. “Please, please just—woah!”

The door swung opened with an urgent force, throwing the tiefling back into the room, sending her stumbling upon the wooden floor in a loud thunk.

Godsdamnit! I forgot this door was different! Fuck fuck fuck! 

“Get out! Get out!” Her back fell upon the edge of the blood-soaked bed, now screaming at Astarion with puffy eyes and red freckled cheeks from tears and sorrow. So much water prevented her sight from seeing him, only white splotches connected to purple and black. Karlach’s arms clutched to hide her herself pitifully, throwing a pillow at the vampire in anger. 

“G-get out…”, she sobbed, looking away to the ground with shut eyes. “Please, Astarion.”

The door shut, a click signaling locking.

Then soft steps approached Karlach. 

One. 

Two. 

Creaks of a person crouching were loud in Karlach’s sharp ears. The feeling of another sat by her side.

A hand slowly ushered Karlach up, still sobbing—though softly now, not as hard as she released two minutes before. 

“Astah…Astar-hic-rian…”

“Hush hush, my darling red love,” Astarion cooed softly, hands running up her muscular arms as he led her upon the bed.

“I-I made a mess—.”

“Now now, what did I say? Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” 

Karlach slowly opened her wet eyes, sniffling as she was laid down upon the bed, the bloody sheets pull down to be beneath her buttox and legs. Just as the woman sat, did her belly begin to heave once more, ripping and painful groan from her.

“Grr!”, she snarled. “It hurts!”

“Shh, it’s okay. Just let it pass.”, Astarion cooed, kissing her broken horn base as his hand rubbing her back. “What can I do?”

“I’m covered in blood—.”

“I’m a vampire, if you forgot.”

“Period blood. It’s dirty, and—and hot. And sticky..a-and, a-and...!”

“Shh.” A soft cooling hard came to Karlach’s face, turning her head to the man above her. “No crying now.”

Astarion stared down, and not a hair out of place. A soft smile on his face, not a façade nor dream; and if it was, Karlch would kill the person who out took her out.

“I-I’m disgusting…” Karlch stared up, tears dried and breath strained—trying not to sob once more. “I can’t control it.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just nature.” 

The pale elf kissed Karlach’s head gently. A swirl of joy filled her temple, allowing. The tiefling woman to return the small smile Astarion gave. Her heart raced, her blood quickened—and not the one leaking from her like water from a pipe.

“Was that why you were crying? Because you had an accident, darling?”, Astarion asked softly. 

“K-kinda,” Karlach admitted quietly, turning her gaze downwards. “I just…”

“Just?”

Karlach felt his eyes on her narrow. A flush washed over her cheek.

“You’re always put together.” Karlach spoke with a nervousness in her voice, a fear in her chest that clawed to stay hidden. 

And yet, the feeling of Astarion’s hand on her back let her free.

“You’re perfect,”Karlach said, staring up to her vampiric lover. “You look fucking great, and act great, you are great. And…shit, look at me, Star.” 

Karlach motioned to her naked body, through hissing pain of blood clots slipping from her cunt in an uncomfortable feeling.

“I look like a damn imp fucked six ways to Sunday. On steroids. Without wings.” A tired laugh left the woman. “I wonder how we are…we, with me looking like this.”

“Karlach…”

Karlach looked into Astarion’s deep gaze, seeing a look of comfort in his ruby eyes.

“You are a glory to behold. A goddess I have forever, as you have me.” He grinned with admiration, now both hands up to cup her face. “You worry for nothing, my fiery feminine fury.”

His gaze looked down to Karlach’s legs, and Karlach followed to her inner thighs—caked with blood, mostly wet and somewhat dry. 

“You seem to forget, that the most deprave things catch my eye.”, Astarion purred, turning Karlach’s head back to him. 

“Would you like to be cleaned, or have me clean you?”

Karlach furrowed her brow for a moment. “I don’t understand.”

The elf man laughed, slowly climbing onto the bed himself. His weight shifted the bed, and Karlach watched in a rising second flush as her vampiric Casanova slowly moved between Karlach’s legs, his arms holding her legs gently by the knees.

“Do you want to be cleaned…”, Astarion began. “Or…”

His kissed her right knee, smiling as he stared at her with a mischievous side eye that made the woman’s eyes widened in his unsaid words. Her nails grazed sensually, and Karlach’s clit slowly hardened.

“Would you want me to clean you?”

“Yes.”

Astarion laughed, his teeth grazing Karlach’s knee from the side. Sharp, stinging, but no blood drawn. He’s teasing me, the fancy prink.

“Use your words.”

Utter bastard. Fuck yes.

“The—ah—the second one.”, Karlach whimpered, feeling a slimy cold tongue trace down her inner leg. Her cries managed to be kept at bay, as the red woman felt Astarion’s tongue drag itself deeper into her wet, red pool.

Slower. 

And closer.

Until the feeling of the tip of Astarion’s tongue licking up a dribble of blood all but made Karlach moan out. It was quick, darting out and up to gather the drop wholly and completely. The tiefling barbarian watched as Astarion closed his eyes, growling to himself as he swallowed.

One moment.

Two moments.

Three. 

Four.

“Pardon my Elvish, but give me fucking more.”

Karlach sighed in pleasure, the words shooting straight from her brain to her cunt, and like a signal, squirted more upon the bed, now a river of rich ruby red dribbled down her soft lips, catching upon each curling soft hair of her womanhood—darkening and staining. Dripping and drooling down Karlach’s curving thighs, the blood pooled on the bloody sheet, gathering like a divine wine too great for even a god to drink.

“My my, already? This was just a speckle I tasted.” Astarion grinned, licking his lips, his eyes darkening with bloodlust. “But you do taste so sweet. With such a good appetizer…” 

Two hands gripped the flanks of Karlach as animalistically as a wolf did bitch in heat. Karlach eeped in surprise, before her legs were spread even farther than before—now on the edge of the bed. 

“I want the whole feast.”

Karlach gasped as Astarion leaned into her womanhood, hotter than a dragon’s own fire and radiating even brighter than Amaunator on a summer’s day. His quick tongue plunged itself into her hungrily, licking her large folds first. 

Each tongue lap up across the soft dark curls was odd, but it made Karlach giddy. Her heart heaved at a rapid pace. The tip of Astarion’s tongue curled each hair in his sharp mouth, teasing and jeering as he devoured the thicket of Karlach clean from any redness. Once finished with the right side, the vampire moved to the left. Despite being the same, Karlach felt her beautiful beau was treating each equally, but differently.

With the right, he was rabid, playful, and coy—messing with his food. Now, he was finishing a job he was dedicated to, lapping at your blood dripped cunt, his payment his meal and reward for due diligence in caring for Karlach. 

It was addictive, and just about twenty seconds in—Karlach felt her body leap from the bed.

“Woah!”

Karlach was on her neck, her body entirely in the air and legs pushed up to her hairline. Looking up in surprise and shock, she saw Astarion—mouth covered in blood and eyes full of surprise.

“Astarion! How did you do that?”

With the outer folds clean, Astarion adjusted his hands to Karlach’s womanhood, holding the lips apart with his thumbs. 

“No clue, darling.”, he heaved. 

Must’ve taken a bit from him.

“Well, feast, leech”, Karlach purred with a smile—her bosom how glowing a light purple hue amidst her red heat. “You’ve earned it.”

A watering mouth licked all around the thighs of the red tiefling. Upwards and downwards, in each crease of her skin and each dry drop of blood left upon her legs. Each taste, Astarion grunted in pleasure. 

And with each grunt, Karlach felt her hole tighten and spurt more blood up and down her cunt, dripping down her curls and down her legs. If this really as a dream, Karlach could live here forever.

Finally, teeth brushing against Karlach’s clit woke her from her hypnosis. It prodded her, poked her clit like a child would something new with a stick. With Astarion’s tongue, he began to target Karlach’s clit—several circles swirling around it, free fingers digging into her thighs to stabilize. 

All the while, Karlach cried out to the gods above. Each swish was a knot in her stomach growing tighter, more blood coming from her hole, and more bursts of pleasures erupting in huffs of hot air and succulent moans erupting from the strong woman.

“Gods-ah-darling! You taste so-agh-divine!”

“Ooh! Oh yes! Keep going!” Karlach cried out. “Take me! Take me!” 

Astarion quickens up the pace, his tongue licking the blood, him sucking on Karlach’s clit. A howl of pleasure left the tiefling woman, and her tail swished back and forth in a rapid pattern, curling around the elf’s arm for a sense of grounding. However Astarion pulled his arm away , before grabbing the tip and using it to tribble against Karlach’s clit. 

“Oh! No, not my tail—Astarion—!”

It rapid movements, Karlach felt her lover rub her cunt and clit in a circular motion. With each drip, Astarion suckled like a babe on a mother’s tit—more and more, deeper and harder, until eventually Astarion was suckling straight from Karlach’s hole.

From what the tiefling could see from below, Astarion was in heaven. His nose down was stained with red, tongue delving into her hole like a snake burrowing to his den. The tip flicking the walls, digging each blood clot out—heavy and gooey—before swallowing it down in orgasmic pleasure and repeating the cycle once more.

“Mgh. ‘Star. Close. ‘m close!”, cried Karlach, gridding her hips against the maw of Astarion.

The vampire grinned, and suckled as if his life depended on it. Each second was tightening the knot in Karlach’s stomach more and more. And as she grinded at the right moment, Astarion suckling just hard enough, it was all coming down in a single move.

“AHHHHHHNG! ASTARIONNN, FUCKK!”

Karlach’s thighs squeezed the elf’s head between her lips, crushing him in her orgasmic juices and flowing blood. Her walls crashing and thrashing around his flaccid wild tongue, and all was a wash of white hot pleasure as Karlach cried in happiness. 

So much so, the tiefling barely noticed the hot shots of semen her back from Astarion manhood peeking from his open fly.

After a few moments, the woman opened her legs. Astarion gave a moan of pleasure, his hair a mess and eyes looking lovestruck. He looked at her, his lips and chin covered in blood, and licking his one last time lazily over the entire womanhood of Karlach.

“Delicious, you pup.”

He licks his lips and he wipes the blood off his mouth, still stained with red.

“Thank you, for the feast.”

“Thank you…for making me feel better.”

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HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDDDD!!

[athenamikaelson]

War of Scars - A Luke Castellan Story

PART 1

Thunder Daddy is Real?

Word Count- 3.7k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, gore, fighting, some mature content 

“What the actual fuck is a half-blood?” 

I scream to Keiko as she grips the steering wheel of the stolen Passat we were now flooring down the vacant back road of New York. Keiko’s short, white-bleached hair stuck up as if she’d just been electrocuted, and a look of concern in her dark eyes as she glanced between both front-view mirrors. I tried to figure out what she was so worried about as I glanced through my passenger seat mirror but was only met with the darkening road. The red cast from the taillights shone a light on the passing forest and trees. The branches from the trees cast shadows over the backroad, a small shiver goes through my back as I imagine that they look like limbs and arms reaching for our car as we drive away. As if begging us not to drive any further. I want to yell to them that I don’t want to go any further either, that I want to go back home. Home to my mother and father, a mother and father that no longer want me I remind myself, and home to my brothers who probably don’t even know I’ve left. 

“A half-blood is what you are Y/N.” 

Keiko’s words snap my attention back into the car as I turn to her with an annoyed look. I can feel the tips of my nails scratching against the skin of my palms, reading to break the already calloused skin. A nasty habit I picked up a few years ago.

“Ya, that’s what everyone keeps telling me! But that doesn’t answer what the fuck it is!” I can feel the breaking of skin as I dig my nails deeper, trying to ground my feelings and stop another outburst from happening. 

“Do you remember all those stories I used to tell you about the Greek Gods and myths?”

Keiko’s eyes briefly meet mine for the first time since I watched her steal this car over 3 hours ago. I think over what she said. The stories about the woman who the goddess Athena turned into a snake lady, and the man who stole fire from the Gods just to give to humans come to mind. I slowly nod my head at her, hoping that this isn’t some psychotic break she’s having because I’m on the verge of having my own right now and this car is already tiny as fuck. Two people freaking the fuck out would not be a good idea. 

I watch as Keiko’s chest rises and falls deeply, her ACDC shirt that she had stolen from a lost and found at school stretches at the movement. 

“All those stories I told you, about the Gods, Zeus, Posideon, Hades, and all the others,” She turns back to look at me, “they’re all true. And one of them is your biological parent,” Her face scrunches up as she goes back to look at the road, “well technically not biological per se since gods don’t have DNA.” 

She goes to continue speaking but stops once I let out a laugh that comes deep from the back of my throat. I watch with scrunched eyes as she stares at me in slight worry I hunch over gripping my stomach as more laughter rises out of my mouth.

“Are you ok?”

Keiko’s worried voice comes from beside me and I sit up and wipe stray tears from my eyes. 

“Am I alright? I should be the one asking you that question, you’re the one saying that the almighty thunder daddy Zeus is real, and then saying that one of his buddies is my parent.”

Keiko’s face scrunches up in disgust and she casts a glance to the star-covered sky for some reason.

“You really shouldn’t talk like that, the Gods don’t like to be disrespected.”

Her worried expression halts my jokes as I stare at the now serious face in front of mine. Keiko has never been the one in this friendship to care about following the rules or being scared of anything, she’s the fearless one. So why the hell does she look terrified at the talk of a bunch of fictional deities?

“Ok, Kio the joke was funny for the first five minutes but I want the truth now. Why did my parents kick me out after saying I’m not theirs and that you’d know what to do?” 

I try to cover up the slight break in my voice at the mention of my parents, or adopted parents I guess, telling me that after 18 years I wasn’t theirs. Flashes of my caring mother holding me when I was a child telling me that I was a gift to her, that she would never let anything happen to me. Was all of that some sick lie?

“Y/N listen to me,” Keiko catches my attention, “I’m not lying to you. Your mother or father is a god. A Greek god. Which makes you a half-blood, half mortal half god. And because of this, it means being out here in the mortal world is going to get you killed. I was sent here, as your satyr to protect you until the time came where I’d take you to camp. I’m not sure why it’s taken this long for the monsters to catch up to you, most of the time half-bloods are brought to camp around 12. But you being 18 brings up some questions. I think your parent is a smaller god that’s why there hasn't been much focus on you.” 

I can feel my mouth start to dry up from the air entering my now-opened mouth. I’ve been staring at Keiko with wide eyes the entire time she's been going on about gods and death and shit. She must have noticed my lack of response because she stopped talking and looked at me. Her serious expression brings a wave of anger through my system which is the final breaking point for the palms as my nails break skin and a warm liquid coats my nails. 

“Stop the car.” 

Three words are all I say to her as I unbuckle my seat belt.

“What?”

I turn to Keiko, my teeth grinding against one another.

“Stop the goddamn car. I’m done being lied to. My parents have lied to me my entire life and now my so-called best friend is making fun of my shitty life with made-up fairytales. So stop the fucking car or I’ll jump out myself.” 

“I’m not stopping, we can’t if we want to make it to camp as soon as possible. And we’re going,” Keiko glances at the speedometer, “64 miles per hour. If you jump out of the car now you’ll die.” 

I look out of the forest and think of all that has happened in the past 12 hours. 

“It’s not like I have anything to lose. I’d rather be mangled and dead than sit in this car with you, driving to god knows where, while you tell me a bunch of lies.”

I hear a deep sigh come from Keiko and wait a moment to hear whatever bullshit she’s about to start spewing at me but it never comes. Instead, I feel the car start to accelerate, and a few words in an unknown language spill from her mouth. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” 

Keiko’s voice comes out harsh and deadly as I watch her grip the worn steering wheel. Her frantic gaze moves from the back of us to the dark road ahead. 

“I’m not putting my seatbelt on, just stop the car already.” 

I try to argue back at her but she just lets out a huff of air and reaches over the center console of the car, grabs my seatbelt, and snaps it back into place. I watch her with wide eyes at the fucking audacity of the bitch. I go to yell at her but she raises a single finger at me, just like a mother who’s had enough of her child talking would. 

“We’re being followed.”

Her dark eyes move frantically all over the place as if she sees something I don’t. Ok, maybe she is losing her mind. Fuck now I feel like an asshole. 

“Listen Keiko maybe we should just take some deep breaths and talk this through. Cause it seems like right now some of us are going a bit crazy. And by some of us, I don’t mean me.”

I lightly raise a finger and point at her. I go to laugh at my joke but the car jolts forward as if we’d just got rear-ended.

“What the-”

“It’s right there shit!” 

Keiko slams her leg onto the gas pedal but it doesn’t seem to do much help as another hit comes from behind us. My long legs bang against the dash of the car as I look behind us trying to figure out what asshat doesn’t know how to drive, but I freeze when I see nothing there. No headlights, no cars, nothing. We’re the only ones on the road. 

“There you see it! You see I’m not lying! I can’t tell what creature it is but it’s big and has wings so that crosses out giants, thankfully.” 

Kieko glances between the front and me and her face falls once she reads my features.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? There is nothing there.”

I turn to the back of the car and point to the vacant road behind us. Keiko turns around and her eyebrows raise.

“No, it was right there.” 

But as she turns back around to face the front, I jump from the loud yelp that escapes her lips as she appears to see something before us on the road. Something I can’t seem to see. What I don’t see coming either is the tight right turn Keiko makes to miss the invisible “creature.” I grasped onto the passenger side door and turned wide-eyed to her. About to yell at her when the driver’s side of the car is lifted and I feel my heart fall to my ass as I watch the trees that were once reaching and calling for me, get their wish as the car is thrown into the woods. 

“Y/N, come wake up, Y/N!” 

I hear muffled voices come from above me as cold winds envelop me. I must be in heaven, God must be calling for me. I try to open my eyes but the overwhelming pressure in my head urges me to keep them closed for just five more minutes. I’m about to give in to the thought when a sharp pressure hits the side of my cheek, shocking me awake.

I abruptly sit up but quickly regret it when a pounding pain comes from every part of my body. My eyes can’t seem to register my dark surroundings either as more pain enters my frontal lobe. 

“I’m sorry I did that but I need you to get up, I don’t know where the chimera is, but I can feel it’s close.” 

Kieko, that’s Kieko. My brain tries to get me to register her words but the throbbing in my head is halting any thought process from going on. Another wave of red pain goes through my body as I feel an arm wrap itself around my waist and lift me.

“Do you think you can walk?”

A voice asks me. No, not a voice, Kieko’s voice. Kieko is talking to me. I try to shake my head as if to fight away the overwhelming urge to close my eyes and lay down and sleep for the foreseen future. 

“Get up and walk”. 

A voice comes into my head. Why does my subconscious sound so manly and bossy? But I listen to it as I feel my feet try to move one after the other. The overwhelming pressure coming from my entire body though makes it feel as if I’m dragging two cinderblocks on each leg. 

“OK, good. We’re about a mile from camp I think if I got my constellations correct.” 

I finally can get my eyes open as I stare at Kieko beside me. If I wasn’t feeling like absolute dogshit right now I’d laugh at the image of her short body leaning awkwardly to the side trying to carry my taller one. I try to lean off of her slightly to give her help but her grip tightens on me.

“Don’t, you got banged up pretty hard in the accident. I thought I had lost you for a moment there, but it was my mistake for thinking you’d ever let death take you this young or without your approval.”

Kieko lets out a small laugh which quickly turns into a cough as she winces in pain.

“Are you hurt?”

My voice comes out strained and rough, like an old woman who’s been smoking since she was 13 years old. Kieko just shakes her head and picks up the pace of her walking. 

“Just a few scratches, nothing as bad as you. We need to move faster though I can sense the chimera getting closer. The smell of your blood is making it easier for it to track us.”

My face scrunches up at the words. I want to argue to her that there’s no creature out there hunting us and that she is just having a psychotic break but once I feel the cold metallic-smelling liquid move down my face as if it was caressing it, I stay quiet. 

We continue to walk for what seems like hours, or well Kieko walks and I latch on to her and get dragged. I don’t know where the hell she’s going but I have no other choice but to go with her. I lurch forward as Kieko abruptly stops. Her heading whipped around us like a mad woman. 

“Did you hear that?” 

She whispers into my ear. I shake my head in response. And we stand there for a moment before she tightens her hold on me and starts to walk again. Her hand around my waist quickly detaches and I can only watch in what seems like slow motion as she is thrown against a neighboring tree. A sickening crack comes from her body as I watch it fall to the ground. I go to run to her a roar turns my attention to behind me. I can feel my heart beat erratically as I slowly turn to the monstrous being behind me. With a body that must stand above 10 feet tall, a lion stands before me. Wait. No. Not a lion. Defiantly not a lion. 

Acidic bile starts to make its way up my throat as my eyes meet the red beady eyes of a goat, a goat that is protruding from the lion's back. A hissing sound catches my attention as I slowly turn my gaze to the python that has replaced the lion goat’s tail. 

As I stare at the creature I want to pass out. Or maybe I’m already asleep and this is some bad nightmare. But as the lion-goat-snake thing takes a step toward me, with its paws that rival the size of my big head I use whatever strength I have left and run. If I can lead it away from Kieko that's all that matters. 

I don’t have to worry about it not following me as I hear the thundering footsteps catch up behind me. I try to dodge tree after tree, jumping over fallen logs, and feel my sneakers imprint into the mud that has started to form from the light downfall of rain that has started to coat myself and the forest. 

I go to turn right, the downpour of the rain falling harder and blocking much of my already shitty vision. But a burst of heat and flames come from behind me hitting the trees to my right. I whip my head around to see smoke coming from the lion-goat-snake thing and curse to myself. Of course, it can breathe fire too. I try to go to my left but a searing pain catches on my back as I drop to the ground. 

I lift myself on my elbows as I watch the monster lift its large paw and lick the red liquid off of its nails as if it were mocking me. Its eyes glint with malice as the goat lets out a strangled noise.

“We’re a gift from Athena.”

A strangled hiss comes from the snake's mouth.

 I go to close my eyes and just accept my fate but stop when my manly subconscious chimes in again. 

“Get up and fight, you’re a warrior. Grab the stick next to you and fight back. Make it bleed. If it can bleed it can be killed.” 

God, when did I become so melodramatic? But I realize manly me is right, if I die this thing will go back for Keiko. The monster continues its prowl toward me as I keep eye contact with it. Hoping it doesn’t see my right hand that has grasped onto the stick by my side. I wait until the lion opens its mouth, probably to light me on fucking fire and that’s when I strike. 

I lift myself onto my knees and lurch forward with the stick in my hand and as the lion opens its ginormous mouth and I see the start of embers begin to light in its throat I stab the stick right down into it. I loud howl of pain comes from the creature as it tries to dislodge the stick that is now protruding from its mouth. I watch for another moment as the goat and the snake move around frantically trying to help their injured creature. But I know if they do succeed in getting that out I’m fucked so I push myself up with a hiss. The overwhelming smell of blood coming from my back, the more I move the harsher the pull and pain. But I'm not letting the ugly motherfucker be my demise. 

I come up from behind the creature, which is now facing away from me with its entire focus on dislodging the stick, and I leap onto its back. The goat and the snake are the only ones to notice my arrival as they start hissing and making whatever strange noise the goat is making. I grab onto the fur of the creature to keep myself upright and I grasp the snake into my hands. It thrashes in my hands, its cool slimy body almost making me drop it as I try to wrap the snake around the goat's throat. I pull in the opposite direction with all my weight as the hissing constricts until I hear the crack of the goat's neck. The strangled snake and the now dead goat have caught the attention of the lion who has finally dislodged the stick and has now noticed me.

The lion roars so deeply that it makes my body shake. I would almost feel bad for killing its friends/body sharers if it wasn’t trying to y’know fucking kill me. The lion stands to its full height and starts to thrash its body as a means to get me off. I quickly grasp the curled horns of the goat as a means of stabilization. But as the thrashing gets harsher I hear a sharp snap as I’m thrown against yet another tree. 

Bark scratches up my already bloody back as I let out a loud wail. The rain from before crashing down all around me thunder shakes the earth and forest and lightning strikes a nearby tree. But my attention is fully on the lion who has now started its attack on me. I can sit there as I lift my hands to protect my face as the lion comes rushing at me. 

I sit there drenched, cold, and bloody waiting for my demise, but nothing comes. I slowly open one eye and flinch as I see the lion staring at me. But it’s not moving. It��s not breathing either. Its once hatred-filled eyes are now glossed over with death. My gaze goes from its haunting eyes to its chest where the goat horn I had cracked off is now lodged into the lion's heart. Red liquid coated my hands as I loosened my grip on the horn and backed away from the dead creature. 

“How did you do that?” 

I thrash my head to the side grabbing the horn a second time in defense. I halt though when I see Keiko holding herself up against a tree. Blood trickles down her whitening skin as she looks at the monster in awe and slight disgust. She pushes off the tree and starts to walk to me but her knees lock up and she falls to the ground. I push myself back up quickly and crawl to her. 

“Are you ok?”

I quickly ask her, wiping away the blood that has now made its way onto her eyebrows. Keiko sends me an unreadable look. 

“How did you kill the Chimera?” 

I go to answer, but a shock of lightning comes down between us. The only thing I can focus on is the scorching pain that has taken over my body and left arm. My vision goes black as I feel my heart start to give out. 

“We need a medic.” A strained voice yells from beside me. Or is it coming from behind me? I can’t tell. All I can focus on is the searing pain that has taken over my being, I can’t seem to focus on the campers running over to me and Kieko, I can’t hear any more of Keiko's cries for help, and I don’t feel the muscular arms wrap around my body as I feel my heart start to slow down again, everything going back to dark. 

“I think she’s waking up!” 

A loud girlish voice comes from beside me.

“That’s what you said two days ago.” 

Another more annoyed voice talks back. I strain to open my eyes as light crashes against my burning pupils. But I do I open them enough to look up to see dark brown eyes staring down at my Y/E/C ones. 

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood Sleeping Beauty.”

[seramilla]

Sitting on Post again this ‘lovely’ night. And it’s storming. So it got me wondering. Do you think in the Fallen AU when it storms Carmilla is reminded of her Fall but because she had little ones she couldn’t be scared so she learned to hide it? But when Sera joins her and sees her flinch she uses her wings to sort of muffle and cocoon them from the noise?

Carmilla hides it well, but she has severe trauma regarding the event of her fall. When her daughters were young, she would never let Odette or Clara see her in a moment of weakness. She had to be strong for her girls, and often grit her teeth against the panic inside when they’d been afraid of the dark, or angels coming for them in their sleep, or an acid rain storm that sounded like the world tearing itself apart outside.

Wind whipping by; humid, moist air hitting her face as she tumbles; solid, unforgiving Earth coming to meet her body and bones when she'd landed on hot, burning soil, like an electric clap of thunder. The entire place had been an inferno, and Carmilla hadn't found adequate shelter for days. A war had been waged between herself and the elements, and even though she'd won out in the end, Hell itself had left unabating scars on her psyche.

Now the girls are older, and they don't need her to pretend to be strong. Sometimes she will hide herself away in her quarters at certain times. Odette and Clara never question their mother's behavior; she's known to keep odd hours, and they figure she's just working overtime again. Instead, Carmilla may be curled up in bed under the covers, wiling away the hours until her brain says it's safe again. Until the little voices in her head stop reminding her of the past and go away.

Then Sera falls. The result is just as chaotic and traumatic for her partner as it had been for Carmilla. With the big caveat being that Sera had Carmilla to lean on during those first difficult, unforgiving months, making her transition to what is “normal” down here much easier to handle. Now Sera is settled, comfortable in her routines with Carmilla, and Carmilla is now pretending to be strong again. For Sera this time. She falls into old habits. But unlike Clara and Odette, Sera is not limited by the same lack of understanding of a child. She sees right through Carmilla's facade.

"Are you okay, darling?" she asks Carmilla softly, just above a whisper, so Carmilla can still hear her voice above the raging storm outside.

"Yes. I'm fine." Carmilla lies. Sera knows it's a lie. She also knows how Carmilla gets, when it sounds like bombs are detonating outside. She encircles her wife in her arms from behind, unfurling her wings like a cloak, and wrapping them around the both of them, until Carmilla is shielded from the "danger" her brain is perceiving.

"You needn't be afraid, Carmilla," Sera assures her. Sera breathes on the back of Carmilla's neck, and kisses her softly there. It's gentle, and reassuring, and not meant to start anything. It's just to remind Carmilla that Sera is there, if she needs her.

Carmilla doesn't have the benefit of wings to hide her. Sera had gotten to keep hers when she fell, and Carmilla hasn't bothered to learn how to re-summon her own. She hadn't been certain she wanted to in the first place. There is its own sort of pain in the thought of seeing herself with wings again. But with Sera's encircling her body, they are a much-needed buffer to the terrible sounds invading her ears; the soft, dense feathers encase them both in a soft, shielding, calming cocoon.

"I'm here," is all Sera says, and it's enough for Carmilla. She's never been much of a feelings person, so Sera leaving her alone to process things, but helping in her own way by providing a shelter, warms Carmilla's cold heart just enough for it to melt a little. Like a glacier, it might take years or millenia for Carmilla's heart to fully melt. But she appreciates Sera, and hugs the other woman's arms around her, all the same. She loves and appreciates her so much.

[simplydannie]

There are time you said that velvet would (unknowingly) be abusive to veneer due to the poison, have Veera ever suffered that same treatment from her or witnessed what she done to veneer?

How does Veera or Velvet react?

Veera has definitely witnessed how Velvet has treated Veneer. And it honestly scares her because she has never known Velvet ever to be that way:

Previous: It Takes Three

Veers was stuck in her room….like always. Velvet and Veneer were the hot shots, they were the celebrities. Veera didn’t want any of that, but they still brought her along…she was their little sister after all, and they didn’t dare leave her back in the under-city alone.

They had a concert tonight, it should have been by now. At this point she grew bored. Veera decided to venture around the manor…again. As she walked down the halls she began to wonder where that little Troll was, the one who decided to stay with the three of them and care for them. He had come up with them when they left the under-city…but it was as if suddenly he disappeared. Velvet said that he ditched them and gone back with his brothers. Judging by the look on Veneer’s face that day it had to be true….Without saying goodbye? Veera felt a little hurt, a little betrayed at that. Now here the three of them were, at the mercy of a cruel woman who “claims” she cares about their well-being, who says she sees them as her own children.

“Ya right. Evil witch.” She murmured under her breath. Veera saw the scars Veneer would have…the bruising. Every now and then she’d see it on her sister too, but it was always Veneer. She would constantly try to talk to him about it, but he’d avoid it…

“What does she do to you?” Veera had asked.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie Vennie, I see how beat up you are sometimes. Tell me please.”

“I said nothing.”

“Vennie, I worry about you. Please…”

“I SAID LEAVE IT ALONE VEERA!” He had snapped. She saw something in him that day…a change….his eyes had this pink glow to them. This wasn’t Vennie, not her clumsy but brave big brother who protected them in the under-city. When he saw the look of surprise on her face, he broke down in tears.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. She hugged him tight…

….From then on Veera knew there was something going on. She may be the youngest, but she was old enough to when people harbored dark secrets…and Mistress definitely harbored dark secrets.

“Velvet! Veneer!” She called out in the manor. They have to be back from the concert by now, it’s 3 AM, she thought to herself. She decided to head to their bedrooms to see if they were maybe asleep. Veera checked Vennei’s first: she opened the door and give it a small soft knock. “Vennie?” She called out, but then noticed his bed was still empty.

“Hmm….” And that’s when she heard it…the screaming, the yelling….the anger.

“WHAT THE HELL VENEER! HOW IS THAT YOU MESS UP EVERY SINGLE TIME!” Veera knew that voice…it was her sister. She quickly made her way towards the sounds as quiet as she could be. Veera poked her head in her sisters room thinking that’s where they could be, but there was no one. She then realized the sounds were coming from the studio room not far off.

“Ugh! Now because of you, she’s going to work us hard for the next couple of days because of your stupid mess up! \”

“You could barely see it!”

“If she could see that it was huge Veneer!”

Veera made it to the studio room. The door lay half way open, she snuck close and peeked inside to see her older siblings arguing…it seems that something happened at the concert? She stayed quiet as they both continued to speak.

“I hate when she makes us those practices! We don’t get a break! Finally, I was hoping this performance would be perfect so we could please her and take a breather! But no! You screwed it up! You screwed it up like you screw everything up!”

“Velvet, that piece of wire was left out by the stage crew. I was to busy focusing on making our routine perfect I just didn’t see it! Besides, i made the fall look like it was part of our dance. The crowd loved it!”

“Then why was she upset when we got back! Why does she want us at rehearsals in a couple of hours!”

“I- I don’t know….”

Veera saw Velvet run her hands through her hair as she continued to pace back and forth. She had seen her sister upset before, but never like this, especially not towards their brother. She could see her sister’s breathing grow heavier and quicker with each passing second…When Velvet turned around…she could see her eyes….the pink glow in her eyes…

“…All this Veneer….All this is your fault!”

“What? How is everything my fault?”

“…Us running away from home…Me and Veera were fine! Dad loved us! It was YOU that could never live up to his expectations! It was YOU he was hard on! We left because of YOU!”

“It was your idea to runaway!”

“I did it because of YOU! And living in the damn under-city! We got kicked out of that gang because YOU’RE such an IDIOT! UGGGHHH!!! And now this!!! Mistress is hard on US because of YOU!! YOU ruin everything Veneer!!!”

“That’s not fair! I’m doing this for you AND Veera. I tried to protect you AND Veera when we were still down there! And….” He never finished his sentence….

SMACK!

Velvet turned around and backhanded Veneer across the face. Veera hid a gasp behind her hand as she saw her own sister strike her brother…This wasn’t Velvet…She would never lay a hand on him, on either one of them.

“…That….That hurt Vels….” He began to back away as he saw the glint in her eyes…the poison…it was taking control again, “Please Vels, take a breath and listen…”

“….I hate you…..” She balled her hand into a fist and proceeded to beat him. He stumbled, falling to the floor, Velvet sitting on top of him pounding away at his face. He grabbed her by the wrists and attempted to stop her, to push her off him…but she was in a fit of rage, she was to strong. Veera saw the blood leaking from his now and a cut on his cheek. She stood frozen in terror, tears streaming down her face as she witnessed what was happening….

Velvet broke her wrists free and wrapped her hand around her brother’s throat. He began to gasp for air as her fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around his neck….That’s when Veera came back to reality: she felt her feet begin to move as she pushed the door open and ran to her brothers aid.

“STOP IT!” She cried. Veera went and pushed Velvet off of Veneer. In an instant Velvet snapped back, her eyes going back to its normal color. She turned to see Veera hugging on desperately to Veneer.

“Go back to bed Veera.” He told her.

“NO!…” She cried, burying her face into his chest, “I’m not letting you go. I don’t want to.” Veera hugged him tight. He was the one to protect them after they ran away from home. Sweet, quiet, timid Veneer. He was the one who would get beat up for them, protect them from evil eyes that wanted his sister’s for other things….And now…she felt she couldn’t protect him not only from Mistress, but from their own sister. Veera turned her eyes towards Velvet.

“…why?” Was all she asked. Velvet stood up and looked at the damage she had not only done to her brother, but now the fear in her sisters eyes when she looked at her.

“Oh my god…” She gasped placing a hand over her mouth, “I’m….I’m sorry…..” She ran out the door before her siblings could see the tears beginning to fall down her face…

What had she done?…..Why had she done it?

[pure-oddity]

Hey! It's murder time :3

(Also not proofread, if i stare at something too long I'll just never do anything with it.)

Pt.1 Part.2

Butcher/slasher ghost au: Part 3

He's known as the reaper - he thinks it's a bit on the nose but who's he gonna complain to??

Outfit is simple, a lot of it comes from his time in the SAS - skull mask included.

His goal is to clean, plain and simple. He doesn't want to walk side by side with some bottom feeding murders, doesn't want to risk serving perfectly good meat to abusers. The idea makes his skin crawl.

Considers his work just, has little faith in the justice system - the cops here have been...less than efficient in his eyes. Unwilling to go as far as needed, constrained by the law (or worse, they show sympathy to the pathetic things and let them off easy). So Simon takes things into his own hands.

The only part of the whole experience that he MIGHT feel some guilt for enjoying. Is the fear of those he hunts. Because isn't it so ironic, to spend your life terrorizing others only to die scared, confused, alone and in agony at the hands of someone larger and stronger than you? The irony certainly isn't lost on simon, and he gets a little thrill out of it.

Considers the whole thing his ghost time, because it's not all that dissimilar to what he was doing in the military right? Taking out the bad to protect the good, getting dirty so the world stays clean. He's got a few less resources sure, less hands - but he makes due. He dons his old husk, and cleans up his little corner of the world.

It starts with a jerk at a pub. He's people watching again, nursing a glass of bourbon in a shadowy corner - trying to observe and adapt behaviors he think will help him settle in better. A man walks in, simon notes he looks agitated but also - excited? Watches him walk to a group of girls, previously abuzz with excitement chatting away. He watches the life be sucked from the whole table as the man approaches, watches as he leans towards one of them hand on her arm in a grip that he knows is meant to hurt. Watches as her demeanor changes to something more reserved and afraid and Simon can't take it - seen all he's needed to. Walks over silently, every bit the predator he knows to be.

was just gonna intimidate the guy a bit, send him running off tail tucked between his legs - see if maybe he could charm the poor girls into settling down and enjoying themselves again (maybe even on the sly recommend a womans domestic abuse shelter for the poor victim).

But then he sees how much the fucker is enjoying this. Enjoying the poor girls fear, enjoying ruining their night and ending their harmless fun. Enjoys hurting the poor woman and, well.

Simon only stops when the man passes out from pain. Face a bruised and swollen lump, nose shattered and blood dripping everywhere - maybe missing a few teeth. Simon grabs the guys shirt and uses it like a cloth, cleaning the reminents off his hands. Spares a glance at the girls, is unsupervised to see them afraid - but still saddened by it. He tips his head at the main victim, then makes his way outside to wait for the police. He lights a cigarette, leant against the wall of the building and glances to the side as he puffs a cloud of smoke when he hears the door chime again. It's the main woman and he nearly chokes. She's trembling and her eyes well with tears, and she places a tiny palm on his bicep.

If she feels his body jolt she doesn't say anything and her hand remains there - a burning itching feeling barely blocked out by his hoodies sleeve. How he loves and loathes it at the same time.

She thanks him for what he did, and while he doesn't ask questions, she offers answers anyway. Said that she'd left him ages ago - went to a lot of trouble running from him, uprooted her whole life and moved cities over when she realized the police wouldn't do anything. Only for the bastard to find her again. Says that while what Simon did was terrifying, she's grateful that he stepped in. Scared to imagine what the fucker would have done had he managed to get her out of the building.

It makes Simon want to hit him again, but he refrains. Instead he pulls as much softness and care from his soul that he can - tells her that it's okay and he'd do it again. That no one should be treated like that, that she didn't deserve to have her life messed with like that. And that with how thorough he was with that man's face, there's a good chance he won't so much as look at another woman again.

She smiles at him. His heart near bursts. Tells him that's what she's hoping for - but is ready to run if things go belly up anyway. Pats his arm and makes her way inside, content to wait in the warmth as the police finally arrive on the scene.

Everyone is questioned, the man is brought to a hospital and Simon is free to go after some questioning. The girls from the table all having jumped to his defense, and apparently the bottom feeder threw the first punch? Simon doesn't remember the hit really, but sure.

The idea that the scumbag could come out of the hospital with a vengeance worries simon, because it makes sense. Embarrassed and in pain, all those feelings likely to be taken out on the poor girl.

Pulls some connections. The fucker gets sent to prison - drug charges or something, not really concerned with the why - and it's still not enough for Simon.

Watches for news of his release obsessively, makes it so he'll be one of the first to know of the fucker is so much as considered for early release.

And a month later (what a fucking joke) when the day comes and Simon catches wind that he's going after the poor girl again? Simon takes care of it.

And it just continues on from there.

Watches someone beat on a defenseless animal? Body found 3 days later. Animal is given to a loving home

Catches an attacker stabbing some random victim? The body is found within hours - victim wakes in the hospital and has no recollection of how they got there or who saved them.

Sees a guy spike a drink? The guys found dead a day later (and the bodies of the ones who were making and selling the drugs haven't yet been found)

But the world isn't so black and white. There's a lot of grey.

The animal abuser had previous animal abuse charges attached to his name, yet he still got ahold of an animal. The shelter or breeder who did this is just as responsible for not double checking who they were giving pets to.

Considers those bystanders just as bad and deserving of punishment. Thinks of all the harm that could have been avoided had people just done the bare minimum.

The mugger had been arrested and released more than once, making the police responsible for not doing something to prevent this.

And the drugger, did this at the bar - multiple people sitting on either side of him, every chair full, and no one saw anything? The bartender, a few feet away didn't think to stop it? It makes simon just so fuckin mad.

And thus the reaper is born.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Preserve Your Own Light

Note: for my mutual @lunargrapejuice

Part 1 and Part 2

As everyone settled for another night of rest, Xenthia sat by the fire, body bruised and broken after her last fight. The only sound that accompanied the crackling of the fireplace was the scratching of chalk on the paper.

A little hobby she picked up years ago. Some of Sylvanus's creations are so breathtaking one wishes to preserve them forever, and that's what she did, with pigment and paper. As Xenthia's hand danced on the piece of parchment, her mind ran through the events of the last three days.

She immediately knew something was horribly wrong when Astarion came to her and asked for her help. Xenthia got her answer when he took off his shirt in front of her. He looked so ashamed and nervous, she assumed there was an injury from his previous battles he was hiding from her, but it was much, much worse.

The jawline is a touch slimmer, I have to start again.

Jagged, ugly scars ran all over his back to form runes and symbols of likes she never seen before. When she convinced Astarion to talk to others in the camp about them, Karlach said they're written in infernal. As if having a script written into someone's back wasn't ominous enough.

The nose is straight. Can't forget to shade his laugh lines and those nasal lines too.

Cut to Last Light Inn, Raphael made his unpleasant appearance and the paladin made a deal with him no matter how much she despised the thought. What he demanded in exchange for the information was practically a suicide. Thank the Elder gods for surviving this fight, she was held together by bandages and divine magic. As Shadowheart and Lae'zel dragged her unconscious, bloody, and beaten body to the camp, Xenthia pondered why she agreed to help Astarion in the first place.

The hair curl around his ears and then swipe back, like so...

To get rid of that tortured look on his face. And to alleviate the pain in her chest whenever she remembered the details he shared with her about his imprisonment.

I'm going to tear Cazador to shreds with your bare hands once I meet him.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Xenthia quickly pressed the parchment into her chest in panic, her head whipping at the sound of a familiar voice. Really, it should scare her how easily can Astarion sneak up on her. He sat down on the log she was leaning against, stoking the flames with a stick. They both watched the fire in silence before the orc woman braved an answer.

"I thought I was going to be gone for good." She choked out in pitiful attempt to sound casual.

Astarion looked at her in surprise, "Well, we face death at every corner. Nothing new here," he added with a shrug.

"No, we face danger. Today, there were moments I... that I was... it was so damn close." Xenthia buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed with all the emotions welling up inside her.

Astarion was at loss of what to do. He wasn't really a type others turned to comfort. He made sure to work on his reputation of heartless, cruel scoundrel tirelessly. But he was the one who decided to approach her, sitting all alone in front of the fire. Xenthia was a woman of cloth, she swore an oath to protect and kindle a light whenever she went, and that included him, apparently. Still, Astarion often underestimated how far that dedication went.

To think that this light would ever reach him... he stopped praying for it years ago... and now it found him.

He awkwardly reached out and ran a hand through her hair.

"We all bitten off more than we can chew, but I suppose that's part of the Illythid experience, hm?"

Xenthia leaned into his touch, to the point she rested against his leg and Astarion almost jumped out of his skin. What in the hells is going on...

She braved to voice what was hanging in the air "Cazador is a vile piece of shit and we're going to stop him. I promise."

The vampire let out a snort of laughter, "You think it's possible?"

Xenthia audibly gulped when she said in tremble in her voice "I don't know...but we'll have to try. I...I can't let you fall into the arms of that vile man."

How many prayers he sent to every god in every church of Baldur's Gate for this moment. Only for his pleas to be answered by a paladin whose order had only one member, worshipping a god that has no name. And all he did to receive that protection was to behave like a complete piece of shit that complained, mocked, and snarled at every turn.

Ugh.

Astarion mused, "If that ritual is completed a terrible disaster will befall the world."

Tossing the stick into the fire he added, "Starting with my death, just when I started enjoying my freedom."

He looked down at her, only to find out she had her big brown eyes set on him. Something in his being...moved...he didn't dare to ponder what.

"I need to bring the fight back to him." His jaw set in determination, "And I need your help."

Xenthia gave him the best smile she could muster in her beaten state and gave him one simple nod. Nothing more reassuring at that moment.

There was this... warmth in her smile, it was too much for him to bear. Astarion got up hurriedly, dragging her along with him.

"Now of you go, you're practically falling asleep in your feet. Can't have you dying on me now if you are to become a successful meat shield."

That earned him a laugh. Xenthia made it slowly to her tent with Astarion practically holding her uptight. He nudged her to her bedroll, throwing several furs on her despite her protests.

"Hush. Yurgir and his lackeys truly did number on you, best you get some rest."

She conked out almost immediately, but he stayed sitting next to her sleeping form a minute longer. As if her sleeping face would reveal an answer for all those thoughts and emotions swirling in his head.

"Why are you so good to me?" He spoke into the night, a genuine question hanging in the air.

Something moved in the corner of his eye. He caught a sight of a piece of paper next to Xenthia's bedroll. He snatched the paper from the ground with curiosity, expecting some sort of interesting information or perhaps a powerful runes. Instead, he found a drawn portrait of rather handsome, elven man.

Who was that? He hasn't looked like anyone he encountered on their journey.

The high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and noble features...

That's me.

Astarion let out a strangled sound, something between laugh and sob as he committed to memory a face he hadn't seen in two centuries.

He traced the lines on the paper with his finger, leaving a small smudge in there. It seems she made plenty of revisions as she drew him. Must've taken time with it, too. Committing every inch of his visage to memory. There were several pieces of paper filled with individual parts of his face, particularly his eyes and his mouth.

Astarion looked at Xenthia's sleeping face. There were so many things he wished to say, wanted to ask, but now's not the time. He will make sure that you the extension of his feelings.

And this time he'll do it right.

The opportunity presented itself after they visited the Moonrise Towers.

Xenthia...she could have easily told him to bite Araj. To force himself through it no matter how he felt about it. But she didn't, which made Astarion realize he never stopped thinking like a slave.

Her intentions and thoughts still muddled his mind. She's not a target, not an enemy, not a lover. Then...what is she to him?

She's a madwoman with a death wish and a heart of gold, for one. An outcast amongst humans and orcs alike. A savage brute cleaving through enemies like a beast who talks about beautiful sunsets and cute puppies and makes flower crowns. Xenthia was so ready to risk her life for him, or anyone in their party. No seduction or manipulation required. She laughed like a dying moat, sang like a harpy, and danced like...well like an orc, but that never kept her from singing, dancing, and laughing to the fullest. The orc half-caste kept her emotions in the open without ever holding them back to the point that made Astarion uncomfortable.

She...she is incredible...and Astarion is bewitched. Like a damn fool, but there's no going back. He's already far too gone to push down all these...feelings. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want to hold back anymore.

After all, his lifestyle changed. It's only natural for his love life to take a new form as well.

That's how he found himself stumbling through Underdark, which was surprisingly glowy, to the one who made his long-dead heart beat again.

He found Xenthia near some strange glowing river, you have your back turned to him, crouched near the riverbank. Astarion couldn't fight the urge to sneak up on her. Blame it on the predator in him. Once he was close enough he bent down and gently blew on her green pointy ear. Before he knew it, he was on the ground with his arm twisted behind his back.

"Shit! Astarion...I...I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you!"

"It's alright darling, I should know better than to sneak up on holy knight. Nothing goes past you, does it?" he chuckled.

Accept his affection for her...maddening that.

The orc woman laughed, "Was getting suplexed the only thing you came here for, or...?"

Astarion cleared his throat. "Ah, no no. I...ahem...wanted to thank you."

She gave him a confused look. "What for?"

He almost busted out in hysterical laughter. Of course, Xenthia would treat her endless kindness as a matter of fact.

"For what you've said!" he pressed on, "While I was in front of that insufferable drow."

She still seemed to not get his point. Astarion sighed, it seemed that he'll have to spell it out for her.

"I spent nearly two centuries using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. It never mattered how I felt about it! You could've asked me to do the same. But you didn't, and I'm grateful for that."

The confusion melted into a pity. She stepped closer to him and grasped his shoulders. He gave an involuntary twitch. This was hell, he hated this, but he had to tell her everything to explain himself fully.

"I could never ask you to do something you don't want to, Astarion Never!" Xenthia's voice was filled with so much emotion it made him squeamish.

"It's a novel concept, I admit." he chuckled to alleviate the tension. It didn't help that the girl still tenderly held him by the shoulders, so close he could practically taste her. He gently shook her off and stepped back, his body howling at the loss of warmth.

"And a little intimidating, too. It would be so easy to bite her. Just another disgusting moment to push myself through. This was the sole purpose of my existence after all - seducing anything with a pulse. Today's events made me realize I never stopped acting like someone's possession." Astarion gesticulated wildly with his hands, words tumbling out of him like water from a broken dam. After years of putting on a facade, of carefully schooling your words, gestures, and tone, it was exhilarating to finally be true to someone.

"Astarion. I'm very sorry for everything that happened and I truly am grateful that you're telling me all of this. But...where are you going with this?"

He took a pause to avoid the pained look she was giving him and to collect the strength to keep looking her in the eyes once he admitted the full length of his shame.

"You see...I had a plan..."

As Astarion kept on talking he saw Xenthia's expression shift from incredulousness to hurt to anger, and for a moment he thought confessing to her might not be as great an idea as he thought. He continued, explaining his instinctual urge to seduce to secure safety, which later bloomed into genuine feelings.

"You're incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real."

Xenthia struggled to find a proper response. She didn't know whether to be angry at Astarion for basically admitting that he was using her, angry at herself for falling for it and there was this ever-present pestering sympathy and pity that gnawed at her for all the reasons he had for deceiving her.

"How...how am I supposed to even react to that?!" The orc woman turned to Astarion but he gave her no answer.

"All this time...I knew you were a bit of a bastard but I assumed at least the attraction was genuine...You're telling me all this time you played me like a fiddle?!?" Her voice kept increasing in volume but she didn't care. The frustration welled up inside her like a fireball.

"But that's the point! I am attracted to you!" Astarion urged desperately. "Look at you for goodness sake." He gestured to her form with a hopeless smile.

Xenthia ground her teeth together, "Are you mocking me?"

He frowned, "Gods, you're so stubborn. Why is it so hard to believe that someone might find you attractive?"

"Because I listened from day one how hideous I am! My teeth, my skin, my body was under reminder of how grotesque everyone found me, including YOU!" The last part was finished with a genuine shout. It made her head swivel in the direction of the camp, afraid that their argument might reach their companion's ears.

Astarion spread his arms like a martyr. "I know! I was an arse! I was so blinded by my own pain that I ignored and even revered in pain I inflicted on others. I don't blame you for being angry at me! As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you sent me to hell right then and there." He dropped his arms, shoulders sagging. "Perhaps we would both be better for it. Gods know you could do much better than me." Thankfully, this made some of her anger dissipate.

"The fact that it does mean something to me is the problem. And before you say it, no, I'm not bemoaning my fate of falling for a half-orc, I just...don't know what I am."

He stepped closer to her, testing the waters.

"Intimacy...being close to someone was used as performance. Even though whatever we have between us is different than any other relationships I had, it still feels...dirty." He suppressed all these memories of past conquests and prowlings in the night, selling his body like a common whore. Why, why can't he just forget.

"I don't know how to be close to someone, no matter how much I want to."

He looked up at Xenthia and, fuck, with so much longing and pain and vulnerability it rendered her weak.

"Argh! You...dammit...stop it! Stop giving me that wet, stray, kitten look!"

She raised her arms as if wanting to strangle him and Astarion instinctively winced. To his infinite surprise, a pair of burly arms enveloped him in a warm, tight embrace.

It took Astarion a moment to process that she was not smashing him over the head with a rock. Another moment that you've seen to forgive him as he slowly, awkwardly wrapped his arms around her.

She was so, so warm, and firm, and for a second there he felt like if she hadn't held him so tightly, he might've crumbled. This was the most honest and open he was in the centuries and it left him quite weak. He felt as she shifted her arms to wrap them even more securely around him, one hand clutching his hip, the other pressing to his shoulder. Xenthia buried her face in his hair and nuzzled it. When Astarion realized she won't be letting go of him anytime soon, he pressed his face into her chest and inhaled her scent.

"Maybe what you really need is a friend, not a lover," Xenthia whispered into his hair.

Astarion's eyes snap open. She keeps surprising him tonight. Could that truly satisfy him? Astarion was once more unsure whether her interest in him was platonic or romantic. But does it really matter? Isn't it enough that she's willing to stay by his side? He pulled away to look at her, mouth opening and closing to formulate an answer.

"I...I'd like that." He winced internally at the voice crack. He spoke so softly Xenthia had to lean in closer. It made his knees weaken, who knew a man who spent decades luring people with his body could be so easily flustered.

She rubbed small circles into his back as she spoke. "I don't mind taking it slow, it's more of my style, honestly." Orc woman chuckled, the sound ruffling his hair. And just to mess with him she added, "We'll cuddle and hold hands and kiss all sweet like teenagers."

Astarion laughed, "That almost sounds like a challenge." The thought of participating only in the most innocent displays of affection with someone who is more delectable each day felt truly amusing.

"I've had an endless parade of lovers, but friend..." He took a pause, actually sifting through his memories to discern if there was someone in his past like her. "I can't think of a single one."

He finally stepped away. Xenthia's touch was too distracting and he wanted to get his feelings across. Astarion takes her hand, green, calloused, and much bigger than his, and holds it between his own hands like a precious crystal ornament.

"...until you."

He looked at her with so much naked adoration it made her feel like she could choke on it. Despite her previous outburst, Xenthia could not suppress her true feelings no matter how much she tried to be angry at him.

The infamous charmer claimed another victim. One could only hope he won't shatter the heart in his grasp this time.

[2baddiesfanfics]

Battle Scars

Pairing: Nobara x Maki

Tags: Scars, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, Curses

Summary:

Ten years have passed since Nobara and Yuji’s fight with Eso and Kechizu, yet the evidence of the brothers’ Decay Rot Technique still periodically squirms beneath her skin. When the rose patterned curse starts to reappear, how will she hide it from her girlfriend? The real question is - does she need to hide it?

*Note: All characters in our fics are 18+*

Read on Ao3

Fucking shit. Not again!

Nobara stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her fingers softly tracing the remnants of the mark of that damn curse. Ten years had passed since her and Yuji’s fight with Eso and Kechizu, yet the evidence of the brothers’ Decay Rot Technique still periodically squirmed beneath her skin.

At first, it was barely noticeable – a ghost of a scar that seemed to reappear after moments of high adrenaline and then disappear after her heart rate stabilized. More recently, however, she couldn’t pin down the trigger. Happy, sad, mad…it didn’t matter. There was no rhyme or reason to it and it was getting more and more difficult to hide from the one person she couldn’t reveal it to no matter what.

“Babe? I’m back. Megumi wanted me to tell you he said ��hey,’” a familiar voice shouted from the entrance of the apartment they shared.

Oh god! Perfect fucking timing.

She scrambled to find a way to cover her face. Something, anything. The footsteps grew louder.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

“Nobara?” Maki’s calm, cool voice called her name as she rapped on the bathroom door.

“Uh…just a minute! Finishing up. Wanted to make sure I was fresh out of the shower for you when you got home!” the girl quickly lied, trying to buy herself more time. She knew she was being ridiculous. This was the woman who had fought by her side time and again. They had both seen each other bloodied and raw in battle. But those injuries had been temporary. Deep down, Nobara was scared lifeless at the fact this could become permanent.

She had always felt a strong sense of pride in her looks. Some might call it vanity, sure. Perhaps it would have been if it was only for her own sake. After she and Maki had become more than friends, however, she knew she’d be making appearances at large events on the arm of the Zenin heir. To be flawed in any way would only make the woman’s already very complex situation even more problematic.

“Are you ok? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Yup! Yep. Just…uh…” her eyes shot around the bathroom looking for an excuse. She yanked a large towel from the rack and threw it over her head. Draping part of it over the tainted side of her face, she turned out the light and opened the door.

“Just need to dry my hair for a bit. The humidity is killing me,” she murmured as she quickly walked away from her.

“So…no ��hi, I missed you?’ Normally you’re all over me the second I walk through the door,” Maki said, a tinge of disappointment in her voice as she reached for the other girl’s wrist. Nobara jerked her arm away far quicker than she had meant to and the towel unraveled and dropped to the floor before she could readjust it.

“Nobara! What the fuck! Did I do something to upset you? What the hell is wr-?” Maki’s eyes shot open as she stretched out her hand to brush her cheek. “Oh my god…what happened?”

Tears pooled in the younger woman’s eyes. “I-I…I didn’t know how to tell you. You’ve been dealing with so much lately. I didn’t want you to think this is permanent. I have no idea why this keeps happening…”

Maki interrupted her by pulling her into an embrace. Nobara buried her face into her shoulder, holding onto her as sobs wracked her body. “Hey now, hey now. Breathe, baby. Something as superficial as this would never change how I feel about you. I’ve got plenty of scars myself. It comes with the territory of being a jujutsu sorcerer,” she consoled her as her hand rubbed her back in rhythmic circles.

Nobara looked up at her searching for reassurance. “P-promise?” Maki walked her over to the bed they shared and pulled her to sit between her legs. Hugging her from behind, she spoke calmly.

“Promise. I remember the night you came home from that battle quite vividly. It was actually the moment I fell for you.” Nobara smacked her hands wrapped around her waist.

“If you’re gonna be a dick about this I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

Maki squeezed her tighter. “I’m being dead serious, babe. At first, I was scared out of my mind because you had fucking nails embedded in your arm.” She felt Nobara chuckle nervously against her chest. “You were clearly ready to sacrifice yourself for your friends. Your Straw Doll Technique is absolutely insane. There’s no way I could counter it.” The younger woman relaxed in her arms at this praise.

“…Go on.”

“You must have been riding the high from the fight because you had this look in your eyes…like you would devour me if I got too close.”

Nobara felt her pulse quicken, her self-consciousness quickly shifting to confidence.

“I’m used to surviving on physical strength alone. But when your gaze met mine that evening, that rose pattern etched across your face and down your arm…I wanted you to spend that entire night showing me I might not have been as strong as I once thought,” she explained. “As a matter of fact…” Maki leaned down closer, her lips brushing the shell of her ear. “…now might be a good chance to make that a reality.”

The feeling of her breath hot on her skin activated something deep inside of Nobara. Whether it was the curse or something else entirely, she didn’t know. The younger woman reeled on her, pinning her to the mattress by her wrists. “If I would have known you felt that way, this night would have started much differently.”

Before Maki could reply, she captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Her body thrummed with unfamiliar sensation, her senses heightened by the power that coursed through her. She pried her lips open, her tongue seeking the warm wetness she’d tasted countless times but could never get enough of.

Nobara’s hands tightened around her wrists, the desire to overpower and consume her stronger than it had ever been before.

“Fuck…ahh! N-nobara…” Maki choked out as she felt the woman’s teeth sink into the tender skin of her neck. Her girlfriend had always been intense, but it wasn’t often she found herself beneath her.

“Mmmm, sorry. I just can never get enough of you,” Nobara murmured against her skin. “You taste so fucking good.” Her hands slithered down her body, disappearing underneath Maki’s shirt. The warm skin of her palms caressing her breasts made Maki sigh in contentment.

“What, not going to put up any kind of fight? Normally I have to beg you for a chance to top,” Nobara whispered wickedly.

“Oh, trust me…after a mission…sometimes it’s nice to be the one being ravaged…” Maki replied. Desire burned in the eyes of the woman on top of her at the suggestion.

“Be careful what you wish for. Now then. My hands are going to be quite busy, so I’ll need something to keep you from misbehaving…ah, yes,” she said as she whipped Maki’s shirt up and over her head. Wrapping it around the woman’s wrists, she tied a knot just strong enough to hold without cutting off her circulation.

Nobara gently raked her nails down her sides causing Maki to squirm. Maintaining eye contact, she yanked her pants off of her in one swift motion. Maki felt her stomach flip in response to her girlfriend’s aggressive need for her. She could already feel her arousal wetting the sheets.

Nobara had long forgotten the worry she had felt about her appearance and her renewed self-assurance only made Maki want her more.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you look like you could kill me,” she growled in anticipation.

Nobara cackled. “God, Maki, the weirdest things turn you on. But that’s what I love about you. You’re never boring,” she retorted as she sunk between her legs. Shoving two fingers inside of her, Maki moaned loudly as her head snapped back. “And the noises you make are so, so worth it.

She moved in and out slowly at first, licking her clit in time with her strokes. Her girlfriend’s hips jerked to meet her face causing Nobara to use her free hand to hold her steady.

“Not yet, love. Let me have some fun. You’re not pathetic enough to come after just a few licks now, are you?”

“F-fuck you…” Maki snarled.

“Oh, no. That’ll be your job after I’m done with you,” Nobara replied cheekily, the vibration of her voice bringing her closer to the edge.

“Fuck…going to…FUCK!” Maki ground out as she came against her tongue.

“That was too easy,” Nobara said as she crawled onto Maki’s lap watching her catch her breath

“Don’t get cocky. You just got me warmed up, is all,” she replied.

The other girl untied the knot that restrained her lover’s hands and was about to toss it to the side of the bed when Maki quickly grabbed it from her. Nobara soon found the scrap of fabric being wound across her eyes, eliminating her vision.

“Geez, guess you can’t even go a half hour without taking charge again,” she teased with a laugh.

“Shut your smart mouth and let me love you,” Maki murmured into her neck. Her lips brushed against the rose pattern that was finally starting to fade once more. Tracing its outline with her tongue, she moved from her cheek down her neck, and then to her chest and down her arms.

“Maki…don’t…it might…” Nobara began to protest.

“We’re fine. I mean…you do have the character for rose in your name…so sexy…” she answered, her breath searing her bare skin.

Unable to read the emotion in Nobara’s eyes, she took her lack of protest as permission to continue. She came back to her mouth, sliding her tongue between her lips, tracing soft circles against her cheek with her thumb all the while.

Nobara moaned into her mouth when her lover’s hands came to rest against her chest. Her practiced fingers twisted and rolled her nipples, applying just the right amount of pressure causing her to ache with need.

“Ahhh…M-maki!

She continued her ministrations and deepened her kisses with each swivel and pull. Nobara moved her hips along Maki’s lap in an attempt to relieve the dull throbbing that pulsed between her thighs.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” Maki commanded. The woman did as she was told, and her girlfriend continued to strategically ignore her attempts to get her to assist.

“P-please…Maki…need you,” she stuttered, finally pulling away when her lungs began to ache for air. Done dragging things out, Maki reached between her thighs and slid two fingers up and down her slick folds.

“Yessss,” Nobara groaned as she felt her insert the digits into her, pumping at a steady pace.

“Nobara…you’re so beautiful…such a good girl…” she praised as the other woman whimpered at her touch. “You’ll never hide things like this from me again now, will you?”

Lost in the pleasure that was building, Nobara didn’t answer. Maki leaned over and bit her shoulder to elicit an answer from her.

“Ah! N-no! Won’t hide…ha…anything from you…anymore. Maki…please…so close…”

Maki tenderly kissed the spot her teeth had marked and pressed her thumb against her clit.

“That’s my good girl,” Maki murmured seductively.

“Mmm…fuck…Maki!” She screeched as she clenched around her fingers, her body shaking with her release. Her grip on the woman’s shoulders was so tight her nails broke skin as she rode out her orgasm.

As they lay in each other’s tight embrace, Maki caressed her cheek and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “Looks like it’s gone for now. But the next time it happens…seriously. Don’t be ashamed. I fell in love with you because of your strength and bravery. A few battle scars aren’t enough to scare me off.”

Nobara’s eyes glistened as she looked at the woman who she was lucky enough to call her girlfriend. Nuzzling in closer, she whispered, “Trust me. If this is what’s in store every time, I’ll always come running to you.”

[amateur-scribbler]

I want to scream until my throat bleeds, a soul crushing scream that would scare birds from their trees.

That scream will echo with all the numbing pain I feel, whenever I think of how I lost the light in my eyes on the night I learnt what any man could so easily steal.

He knows every sickening moment of that night, he heard every one of my hiccuped cries, and with every painfully slow second, I realised it wasn’t just his hands that gripped my throat tight.

My tears melded with the mantra of pleads for it to stop, the choked words were met by deaf ears and my deep fear; a reception that made my heart drop.

The cold hands kept grabbing at the skin he’d decided he was owed, to these cries his conscience was immune, the entitlement to every curve etched in his frenzied eyes showed.

The sounds of the ocean were so close, she called to me, her pained cries crashed onto the shores that were strewn with stone.

I lost myself in the shell my body became, not my own and certainly not something I could bring myself to call home.

His hands and lips had taken their claim, but here I am, in these bones racked with rotting shame, I remain.

He left no trail of blackened bruises or deep scratches in my skin but, I see it so clearly, scars etched in my every fibre; his hands have left a trail of welting burns and this pain will continue to burn like an all consuming wildfire.

Years have passed but those hands, so calloused and cruel, gave life to a twisted dark bitterness that, with time, only grew.

His hands aren’t yours yet your touch will make my skin crawl, please know it’s because I carry his sins entrenched in my every limb; the pain whispers “this body is not yours, not anymore”.

This shame washes over me, it’s a layer of grime I’ll never clean, caked like dried mud that only I will ever see.

I’m the a type of monster Frankenstein didn’t mean to create, and I hope my cries follow him leaving him entrenched in guilt until he lies lonely in his grave.

I hope when he cleanses his skin, the water is tied to my tears and makes him remember that I’ll haunt him until he scratches out his eyes to stop the memories of every woman he ever made feel this sacred kind of fear.

how the ocean finds her sirens - t.k.o

[the-kingshound]

Disclamer: this is a fanwork sent by an anonymous fan. I took the liberty to group all the parts together in a single post.

TW: mention and depiction of eating disorder, light nsfw

I need to say I'm not that good when it comes to writing, so I hope Kal you'll bear with me, and I hope I did the ROs justice...

There are days, you don't feel like eating. But when those days are over, you suddenly eat more than usual, to the point where you vomit everything you consumed before.

However, since the war started, things have changed. When the war began and when it ended, you forced yourself to eat only small portions of food. You never felt guilty, just as you did before or after the war when everything was at its best.

You know that everyone would die to have the same food as you and the other nobles, yet... you find it disgusting. Everything you eat.

You can't pinpoint when it all started. You only know that when you were still young, a lady from another family mocked another lady who had never tasted macarons before. Everyone laughed, even the lady who was mocked.

You didn't like that.

You could see the tears welling up in her eyes. When you tried to approach her away from the other ladies, she lashed out at you, accusing you of being just like the other ladies, mocking her as if she were a low-life.

You don't know what happened after that. All you knew was that you could never see food the same way again.

And it tormented you when the war happened. You wanted to throw away the food in front of you. But you had to eat, just so you could have the energy to stay awake and survive.

The war suddenly ended, just as abruptly as you found yourself at home instead of at a tea party. And the next thing you knew, you were to marry Arthur.

You weren't scared at that moment. Instead, you felt worried. You were afraid of what they would serve you, what they would expect you to eat.

You would rather drink a bottle of poison.

Surprisingly, ever since Gwyar picked up on your habits, the amount of food you receive is neither too much nor too little. Just the right amount to give you the energy you need.

You think you'll be alright as long as it stays this way.

But you're wrong.

There's a gathering tonight, with some nobles who are worthy of trust. You remember the wife of the Count's family, a sweet woman.

Then the macarons are brought out. Apparently, they are the Countess's most skillful dessert, and she can't help but want to share them with you.

You take one. Just one. You know that's all you can handle. The Countess looks sad. Oh no, you shouldn't have done that. You should have eaten more.

And so, you take a second one. And a third. And a fourth. Until you can't take it anymore.

Arthur teases you. "I never knew you were such a sweet tooth. Be careful of the tooth fairy, MC."

You force a smile. You don't know how to respond. You don't know how to explain yourself.

The Countess seems happy. You're glad.

However, as soon as the gathering ends, you push everyone away and rush to the end of the castle, to your room.

Arthur hasn't caught up to you yet, but you know he will soon.

For now, all you can do is force out the food from your lungs. Everything you consumed.

Your eyes are empty and filled with weariness as you faint.

---

"It's bulimia," Morien stated matter-of-factly as soon as Arthur called them in to check on MC. "See the scars here? They're a sign that someone forced themselves to throw up after eating."

Arthur held Gwyar's hands tightly as Morien pointed out the scars on your hands. He could sense Gwyar's worries, and he knew that she was about to blame herself for not noticing the symptoms.

"Bulimia...?" Gwyar whispered, her eyes widened and filled with worries as she looked at you. Arthur had never seen her so concerned for anyone except those closest to her. It was clear that you had earned her trust and loyalties.

"It's a type of mental illness in which someone eats too much and then intentionally vomits," Morien explained. "It seems clear to me that this isn't the first time for MC, but it must have stopped at some point."

"The macarons...!" Gwyar's voice trembled with guilt.

"Yes, I suspect they must have triggered it," Morien confirmed.

Gwyar tried to hold back her tears as she clung to Morien. Why hadn't she noticed? She had been by your side the whole time, for God's sake.

"Gwyar, darling, it's not your fault," Arthur tried to calm her down. But now his focus was entirely on you, and there wasn't much he could do at the moment.

Luckily, Evaine and Yniol were nearby to help.

"Come on, let Morien and Arthur do their jobs. I'll make you some warm tea, and we can talk, alright?" Evaine suggested, guiding Gwyar away from the scene.

"Gwyar, MC wouldn't want to see you worrying. And you'll need to be at your best when she wakes up, right?" Yniol added, offering his support.

Evaine glanced at Arthur for a moment, then nodded to Morien to indicate that they should inform him and Yniol about what had happened to MC.

Arthur pretended not to notice. Instead, he looked at your face as you slept peacefully. However, you appeared pale and fragile. The color had drained from your lips, and faint dark circles had formed under your eyes. It was evident that you had been pushing yourself. And you would have pushed yourself even further if today's events hadn't unfolded.

"Hey," Arthur looked up as Morien stood next to him, their eyes filled with tiredness. "Don't you blame yourself. No one is at fault."

"But I..." Arthur began, feeling responsible for not noticing the symptoms. He had failed.

Morien interrupted him sharply. "MC has never shown any of these signs before. It's reasonable for us not to have known. Besides, it's clear that they never wanted anyone to find out. And when someone intends to hide something, the whole world wouldn't even blink an eye to learn why."

Ah, there it was again. Arthur couldn't help but be amazed. "You know... I often wonder how you can be so sharp yet so gentle at the same time. No offense."

"None taken," Morien replied. "When you have to attend to multiple injuries at least five times a day, you get used to it. Honestly, this hasn't been my worst experience."

"I'm glad I'm not on that side, then," Arthur admitted.

There was a moment of silence before Arthur spoke again.

"Is there any way we can help them?"

Morien shrugged, sighing as they held their cane tightly. "I'll try to find more information. There's no record of this condition. I only know about it because my old mentor once had a patient with similar habits."

"Take your time. By the way," Arthur paused, realizing something odd, "investigate the Count family. Something seems off."

"I'll inform Kai to look into it. Make sure to call me as soon as MC wakes up," Morien said, ready to take action.

"I will, Morien." Arthur gently kissed your fingers, hoping that one day you would trust him enough to share your story. "I will."

---

Arthur had never felt so frustrated before. He had never experienced such overwhelming anger before.

Despite knowing deep down that he shouldn't blame himself, he couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for not noticing sooner. However, he was aware that you wouldn't blame him either. In fact, you would be there for him, providing comfort as you let him knows that you're healing.

And so, he remained steadfastly by your side, refusing to be separated from you. Others knew better than to approach him during this time, except for Evaine. He made sure that Arthur to take a break and have a few bites of Yniol's homemade sandwiches and hot cocoa, all while keeping a watchful eye on you.

For three days and nights, both Arthur and Evaine stood vigil by your bedside, patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. As the moon began to descend on the fourth night, you finally opened your eyes.

Arthur couldn't believe what he was seeing. There you stood, gazing out the window at the garden below, absentmindedly pacing around the room. The moment you noticed him, he rushed to pull you into his arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. You were real. You were awake. And you were in his embrace.

His hands trembled as they held onto you, the intensity of his emotions making it difficult for him to find stability. The tremors ceased only when your fingers intertwined with his. No words were exchanged; you both simply basked in each other's presence, finding solace in the silent connection that enveloped you.

Only when you pulled your hands away did the silence break, and you began to communicate through signs. Your eyes held a mixture of apology and fear, as if you were worried about revealing the details of what had happened to you, afraid that it might frighten or disturb him.

That won't do.

"About what happened, I'm sorry that I messed it all...!" you began, but Arthur swiftly interrupted, refusing to let the rest of the words escape your lips.

He firmly grasped your hips, pressing your back against the wall as he kissed you passionately. In that moment, he made a silent promise to himself to nourish and care for you. Slowly but surely, he would help you regain your strength.

When he realized that you were too weak for any further intimacy, he immediately stopped, concern replacing the smirk that had adorned his face. He tenderly kissed your forehead, showering you with affectionate gestures.

"Never apologize," Arthur whispered, his voice filled with sincerity as he continued to caress you gently. "Don't ever apologize for things that were beyond your control."

He then scooped you up into his arms, cradling you securely, and carried you out of the room that you had shared. As you nestled comfortably against his chest, he whispered his plans.

"Let's get you something to eat. Don't worry, it won't be too much, just a few quick bites. And afterward, we can talk if you want. But for now, let me take care of you. My love."

[sorenevans]

can we just talk about the song "Inkpot Gods" for a minute?

while I am 100% sure I am interpreting this song wrong I really don't care.

let me show you my vision-

(listen while you read- it makes more sense.)

There's a young girl- about 10-11 years old. She's probably been through a lot. and she tries not to cry because she thinks that is a sign of weakness, but a man who was supposed to care for this girl originally, but was so scared too he never really tried- POTENTIALLY A FATHER FIGURE, MAYBE EVEN HER ACTUAL FATHER- tells her that it's ok to cry, and to not worry about the other kids laughing at her because she's just learning how to fight for herself.

Oh, what? These, these aren't tears It's just the rain that wasn't brave enough to fall And what they hear isn't laughter, after all It's just your voice learning for once to stand up tall

that same man wants to keep her safe, and that's exactly what he does. he vows to stay by her side and train her until she can fight the monsters of this world without his help. he sees her for more than her scars, more than her marking, more than anything superficial. he sees her for her. he sees her the way his father never saw him. He vows to never be like his father. He wants to be present in this young girl's life, he wants to be the father she doesn't and he never had.

And when the rain came down I made a vow out to the dark "Please, let her live just one more day Cause she is so much more than all her scars And if she doesn't have the will But it seems the whole world does, I'll stay, because I will be the man my father never was"

this man knew her mother before she died. she brings it up to the man when she turns 15 so that she can get the letters from her mom that the man had been keeping safe. the last letter written very hastily written read these lyrics. \/ The girl asked the man and he said that her mother was always singing.

And what you hear is not silence It's just the trees waiting to hear what next you'll hum

She also wrote in these letters that she was never truly alone that she had the man and the darkness was only there so she could appreciate the light in her life, it was only there to discourage her in her quests. but her mother also wrote not to let the darkness stop her and that those who made her life dark only did so to hurt her.

And what you see is not the dark It's just the gods upturning ink pots 'cause they know what you'll become

And she wrote a letter to those powers holding her daughter back.

And to those gods, I will speak bluntly "We've an accord, if you ever touch or harm her Please, rest assured that you might not fear a man But to a woman, by the end, you'll kneel and plea

and her mother writes one last thing. telling the girl how her mother always told her to look out only for herself. but after having a child she couldn't imagine not gladly dying for her. this child was her life.

'Cause I'm more than what my mum told me to be"

She's 17 now. fighting her own battles, and she's doing well until one day she's not. She is struggling- SHE'S LOSING. She's overwhelmed and OUTNUMBERED AND SCARED! The man wants nothing more than to help, but after all this time he's become old and frail and unable to fight like he used to. he can see her fighting. he can see her trying. he sees her fall. He can't watch anymore. he's fully overwhelmed by that feeling of helplessness.

And I can hear her sing And I know she's giving up And I don't know what to do, how to help her How to bring her home

and she sees the man, no- her father- she knew he saw her fall. She knows he's seeing her lose. She can feel the waves of emotion. she was so scared for him. She craved independence but right now she just wants to hug him- but this is her quest and only hers.

And I can hear him break And he doesn't understand And I wish that I could take his hand But where I'm going is for me and me alone

the man sees a letter sitting on the table. the girl had left it there. for in case she didn't make it back. It's been hours, and he didn't want to admit she could be dead, but he could see no other outcome. he opened the letter. and reads it over and over and over. he can practically hear her singing it.

And I can her sing "If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along" "If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along" "If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along" "If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along" (loved you all along)

He sits in a chair facing the battle scene, where he watches something emerging from the horizon. he tucks the letter neatly away and walks out to meet the girl. she won. She won so she could come back to him. her father- the one who was always there for her, the one who taught her about her mother- the one who loved her unconditionally, and she, him.

If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Испуганный

In the low hum of the barracks' common room, Vaz Beloi was nursing a glass of vodka that had seen more refills than he cared to count. The room, lit by the flickering lights that struggled against the ever-present gloom of military life, provided a backdrop more fitting for confessions than celebrations. Across from him, a fellow ODST, Jenkins, was pretending to be more interested in his drink than the conversation, a tactful witness to Vaz's unraveling.

"You know," Vaz started, his Russian accent thickening with each sip of the alcohol, "I love her. God knows, I do. But man, there's this part of me that's just... pissing its pants, you know?" He chuckled, but it was hollow, the sound of a man trying to make light of his own dread.

Jenkins, a burly man with a scar running down the side of his face like a misplaced seam, raised an eyebrow. "Naomi, right? Your Spartan?" he ventured, already knowing the answer.

"Da, Naomi. She's not just any Spartan. She's a damn one-woman army," Vaz sighed, swirling the vodka in his glass as if it held the answers. "I've seen her in action, man. It's like watching death dance. And at night, when she's lying next to me, all I can think about is how those hands, the very ones I hold, have snuffed out so many lives."

Jenkins nodded, silent. What was there to say? Everyone knew the legends of the Spartans, but hearing it from someone who shared a bed with one was different, more real.

"It's like being in love with a hurricane, you know? She's beautiful, powerful, but damn if there isn't a part of you that's terrified of being swept away," Vaz continued, the words spilling out with an honesty born of desperation.

Unbeknownst to both men, Naomi had entered the common area, intending to surprise Vaz. But instead of a warm greeting, she was met with his fears laid bare. She paused in the doorway, a silent specter, as Vaz's words struck her like physical blows. The tears came then, unbidden, a testament to the raw pain that sliced through her heart.

Back at the table, Vaz was oblivious to the storm he had unwittingly unleashed. It wasn't until he turned, seeking another bottle, that he caught a glimpse of Naomi's retreating form. Panic, sharp and sudden, cut through the haze of alcohol. "Naomi!" he called, but she was already gone, her departure as silent as her arrival.

He found her later, in the small, Spartan (in more ways than one) room they shared. Naomi was sitting on the edge of their bed, her posture defeated, her body racked with sobs. The sight of such vulnerability in someone so powerful struck Vaz to his core.

"Naomi, I... Shit, I didn't mean for you to hear that," he stammered, the words clumsy in his mouth.

"You're right, though," she managed between sobs, her voice raw. "I am a monster."

"Hey, no. Look at me, Nomi," Vaz urged, sitting beside her and tilting her chin up so their eyes met. "I was being an ass, okay? Drunk and stupid. You're not just some... some war machine to me. You're this incredible, terrifying force, sure. But you're also the woman who laughs at my shitty jokes, who gets teary-eyed over old movies. I screwed up, malishka. I'm sorry."

Naomi's gaze held his, searching, vulnerable. "Do you really mean that?" she asked, her voice a whisper of hope and hurt.

"Yeah, I do. God, Naomi, I'm scared because I love you so damn much. Not because of what you can do to others, but because of what losing you would do to me," Vaz confessed, his heart laid bare in the dim light of their room.

They embraced then, a tangle of arms and whispered promises, as the fears and doubts receded into the background. It was a moment of raw honesty, of two people grappling with the complexities of love in a world that was anything but simple. For Vaz and Naomi, it wasn't just about weathering the storm; it was about finding the courage to dance in the rain.

@makowrites, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @empresskadia.

[boobblog]

The In Between

It was a dark and stormy night, just kidding, but seriously. The storm just wasn't outside, it was in me. Insert feelings here, all of them, at the same time. The time from diagnosis to surgery is a journey. But not a cute one. I would compare this to Frodo climbing Mordor, everyday, from the bottom. Some days he gets further than others, but he always ends up back on his ass looking up at the big scary thing, intimidated, and scared to death. Not figuratively either...

There's a song by Phoebe Star, Lavendar Scars. It's hauntingly beautiful, and one of the lyrics is about the depths of despair. If I had a way of describing my mood during this time, this sums it up.

This is where my trauma comes into play...y'all still won't get the whole tea though. I'm not interested in destroying some of y'alls reality.

The problem for me is that my brain lacks specific chemicals to properly file away memories, this means I have an unrealistic view of situations at times. Knowing I cannot trust my thoughts at all times has been a struggle on it's own. I'm incredibly smart, not to brag, but objectively, so I compensated and created a safety net of sorts. It tells me when I'm safe and keeps me from doing certain things it thinks will be harmful. Unfortunately, the trauma I have experienced came from the hands of people. People I trusted. So how do you learn to trust strangers charged with making sure you don't die?

You give up.

I don't give up. I have been placed in a car and told to drive across the country with my kid and 3 suitcases, and I still fought. Because at the time I thought it was the right thing to do. But I didn't have a choice and was forced to start over. Again. I did it though, and did it well. I could give it all up everyday for the rest of my life and never feel an ounce of regret. Having nothing allowed me to see how much I really have. And it was so much more than just love.

Sorry, I like talking about my story, it made me. I really didn't start living until we came to Dallas. This was the story I was writing, for me and by me. I stepped into my authenticity and was truly working on just being happy right now.

Back on track- I practice mindfulness daily. For those of you lucky enough to know Luke you will remember his manic phase when he was following Ram Dass's teachings. I picked this up during that period and promptly tossed everything else. However, there is something there. Being present in the here and now and remembering to breathe sounds so simple, but it is quite possibly the hardest thing I've ever done. Anytime someone is asking for tips and tricks to relax I recommend looking up Mooji on YouTube. His guided meditations, along with his buttery voice touches the most wounded parts of me. Even if it is for a second. Seriously, go look him up, I'll wait.

I've had those gems in my pocket for years, but when I needed them, when I was drowning in my thoughts and tears, I had nothing. Nothing anyone said helped, I couldn't nurse brain this one away. One morning, I say morning but it was 2 am, I was up watching Big Bang (I'll fight you, this show is great) and was laughing. In that moment, I gave up. Surrendered if you will, but to myself. I let go of the reigns and CHOSE to trust the team I was given. Now all I had to do was just show up, and wake up.

I hadn't laughed in weeks. Everyday was the same, wake up, am I crying, yes, stay home. Not crying try to go to work. If I wasn't trying to keep my job I was at another appointment. Labs, MRI's, CT's, Bone Scans, Radiation Oncologist, Medical Oncologist, Breast Specialist, SO MANY APPOINTMENTS.

It was during this period that I learned my staging and prognosis. My breast specialist is the tiniest woman with the most commanding presence. She walked into the room directly to me, took my hands and said, and I quote: " Hey there survivor, this is small and curable, no big deal." What an odd thing to say first, but she's awesome and I'm the worst with words, so what do I know? She told us I was stage 1a, would need surgery and possibly radiation. We had a few good days after this. Things suddenly felt doable.

Then my imaging results came back.

Another break check moment. Bitchhhhhh that boob dude doubled in size in less than 2 weeks, spit out 2 other smaller confirmed carcinomas and grew a nest of calcifications around the OG. It was insulating itself. This changed my diagnosis and treatment plan drastically. I have cancer, cancer.

Luckily, I'm a pro at having the rug pulled out from under me by now. However, I never notice that's what is happening until after all the snot and tears.

My poor boy. He wasn't lasting 10 minutes at school without worrying and having a full blown panic attack. Everyday. He couldn't be away from me. Luke found a hidden superpower to pick up all of our pieces and just hold them. He held them until we were ready to put them back together, as a family.

Here comes the masking, fake smiles, and false reasurrance. Ugh, that feels so fake. But it was neccessary. My boy needed hope, and I didn't have any to offer him. So I faked it. Damnit, if I didn't start to feel better too. Placebo effect, maybe. Who knows? I didn't want to kill myself, so I took off running with it. Hope is thrown around way to easily.

When my grandmother was missing (told y'all, TRAUMA) all anyone said was stay hopeful, keep the faith. But what happens when you never had hope and faith to begin with? So this time, when I'm being told the same thing, just about my cancer, it felt played out. It felt like an inappropriate response to say TO ME about me. You keep the faith, you keep hoping for the best. I'm still wrapping my mind around the fact that everything that makes me a woman will be gone, and if I choose to not follow through with the treatment plan, I WILL DIE. Those are the options you are given.

Let's stop here. I had therapy the other day, after my mastectomy, and made some revelations about what makes me a woman, and whooooo buddy it's not boobs and a uterus.

[yellowgreendinno]

Just like old times:

I was thinking about all of the things I imagine at like, 3am, so here it goes! It's when they're young... I saw a small scene of these characters together at some point and thought, how did they meet?

(I highly recommend listening to the said songs of Taylor Swift)

Nozel: 14

Jack: 13

Charlotte: 12 (Luck: 2)

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Song: exile

I think I've seen this film before, so I'm leaving out the side door...

Charlotte woke up to the sound of a child crying. She looked around her room, dimly lit by a candle, confused. This wasn't the Roselei mannor... was it?

Oh, right..., she thought, this is Yvon, she remembered when she looked at her step-mother's sleeping form beside her.

She had been staying with Adua and her son, Luck, for a while. To be more specific, since she found out her Father had cheated, so, about three months. And over those three months, she saw Adua was not meant to be a mother.

She slowly lifted the old duvet from her small frame, and tip toed around the room to find Luck's crib. His cries ceased as his sister came into sight. Charlotte's eyes lit up and she smiled, as the little blonde boy reached his arms out for her to pick him up.

As she cradled Luck in her arms, Charlotte walked outside the room and sat him on the table while she went back to the room to get a bag, and packed some essentials: her clothes, Luck's, their coats, and Adua's blue old sleep shirt (she surely wouldn't miss it), Luck would always cling to its sleeves. She closed the door in hopes of not waking the woman up, and walked back to the living room.

She picked Luck up, and, with her bags, walked put of the house, into the night. She was headed for the closest beach.

They were on their own now.

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Song: Willow

Life was a willow and it banged right to your window...

Nozel was outside the Silva Estate, deep into the forest, a normal thing to happen late at night, or early in the morning. Acier knew of his whereabouts, she would often see him walking outside the castle, or coming back mid-morning.

But she was no longer there...

So, it wasn't surprising that he ended up in the dark heart of the woods. He wasn't scared, he had his magic to protect him.

As he walked through the woods, he looked at the trees he knew so well. Dark bark, strong branches and dark leaves were dull compared to his save heaven. He made his way through the mist to a big willow tree. Its leaves were a light green, almost golden, hanging down like tears from the branches. The mist had left behind a trail of dampness and droplets on the leaves and trunk, making it easier to imagine the tree was shedding tears.

As if it understood Nozel's pain.

The silver-haired boy climbed the tree, in a route he had memorised long ago, leaning on branches and small holes to reach that one branch that accompanied him so many times in his sorrow. He finally sat down on the branch, other small ones making it easier to lean back.

He overlooked the misty forest, the moon shining dimly through the fog. He could still see the Silva Castle over a distant hill. Was the Weeping Willow that far away from home? he asked himself. He started to shake. He put his head between his hands and started to cry,

Over his mother,

over his absent father,

over his jealousy of stupid Fuegoleon and his stupid perfect family,

over how Solid hated Noelle,

over how he heard Nebra's muffled sobs at night,

over how unfair life was to his family.

Then, he heard it.

"Are you okay?"

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Song: cardigan

You drew stars around my scars, but now I'm bleeding...

Jack didn't know what to feel. He was confused, scared, sad, angry.

Confused; why did they do it? scared; did they feel that way about me? sad; I thought they cared about me... angry; do they really think I would do it on purpose?

It slowly came to his senses that his home was not his home anymore. The beach side town he used to call home didn't want him anymore. All because of that small accident.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that small, but still.

As he walked beside the shore, he looked at the view. The waves were soft, and the sky was tainted peach pink, signalling the rising of the sun. He looked down to his wet feet on the sand, little droplets of blood falling onto it.

He had to get to a hospital, quickly. It was that, or loosing his eye. His strength was running out, and the gush on his face was pretty bad.

Was he really that bad?

As he was about to fall on the sand, two pairs of arms caught him, and lay him on a warm blanket placed on the grass. He could hear their voices talk, and a child cry as well. Probably scared of the deep wound.

"We need to take him to a hospital. Now." a female voice said with urgency.

"He wouldn't make it to the closest hospital. I can treat him." Said a calm, deeper voice. "Hey, this is going to hurt" Jack could faintly recognise the boy's accent as a way higher class. Royalty, maybe?

He heard the girl speak again, to calm down the baby, and then spoke to him.

"What's your name? I'm Charlotte, he's Nozel" In between the pain of the needle piercing his skin to close the wound, he managed to let out a faint whisper of his name.

The boy, who he assumed was Nozel, asked him again; "Jack what?"

He hesitated. He actually didn't know. He had been called "Ripper" all his life, so he answered carefully. "I don't know. They always called me Jack the Ripper because of my slash magic. How about you?"

"I'm Charlotte Ro- Voltia". Jack decided he would ask her about that slip later. "I'm Nozel Silva" So, he was right. A royal snob.

When Nozel was done, he and his companion asked him if he wanted to go with them.

Obviously, he said yes.

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

(Thirteen years later)

Song: happiness

There'll be happiness after me, but there was happiness because of me...

It was the magic knights exam, and a certain candidate had awoken the interest of a crowd. He was a strange mage, it was like he only wanted to fight. Most teenagers found him scary.

Now known as the Cheery Berserker, Luck Voltia had come out as a strange boy; and the eyes of three captains never left him during the exam. However, when the time came, neither of them rose their hand.

"The Black Bulls"

Charlotte looked at Yami, a tint of blush on her face, though her heart swelled with sadness.

When the exam was over, she walked out the first, followed closely behind by Nozel and Jack. The streets were empty, the wetness of the rain from a few hours ago was still on the stone floor. The streetlights were dimly lit by candles, and almost every pub was closed. She fell on the edge of the pavement, her head buried in between her hands.

Nozel and Jack came shortly after. Nozel was the first one to sit down with her, and pulled Charlotte in a deep hug. Jack had sat down as well. He muttered the words able to put a small smile on Nozel's face.

"The kid did grow up"

As they all smiled, they heard a faint voice, loud but distant.

"Captain Yami, hold on a second, please! I have to say goodbye to someone!" A boy said. The three turned around to the sound of the boy's close voice.

"Hi, Charlie"

"Hi, Luck"