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skyward-floored · 27 days ago

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Whumptober Day 27 - Voiceless, “I have no mouth and I must scream”

I feel like I’ve been mean to Wind a lot heh, I feel bad for the little guy. It’s better than the three arrows I put in his chest in that other fic! ...Maybe, anyway.

Warnings: redeads

Ao3 link

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Wind was not happy.

He struggled and kicked, tried to squirm out of the bruising hold on his arms, went limp and tried to just give the two soldiers dragging him along some underground passageway as worse of a time as possible. They’d already taken his weapons and only held him tighter as he struggled, but Wind kept it up anyway.

One of the Yiga grumbled in annoyance as Wind kicked at his legs, and he felt a glint of satisfaction.

“Rotten kid, that attitude will die plenty quick where you’re going,” the other Yiga snapped, ignoring Wind’s attempts to bite him. “This cell was for the hero, but what better way to lure him there than to dump his little brother in it first?”

“You built a cell underneath the outskirts of a village? Wow, that’s normal well-adjusted behavior,” Wind huffed, and one Yiga sneered.

��We merely adapted it for our purposes. And you’re the perfect person to test it out.”

Wind finally managed to clamp his jaws down on one of the soldier’s hands, and he yelled, gloves not thick enough to really protect him. The other one snatched at Wind and put a dagger to his throat before he could press his attack, and Wind reluctantly released the hand, getting the message.

“Link’ll never fall for your stupid trap anyway,” Wind said with a glare, and the Yiga both chuckled.

“Oh yes he will. Have fun, kid.”

A door was opened, and Wind was tossed through without any sort of fanfare, stumbling as he landed. He whirled back around to the door, but it was already closed and firmly locked.

Wind scowled at it, then turned to look around his prison, mind already turning towards thoughts of escape. Who did these Yiga guys think they were, kidnapping him off the street? He was the Hero of Winds! How had they even gotten the drop on him?

Wind scowled again and kicked at the floor of the cell. At least he’d been walking around with Four and Wild. Surely one of them would notice he was missing soon. And if not, well, Wind was pretty good at getting out of tight spots if he did say so himself.

No problem.

Wind put his hands on his hips, looking around the dark cell. There was a single tiny torch hung up on the wall, too high for Wind to reach that lit up the skinny space. A stone wall stood at the far end of the cell, but the two sides were open bars, darkness yawning beyond them.

It... kinda made his skin crawl.

Wind crossed his arms, feeling cold all of a sudden, but he shrugged it off with a huff. He needed to figure out how to get out of here, creepy darkness or not. The deep shadows beyond the bars suggested a bigger area, so if he could just find a loose one, he’d be set. Maybe he could even climb up and grab the torch.

Wind walked over to a side, starting at one end and giving each bar a solid shake. They seemed pretty firmly in the ground, but Wind worked his way across anyway, hoping for a loose one. He got all the way through without a single loose bar, and sighed, crossing to the other side to try there instead.

He’d gotten about halfway when he heard something, creaky and quiet.

Wind froze, listening, and the hair on the back of his neck went up as he heard it again. That noise was familiar. He couldn’t place it, but he knew it was familiar.

And that it was bad news.

A low moan came from somewhere in the darkness, and Wind slowly began to back away, nerves all alight. If he could just see he wouldn’t be nearly as nervous. Maybe the darkness was just freaking him out, and he was imagining noises because of that?

A bloodcurdling scream rang out, and Wind’s eyes went huge as a familiar sensation wracked through him, deathly cold and terrifying.

Oh no, he thought in a panic, his feet frozen to the floor, body unable to turn away from the shambling footsteps he could hear. Oh no oh no oh—

A face appeared in the flickering light of the torch, decaying and horrible, eyes glowing. A rotten hand stretched forward and wrapped around the bars, and Wind stared at the Redead, trapped in its unnatural terror.

It didn’t look like his version of them, taller, with a few ragged clothes on its lanky body, but the feeling it left him with was the same, sheer, unnatural terror.

I’ve got to get away, maybe by the door I’ll be far enough it won’t be able to—

A different scream rang out, sending another jolt through Wind’s chest, and he watched in horror as another redead grasped at the bars, reaching out to him, trying to pull him close. Beady eyes stared at him, glowing and malicious with hunger, and Wind might have whimpered if he could move his mouth.

He fought the paralysis as much as he could, but the moment it started to wear off, one of them screamed again, leaving Wind with no escape. More screams joined the first two, and Wind choked on his breath as a whole group of redeads shambled out of the darkness. Screams came near constantly from their lips as they grabbed at the bars and reached through, trying to get at him.

They can’t get through, they can’t get through they can’t hurt you, it’s just to scare you, Wind thought frantically, heart drumming in his chest. They don’t want you to escape that’s why they put them there you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay.

The screams just kept coming, endless and piercing and shooting Wind’s heart through with inescapable terror. He couldn’t even move to cover his ears, and he felt a terrified scream build in his own throat.

But it wouldn’t come out. Wind could only keep standing there, immobilized, tears trailing silently down his cheeks.

It felt like his heart was being encased in ice, frost shooting through his veins with every scream and grazing touch. More screams joined the agonizing chorus from behind him, and the terror felt like it would crush him, repeatedly crashing over him like a freezing wave.

Hands grabbed at him, nails grazing his skin. Wind couldn’t move, the torrential screams hammering at him, cracking him, filling him up with so much terror his mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

His world narrowed down to screams and beady eyes, Wind drowning in terror, eyes darting around wildly, mind screaming every time a hand grazed him.

If he could move he’d be curled up on the ground, but all he could do was stand here and sob in his mind as a deathly cold hand finally closed around his wrist.

Then a different noise rang out over the screams.

It was garbled in Wind’s ears, some sort of talking he couldn’t make out over the redeads’ shrieks. But suddenly music poured into the cell, cheery and bright, and the screaming stopped.

All of it.

Wind’s ears still rang with them, and the terror still pressed over him like a wet blanket, but there was finally silence, and the hand trying to drag Wind closer to the bars had stopped in its efforts, the redead’s mouth stuck open with its teeth bared.

Wind would’ve sobbed if he could move, and he heard footsteps and talking, his ears still ringing too much to make out. Strong arms pulled the hand off his wrist and cradled him to a chest, shouted something at the other sets of footsteps. The song trilled again, bright and warm, and though Wind still couldn’t do much as twitch his pinky, some of his panic eased as he felt a steady heartbeat against where his ear rested.

The others were here.

There must have been a trip out, but Wind missed most of it, still trapped in the lingering screams he could hear in his mind. Tears trickled steadily down his cheeks, and past the unnaturally sharp fear was a flicker of annoyance at crying so much.

But the terror mostly blotted it out.

Sunshine finally fell onto his face, warm and soft, and whoever was holding Wind lowered themselves to a knee. A face looked down at him, and Wind saw Twilight, eyes fearful.

“Hey Wind, you alright?” he asked, and Wind could only stare at him, heart pounding, terror still clenching like a talon around him. “Wind?”

“Is he okay?” someone else asked, and Twilight leaned back, Time and Wild’s faces both coming into view next.

“He’s not responding,” Twilight replied, and Time leaned in, studying Wind’s face with a worried look.

“Wind, can you hear me?” Time asked, setting a hand on his chest.

I can hear you fine, I just can’t move! Wind wanted to scream, but his mouth was still frozen shut. The only thing that he was still able to do was cry, apparently.

Time gently wiped his tears away, and if Wind wasn’t still so terrified, he was sure he’d be embarrassed. “Do we know how long he was down there?”

“An hour, hour and a half? No more than two based on when we started looking,” a voice Wind placed as Wild added anxiously. Oh good, he avoided the trap. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a long time to be around an attacking redead, no less dozens of them like he was,” Time replied, gently tilting Wind’s head around as he looked at it. “Usually the song fixes things, I have no idea why he’s still frozen like this.”

“Prolonged exposure I’d guess,” Four’s voice added, and Twilight’s hand combed gently through his hair. “It might just take him longer to break out of it. He’s so cold...”

“I still can’t believe we lost sight of him like that,” Wild said quietly, and a different hand touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wind.”

Oh Wild, it’s not your fault, Wind thought, trying to look the champion in the eye and convey the sentiment. I’d tell you so if I could.

Some more footsteps pounded against the grass suddenly, and the amount of voices around Wind doubled, more faces leaning over to look at him, worried questions floating over his head. The other Links had obviously joined the group, and Wind struggled even harder against the paralysis making him nothing but deadweight. But he remained as frozen as ever, a scream still stuck in his throat, ice around his heart.

“Give him space, I’m pretty sure he’s aware of what’s going on and you all are crowding him,” Warriors’ voice chided, and the majority of heads pulled back from his view. The captain’s face appeared in his line of sight, full of worry. “Wind? Can you move anything? Even just something small?”

Wind started at his feet and worked his way upward this time, trying to move anything he could. Fear still thrummed through him, his body on high alert, tears tracking down his cheeks, but he finally managed to twitch his eyelids a little.

“Hey, there we go,” Warriors said with relief in his eyes. “Can you do it again?”

Wind focused, managing another twitch, and almost did a full blink when he tried again. Warriors’ face was still worried, but he looked encouraged by even the tiny movement.

“Here, let me see if this helps some more,” Time said then, and Twilight shifted Wind around in his arms so his head was a little more upright.

Time pulled out his ocarina, purplish blue in the sunshine, and he played the trilling song again, the one Wind finally recognized as the song of passing. Time played it through a couple times, magic falling over Wind like a beam of sunlight. He was surprised the time of day itself didn’t change, but maybe Time was stopping it from doing that somehow.

Suddenly the magic loosened something inside him, the icy terror cracking, thawing a little. Some feeling swept back into his body, and the scream that had been stuck in Wind’s throat this whole time suddenly burst out, loud and terrified.

Time immediately stopped playing, and Wind began to tremble as feeling slowly spread to the rest of him, his scream ending in a hiccup. It felt amazing to finally give voice to the horrible coldness in him, and Wind barely noticed when a thumb brushed along his cheek.

“Wind?” Time asked quietly, and Wind breathed in a shaking breath, firmly blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Th-thank, tha-ank y-you,” he managed get out in a miserable-sounding whimper.

Sighs of relief went up around him, and Time gave Wind a smile, even with the way Wind was shaking and still unable to stop the tears from escaping his eyes.

“You’re welcome Sailor,” Time replied, and brushed a few more of his tears away.

Wind managed a shaky smile back, then relaxed into Twilight’s arms, more and more of the ice in his chest melting away into bright sunshine.

#day 13 continuation tomorrow (or next anyway. might not be tomorrow)#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu time #fic #whumptober #whumptober 2024 #no.27 #voiceless #i have no mouth and i must scream #writing from the floor #another one dowwwwn #I’m excited for 28 and 29!#...I also don’t have particular plans for 30 or 31 lol so we’ll see about those #maybe ill give in and do something with an oc Link

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hotheadedhero · 8 months ago

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All That's Left

There's routine and there's getting used to change. Some are quickly adaptable but, depending on the circumstance, it isn't always that easy.

Leonardo x Reader

Warning: angst

Being a ninja has its perks: one can evade the eyes of man whilst making way to their destination. However, even with such skill, moving through the night is more optimum, especially for Leonardo. Shifting over buildings and hiding around dumpsters is one thing but more open areas are difficult to navigate whilst adhering to the element of stealth. Luckily, the elements are in his favour: the downpour of rain shielding him by both sound and sight. He isn’t typically one to go to such lengths to get to one place unless it’s in the name of a mission but this has become a routine as of late. He does it as frequently as he can given his circumstances but it never feels as though it makes up for all of that lost time. By now, he knows this path like the back of his hand: sneak past ground watch, jump over the gate, and take the fifth walkway from the left. A few more paces and he’s made it. His observance is dim but his lips pull as best as they can at her sleeping form.

"Hey," he greets quietly. "Sorry, it’s been a few days since my last visit."

Despite the blank, paling face that stares back at him, his smile remains. He lays the flowers down and kneels before her.

"I would have brought everyone else with me but I decided to be a bit selfish today. Just the two of us. I hope that’s okay.”

Again, silence follows and he readjusts his sitting position to get comfortable.

"Things have been quiet lately," he continues, his eyes absentmindedly gazing over her bed. "I'd say it's a nice change but I wouldn’t mind the distraction."

He huffs a laugh and his head cranes towards his shoulder before straightening again. The gentle pierce of his brown stare wanders over the rest of the cold space that surrounds them. Despite having come here for the last two months, there’s still something new to look at. He remembers when he first heard of this being her new residence and how long it took to adjust. Often, he still finds himself heading towards her old apartment out of muscle memory.

"I know it probably sounds like a broken record at this point but everyone misses you. I… miss you.”

There’s a grasp on his throat, a squeeze that only tightens the more he tries to fight it. He swallows past the restriction, mouth dry, tongue suddenly alien to him. Just keep a level head. This isn’t anything new by now. His cheeks cave in against the deep intake of air.

"There's a lot I should have said when I had the chance," he whispers hoarsely, though no words follow in this empty promise of rectification.

He can’t do it. His eyes clamp shut with his lips, firmly pressed to hold back the internal incursion. He can't even bring himself to say it: what he wants to say; what he's wanted to say for so many years. There's no point knowing that he'll never get an answer. His fingers dig into the sodden ground, pulling away the strands of grass that have only just begun to grow above her. It breaks beneath his palms and sullies the very hands that tremble under his hunched body. He should remain composed. He shouldn’t fall apart like this. Is it not he who should be able to think straight during dire circumstances such as this? Be the voice of reason? For his family but not himself it seems. Not right now.

With a heavy, laboured breath, his head pries upward to meet her grey face once more. The carved letters of her name stare back at him, dowsed in rain and he can only hope, wherever her spirit may be, that she isn’t crying for him. He doesn’t deserve her tears. He was in South America saving all of those people when he should have been here to save her. If he had come home when he was supposed to, this never would have happened. Leonardo and his brothers would have been back doing patrol before any of this could become a reality. She would still be alive. She would still be with him. He took her for granted and now he’s paying the ultimate price.

“I thought I might find you here,” a voice calls out to him.

A familiar voice. Not the one he’d be wishing for but a welcome one nonetheless. He tears his gaze away from the gravestone to be met by his friend April, who kneels beside him. She tilts her umbrella so that he may be sheltered too and together they sit quietly. Rain is their only comfort with this mutual understanding of unrest in the air. There isn’t anything that can be said to make better of this; nothing that hasn’t already been repeated countless times.

With the clouds readying their part for day’s oncoming dawn, April takes her stand and outstretches a hand to her friend. He waves his muddied fingers with a pathetic attempt at a laugh and rises lethargically.

“Come on. You can’t hold onto this guilt forever, Leo,” she reminds him, just as everyone has been since his return. “She’d want you to let go.”

He's not sure he'll ever be able to rest on that idea. Not until he learns how to say goodbye, at least - the last word he had said to her so carelessly, not realising it would indeed be goodbye.

This is something shorter and a bit different but an idea that would not leave for the life of me. Hope you enjoyed!

#angst #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2007 #2007 leo #leonardo #leo #leonardo x reader #x reader #fem reader #3rd pov #sad #fanfiction #no use of y/n

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blinddreams24 · 7 months ago

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Marine Biologist

A Mermay Prompt

(Note: please forgive me if I incorrectly write diving. I’ve never gone diving before so you’ll have to bare with me)

Masterlist

Weightlessness. Peace.

You drifted lazily between the boulders riddled with coral and a few fish darted between the colorful plant life. You hummed out a couple bubbles, imitating the deep breath you couldn’t take while submerged. No oxygen tank this time, just a snorkel, you weren’t going that deep anyways.

The current pushed gently at you, trying to coax you out into deeper waters. You would not be fooled. The ocean was a terrifyingly dangerous place, one wrong stroke and you’d be swept out into the middle of the ocean with nothing but a snorkel. Bad idea. You could go deeper when you had the right equipment and company. For now, you were studying how the coral was adapting to its environment.

Something… big moved.

In all your years in the water, you prided yourself on being the most observant when it came to water pressure and currents. You could locate most of your fellow coworkers when you all would briefly spit up. Something about the awkward way they shifted the water always tipped you off. Fish, being naturally adapted to the water, were far harder to locate. Which made sense. They had to hide, whether predator or prey. It just came natural to them.

However, sometimes, something big enough would move too quickly and you’d notice it. This helped you warn your team of sharks and barracudas in the past.

And there was something big.

Behind you.

You spun around as fast as you could without startling an attack, which was much slower than you would like. Your eyes fell on… nothing. Just a few anemones and a school of fish quickly darting out of sight. Maybe the school set off your senses?

Something white vanished behind a boulder.

White? There weren’t any white aquatic creatures in your area. Your brows knit. It could be trash. Ugh. Why couldn’t people clean up after themselves?

A few gentle kicks sent you over the rock to find the stray bit of trash when a muffled scream and a flurry of bubbles blinded you. You yelped out a few bubbles yourself as you desperately tried to backpedal in water. Whatever it was, and it was huge, darted around you and went for your back. There wasn’t much you could do but try to spin to defend yourself before your arms were wrapped up in a hug from behind.

What in the drunken stars?!

You thrashed in the hold of this creature. What was it? A person? A fish? Some sketchy internet cryptid come to life here to take yours? Or worse… a giant cuttlefish? You shuddered. Hopefully, whatever it was would at least leave you alive. Not that that outcome was looking too likely.

Water pushed your snorkel to the side as you slowly realized you were moving. It was taking you somewhere. Where, you couldn’t tell. Every time you tried to look forward or up, something hard would push your head from behind so you couldn’t see.

You tried to growl out a warning and noticed just how much air you had left. Your eyes widened. You needed air. Fast.

Your useless flippered feet tried to kick behind you but you could barely move them at this speed. Your captor was a far better swimmer than you.

Light glanced off your goggles and into your eyes moments before a loud splash drenched you in air. You gasped and drank in the air before turning you attention back to escaping your captor.

You started thrashing again and screamed.

A skeletal hand clamped down on your mouth.

“Shh! You’re gonna get us both killed!” Whisper-snapped a breathless, masculine voice in your ear. His chest heaved gently as he tried to calm himself and you at the same time. He’d taken you to a cliff side shallow beach that would be completely submerged come tide. Not many people knew this little alcove beside you and you’d hoped to keep it that way.

“Mph!” You retorted. If he wanted you calm he shouldn’t have kidnapped you across the reef! You were… half a mile from your car!

“Ah. I’m sorry. I’m not used to… people….” His grip loosened. “I… Please don’t scream. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

…That wasn’t threatening or ominous at all.

You nodded.

With a heavy sigh, the hand over your mouth slowly let go, obviously ready to silence you without a moment’s hesitation but giving you a chance to speak.

You tried to push away from him but he held you still against his chest, not letting you see him. You growled. “What do you want from me? I don’t have any valuables on me. And I’m not worth much to anyone.”

“Woah. Uh, stars. No, I don’t- stars, are you okay?” Actual concern laced his voice.

You thrashed again but stilled when his arm came forward to cup your mouth. “I am not confiding in my kidnapper! You can go meet a sharks third layer of teeth first!”

“Heh, already have. Listen, I’m not here to hurt you, and I’m sorry for scaring you. If you really want me to leave, I’ll leave.” There was a… serious tone in his voice. Like a soldier awaiting a command.

“Yes! Go! I don’t want to be kidnapped today!” You snapped.

“Yessir.” His arms grabbed yours and pushed you away from his chest. “Little tip, get out of the water as soon as I let go. There are… sharks nearby. Very aggressive sharks. Stay safe.” He released you.

Taking your chance to see your captor, you spun around to see…ripples. He was gone. A nervous glance at the secretive waves had you taking the stranger’s advice and swimming to shore. You rode a wave onto the pebbly beach and heaved yourself into an upright position.

You could have sworn you saw something red flash across the water at you but nothing was there when you looked.

Flippers came off and you ran. Barefoot or not, you were not going back in the water.

Not today.

#undertale #mermay 2024 #cross sans #siren

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raisoramizu · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1: Heaven is not forever Thanks to the creativity of @jjjackson_x on X for the Radioapple doujinshi, which I translated and adapted into prose for this first chapter of Heaven is Not Forever. This work will serve as the inspiration for the rest of the story. TRIGGER WARNING: Explicit Sexual Content - Non-Con - Mature Content - Angst - Violence - Sensitive Content - Disturbing Content

< .. >

The distant murmur of a city—what city?—echoed in his mind. Soft crackles, muffled sounds, low and deep. Car noises? Footsteps? An explosion? Someone was screaming, running toward him. He opened his eyes, and the blurred slits of the world around him sharpened into vivid clarity. Buildings. Tall buildings of varying shapes and sizes. His vision was hazy; the dominant colors were crimson and black, and there was a strong stench of blood... sulfur? The sky had the same hues, filled with sickly clouds. And the sun—was it a sun? A black circle with a pentagram symbol in its center. Beside it, Heaven shone in all its bright splendor.

< ..! >

The frantic footsteps of someone fleeing reached him. Suddenly, a woman crashed into him and fell to the ground with a scream. Adam quickly pulled himself upright, planting his hands firmly on the filthy sidewalk, and stared at her with wide eyes. She sat in front of him, legs splayed, bracing herself on the sidewalk with both hands. Her face showed utter terror, her gaze—black sclera and red iris—fixed on him. What was she? A woman? A demon? A Succubus with long brown hair, a black tail tipped with a red spade, and long, curved horns. She wore tattered clothes that left little to the imagination, revealing the generous shape of her chest. The clothes were torn, but not for fashion's sake.

Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second before she quickly looked past him. They had arrived.

< There she is, that bitch! Get her! > shouted a demon's aggressive voice, prompting Adam to stagger to his feet with difficulty.

Why difficulty? He had no wings. He swayed as he turned to face them with his imposing frame; there were four of them, two small Imps and two Sinners with vaguely humanoid but undeniably monstrous forms. They were clearly in a side alley off the city's main avenue; there were bright back doors to some establishments, but mostly the narrow space was framed by the solid walls of buildings, with the occasional window looking out to the sky.

< Oh-Oh! Is he her little friend!? > one of them jeered, laughing with a cigar clamped between sharp teeth. < Nah, he's just some half-dead idiot lying there! > one of the Imps squawked obnoxiously. < Then get lost if you don't want your guts spilled! That wench is ours! >

The Succubus whimpered in fear on the ground, and at that moment, one of the Sinners—the bigger and taller one—lunged at Adam, throwing a clawed punch aimed at his face. But Adam caught his hand, claws sinking into his palm. Gritting his teeth, he retaliated with an uppercut that smashed into the demon's chin, shattering his skull in a spray of gore and sending him flying several meters until he crashed against a wall with a sickening thud.

Adam glanced down at his right hand, his black skin pierced and bleeding... red? It was red. The pain was excruciating. < ..what the hell— > he tried to growl, but a sudden sharp pain in his side made him double over with a groan.

< Bastard, you're on our turf! I'll turn you to mush! > One of the Imps had stabbed him and was still clinging to him, driving the blade deeper. Adam reached out with his injured hand, curling his fingers into a horn shape with his thumb, and unleashed a sudden black beam that crackled like a laser, completely disintegrating the Imp and blasting a hole where the side entrance of a club had been.

Amid the smoke and dust from the blast, the Succubus screamed again. She sprang to her feet and ran, pursued by the curses of the two remaining demons. < Damn, he disintegrated him! Carl! I'm gonna kill him! >

The other small Imp leaped onto Adam, who was still dazed and stumbling. It clung to his face with arms and legs, scratching his head viciously. < Damn demon, I've had enough of you! > Adam managed to grab it by the nape before feeling a sharp jolt. Something was stuck to him—something on his head. He tugged at the Imp, bending his shoulders. It was attached to his head, to something... horns. The Imp's blood dripped onto his face, burning his eyes. < Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Get off! > With a ripping sound and a spray of guts, he hurled the Imp at the other Sinner, hitting him dead on. He then immediately felt his head—horns. He had horns!

Adam shot a murderous look at the remaining demon, who, terrified, turned and fled. Under the frightened gaze of other creatures peering from doors and windows, he staggered along the sidewalk, his boots sinking into the blood-soaked ground. With each step, he left a trail of blood smeared on the wall he used for support with his injured hand, while clutching his side with the other. A wave of nausea hit him, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. He had killed thousands of demons before, so why did he feel like vomiting this time? Maybe because he wasn't wearing his mask? His head spun, and he felt his strength slipping away as he walked past demons who had witnessed the scene, causing them to back away in fear.

Staring at the ground, he stumbled deeper and deeper into the narrow alleys until he rounded a corner. The electronic whir of a camera mounted under an eave tracked him, trying to keep him in its frame. The alley was deserted, the only sound the occasional drip of water filling a puddle. Adam looked down into it, his own reflection staring back.

< .. > He didn't even have time to feel fear; he was frozen in place. Was that really him? His face was splattered with red—the blood of the Imp that had impaled itself on his still-exposed horns. They were black and curved, but in that moment, they vanished as if absorbed back into his forehead, leaving only his brown hair. His appearance hadn't changed much; he was still tall, with black hands and a goatee, a face that appeared human, but his eyes... they were red. Two different shades of red—darker in the iris, lighter in the sclera. He was a demon. A Sinner. What else could he be?

He was still wearing his battle tunic with black jeans, boots, and a high, wide, studded collar. The collar was stained with blood and torn in several places, revealing not only his legs but also the curve of his stomach.< ..shit > He sighed, letting himself go as his vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. He collapsed heavily to the ground, drawing the attention of a few more cameras that turned in his direction.

< ..Sir, I've found him. > In the silence, broken only by the distant noise of the city, the sound of hesitant footsteps was interrupted by a male voice. "< Perfect, bring him here >" Vox's voice replied, muffled through the audio of a tablet, where his sharp, drooling face—shaped like a television screen—was displayed. "< Make sure he doesn't wake up for the next two hours, or I'll tear you apart myself when you regenerate! >" he added with a growl, his darting right eye moving closer to the screen just before it went black.

Adam barely managed to focus on the polished shoes of someone who, amidst curses and blasphemies, bent over him. With a click, the person activated a syringe gun and plunged the thick needle into the back of Adam's neck. A sharp jolt and searing pain were followed by a wave of relaxation that washed over him, sending him into unconsciousness.

...

It was a fine morning in Pentagram City; the red sky gleamed with a welcoming crimson light that reflected off the windows of the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel. After its destruction, the hotel had been completely reconstructed—bigger, more beautiful, with every detail meant to remind both past and present guests of its former glory, Sir Pentious included. Particularly prominent—visible even from the outside—were the two wings of the "Alpha Males" of the place: on the right, Alastor's Radio Tower, and on the left, Lucifer's apple-shaped room.

Inside, Charlie and her father were sitting at a small table in the common room, the décor mostly shaded in reds and browns, with three steaming cups of tea in front of them. < Alastor..? > The Princess's voice echoed with hesitant sweetness toward the Radio Demon, who stood with his back to them, fingers wrapped around his cane topped with a microphone. < Alastor..?! > < ..? > The Half-Deer turned towards them, focusing through his monocle.

He stood proudly in his red suit, composed of a striped jacket and pants, with a neatly fastened black bowtie at his neck and a lighter-colored shirt underneath. His hair was the color of strawberries, with black tips that extended into the fur near his animal ears. Those same ears twitched as he turned his closed-lip smile toward them. Lucifer sat next to Charlie, dressed in just a white shirt with black hands emerging from the sleeves, his ever-present wedding ring on his left hand. Over the shirt, he wore a red-striped vest complete with a black bowtie. Naturally, his broad, light-colored hat was perched on his head—his blond hair slicked back, revealing his forehead where the golden serpent coiled around the apple, his personal symbol. With one elbow resting on the table, he propped up his face with a hand, staring at Alastor with an expression of bored disapproval.

< ..my father and I are both free today > the Princess continued. < Why don't you sit with us and chat for a bit? Talk..! > Her enthusiasm grew so much that she half-stood, lifting herself slightly off her seat, a sharp smile revealing her pointed canines. < ..Maybe it's the right time to get to know each other better and clear the air.. > < Oh, Charlie, dear ~ ..you worry too much! > Alastor cut in softly, his voice thick with that characteristic radio effect, as he extended the red-clawed index finger of his right hand to playfully poke her small, feminine nose. < You know I have the urge to rip off that horrible hat of his.. > he continued, flashing a sharp grin, turning to show them his side while lazily waving his hand in the air. < What the.. > Lucifer muttered, the corners of his lips turning down in complete disapproval. < ..isn't it a bit too much to ask for more? > Alastor added, casting a sharp sidelong glance at the Seraph—his eyes glowing with two different shades of red in the iris and sclera—from his upright stance.

Lucifer's vermilion eyes narrowed as he glanced up at him sideways, clearly displeased. < I have nothing to say to "Mr. Lucifer" ~ > the Radio Demon crackled again. < Instead.. > he suddenly lunged toward Charlie, moving past the angel and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. < I'd much rather spend time with you, dear Charlie ~ > .. < Why don't we go for a walk? I'm sure Rosie would be thrilled to see you! > he said with enthusiasm and a wide, sharp smile. < Alright... but.. > Charlie, uncertain, was gently coaxed by his arm to rise fully from her chair. < Come on, darling! > Still holding her shoulder with his claws, Alastor led her away under Lucifer's tense gaze.

...

The reddish, ultra-modern corridor of the west wing of the Hazbin Hotel was steeped in silence, broken only by the sound of footsteps that suddenly came to a halt. < Oh ~ Pardon me > Alastor found himself face to face with Lucifer. The Seraph was leaning against the corner wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Still dressed in his vest and shirt, his sleeves rolled up and held in place by dark bands around his biceps to prevent them from hanging over his wrists, he stared at Alastor with red eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

He was, undeniably, beautiful—a true angel. Without his hat, his blond hair accentuated the fairness of his skin and his delicate features, with a hint of pink in his cheeks. He was short and seemed almost slight. Who would ever have expected that beneath such an expressive exterior—one that clearly struggled to navigate social interactions and express the right emotions in each context—was the Devil himself? Now more than ever, with that feigned disinterest, almost boredom, in his slightly hunched posture, laden with a false confidence, he seemed fragile.

Alastor turned, changing direction to avoid Lucifer, who was blocking his way. < Wait > the angel's voice made him stop again, standing there with his back to him, ears pricked. < You've gotten stranger and more annoying by the day > Lucifer continued. < I've noticed... you're trying to avoid me. > < .. > < You know, don't you? What happened that day in the alley.. >

He knew. Alastor had seen it.

He had been walking through one of the city's side alleys, followed by the only Egg Boiz who had survived the massacre. That creature had clung to him more persistently than anyone ever had before. This was one of the quickest routes back to the Hotel without having to deal with the crowds, a path winding between towering buildings without doors, occasional windows, walls, and small dead-end alleys. He walked past one such alley, his attention caught by a barricade made of wooden beams, nailed together in a haphazard fashion. But it was the sounds—the moans and sighs—coming from behind the barricade that really drew his gaze, which slipped through a narrow crack. < ..?! > His eyes, dense with those two similar yet opposing colors, took in the scene < .. > His chest tightened with a deep wave of vertigo and dread; his eyes widened and darkened, ticking like radio dials that began to spin in place of his pupils. Three completely naked demons, armed with chains and whips, surrounded the small figure of Lucifer, who was also stripped of his clothes. They held him by the wrists, forcing him to sit against a wooden crate with his legs spread wide. A Sinner with a goat-like face and long, curved black horns stood behind him, gripping his throat and yanking his blond hair back, forcing him to lift his chin and expose his serpentine tongue, which was drenched as he moaned and groaned from the thrusts of the demon between his legs. Lucifer's body was nearly obscured by the writhing, naked figures, their hands scratching him, their fingers thrust deep into his throat, causing his red pupils to roll back. With his legs fully splayed, his knees nearly touching his shoulders, he endured every torment with an expression of twisted ecstasy, his arousal evident, slamming wetly against his abdomen with every jolt.

< It was a coincidence... but I never would have expected it > Alastor commented in the corridor, a sharp smile spreading across his lips, though he did not look directly at Lucifer. The scenes replayed in his mind as if they had just happened, every detail from the most depraved to the most obscene.

The angel, increasingly overwhelmed by the bodies, was taken deeper, harder, louder. With his throat pierced by claws until golden blood flowed and his shoulders marked by whips, amid humiliating insults of every kind, he reached the peak of pleasure.

< Are you afraid..~? > Alastor asked again, his voice distorted by a radio effect as he addressed Lucifer. < Don't tell Charlie... > the Seraph responded, staring anxiously at a random point on the floor. He tried to avoid Alastor's gaze, overwhelmed by an embarrassment he had never felt before, and by... fear. Yes, he was afraid. < .. > < Oh, right, Charlie... I wonder how she'd react if she knew her dear daddy enjoys being tortured and insulted by a pack of pigs > the Radio Demon's insinuating, musical—and amused—voice snapped the angel to attention, his heart leaping into his throat. < I wonder how she'd take it... > he added, beginning to walk away again, still with his back to the other. < No, you don't understand... > Lucifer, breathless with stress, lunged toward the demon. < No, and I'm not interested in doing so. All I know is you did it behind your daughter's back, > .. < Her great father, scarred, beaten... kneeling like an obedient dog under the naked bodies of Sinners.. ~ > the Half-Deer continued without looking at him. < It's unfair to keep it a secret; it's something absu- >

< Enough! > Lucifer's hand gripped tightly around the demon's bony arm, stopping him once more. His eyes wide, his body rigid and trembling, shaken by a breath steeped in panic, Lucifer dug his claws into the fabric of Alastor's jacket, clutching his own chest at the level of his heart as if he suddenly and desperately needed to stop its frantic beating. < There's... > He tried to speak again, pausing to swallow a lump of saliva and wet his lips, which were suddenly dry despite his skin already glistening with cold sweat. < There's a reason. There's a cause... > .. < I... I can't see beautiful things anymore, I can't feel joy, I don't even know if I'm... alive > the angel continued to pant. < I got worse after Lilith left... but I found solace with those damned bastards. >

He sighed, trying—unsuccessfully—to let all the panic and fear slide away, lowering his eyelids over his golden sclera eyes. < ...I'm an angel, I regenerate so quickly... and I can exploit that to deceive my existence, my waiting > he clenched his dark fingers more tightly, crumpling the fabric of his own vest, his brows furrowing into a pained expression, igniting a sharp, hysterical smile, tense. < It's ironic, isn't it? To find pleasure in being trampled like garbage... just to feel, in those moments, alive again. >

His grip on Alastor's arm suddenly tightened as Lucifer lifted his eyes toward his face, staring up at the noticeable gap in their heights. < ... > Yet he found himself still staring at the back of the Half-Deer's head and shoulders. < You can... laugh at me > he said, his hysterical smile causing the entire structure around them to shift; a power surge crackled all around, and the lights dimmed, plunging the corridor into a twilight that made it impossible to see the end on either side.

His eyes grew enormous, the sclera darkening to black, while dark, curved horns began to sprout from his forehead. Meanwhile, demonic eyes floated around them. < But. you. cannot. tell. my. daughter. > his tone rough, growing in intensity, darkening, and becoming commanding as he carefully enunciated each word, overpowering his ragged breathing.

< Alastor, I command you as Lord of Hell! > Taking a resounding step back, Lucifer released his grip on the other's arm, rotating his wrist and turning the palm of the same clawed hand upward. < You will never speak of this again. > He extended that hand to him, reaching out toward his back.

< Pff. > Lucifer flinched at the amused huff from the Half-Deer, followed by a laugh. < Hahaha! > Jerking his head up so that his bobbed red hair swayed, Alastor tilted his face toward the angel, searching for him sideways with a single eye: it was wide, completely black, and lit by the gleam of the ticking radio dial in place of a pupil. As the corridor's already dim lights flickered, irritating radio interference was added, causing the electrical system to spark with sharp, acid-green bolts. < You know... I don't think you know me very well ~ >

Alastor turned and abruptly grabbed the hand that Lucifer still held out toward him, seizing it by the wrist instead of shaking it in agreement. This caught the angel off guard, producing a clear expression of astonishment as he was pulled against the much taller demon—who, at this moment, was much larger, alight with his sorcery. With his horns still protruding, his eyes dark and inky, and his sinuous tail with its spade tip snaking behind him, Lucifer found himself slammed against the chest of the Half-Deer, his wrist held fast. Alastor bent forward to keep his unsettling, sharp demonic expression fixed on him. His horns branched out everywhere, emitting constant radio distortions that affected the entire corridor, creating visible interference on objects, warping them with the density of evil that swelled everything around them.

< ...but it so happens that I'm interested in you ~ > Alastor crackled again, baring his yellowed fangs. < So I have a favor to ask of you, Your Majesty... > His voice changed tone with the next phrase, becoming more insinuating, dimming his unsettling appearance, and lowering himself to more level ground with the Devil's small figure; he intertwined his red claws with the other's dark fingers, seeking closer proximity to his face without losing that sinister smile. < My silence... in exchange for something else. > His face appeared directly beside Lucifer's ear, the angel petrified, his wide, almond-shaped eyes staring blankly ahead. < Have you ever heard the saying, "Kick a man when he's down"? >

< ..... > At these last words, the angel felt a jolt in his chest that climbed to his throat, electrifying every muscle; surges of terror and excitement numbed his body rather than igniting it. And Alastor... he was still there, half-bent toward his ear, looking at him with a sharp, sincere smile. His red eyes gleamed with joy, amusement, and a strange malice that spoke only of sadism.

< ...but I'm sure you'll enjoy it ~ >

...

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darklove9314-blog · 1 year ago

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Mates

For Elucien Week Day 1, I thought I would do an Elucien fic set during Nessian’s mating ceremony. I hope everyone enjoys it!!

Elain adjusted the blush pink skirts of her dress as she ran her hands through her array of curls trying to readjust them, her eyes flickered back to the dance floor where her eldest sister and her mate were the center of attention, their gazes never leaving one another as Elain couldn’t help but smile, it had been a while since she had seen Nesta this happy and she was glad for her.

Turning her gaze away, Elain went towards the table where the refreshments had been set out, grasping one of the wine glass that was heavy with wine as she took one small glance back at her sister before heading to a different part of the venue that held a little more quiet.

She pulled up her skirts, trying her best not to muddy them as she took a sip of the wine in her hand trying her best not to spill it as she came across the Sidra and a form that was all too familiar to her standing beside it.

She fought the tug of the bond urging her towards him wanting nothing more than to turn back around and go back to the ceremony before he saw her, only fate had not been on her side this morning as Lucien turned around at that exact moment his eyes locking with hers as if he had known that she had been there all along.

She silently cursed the bond for alerting him to her presence as she took a small step forward, trying to figure out exactly what to say to him. It had been a while since they had been alone, more by her careful design than the circumstances around them as he saved her the trouble and spoke first.

“Just took a minute to step away and clear my head, I’ll leave you be if you want some time to yourself.” He said to her, taking a sip of his own wine glass. He looked so relaxed around the Sidra as if being away from people and observing nature had calmed him.

She didn’t blamer him for the mind set, she was the same way, and had she not came here to do the same thing?

“No. You were here first. Stay. I can find another place around here to have a moment of peace.” She answered, through every part of her was trying to argue for her to stay.

“I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience, this is your home after all, and I’m only a guest here.”

“It’s my sister’s home.” Elain found herself answering, clamping her mouth shut, she had no idea why she had said that, but as the words escaped her lips, she had tasted the truth in them.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, especially with all the work Feyre had put into the house to make it a home for everyone, even Lucien had his own room in the house, thought Elain had never seen it, and had no inclination to, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being ungrateful by saying that this didn’t feel like a home to her. Though she had adapted, just like she always had.

But something about this place, about the Night Court in general made her feel out of place, no matter how much she tried to fit in like a piece of a puzzle, she always felt like the odd one out, despite the fact that both her sisters had found a place here and she had always assumed she would be with them, but what if-

‘Elain shook her head, sending the negative emotions out of her head as she felt him step closer, she glanced up at him, he had came closer, but not so close that they were face to face as if he was trying not to startle her.

“And what does home feel like to you?” He asked her, his question sending her off guard. No one had ever asked her that. No one had ever cared to.

“I’m-not sure.” She answered, and it was the truth, she had never really stopped to think about it.

Suddenly she felt him step closer, his beauty in her full view, he had always been beautiful. Perhaps if they had met in another life she would have gladly been his, but ion this one-in this one he symbolized everything she had lost-everything she would continue to lose.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then she felt it, the rush of another vision overtaking her body.

She collapsed to her knees, hearing her name fall from Lucien’s lips as she felt his arms encircle her. She clung to him, her nails digging into his flesh as she gritted her teeth, the pain exploding in her body as flashes of visions filtered through her, blurry and unreadable as she tried to sort through them with no avail.

She let out a frustrated sigh when the visions seized, the images confusing her and throwing her off center. She felt Lucien hold her up, tilting her chin up so she was gazing at him, a look of worry in his gaze.

“Are you alright?” He asked her.

“You don’t want to know what I saw?” She inquired, his question throwing her off once more.

“I would rather make sure you were alright.” Lucien answered, glancing down at how close they were before he took a small step back, giving her space.

“I’ll be fine.” She assured him, somehow missing the heat of his body and how it had felt like the embodiment of sunshine as she crossed her arms to warm herself, suddenly feeling cold.

He noted the change of her posture as he shrugged out of his suit jacket, stepping towards her and throwing it over her shoulders as she said,

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, I’m doing this because I want to.”

She opened her mouth, trying to figure out how to respond to that, but instead she settled for “You don’t want to know about the vision?”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Lucien asked her as she shook her head in response, “It was nothing useful anyway,” She muttered, “Sometimes the visions are like that, just a whole jumbled up mess of things that don’t make sense.”

Lucien nodded, not pushing her for more information as he asked,

“So what does home feel like to you?”

“You really want to know that right now?” She questioned, shocked that he wasn’t pushing her for more information so he could discuss it with Rhys and Feyre.

“I would rather talk to you about something that might ,make you happy.”

Elain sighed, taking a moment to think about it,

“It’s hard to think of what a home feels like when every home you’ve ever had has been taken from you.” She answered, a look of understanding crossing across Lucien’s gaze,

“I know all too well what that feels like,” He confided in her as she glanced up at him in shock,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, I asked you how you felt, and you should never feel ashamed to tell me the truth despite how it might make me feel.”

Elain glanced at him as if she were seeing him for the first time, the male she had been avoiding, the one that damned cauldron had chosen for her, seemed to be one of the very few people who had ever cared to know what was on her mind, to know what she thought, It was a welcome change.

“Sunshine.” She answered as Lucien glanced at her, a small look of confusion crossing his face as she hurried to explain,

“I would like my house to be full of sunshine, I’ve never really been fond of the darkness. I always had a fear of it when I was a small child, I always had such terrible nightmares growing up and the sunshine through my window each morning was always a reprieve. So I would love a home shrouded in sunlight top chase away the darkness, if that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” He answered as she found the corners of her lips tugging up as she swore she heard Lucien’s breath catch.

“What about you?” She asked, “ What does home feel like to you?”

“Home-well, that one is a lot more difficult, but if i could have it, If The Mother would grant me even this simplest wish, I think I would love to have a home where I felt safe, a place full of love and happiness, where the past would be chased away and replaced with a brighter future. If that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” She answered, stepping closer to him as the silence of the night echoed around them.

He opened his mouth to say more as a snap of a branch caught their attention, making them break their gaze from each other as both their heads swirled towards that direction and Feyre stepped out, a look of shock crossing her face as she saw Lucien and Elain together.

Elain took a step away from Lucien, allowing her distance to clear her mind as she focused on her sister.

“Is everything alright?” She asked as Feyre snapped out of her look of shock and concentrated on Elain.

“Yes. Nesta and Cassian ae just getting ready to leave, I thought you would like to see her one last time before Cassian takes her away from us for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s probably for the best.” She answered as she glanced at Lucien, about to shrug out of his suit jacket and give it back to her as he held up a hand,

“Keep it. I can retrieve it again later.” He told her as she put it back on,

“I guess I’ll see you around.” She answered, knowing that she had to go, no matter how much the bond yearned for her to stay here with him and talk to him more.

“Yeah. I’ll see you around.” He answered turning his gaze back to the Sidra as Elain walked back towards Feyre, trying her best to ignore the bond trying to tug her back towards him as she left with her sister, not sure what had just occured, but feeling more at peace then she had been in a while as the night swallowed her and Fyere whole, swearing that she could feel Lucien’s eyes on her all the way.

@elucienweekofficial

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucienweek2023 #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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messysketchyobeyme · 1 year ago

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Lucifer's a super sexy and hot vampire demon

Lucifer/Reader

Summary:

Lucifer is so sexy, and hot, and………biteable.

Word Count: 1128

---

You were always a little bit…off, at least, in Lucifer's opinion. Although you were the brothers' attendant, you tended to be too quick to dive head-first into danger without thinking of the consequences. He tried to justify your personality by telling himself that you had more experience as a demon in the Devildom. You had all of your life to adapt and learn about the rules of this hellish land.

Sometimes, you would act in such heinous ways that Lucifer knew there was something else about you that made you so charmingly reckless and trusting toward a group of fallen angels. Even now, you had eagerly accepted an invitation into the lion's den that was Lucifer's room, despite the obvious danger. He knew you weren't acting out of naivety, but he didn't have a clue why you were the way you were.

Lucifer ran his tongue over his newly developed fangs. You were always so captivating in his eyes, but now you were so much more. He fought tooth and nail to avoid succumbing to this illness, but it was over the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Something about you intensified that little possessive corner in the back of his mind, fully turning him into a vampire. Perhaps, it was the way you smiled, that quick and quiet laugh you'd always do, or how you spoke in such an insultingly defiant manner. Everything you did, no matter the reason, drove him into a mind-numbing frenzy.

Lucifer knew that this was the illness talking, making him think like a vampire. He knew he should have more resilience, but you were just so enthralling that fully giving in seemed more and more appealing by the second.

Lucifer grasped your upper arms–hard. His fingers dug into the cloth as he desperately held you close to him. Were you using a new type of body spray or was it his now heightened senses that made your aroma so delectable? You smelled so tantalizingly sweet, and he knew that your blood would taste so much sweeter.

You shivered when Lucifer slipped your sleeve down, revealing your shoulder, but you didn't react, otherwise. You were allowing him to do all of these things to you without any protests. Lucifer always wished to be able to dissect your brain and figure out what made you tick, but he never wanted to know what you were thinking more than at this exact moment.

Lucifer leaned against the area where your neck met your shoulder, dragging his fangs against it. Your delightfully warm skin dipped under the pressure of his teeth. It wouldn't take much force to fully sink his teeth in you and drink your blood, now, would it?

The real question was; however, would Lucifer be able to show restraint and stop before he sucked you dry? After all, a chopped-up goose wouldn't produce any more golden eggs. But, was Lucifer patient enough not to harm the goose when it was lying so calmly in his arms? It wasn't like Lucifer wanted to, but this illness brought such a primal urge within him that was begging to come out.

You pressed your head against his. Lucifer took a sharp breath. He couldn't see the face you were making, but he could hear your heartbeat. It was slow. Calm. Would you be okay with him doing this? Would he be okay?

Who was he kidding? He was Lucifer: the Avatar of Pride. Unlike the weaklings that were his brothers, Lucifer had more than enough control to stop himself from drinking more blood than necessary. He would only drink enough to satiate the undying thirst in the back of his throat. One little nibble wouldn't hurt…

Lucifer let out a sound of alarm when he felt something clamp down on his neck. He jerked his head back, rubbing the stinging area. He paused. Were those bite marks he was feeling?

He glared at you. You stared back with a bored expression on your face. He was still holding onto your arms, but his grip had loosened considerably.

Your eyes widened slightly, as though you just realized your faux pas. "Oh, sorry," you said, "I thought we were biting each other." You sucked your teeth.

"What? No. You're not even a vampire." Lucifer shook his head incredulously. "Why did you bite me?"

You shrugged. "I dunno. Your skin was warm…soft…bitable…" You gazed longingly at his neck. If Lucifer wasn't careful, you might try to go for seconds.

He groaned, punctuating it with an eye roll. "Well, now you've ruined the moment." The thirst was still there, but considerably less so.

"I liked the way you whimpered when I bit you."

Lucifer scowled but that didn't mask the way his face had suddenly engulfed into flames. He was glad the lights were off in his room because he knew you would take the opportunity to tease him if you could see the effect you had on him.

"Excuse you? I did not whimper." He bared his fangs out towards you, in hopes that they'd intimidate you enough so that you'd shut up.

Your eyes lit up. "No, that was definitely a whimper," you said. He should have known that this sort of stuff wouldn't work on someone as odd as you. If anything, you were probably into it. You continued, tilting your head to the side, "I can do it, again, if you want. Just so you can hear it for yourself."

Lucifer took the first fleeting thought that popped into his head and locked it up deep, deep down within his mind, where nobody, not even himself, had to acknowledge its existence. He pulled back away from you and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No, there's no need for that," Lucifer said, "You should just leave before I get the urge to bite you, again."

"I wouldn't mind that."

"I know that." As gently as he could, he began to usher you out of his bedroom. You weren't dragging your feet, but you weren't too cooperative, either. "But I would mind if I lost control and lost…" Lucifer trailed off, the word 'you' clinging onto the tip of his tongue.

He knew. He knew he wasn't strong enough to stop himself from indulging in his desires. Lucifer had to take advantage of this brief moment of clarity to get you out of here.

You crossed your arms and walked up to his door yourself. "Fine," you said with one foot out of the doorway, "but once we cure you, I'm coming back."

"I'll be looking forward to it." Lucifer closed the door, leaving him alone in his room with nothing but your lingering scent on his clothes to keep him company.

#Obey Me #Obey Me Lucifer #Obey Me MC #Lucifer/Reader #Fanfic

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meimi-haneoka · 6 months ago

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The center of gravity - Kaito/Akiho ficlet

It's time for another combo fanart + ficlet!!

You can find the full fanart inspired by this ficlet (or is it the other way around??) here.

I alllllways wanted to talk about this aspect. This time I won't explore Kaito and Akiho's future (not entirely), but rather their past.

As JP fans bought volume 16 of the Clear Card manga and came to the conclusion of this story that lasted 7 years and half, I've seen many people rejoicing about the relatively happy ending for Kaito and Akiho too. The incontrovertible confirmation (right at the last moment) that Kaito reciprocated Akiho's feelings was received positively by anyone I've seen commenting on it. And along with those comments, many expressed their desire to know more. "I wish we could've seen how Kaito came to cherish Akiho to that point".

I share their same sentiment, and I tried to visualize, both in art and words, what very likely happened on that fateful day when little Kaito saw Akiho in the glass ball. What did Kaito see in her, to the point of prompting him to act in someone else's interest? Why him, a child who never wanted anything and considered getting involved with anyone a nuisance? CLAMP haven't shown in details the "trigger", but along the years I strongly felt that the relationship between Kaito and Akiho is one of those guided by fate. After their first meeting, none of them stayed the same, and both felt inevitably drawn to one another. Of course that attraction presented itself in a variety of forms that changed throughout their journey together. And as you can well imagine, it hasn't always been romantic.

In this ficlet, Kaito is 9 years old, Akiho is 2. I also vaguely included speculations regarding the death of Lilie and her husband.

Excerpt:

He felt something snapping and stirring, inside of him. It felt as if the little girl had turned into the center of gravity of Earth and the entire universe was pushing him towards her, despite his reluctance. For the first time ever, he found himself reflected in the eyes of someone else.

Under the cut!

He had been called in again.

Without asking him if he was already busy with something else, or if it was okay with him to do it at all. They just told him "You're wanted at the rituals hall. Hurry up."

Following the orders, little Yuna D. Kaito walked down the disturbing hallways of the Magic Association's headquarters, dragging the heavy tails of the extravagant dark robe along, as he headed towards his destination.

He didn't have it in him to satisfy their umpteenth request. He never had it in him, but at the same time, he couldn't even find in him the will to leave those godforsaken hallways behind, and together with them, everyone who hung out in there too.

His core felt more empty and dead than ever, especially ever since they informed him of her passing, one year prior.

Every single day he just went through the motions of life, without truly feeling any of it. Fulfilling orders on command, eating whatever solid food he could find around - another passive response to his survival instinct. None of that came from his own will. His mind had recently started wandering to places a 9-year-old should never go.

But he didn't care. All he knew was that he just didn't care. About anything, or anyone. Not even about he himself.

The boy reached the so-called "rituals hall", a spacious room just as dark and ominous as the rest of that damned place was, if not more. A couple of Higher Mages were waiting for him at the altar. He walked past a small group of Comrades whispering among themselves - his ears passively overheard the words "it's quite weird" and "she should've shown signs by now", before reaching the altar. At the center of it, a magic glass orb rested on a crystal support. Kaito noticed they already had magically adapted it to his height.

"Yuna D., we want you to check at a distance a young child, for any possible trace of magic developing in her body."

"...Why me? It is a very simple task that any of the other Comrades could effortlessly do."

The brow of the Higher Mage who had issued the order twitched, slightly irritated by the child's insolence. Kaito's impudence was well-known among the congregation, yet the older magicians usually just ignored it in exchange for the child's services. This time was no exception, and the Higher Mage simply replied "It is a quite complex case. The ones who commissioned this task to us want to be absolutely sure of the verdict, therefore they requested for the intervention of our most powerful magician. Which happens to be you."

Kaito lowered his eyes. They had specifically requested for him, for a service apparently only he could offer. He stood out among all the other magicians of the Association for his innate astonishing abilities. He could do almost anything with no effort. The feeling stirred by that acknowledgement should've made him feel proud...appreciated...wanted. ...But it only made him feel worse. He couldn't help but hear a voice inside his head whispering...

"Am I being wanted, or...am I being used?"

But ultimately, little Kaito didn't care. That's all he knew. So he looked up and climbed the altar's stairs, reaching the glass orb. He circled it with his small hands covered by the robe, and started the spell to summon the image of the target of the check-up he was ordered to perform. The orb emitted a strong beam of light, reflecting a small figure at the center of it. A little girl, dressed in a light blue pinafore.

And then, he saw them.

Two blue eyes staring straight at the core of his soul, piercing through the thick glass.

He froze on the spot, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

He would've recognized those facial features anywhere. That ash blonde hair, those eyes resembling blue topaz stones. Nobody told him the name of the little girl beforehand, nor which clan she belonged to, but he didn't need any of that. He immediately knew who she was.

It's easy, when in your whole young life you've only met one person who didn't look at you like a property to exploit or a menace to keep at arm's length. And suddenly, his mind played back the images of a pregnant Lilie, eyes glowing with a peculiar light, while she proudly informed him that she carried a very precious love inside herself. Love born out of love, she said. He remembered staring at the baby bump, confused as it always happened when it came to whatever that powerful magician said. She invited him to touch the little bump, but he refused, grossed out by the idea. That was the last time he saw her.

Kaito quickly estimated the toddler could be about 2 years old, which matched with the other info he had. He had heard the baby Lilie had given birth to wasn't even one year old when the incident happened.

The boy peered deeply into those blue eyes and the knot in his stomach slowly turned into a cold grip when he realized something was off. Way too off.

The little girl's eyes held emotions he never saw on Lilie before. She wasn't smiling like her mother always did, and frankly she looked quite confused and scared by the examination she was being subjected to. She looked lost. Rootless. Lonely. Just like.....

From outside, Kaito looked as deadpan as ever. But inside, he felt that organ that barely kept him alive beating much faster than he had ever experienced in his pathetic, dull life.

A comrade snapped him out of his trance, soliciting him: "So, what about the fragments of magic?" Kaito remembered why he was there in the first place and activated another spell. His eyes sparkled while he analyzed throughly the toddler reflected in the orb.

He searched and searched...and as an alien feeling took possession of his body, making him feel anxiety for the first time, the world came crushing down on him.

None of it. Not a single speck of magic in the child's body. Not a sign she would ever develop any, even in the future.

He knew it. He knew what that meant, for that ruthless clan composed by nothing but greedy, heartless people. Shame and contempt. An affront to a centuries-old lineage of brilliant magicians. A blemish on the one thing they could take pride on.

This little girl's life had barely just began and she was already condemned to suffer a shame she had no blame for.

But it didn't have to be that way. Not if he could help it. For the first time in his life (oh, how many first times he experienced in a handful of minutes just because of those sad blue eyes) he felt compelled to actually do something. Something more than the mere warnings he used to give to the mother of this little child, warnings that for his entire life he would be afraid to find out were warranted and connected to the powerful magician's early demise, and that of her beloved husband.

He would've just needed to tell the truth. Because the thing her blood relatives would've most likely done, once they found out she didn't have any trace of magic, was to kick her out of their clan. And as despicable as that sounded, it actually seemed like liberation to him. An innocent girl without magic powers like her had no means to defend herself against the greed of the rest of her family. But out of that toxic environment, she would've been able to live a normal life. She could've had a chance to live a life where she would've been blessed with the love of a family who truly appreciated and respected her. That love that Lilie always used to talk about and that was stripped from this child too soon. That love that he still couldn't understand and, so early on at this stage of his life, he was resigned to never completely grasp for himself.

He didn't really know this little girl and he probably wouldn't have seen her ever again, but for the sake of the only person who treated him like a human being, and for those familiar blue eyes he felt he could relate to, he knew he wanted something better for her. So he turned around, feigning condescension:

"There's nothing at all, here. She's just like a 'blank book' ".

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Kaito groggily opened his eyes, finding himself reflected in another pair of eyes that were staring back at him.

Those beautiful eyes, blue like topaz stones. The same ones he saw in the dream that revisited his childhood.

"Akiho-san....?" he said, his voice hoarse from the heavy sleep.

Akiho was lying on her left side, on Kaito's bed, right in front of him. "I'm sorry...I came to check on you after your seizure and when I saw you didn't answer at the door, I realized you were still sleeping...but I couldn't stop being anxious. So I came in...and decided to wait here for you to wake up."

Kaito could spot traces of unrest in her eyes. She had been afraid to lose him, once again.

She lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry for taking the liberty".

"Nothing to apologize for", he answered with a drowsy smile. She looked up again, her own face breaking into a beaming smile.

He could feel it again, that irresistible pull towards her, like she was Earth's center of gravity. She was the answer to the question that haunted him a lifetime ago. She was the one who wanted him, not used him.

Despite the 'blank book' comment in the end had backfired tragically, the dream made him realize that ever since his eyes met hers in the glass orb, that fateful day of many years ago, there hadn't been a single moment he hadn't loved her. Even when he still didn't know what love was, even when he still hadn't understood what love entailed. Even when it still wasn't the "love" everybody praised endlessly in their romantic songs, the one he certainly was feeling now. It wasn't that love, but he now was sure it was a kind of love nonetheless. His love for her changed and evolved from the very first moment and had the power to change him too, along with it.

Ever since he met her, he felt the inexplicable urge to act in her interest. That gravitational pull shook him from the torpor of his depression, proactively participating to the dance called "life", rather than going through the motions. How or why he came to feel that way didn't matter, it just happened. And he would've been grateful for it for the rest of his life.

"You changed several expressions on your face while you were sleeping. What were you dreaming about?" Akiho inquired with curiosity, propping herself up on her elbow.

Kaito stared tenderly at her.

"The center of gravity of my world"

#card captor sakura #ccsakura #akiho shinomoto #yuna d. kaito #yunaaki #akiyuna #spilled words #cosmos & crystals #basically what I want to say is #before the romantic feelings and the desperation and the restrained hands there was this #empathy and kindness #so many things can change just because you found yourself reflected in the eyes of someone else #and while for Akiho it took long time I think Kaito felt the pull of hitsuzen right away #kinda ironic for the guy that didn't show his feelings till the end #and now I'm going to pass out on the couch because I'm sick

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bellasimos · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 29 Oral Sex Luis x Miyo

Luis x Miyo (OC)

AO3 ( x ) Words Count: 358 Kinktober Masterlist [ x ]

Note: English is not my first language but I tried my best to edit and change grammar that makes sense.

Only to hear the pornographic sound from her swollen lips as her finger tangled on his hair. Unexpected to have Luis in between her legs, leave some couple love bites on her thighs to only then eat her out. The taste bud lingered in his tongue, craving more for her as Luis buried his mouth closer. He felt some of his hair being pulled, a sign as he made sure her legs remain open with his both hands.

Miyo threw her head back, throwing a couple of breaths as the outline of her stomach dipped a bit. Her whimper pleading, the sensation tighten in the center of her stomach while tears roll down from her cheek. Her toes curled up as her legs trembled, he wasn’t going to let her get away until he brought her satisfaction. Luis groaned on her cunt, pumping his tongue inside to add a bit more pressure. His eyes stare from below of her body, watching her nipples get harder each time he eats her.

“I’m close, shit-!” Miyo whispered pleas, unavailable to control herself.

Luis let out a soft pop before his mouth made contact with her clit, slowly then inserted his middle finger inside. Feeling her wall clamped around his finger, the orgasm was riding high as he saw her practically breaking into her demise pleasure. He flicked his tongue, thrusting his finger to push her to the edge, to break her apart. With one more thrust, Miyo cried pleading, rising to her orgasm while her back arched. Luis helps her to ride out until she is out of it, falling to her heavy breath. He smiled as he carefully withdrew his finger, pampered kisses from her navel to her stomach then to her valley of breast before making it to her neck.

“Esa es mi dulcena, breath. You did a wonderful job.” Luis mumbles, his large hand caressed the curve of her body.

Miyo whimpered but carefully she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into a small, innocent kiss. To which he did not mind, much rather he loves to see how softer she is around him.

©bellasimos I do not allow my works being modify, translate, adapted, copied or being posted in other website without my permission

#resident evil #re #luis serra navarro #oc #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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gameloops14 · 3 months ago

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How I Made An Endless Runner #3

Open the master tile blue print and go to the view port from there select the default séance rout and add an arrow with these location points X = 1000.0, Y = -330.0, Z = 50.0

Then duplicate the arrows so that you have three of them this will be the players three lanes.

This step is crucial because the Y-axis locations for each of these Arrow components (-330.0, 0.0, and 330.0) are the positions we will use to switch the player character between the three lanes. Additionally, we will use these locations later for spawning collectables. With these locations established, we can now proceed to set up the player movement.

Go to BP thirdperson blue print and disconnect a wire within the code. Then add a input node.

Now we will need to make some variables the first two will want to both be integers and the last one will want to be a Float.

Change the variable from a single to an array.

Compile the project, then select the LaneY variable. In the Details panel, navigate to the Default Value section, add three elements to the array, and enter the lane positions we identified earlier: -330.0, 0.0, and 330.0.

Now we need event "A" and "D" plug a clamp node in and get a node for lane subtract. Make sure to put D key but swap the Subtract node for an Add node.

Add a set actor location and make sure to Add a Get Actor Location node and split the structure pin on this as well. Then plug in just the X and Z locations. Then add get node for the Y lane variable once this is done add a set Lane and plug in Newlane into this. This will help to allow the player to swap from lane to lane when running.

You should end up with something that looks like this. This is an adaptation to make the lane switching more smooth.

We will then want to add time line nodes.

We should set this to 10 on the time line.

We then need do the code for the time line. We will need to add in a lerp we will need to connect the lerp to the Y pin on the set actor location.

This is what it should look like in the end. However it was at this moment I found I had a problem my character would move to the right of the screen but not the left. I tried to adapted some of my code however doing this would only result in the same thing happening just on a different side. It had trend out that I did not aline my time line right. But once I did this the game still would not work. I found that looking deeper I had accidently gotten the wrong "GET" once I replaced it with the right version the game worked fine.

#game review #video games #pc games #videogame #gaming #game screenshots #game design #game changer #game development

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codylabs · 2 years ago

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Dangit, I just finished one giant metroid comic now I'm inspired to start like half a dozen more. Maybe typing them out here will get them out of my head but probably not.

One about Samus waiting out a rainstorm alongside some federation soldiers. They ask her why she wears yellows and reds all the time and she tells them a little about Chozo culture, and their philosophies on war and pride and prophecy.

A retelling of Dread's events showing Raven Beak's perspective and tactics, and Samus's misadventures after an E.M.M.I. actually manages to shank her.

One of Samus's many duels with Ridley, in the middle of a battle, in the bottom of a crater knee deep in mud. Pirates watch from one ridge, and federation soldiers from the other, cheering for their champions and helping out with sniper shots. Sam and Rids brutalize each other for pages upon pages, each and every blow leaving a mark, every tool and weapon gets used, both of them covered in mud until their shapes and their bodies get lost in stylized pages and it just looks like two indistinct monsters tearing into each other with teeth, flashes of their backstories with roles and species and shapes and people mixed and jumbled in a misremembered haze of savagery. The art style finally normalizes when they're both too exhausted and wounded to keep fighting. She staggers over to him, shatters open his skull, sinks a fist into his brain, and pulls out a cybernetic chip that's just finished backing up his mind to a clone somewhere. She vaporizes the chip in rage, and sits down in the mud, exhausted. The Feds rally and the pirates are routed, and when all its quiet she asks his corpse if he ever grows weary.

One about her and Anthony's friendship, played out in bits and pieces over many years and the stories of many games as they grow together during military service, and then, over long years, slowly apart. He's one of the few to visit her whenever she's down for the count (in Fusion and Corruption) and he comforts her when Zebes is destroyed. Both of them visibly age as the story continues, and her suit breaks and adapts and grows visibly, and finally she (now an older lady, perhaps considering romance for the first time) asks her oldest friend he ever thinks about settling down. He reveals that he already has long ago, and shows her a picture of a wife and kid.

An cunning trap is laid for her by an infamous and wealthy (Jabba-the-Hutt-expy) slave lord. She shows up in the middle of his den, and he offers her alliance and a job. When she refuses, an enormous trained monster leap from the shadows, grab her arm cannon, and pins it into a custom steel clamp that's bolted to the floor, just to keep her gun facing down a hallway. Other underlings wheel out a massive laser, which begins cutting into her suit, and draining her energy. The slave lord continues to gloat. She tries every attack and weapon, and when none of them work, and the clamp too durable for her to break in time, she does the only thing she can, and tears her arm cannon off its hinges. She finishes off the lord and his men with her fists, then frees her cannon and the slaves, and flees into the desert.

One about Samus waking from a dream of the Chozo temple on Zebes, and seeing her old, worn out and dusty suit leaning in its bay. In a fit of determined inspiration she stays up all night cleaning the suit, buffing its scratches, and polishing its plates, and dressing it up in Chozo ceremonial garb (similar to the ones Raven Beak wears, but with Zebesian alphabet). When she finishes she stands to look at it, and it's beautiful. A tear smears her warpaint. When she falls again asleep, she has another dream of the temple packed wall to wall with her people, all dressed in armor in hundreds of colors, arm cannons and spears raised in salute, as they cheer her triumphant return back home.

#metroid #fan comic #ideas #samus aran

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blowflyfag · 7 months ago

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Wrestling World presents Wrestling Maniacs: JUNE 1999

TERRY FUNK: THE GUIDING LIGHT OF MAT MANIACS!

Terry Funk has become the soul of mat maniacs with the wild method of his never-say-die competition. Promoters and fans alike have come to respect Terry for his all-out, 100% effort and the way he has developed much of wrestling’s crazy style as it nears the year 2000!

By Len Matthews

HE IS the soul of hardcore. He is the guiding light of the mat maniacs. And on December 10, 1975, in Miami, FL, he pinned Jack Brisco to become the World Heavyweight Champion as recognized by the all-powerful National Wrestling Alliance. When Brisco tried to clamp on his deadly figure four leglock, he countered with a perfect inside cradle to grab the gold.

And on February 6, 1977, in Toronto, Canada, he lost the heavyweight crown to Harley Race when Race clamped on an Indian deathlock that finished the job of wrecking his knees. It looked like his career was over.

Hell, the truth is Terry Funk was just getting started.

Despite probably a dozen retirements, Terry Funk has become the soul of mat maniacs with the wild method of his never-say-die competition, both in this country and overseas. When “Bruiser” Brody tragically passed away, Funk became the bridge from the old style of mayhem to the new kind of madness.

Terry’s brother, Dory Jr., was and is the epitome of cool, calculated and cleaver wrestling. That certainly paid off for Dory Jr., as he had a four-year reign as NWA champion and today helps train promising new talent coming to the World Wrestling Federation.

Even in the 1970s, though, Terry was the opposite of his brother. Wild and crazy and unpredictable, although ever shrewd and cunning about business, Terry upset many promoters when he took the crown. Since then, more promoters have come to respect Terry for his all-out, 100% effort and the way he has adapted, in fact developed, much of wrestling’s crazy style as it nears 2000.

The injuries have been plentiful for Terry, who almost signed with the Denver Broncos after being a superb football player at West Texas State. But, like his father and brother, Terry could not resist the call of the squared circle. It is in his blood and he truly won’t retire until he drops, no matter how bad the knees and how painful the back.

Terry cut his teeth on the wild-and-woolly West Texas style of wrestling and further refined the strategy as folks like he and Brody and Stan Hansen and Abdullah the Butcher ripped, clawed, battered and destroyed their way through Japanese rings. Even now, Terry heads to Japan for some of the smaller promotions and brings them an aura of respect and big crowds.

Everyone remembers that Terry battled Atuyshi Onita in a ring which exploded and left Terry burned and bleeding before 40,000 fans.

And the feud with Abdullah was gruesome and ugly. At one point, Abdullah used a scissors to carve open Funk’s arm at the bicep and blood spilled everywhere. Terry retaliated by opening Abdullah's head and he bled buckets. How could anyone not respect, if appreciate, what Funk was willing to do for his sport?

[When Bruiser Brody tragically passed away, Terry Funk became the bridge from the old style of mayhem to the new kind of madness and, well, set the wrestling world on fire!]

Likewise, Funk helped bring a measure of legitimacy to ECW in its early days. Younger guys were taking big bumps; Terry Funk took bigger. Funk threw the moonsaults and dove off the top rope to the concrete floor. He collided with the people trying to make a name for themselves and they did, because they held their own with the legendary Terry Funk.

[Terry tussles with Sabu in a classic battle of mat maniacs!]

The amazing part is that Funk does it because he loves the business. For instance, a few years back, Terry was booked on a card in Centralia, IL, before perhaps 500 fans. His opponent was powerful Ron Powers, a Brody protege who never really got a break because of politics. Powers was primed and pumped to make a reputation by giving Terry Funk a few lumps.

What a war! Not on television. In the ring and out. If Funk swatted Powers with a chair, Powers banged Terry right back. The confrontation spilled into the crowd and the two gladiators crashed into a concession stand. Soon Powers, younger and stronger, started to take control. After Funk missed a dive from the top rope to the floor-some 15 feet or more–Powers scored from a leg drop from the top rope.

And wily ol’ Terry Funk hooked him with an inside cradle when Powers tried to cover. One, two, three. Powers went berserk and the two again traded blows until Funk was hurled over the top rope.

Afterward, in the relative calm of the dressing room, Funk approached Powers and talked to him quietly. The message was kid, you’ve got what it takes, don’t quit and never hold back. Go full throttle all the time.

It was probably that influence which the WWF wanted in its chaotic dressing rooms and unpredictable rings when Funk came on board as “Chainsaw Charlie.” With panty hose on his head and swinging a chainsaw, Terry Funk was “over” from the first night a bell sounded. So-called stars who occasionally gave the effort and sometimes not were shamed into being professional by the things Funk did night after night.

Think back to the remarkable duels with Mankind, or Cactus Jack. As partners, what a team and it’s a cinch that Mick Foley grew up with Terry Funk as an idol. Remember when they banged heads with the New Age Outlaws. Age certainly meant nothing to Terry Funk, who was right there tooth-and-nail for every battle.

[A former NWA World Champion, Terry turns the tables on another former World Champ Bret “Hitman” Hart!

Photos by Dr. Mike Lano

The number of matches that have seen Funk left battered and bleeding on the mat are too numerous to count!]

When they bumped heads and became opponents, they literally wrecked arenas. Mankind prides himself on being crazy and willing to do anything. Terry Funk pushed him to new levels and made Mankind find even nuttier things to do.

Think back a few years when Terry Funk had a tremendous run in World Championship Wrestling. His bouts with Ric Flair are still regarded as classics. Funk was in the middle of so many wars and so much excitement. When he left WCW, Funk said he was going to retire. Hmmm? It was followed by tours in Japan, more ECW, independent shots and then the WWF tenure.

So is it any wonder that there were more than a few skeptics when Funk left the WWF and declared he was finished?

Since that departure, which many felt was due to Funk’s disgust with the internal politics at the WWF more than anything, Terry has headlined in Japan and even popped up in ECW. Apparently, one Tommy Dreamer is about to learn from clashing with one Terry Funk head-on.

The irony of all this is that Terry Funk has all the attributes of a classic grappler. He knows the holds, the escapes, the takedowns. But more importantly, Funk has always understood what modern pro wrestling is and has to be to survive.

When the time changed, Funk not only changed with them. He initiated many of the changes. He sensed that fans wanted more violence, more pizzazz and he gave it to them.

When young wrestlers and new promotions needed that vital boost, Terry was there to give it to them. And when the big-money giants need a shot in the arm, Terry Funk gave that to them as well.

Of course, Terry Funk has gotten his share as well. What better way to get the last laugh than to have the bucks and the total respect of your peers as the soul of wrestling?

[A wily veteran, Terry Funk certainly knows how to fight fire with fire!]

#terry funk #magazine scan #magazine transcript #Wrestling Maniacs #Wrestling Maniacs 1990s #1990s #1999

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ejzah · 2 years ago

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Can you do a Drabble where someone from the team scolds Hetty for what she put Deeks and Kensi through in the past like their separation.

A/N: Oh look, a chance to unload some feelings. Fair warning, this is probably quite different than what you imagined, contains a bit more than a scolding, and is fairly dramatic.

Title adapted from one of Nell’s lines in “Mother”. This also takes place sometime post “Mother”.

***

When You Play God

Nell set a completed set of files to the side, checking over her list. She’d signed off on all the month’s expense and mileage reports while Eric ran some searches, and if she timed it right, she just might have a chance to warm up her coffee before tackling yet more paperwork in between fielding calls with Eric.

She offered him a smile as she held up her half-full mug of cooled coffee, and marched downstairs. Luckily, there was still a fresh pot (god bless Eric) and she filled her cup up, adding a healthy pour of cream.

“Ah, Miss Jones, just who I was looking for,” Hetty said, appearing behind Nell unexpectedly. Nell turned just enough to acknowledge her, picking up her mug of coffee and a stack of files she grabbed along the way. “I need you to find something for me.”

“I’m a little bit busy right now, Hetty,” Nell responded evenly.

“I understand that, but this is important.”

“So is all the work I have waiting for me in OPS.

Hetty leaned back slightly, eyes widening behind her glasses. Nell thought she looked particularly tiny in a her tailored suit.

“Have I don’t something to offend you Miss Jones?” she asked softly.

“Oh no, nothing at all. You just left me in charge, again, without any position real authority while you go off to who knows where,” Nell said ruthlessly, fingers clamped so tightly around her mug, ached. “Do you think you can just pop back in whenever you want and expect nothing to change?”

“I only give as much as I think my agents can handle, Nell. You must know that I care about you and would never do anything to purposely harm you.

Nell made an incredulous sound and spun around. “You’ve spent years manipulating all of us and yet you have the audacity to act like the benevolent parent. Do you even know the damage you’ve caused? The last three years alone, you’ve just disappeared without warning, leaving messes behind, then returning to cause more chaos.”

“Unfortunately, some being a leader requires difficult decisions,” Hetty replied with the same sense of confusion and patience one might reserve for a petulant child. It enraged Nell even more.

“Really? So, when you separated Kensi and Deeks while he had just started to recover from what Sidorov did to him kept you up at night? You let them believe it was because of their relationship. Was that done with good will?”

Without realizing it, her voice had risen steadily, loud enough that anyone walking by would hear, but she didn’t care.

“Let’s not even get into sending Kensi to Afghanistan without telling her why, which ended up in her being kidnapped and tortured.”

Hetty’s mouth dropped open slightly, and Nell felt a dark pleasure at her discomfort. She took a step back as Nell advanced on her.

“What about what you did to Callen and all those other children. Akhos tried to destroy you and everyone around you.” Her voice trembled, now a whisper as he jabbed her finger at Hetty. “Does that keep you up at night?”

Inhaling shakily, Nell crossed her arms over her chest, in a futile attempt to quell the tremors running through her body. In front of her, Hetty hunched, and defeated. Nell expected to feel a certain vindication, but any satisfaction had evaporated.

“I didn’t realize it had come to this,” she said with a shake of her head. “There was one time when you wanted to be like me.”

“That was when I still trusted you. When I still believed that you had our best interest in mind. When I was hopelessly naive.”

“I am so very sorry that I made you feel that way. I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to earn your forgiveness.” Hetty gazed at Nell, her expression suggesting she already suspected the answer.

“No,” Nell told her simply. “This is the price you pay when try to play God, Hetty. You lose everything.”

Hetty sighed heavily, the closest she ever came to regret, shining in her eyes. “I see. I will let you return to your work, then.”

She turned, moving slowly towards her desk. A heaviness settled in her chest, but she ignored it. “I’m sorry too,” she whispered, sad for what used to be and what could never be again.

***

A/N: As I said, this one got away from me and took an entirely different route from the prompt. It just worked out to give this one to Nell, who seemed so very disillusioned with Hetty.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #Nell Jones #Hetty #mentions of most of the team #angst #references to Mother #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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boundinparchment · 2 years ago

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Deus In Absentia - IX

The first time was a coincidence. The second time was a fluke. But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate. Or, more likely, a calculated trap. Reposted from my previous blog, @/zhonglis-empty-wallet AO3

After the news of Signora’s death, it was no surprise when you were told to head to Sumeru. Tartaglia was dispatched to Inazuma to hunt for clues the Balladeer left behind; Dottore would head to Sumeru to, ideally, cut the Sixth off before he managed to use the Gnosis.

“Anyone at the Akademiya would have a field day helping him,” Dottore grumbled. “Some spend their whole lives never finishing their dissertations. I will not stand for my work being stolen from me.”

His prideful rants fooled many. You knew better.

So did the Tsaritsa.

He didn’t want to go. If he had his way, he would remain in Haeresys and continue investigating the Gnoses they had to find a way to harness their power. Field work of any kind was a waste of time for him, especially now with the Queen and a Rook in their possession.

But when the Tsaritsa laid her pain of the loss of the Fair Lady before her Harbinger’s feet, duty took its place, as it always did.

As it always would.

And you would take yours, at his side. For even you, unblessed and without a Vision, couldn’t stand to see the Tsaritsa shed tears.

______________________

You were used to the land of Cryo, where the air was frigid and dry and sucked the moisture out of everything. Initially, it grew warmer but was initially refreshing. The further south you went, the stickier and heavier the air became, clinging to your skin and hair and clothes. Dottore adapted with little issue; his coat was shoved into the nearest bag, along with his bowtie, and he rolled up his sleeves with great care. You tried not to stare too hard at his exposed neck and clavicle when he eventually undid the upper buttons of his shirt.

He threw a sharp-toothed grin your way when he caught you staring but said nothing. You could tell by the glint in his eye that he took note and was filing the thought away for later. You followed his example, however, and abandoned your top layers, immediately relieved of their heaviness.

You passed through a dense forest first, filled with creatures and plants you’d only ever seen in children’s books. In a different life, if you’d had the means, no doubt you would have come this way to attend the Akademiya yourself. Lush, green, vibrant; everything Sneznhaya wasn’t. Life thrived here, as rich as the knowledge that was collected and consumed.

Mondstadt was pretty but this…

It was everything the land of snow wasn’t. Humidity be damned.

Of course, you’d seen parts of Teyvat first-hand outside of your…predicament (less a predicament now, you amended). But some of it only ever existed in illustrations and in text. The thick underbrush made it difficult to traverse and at first, you couldn’t stand the touch of the leaves on your face and exposed skin. It tickled, uncomfortably so, until you grew used to the sensation when it couldn’t be avoided. Plants were impossible to keep in the harsh climate back home and many of them had needles instead of leaves.

Overhead, wide leaves sheltered you from the sweltering sun. They looked like giant water lily pads, save their large, trunk-like stem that rooted them to the earth beneath your feet. Tentatively, you reached out a hand to touch the greenery and found the stem to be fuzzy but incredibly solid.

“You’re lagging, Archivist!”

Your traveling party, Dottore included, were far ahead of you, almost out of sight. When you caught up with the Harbinger, a hand clamped around your wrist as the two accompanying agents taking point continued on. When you went to take a step forward, Dottore pulled you back, and you cast a questioning look up at him.

“It is easy to become disoriented here, where the trails are far overgrown,” Dottore hissed, his breath hot in your ear. “Do not fall behind again. Leopards love hunting in these parts.”

Was he speaking from experience?

Before you could ask, he pulled away, eyes looking around for a moment before stopping on a place over your shoulder. You swore he was almost concerned but maybe being back in the Land of Knowledge was putting him on edge. The hold on your wrist slackened as he told you to go on ahead and stick with the accompanying agents. He didn’t move until you were almost out of sight, the forest eerily still behind you as you made your way forward, calling for your travel companions to wait up.

You tried not to think about the familiar sound of catalyst shots coming from the path behind you.

______________________

The entire trip was much shorter than expected.

At first, you didn’t understand the lack of secrecy, especially with the pace news of the Fatui was traveling. The visit to Mondstadt had been planned by Krupp, their party expected. Here, they were hunting for someone who didn’t want to be found and yet Dottore made no effort to hide, making scholars who recognized him in any capacity visibly uncomfortable.

A deal, struck beneath the scorching sun; a Gnosis in exchange for the end of political manipulation. A child placed on a throne, subject to the whims of the Sages.

It worked, in the end.

And in the end, the Traveler from the Stars was too late.

You watched from the sidelines as Dottore interrupted a meeting between the Sages, sitting at a raised half-table and forced to look at one another. It was almost Socratic if it wasn’t a cabal of out-of-touch academics with their heads up their asses. They shouted, protested, but it did nothing to stop the Harbinger’s approach, long legs carrying him across the room and up the dais with the same ease at which he controlled Ruin creations.

“You can’t be in here!”

“Who do you think you are?”

The laugh that shattered the cacophony of shouts was blood-curdling.

“What kind of question is that?” Dottore snapped, body heaving from a moment to recover from the cackle. “‘Who do I think I am?’ I’m the one who discovered the truth about our world, Boaz. In a different life, I would be in your seat.”

You couldn’t see much from behind but Dottore’s hand reached up and when it came back down, you saw the outline of his mask. It wasn’t hard to imagine the expression he bore, mouth wide and teeth bared in a mockery of a smile, red eyes wide and gleaming.

“You all mocked me, here, in this very room,” Dottore lectured. “Called me a madman for augmenting humans, for daring to think it possible to surpass godhood, ascend into something greater without a Vision, without Celestia. And yet here you sit, having done the very same. At the pace at which students burn out, I’m surprised this isn’t a factory in Fontaine!”

Protests and appeals to ego failed. The stairs of the dais ran red with blood after several flashes from Dottore’s floating needles.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t the Traveler that arrived first, but the Renegade, bruised and aching from a battle that took too much out of him. You expected more blood to be shed between them, to feel the air crackle with power and the nauseating scent of Mist Grass.

But instead, another bargain. The Gnosis in exchange for a reset. For a second chance. After all, no one outside of the Electro Archon knew Kunikuzushi’s construction and inner workings as well as Dottore. And fighting was an inefficient use of time and power.

“Archivist.”

You’d never been privy to these moments before. And now you served as assistant, staring into bundles of wires and glowing synapses, holding things out of the way and adjusting the handheld light Dottore always kept on him.

When the light from the indigo eyes faded slowly, Dottore sealed the puppet’s chest cavity back up. He scribbled a note and tucked it into the puppet’s hand to be found later, no doubt instructions for whoever found him.

“Two birds, one stone, Archivist. And with time to spare, too. Come, let’s celebrate!”

______________________

Fontaine was less straightforward, more what you came to expect out of the social scene you were privy to. The spectacle of the court was all a farce. You heard the rumors that Fontaine was running out of resources to continue fueling its infrastructure, sending researchers out to find a new viable source or method of extraction. That the land was either a place of great happiness and success or absolute misery and pain that many sought to escape.

It didn’t take a genius to see why. A Celestial Nail hovered over the Courthouse. Inequality and illness was as clear as the air in Mondstadt and as unforgiving as a broken contract in Liyue.

“Judges with no consideration for both sides of the scales often get it wrong,” Dottore glowered during the main event, a masquerade and heist. “She speaks of Justice as though an iron fist solves all.”

He was nursing the same glass of wine all night, his eyes constantly scanning the room. Even with Columbina and Arleccino, this heist might go smoothly now that the Guest of Honor, the Outlander, flitted about the room. With them, a familiar head of red hair. The Ragnivindar Heir was throwing looks at the Harbinger all night but maintaining the air of civility and elegance expected of him.

The partnership between Fatui and Outlander was threadbare, connected only by mutual frustration and interest in seeing the Fontainian people free from Celestia’s possible wrath.

Sumeru brought out painful memories, ones Dottore could laugh off easily enough as trials of youth in pursuit of Truth. But the Land of Justice, with its soaring buildings, whirring machines, and an undercity constantly aflame to keep the upper city running brought out something deeper, something darker still. After all, its very people chased him away, ran him out of what should have been a home, burned his face to mark him, should he ever return. Chances were, some of those people were in this very room.

You laid a hand on his arm, breaking his concentration on Columbina bowing before the Archon, promising the show of a lifetime.

Ruby eyes looked down at you, malice and vengeful pride fading as if seeing you properly for the first time that night. He’d gushed over the outfit Columbina painstakingly assembled for you earlier but that had been appeasement to the other Harbinger, a show of goodwill and bravado. In your opinion, the Little Dove did a marvelous job in making you feel a part of the show, rather than a member of the chorus that hovered in the wings. But now, in the relative privacy of the darker corners of the ballroom, Dottore’s free hand traced the ruffles and fine silks, dancing along the seams along your side. You weren’t sure if he was admiring the quality or studying its construction in order to undo it all once everything here was complete.

“You’ve done nothing but glower from the corner all evening,” you teased. “It seems a shame to waste this once-in-a-lifetime evening, Lord Harbinger, by sitting in the shadows.”

“It’s not so dark here, not with you. But I suppose you’re right. It would be a shame to waste such magnificence by keeping it all to myself.”

The music swelled again, indicating the lull for food and drink was over, and Dottore swept you into the crowd on the ballroom floor. At first, you unconsciously attempted to lead, which resulted in the Harbinger pressing you closer, or as close as the dance allowed without restricting movement for either of you. You stumbled over your feet for a moment, narrowly managing to avoid stepping on your partner’s shoes.

“Relax, Archivist.”

Easy for him to say. You’d merely be joking, you hadn’t expected him to actually bring you both into the spotlight. He never danced at other events you attended together; Dottore offered conversation as an alternative but you never figured out whether it was because he needed the stimulation or if he was possibly a poor dance partner.

It certainly wasn’t the latter. As far as you could tell, every step was on beat, every turn with the flourish of notes right on cue.

The Harbinger gave your hands a shake when your fingers tightened, his other hand roaming from your shoulder blades to your waist. When he whispered your name, you loosened your grip a little, and let the subtle cues such as the press against your waist or slight pull of your arm guide you.

“Much better. Music is nothing but an assembly of notes and instruments working in tandem, a machine with a predictable pattern. Dancing is merely an extension of it; constructs matching the pattern, in sync with one another first and foremost.”

Eyes fell upon you for the rest of the night, curious whispers escaping the lips of strangers about the Doctor’s fascinating companion. It was the opposite of what you’d wanted, the opposite of his usual treatment of these events. You admitted, however, that it was nice to feel acknowledged in a more open space, even if the truth was only known to both of you.

The Archon had been so lost in her Judgment of those in her presence that she’d completely overlooked that four visitors were nowhere to be seen.

It didn’t take long, however, for sheer coincidence to do its job. A furnace in a crowded factory exploded, its attendant exhausted and overworked, accidentally increasing the fuel intake far beyond capacity. Nearby facilities were quick to light, one after another. The entire Undercity, burning, while the rich and powerful danced above. By the time the festivities were ending, the Archon had little time or attention to spare on whether her Gnosis was in her possession any longer.

Escaping hadn’t been easy, between the smoke and debris and chaos. You were one of the only ones unable to fight your way through, stuck relying on the protection of others. The entire party was dressed in singed finery but easy targets for those capitalizing on the panic. During a lull, Dottore plucked the Gnosis from the Traveler’s hand and said this was where they parted ways. His laugh was almost drowned out by the roar of the flames around them when the Traveler asked about the people of Fontaine, those who could still be saved. With a graceful flourish, he removed his mask, his grin widening as the Traveler’s eyes drank in his true visage.

“They burned me, Traveler! Called me a heretic, a monster! Burned my face and drove me out of my home! You’re a fool if you think these pathetic excuses for people need or even deserve to be saved. Let them burn!”

The fight was beyond anything you’d seen before, even in the arena of Haeresys. At first, it was merely catalyst versus sword, nothing remarkable. But the Traveler wouldn’t relent, leaving the Harbinger no choice but to use more of his Anemo Delusion, summoning stray pieces of nearby machinery and assembling several Ruin guards at once. Although he continued to taunt and laugh as the Traveler and their companions attempted to control the situation, you could see that the power draw took a quick toll; his posture wasn’t as rigid, his reaction time just a bit too slow.

The Ruin machines were enough of a distraction, though. While they were occupied, Dottore bid them adieu and before you knew it, you were leaving the smoke-filled streets behind. The Delusion’s power took more out of him than he let on, the Harbinger stopping when you were finally high enough and away from the city proper to let out a series of choking coughs. You pretended not to see the specs of fresh blood that made their way onto his gloves, and the trickle that continued out of the corner of his mouth. He didn’t move right away, breathing once, and then twice, silently assessing his body. Dottore took a step, another, and you managed to curl your body under his arm and catch him in time before his knees met the earth. It took everything in you not to buckle beneath his deadweight, his body no longer yielding to him, pushed to the point of exhaustion.

“Damn this prison of flesh,” he muttered, so low you almost missed it. Louder, he said, “This view, Archivist, is worth every painful breath. Now if only it would climb higher still and take that damn Nail with it.”

Your last memory of the beautiful city was nothing more than an orange glow and a collection of burning spires.

______________________

As soon as you both returned to Sneznhaya, Dottore handed over the Hydro Gnosis and then locked himself in his lab, demanding not to be disturbed.

By doing so, however, he locked the other assistants, including you, out. You tried not to take it personally but usually he simply shuttered himself away in his study instead. He hated inefficiency, disrupting a workflow that was making progress. By sealing everyone else out, he was halting other projects. You very well couldn’t do your work from the corridors.

To say nothing of the chasm that the sealed door left in your heart. Of all people, not even you, were allowed inside? Without even so much as an explanation? Scaramouche’s words came back, flitting around in your mind. You shouldn’t make the mistake of thinking there is room in his heart; he doesn’t have one.

He wouldn’t see you. Day after day, you waited, sometimes pounded on the steel doors. But they wouldn’t open. Rumors of an impending fight with Celestia and the wayward Traveler circulated for weeks as you tried to at least keep on top of more current events. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that perhaps there was more than a grain of truth in them when active Fatui recruits were drilling more than usual and the once-grand corridors and foyers of the Palace were stocked with supplies and weapons.

It wasn’t until the Tsaritsa herself, accompanied by Pierro, that the doors yielded, allowing two more to pass through once, and then again hours later, that the gravity of the situation finally solidified. The Archon Herself would demand her Harbingers come to Her, not the other way around. When she returned to the surface, you found yourself looking into eyes the color of freshly fallen snow in the morning sun, tinged with the faintest hint of blue, before averting your gaze respectfully.

You did not expect the Tsaritsa to clasp one of your hands in hers and then cup your cheek, her hands frigid but soft and tender. Comforting in their lack of warmth.

“The events to come will test us all, Archivist. Take care of my doctor, won’t you? He is hardly the same without your presence.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” you replied.

You descended down into Haeresys as soon as the Tsaritsa was out of sight, your cheek still stinging from her touch, as if frost-nipped. When you reached the lab proper, you were presented with the familiar sight of Dottore’s back, the shift of his shoulders indicating that he was working on something in front of him.

“Lord Harbinger?”

He stilled in his actions, lifting his head slowly before turning part-way.

“Archivist. They were evacuating civilian Fatui members. You shouldn’t be here.”

Dottore turned back to his workbench but you didn’t move. He continued to tinker, as if ignoring your presence was going to somehow make you disappear.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Archivist. You are not needed.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

A slam echoed in the cavernous space as Dottore threw down his tool and then adjusted something quickly before turning to face you entirely. His entire left forearm and hand, once bone, sinew, and flesh, was nothing more than steel and rivets and hinges. Your eyes followed the arm up, to his shoulder, where metal met flesh, and although he was dressed, the fabric fell differently than it used to on one of his legs and across his chest. Squinting, you noticed a seam around his jaw, just hidden by his mask. The usual corner of his mouth was still skin, his eyes were still clearly those of a human.

Had he…spent all of these weeks…augmenting himself?

“I have built a god with my own two hands, Archivist. I have no need for anyone else. And I will be damned if everything is ripped from me now, if I failed. Fontaine was a testament to just how imperfect I am. And perfection is a necessity for victory. I couldn’t let Nasha Tsaritsa see me like that…couldn’t let you see me so weak, so useless.”

“Why would I ever see you as such?” you asked. “You’ve never been weak, not to me. Hasn’t that been abundantly clear this entire time?”

How could someone who dared to question the status quo not once but several times and dedicate his entire existence to proving it be weak? When everything was stacked against him, he kept going, whatever the cost…

Whatever the cost. Even if it meant his humanity. Your eyes stung with unshed tears, threatening to spill not out of disappointment but pain. What kind of place had he been in to do this…and what kind of pain did he experience making it happen?

Dottore approached you, eyes trained on your face, his hands behind his back. “You’ve always been so loyal, Archivist. So dutiful despite our…”

Something heavy and cold pressed against your chin, lifting your head. You vaguely felt the shape of the wrench, recognized the handle through blurry vision.

“…initial misunderstanding. One of the best assistants I’ve ever had. Proof that not all humans are disappointing, that perhaps one such as myself may find solace and peace that quiets my mind, if only temporarily. I know you almost as well as I know myself. Which means that, if I asked something of you, I have no doubt what your answer would be.”

“That would depend.”

Whatever conviction your words held died when your voice wavered.

“Your self-preservation would demand it, if your metaphorical heart did not,” he added your name at the end as the wrench fell away. “But I wouldn’t expect you to make anything less than an informed decision.”

He placed the tool on the workbench with a clatter and pressed his palms to the surface, his back towards you. The light from flickering lamps nearby cast dancing shadows about the room, tendrils flickering and distorting against the stone. His earring cast a light of its own, aquamarine illuminating his profile as he turned his head over his shoulder to speak.

“Will you fight? Will you serve Nasha Tsaritsa and stand with me against the tyranny of Celestia?”

You were never good at combat. You’d kept a Fontaine-made pistol at your shop under the counter for safe-keeping and took the courses on how to use it, but you’d never had to. And whenever you’d gone out in the field, it was never in a capacity to fight. If you’d been a proper recruit, at least you’d have a foundation and understanding of weaponry.

“You know the price of a Delusion, Archivist. But you also know the price of letting Celestia win. Which will it be?”

You thought of Khaenri’ah, of Enkanomiya, of Dragonspine, of Fontaine. Of Celestial Nails and the destruction of everything you knew. Sneznhaya…no, every nation, would be nothing more than a remnant, a footnote in history. People who tried and failed and others who never had a chance. If you didn’t fight, if you didn’t try, then what was the point of the previous months of work? At least if you fought, you had a chance at survival.

A chance at life, anew. Be it here or somewhere else in Teyvat.

Maybe you would even get to see the real sky, real stars, see the universes beyond the Veil…perhaps with…

You slowly, cautiously, closed the distance between the both of you. You pressed a hand to his back, feeling strong shoulder muscles as you wrapped your other arm around him, metal plates rather than the usual warmth of skin around his front. For a moment, his breath hitched, the smallest pause in what was probably no longer a biological need. But still, a mark that perhaps he was still not entirely lost.

“I am yours, Lord Harbinger. And I will fight by your side.”

#fic: deus in absentia #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore x gender neutral reader #il dottore x gender neutral reader

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hpcestfest · 1 year ago

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HP Cest Fest 2023: Week 3 ☕️

📖 The Forbidden Forest Retreat | E | 16,800 Harry Potter/James Sirius Potter

Urged by Ron, Harry signs up for a weekend spa and holistic getaway at the Forbidden Forest Retreat where they are notorious for their “happy endings”. To avoid being caught, he goes under a glamour and finds out it’s his son giving the ultra-special erotic massage he signed up for. He should have stopped as soon as he made his discovery, but curiosity has always been his downfall.

📖 The Love of a Wife | E | 2,600 Sirius Black/Draco Malfoy

Sirius didn't know how the fuck things managed to work out like this; his underage cousin dressed only in a pink frilly apron, clamps on his little tits and bouncing away on his cock like it was the only thing he was born to do. What he does know is that Draco is the perfect little wife and the boy has fallen completely in love with him.

📖 Beneath the Light of the Full Moon | E | 5,200 Sirius Black/Regulus Black

Regulus is turned into a werewolf and kicked out of Grimmauld Place by his parents, forcing him to seek shelter with Sirius and the Potters. Sirius, grateful for the chance to mend their relationship, welcomes him with open arms. As they Sirius tries to navigate the full moon with his brother and rebuild what's been broken, he finds that he and Regulus will have to confront secrets they've been hiding from each other.

📖 The dragon tamer | E | 2,000 Charlie Weasley/Harry Potter/Fred Weasley/George Weasley

Harry wants information about dragons. Who is better than Charlie in providing them?

📖 The Bonds of Blood | E | 4,100 Molly Weasley/Ignatius Prewett

It was an open secret that at least one of her children wasn't Arthur's.

📖 Sins of the Mother (back to haunt her) | E | 3,100 Merope Gaunt/Voldemort

Merope, pregnant and alone, meets a man who looks just like her husband and believes he has returned to her. Time-travelling Voldemort doesn’t bother to inform her otherwise, at first.

📖 Untouchable | E | 11,870 Regulus Black/Sirius Black/James Potter/Remus Lupin

James and Remus have started to notice their boyfriend Sirius is a little too close to his brother Regulus. It all comes to a head when a certain brother's name is called out during sex.

📖 Abraxas Malfoy's Guide to Grooming an Heir | E | 1,600 Abraxas Malfoy/Scorpius Malfoy (🔒 account required)

Every Malfoy heir is born to be bred, and Scorpius is no exception.

📖 Necessary Tools for a Spy's (And Malfoy's) Survival | E | 4,700 Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape

With Draco's failure to smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts it was another mark against the Malfoys. As punishment, the Dark Lord demanded he be fucked and humiliated in front of his inner circle. When Lucius refused to participate, Severus once again stepped in to save them. Whether or not he had ulterior, personal motives for fucking his godson was irrelevant. He would do what was necessary to protect Draco to the best of his abilities, and while the circumstances were far from ideal, no one ever claimed Severus was lacking adaptability.

📖 Pregame traditions | E | 900 Albus Severus Potter/James Sirius Potter

When there was nobody else around for his pregame traditions, except Albus, James decided winning was more important than the mere fact that they are brothers.

📖 Your Hell is Jealous of the Rain | E | 21,000 Regulus Black/Sirius Black (🔒 account required)

Regulus knows how to give Sirius what he's too afraid to take.

#hp cest fest #hp cest fest 2023 #pottercest #blackcest #malfoycest #gauntcest #prewettcest #weasleycest #cw incest #cw pseudo incest #hp cest fest 2023 week 3

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thattimdrakeguy · 1 year ago

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Every time i see someone try to defend James Gunn, they just repeat what he said while acting like it's genius. And it reminds me of apes eating their own shit.

like thanks, luv, really fucking putting in the man power to add to the conversation

couldn't give less of a shit people might like it, 'cause have you seen the dc fandom? they'll eat anything as long as it vaguely looks like something they may or may not like, or at least something in the peripheral of what they like

and it isn't a crime to like stuff, but it also isn't a crime to not like stuff either, honey bunch

but fucking hell. over a thousand likes on tweets that are saying absolutely nothing of merit. and i am so confused

No shit he's only going to be saying shit people want to hear.

And I'm some Snyder Cult bastard, I don't think I liked any Snyder DC movie all the way. Most of them were severely lacking.

but so many of james gunn's decisions are still wack as fuck

like how many of zack snyder's decisions are wack as fuck

James Gunn's skipping how many robins? and i know, he says he'll have all of them, but fucking hell that's so ridiculous if this universe is supposed to last awhile. all those stories that you can take inspiration from, critically adored stories that have immense cinematic potential

and james gunn's bright idea IS TO MAKE A BASTARDIZED ADAPTATION OF A STORY THAT ONLY WORKED BECAUSE OF VERY VERY SPECIFIC SITUATIONS THAT HE IS PURPOSELY NOT GONNA HAVE

that is one of the stupidest things i've ever heard in my life. the fact i haven't seen more people say that sounds ridiculous is baffling me. because while i can sometimes get why people wouldn't sometimes with many other things i say, i cannot with this. it's like he's TRYING to make a shitty batman movie. or at least an insanely disappointing one that let go of the gold he had literally right in front of him

i'm not asking for a word by word, panel by panel recreation of a story. JUST USE THE OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY EXISTING FANTASTIC WORK INSTEAD OF COMPLETELY MISUNDERSTANDING WHY AN okay at best STORY WORKED

and he's going to have all these random movies, but not include characters that would be important to the greater DC world?

and he got the guy that directed a flash parody and pretended it was a serious movie to do this batman movie? when he made batman look like the Dude from Big Lewbowski and talk in a way that didn't even resemble Batman? and made all of his problems seem like a joke?

also while they're making sequels the critically acclaimed Batman movie, that people are more likely to look more forward to, because even though i didn't care for the movie, it at least looks like some cinematic effort was put into it enough to be an enjoyable watch that doesn't make you question your life choices because of how stupid it is. it's a lacking movie to me, but at least i feel like the people involved tried in a way that didn't feel like a child writing a fan fiction

'cept maybe a teenager, with kurt cobain inspired batman

i don't have to take a side to decide shit is wack as fuck

many thinks, are incredibly wack

i am a human being with a brain, i can look at things and figure out that shit looks like it's going to be total garbage, and will at best only be a good movie if you know jack shit or have no standards

just watch and talk about shit like human beings. i don't care if you like it or not, because you know what saying falsified bullshit about a guy you don't know or like, looks like? like you're a fucking maniac

like it

don't like it

but why is it so hard to people act like people? i keep avoiding anything DC related on my recommended trends on twitter, then i have a moment where i hope for the best, and every time, it's just garbage everywhere

it's not difficult to consume things in a world layered with shades of gray.

this black and white bullshit is fucking infuriating and makes it real hard to enjoy anything, when you have an echo chamber of dumbasses clamping down on it on the internet

i'm not even asking people to act like well-mannered gentlemen. that would be boring, and i feel people should be free to express their emotions as long as they aren't hurting anyone

i'm just asking them to think a little harder before they say the dumbest shit imaginable

james gunn is the guy who made one of the main points of guardians 3, that heroes don't kill people. while every appearance of the characters is them killing people, because they deserve to be killed.

like i'm not making a plea about the importance of the death penalty

but giving an obviously highly dangerous person, who has the potential to dismantle the fucking universe at least a smackrel of a chance to get out, is fucking stupid

it's stupid

superman letting lex luthor live, because he's just a man, and hasn't done anything to that extreme, may make that make sense

having batman not kill because he's worried he won't stop killing himself gives us an interest character perspective

giving the villain who still has a chance to be better, a chance to get better, allows that moral to be a thing

but letting the heroic murderers let the guy that killed conceivably BILLIONS AND BILLIONS, UPON BILLIONS OF PEOPLE DIE BECAUSE HE WAS JUST A TICKLE UNPLEASED

STUPID

i'm not trusting that mother fucker to make a whole universe work. when his movies before have only worked, exclusively because they were allowed to be their own things in the corner of a universe, where they hardly have any meaning to the rest of the world, besides a relation to the big stories big bad

he is a good film maker. i like most of his movies

but fucking hell. it's not insanity to insist the guy who has shown he makes bad decisions so far, may be making bad decisions. even if in the end the decisions may not be AWFUL

it doesn't mean he's doing a good job in the slightest

i'll give the fact he isn't bringing back the whole justice league a break, because we just had a justice league and maybe time will be good

but his other decisions make him look like a moron to me

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