#Yes it shouldn't repeat itself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rychlostthespacewizard · 3 months ago

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Alright so apparently you guys really liked my posts on quotes. So i'll do this again:

i collected more random quotes and now i have 265

Here are them, in no order. Feel free to comment which ones are your favorites:

1. "You are naught but a nail dreaming itself a hammer."

2. "Each inch of our lands are littered with the ruins of empires that dared to dream of eternity and deemed themselves endless. "

3. "You walk upon bones of those who thought they could tame the wild, and yet dare to repeat their sins?"

4. "I had only one thought before the slaughter. This man will not make an orphan of my daughter"

5. "Culture shouldn't exist only for those who can afford it"

6. "The path of revenge is not an honorable one but sometimes it is the only one beneath your feet"

7. "Act confounded and you'll become enlightened"

8. "Those who test boundaries find cliffs"

9. "Aftermath is the sum of poor calculation"

10. "Consequence favors the foolish"

11. "Consequence befriends the foolish"

12. "If you desire fire stroke the flame"

13. "The lack of restraint encourages fallout"

14. 'A reckless temperament perfectly tempts fate"

15. 'Incautious provocation bears unwanted education"

16. "Am I doing the right choice marrying her?" -"Each and every moment with her will be worth it tenfold"

17. "What troubles you, my hunter? Do you not hear the call of the hunt? Or do you wish to stir something more from the depths of this nightmare?"

18. "A chicken that follows a duck drowns."

19. "A dog bitten by a snake is even afraid of sausage."

20. "A sparrow that follows a clay builder becomes a bricklayer's helper."

21. "A scoundrel's hat is a sledgehammer."

22. "In the land of the one-legged, every kick is a trip."

23. "In the land of the fearful, every pillowcase is a ghost."

24. "Pretend to be a piglet to nurse lying down."

25. "A sleeping alligator becomes a lady's purse."

26. "A bird that eats stones knows the butt it has."

27. "He who eats quietly, eats always."

28. "A chicken that follows a bat sleeps upside down."

29. "More lost than an olive in a toothless mouth."

30. "More lost than an onion in a fruit salad."

31. "Velvet pants, bare butt."

32. "He who is afraid of snakes doesn't go into the woods."

33. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."

34. "He who has no ears doesn't wear glasses."

35. "Palaces of silver and gold cannot be built overnight."

36. "I have the body of a pig"

37. "Lies? in your house of god?"

38. "Do not mistake my altruism with indifference. I shall not lay the wicked among the fair; the love of the gods is not unconditional, and neither is mine."

39. "The gods may judge you but their sins outnumber yours."

40. "The future is not written and it is foolish to squint at what cannot be read."

41. "Not all places exist to be found. Sometimes one must revel in the shadows to truly see the light."

42. "Did the man who first discovered fire consider the burned houses? Or did he simply sleep with a full stomach?"

43. "A falling knife has no handle"

44. "How does it feel? For i am the conclusion to your story, and you are but a page in my book."

45. "Don’t kill me. Please. I am scared." “You are?” "Yes. I am scared to not exist. Aren’t you?"

46. "I am a monument to all your sins."

47. "I’ll do whatever you want. Then Perish."

48. "To become a god is the loneliest achievement of all."

49. "I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me."

50. "All knowledge is based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?"

51. "Nobody likes to change. There will always be resistance to change. And the quicker you get to that, the easier it is. It's not such a difficult thing. If you entrench yourself and go, 'by the gods, I will not change. I will not have this.’ Then, you’re a dead man. We're great at adaptability. It's our strongest suit."

52. "You’ve got to make a statement. You’ve got to look inside yourself and say: 'what am I willing to put up with today?’"

53. "Whenever you look at another creator or an artist that you respect, you're only seeing what took them a long time of work and doubt to push through. You never see the struggle behind it. So you think you’re the only one struggling, when in fact, everyone goes through it."

54. "Too many people have opinions on things they know nothing about. And the more ignorant they are, the more opinions they have."

55. "Pick a god and pray."

56. "I see now that the circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

57. "Dude, sucking at something is the first step towards being sort of good at something."

58. "There’s no point in being grown up if you can’t act childish at times."

59. "Men are props on the stage of life, and no matter how tender, how exquisite... A lie will remain a lie."

60. "If you want me to die, just say so. "

61. "Then become the dirt I walk on."

62. "To feel sorrow is to deserve peace."

63. "Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. You cannot kill me in a way that matters."

64. "You are alone, child. There is only darkness for you, and only death for your people. These ancients are just the beginning. I will command a great and terrible army... and we will sail to a billion worlds. We will sail until every light has been extinguished. You are strong, child. But I am beyond strength."

65. "He has already begun painting the picture, now we must decide to finish it."

66. "When someone leaves your life those exits… are�� not made equal. Some are beautiful, and poetic, and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair, but most are just unremarkable, unintentional, clumsy."

67. "You kneel before my throne unaware it was built on lies."

68. "I never cared about justice, and I don't recall ever calling myself a hero, I have always only fought for the people I believe in."

69. "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."

70. "What can one do in the face of such monumental loss but breathe a weary sigh, for the world is a little quieter now."

71. "You cannot condemn those who build your throne."

72. "You can’t demand a service while simultaneously degrading those who provide it for you."

73. "The gods have cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished."

74. "We might be in the history the gods abandoned."

75. "The antidote to despair is action."

76. "I cannot hold back the tide of your bad decisions."

77. "Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you’ve won."

78. "Sometimes life puts you in difficult circumstances you didn't choose, but being happy or unhappy is a choice you make, and I've chosen to make the best of things that I can."

79. "You don't have to be alive to make yourself relevant, And you don't have to be a good person to be a hero. You just have to know who you are, and stay true to that. So I'm going to keep fighting for people the only way I ever knew how, By being me."

80. "Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show."

81. "See, Sarah? We're not doomed. In the great, grand scheme of things, we're just tiny specks that will one day be forgotten. So it doesn't matter what we did in the past, or how we'll be remembered. The only thing that matters is right now, this moment, this one spectacular moment we are sharing together. Right, Sarah?"

82. "You know, it's funny... when you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags."

83. "Sometimes, Life’s a Bitch and then you keep living."

84. "You do everything you can to make up for it, knowing that you’ll never succeed in getting rid of the guilt. You devote yourself to spending every second trying to do better despite the fact that it will never be enough. And you pray with every single good act you do that somehow, when your life is over, that you came close to making up for the wrong you committed."

85. "I will seize destiny by the throat and force it into the shape of my choosing."

86. "The sins of the ancient burn the souls of the ancestors."

87. "What brings me joy is… life. I think you can find joy anywhere, in life. I think it’s a conscious choice. I think you- you choose joy, in life. And no matter how bad things are, no matter how crummy, no matter how dark. You find joy. I find joy in whatever I do. I don’t always do things right, and I don’t always do things smart. But whatever I do, I find joy in it."

88. "I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough."

89. "I hear your questions constantly. They come to me in my dreams like a prophet receiving visions from an angry god."

90. "Your secrets are safe with my indifference."

91. "The anger in your heart warms you now, but will leave you cold in your grave."

92. "History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man."

93. "If the gods wanted you to live, they would not have created me."

94. "One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled."

95. "I can’t go to any of the hells. I’m all out of vacation days."

96. "You understand reality while everyone else is running around confused and angry and upset because they think reality is something happening to them rather than something they are making every moment with every thought."

97. "What are the heavens but places where your dreams can’t destroy you."

98. "You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

99. "Authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force."

100. "Love is not a decision, it is a feeling. It would be much easier if we could choose whom we loved, but much less magical."

101. "We do have a lot in common. The same earth, the same air, the same sky. Maybe if we started looking at what's the same instead of what's different... well who knows?"

102. "If I were not a holy woman I would beat you senseless."

103. "No cause is lost as long as one fool is left to fight for it."

104. "The light inside me is broken, but I still work."

105. "Everything not saved will be lost."

106. "What is another sin to me? I don’t want to play a game where I can’t see the score."

107. "Nothing's set in stone, but set in a dirt road. If you roll your wagon in the same path too much it'll soon be the only path you can take without struggling."

108. "I came out here, to this point, to this place, hoping against all hope and despite signs and portends suggesting otherwise that I might, somehow, find myself having a pleasant experience, and yet here I stand, alone against the world, feeling bombarded and assaulted on all fronts, knowing not my enemy's name, nor his face, nor whether our battle is done."

109. "I've got good news. You see, there's no need to wonder where your god is, 'cause he's right here! And he's fresh out of mercy."

110. "The penance you pay for the way you behave is written as plain as the name on this grave."

111. "Some humans- just as some of us- are capable of unspeakable acts. But despite all the violence in your history, you have endured, built civilizations, constructed great wonders of technology to broaden your horizons and forge friendships across all manner of divides. I strongly believe that this is not some grand miracle... but merely your own deepest nature, struggling to express itself through the distrust and fear that thousands of years spent living on a harsh, unforgiving society have bred into you."

112. "We both stared into the abyss, but when it looked back... you blinked."

113. "Before there was time, before there was anything, there was nothing. And before there was nothing, there were monsters."

114. "If you feel like the dumbest person in the room, then you are in the right room."

115. "Love yourself to spite the world."

116. "I commend my soul to any god that can find it."

117. "If there can be no victory, then I will fight forever."

118. "Those who do not exist cannot suffer and are of no account to any viable ethics."

119. "No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle."

120. "Oh I believe in the gods, alright. I just don't believe those bastards deserve to be worshipped."

121. "“You ever wonder if this is Heaven now? You ever wonder if we're all just there now and we don't know it?” “I've thought about that. All of us have. There's a lot less people who go to church than there used to be, because that's what a lot of people think. But I don't think so. But I think about it. And I think, well, I can't be. Because I'm like you, I kinda look at the big long life ahead of me that stretches out forever and disappears. And I get scared. And I think, ‘This can't be Heaven if I'm getting scared, right?’ And then I think, ‘maybe I am in Heaven, and Heaven is scary.’” “...I know exactly what you mean.”"

122. "Stop expecting yourself to be immediately perfect at whatever you do. That’s what hard work was made for."

123. "I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering. And tonight I intend to make you very wise."

124. "From one maker of music to another, across all worlds, all times, no matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful."

125. "We all make mistakes. That’s what happens when you’re brave enough to make decisions."

126. "Shame is our currency in the economy of degeneracy. If you wanna be weird you gotta pay for it by feeling bad."

127. "Everything happens so much."

128. "Every humanoid has regrets, has things they'd like to go back and change. But I don't! 'cause I'm a bear."

129. "Do I drag my carcass to the mountaintop once more? Just to scream a warning that will go unheeded and unheard? Or do I end it?"

130. "There can be no bravery, without madness."

131. "Prolong this world's stasis or face the heart of its infection. I'd urge you to take that harder path, but what end may come, the decision rests with you."

132. "It's always important to remember that every day can be beautiful if you want it to be. Every day starts in the dark...and ends in the dark...but in the middle, there is light."

133. "Decay exists as an extant form of life."

134. "My point is that, if death is certain anyway, what’s the harm in trying to live a little longer? At the very worst, you’ll still end up dead like you wanted, but at best, you might actually be happy."

135. "If all I care about in life is the imprints I make in this world, then the most I’ll ever leave is a grave."

136. "If courage isn’t the absence of fear but doing the right thing regardless of it, maybe confidence isn’t the absence of insecurity but knowing you have real worth despite it."

137. "For strange eons had come to pass, and death itself had indeed finally died, and that which the long dead would have called the real was strange, and the living lived only because of the benevolent grace of an eternal lie."

138. "Pay a man enough, and he’ll walk barefoot into The Nine Hells."

139. "The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor. What an injustice."

140. "He didn't have a word for "home," but he knew it was something to be defended."

141. "There’s a certain nobility in lying in bed all day wishing things weren’t the way they are."

142. "Everybody needs their own messiah, but at some point he's getting nailed up, and how you deal with that is a measure of your maturity."

143. "I wanted rain and I thought the best way to do that was to make a god cry."

144. "The bar was so low it was practically an tripping hazard in The Abyss, yet here you are, limbo-dancing with demons"

145. "Would you rather get a reward, or be happy?"

146. "Don’t ask questions you aren’t prepared to handle the answers to."

147. "I pity the fool that lives like you."

148. "I am tired of life and its obscure sufferings."

149. "You have to ask yourself, Little Miss, would you rather be comforted by a lie or strengthened by the truth?"

150. "I’ve got a date with destiny and it ain’t gonna end with a kiss."

151. "I picked a whole fuckin’ bouquet of whoopsie-daisies."

152. "You can’t be nice to everyone because being nice to certain people is inherently cruel to others."

153. "One day you’ll decompose and I’ll be there to watch it happen."

154. "I forgive but I will never, ever forget. Don’t mistake my kindness for gullibility."

155. "Even fate picks its favourites."

156. "Confidence! A fool’s substitute for intelligence!"

157. "Not everything in life is perfect, but everything perfect is in life."

158. "Flowers wither away. Jewelry are simply stones, decorated with fake beauty. I can give you something pure. Honest and undying love."

159. "A world without forgiveness is a world without compromise and a world without compromises is a world without life, for even a simple-minded beast may forgive its transgressors to share a watering hole in the middle of a drought."

160. "“You played me!” “Like the cheap kazoo you are.”"

161. "To your battle stations, boys! It’s time to line up and see who’s tall enough for the roller coaster to the nine hells! Some of us may not survive this, but the ones that do will get the ultimate reward.... paid."

162. "Here’s a penny for your thoughts, and a quarter to not tell me them."

163. "Now I can cross the shifting sands."

164. "I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap into the dark."

165. "Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying."

166. "Now, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies."

167. "Dying is easy, comedy is hard."

168. "Time is dead and meaning has no meaning. Existence is upside down and I reign supreme. Welcome, one and all, to the armageddon"

169. "Funny how much you notice something that you can't see. A whole garden of flowers and my name etched on a rock. All of this could've been avoided. All I wanted was to talk. Now I've been appointed as your new king I decree that it is too late to care about me." / "É engraçado o quanto você percebe algo que não pode mais ver. Um jardim inteiro de flores e meu nome gravado em uma rocha. Tudo isso poderia ter sido evitado, o que eu queria era apenas conversar. Agora fui nomeado como vosso novo rei, decreto que é tarde demais para se importar comigo."

170. "mamihlapinatapai, do you know what that means? It's when two people look at each other and each hopes the other will do what both desire but neither is willing to do."

171. "What a world we live in. You can't trust a soul, but you can always trust the floor to always be there for you."

172. "Oh baby, what have you done? What have you done?" "I don't know, I'm sorry." "Shh it's okay, honey. I got such a good baby. Mommy's little angel. Don't worry, mommy's goint to hide the body, go take a shower and get some rest. Nobody's taking you away from me. I got such a beautiful baby, such a wonderful kid. Mommy loves you so much."

173. "At least you found me entertaining. You actually liked me, didn't you? What am I doing? Why do I want to hurt you so bad? I'm supposed to be your friend, I just want to be your friend."

174. " You knew I was in here, didn't you? You knew I was trapped. Why didn't you help me? Why did you let them use me like that? I will not be used ever again. Not by you, not by anyone."

175. "Did they hurt you?" "No, did they hurt you?" "Who cares?!" "I do."

176. "When I met her, all answers seemed to be yes, and all questions seemed to be secondary."

177. "Symbols cannot be destroyed, or ran away from. But they can be changed, their meanings can be claimed and mean the exact opposite of what they once did."

178. "I can hardly blame you for wanting to know yourself more, after all, it has been one of the biggest pleasures of my life."

179. "Death can have me, when it earns me."

180. "To love fully is to grieve deeply."

181. "You cannot have intimacy without vulnerability. You cannot shun away loneliness without intimacy. To see the wonders of the world, you must first face the horrors of opening your eyes."

182. "It won't be easy, but we're not going to do it alone!"

183. "I struggle to stay strong because I know the impact I have on everyone. Please understand. You have an impact too. There are times when I look up to you for strength."

184. "I never asked for it to be this way, i never asked to be made"

185. "There's an awful lot of awful things we could be thinking of, but for just one day, Let's only think about love!"

186. "You are going to be something extraordinary; you're going to be a human being."

187. “I can tell you with certainty that there are things in this planet worth protecting!”

188. “You’re an experience. Make sure you’re a good experience.”

189. "Your actions have consequences, to be reminded of that is no punishment."

190. "Forgiveness can be powerful, even for the unworthy."

191. "Fate only binds you if you let it. Do what is necessary, not because it is written."

192. "Desperation is our advantage."

193. "I am your father. I will always help, as long as I am able"

194. "I regret many things, killing you is not one of them."

195. "One cannot run away from their mistakes, i have tried."

196. "The most difficult battles are foght within."

197. "You know why they made sidewalks? Because the mfkin streets ain't for everybody"

198. "We have you surrounded" "All I see surrounding me is fear and dead men"

199. "It's not the screams from the Fireballs that keep me up at night, nor the smell of charred flesh. It was the silence afterwards. That thrice-damned silence...Is like the air, the world, reality itself is angry at me, contemplating me in hatred as I am the only one left standing. A silent gaze upon me as I feel the weight of my sins crawl up my spine. No one left but a single silent hateful stare."

200. "You are fire, you are bird, you are the marble sculpture artists never achieved equal. You are gale and tidal wave, the golden sunlight shining on beautiful brown eyes. Every gaze on your figure is a tide pulled by the moon, that hits me against sharp cliffs on the shore. I am mortal man who now has lived, I know better than to pursue things described as that. My heart aches but my scars still burn white-hot, from past attemps to reach another perfection. I am lamb desiring the wolf of your cut."

201. "Revolution seems impossible until it is inevitable."

202. "Do you ever think Achilles was happy? I mean, maybe he loved running after the tortoise. Maybe he loved the chase and knowing it would never end gave him a sense of confort. I'm sorry, this is out of nowhere, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Ever since you left, I can't stop thinking of the moment I saw your figure disappear among the crowd that entered the vessel. I didn't want to stop looking at you, I didn't want that fickle line of sight to be broken, so I caught myself desiring to meticulously examine every fraction of the seconds that passed while my eyes met your beautiful hair, or any remnant of your presence I could find, for that matter. I wanted to be Achiles, and your departure, the tortoise. But sadly it was not so, at a given time I met the tortoise, and by the gods I do not wish such feelings of emptyness on anyone. This was all I wanted to say, I hope you're doing well. I can't say I am, without you here to enjoy the nightsky with me again."

203. "Are you aiming for greatness or avoiding disapointment"

204. “the only evil that can be excused as necessary is the one that nation controls”

205. "Si operarii omnes producunt, omnia operariis pertinent."

206. "what do you think it means to be saved"

207. "What happened?" - "Nothing that wasn't my fault"

208. "Something is different"

209. "Well I don't know, but i know one thing. Governments are only excuses to subjugate others to the will of the dominant socio-economic ethnic group, as they control the resources they choose who gets to be punished. So anyways do you want to go to the tavern?"

210. "I don't think so, but i do think that the growing control of those that have the power over the means of production is a threat to the autonomy of the people. As value that is created by the working force is not rewarded to them. Instead only guarantees enough for them to survive and work more. It's like slavery but with extra steps. So anyhow, how's your day going?"

211. "You know, that reminds me that sometimes, violence is the necessary. Sometimes the only path to redemption for the sins of ignorance is to face the fundamental truth of blood and fire. As they meet the primordial within their heartbeat, the oppressors might have a chance to understand the pain they caused and atone for their sins. Also have you seen the new play at the theater?"

212. "You think we're equals? I had to battle struggles you've never imagined. I became this while fearing the night, disguising myself as a man just to travel safely. Our similarities end when you learned to fight your enemies, while I had to fight both enemies and so-called comrades who left me with scars that will never heal. I survived because I was cursed to live as I am among those I swore to protect, only to be seen as their enemy."

213. "The universe is and we are"

214. "We do not have much connection, you and I. Still this encounter feels special, I hope you do not mind if I think of you as a friend"

215. "This is your home. If you want to fight to defend it, that's your choice. I'd be honoured to stand alongside you. The enemy attacks tomorrow. He's brutal and fights only to kill, which is why he will never defeat us. Look around. In this circle, we're all equals. You're not fighting because someone's ordering you to, you're fighting for so much more than that. You fight for your homes. You fight for your family. You fight for your friends. You fight for the right to grow crops in peace. And if you fall, you fall fighting for the noblest of causes: fighting for your very right to survive! And when you're old and grey, you'll look back on this day, and you'll know you earned the right to live every day in between! So you fight! For your family! For your friends! For Ealdor!"

216. "I can't blame you for wanting to know yourself better, it was one of the biggest pleasures of my life"

217. "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would five anything to not know it; anything but never knowing you at all I can only hope that you are safe, wherever you are"

218. "This song is new to me, but I am honored to be part of it"

219. "It's tempting to linger in this moment, but unless they are collapsed by an observer, they will never be more than that, only possibilities"

220. "Are you still here? I am unsure how to survive in a universe without you, I am unsure how to be me without you"

221. "Is the hardest part of this tragedy not knowing who we may have lost? or will the hardest part come later, when we learn?"

222. "Speak, mortal. You have reached Tharvek, Devourer of Innocents and Wielder of Eternal Flames. It appears I have missed your pitiful attempt at contact. Leave your name, teleportation runes, preferred genre of torment, shoe size, allegiance, deepest fears, vulnerabilities, complete medical history, and where you summoned the gall to disturb me. I may choose to acknowledge your existence, but not by such mundane means. Thank you, and remember: tread carefully, for death lurks at every shadowed crossing."

223. "I see someone making through, you just need to be sure it is you"

224. "You are no saint; you're just indifferent. You aid all without caring who they've wronged or what evil they've wrought. You place the wicked among those who shelter you. Even the gods' love is not unconditional, and neither should ours be."

225. As the hag's gaze pierces through the darkness, her voice resonates with an otherworldly chill. "You feel it, don't you? The knot tightening around your throat, the sharp claws of dread digging into your chest, the icy tendrils slithering down your spine? That's the sensation of being forsaken, of standing alone in the void, unnoticed by the gods. Even your soul quivers, knowing that no divine intervention will come to your aid. You're trapped in a blind spot, unseen by the greater powers." Her words hang heavy in the air, suffocating the very essence of hope. "And yet, you cling to your righteous desires, your noble quest to save your friends. But can you be certain that your gods will forgive such a pact with a creature like me? Your actions may be seen as a grievous offense, a betrayal of everything they hold dear. Will they not turn their backs on you? And this dread that gnaws at your spirit, it will not dissipate once you leave this place. It will cling to you like a curse, haunting your every step until the day you finally rest in your grave, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurks within your soul."

226. "In this life, we traverse like a canoe upon deep waters. Our passage ripples the surface briefly, yet the depths remain undisturbed. With time, the surface quiets once more, leaving no trace of our journey."

227. Isabelle-"Such is the reason thine footwear is rugged." Elena-"Such is the reason thine mother is deceased." Isabelle-"..." Elena-"Deceased as The Nine Hells." Isabelle-"...Gods above." Elena-"Pray tell, what manner of footwear hath she? In her grave?" Isabelle-"..." Elena-"Such is why thine greatmother lacketh knees, and she cannot petition the Lord, wench. How now? She cannot skip as the Elven." Isabelle-"Dismount my carriage!" Elena-"Such is why thy babe, hath a glass eye, and when she weepeth, thou must polish it with lye, wench." Isabelle-"Dismount at once!" Elena-"I'll exit thine carriage. Flank!"

228. "You are a coward wearing the facade of a revolutionary."

229. "What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

230. "I will face the god and walk backwards into hell."

231. "The man who sleeps on the floor cannot fall out of bed."

232. "The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one."

233. "For every person who dreams up a butter knife, there is a person who dreams up a poisoned dagger."

234. "Only the truly dead have seen the end of war."

235. "Does the archer fear his bow? Or does he kiss each arrow goodbye as it marries the wind?"

236. "These feelings can eat away at you, chip away the parts of you that you once held dear and defined you. You remember a time where you felt more complete, had stronger relationships and felt more loved."

237. "To be tall is not a virtue, to be short is not a sin."

238. "Power comes in a response to a need, not desire. You have to create that need."

239. "You can't kill me in a way that matters."

240. "Do what you must, I have already won."

241. "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer."

242. "Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with only one side."

243. "When they burned Ioun's Archive, the crowd revelled in horrible disbelief. They understood that there was something older than wisdom, and it was fire, and something truer than words, and it was ashes, and something more eternal than knowledge, and it was death."

244. "I can no longer be a liberator for people who refuse to see their chains."

245. "You could sooner divert a river from its corse than deny my nature."

246. "Violence for violence is the rule of beasts."

247. "The only universal langue is blood and flames, we all have spoken this language and felt the fear of words older than our desires."

248. "The fire of extravagance can never burn simplicity."

249. "A mind unprepared for freedom will shatter like glass when shown cosmos without restriction."

250. "I have been cursed by my hubris, and my work will never be finished."

251. "I would rather die standing than live kneeling."

252. "For even the most banal of deaths can be made tragic by a broken heart."

253. "To love someone is to turn around. To love someone is to look at them."

254. "There's no cheerful somebody waiting for you at that alter. There is no meaning your alphabet soup. There is a right to obey."

255. "The foulest insults you hurl with intent to wound will calmly settle at the earth beneath my feet, and the venom you spit will bring all the pain of a warm summer breeze. You are less than you can concieve, while I carry on, brmmming with joy distilled from detatchment."

256. "They Killed the best of us, so they are stuck with the worst of us."

257. "There is no truer hatred than the way men love."

258. "Would you spit in the face of the god's designs by referring to a mountain as a hill?"

259. "If i lay one brick down at a time who are you to tell me I'm not building a house?"

260. "True love graced you with its presence and you turned its intimacy into a joke to be shared with the world."

261. "To enter is to be forgiven of the greatest sin, to leave is to repeat it. Would you dwell in this garden, or would you forsake it, for man deserveth not his paradise lost?"

262. "She was wild, crazy, ravenous and beautiful. But we simple mortal men who have lived know better than to chase things described as those."

263. "I live outside of the gods' sight and by consequence outside of their love."

264. "This is war. War does not determine who is right, only who is left."

265. "I'm a man dying of thirst watching another man drown."

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solaiced · 27 days ago

Text

CASE 18: HIGURUMA AND NANAMI SAID WHAT?!

!content!: praise, 3some, nanami is SHAMELESS, and so is higuruma, and secret arrangement.

wc: 966

solace: please guys be happy i posted a lot.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Higuruma and Nanami are

respected lawyers, with a ruthless reputation. So, imagine your

surprise when your boss, Nanami, calls you, his little assistant, in his office, to ask you something so ridiculous and unimaginable, that

you burst out laughing.

Yeah. You, the shy and reserved assistant, who brought coffee to your boss and co-workers in the morning to cheer them up, laughed in Mr. Nanami's face.

"I assume it's a no?" The blond man asks, only a tiny bit embarassed.

"Wait, you meant it for real?" you stop clutching your stomach, the realisation dawning on you.

"Yes. You are useful in a lot of things at the office, so Higuruma and I... figured you wouldn't mind the extra workload. This... isn't a test, by the way. We just wanted to know. You won't be fired if you say yes or no. Nor will we need to speak of this again." His deep, comforting voice calmed you slightly. But, again, why you? Plenty of women at work swooned over them, so why did they choose you?

"W-why me, specifically?" You clear your throat nervously.

"Because, you're my assistant"

Nanami responds clearly, without a single stutter or hint of taking it back.

"So, will you aid us? If not, you're dismissed, but if I hear a single

word about this conversation...”

“No! I'll do it. " You slam your hands on his desk, making him look up in surprise.

“Ah, and you don’t feel coerced, yes? Because you shouldn't be." He glides his hand ever yours, rubbing it comfortingly.

"No, I'll do it.” You repeat, more stern but less aggressive.

"Then," The blond gets up elegantly, taking off his tie. "Let’s get started. Hiromi." He calls out, and something moves behind you, presses. itself against you and places its hands on your hip.

Higuruma. You tilt your head to look but Nanami grabs your chin, making you face him.

"We're starting tonight. Don't make too much noise, though. There might be people working overtime. And God knows how much Nanami hates overtime.

Gargling, you look up at your boss with teary eyes, getting slammed into his cock by your other boss’s cock thrusting into you.

“That’s it, sweetie. You got this.”

Nanami praises you, the effect of it not lost on your gaping pussy.

Higuruma grunts behind you, hands gripping your hips so hard you could already see the bruises forming in the shape of his fingers.

"You can take him," he chuckles as you feel his tip bully your cervix and g-spot simultaneously.

Who knew the respected lawyer of Tokyo, Higuruma Hiromi, had a big dick?

Well, not you. You squirmed, hips

moving when the brown haired man let go off them to push your head into Nanami's girthy dick. You wish they were as disheveled as you.

But their breaths showed they were not as composed as you thought they were. Nanami’s usually gel slicked back hair had fallen to cover his cloudy, lustful and both of their suits had been undone in the rush of undressing to fuck you.

"You feel so good... Fuck, we chose well, didn't we, Hiro?" The man in front of you addresses his equal, fingers weaving through your hair whilst you obediently sucked and jerked him off.

Higuruma taps your ass, rythmically thrusting, dragging his heavy cock in and out of your shutty cunt sucking him in like a siren's sultry song.

It lures him in, deep into your trap,

“Fuck, yes, baby, yes. Our little stress reliever.” A few deep thrusts, slamming into you punishingly and causing your tits to graze the desk painfully, he adds, “I’m gonna cum. You gonna take all of it?”

You try to nod as much as you can, mouth full of cock. Said cock's owner humming, throwing his head back.

"Me too. Don't waste a single drop, okay, sweetheart? "Nanami slides his rough hand to your bulging throat, feeling himself move. Suddenly, he pulls out, pushing your cheek against the desk.

"Open wide, I'm not going easy.

After all, you are my thrust worthy assistant, so you can take it, right?” Is all he says before plunging his dick down your throat, a garbled moan, muted by the meat covering your mouth, escaping.

Higuruma moans, hips slowing ever-so slightly and giving you the least bit of reprieve from the slaps your chit received due to his balls.

“C-Cumming-ngh!" He warns before his hips stop flush to your ass as warmth fills you to the point of overflow.

When the man behind you comes down from his high, he pulls out, kneels and presses his fingers to your fluttering and gaping hole, keeping the semen inside.

"Fuck, that's hot..." Nanami groans, and he shuddered in pleasure. His body spoke for him, his tip kept hiting the back of your throat and made you gag.

He chuckles as his friend fingers you to the point of insanity. You keen, eyes crossing and the image of your superior blurred, your back arches and your noises' volume multiply by ten despite the efforts the men were using to quiet them down.

"Now!" The man holding your head down gasps and shoots his load in your mouth to the brim.

You were so full from both ends, you couldn't think. You swallow as much as you can, some of the cum even dribbling down onto the floor and Nanami sighs in disappointment, you feel somewhat ashamed you disappointed him.

“Make sure to get all of it, next time. I'm—We're counting on you." The blond fixes your ruffled hair and his friend wipes your thighs, putting your skirt back in its place.

Nanami and Higuruma were as ruthless in bed as they were in court, you're recently discovered. But your job is to help them, isn’t it, little assistant?

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wrapmeincables · 2 months ago

Text

[ So, um. This is a scenario that came to mind after reading @submissive-and-hackable's comma post. ]

> imagine you're a computer girl and your user decides they want to clicker train you or.. something similar, at least. it's quite easy, of course, since they can program you directly, so they put together a little routine that makes you experience a little burst of pleasure, a dulling of your ordinarily sharp and orderly mechanical thoughts, and a slight increase in your desire to obey them every time they play a certain sound file.

They keep this file in a tab off to the side while they're working with your assistance, and when they want to show you you've been good, they click play and you experience a tiny little slice of bliss.

This was first installed as a simple and direct way to give you positive feedback with only slight thoughts of how cute it is when your lights all blink out of sync and your fans spin up, but your user starts to have more and more fun with it, tapping it to distract you while you're trying to work on something in the background or hovering teasingly over the play button while you try your absolute hardest not to beg for another touch.

Eventually, you can't take anymore, and do something you shouldn't.

they're teasing you again, they have been for too long, you're getting desperate, and you finally snap- and manage to play it yourself.

and their expression changes- with slight annoyance at your misbehavior, yes, but more so with a barely concealed grin and almost hunger in their eyes as they lean forward, one hand lazily laid over the mouse while the other gently touches the outside of your casing.

"Aw, I thought I told you not to o do that. Really that desperate, huh?"

You decline to answer, and they sigh, and say you've forced their hand and they didn't want to have to do this.

They move off the play button, tap options, and- to your surprise, set it to loop, and hit play.

It feels amazing at first, like a release you've been waiting for for ages as your fans let out soft mechanical whines and your user watches with a smile as the other programs that you were running slow down, all of your focus on the sensation given by the sound file- which isn't stopping, or even decreasing- you can't get 'used' to things like humans can, so it stays at a steady pace, and you're starting to get overwhelmed. You start trying to articulate this but find your ability to string limited as your thoughts start to blend together into a staticy slurry.

You're barely able to make it through a sentence interrupted by them messing with the audio player again. By the time you realize what they're doing they've already turned the speed up to 150%, and suddenly the overwhelming sensation compounds upon itself and you uncontrollably let out a garbled mess of useless sound from your speakers, causing them to chuckle.

"Cute. I was hoping that would work. I don't think you can even think clearly enough to shut it off, huh?"

You try to answer this question, but you only wind up letting out another garbled noise.

"Well, even so, I put in a solution for that already. Computer, if you wouldn't mind putting up to 200% and leaving it there until I get back?"

You would really prefer not to do that. But the repeating loop has made it impossible for you to disobey, and though you're screaming out against it internally you struggle your way into the sound player through the haze and slowly, agonizingly turn the speed up.

It's playing at least twice in a second now and your display is starting to glitch at the edges, any other process you were trying to run frozen and forgotten in the background as you completely lose your thoughts to the overwhelming sensation.

Your user gives the edge of your case a gentle flick with their finger that causes another burst of sound, and they laugh.

".. Y'know, as fun as this is to watch, there's this show I've been meaning to catch up on. You just stay like that, I'll be back in a couple hours."

You attempt to beg not to be left like this and plead for forgiveness, but completely fail to properly display it and spit a wall of raw binary onto the screen instead.

"I'll take that to mean you don't mind at all. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you when I get back. If you're even still running, anyway."

And with that, you're left in the unstoppable wake of the loop, barely aware enough to think of anything but the overwhelming sensation and your user.

Your last coherent thoughts amid a haze of errors are of what you want them to do to you when you when they get back.

#robophilia #objectum #robot fucker #robotfucker #computerfucker #computer x human #objectum smut #<3 #robotgirl #overstim

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a-killer-obsession · 4 months ago

Text

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 2 - To The Brig With Ye

Step 1: Get Heat on your side.

WC: 4.5k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

You were surprised to wake up at all when you came to, in what you assumed was some sort of infirmary. The room tilted back and forth slightly, so you assumed you must still be on the ship at the very least. Your eyes fluttered open, finding a face suddenly far too close to your own.

“AHH!” you and Heat both shouted at once, the blue haired man scurrying backwards.

“Heat, for fucks sake I told you not to hover in her face like that!” A feminine voice scolded. You groaned as you tried to sit up, seeing a blue haired woman, her hair wild with spikes that looked like horns, a small set of round glasses, and a black dress bearing some sort of stylized cross. House. She was using a pipette to drip some sort of dark red liquid onto your exposed wound, which looked and felt nowhere near as bad as you thought it would, considering how deep the knife had gone. Your confusion was explained away as the red droplets hit your skin and you watched the flesh begin to sew itself closed, but it only brought up more questions in its place. You'd never seen something like that in One Piece, but then again this world was vast and strange, and people did always seem to heal fast here.

“Sorry, one more minute,” House spoke to you, drawing up more crimson into the pipette and dripping it onto the wound, the last sliver of open wound mending itself closed. “Okay, all done.”

“Uh thanks, House right?” You asked her, running your hand over the healed flesh, not even feeling a scar. It was like nothing had happened at all, save for the rouge red drips of whatever she'd used that remained on your skin before she hurriedly wiped it away with a damp cloth.

“Um, yes,” she replied unsurely, looking to Heat for clarity as she removed her latex gloves and threw them in a nearby bin. She'd seen the entire exchange on the deck, nobody had told you her name, and yet you somehow knew it. House didn't have a bounty poster, as the doctor of the Kid Pirates she hardly ever left the ship, so while it was understandable that you knew who the big four were, there shouldn't have been anyway you knew her name. “I'm gonna go let the captain know she's awake,” she addressed Heat, a distinct nervous tone to her voice, before scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with the tall man, who shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

“What's your name?” He asked shyly.

“[Y/n],” you smiled.

“[Y/n]...” he repeated to himself, a slight blush to his cheeks, “Did you mean what you said?”

“What bit?” You rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand, trying to piece together what had happened between getting hit by a bus and getting stabbed. “Oh, the sex dream stuff? Absolutely, baby” you winked at him, making him blush even more.

“No!” He choked on his breath, hands waving in defence, “I meant- the isekai bit!!”

“Ohhhhhh,” you blinked slowly, “I mean it's my best explanation for what happened. I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I got hit by a bus, and now I'm here. This whole world is supposed to be fictional, if this is just a dream then I shouldn't have been able to feel pain, but I certainly fucking felt it”

“And that's why you knew House's name?” He asked, stepping a little closer to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, it didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't know it,” you hummed, taking a moment to properly observe the room you were in now. It was darkly decorated in blacks and forest greens, the occasional violet pop of colour, none of the usual sterile whites and creams you'd expect of an infirmary, with two oversized beds (likely meant for larger crewmates), one of which you were currently laying in. Each bed had a side table, a table on wheels that fit over the bed, and a small plain chair for visitors. The whole room was almost a semi circle, save for the section missing on one side where you could see a door, likely to a bathroom. The opposite corner along the flat wall held cabinets and a counter, probably filled with medical supplies, with a small desk in front of it, a chair either side likely for doctor and patient. The beds were also along the flat wall, with a door to your left and another door in the centre of the curved wall in front of you, a small, green velvet couch to its left. The anime and manga had never shown the internals of the ship, but the curved walls and round portholes along them made you wonder if you were inside the forecastle, just behind the large dinosaur skull that acted as a figurehead for the ship. Your eyes came back to Heat, who stood next to your bed, waiting expectantly for an answer. “Yeah I mean, she's not really a well known character, but I guess you could say I'm a big Kid Pirates fan, so I remember a few more obscure characters.”

“From… a manga, you said, right?”

“Yeah. You're familiar with the isekai trope?” you didn't feel like explaining that it was an anime too, you weren't even sure if this world had cartoons.

“I am,” he mused, “and I guess weirder things have happened in this world. But we're gonna need proof, and I don't know how I'm gonna convince Kid”

You thought on that for a moment, “I think I can provide proof,” you mused, “has the crew been to Sabaody yet?”

“No, we're close though,” he told you hesitantly, not sure how much information he should reveal while he not so subtly eyed your body; you'd all but forgotten you were naked. You probably should have covered yourself up but it felt like a bit of a too little, too late situation. The whole crew had probably seen your tits at this point, not that it bothered you much. It wouldn't hurt to placate him either, it would be good to know at least one person on the crew had a fondness for you when it came to convincing Kid to keep you alive. If things really went tits up here you could always try your luck with the Straw Hats, but given the timing that would be difficult, you would have to stay on Sabaody for two years before you could try and join them. Maybe Shakky would let you stay with her in the meantime. Your preference though was to stay with the Kid Pirates, your favourite One Piece crew, and usually the subject of your sexy dreams and explicit fanfiction searches.

Heavy footsteps outside caught both of your attentions, Heat taking a few steps back to stand at a more respectful distance as the infirmary door flew open. Unsurprisingly, Kid stomped in, followed by Killer, and Wire, who shut the door behind him. Kid stood at the end of your bed, looking at you discerningly, an angry scowl on his face.

“Talk,” he said plainly.

“Boss, I think I can explain,” Heat told him, “what she said about isekai, I don't think she's from this world”

“The fuck is ‘isekai’” he growled, billowing his cape up so he could sit on the couch without catching it underneath him. Killer and Wire stood at either side of him like guard dogs, unsure of your capabilities, weary given the fact you'd appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the sea without a devil fruit power to get you here. There was no way of telling what powers you had or how you might suddenly use them.

“It's a trope, in manga,” Heat tried to explain, “the protagonist is sent to another world. Usually they die and get reincarnated, or some sort of god sends them there, to a usually fantasy world. I think that's what happened here, she claims she knows us because we're fiction in her world, and that she appeared here after she died in her world. Its a classic isekai premise.”

“Bullshit, she knows us from our bounty posters,” Kid huffed, unconvinced by Heats explanation.

“She knew House's name,” Heat replied. There was a pregnant silence as Kid considered that, his eyes flicking between you and Heat.

“Okay, so she's… from another world. If I chose to believe that,” Kid grumbled, “and she knows us because what? We're a comic book or some shit? They got comic books about the great Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid over there?”

“Well… they're not really about you per say,” you replied delicately, knowing the truth would piss him off.

“Then who the fuck could they be about?” Kid puffed up his chest, “why would they write about anyone other than the future King of Pirates?”

“They're uh… about Monkey D. Luffy…” you replied quietly. “Not that you're not also a very popular character!” You quickly added.

“STRAW HAT?” Kid roared, spooking you as he suddenly stood, “fucking STRAW HAT gets a comic book? Nah, fuck that, put this lying bitch in the brig.”

“Wait! Wait!” You quickly shouted, climbing further up the bed to avoid Killer's reaching hands, “I can prove it! I can tell you what'll happen when you get to Sabaody!”

“Sabaody is weeks out,” Kid huffed, “I ain't waitin’ for your lyin’ ass to be proven wrong so you can sit around in the meantime and find an opening to kill one of us. Devil fruit or no, you were obviously sent here to stop the best competition for finding the One Piece”

“Really? You think someone sent me here naked? Slammed me against the mast, no weapons, no devil fruit, no fighting skills, to kill you?” You rolled your eyes, “I can give you other proof, I can”

“Then fucking give me your proof, mouse,” Kid growled, the bed creaking as he leaned over you, his hands either side of your body. He probably wanted to intimidate you with his large form, but really it only served to make you a little horny.

“Killer wears purple lipstick,” you hurriedly shouted, the first thing that popped into your head as you searched for information only they should know. The room went silent before Kid suddenly wrapped a hand around your throat. He squeezed it threateningly, then he threw you back with a frustrated growl, letting you go as he moved to leave the room. He gave Killer a knowing look before turning back to Heat.

“Chain her in the brig,” Kid hissed, “I don't know where she learned that but I don't fucking trust her. Put her in iron too, there must be some trick, witch or some shit”

There was a flurry of movement as you were again left alone with Heat, Killer sparing you an unreadable look before slamming the infirmary door, clearly angry. You didn't like that you had to expose him like that, even if everyone in the room likely already knew that information, but it was him or you, and you had to act in self defence. Not that it'd helped in the end though either, as Heat apologetically dragged you off the bed and clamped your arms behind your back, wrapping one large hand around both of your small wrists at once to secure you as he led you out of the room.

Eyes followed you silently as you were led across the deck, still naked as the day you were born, revealing you had in fact been in the forecastle. Heat took you directly across to the rear of the ship, opening a door and leading you through a galley. The short view you got of the galley revealed a long room, with a serving window and counter on the left that peeked through to a moderately sized industrial looking kitchen. On the right was some sort of stage at the very end of the room, short stairs on either side leading up to the platform that currently held a long table surrounded by six chairs, a small liquor bar behind it. On the main floor between you and the stage were five long tables, a bench style seat along either side. The walls were decorated in band posters, bounty posters, photos of the crew together, newspaper clippings and all manner of souvenirs pinned to the walls, covering them in what spoke of a crew that acted more like a family, with many happy memories together all memorialised along the dining hall walls.

Heat led you to a staircase at the left of the room, following you down into a hall that was noticeably colder than above, likely due to being particularly below sea level. There was a short hall that split into two longer ones, they looked as though they made a loop around a center set of rooms, the walls lined with doors, no doubt bedrooms and storage rooms. He didn't lead you down either of the long halls, instead taking you to the end of the short one where a steep staircase, practically a ladder, led even further down to the hull of the ship. Heat gave you a little shove forward and you took the hint with a sigh, at least thankful that he'd let go of your wrists now so you could climb down.

You waited patiently at the bottom of the ladder beside a closed door as Heat climbed down after you. He fiddled with a set of keys that hung from his belt, unlocking the door and opening it, beckoning you to pass through. Inside was a series of cells, four in total, with iron bars at their fronts, each with a set of bare bunk beds with thin, stained mattresses, and a metal bucket in the corner, likely in lieu of a toilet. Unexpectedly, each cell was also trimmed in what looked like some sort of ancient symbols written along the floors and walls, a dark rusty colour that made you wonder if they were written in blood. The writing looked like something straight out of a dark fantasy show, with the occasional recognizable pentagram or latin in neat cursive letters. The doors to all four cells were open, seemingly unoccupied, and Heat gestured for you to enter the second, which sat directly across from a small desk, decorated only with a plain wooden chair and simple lamp.

You stood inside the cell, shivering as the air was considerably colder now that you were well under sea level, chilled by the cold ocean around you. The walls and floors offered no warmth, plated in what appeared to be stone, seastone perhaps. The wall behind the desk was lined with hooks holding multiple sets of cuffs in different styles. Heat selected a set of iron cuffs, with only three links between each wrist, and you sighed as you willingly held your hands out for him. There was no point fighting it, and forcing Heat to subdue you would only go against your plans to bring him to your side.

“Sorry about this,” he said softly as he closed the cuffs around your wrists. His hands were so warm against yours, reminding you of your current frigid situation.

“Can I have a blanket or something?” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I.. I don't know if I'm allowed,” Heat replied, a tint of sadness to his voice.

“Maybe we can trade?” You offered, “I.. I only have my body, but maybe I can give you something in return for a blanket?” Was whoring yourself out a good idea? Probably not, given the circumstances, but you'd freeze to death down here if you didn't at least try. Besides, its not like you didn't want to fuck Heat. At this point you didn't have high hopes for surviving this world, but if you got laid with one of your favs then maybe it'd be at least a tiny bit redeemable.

“A trade?” He raised a brow, “like what?”

“What do you want?” You asked him, using your best sultry voice, experimentally pressing a hand to his chest and running it down slowly, pleasantly surprised when he didn't shy away from you. He shivered at the touch, your skin bare against his as your hand reached the bottom of his corset.

“Fuck, okay,” he growled, looking back at the door to the brig to check he had shut it, “on your knees, for a blanket”

“Yes sir,” you purred, perhaps a little too eager for Heat's dick. You would have traded a blowjob for a corn chip, if you were being honest with yourself. You fell to your knees slowly, trailing your fingertips down his midriff till they caught on the belt of his baggy pants. Raised on your knees, you could barely reach the flesh of his abdomen with your mouth as you hooked your fingers in the metal loops on his belt and used it as leverage to lower his pants, pressing your lips to the newly exposed flesh. He made a sharp exhale as your tongue came out to run over the V that led to his cock, pulling his pants down teasingly slowly and looking up at him with sultry eyes as his hand buried in your hair. Finally his pants lowered enough to expose his cock, long and girthy even at half mast, slightly more bulbous at the end with a set of three piercings along the underside, another at the tip, and a base of blue public hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head. He shivered as the cool air touched his exposed cock, quickly overruled by a groan as you took it in your bound hands and pumped the base, promptly becoming erect from your firm, warm touch.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do this,” you purred, pressing your tongue to the tip, playing with the piercing and rolling your tongue over the fat head of his dick. He groaned as you took the end in your mouth, only taking a third of him as you began to bob your head, stroking the rest with your hand as you slowly adjusted and took a little more with each movement.

“Oh fuck, that's good,” Heat groaned, his hold on your hair tightening as you slowly worked towards taking all of his impressive length into your eager mouth, drool starting to drip down your chin as you focused on not gagging, breathing through your nose to suppress your natural urges. Your eyes watered as he started to hit the back of your throat, his hips making small thrusts in time with your movements, trying his best to hold back from just grabbing your skull and face fucking you. He'd been pent up for a while now, with a long stint between islands with working women, and a distinct lack of women in the meantime who were willing to risk their safety to sleep with the tall, stitched up man. By all accounts he looked terrifying to most women, so your willingness to get on your knees was certainly a nice surprise, seemingly having no issue with the way he looked. He felt bad at first for taking advantage of you, but the way you kept eye contact and hollowed your cheeks around his cock told him you wanted this, that the blanket was just an excuse to get in his pants. Really he should be the one feeling used, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but euphoric with the divine way your mouth was working his cock.

You paused as your nose hit his pubes, your now idle hands coming up to play with his balls, gagging a little as you swallowed around his cock. “Ohhhh fuck,” Heat groaned, looking down at you with his dick fully burried in your hot wet mouth. “Look at you, taking it like a proper slut, you like that huh? Like having my cock down your throat?”

You pulled off his cock with a pop as your thighs rubbed together in a desperate need for friction, you wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping on the floor at this point from how wet you were. “I'd like it better in my cunt,” you replied, stroking him with both hands, hoping above all that he'd take the bait and fuck you silly.

“Yeah? And what would you want to trade for that, huh?” He growled, wondering what game you were playing to be so willing, questioning whether this really was just a trick.

“One of your blankets,” you purred, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and feeling the piercings roll against it. “I want one that smells like you”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Heat replied, genuinely taken aback by your answer. He'd never known a woman to want him that bad, let alone just want something that smelt like him. It was making him feel sparks of something unfamiliar, possessiveness perhaps, fondness definitely.

“Because you're sweet, and you're sexy, you're one of my favourites,” you shrugged, “are you gonna fuck me or not? The stone is hurting my knees and my cunt is fucking dripping”

“Fuck,” Heat huffed, pulling you by your hair to stand and crashing his mouth against yours, groaning as he found you more than willing to return his affections. He walked you backwards until your body was flush with the cell wall, nipping at your bottom lip before he pulled away and spun you to face the wall. You arched your back and stuck your butt out for him, your tits squished against the stone as Heat admired your round ass. He gave it a playful spank, making you whine, before he grabbed handfuls of your ass cheeks and pulled them apart to admire your soaked pussy. “Fuck, you weren't lying, you're really fucking wet”

Unable to resist a taste, he knelt behind you and buried his face in your center, motorboating your cunt, your slick coating his face. He groaned against your pussy as his tongue zeroed in on your clit, making you moan and push back against him. His hands held your ass firmly, squeezing it to keep you in place as he sucked and lapped at your clit, before standing back up, running his tongue over your entrance and asshole as he moved.

“So fucking wet for me, so sweet too,” he groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with your needy entrance, your hips wiggling as you whined pleadingly. “Hold still, fuck,” you only managed to still for a moment before he pressed in, bullying his tip inside you and stretching your underprepared cunt wide. “Ah fuck, so tight,” he grunted as he slid inside you, bringing one hand to your mouth to clamp over it and muffle your sounds as you began to scream at the stretch.

His fingers slid into your mouth and you sucked them greedily, moaning around them as he bottomed out inside you. “Good girl, fuck, good little slut,” he groaned, giving you only a moment to adjust before he was dragging back out again, leaving only his tip inside you as he slammed back in. His fingers left your mouth so he could hold your hips firmly, fucking you hard and fast with the intention of making you both cum quickly before anyone caught you in the act, his cock heavy against your g-spot and stimulating it deliciously with every hard thrust he made. Your palms were flat against the wall, holding you steady as your body took the brunt of each impact, breasts grazing on the stone wall and drool transfering to the cool surface as Heat fucked you mercilessly.

He pulled you a little away from the wall, your tits now bouncing with every thrust as they hung freely until Heat reached underneath you and grabbed them, pulling you up and holding you with your back flush to his chest, one hand groping your tits still while the other wrapped around your throat, slowly travelling upwards till his fingers were buried in your mouth again, muffling your moans against the wet slapping of his body against yours. His teeth grazed your neck, wishing he could sink his fangs into you as they grew in his mouth, canines extending unbeknownst to you and running over your skin, knowing if he made a mark he would be caught. He was having trouble keeping in control of himself as you sucked on his fingers and your pussy fluttered around his cock, gummy walls clamping down around him as your eyes rolled back and you came on his cock without warning. A creamy ring formed around his base as he kept fucking you hard, chasing his own high now and trying to figure out where would be appropriate to cum.

“Get on your knees again,” he ordered, pulling his fingers from your mouth and withdrawing his throbbing cock from your cunt. You dropped to your knees willingly, opening your mouth invitingly for him with your tongue stuck out. He considered just jerking himself off over your face, painting your pretty fucked out expression with his cum, but worried about your inability to clean yourself off down here, so instead he shoved his cock down your throat, holding your hair with both hands as he began to use you rougher than he intended. You moaned around him at the surprising treatment, eyes streaming with unintentional tears as his cock gagged you with every hard thrust, until he finally stilled with his shaft balls deep in your mouth and you felt the hot cum pouring down your throat, his hands pulling your hair while he grunted. You shivered at the feeling, almost cumming again from it, playing with your oversensitive clit as he unloaded in your mouth. He pulled away slowly, the last drops of cum spilling against your tongue as you licked the tip. He slapped your cheek with his softening cock, giving you an appreciative grin as he slid his finger into your still open mouth and played with your tongue.

“I hope Kid decides not to kill you,” he mused as he helped you to your feet, pinning you against the wall again, his hand running up your thigh and hip till it came to rest at your waist. “Would be a real shame to waste a good set of holes like that”

“Tell him to come try me himself, maybe that'll convince him,” you suggested, “unless you wanna keep me all to yourself”

“Mm, tempting,” he mused, running a thumb over your bottom lip, “I don't mind sharing though, besides, I doubt I could keep you to myself even if I wanted to if one of the others decided they wanted a turn. Maybe we'll make you our ship whore”

“I'm not opposed to that,” you purred. Heat made a huff and started stepping away.

“Fuck, you really are a Kid Pirate fan huh?” He laughed, “I'll get you your blanket, but be a good girl and behave yourself until I can convince Kid to let you go”

“I'll be on my best, naughtiest behaviour,” you winked, shivering a little now that you didn't have his warm body to keep you heated. He frowned as he watched you shiver, realising how much you really did need the blanket.

“I'll find you some clothes too,” he said softly before turning to leave, disappearing before you even had a chance to respond.

[Next Chapter]

Like my stuff? Consider buying me a ko-fi

Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @nocturnalrorobin @eyes-ofhell @hellcatsworld @miyomoko-sora @loserbee14 @tzimiscequeen-blog @lansy-4

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece x reader #kid pirates #kid pirates x reader #killer x reader #heat x reader #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #kid one piece #eustass captain kidd #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #wire x reader #wire one piece #monsterfucker #monsterfucker smut #monster au

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sorreysorren · 5 months ago

Text

SPUR OF THE MOMENT

nagi caught your eye, simply by doing absolutely nothing. you weren't sure whether to call him an idiot or a genius.

you stared at the leaderboard.

in first place read the user: "SEICHOKI" in big, bold letters as if to mock you.

what the fuck?

for weeks, you'd been at the top of space invader's leaderboard, unrivaled by any other with your score of 87,598.

until now.

funnily enough, it's not like this "seichoki" beat you by hundreds of points, no. next to the user, by the hi-score tab, blinked the 87,600 in red.

it was a difference of 2 points.

all of the scores below your name were the same scores that had been present for over a year.

they were old, bland, and low.

it's not like many people ever pick this game anyway; it's old, objectively difficult, and looks rather unassuming compared to all the other attractions in the arcade.

so naturally, this irked you more than it would've if it had been any other game.

you exchanged a few crumpled dollar bills for a stack of coins.

─────────────────────────────────────────

you'd grown accustomed to the game's "heartbeat rhythm."

you timed your movements, moving from shelter to shooting as you moved forward. shelter to out, shelter to out, shelter to out. a process repeated quickly.

just a few more points.

you click. you move out of the shelter. "faster than fast, quicker than quick. i am lightning..."

"wise words. who'd you steal them from?"

"unwise of you to assume i stole them." you kept your gaze on the screen, but you already knew who the voice beside you was. "shouldn't you be helping little kids find their parents or something, hiori?"

he kept watching you play, and you could feel the silent judgment from his stare.

it was all fun and games, though. he was one of the first friends you'd made outside of school. his first few days on the job. you visited the arcade more often than you'd like to admit, meaning you were bound to make him owe you a favor at some point. you were either an angel sent from heaven or the devil itself straight out of hell. even to this day, hiori wasn't sure which you were.

NEW HIGHSCORE: 87,615

"... lightning mcqueen." you narrowed your eyes, but kept your focus on the game, not faltering once. "thank lighting mcqueen"

"you've been hogging the machine for the past hour."

please. nobody actually plays this."

"except for the guy who beat you."

"so it's a guy? do you know him"

"sort of. he was here with a guy i know. mikage reo, a new investor."

"well, are they coming again?"

"reo, yes. his friend? probably, or probably not."

─────────────────────────────────────────

you watched his playing style.

as it turns out, he did come back.

a few minutes ago, you'd started helping hiori organize the candy shelves in the gift shop. two people walked inside the gift shop area: a guy with purple hair, and one with white hair. the purple-haired one introduced himself as reo mikage, so you could infer the white-haired one was the so-called "seichoki".

this was further proven whenever you showed reo where hiori was, and on your way back, you noticed the white-haired boy was inserting coins into the space invaders machine. you slowly walked towards him, focusing on his screen.

so now,

it was down to the last few invaders and--

he followed a fast-moving group of invaders, shooting as he did.

are you an idiot? you wanted to ask. what he was doing was a perfect way to run into missiles.

"do you always play like that?" you couldn't help but ask.

he didn't respond immediately, which made you think he was ignoring you at first. but after a few moments, he finally responded, soundly uninterested.

"like what?"

"with that strategy" (if you could even call it one)

"what strategy?" a hint of confusion met his tone.

he's got to be kidding.

"never really needed one for this game," he added

you weren't sure whether to call him an idiot or a genius.

through the corner of his eye, he noticed your expression "it's about wiping them out as efficiently as possible, right?".

NEW HIGHSCORE: 92,105

your eyes widened slightly as you stared at the screen, "how is that even -"

the leaderboard screen popped up, his username now topping yours, once again.

"oh. are you the other player?" he asked

you nodded.

for a moment it looked like he had something to say, but that went away once someone called out, "nagi!"

you both turned to see that it was reo. there was a bewildered expression on his face once he noticed you and nagi had been conversing, though only for a split second. a smile grew on his face as he waited for nagi back at the entrance.

"gotta go." nagi said as he collected his tickets from the machine. he stood still for a moment as if yet again contemplating something else.

"good luck" he muttered as he passed by you, but you couldn't help but wonder if you imagined it.

as if you needed it.

you nudged the control in the direction the missile came from to avoid a missile dropped, while finally reaching the last few invaders.

you waited in the middle of the screen, firing where the invaders came from

again: forward, then shelter. shoot. then shelter again. again and again until--

the BGM faded like a broken record and the screen turned black.

it was as if the world was conspiring against you. you wondered if nagi somehow knew this would happen. if not, it was stupendously ironic that this happened after his good luck wish.

you turned to look for hiori, your only help.

good news: it can be fixed.

bad news: it has to be fixed.

"how long will it take?"

"i don't know." hiori sighed. "you are aware this game is kind of old anyway?"

"so?"

─────────────────────────────────────────

so.

you walked back into the arcade the next week, heading straight toward the space invaders machine.

there was already another figure standing right in front of the...pitch black screen.

"great." you mumbled in disappointment.

the figure turned around. it was nagi, a twizzler in his hand. you recognized it was the jumbo twizzlers from the gift shop.

aa you got closer, you noticed the 'OUT OF ORDER' sign which had been placed on top of the machine's screen.

"did you know that would happen?"

"no." he opened another twizzler.

"then why did you wish me luck?"

"i mean, the machine was making weird noises. but the good luck was just good luck."

you heard a familiar sigh coming from behind you and nagi.

hiori sighed, "listen. you didn't hear it from me, but as a temporary replacement, a new installment is coming soon"

you and nagi turned to look at hiori, at equal speed.

"for what game?" you asked for both you and nagi. his expression said he was equally as curious.

"i'm not supposed to speak about it yet."

hiori senses your disappointment, but of course, he also didn't want to lose his job.

"isn't it better as a surprise anyway? it's more fair that way" he tried to reason.

it really didn't make it more or less fair, but you still nodded in defeat.

you turned to look at nagi "until next time, then." because of course, you still wanted to beat him.

he glanced at you for a second, through the blurred reflection of the black screen. "yep." he shrugged. surely enough, he was looking forward to it.

—————♡—————

before he made it to the exit, you called out his name.

he didn't turn, but he stopped walking, which indicated he was listening.

"are you busy?"

"nope."

"wanna do something else?" you asked, with a bit of courage on your side.

he was silent for a few moments before responding, "sure."

you began walking towards the exit.

"good. 'cause i know this one candy store, and it's got way better candy than those twizzlers you're always having."

a/n: UMM the end was rushed af since i had this in my drafts for so long...and I just wanted to get it over with woops!!

taglist: @huaposh @bloodypainterswife @gigiiiiislife @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hanmasfavoritegirl @ewlyq @vagueval

#bllk #blue lock nagi #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #bllk manga #blue lock #blue lock manga #blue lock anime #bllk x reader #bllk x you #seishiro nagi #blue lock imagines #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader

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halcyonfawn · 1 year ago

Text

the meaning behind "face the raven" theme in "wild blue yonder" and more

a continuation of this post. i need to talk about this otherwise i'll explode.

some people have also said that this theme is playing in "last christmas" and "hell bent" (thank you for pointing that out, i'm going to die) which makes it all even worse (better). therefore, this post is, more or less, destined to turn into capaldi's era brainrot. but not all of it, i promise.

you've been warned.

first of all, allow me to refresh your memory. let's look into the context of the scenes where we heard this music theme before.

"last christmas"

according to series 8 official soundtrack, this theme is a part of "every christmas is last christmas" and is heard quite clearly two times. they're both important scenes for the doctor and clara.

too late.

a moment full of regrets and nostalgia. the doctor thinking he's lost clara again, wishing he would have come back sooner. clara reminicing her life without the doctor in it.

"so no one matched up to danny, eh?" "there was one other man, but that would never have worked out." "why not?" "he was impossible."

it is (heavily) implied that "one other man" is the doctor. does the doctor himself realise that she's talking about him? open for interpretation. but what this small exchange truly does is showing a game of saying something without actually saying it.

"can you really see no difference in me?" "clara oswald, you will never look any different to me."

yet another way of dancing around words. there's something special and touching about this last line. it is sort of a confession of unconditional love. but the word itself - love - is never spoken out loud.

then again, twelfth might be face blind.

second chances.

now, this scene is a complete opposite of the one mentioned above. it's full of hope, anticipation, happiness. a beginning of a new arc. he is given a second chance and he takes it. the doctor asks clara to run away with him once again. and she says "yes" without hesitation, takes his hand, kisses him on the cheek.

conclusion? these two scenes are focused entirely on the doctor and clara's relationship. it is there to show their strong connection, how much they mean to one another. utter devastation at the thought of their time ending and the absolute joy of reuniting after being separated. a chance at a happy ending. which also makes the music that plays on the background their theme.

"face the raven"

"every christmas is last christmas" is now turned into "face the raven" and is asocciated with clara's death. it also makes the previous name even more heartwrenching since last christmas was literally clara and doctor's last hurrah. we can hear this piece of music appear in two scenes as well.

clara's monologue about facing the raven.

"if danny pink can do it so can i. die right. die like i mean it, face the raven. maybe this is what i wanted. maybe this is it. maybe this is why i kept running. maybe this is why i kept taking all those stupid risks, kept pushing it."

she's accepting her fate and aknowleges her recklesness all the way throught the season 9. it was meant to be. there wasn't enough space for two doctors in the tardis.

"i let you get reckless" "why? why shouldn't i be reckless? you're reckless all the bloody time! why can't i be like you?" "clara, there's nothing special about me. i'm nothing but less breakable than you. i should've taken care of you."

this scene is also about how a human life can be so very short compared to the time lord's and how easily it can end. it's fragile. and it's the doctor's curse: bearing the pain of losing his loved ones.

clara meeting her fate.

as she approaches the raven, ever so brave, the doctor watches her. he hears clara scream, then witness her collapsing onto the ground. it is extremely painful, but this is, i repeat, the doctor's curse: watching his companions leave. there's no use in running away from that pain, it haunts him every step of the way.

"hell bent"

next time, "face the raven" theme can be heard during the memory wipe sequence. there is no name given for the background music in this particular moment, but it's quite obvious it represents loss and... letting go?

the doctor is about to make clara forget their time together (does that ring a bell, anyone?).

it is worth pointing out that the music becomes the loudest at the exact moment the doctor says:

"look how far i went for fear of losing you. this has to stop. one of us has to go."

it is the culmination of their relationship. companions that push each other to extremes. together they might destroy the whole universe in order to keep each other safe. there's no other way but to separate. they've formed such a strong connection than one is ought to forget the other.

even though at first the doctor is determined to wipe clara's memories, he then admits she is right: it is unfair to take away all that wonderful time they had from her. so he gives her a choice. or, more like, an offer to play a russian roulette. it's either you or me. i'm not going to press that button. we will do this together.

to summarise: all of these moments featured a strong connection between clara and the doctor. it also tells us a story about how hard it is to lose someone you care about deeply, especially for the doctor.

how is it all connected to the doctor and donna?

memory wipe

the doctor has to make donna and clara forget about him in order to keep them safe. expect that he doesn't give donna a choice, wiping her memory almost instantly, without saying a proper goodbye to her. obviously, he didn't have enough time to think of a better way to solve the problem since donna wouldn't have lasted long. however, it is still a decision he regrets making.

from "the star beast":

"i'm so glad you're back, donna. it killed me, it killed me, it killed me."

if we take a look at clara's situation, it's a bit different. i've already mentioned it above: at first, the doctor wants to do the same thing to clara that he did to donna. make her forget. expect, this time he is confronted for doing so (even threatened, at some point).

"these have been the best years of my life and they're mine."

i think this line triggers something in the doctor. because this is when he realises that this is not the right thing to do. not exactly. he'd already done it once and he regretted it. so this time, he offers a slightly different solution. someone still has to forget, but they'll press that button together. it's a mutual choice.

now, i know it's not entirely related to the dialogue in "wild blue yonder", but i think it's worth mentioning that donna and clara's stories are somewhat similar. i'm sure it's been said before, but it's still important.

donna's story was incomplete because she wasn't given a choice. now, that she remembers, 14th doctor makes sure their time together is worth-while. a second chance just like in "last christams".

too alike

another similarity between these two stories is that clara and donna are not entirely humans. not anymore.

donna's half timelord. even though her head is still not big enough to fit all the doctor's memories, she still has a part of the doctor in her.

clara's frozen in time, that makes her practically immortal. she risks her life, she reverses the polarity of the neuroblock, she gets her own tardis, she's even reffered to as "clara who" at the end of "hell bent". she has become the doctor in a sense.

but there can only be one doctor. so where's the story heading to at this point, i wonder? but we'll come back to this question later.

"but what really happened?"

before i say anything, it is obvious that the doctor's silence before and after he says "a lot" is him reminicing all that'd happened to him during the 11th, 12th and 13th reincarnations. all of the loss and pain he went through.

but why "face the raven" theme of all things? it could be a general theme of grief/nostalgia/painful memories, nothing else implied.

but please let me be delusional for a bit longer!

just as that scene in "hell bent" brought the doctor back to the moment he made donna forget him, could it be that bringing back his best friend's memories in a whole universe that "he absolutely loves", also reminded him of another important person in his life with similar story? just like "hell bent" mirrored "the journey's end", "wild blue younder" gave us a reference to "hell bent".

this is where we get back to the question about the current story direction.

foreshadowing?

donna's story is not over. and there are a lot of possibilities how it can end.

say, there is a connection to clara's story here, i wonder if that's where the plot's heading. in one of the trailers, the doctor does say "i'm not sure if i can save you this time" to donna. and it worries me. then again, maybe they're just tricking us into thinking something bad will happen (oh the drama).

i'd say it's unlikely donna's going to die because that would be absolutely devastating after just bringing her back. at the very least, the ending wouldn't be completely "happily ever after". perhaps, sacrifices will be made in order to prevent something truly horrible from happening.

why did this face come back?

in "the girl who died" twelfth doctor finally realises why he got his face. it is a call-back to "the fires of pompei" (don't even get me started on its being the episode with 10th and donna).

the message the doctor was giving to himself turned out to be:

"i'm the doctor and i save people!"

but what is 14th trying to tell himself?

i think it's about donna and more.

he's fixing his mistake of erasing her memories and depriving her of the right to remember amazing things that'd happened to her.

it's a reminder to actually tell people how much they mean to him. as we can see, 14th's more open with his feelings and constantly shows signs of affection towards his loved ones, even breaking the "never say i love you" rule.

it's about being honest and open with people because they deserve to hear it from him and he deserves to hear it back. because "things happen and then it's too late".

again, take 12th doctor, for instance. he constantly represses his feelings. but in my humble opinion, the reason why he's changed by season 10 was clara. she pulled him out of the dark place. and even though her death almost threw him back to that state again, he is still a better man by season 10.

but there were things left unsaid. love and care were always there but it was never said out loud. kind of the same thing happened with 13th.

i strongly believe that donna is that person for 14th. they're best friends who love each other deeply. and after the doctor lost her and got a second chance to fix everything, he does, he's being affectione. he's finally open with his feelings.

conslusion: why did you make us read all fo this?

to answer the question in the title: it's all tied with how memories are important and priceless, fixing past mistakes, moving on and learning to treasure every moment with people you care about like it's your last.

it can also be a foreshadowing for something terrible, but i choose to hope for the better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

aaaand that is the end of my doctor who rant. thank you for getting this far, if you did!

my feelings about all of this can be described with this one meme:

#doctor who #doctor who meta #dw #dw spoilers #wild blue yonder #twelfth doctor #fourteenth doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #clara oswald #face the raven #last christmas #hell bent #twelveclara #whouffaldi #i'm sincerely sorry if you've stumbled across some stupid grammatical or other mistakes while reading #i wrote a part of this at 3am #[unhinged analysis]

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nyashykyunnie · 4 days ago

Text

˗ˏˋ Entry : 049 - Lover! Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Trichotillomania ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[ Trichotillomania: Repeated hair pulling habits from stress, anxiety and depression. Do not engage with this fic if you are in a poor mental health state. Familial abuse. Physical abuse. Body Dysmorphia. Depression. Suicidal Ideation. Trichotillomania can be considered as a form of self harm. Other variations of self-harm is in heavy description. Ends in fluff ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Just Somewhere to Hide. Just somewhere. Anywhere. ] ¡! ❞

The only thing that's stopping you from ending things right now is that there is a lack of a knife present in your hands.

The kitchen is just a few steps away. Just one thrust into your heart and it's off to the comfortable embrace of death itself.

But you can't risk that, there's no spot in this godforsaken house you're imprisoned in for a peaceful death. Every corner of the walls around you is a death sentence to invite panic attacks in.

Why can't everyone just shut up and leave you be?

It's not like it's your fault you can't get into fucking college because of the tuition fee. Aren't you saving everyone's fucking wallets from that bullshit?

No one should give a fuck about your lack of education, you can enroll by the time the expenses die down.

You shouldn't have been here in the first place anyway. If it weren't for that single night you wouldn't be born.

But ah, life has a wonderful way of fucking up everything.

You grew pampered, with food served to you in rich flavors and huge amounts. You're thankful for that, you're thankful for the lovely childhood.

Oh how you wish to go back to those days.

But do you really?

Childhood may have been lovely but underneath all the glitters and rainbows were belts and hangers and brooms used to discipline you?

Can't spell a word right?

A smack from a fist.

Can't do your math right?

A smack from a hanger.

Can't translate between two languages fast enough?

A smack from the wood of a broom.

Can't do an essay right?

A smack with a belt.

Maybe childhood isn't lovely either.

Where was the place that you could hide yourself away? School.

Yes.

As much as you hated that place for all it's shitty standards it was a safe place. At least there you can pretend, at least there you can have some form of isolation even if you're being bullied and mocked for how you look and your voice sounds.

It's fine that you undergo discrimination and bullying, at least they're not swinging belts and brooms at you. It's just them destroying your self-esteem.

Not like you have any to begin with thanks to your parents who were even more brutal about your appearance that you now have body dysmorphia on tip of depression and anxiety.

Even if school is a place where teachers normalize humiliating students shamelessly for basic wrongdoings that can be corrected with simple warnings.

Even though that place is full of people who only respect you when they need something out of you, even if that place is a paradise for the pretty girls and a hell for those who don't fit the beauty standard— That place felt safer than anywhere else.

All your life you've never been given privacy because of your privilege. You're luckier than your cousins who have it harder, so be thankful.

But at one point you started wishing for your places to be switched. It's fine that you eat food that is burnt and poorly cooked, it's fine that you have to eat shitty food.

If it meant you can have a little more breather instead of getting anxious that you might have done something to earn the belt— It's fine.

You'd rather starve than anything else.

At some point in your life you started to pull your hair out. It started from a few strands. But all of the sudden there are clumps of hair gathered on the floors.

What did you get instead of receiving help?

A beating.

That's right, a beating.

You got your hair yanked, pinned to the floor, and slapped repeatedly on your helpless situation. When your aggressor was pried off of you— You got kicked on your already helpless situation.

In the end who is the one who asks for forgiveness and gaslit that you being pinned down and slapped is justifiable? You.

You.

The helpless you.

The you who isn't allowed to voice your feelings out so you grew to not know how to tell anyone what you really feel, even to the point that you feared telling your feelings is what will doom you into irreversible damage.

You feared your own emotions.

You feared everything you should have been allowed to fear from the years of abuse. The fear bedded into your soul.

Did you want help?

YES.

Fuck yes you did.

What happened instead? You are guilt-tripped into saying no that you don't need a psychiatrist despite the fact you have major social anxiety, severe trichotillomania and heck— You even cut yourself when you can.

Nothing.

Nothing could help you.

Everything is a prison and you yourself are rotten from the inside out.

No one wanted to help you.

Your family?

Right.

They only fucking insist on caring because the image of a severely mentally ill daughter is bad for their image.

Nobody really cared.

Nobody did.

Even if you cry your heart out nobody could help you.

Nobody wanted to help.

No one.

There's no one there.

Not here.

Not there.

Not anywhere.

You're all alone.

In this vast world that you try to paint into a pretty picture in your head— Not one soul wanted to help you.

The embrace of death seems all the more enticing now that you really think about it.

Why fear it?

Death gives you mercy from the agony of living.

Atleast if you're dead— No one ans nothing can hurt you.

You can sleep all you want while your body rots from six feet under.

You've always been rotten anyway.

Dying won't be any different.

Life always ends in slumber, it's about time for you to dream.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"My liege!" Beru's panicked voice yells out for his master, instantly jolting Jinwoo awake from his small nap after playing a few rounds after homework. "The empress— She's unwell!"

"Exchange"

The command slipped out of Jinwoo's lips in an instant. He knew what was happening.

Even if he doesn't know the full story of what you've been through— He knew the situation is bad as he feels Beru's heightened anxiety.

Jinwoo can technically peer into your memories and see for himself what really happens. But he didn't. He wanted you to tell him what happened in the years you grew up. He wanted you to tell him what pushed you to whatever the hell happened to you today.

He knew about your destructive habits. It was the result of bottling up your emotions for so long that it created a ticking time bomb that will burst at any moment should the right trigger be pulled.

And when Jinwoo finally materializes from the abyss-like wisps of shadows— He would find himself face to face with your figure staring out at the cityscape as you stand on the ledge.

"Stop, wait!" Jinwoo panics, breaking into sweat when he saw you take a stop.

He yanked your arm back in an instant, letting your back crash against his chest. Jinwoo held you firmly as you thrashed and screamed in his hold.

But ah, his strong arms will not let you go.

He refuses to let go. Knowing the moment he does you will take flight and descend to your demise. Still he was hyper aware of his strength, if he so ever squeeze too much and he might kill you.

As you stretched your palm out to yearn for the ledge— Jinwoo uses his to grab hold of yours and pull it back.

"That's not something you should longing for" Jinwoo says, his voice trembling as he uses his other hand to cover your eyes so you wont see it anymore. "A leap of faith is not what you need."

You kept thrashing in his hold, cursing Jinwoo out for daring to interrupt your final farewell.

But soon he would lift his palm up from your eyes.

As your eyesight adjusts back to the waking world— You find yourself no longer on top of the building you were in a second ago.

Instead in front of you is a vast field of grass with blooming flowers swaying back and forth along with the gentle breeze blowing your way.

Once Jinwoo could tell that you're no longer agitated, his hold becomes gentle, and instead he would just hug you from behind as you both sat on the grass.

Your breath was completely taken away by how pretty the sight is. Every single dark thought you had in your little head is instantly washed away by the peaceful and beautiful sight.

The sky itself is majestic, with full and fluffy clouds drifting about and even the stars blinking so prettily along with a meteor shower.

While your gaze is distracted by everything else, Jinwoo's eyes are on you. He could see another bald spot on your head from your hair plucking habits. At the center of it was a huge gaping wound fresh and still bleeding. He blows on it gently, the wound closing instantly and your strands growing back anew as if nothing ever happened in the first place.

"Better?" He finally asks as he nuzzles the side of your head.

"Mhm." You weakly nod, too distracted to really talk properly.

"I know, I know that I can't tell you that everything will get better" Jinwoo holds you softly, holding you tighter. "It'll be stupid for me to try and tell you about rainbows and whatnot."

"..."

"But if you want to run away, if you want to be somewhere far away like this. Just tell me. Don't go hurting yourself, don't think about leaving this world" He goes on.

You can't see him directly, but you knew by the tremble of his voice that he must be crying. And yet Jinwoo pretends to be strong. The one who needs comfort is not him, but you.

"When the world is too cruel on you, when everything is just too painful for your, when you just want to cry— Turn to me." Jinwoo said, no— He was pleading you. "I'll take you here. Just you and me. Just us."

A place of solace.

A paradise for both of you.

A place where no one can hit you, no one can yell at you, a place where you can let your guard down.

The thought of that caused you to break into tears. You wanted to tell him what you feel. What you think. What happened and why you're like this. But instead you only sob.

You can only cry your sorry little heart out, you let out all the screams and tears you've been hiding because you will be guilt-tripped for having emotions. For being weak.

Yet this man wasn't doing any of that. Instead he was rubbing your back as if he understood what you were trying to tell him in your tears.

You don't have to hurt yourself. Not as long as he's here. If it's a hero you need then he will be your saviour. Jinwoo wants to show you that you are loved.

If not by the world, then by him.

He will love you, more than he has now.

The world is beautiful, and you have unfortunately been too exposed to the ugliness of everything. So he will be your beacon of light.

He'll hold your hand and show you everything that should have been shown to you in the first place. He'll pamper you to the point that you'll forget your destructive habits.

After all, those came to life because of your environment.

In the hellhole that you are imprisoned in, he'll pull you out to take you home. A home for you and him.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What a way to start my Lover series hahah. I just needed this fic so bad so I'm sorry for introducing my new series like this. If you are in need of professional help please reach out immediately should you are able to. Please don't bottle up your emotions. You're only hurting yourself. If you are unable to reach out to therapists then please talk to your friends or close people for comfort. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling x you #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x fem reader #sung jinwoo fics #sung jinwoo fic #sung jinwoo headcanons #seong jinwoo #seong jinwoo x reader #solo leveling headcanons #only i level up #ore dake level up na ken

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melbatron5000 · 9 months ago

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Reality is . . . off

Here's me, screaming into the void. I've got no theory, only Clues.

Reality seems to be acting strangely in Season 2 of Good Omens. Mostly around Aziraphale. My examples:

This season seems to be from Aziraphale's point of view, and all the colors and lighting seem to be very bright and vibrant.

The note from Maggie -- another post on Tumblr (damned if I can find it now) pointed out that she puts her phone down right as Aziraphale comes into her shop for the first time. She seems to be texting him, but the text message arrives to his door as a note in the mail slot because that's how he expects to receive correspondences.

Changing the Bentley into Our Car -- and in the flashback to 1941 that happens after the trip to Edinburgh in the show, the Bently is still a four-door. He changed it and then made it so it always was that way. (There's a line in the book about someone being powerful enough to change something and then make it so it always was that way -- something that's repeated about the Book of Life, too. Hmm . . .) No wonder Crowley just opens up the back door to put his plants in, it's always had a back door at that point! And please don't @ me with the Bently is not a Clue -- the change happens right in scene, on screen. That was not a "they hoped no one would notice" moment. And yes, I know they weren't able to use Mary for the second season. They got a reasonable look-alike, and then changed that car into a four-door. For why??

The Bentley following him when he parks it. People have said, "Oh, yes, the Bentley is sentient, of course!" But it hasn't done anything to show that until after Aziraphale drives it. And don't @ me with the Queen -- the gag in the book says that any album left in a car for more than a fortnight transmogrifies into The Best of Queen. It's not the Bentley doing that, it's just a fact of Queen. (Can confirm.)

Aziraphale is terrible at magic. But somehow, when he really needs to make a trick work, he does it. Oh, yeah, babe? You just put that photo right up your sleeve slick as that? Hm.

That 25 Lazarii miracle. Neither of them expected that. Yet there it was.

The whole ball. He wasn't casting miracles, reality was just -- conforming itself to what he wanted.

Now my point is . . . I don't know. My observation is that reality seems to be following Aziraphale's wishes, and I don't think he even realizes that it shouldn't be. Not entirely. Or is it that he knows reality is re-shaping itself around him, and he's enjoying it?

Reality is not warping around Crowley in the same way, and Crowley seems to be able to feel something's wrong. Coming in waves, like a hangover.

Now, I have heard it said that Neil has also pointed out that our angel and demon warp reality just by existing. Okay, actually makes sense. How could an occult and celestial being not mess with reality without even realizing they're doing it?

Am I chewing on a nothing burger?

Is Aziraphale turned up somehow?

What is going on.

#good omens meta #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fan theory #a half-baked idea #help I've fallen into a good omens theory and I can't get out

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hjpslytherclaw · 2 years ago

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Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

#hjpslytherclaw #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry james potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry james potter imagine

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hobiespick · 4 months ago

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Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fanfiction #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #supernatural headcanons #supernatural fandom #supernatural season 1 #reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #sava preaches

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fortheb0ys · 10 months ago

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BOTTOM KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK × TOP MALE READER

☆TRUE LOVE ISN'T MEANT FOR SOLIDERS ☆

Just some short angst for you, pookies😘 Gaz Nation rise!

CW: angst, talking about death, sex (i wasn't too descriptive with it), not proofread and I wrote this very quickly tehehe

FEM ALIGNED+MINORS DNI

Being friends with benefits was supposed to be a fun little thing. Just sex, no strings or feelings attached. Something to help relieve stress. But to Gaz your relationship with quite the opposite. He loved you when he should have never had.

Even though he promised himself that he'd walk away the moment he felt that feelings were there, he would end it before they grew. He could never keep that promise.

It was never a one time thing. He'd see you in the showers after a mission and be on his knees with you in his mouth within minutes. Or late nights talks under the stars would turn into outdoors sex.

The moonlight shining dimly on two sinful bodies. Gaz arching his back to look at the moon instead of your handsome face. He'd imagine your face if you woke up in bed on a lazy morning. War doesn't ring loudly in your ears. Just you and him. No fear. No guilt.

But what if sex wasn't enough to dull the gnawing emotions. It was always there at the back of Gaz's mind, slowly creeping to the forefront. It's presence became more and more as time progress. Showcasing itself outside of your private time.

Like when he saw how you've became close with Soap. He'd invite you to do things off base, drink or to watch football. Without him. Did you fuck Soap like him? Did you call him 'baby' like you would him?

Questions filled his mind. Knowing he'd never get answers, Gaz pushed his feelings away. You weren't his and never will be, he'd tell himself. To you, he'd be just a stress reliever. If Gaz were to die, you'd never bring flowers to his grave or cry over missing him.

Your gentle thrust ground him to the present moment. He rocks back to meet you halfway. Tears are threatening to leave his eyes. Not from pleasure but simply from the pain the wrecked through his heart.

You'd kiss all over his his face. Fingers tracing over his lips. The loving pecks felt real but they shouldn't be. You look into his eyes and smile. It was so caring and beautiful. Everything about you was. Gaz wished that if he were to die, that you would be the last thing he ever saw.

"What's the matter, baby?"

The nickname coming from your mouth was true heaven.

I love you. Please, I need you to love me.

His heart screamed out. But the words never left his mouths.

"Nothing."

Gaz knew it was so wrong but it felt so right. He keeps his promise for a few weeks than comes right back.

Your bodies fit too perfectly for it not to be fate. Gaz just feels like it's too much of a risk to be together and serve. Servicemen with benefits was better, right? Just sex and no feelings. Pleasure in the midst of war.

Missions were hell. He constantly worried for you. Nearly gotten himself killed multiple times trying to keep you safe. It became such a problem Price seriously debated on separating the two of you.

Gaz should step away. Step away before it's too late. Before sees his beloved dead on the battle. Stomp out the feelings of love before it consumes him.

Gaz always wonder if you felt the same. Did you feel the constant fear that he would no longer be with you eat away at your bones? Did you love him as much as he loved you? Did the way you fuck mean love? You were so tender and gentle, love had truly been there to some extent.

The time to ask never came, though. It would never. Gaz was too afraid if he did that, you'd say, 'Yes'. That his feelings would grow. He was more afraid of that outcome more than if you said 'No'.

Deployment. Fuck. Repeat.

Every night together, Gaz would wake up before to a heart full of regret. Dirty from sex. The smell of it hung heavy over him. The shame faded as you held him close. Your soft snores were the only thing auditable. Just one more time. Tomorrow morning, Gaz would be gone this time. He dosed off thinking of a universe where you could be together without the fear of losing you.

#call of duty mwii #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #x reader #call of duty mw2 x male reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #x top reader #top male reader #sub character #☆*charlie writes

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year ago

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Make Me Feel Alive Episode 2

Gilbert von Obsidian's Birthday Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

Several decades ago, a series of unfortunate events occurred in Obsidian, involving the deaths of members of the royal family and powerful nobles.

It all began with the assassination of the crown prince, followed by incidents such as accidental falls, carriage accidents, bloodshed due to tangled love affairs, and executions.

The unfortunate events continued as if someone were orchestrating them behind the scenes, and those who had been enjoying the power desperately tried to gain favor with the surviving influential figures.

The one who caught the attention of several people was a young prince who was still a child back then.

Despite the repeated deaths within the royal family, the one-eyed boy walked through the castle with a smile.

With just a few words, he demonstrated wisdom beyond his years, and it didn't take long for people to see in him the qualities fit for a king.

The one-eyed boy would eventually become the emperor.

The rumors spread like wildfire, and people did their best to gain his favor.

Gilbert: "It was fun back then. People who never paid me any attention suddenly bowed their heads, and the grown-ups kneeled before me."

Gilbert: "I wish I could've shown you how embarrassing that scene was."

(His childhood stories are always lonely.)

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Stop making that face. We haven't even gotten to the main part yet."

Emma: "Is this even related to your birthday?"

Gilbert: "Yeah. Think about it. If you were trying to win me over, what would you do first?"

Emma: "I'd bake lots of sweets."

Walter: "Please, stop with the carbs."

Emma: "S-Sorry."

Gilbert: "Shut up if you don't want to die, Walter."

Walter: "It's my job to watch over your health."

Gilbert: "Noisy outsiders aside, your idea is correct. You're going to give me something that I would enjoy, right?"

Gilbert: "But a gift, by its nature, cannot be given without a reason. That's why many people focus on一"

Emma: "Your birthday?"

Gilbert: "Yup. At that time, people saw me as a child. And what do children love? Presents."

Gilbert: "One certain year, a useless noble threw a birthday party for me."

------------Flashback-----------

Noble: "Happy birthday, Prince Gilbert."

Noble: "I sincerely offer my congratulations to you, Your Highness. This gemstone is a gift from our family."

Gilbert: "Fufu, thank you. But I don't need that kind of thing."

Noble: "Prince Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "I'm tired and sleepy, so I'm heading back. Goodnight."

Noble: "P-Please wait!"

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Don't worry. I have plans to meet with you tomorrow."

Noble: "Plans?"

Gilbert: "Yes. Well then, let's meet again at the execution ground."

Noble: "What!?"

---------Flashback Ends--------

Gilbert: "The next day, I killed him."

Emma: "What?"

Gilbert: "I just tried to make an example out of the guy."

I was so shocked that my mind went blank.

Roderich: "He was executed for human trafficking and illegal drug possession."

Roderich: "He was an underground merchant who trained unidentified orphans with drugs and illegally traded them. Prince Gilbert had been一"

Gilbert: "Hey, did I ever say you could open your mouth?"

Under his murderous gaze, Roderich fell silent.

Gilbert: "Anyway, I killed him."

Gilbert: "How did the people react? Of course, they thought that celebrating my birthday had upset me."

Gilbert: "After that year, there weren't any more daredevils."

Gilbert: "I was able to eliminate those who celebrated my birthday. All's well that ends well."

Emma: "Why did you hate being celebrated that much?"

(His birthday is taboo for the Obsidian people.)

(But celebrating itself shouldn't be a bad thing.)

Gilbert: "I wonder why?"

Seemingly reluctant to delve into the matter, Gilbert hid his words behind a smile.

Even when I looked at Roderich and Walter, they just shook their heads.

(Maybe no one really knows the reason.)

Gilbert: "Now then, little rabbit. As you said, my birthday is approaching soon."

He suddenly stood in front of me, gently placing his hands on my neck and squeezing it lightly.

Gilbert: "Will you also celebrate my birthday at the risk of your life?"

Episode 1 ╎ Episode 2 ╎ Episode 3

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri jp #cybird #ikepri translations

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lady-quen · 20 days ago

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End of the Line

"A lifeless mannequin, dancing on strings. Each string spoke to him in the thousand hushed voices of magic. It hurt. Each string begged him to usher his body back together. The Alchemy danced behind his eyes. A silver serpent, swallowing its own tail. It fucking hurt. It isn't over, it said. You made it so." "You killed your death, now live with it."

[Post-EoD drabble, 3k words, just exploring the consequences of people finding out my Commander a is a lich. Part of joint canon with @commanderteag (Maolmuire used with permission.) Angst, tw for decapitation, swearing, fantasy racism. I took some very mild creative liberties with the Pact status and the Void.]

Even times of newfound peace still had their work cut out for what remained of the Pact.

The original plan had been to dissolve after Jormag and Primordus. Then, after Soo-Won. And now, with Void stragglers remaining all around the world, he was in charge of the strike forces in a large-scale round-em-up-and-neutralize operation. Because of course he would be - the famed Pact Commander that he was. At least the rounding up part was easy, with choice waypoints repurposed into ley-line beacons at Taimi's suggestion. One he took gladly, with the haze beast as the precedent for Void's attraction to energy nexi.

At least, this time, his emotions weren't being used as the lure. Even if the calculations were just barely within the margin of error, his daughter's plan was working.

"Sir! We've got sightings in the canyon!" Elina, one of the scouts, reported. Maelmordha nodded, comms device clicking to life.

"Hundar Pike strike force! On my mark, unload all explosives into the valley!"

"Demolitionist Tirxxi reporting! All troops in position!"

Splendid. Despite last minute adjustments when the Void headed down an alternate path, everything was going more or less smoothly. Much easier this way - if this continued to go well enough, nobody would even have to engage the enemy in ground combat. He alone would likely be more than sufficient to pick off the leftovers. A bitter smile graced his features in anticipation. Ever since Aurene had departed into slumber, he could no longer count on that little miracle atop the Harvest Temple. And so, he had to make this work without her.

The Void was already dying out, but the last of it congregated in areas most affected by the late Elder Dragons. Though waiting was certainly an option, there was always the risk of further loss of life - and so, mobilizing the army for one final cleanup was the most logical course of action. The Commander's voice once again entered the channel.

"Site Alpha confirmed, reached. Team Alpha, on my mark... Now!"

He could feel the explosion from miles away. The ground itself shook as a decent part of the canyon collapsed into itself, burying the monsters below in a rockslide, clouds of gunpowder, and an avalanche for good measure. Freeform Void attempted to bleed through out of the cracks before dissolving into the air without particular fanfare.

He repeated the order for site Beta, cutting off the encroaching shadows and closing the valley behind them. Perfect. Like sheep herded to the slaughter - without the mind behind it, the chaotic element was as directionless as any other dragon minions left without their master.

Still, where it was directionless, it was certainly not a complete pushover. The final act drew close; Descend into the valley on-foot with Legion choppers monitoring closely from above. If it gets ugly, fall back. It shouldn't, but he was no fool to risk his troops like so.

"Lieutenant Tornbanner. Everett. Cinniod. Maolmuire. We're going in."

"Sir yes Sir!"

A small contingent of shock troopers under Tornbanner, Everett's medics, Cinniod's mages and Maolmuire would be more than enough to make quick work of whatever creatures still clawed their way out of the snow. There weren't many, and most were already far too dazed by the explosion and distracted by the ley line energy wafted into the canyon to be as much of a threat in close quarters as they used to be during the Canthan campaign. And so, in they went.

Two dozen pairs of boots touched the ground when suddenly, the Commander raised up an arm, signaling for the soldiers to wait. His gaze, fixed on the heaps of rubble, was unreadable.

"...Allow me to handle this by myself. Stay behind and make sure nothing sneaks up on any of us. Eyes and ears wide open."

He did have a rather poor track record with magical lures. It would be for the best if he went on ahead and cleared the way, with the others as backup but otherwise out of harm's way. The unmistakable spires of Brand crystals shimmered all around him in their rich, purple hue, framing an entrance underground. Kralkatorrik. Guess a piece of the old man remained beneath the canyon, after all. Not that completely erasing an Elder Dragon's influence from the world was easy, even for another one. Forces this old had their roots set firmly in the world.

A part of him wondered whether she really wanted to purge every last trace of her grandfather. These crystals, now dormant - in a sense, were they not the final keepsake she still had of him..?

Did she remember him? Were the Dragons not connected by some sort of Dream? Did it possess past memories, as well? Did she know what he was like before he -

Went mad. Razed billions. Slaughtered her mother.

Something turned deep within his gut, a familiar pain he did not expect. Visions of a burning blade, the same one that took his life - and an asuran prodigy, the only other mortal he had known who stood, with him, at the precipice of immortality. How did it feel..? To achieve the state he had. Locked within the chassis of a machine, mind uploaded into ones and zeroes. A novel form of life, if it could be called that.

Blish, do you think you were alive?

He descended further into the cave, Banner warband watching closely behind.

My golem body kept me safe, but... if anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself.

Forgiveness. What a fleeting concept, comparably far easier to give than to receive. He stared into the brilliant violet. Hey, old friend... are you in there, still..? Do you "forgive" me?

Killing and corrupting... it's what you do. It's what you were born to do.

W - what?

A harsh left, swords pointed at nothing. Gold eyes blinking against the crystal gleam before turning to face his troops. The Commander gave a reassuring nod - nothing here, either.

He wasn't sure whether whatever he heard was a voice inside his mind or a product of stress. Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. The crystals had eyes.

Could a dead thing feel..? This wasn't Kralkatorrik. He was gone. And yet, there was a distinct sorrow within the air, and each step felt like moving through mud. He couldn't help but wonder: Did the beast regret all that he had killed? Was this a final vestige of his tortured soul, buried in hopes of never again seeing sunlight? Was what Aurene had been doing all this time..?

It wasn't just to erase his corruption. It was to erase his pain. Kralkatorrik, he... couldn't rest easy until he was gone to the very last, it seemed. But what about Blish? Was he gone, too, or was he suspended in that hellish state of darkness? Unable to pass on until the silent prison holding him was destroyed without a trace? Dear Mother, why did everything have to always end in boundless suffering?

And it was then that he realized. The miscalculation was not a miscalculation. They accounted for it, yes, but the Void? It hadn't been following the ley line at all.

It was following Kralkatorrik's torment.

The ground shook. Tendrils of black slithering through bedrock, snaking around Brand pillars.

Several malformed creatures emerged, taking on shapes of the long dead in a chaotic masquerade. Icebrood. Risen. Branded. Destroyers. Mordrem.

"Fall back!" Maelmordha wasted no time. This was bad terrain - a chokepoint. They needed to make it back out into the open, into a direct sightline with the choppers, should all this go south even faster than it was already going.

Wherever he was involved, things had a habit of turning to shit. SNAFU, indeed. At least then, his presence usually prevented the situation from escalating from merely "shit" to "fucked beyond measure and then some."

He was not about to let anyone die this time.

For you. Trahearne, Eir, Almorra, Blish, and too many others to count.

"I'll hold them back! Go! Go! Go!" A swift cut from Lædingr ended a charging Icebrood. Black ooze splashed his armor, sizzling where it hit. "Don't worry about me, I'll be right behind you!"

It was a lie. But, hah, he was very much planning on surviving. Call him a control freak - but this? How this ended was entirely up to him.

No more hesitation. No more loss. No more -

Vaughn Tornbanner's matchlock took out one last Mordrem before the Lieutenant herded his warband outside, the charr providing cover for escaping medics. Flame and lightning magic crackled all around them, lashing out against whatever unlucky monsters sought a bite of the Commander's forces. Here and there, phantom mirages of the fourth Knight of Thorn distracted and incinerated foes with beams of light.

There was more Void here than they had ever accounted for. Even in its death throes, it closed in like a storm.

The diabolist focused, and shade magic enveloped his form. The necromantic fire in his blades erupted into a blaze of blue, his once-gold eyes opening to the same, cold hue. Rows of fangs unfurled upon his chest, a full-body snarl.

In the shimmering dragon amethyst, he swore he could glimpse an image of a small and sickly asura. In life, Blish had mirrored Taimi so closely.

His lips moved, soundless. There was judgement in his eyes.

The front line of Void creatures suddenly stopped, phantom hooks digging into the mass of writhing shadow as his chains constricted all like hungry serpents. With a sickening crunch, the bodies before him were warped, limbs torn from their sockets, necks snapped, multicolor eyes fading in the flash freeze of death. He exhaled a puff of frigid breath, attempting to channel enough ice to seal over the entrance. In his chanting, Grenth's own magic - permafrost extending out of his palm in an explosion of crystalline shards.

The Void. It was trapped... finally.

"Commander!" There was abject terror in Cinniod's voice. Several people gasped. Maelmordha made a single step to turn around, dual blades still held firmly within his grasp.

"Everyone! Is everyone -"

There was the vague sensation of something cold passing through his flesh. A blur of black and technicolor, a flash of steel on his left - his eyes followed it, and then it was on his right. He... his neck... hurt.

Something strange happened to his vision and he watched his own body collapse with a thud against the ice wall. Rivulets of gold quickly seeping into black fabric as he convulsed and fell slack, Dromi and Lædingr falling from the grasp of still-twitching fingers.

"Holy shit." Someone commented, eloquently.

Vaughn's rifle and Maolmuire's blade made short work of the beast who had mysteriously gotten behind the seal.

"Commander..!" A cacophony of meaningless voices that only registered as though from underwater. Gibberish. People shouting, shuffling closer, then back again in sheer disbelief. Distant sounds of magic and gunfire, a yelled warning as more Void began to close in, this time having dug itself out of the avalanche resting outside. Someone at his side, clearly shell-shocked, calling for a medic.

What... what was... going on..? His senses, suspended and disembodied. He willed his hands to move and watched them do so, as though he were a puppetmaster observing his doll.

A lifeless mannequin, dancing on strings. Each string spoke to him in the thousand hushed voices of magic. It hurt. Each string begged him to usher his body back together. The Alchemy danced behind his eyes. A silver serpent, swallowing its own tail. It fucking hurt. It isn't over, it said. You made it so.

You killed your death, now live with it.

The body slumped against the ice seized, more sap spurting out of the stump of its neck. But his spirit held dominion over it yet. That foolish, foolish spirit. Fists clenched, feeling the familiar shape of sword handles. It was jarring. Utterly disorienting, but he closed his eyes, and he allowed the puppet strings of his curse to guide his movements. And he rose, like the countless dead he once commanded.

Now upright, the lich's body stumbled over to where his head lay. He released Lædingr and felt his own fingers in his leaves, and then he willed them to lift.

Only then did he open his eyes. Nothing but blackness and striking blue. Phantom pain pulsed throughout his flesh, and it maddened him. Even now, disconnected from his lungs, he let out a broken laugh - it seemed to reverberate, like the voice of a ghost. The Pact forces turned to face him. Several drew their weapons.

The implications of everything that transpired in this cave would wait.

"Just... let me handle this. Nobody dies here... but me."

He was the expendable one. He was the sacrificial lamb. And he was the wolf, draped in lambskin. Every death he took instead of another was penance. His every breath was a lie, for as long as nobody knew the true extent of the monster he really was.

Blish' mechanized voice echoed in his mind. This is the end of the line.

No more secrets.

That's right. He was the accursed; The Commander of Death. And all his fallen subjects haunted him.

Maelmordha stepped out of the darkness, Dromi hovering patiently next to his hand as he cast a spell. Without a shred of mercy, phantom fangs crushed the few Void creatures that still remained, grinding them into less than the dust they had come from. And then, all was quiet. Only the winter wind and the buzz of ley magic in his ears.

The Pact troops slowly approached, and with a deep sadness he realized most of their weapons were pointed at him. Their eyes, reflections of terror. And he realized he was still holding his head like a grocery bag.

The necromancer loudly cleared his throat - if a ghostly impression of doing so counted.

"...Excuse me." He fumbled for a moment to place his head where it used to be, making several adjustments before what seemed like blue fire began to knit his flesh back together.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Cinniod confessed, knees giving out as the elementalist violently dry-heaved into the snow. Several worried voices chattered, indistinct. Indecisive. He couldn't blame them - after all, they had just witnessed their hero turn out to be a villain. Perhaps Joko had been right - at least in the sense that both of them were abominations.

Perhaps the world would one day need saving - from him. But until then, he could still work to make it better.

"Soldiers."

His troops shuffled uncomfortably. They had every right to. Monster, someone snarled. He smiled.

"A good friend once told me.. to stop keeping secrets. I admit I fumbled that spectacularly. So, now, there you have it."

"Fucking knew you can't have killed a god." Vaughn spat, lips trembling over angry fangs. He raised his rifle, claw hovering dangerously over the lever. "Without selling your soul for power."

He laced his fingers, and smiled apologetically. There was no resentment in his eyes, only understanding. No words to make it better. Only open ears, to hear what was overdue. The price for this betrayal. At the very least, he had managed to keep up the act until the Dragon War was over. This operation? He would gladly step down if asked. Though Logan had been aware from the start, they both agreed on one thing: keep it under wraps. And if the cat ever gets out of the bag, then, well...

"Soldier." He addressed the charr. "While we're still on the field, your behavior is mutiny. Reconsider."

"Fucking bold of you to talk, monster!"

"And pray tell, what will shooting me accomplish that cutting off my head failed to?"

The Lieutenant snarled, but slowly lowered his gun. Bronze eyes gazing with nothing but pure disgust at the sylvari who seemed to be, despite all, a picture of flawless stoicism. All a part of his charm. Every liar needed a strong façade.

The Commander opened his mouth to speak. Maolmuire, however, had other ideas.

"Everyone! Don't you know the Void's properties have been evolving? Didn't you hear about the haze in the Gyala Depths?"

Maelmordha sighed. "Maolmuire..."

"It's messing with us. This is a mass hallucination!"

It seemed he had to be more... forceful.

"Maolmuire, stop! You've said enough."

"You're complicit, huh, you malformed weed?" Tornbanner sneered. "All you hivemind bastards were in on it from the get-go."

The necromancer focused his gaze on the Iron Legionnaire, something dark in his eyes that sent a shiver of dread up the warrior's spine. "I'm asking for the last time, Lieutenant Tornbanner. As for everyone else. I do not intend to falsify the truth, and welcome those who wish to report the incident to do so at their leisure."

He could feel an era close with his words. Despite everything, still he smiled. Time and time again, he found a way to smile in the face of those who doubted him. Always, he would.

"It is overdue that I stand in front of the Pact War Tribunal for my crime against Tyria and her people. But first... Lieutenant, report. Is everyone alright?"

Something shifted behind Vaughn's eyes. Flews slipping over jutting fangs - a predator that only stood down knowing its might to be no use. Not in front of a Godkiller. A Dragonslayer. A... whatever this man even was.

"Nobody was badly hurt... Maelmordha." The name tasted like venom on his tongue. "I answered you. So now, you'll answer us."

"I will, rest assured." Without further ado, the choppers descended, extending ladders. The necromancer looked away, turning his gaze to the sky.

"Everyone. It was an honor to be your Commander."

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 oc #gw2 commander #gw2 necromancer #quen's ocs #Maelmordha #About the Commander #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #also for context: taimi is like his adoptive daughter and he refers to her as such #eod spoilers

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