#and i destroyed poor Wild's right ear

[sweeteastart]

If you're still doing the outfit challenge, can you do Hyrule or Wild in B4?

Your art is stunning btw!

Still doing it ! As long as it's pined and I receive asks, I'll keep going I think :D

Also I'll give u one better op, both of them ! I felt inspired, and really, they rock it. I had fun squeezing in my little headcanons mostly Hyrule's eyes having a red glow because of the blood curse thing and Wild eye being white in the center on the scared side. Not completely blind but visually impaired/sensitive to light.

You guys are gonna make me blush with all the compliments-- thanks you

Thank for the ask ♪♪♪♪

[gaytommykinard]

so do we think buck becomes the default bachelor party planner in the group?

hen says, “you can't be serious. after what happened with chimney's party?”

buck looks scandalised. “uhh, the groom had viral encephalitis! that's hardly my fault!”

maddie chimes in to remind him that he showed up half an hour late to the wedding, covered in puke and glitter.

eddie, snickering, says, “she’s got you there.”

“got me? it's your fault we got so drunk.” and that’s the story he’s sticking with, thank you very much; he’s outgrown his early-20s partyboy days, but eddie is a bad influence (and it’s okay, the poor guy didn’t really have a twenties).

“and it’s both your fault you destroyed my hotel room.” chimney says. “you maxed out my credit card with the charges for the damages.”

eddie has the decency to look embarrassed because they really did go wild that night. sober eddie was full of so much regret.

“hey, i paid you back for the charges!” buck says, trying to defend himself. “whatever, this one will be good, right, ravi?”

everyone turns to look at ravi who feels like he’s being put on the spot. “oh... uh... yeah, no, bachelor parties aren't really a tradition with indian weddings.” there. that’s a good enough excuse.

buck is adamant. “but it's an indian-american wedding! and the bride is practically my step-sister.”

eddie gives him an odd look. “you’re making some pretty big leaps there, buck.”

“in what world is may grant your step-sister, you nuthead?” hen is asking, though she’s smiling, clearly amused.

buck simply shushes them. it gives everyone flashbacks to the night of chimney’s bachelor party.

“you might as well accept it, ravi, you're getting the party whether you like it or not.” chimney says, patting ravi on the shoulder consolingly.

buck is beaming. he pulls his laptop out of his bag and opens the spreadsheet where he’s already written down some ideas. eddie takes one look at the screen and his eyes grow comically wide.

“i’m calling tommy.”

“he’s on shift.”

“i’m calling him anyway.”

buck rolls his eyes. “now,” he asks, turning to ravi. “what’s your favourite decade?”

(joke’s on eddie though, because tommy’s ears perk up like a dog’s and he pulls out his phone to see if he can book a chopper to fly them all to vegas, because that’s a classic bachelor party destination, eddie, and he’s doing it for free, so hush.

even chimney gets excited and high fives tommy. “i knew saving your ass would pay off eventually.”

...at least eddie and ravi have each other, right?)

[confused-lover]

Um hello! I saw your asks were open! If it's not too big of a deal, could I ask for Ace and Deuce fighting over who gets to confess to reader first?

A Fight For Love

thank you for the request! hope you enjoy this <3

Ace x reader / Deuce x reader Summary: Ace and Deuce fighting over who gets to confess to reader first. Warnings: Yuu!reader, (english is not my first language)

You could hear a commotion from the common room. You aren’t supposed to have anybody over today, your sweet day off from all the bullshit this campus has brought upon you since day 1.

But obviously, the universe had other plans. It’s when you hear a loud meow and a crash that you finally acknowledge what will most likely transform your afternoon into a wild goose chase for a solution to a problem you have nothing to do with. 

Sometimes you wonder how the world was able to go on without anybody's extinction before you came along. 

It’s with a sigh that you get up from your newly bought bed (Epel somehow, someway, destroyed the previous one) and walk from your bedroom to the corridor, to the stairs, and finally to the common room, where you find before you what could only be considered a scene from a shitty comedy show from the early 2000s. 

Ace with a chair in his raised hands, ready to throw it at his opponent. What shocks you from that vision is the fact that the chair in his hands is from his own dorm, which means he has to have brought it with him himself, for some reason. 

Deuce has Grim in his right hand and a pillow in the other and you can see the cat trying to scratch his attacker for freedom.

Poor Jack in the middle with both his hands put in a position to stop the idiot duo and his body angled to shield Epel who until that point looked unbothered from all the chaos. 

Thankfully the moment you enter the room everybody has the dignity to either look shocked and apologetic or downright embarrassed. Grim takes his chance to jump away from Deuce’s hands and runs to you.

“What the hell is everybody doing and why are you doing it in my dorm? Of all the places in the world!” Now that’s when they all look down, trying to make themselves look pathetic in your eyes to hopefully not get an earful from you.

“He started it!”

“He started it!”

“I didn’t even do anything!”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to stop them!”

“Myaah!”

They all scream in unison making your head spin and they continue to do so, screaming at each other who did what to whom for that reason and the other. ‘It was my idea first!’ ‘I thought about it before you!’ ‘I care about it more!’ ‘I’m older’! Blah, blah, blah. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Couldn’t they be more cliche?

“STOP! Everybody out! I don’t know what’s going on and I honestly don’t care. It’s my day off so whatever problem you’ve brought upon yourselves, deal with it. On your own.”

Miraculously they all leave without saying a single word. In your heart, you know that this is something that you’ll have to help solve one way or the other. Since the day you came to this freakish land is like you’ve become the go-to problem solver and everybody else has lost the ability to be independent. But one thing at a time, now the most important thing to do is go upstairs, get under those warm fluffy blankets, and take a fat nap. 

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“Oh Great Seven, now she’s angry with us. Again!”

“Ace, stop whining as if it’s not your doing as well.”

The duo continues to bicker back and forth until they reach their dorm room. Jack and Epel left them the moment they saw a chance to escape their idiocy, so it’s only the two of them. The two of them who are immediately confronted by their oh-so-lovely, red-faced, angry housewarden.

Once Ace is able to tuck himself to bed without breaking his neck due to the collar now attached to it, he thinks that maybe stealing a chair wasn’t one of his brightest ideas…

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Monday, dreadful dreadful Monday. 

Like every day the two idiots are waiting for you outside of your dorm so that you can walk together to your respective classes, but before you can even reach them you can already hear them bickering and arguing over Seven knows what.

“Ok, this is getting tiring. What are you two babbling about that is getting you so worked up?” 

“I need to tell you something!”

“I need to tell you something!”

Again with the screaming over each other. “Well unfortunately I can’t hear both of you at the same time so you’ll have to decide who goes first. So?” That’s when they choose to remain silent and not say a word. You honestly have no idea how you’ve been able to hang out with these two without going mad. “Whatever, if you don’t want to talk then so be it, just deal with this thing on your own and make peace, we don’t want to get in trouble again, do we?”

They both nod their head in agreement and start walking to the school with you.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

They find themselves in their dorm room at the end of the day, trying to come to a decision without it becoming a brawl. Riddle is already weary of them after yesterday's shenanigans.

“I really want to go first! If you say it before me I won’t have the courage to say it ever again! You wouldn’t have these reservations and you know it!” Deuce whines.

“Ok, but what if the prefect hears you first and immediately agrees to go out? Then I won’t be able to get a date! I want to go first!”

“Fine! I don’t want you to say it first and you don’t want me to say it first. I get it. Then let’s come to an agreement, who can get the prefect alone first gets to ask first, that way it’s fate that gets to decide. Do you accept?” Ace at that grumbles a bit but ultimately shakes Deuce's hand and seals the deal. Tomorrow the game begins

You wake up, dress up, and meet the guys outside. The routine goes on without a hitch, whatever they did to deal with their problem worked because you don’t hear them argue all day. Granted it seems like they don’t want to leave your side either, nearly asking if they can come to the bathroom with you, but a win is a win and you learned to take what you can get. The only moment of reprise you get for the day is when the duo as to leave in the afternoon to go to their respective clubs, well not exactly, they did ask you if you would come with them to hang out a bit more but with how tiring the day has been you decline and tell them that you were going to relax a bit around the campus and to text you once they’re done if they still want to spend time with you.

You were in the library trying to learn about fae history when you hear hurried footsteps coming towards you. Most likely Ace since he told you that he got out of basketball practice early and asked if he could talk to you.

When you finally see him he’s sweating profusely and has a stink clinging to him.

“Did you seriously come here directly without at least taking a shower? You smell so bad, dude!”

He doesn’t seem to care about your statement and simply straightens up and looks at you with a solemn expression. 

“Dear prefect, there is a very important thing that I must make you aware of!”

“Dude calm down, you’re being really weird right now.” While you study him, trying to ascertain his well-being, all he does is blush.

“IhaveacrushonyouandIwouldliketogooutwithyou!”

“...what?” And now he looks even more embarrassed, the poor guy can’t catch a break. He speaks clearly and slowly now, trying to make sure to use the right words.

“I’ve liked you for a while now. You’re funny, strong, and proud. You’re a great person and an even better friend and I would be honored if you’d agree to go out on a date with me.”

He is looking right into your eyes, hoping to be able to discern your feelings after his confession.

“Oh, sure. That’d be nice” 

“What? That’s it? It’s that easy?”

“I mean, why shouldn’t it be? You like me, I like you, let’s go out. Simple really.”

“Sweet!” He smiles to himself and walks away, not saying another word. It’s only when he’s halfway to his room that what you just said sinks in.

“WAIT! THEY LIKE ME?!”

The botanical gardens have a charm to them, they are always a little warmer than the outside world, a little humid, and full of plants with colorful flowers and fun-shaped leaves. It’s a relaxing place to be in, no wonder Leona has a habit of sleeping here so often.

You were enjoying the beauty of a flower, one that resembles a chrysanthemum, tho not exactly.

Somebody clears their throat behind you and when you turn around you see Deuce standing a few feet away from you. He gives you a small smile and gestures for you to sit down on one of the benches with him. He takes your hands in his and looks briefly into your eyes just to then look back down at your intertwined hands.

“Listen, I have to tell you something and it’s very important”

“What did you do this time? I promise I won’t be mad,” He raises his head so fast with a panicked face.

“NO! You got it all wrong! I’m not in trouble! I’m in love with you! … I wasn’t supposed to say it like that…”

“Oh, well how were you supposed to say it then?” You tilt your head lightly trying to not make him more sad than he already is.

“I had this whole speech prepared. I wanted to say all these nice things…” And how can you not feel something pull at your heartstrings just by looking into those puppy dog eyes?

“Well, how about you tell me all about how much of an amazing person I am on our date? Saturday for lunch? At Mostro Lounge? Azul owes me a favor still so we might even be able to eat for free,” The look of pure unadulterated wonder in his eyes is enough to make you smile. Tho the scream he lets out does make you wince in pain a bit. Your ears are gonna need to be checked out.

[weirdbeancurd]

Ticklish Wolverine Headcanons! (sfw of course, but if you don't like, don't read)

i might do one with Wade later

Logan  Sensitivity: 9/10

Ironically cannot stand clawing or nibbling, poor dude will arch his back to the high heavens

Swats Wade's hand away when he tries to “give the kitty some chin scritches” because it tickles (and it’s embarrassing)

Common headcanon but he growls to keep the giggles at bay, it works for a whole 10 seconds and devolves into angry laughing

Folds like a lawn chair if a bad spot is suddenly attacked, has headbutt Wade before and got tickled twice as hard as a result

Absolutely pooped after being wrecked, will just lie there in a heap and maybe doze off, Wade uses it to help with his insomnia, Logan is secretly grateful (but will never admit it)

Wade told Laura about Logan’s “sensitivity” and she now uses it as a threat, old man being too grumpy? Poke him in the side as a warning. Logan’s smartass remarks getting on her nerves? Tase his ribs.

On some nights, he’ll barely fight back and just take it, becomes very flustered when it’s pointed out

Worst spots are underarms, stomach and hips, thrashes wildly when any of these spots are attacked, until he realizes he can't escape and just goes limp as a biscuit 

Sooo stubborn, will actually die before admitting that he doesn’t mind being tickled

Tickling is pretty much the only thing that can get him to beg and Wade loves it, I mean who wouldn’t want the bragging right of getting the mighty Wolverine to plead for mercy

All 5 of his senses are enhanced, touch included, it helps him track people by their footsteps…and makes him ridiculously ticklish

While rough tickles will still destroy him, light tickles fluster him much more, he’s just so unused to such a gentle touch and embarrassed a small graze makes him flinch out of his skin

Face burns red when teased (but don't mock him too much or he'll get actually angry), might try to hide facedown on the couch/floor/a pillow, Wade always makes it a game to see how fast he can make Logan turn over and expose his burning face

Usually this does the trick: digging into the muscles on either side of his spine (lower back) will get him to cackle and slam his palm on the bed/floor repeatedly, until he finally relents and flips to face Wade again (yes this is based on a bluebully fic lol)

Tries to bite fingers when his neck or ears are tickled, tends to end badly for him even if (especially if) Wade ends up losing a finger or two

Snorts, wheezes, shrieks, we got it all folks, but giggles are mostly caused by light tickles since he's just too sensitive, anything more intense and his laugh gets pretty wild

Sneaking up on him is real difficult, but if you manage to catch him off guard, his claws will pop out on instinct, Wade found this out the hard way, but still does it all the time because it’s funny

Probably needs to be pinned or he’ll break someone's nose with his flailing, (usually) not on purpose

[moronkombat]

im so thirsty. i need a yandere Havik headcanon, pretty please.

I decided to combine these because you just can't have Havik without yandere sorry

tw: yandere, afab pronouns, dubcon/noncon, somnophilia

Havik came across her by chance. He met her while working under Quan Chi and it took but just one look at her for Havik to decide she would be his

She a princess, a figure of order and authority. How beautiful it would be to crush her and mold her into an agent of destruction

Havik can hardly contain his excitement, tongue licking his lips in wanting but he must wait

There are no words shared between them but his obsession with the beautiful princess grows and festers

Oh so pretty you are in that dress, so regal with that crown...how wonderful it will be to break it after destroying her

A princess of Outworld reduced to chaos and anarchy by his hand? That would make for a beautiful song yet he must keep waiting

Though the wait is killing him and he wants a taste of this precious princess, Havik just cannot help himself

He slips something vile into her drink at dinner and lurks in the shadows as it begins to take hold of her

The poor princess is feeling oh so ill and must be brought back to her room and Havik begins his pursuit

Posing as a guard he is able to sneak into the princess' room where she lie fast asleep

Of course she would be. Havik wouldn't have used that poison if he wanted her awake right now. That would be his preference but it this will do for now

Crawling atop her, she a snake and she a subdued mouse. His mouth waters as his eyes drink up her helpless state

Hands grope and fondle her beautiful breasts and thighs and soon he is hard and wanting

Her thin nightgown is hiked up and soon his tongue is plunged into hot and sticky depths

The taste of her so sweet and pure, he laps it all up again and again while she makes cute little whimpering noises in her sleep

Such pretty sounds, such music to his ears. What would she sound like screaming? He can hardly wait to find out

Havik practically cackles as he fishes his hard and ready length form his pants and spreads her legs further apart

Oh? It seems he fits so perfectly between them, how is this not meant to be?

There's a tight resistance for a moment and Havik feels such a rush knowing this little princess an untouched flower

He is quick to change that, engulfed by a tightness oh so good he could finish right there but he doesn't

Havik is panting and grunting over her as he violates her without her even knowing a thing

She's so warm and grips him so nicely, this little princess is so perfect. So perfect just for him

A wild animal takes over him, his thrusts brutal and feral. He whispers to her "I love you, I love you, little princess. You love me too, right? Yeah, you love me alright"

His cock throbs so painfully, he needs to finish but where oh where? His tongue runs along the shell of her hear "You wanna have my baby, don't you? A princess having a slave's baby? Heh, yeah that'd be pretty great"

Havik fills her womb to the absolute brim, staying inside her as to not let a drop spill

He'd clean her up, making it seem as if nothing happened and then slip away into the night

The days carry on per usual and Quan Chi and Shang Tsung's plan it just about to bloom

Soon Havik will take her again, this time with her awake and alert and he will bring her to his wonderful ruined home where he will keep her as his beautiful little princess pet

There's been whispers that the princess has been feeling...rather ill throughout the day and Havik cannot help but wonder if his seed has taken root already

[immediatebreakfast]

By her side stood a tall, thin man, clad in black. His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw we all recognised the Count—in every way, even to the scar on his forehead. With his left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, keeping them away with her arms at full tension; his right hand gripped her by the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. which threw his victim back upon the bed as though hurled from a height, he turned and sprang at us Van Helsing, Art, and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her breath and with it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying day.  Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands, which bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's terrible grip

Is this supposed to be the "timeless forbidden love story" that so many adaptations brag about? Is this treatment supposed to be "subversion of the expected" prude victorian love that directors pat themselves on the back for "fixing"? Is this the I have crosses seas to find you or whatever bullshit?

Mina being treated like a thing? Having her arms be almost broken for trying to fight the horrible man who killed the only girl she loved, almost killed her husband, and traumatized her in a scene akin to sexually assaulting her in the middle of the night?

He had been there, and though it could only have been for a few seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the manuscript had been burned, and the blue flames were flickering amongst the white ashes; the cylinders of your phonograph too were thrown on the fire, and the wax had helped the flames.

Is this love? Mina hearing how her hard work, her manuscript she did with her own hands, is now ashes? Having to repeat the traumatic event in front of everyone while repeating how Dracula threatened her with bashing Jonathan's brain in front of her eyes, plunging herself into more shame, then having a religious crisis after Mina is branded with the proof that god itself abandoned her because of the Count's attack?

And so you, like the others, would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and frustrate me in my designs! my bountiful wine-press for a while; and shall be later on my companion and my helper.

Mina got called a fucking WINE PRESS for everything that is sacred! On top of being told that her future is being reduced to a companion, to a helper. A shadow with no self autonomy who will roam earth in a hellish existance attatched to a man who doesn't even see her as a human, but an object to be won. The Count hates Mina for her wits, he hates that a woman bested him in a play where she had the upper hand, yet he desires her enough to punish her by erasing everything that makes Mina Harker the woman she is.

Is this what Mina deserves? Is this the forbidden love? Does Mina deserves to be shreded, punished, and reduced to a winning object when she is at the lowest in this book? For what, to symphatize with a conqueror who thinks that it's his right to destroy all of the lives he comes across for his own sick entertaiment?

Where is the soft love that Jonathan expresses for Mina, where is the devotion given to her as she prays to god for an answer.

Oh my God! my God! what have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril; and in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!"

Why should Mina suffer because clueless non readers romanticize the trauma that she went through to the point that Mina became suicidal in a single night.

"You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely. "I would; if there were no friend who loved me, who would save me such a pain, and so desperate an effort!"

If Mina didn't have Jonathan, didn't have Van Helsing and the others, she would have died from pure distress and shame. How horrible is to see Mina push through what happened without truly taking time to see how she is truly blameless in here, and that she should not beg god for forgiveness when that acursed presence left her unprotected to an ancient evil.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Intent

@jegulus-microfic August 24, Word count 920

Previous part First Wolfstar part

Regulus flew into James’s arms when they met again. 

“We got it!” He whispered excitedly after they'd slipped out of the Manor, unseen. 

“Well done, love. Let’s get out of here,” James nodded to the others and they all disapparated. 

They hadn’t gone back to their camp. The plan was to go somewhere else first and destroy the Horcrux. They were somewhere in the Brecon Beacons. The wind howled around the wild mountain range. Their robes whipped around their legs and threatened to be torn off completely. 

“We need somewhere more covered!” Sirius called out, his voice stolen by the wind. 

“Come with me!” Remus yelled, holding out his hands to them. They all grabbed on. Regulus felt the familiar squeezing sensation as Remus apparated them again. 

The wind stopped, and they were inside a wooden shed. 

“Where are we?” Marcus asked, picking up a dusty watering can. 

“My da’s old potting shed.” Remus shrugged. “It’s out of the wind at least. Regulus moved to the sturdy-looking bench and moved aside the collection of spider web-coated seed trays and mini-plant pots before taking the notebook out of his pocket. 

For the first time, he looked at it properly. It was definitely muggle in origin. It had a date printed on the front, 1943. So it was a diary, he thought. He opened it hoping to find some hidden secrets. It was blank. The only writing was the slightly smudged name on the first page. T. M. Riddle. Well, at least they had the right item. 

“Damn, that thing smells awful,” Marcus complained, holding his nostrils closed with his thumb and forefinger. Regulus ignored him and put the diary on the workbench. He took the box containing the basilisk fang out as well and carefully extracted it. 

He held it up gingerly to his brother. 

“Do you want to do the honours? You were the one to get it after all,” 

“Narcissa literally threw it at me. I wouldn’t exactly say I got it,” Sirius barked out a laugh, but carefully took the fang. He held it above the diary. He was about to plunge it into the diary when a shimmering form began to break free of the pages. 

“Quick, just do it!” Regulus urged Sirius on. “Before whatever that is can fully form. Sirius stabbed down with intent. He stabbed the fang so hard it went straight through the diary and stuck in the wood beneath. 

A loud scream escaped from within the pages as waves of ink flooded out of the diary, coating Sirius from his arms down and covering the dusty floor. Then everything was still and the destroyed Horcrux lay there, just a diary again, albeit a diary with a large steaming hole through the middle of it. 

It took Sirius a second to wrench the fang from the wood, but once he had, he returned it to its box and handed it back to Regulus. 

“Shit, Moony, the fangs burnt through the potting table. How pissed is your dad going to be when he sees it?” Sirius grimaced after he’d vanished all the spilt ink from himself and the shed. 

“Not much,” Remus replied sadly. “He doesn’t use it any more, not since Mum died,” Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus and whispered what sounded like sweet words in his ear, but Regulus couldn’t make them out. 

“Okay, let’s go home,” Sirius said as he pulled away from Remus, but didn’t let go of his hand. James grabbed Regulus’s hand and Marcus rolled his eyes. 

“Because you can’t apparate without holding hands. Bleh!” He fake gagged and dissapparated. 

“Poor Marcus, he needs to get laid,” Sirius snickered, before bringing Remus’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles and apparating away. 

“Just us, love,” James said, crowding Regulus against the neglected shed’s wall. Regulus surged forward and attached himself to James’s face. It was over. They’d found and destroyed another Horcrux.

“Can we go back to Potter Manor?” He asked, between gasping breaths. James groaned into his mouth. 

“Oi! Who’s in there?!” A voice shouted from outside the shed. 

“Shit, Lyall!” James cursed. He wrapped his arms around Regulus more securely and apparated them to Potter Manor. He pulled out his mirror and called into it. “Hey, Padfoot,” James waited for a moment, and then Sirius’s voice came through. 

“Why are you calling me on the mirror? Where have you gone? Have you gone back to Potter Manor?!”

“Er, yeah, change of plans. We need to check the library again. See you in the morning, yeah. Oh, and can you tell Remus that Lyall came out and yelled at us? He didn’t see who was in the shed, but he might have gone in by now. Love ya,” He blew a huge kiss at the mirror and snapped it shut.

“He’s going to kill you for that, you know,” Regulus couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face. 

“Nah, he loves me too much. He might take a page out of your book though and hex my bollocks off the next time he sees me,” He grimaced. 

“I’d like to see him try,” Regulus narrowed his eyes dangerously. James chuckled, and they walked into Potter Manor, greeted by an irate Flitsy, who had not been expecting them and had nothing ready. It took James a good twenty minutes to calm her down and promise that it wasn't a problem. Regulus headed upstairs. He needed a shower after everything they’d been through the last few hours. 

Next part

[thr0wnawayy]

Hime and Ikkaku: The Shaken (Side Story)

4 months after the broadcast

Hime and Ikkaku were distant cousins, both in the familial and literal sense, in the aftermath of the Liberation War, all they had was eachother.

Hime's parents had perished during what was known as "The Blackout Period", Where heroes quit in droves despite the majority of casualties being civilian and the streets lay in ruin for months.

Hime barely managed to survive between the various CRC factions running wild and killing the "impure" to public protests being eviscerated by unseen assailants, life wasn't hell for Hime.

It was war.

As an islander Ikkau had avoided most of the calamity, until that fateful evening when dark swirling portals opened above his island home.

The villains destroyed everything in their brainwashed haze, not caring for casualties or themselves.

Ikkaku still remembers how one of the villains lost an arm and still kept going, as if he'd die if he stopped.

Only when the adrenaline wore off did the poor man's screams echo across eternity.

Everything Ikkaku knew had been destroyed in a matter of minutes, they left everything behind for the mainland.

The two met outside a government building in Osaka.

Ikkaku's parents were trying to get residency (they'd been "negotiating" for hours with the commission agent) and that was boring so Ikkaku stayed on the stone steps outside.

That's when Hime showed up. Far too rugged for a girl her age. Her hair was a tangled grimy mess, her purple gown torn and scuffed with the color fading in some places, matching her graying hair and dulled eyes.

She noticed Ikkau, the boy that was far too unenergetic for someone so young. Desperation had hardened her, but still somewhere deep down, she felt for the boy.

So she stepped forth. In the way a part of her, the stupidest goddamned part of her, wished others had for her.

The two noticed eachother and slowly began to make conversation.

They spoke of old memories and clear blue skies.

Of the dark, warm nights where the cool breeze blowing in your face almost made you think you could fly, perhaps to somewhere better than here.

Eventually Ikkaku's parents had settled their spat and found their son chatting, with another child no less. After months spent witnessing their son lose his spark, seeing him be so carefree was a welcome sight.

It was then that Ikkaku's father made a joke.

"You know honey, if I didn't know any better I'd think she was your clone."

There was a moment where time seemed to freeze. His mother locked eyes with Hime's, her mouth opened but no words came forth.

There was a pause as Hime stared, her eyes growing wide with emotion, tears threatening to spill out.

"M-momma?" her voice cracked. She all but plowed into Ikkaku's Mom's legs, her small frame shook with heavy sobs.

With the exception of his mom reaching down to console Hime, no one moved for a long time.

By the time the four of them got to the hotel it was time for dinner.

But Ikkaku had something else in mind, he waited for his parents to go to their usual meeting spot when they didn't want him hearing something, the bathroom.

Ikkaku could make out a few words of his parents conversation as he pressed an ear to the bathroom door.

"-My sister -" "-Never close-" "-lost contact-"

"-take her in?-"

"-We won't leave her, she's family."

His mother seemed to be reassured by that, a relived sigh could be heard.

Ikkaku ran back to the den portion of the hotel, Where Hime was finishing up eating her cheeseburger. Her ratty hair masked her eyes and Ikkau noted for the first time, just how tired she looked.

Ikkaku carefully brushed the hair out of her eyes, she looked up to him as he gave her his most determined grin.

"You won't have to worry any longer, we've got your back and if anyone tries something I'll poke em with my horn!." Ikkaku vowed, his head held as high with confidence.

Although Hime didn't smile, she nodded, offering the spot next to her. Right now that was all Ikkaku could ask for, he'd be there for her no matter what.

By the time his parents had finished their conversation, the two children had longed since dozed off, huddled together like pigs in a blanket.

The two adults smiled and tiptoed out of the room, assured that no matter what, even as the nation quietly fell apart.

They would always have eachother.

[gwen-ever]

Chapter 2: Axe or Sword

Hello, my beloved hobbits! 💖 Another chapter is here, and oh boy, this one is something. But before you dive in, let’s stir the pot a little, shall we? 😏 What do you all think happened between Thorin and Geira in the past? I swear, Thorin is the king of emotional constipation, but Geira? She’s not exactly innocent here either! 😘 So, are we getting a heated argument, a moment of soft vulnerability, or both? Who knows, maybe something entirely unexpected will happen… 😏 Let me know your thoughts—I live for your wild guesses and theories! Now, go on, enjoy the chapter! 💕

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived… whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin’s past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins’ house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil.

Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC Rating: M Warnings: none. AO3 LINK: HERE

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Sunlight filtered through the treetops, forcing Geira to close her eyes. The day had turned out warmer than expected, and despite it being early spring, her shirt clung to her back with every step of Rosalie, her pony.

“You’re not too warm, are you, under all that fur?” Geira asked, stroking the pony’s grey mane with her fingertips.

In response, Rosalie let out a soft whinny and twitched her ears, signalling that the summer heat was Geira’s problem, not hers.

Rosalie was a very calm pony, her temperament so steady that for a moment, Geira could almost forget the heavy atmosphere still hanging over the Company. The pony’s serene nature helped keep her from glancing too often towards the head of the column.

From the rear, she could see every dwarf in the Company.

Occasionally, Balin would pull out a piece of parchment from his bag, examining it through his small golden monocle. 

Just as the years had passed for Geira, they had passed for everyone else. 

The only difference was that they had someone to remember them.

“My hobbit back isn’t exactly suited to long rides, and neither are my poor legs!”

Bilbo’s voice rose above the birdsong around them, snapping Geira out of her foolish, childish thoughts.

She cast a glance at the two horses trailing behind Gloin at the column’s forefront, her eyes landing on the hobbit, who was pressing one of his hands against his lower back.

“Oh, dear Bilbo, you have a long journey ahead of you. Make yourself comfortable and enjoy the wide horizon!” Gandalf sang, gesturing ahead with his staff.

“The very thought of standing is agony for my shoulders,” Bilbo shot back, craning his neck backwards. “I should have brought a cushion!”

“You’re right, Master Bilbo,” Dori agreed from directly behind him. “This saddle’s harder than the marble floors of the Emeralds’s Marketplace in Nogrod,” he grumbled, trying to shift into a better position.

“With this heat, brother, I’d much prefer a frosty golden ale from old Olaf’s tavern. Maybe two, if that thick-skulled dwarf would take copper coins for once!” Nori dreamily replied, leaning his neck back against the horse.

“ Kann barathgalt i’zuhu! ”

Bombur nodded, glancing over at his cousin seated just in front of him. “You’re right, cousin, that wouldn’t be half bad right about now!”

Despite the small talk, which briefly distracted her, Geira noticed Bilbo shifting and moving restlessly, still ignoring Gandalf’s advice. She barely managed to stifle a sour smile when she heard his neck crack yet again. And just as on the nights before, she felt a hidden side of herself ignite—one she hadn’t allowed to surface for years.

“Straighten up your back, Bilbo!” she called from the rear of the line, catching not only his attention but also that of several dwarves, shocked to hear her speak.

“W-what?” Bilbo asked, craning his neck to peer through three rows of dwarves to find her.

“Your back—keep it straight,” she repeated, tilting her head to the right so she could look him in the eye. “Otherwise, by the end of the day, you’ll feel like a pack mule if you keep hunching forward!”

Bilbo said nothing, merely furrowing his blonde brows as he turned around. Suddenly, he straightened his back, tilted his neck, and extended both arms forward in the most awkward posture imaginable.

Geira gave Rosalie a gentle nudge with her heels, urging the pony to pick up her trot. Quickening her pace, she wove past the dwarves until she reached Bilbo’s side.

“Like this—see?” she asked, keeping pace with him and demonstrating the correct posture by gesturing with her chin towards the alignment of her back. “Head and neck upright, arms in front of you,” she explained with a smile, ensuring her upper body was as straight as possible for him to mimic.

Bilbo gave her a confused look. “Well...” he began, examining his arms and locking his elbows slightly. Then, he straightened his back, lifting his chin high enough to see the sky but still low enough to look at the ground if needed.

“Like this?” he asked, holding the position.

She nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

“Well, it’s not comfortable at all!”

“It’s not comfortable now,” she explained. “But you’ll thank me later, Master Baggins, when your bones aren’t cracking like broken branches.”

She swore she saw a faint blush form beneath his golden sideburns on his beardless cheeks. “Oh, well, I... thank you...” he stammered, embarrassed, but he maintained his posture.

She smiled again before turning her gaze back to the green hills just beginning to emerge beyond the dense oak grove that surrounded them.

“How much have you travelled? If I may ask?” Bilbo suddenly asked, his tone visibly curious.

The question made her lips part slightly.

How much had she travelled?

How long had she been making the same simple motions without even realising it? How many ponies  that didn’t belong to her had she ridden? How long had she been wandering, not at the orders of a king, but simply because she couldn’t stay still? Too long.

The impulse to retreat to the rear of the line struck her again, as did the urge to leave Bilbo’s question unanswered. But she found a shred of strength when she saw the hope in the hobbit’s eyes.

“Enough to know how not to exhaust yourself after a day’s ride,” she answered quickly, unwilling to elaborate.

“With men, I suppose? I can smell them on you since last night,” growled Dwalin’s voice from behind, sending a chill down her spine and up, all the way to the tips of her hair.

She bit her tongue to keep from snapping back.

Turning her head slightly, she met the stern, shadowed face of the warrior dwarf. His dark brows were furrowed, a scar arching downward through one of them. His thick black beard barely hid his scowling mouth.

As the night before, she couldn’t help but want to rip that grimace off his face with her bare hands.

“Most of them, yes—men. They pay well,” she replied, shooting him a sharp look before turning forward again.

“They paid for that fine bow, I suppose, and that coat of yours as well,” Dwalin continued sarcastically, making her grip the pony’s reins tighter in her hands.

“They pay me well, Master Dwalin. Well enough to survive without asking too many questions about me,” she retorted, keeping her voice calm as her gaze drifted to the bow hanging at the pony’s side. Its pale wood made it clear it hadn’t been crafted by her kin.

And how could it have been? She hadn’t spoken to a dwarf in nearly a century and a half, and Dwalin knew it—he knew it all too well.

“Because if they asked, they’d know you’d turn your back on them the moment you got a better offer. That’s why you don’t want them knowing who you are?” he spat angrily. The dwarf quickened his trot to come alongside her. “Maybe it’s because they’d find out why a dwarf warrior roams the Wild Lands alone?” he taunted.

“When they start asking questions, I move to another settlement,” she replied quickly. “I trade my weapons for a roof over my head. Isn’t that what you do? The last time I saw you, you were escorting their caravans from east to west. I just get paid to fight for them,” she reminded him, throwing him a sharp glance.

“That’s not the same thing,” Dwalin growled.

“Oh, it’s not? So that coat wasn’t paid for with their gold, was it? Or those boots? And you didn’t pay the smith with their silver coins, did you?” she shot back, turning her head fully towards Dwalin.

Dwalin’s brows furrowed deeply, his eyes blazing with pure fury. Before she realised it, he surged forward and tugged on her pony’s reins, forcing her to stop and nearly crashing into him.

Bilbo flinched slightly beside her as Dwalin stopped them both in their tracks, glaring at her as if she were an orc with a mouthful of blood.

“We do it to help our people—you do it for yourself!” he spat in disgust. “You’ve always done everything for yourself! You’ve never cared about your people! You’ve no right to speak of us!” he shouted at her, his rage boiling over.

Each word struck through the iron armour Geira had built around her chest, around those memories.

She could feel her blood boiling in her veins and her hands tingling with the temptation to grab her sword and hold it to the dwarf’s neck, forcing him to take back every word.

He knew nothing. Nothing!

“Don’t you dare, Dwalin, speak of my life as though you know it, as though you’ve ever known it!” she hissed.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. The birds had stopped singing, and the warmth around her had been replaced by an icy chill. No one in the Company dared speak or even breathe.

Dwalin clenched his jaw, leaning in closer to her. “What I do know is that you’re a traitor, filth who can’t make amends even with her hair shorn short. You—filthy—”

“Did I ever tell ya I used to own a goat named Rind?”

Bofur’s voice broke through the ranks, interrupting Dwalin’s words. “She was all white with a black mark shaped like a crescent moon over her left eye,” he continued from the back of the line, chuckling softly.

Geira didn’t turn, but she heard the birdsong resume, the warmth return, and a series of grunts rising from the rear of the column.

It was as if the entire world had started breathing again, yet she still felt the world behind her burning.

She continued locking eyes with Dwalin, and in his green eyes, she saw unspoken words hanging heavy.

Can you ever make amends for what you’ve done to him?

And what did he do to me?

She wanted to answer him, but Bofur had decided this was a conversation that shouldn’t take place—and perhaps, for now, it was better that way.

The ponies resumed their trot, leaving only her and Dwalin in the middle of the path. Several seconds passed before Dwalin, with an irritated glance, tugged his horse around and rode ahead, leaving her behind.

When his gaze left hers, she exhaled a heavy sigh, trying to ignore the confused and worried look Bilbo cast her way as he passed.

“…She used to sleep under me bed, y’know. Did I ever tell ya about the time I came home and found half of me furniture covered in her slobber?” Bofur’s cheerful voice reached her ears again, along with the inevitable groans that followed.

“Oh, in Durin’s name, Bofur, not again...” Nori muttered.

“So one day I went to the workshop, like I do every day, and I bought some cheese and milk for the next day...”

Geira didn’t hear the rest of the story as she stood motionless, letting the entire caravan of dwarves pass by.

It wasn’t until Fili and Kili passed her that she raised her gaze again, and her breath caught in her throat.

Thorin remained as still as she was in the middle of the path, letting the rest of the Company move on while he stayed behind, watching her with an unreadable expression. 

They both stood in silence, neither of them speaking, as though Thorin’s silence was shouting at her.

And yet, it was only at that moment, hidden from the eyes of all, that she finally took a proper look at him and noticed how much he had... aged.

Thorin’s black hair had lightened, streaked with silver strands. His once-soft profile had sharpened like a blade, a myriad of fine wrinkles adding to his regal bearing in a way that hadn’t been there 120 years ago.

Yet all she felt looking at him was unease and anger—too much anger.

Only when he turned and resumed riding, his back to her, did Geira force herself to remember why she was there. All she needed to do in this place was complete her mission.

She just had to not even look him in the face.

Geira dropped her sword and stretched, raising her arms and glancing around the rocky outcrop where they had found shelter for the night. The site was surrounded by small hills covered in fir trees and evergreens.

The iron pot was already over the fire, and the typical pile of blankets and backpacks lay scattered nearby. In a few hours, they would be claimed by the luckiest among them, those who had managed to dismount their ponies and toss their belongings to the ground before the others.

The two brothers, Bombur and Bofur, were hunched over the copper pot from which a mouth-watering aroma emanated, instantly awakening her appetite; she hadn't eaten a thing since that morning.

She glanced around, searching for Gandalf, who was sitting by the fire, puffing on his pipe and listening to Dori. Dori, the eldest of Nori and Ori's brothers, was chatting idly, mostly complaining about Nori's inefficiency. Gloin and Oin were busy cleaning themselves up, while Fili and Kili were already chuckling quietly.

The only one excluded from that joy seemed to be her.

Her argument with Dwalin that morning appeared to have left no impression on anyone—and why should it? It was Dwalin’s problem, and more precisely, her problem. She certainly didn’t expect anyone to say a word; they hadn’t even looked her in the face, and she definitely wasn’t going to start a conversation.

Grumbling at the slight soreness in her thighs caused by hours of riding, she tried to follow the others' example. She knelt on the ground and pulled out her bedroll from her bag, unfurling it  in front of her with a single motion.

"Pick a spot to sleep; Nori, gather the ponies while Bombur finishes cooking," Thorin ordered as he strode through the small campsite, his satchel slung over one shoulder and his sword firmly gripped in hand.

Nori nodded in approval before getting to his feet, brushing his hands against his jacket, ready to carry out his leader's command without question.

She caught Thorin in the corner of her eye as he arranged his things on the opposite side of the campfire from her. She knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

"Master Baggins, mind you don’t lean too far over," Thorin called sharply, addressing an unseen point behind her.

It was only then that she noticed Bilbo standing at the cliff’s edge, hands clasped behind his back, gazing downward. At the sound of Thorin’s voice, the hobbit’s pointed ears seemed to perk up, and with two slow steps, he moved away from the precipice, nodding at the dwarf as he did.

Oin was standing next to him, peering over the cliff with his ear trumpet in hand. "It’s quite the drop, my boy—are you sure you fancy tumbling off this cliff?" he asked dryly.

Bilbo began shaking his head, raising a finger to object, but before he could respond, Nori approached, leading two ponies by their reins.

"We could always send Bombur to fetch him," Nori said with a chuckle.

"And then who’ll fetch Bombur?" Gloin retorted, sparking a round of laughter in which even Bombur himself joined.

Bilbo remained silent, staring into the void, his small hands restlessly fidgeting.

She pushed herself off the ground and approached Bilbo, who still had his back to her. Passing the blazing fire, she ignored Dwalin's gaze as he rose from his bedroll to tend to the pot brimming with food.

"How’s your back?" she asked Bilbo, folding her arms across her chest.

The hobbit startled slightly, stammering nervously. "Ehmm, it’s—fine, really. I thought it would be much worse."

She nodded, moving to stand beside him near the ledge. "I told you, even the leg pain will ease over time," she said, referring to her own aches, which continued to cause mild spasms in her thighs.

Bilbo glanced around briefly before leaning closer, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Sleeping like this won’t help the pain at all," he said.

"Not at all, but it’s something you get used to," she replied with unvarnished honesty.

Just like the night before and the morning of that same day, she felt as light as a flower petal and as vulnerable as a child.

She knew what was going through his mind and envied Bilbo—deeply and shamefully, but she envied him.

That fear, that yearning to leap into the unknown and never look back.

It had been her dream, always her dream since she was young: to be free, to wander through the forests and valleys of Middle-earth, to gaze at the stars in the night while lying on the grass, to watch the snow falling and glistening in the twilight, and to feel the wind tousling her hair as she twirled her sword in the air. That had been her dream, until loyalty had triumphed over her desires and selfishness, until that same loyalty had taken everything away from her and condemned her to solitude.

Until her oaths, her devotion to what she loved and deemed right, had left her living as an outcast, accepting everything she once desired—but alone.

"It's so beautiful…" Bilbo exclaimed after a long pause, snapping her out of her dark and sorrowful thoughts. "But it's a beauty that fills me with a fear I've never felt before," he admitted, stammering with embarrassment while continuing to gaze at the horizon.

Geira nodded and looked at the mountain ridges, observing how they overlapped to form a small wall that blended with the wisps of clouds above them, tinged pink and lilac by the sunset's end. The evening breeze caressed her face, brushing strands of brown hair behind her ear and under the red shirt she was wearing.

She closed her eyes, savouring this brief moment of peace she hadn’t granted herself in ages.

"My aunt always used to say that the fear of the unknown is simply your body asking you to explore it," she murmured under her breath.

Bilbo drew a small breath, letting out a soft chuckle. "Your aunt sounds fascinating."

"She was… fascinating, I suppose you could say," she replied absentmindedly, unable to hide a thread of melancholy in her voice.

Bilbo’s green eyes widened slightly, and his mouth turned downwards at this realisation.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t…"

"Don’t be," she interrupted. "She left this world on her own terms, just as she always wanted. She gave her life for someone she cared deeply about."

"Your uncle?" he asked, curious.

Geira lowered her gaze slightly and glanced over her shoulder at the sword resting a short distance away from her, following its rigid lines, the black and golden engravings along the blade.

"Something like that, Master Hobbit," she replied curtly.

Before Bilbo could respond, two bowls entered their line of sight, interrupting their conversation: Bofur stood beside them, holding out the two dishes with an excited flourish and a huge grin peeking out from under his comical black moustache.

"And these last ones are for you two!" he exclaimed, extending his arms wider towards them.

Geira took the wooden bowl filled with hot stew and thanked him with a slight nod, to which the dwarf responded with a small tip of his hat before turning to Bilbo, who had taken the bowl in his hands, turning it around in his palms.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked, gesturing to the stew.

"Venison stew with carrots and celery, the finest stew east of Eriador!" Bofur proclaimed confidently, planting his fists on his hips. "Go on, have a taste," he urged, gesturing at Bilbo’s bowl and spoon before shifting his gaze to her. "Ya too! Don’t be shy!"

She couldn’t help but hide her surprise at the gesture, flinching slightly and looking at the dwarf with a touch of confusion. But he was undeterred, repeatedly glancing from the bowl to her.

"Come on, I want to know what ya think!"

She smiled and grasped the spoon in her fingers, scooping a piece of stew and bringing it to her mouth. As soon as it touched her palate, it melted instantly and slid down her throat without needing to chew.

Oh yes, it was probably the finest stew she’d ever tasted in all of Eriador.

She might have let out a small moan, quickly stifled with her hand, but the dwarf noticed and laughed softly.

"Told ya," Bofur said cheerfully. "It would’ve been divine with potatoes and dark ale!"

Geira took another bite, savouring the warm meal, satisfying her stomach’s demands and her palate. 

Yes, Bofur was right—if she had a good mug of ale, this stew would have been worthy of a royal banquet.

She could even picture it if she squinted: the coloured fabrics adorning the ceiling, the bonfire in the centre of the hall, the shouts, the music, the dances—all things she hadn’t seen or experienced in a long time.

Suddenly, a low growl distracted Bofur, who gestured towards the blazing fire and Bombur, who, with his plate still full, was heading back to the pot..

"In Durin’s name!" Bofur muttered under his breath before spinning on his heel and marching towards the fire. "Bombur, stop that! That’s for everyone, you daft lump!" he scolded, throwing his arms in the air.

Bilbo chuckled quietly beside her before resuming his meal, tearing his gaze away from the now starry horizon.

She, however, stayed and watched the scene unfold before her: Bombur darted back and forth, trying to dodge his brother’s grasp while attempting to dip his spoon into the pot. Meanwhile, Bofur, amidst a chorus of background laughter and genuine shouts betting on one of the two, chased him around the fire. What had just happened was strange—very strange—but she had to admit, it was pleasant. She never would have expected such a gesture under the eyes of everyone from a dwarf she barely knew. Twice in one day, Bofur had shown her the bare minimum of kindness due to any living being. And yet, she marvelled, as if a dwarf talking to her was a rare or even impossible event—although it was rare and impossible.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Bilbo's voice drew her attention.

Geira turned to look at him, noticing how he was gazing at her with a friendly, faint smile on his bearded lips.

Confused, she tilted her head slightly. "For what? There’s nothing you need to thank me for," she said.

The hobbit shook his head, raising a hand to stop her. "I thank you, Geira, daughter of Geiri, for helping me," he whispered.

Geira shivered slightly, doing her best to conceal what a simple thank you had stirred within her. She offered him a sweet smile, lowering her head to hide how much it was widening.

Perhaps kindness towards her was no longer such a rare and impossible occurrence.

Soon enough, more or less everyone had devoured every single morsel of stew from the pot. The echoes of laughter and the background chatter had faded completely, leaving only the howling wind through the trees and the faint crackle of the fire, interspersed with the light snores of the dwarves huddled around it.

The light chill in the air had intensified and sharpened, enough to make Geira curl up against the rocky wall and wrap the cloak she had loathed that morning tightly around her shoulders.

In Durin’s name, she absolutely needed a smoke! Perhaps it would clear her head enough to let her sleep, at least for a couple of hours.

She sat up, pulling the fur blanket along with her, and began rummaging through the bag next to her. She pulled out her pouch of tobacco and the pipe within it. Squinting, she leaned her back against the rock, feeling her leg muscles begging for mercy.

She opened the pouch, inspecting the finely shredded orange and brown leaves. She then searched her pack again, muttering in frustration. Damn!

She opened it wide but found nothing at all: her pipe cleaner was missing. She had used it the last time she smoked… on Bilbo’s bench.

She brought both hands to her face, shaking her head. Things were going from bad to worse. Her flint and steel were miles away, probably never to be seen again, and now she was stuck with a clogged pipe and stale tobacco from the entire journey.

She turned the pipe over in her hands before glancing toward Fili and Kili, who, thank Mahal, were still awake. Kili, in particular, was cleaning his pipe with a pipe cleaner—so they had one.

Even though the idea of talking to either of them was far from appealing, she had to ask for the favour. Her sanity depended on it.

"Kili?" she called softly, leaning toward the fire.

The young dwarf stopped cleaning his pipe and looked at her, tilting his head to the side, waiting for her to continue.

"Could you lend me your pipe cleaner, please? I… I don’t have one, unfortunately," she asked, holding up her pipe to show him.

Kili looked at the pipe, then at his brother seated beside him, giving him a small nudge on the shoulder to grab his attention, making the gold embroidery of his blue shirt catch the firelight. "My pipe cleaner, you say?" he asked, dangling the small wooden object teasingly in front of her face.

Children.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded. "Yes, your pipe cleaner, Prince Kili."

Kili’s grin widened even more, and with a swift movement, he closed his hand around the pipe cleaner and hid it behind his back in mockery, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on her.

"Only if you come here and smoke with us!"

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes—after all, she had asked for it.

"Kili…" she muttered, sighing.

"Forget it then!" he cut her off, slowly raising himself to his feet and hiding the cleaner even further behind his back.

Reluctantly, she sighed heavily, placing the pipe stem in her mouth. Using both hands for support, she moved closer to the fire, taking a seat not far from Fili, who was watching her with satisfaction. Picking up her pipe again, she extended her other hand toward Kili, who still had the cleaner tucked behind him.

"May I borrow your pipe cleaner, Kili?" she asked, observing how the younger prince’s bright eyes lit up slightly.

He smiled at her and handed over the small wooden tool, but suddenly jerked it back at the last moment, making her flinch and start to lose her patience.

Now she was certain—they were the princess’s children. That insistent, mischievous character could only be inherited from her.

"How old are you?" Kili asked slyly, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned toward her.

"You talk too much for my liking, young prince," she replied sharply.

"I’m curious as well, to be honest," Fili chimed in, exhaling a puff of white smoke from his pipe into the air as he watched her from above. "I’d like to know how old you are."

This was becoming blackmail, and she’d had enough of Durin’s sons mocking and teasing her all day. She was too tired—too tired even to be angry, or to stand up and snatch the cleaner from Kili’s hands.

"I don’t want to smoke anymore," she declared, raising both hands in surrender, preparing to return to her resting place.

"Oh, come on," Kili interrupted, raising his voice slightly and earning a glare from Fili. "Just answer the question, and I’ll give it to you!"

"I don’t want to answer that question."

"And why not?" Fili asked this time, ignoring her refusal. He gripped his pipe tightly between his fingers. "Either you’re really old, or you’re really young and you’ve tricked us. Is your age such a big secret?"

That simple sentence silenced her and made her heart pound, confronting her with the truth: was she truly afraid of them knowing?

They weren’t fools. They had seen the engraving on her sword, and perhaps now all they needed was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm their suspicions. Then they, too, would view her as others had—a traitor, without knowing her side of the truth.

Fili remained silent for a long time, studying her face, illuminated by the interplay of orange light and shadow created by the fire. "How old are you?" he finally asked bluntly, removing the pipe from his mouth.

"One hundred and ninety-one," she replied just as swiftly, turning toward him and locking eyes with the piercing blue gaze so typical of his lineage, awaiting his reaction.

She waited in silence, bracing herself for judgment, a word, or even a glance toward her sword, still resting nearby against the rocky wall. But nothing came.

Fili and Kili exchanged sidelong glances, speaking to each other in a way she couldn’t hear. After a few looks and subtle nods, the dark-haired dwarf finally unclasped his hands.

"Seems fair to me!" Kili exclaimed, tossing the cleaner into her hand with a cheeky grin.

Geira took it with resignation and sighed, finally beginning to clean her pipe while leaning her back against the rough but warm stone of the small bay.

Suddenly, a sharp cry echoed through the darkness of the night, sending chills racing down her spine and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Geira clenched her hands and quickly sat up straight, scanning the dark landscape before her and the thin veil of mist settling over the mountains.

"What was that?"

It was only when she heard Bilbo's voice that her focus shifted from the shadowy horizon to the hobbit, who was moving towards them, pointing nervously over his shoulder.

She was about to answer, setting the pipe and cleaner aside, but someone beat her to it.

"Orcs," Kili said, his expression serious and concerned.

"Orcs?!" Bilbo repeated, quickening his pace towards them.

"Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there," Fili added, puffing on his pipe and lowering his voice dramatically. "The Wilds are crawling with them."

Bilbo’s eyes widened.

"They strike in the dead of night, when everyone’s asleep. Swift and silent, no screams. Only blood," Kili concluded, lowering his voice even further while theatrically glancing around.

But Bilbo, evidently missing the irony, gaped in terror, glancing over his shoulder while the two brothers began to snicker, their gazes falling to the ground as they gave each other playful nudges.

If their goal was to terrify Bilbo for weeks, they had succeeded.

Geira let out a heavy sigh, fixing the two brothers with a piercing glare as they continued chuckling under their breath.

"Don’t you…" she began.

"Do you think this is funny?"

Geira stiffened when she recognised Thorin's voice, cutting through the air with anger. Rising from his seat to pose the question, he now towered over the two princes. Previously sitting apart, he now loomed over them not far from her. His sharp profile cut through the firelight as he advanced, still glaring at the princes.

"Do you think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" he asked again, his voice gravelly.

Kili lowered his gaze in guilt. "We didn’t mean anything by it," he murmured weakly.

"No you didn’t!" Thorin barked. "You know nothing of the world!"

Geira gripped her pipe tightly in her hand, her body tensing immediately upon hearing those words. But even just hearing his voice angered her so much that she continued to follow him with her eyes, watching as he turned his back and strode heavily towards the edge of the rock, which overlooked a steep drop.

"Don’t mind him, laddie," Balin interjected this time. Geira lifted her gaze slightly as she noticed the elder dwarf approaching the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. He was addressing Kili directly. "Thorin has more reason than most to hate the orcs," he continued, leaning an arm against the stones behind him.

Geira noticed Bilbo watching the older dwarf in confusion, while she knew exactly what he was referring to.

"After the dragon claimed the Lonely Mountain, King Thror sought to reclaim the ancient kingdom of Moria…"

Upon hearing those words, Geira’s grip on the pipe tightened as memories came flooding back—stories told by travellers, passed from man to man, from merchant to merchant, over the years. Tales of death, despair, and everything that had afflicted her people, all of which she had only heard about second-hand because she hadn’t been allowed to take part. She had been forbidden to save her people or reclaim her ancestral home, where she would never set foot again.

In an instant, the meadow before her transformed into dust. Her hands no longer gripped a pipe but the hilt of a sword. Her face was not streaked with sweat but smeared with drops of enemy blood. In an instant, she was transported—thanks to Balin’s words—100 years into the past.

"But our enemy got there first."

"Moria had been overrun by legions of orcs, led by the most vile of their kind: Azog the Defiler."

From the mass of bodies and swords emerged a white orc. Swinging his mace rhythmically, he easily swept aside every warrior in front of his fur-covered eyes. Commands in the Black Speech spilled from his mouth like the darkest of curses as he slaughtered anyone in his path.

"For years, he prowled those corridors, turning those mines into his lair. He knew that if he wanted complete control, he needed to make one final move. The great orc of Gundabad had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin," Balin said.

Amidst the smoke and flames of the pyres emerged four figures, each close to the other, covering each other’s backs. King Thror, with his gleaming crown, advanced through the ranks of orcs. Prince Thrain blocked arrows or blows aimed at his father, covered in blood from head to toe. And behind him… Thorin. Sword in hand, shouting and protecting his younger brother from every danger, while the dark eyes of Frerin glistened with tears.

"It began… with the beheading of the king," Balin continued.

Geira clenched her teeth.

My aunt gave her life to protect someone she was deeply devoted to.

But she wasn’t there when she was needed once more.

Thror’s glittering crown fell to the ground, into the mud and filth, as his head was raised high in the orc’s fist—a grim trophy of victory over the dwarves.

"Prince Frerin charged the orc alone, but he was slaughtered before he could even reach him."

Geira felt a sharp pang in her chest as the scene playing in her mind dissolved. She raised her gaze to Balin, who continued speaking to Bilbo, his eyes veiled with grief.

Frerin… was… dead?

In a flash, she lowered her gaze in disbelief, then lifted her eyes back to Thorin, watching his silhouette bend forward against the night.

Frerin had died at Azanulbizar, and she hadn’t known. She had never known. For all these years, she had believed he was safe with his family—with his brother, his sister, his father—but he was gone.

"Driven by grief, Thrain, Thorin’s father, led a charge towards the Dimrill Gate. It was a slaughter."

A line of dwarves broke away from the rest of the army, raising their shields high to create a passage through the orcs. They ran relentlessly, cutting down every enemy in their path. But with every orc they killed, three more fell from their own ranks. By the time they reached the gate, less than half of them remained.

"Thrain was driven mad by his sorrow. He vanished—whether taken prisoner or slain, we did not know. We were leaderless."

At those words, Geira’s thoughts turned to one person and one alone. Her heart began to race in her chest. She could picture the figure clearly: a line of silver amulets and long blue cloaks, one darker than the others, streaked with black iron veins. A square circlet on the forehead held back a long, blonde braid.

No, it couldn’t be true.

"Herja?" she whispered, raising her gaze to Balin.

The old dwarf nodded silently, looking at her as one might look at a wounded animal.

She immediately cast her gaze downward, clutching her cloak tightly around her shoulders. In that moment, everything became clear: this was why Fili and Kili knew nothing. This was why Gandalf had called on her, and not someone else.

If Thrain had disappeared, Herja was dead. Her aunt was dead. She was… the last one left.

"Our defeat and deaths were inevitable, but it was then that I saw him—a young dwarven prince—facing the pale orc."

On his knees, Thorin rose from the ground, his teeth gritted. His black hair clung to his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. But in the depths of his blue eyes, there was no fear—only rage, honour, and vengeance. A vengeance that burned with pride, the spirit of his ancestors filling his body and taking over, making him stronger than any earthly calamity.

"He was alone, facing this terrible foe."

Through the mist, Thorin leapt at the massive orc, sword drawn, and began fighting with all his might, shouting from the depths of his chest. She could see him struggling to strike, limping, hunched under the orc’s powerful blows. Yet every time he was knocked to the ground, he rose again.

"His armour was torn, and he wielded only an oaken branch as a shield."

Thorin’s hand reached for the branch lying on the ground and seized it, shielding himself from the relentless force of the orc’s strikes. She could hear his cries and groans as the bones in his arm fractured.

"Ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for his people."

More real than ever, she saw Thorin kneeling, blood on his face and dripping from his mouth. Groaning in pain, he fought on, shielding the front lines behind him and allowing them to advance towards the main gate.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be broken so easily."

Thorin let out a piercing battle cry, summoning the last of his strength to sever the pale orc’s arm completely. Black blood sprayed across his face as the orc collapsed in agony, falling to his knees before the triumphant dwarf prince.

"Our forces rallied and drove back the orcs. Our enemy was defeated."

The dwarves behind Thorin stared in awe, inspired by the final act of strength from the son of Durin, who stood tall, mighty, and legendary on the hill before their ancestral home. He shone like the Seventh Star, unstoppable as Mahal’s hammer on the anvil. He was the king of all dwarves, the lord of all the Children of Aulë.

Victory was theirs.

"But that night, there was no celebration, no songs, for our dead were beyond counting. We, the few, had survived."

And yet, amidst the joy, the bodies of the fallen remained fallen. The pyres continued to burn, and Frerin’s body lay lifeless on the ground, beside his grandfather’s shattered armour. Warriors clung to each other, foreheads pressed together, doubled over with grief. The bloodshed had given way to tears and the relentless awareness that the massacre of that day would echo through all the ages to come.

"And it was then that I thought: there is someone I could follow. There is someone I could call king," Balin declared, his tone filled with hope and love.

Only then did Geira raise her gaze and realise that the rest of the company had awakened. Now, they were staring at Thorin with wide eyes. Some placed a hand on their chest, while others simply remained silent, admiring their… king. She, however, felt an abyss open beneath her, swallowing her whole as Thorin turned, silently observing all his companions—except her.

Geira lowered her head, hiding her face as a storm of conflicting emotions rose in her chest: pain, anger, pride, and guilt, all consuming her like a fire.

"And what of the pale orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked curiously, drawing his knees to his chest.

"He crawled back into the hole he came from!" Thorin growled, striding back towards the fire, his heavy steps grinding into the dirt. "That filth died of his wounds long ago and he will not return," he said.

Dead.

Geira stiffened at the certainty with which Thorin had spoken. Among the villages of Men, in recent years, there were whispers of a massive white orc, of wargs and orcs pillaging every settlement they came across, leaving only bones and ashes in their wake.

In the silence, she glanced at Gandalf, who was watching Thorin with a frown. Thorin didn’t know. And no one had had the courage to tell him.

Another battle was raging within her: it was essential to tell him, it was only right that Thorin knew. But was it her place to do so? And why? Why should it fall to her? His companions ought to take care of him, just as he had taken care of them. She owed him nothing.

And besides, he wouldn’t believe her. He would shout at her, call her a liar.

Biting her trembling lip, she finally let the words escape, carried by something she couldn’t quite define.

"There are rumours in the East that say otherwise," she muttered, fixing her gaze on her black boots, avoiding meeting the dwarf's gaze, which now bore down on her again.

"No one asked for your input in this conversation or your opinion," Thorin replied coldly, turning towards her bed with a harsh glare that, if it could, would have set her aflame on the spot.

"I don’t need to be included in the conversation to dispel one of your certainties!" she retorted, the first stirrings of anger rising in her chest.

"My certainty?" he scoffed, stepping slowly towards the fire. "I watched it happen before my eyes. I was there while they massacred my people. I was there to see them die. And you... where were you?"

Geira remained silent, unwilling to answer, for whatever she said, she would always be seen as a liar. Always seen through his eyes as a traitor and a pawn of his kingdom. It was better to stay quiet and tend to her own affairs.

But her silence only enraged the king further.

"I asked you a question. Answer me!" Thorin barked, his voice rising.

"I wasn’t given the chance to be there. I wasn’t allowed. And you brought this fate upon me! If only I had known about the battle before it happened!" she shouted back.

She stood up quickly, and now only the fire separated them.

With some apprehension, she noticed the others were watching silently. Even Bilbo, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his knees drawn to his chest, stared at her, stunned.

Here, everyone would side with their sovereign, whether he was right or not.

"You were the architect of your fate, and yours alone! You chose your side. I did not make your choice for you!" he hissed, his voice filled with fury.

"And it was you who denied me the opportunity, who denied my father the opportunity to..." She bit her lip, cutting the sentence short.

No, she couldn’t say it—not aloud. It hurt too much. After all this time, it still hurt too much.

She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself together, trying to stop the trembling in her hands.

She decided to make one last attempt to prove her innocence. "I only ask..." she struggled to get the words out, "...that you trust me."

She realised how foolish she had been when she saw the icy look he gave her in response.

"I did trust you, if you remember. And I remember well where it got me—where it got all of us," he snarled.

He turned his back on her, walking with heavy, deliberate steps towards the edge of the rock, which opened onto a deep chasm, ignoring her completely.

It felt like a slap on her face. Geira felt a sudden urge to scream at the top of her lungs, to unleash her frustration and fury. Did he think he hated her more than she hated him? Oh, that cursed dwarf understood nothing—nothing at all.

"I remember too. I remember an exile that should never have happened! I remember a blind king, deaf to the truth, ignoring the pleas of one of his most trusted counsellors. I remember the despair and shame. I remember when you made me kneel and cut my hair, condemning me to exile. I remember wandering the Wilds, forbidden from speaking to anyone of my kin. And I remember the pain and death that followed—all of my world erased!" Her voice, strong and resolute at first, wavered, too much pain still lingering in her heart from those memories.

Breathing heavily, she spoke quickly, hoping no one would interrupt her. A long silence followed, none of the dwarves daring to make the slightest sound. Their eyes flicked between her enraged and distressed face and Thorin’s broad back.

Everyone, more or less, was aware of the deep divide and discord between them, and they knew better than to interfere. Even Dwalin kept silent; this wasn’t something for them to meddle in.

"Exile is a just punishment for those who betray their people. It was just for someone who turned their back and chose to consort with the enemy, conspiring behind their king's back, and watching their city burn!"

"That never happened! I came back! I came back, hoping that you, of all people, would understand and listen to me!"

"There was no reason to listen to more lies from your mouth! To hear your selfish excuses for why you weren’t there that day! For how you put yourself first above all else! For how your father conspired with the enemy!" Thorin roared, refusing to turn and face her, as if she were unworthy of his attention.

That was too much. He had no right to speak to her like that, to treat her as if she hadn’t tried to explain herself, as if all the pain and tears she had shed for him that day so long ago meant nothing.

"For once in my life, I put myself first. Yes, I lied. Yes, I betrayed. Yes, I put love above everything else. But I also put my love for Erebor above all else. I put my love for my family above all else! Just as you put everything else first—your pride and your blindness to what was happening in that mountain!" she snapped back, pointing a finger at him.

"Do not speak to me of love for Erebor. You know nothing of love!" Thorin bellowed, furious.

She flinched at the sharp pain that pierced her chest, as though his words were a dagger driven into her heart.

Her muscles tensed, like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey.

"You fled!" he spat, his voice laced with disdain. "You covered for a traitor, despite swearing before Mahal, and while you were gone, our people burned in their homes!"

Geira opened her mouth, stunned but trembling with rage. Unexpectedly, she laughed—a bitter, sorrowful laugh, utterly devoid of joy.

"You want me to say it’s all my fault, don’t you? That if not for me, our people would still be alive? That if not for me, everything that led to this moment would never have happened? That if not for me, Erebor would still be ours, you would be king, and everything would be perfect, wouldn’t it?" she whispered, though her tone carried like a scream in the frozen silence that hung between them.

Thorin didn’t move an inch.

"Answer me!" she snapped in anger, unable to control herself. She was too tired, far too tired for this. "Say it to my face, damn it!"

At an agonisingly slow pace, Thorin turned, his piercing gaze meeting hers.

She trembled, her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails bit into her skin. She couldn’t calm herself, not now, not when the dam of her pent-up hatred had broken.

Thorin, in contrast, betrayed no emotion, as though the argument didn’t concern him at all. He remained silent, save for a furrowed brow and lips pressed thin, barely parted. Geira knew he would never be fooled by the sight of a few tears—tears he would never see her shed in his presence again.

Oh no, she swore in that moment, he would never see her cry.

"The love of Durin’s line for gold and wealth far exceeds your love for the people around you, leaving you blind. Your pride, your blindness, will lead you down the path of darkness, one way or another. And know this: I have no intention of giving my life for you just to see it wasted," she declared.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off along the steep, rocky path they had taken to the cliff, disappearing into the forest’s dense shadows. She stumbled more than once over protruding roots, running clumsily in the oppressive but oddly comforting darkness.

Geira wished the darkness would swallow her whole—a prayer she had repeated for years.

She fell onto the uneven rocky surface, tearing her trousers and scraping her knees. The sting in her palms as they hit the hard ground reminded her that even this time, the darkness had not taken her. She picked herself up, limping a few more steps ahead before finding a fallen log. She collapsed onto it, exhausted from both her flight and the despair that overwhelmed her.

Sharp pain came from her palm, and as the darkness made it impossible to see, she felt around with her fingers. A small, pointed stone was embedded in her skin, likely lodged there during her fall. She held her breath, trying to steady herself. It was hard even to suppress her sobs, and her trembling wouldn’t stop. She pulled the stone out of her hand with a sharp tug, gasping, and flung it far into the trees. The dull sound of it landing among them joined the eerie, unsettling noises of the forest, where it always felt like something was watching from between the tall trunks. But truth be told, at that moment, the strange sounds weren’t Geira’s biggest concern.

Tearing a strip from her red shirt, long enough to wrap around her palm twice, she made a makeshift bandage. With no water to clean the shallow cut or the blood trickling from it, she tied the fabric tightly around her hand, knotting it despite the stinging pain.

Every attempt to hold back her tears had failed miserably the moment she hit the ground. She didn’t care about the blurry vision—she had no need of her eyes. The tears poured freely now, as though she hadn’t cried in years. And in truth, she hadn’t.

She vividly remembered the last time she cried, and why.

It was, after all, the same reason she was crying now. It was always the same reason. And yet, despite the years that had passed since that day—during which she hadn’t shed a single tear, hardening her heart—here she was, back where she had started. All it took were Thorin’s accusations and the hatred she had silently endured during her years of exile to resurface, consuming her mind and heart. No matter how hard she tried to forget the past, she  could never escape it. It always came back, eventually.

All she wanted was to fulfil her oaths, to live her life in peace. But like this? It was impossible.

She didn’t know how much time had passed—maybe hours. But the moon was now high in the sky, and the pain in her hand had dulled. For the first time in ages, she wanted to be truly alone, with no one around. She wanted to drown in the darkness.

Alone.

Geira clenched her fists, ignoring the small silver bracelet that slipped out from beneath her sleeve. She had cried enough over the past that night, and she wanted it to stop.

After a few minutes of walking through branches and broken trunks, she was the first to return to the camp where the others were sleeping soundly, their snores and calm breaths steady. She quickly surveyed the scene, counting to twelve: one was missing. Geira didn’t need to think twice—she knew exactly who it was.

Returning to her spot as quietly as possible, she knelt before her blanket. On it, she found her pipe and a handkerchief—the handkerchief Bofur had given Bilbo. Her hand trembled as she touched it, and even more so as she glanced over at Bilbo, sleeping not far from her.

A small smile escaped her lips.

She lay down slowly. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was slow to come. Every sound pricked her ears, and many hours later, one finally caught her attention. Heavy footsteps were approaching from the opposite direction of where she had fled. They came closer, stepping into the perimeter of the firelight, then stopped.

With a jolt in her chest, Geira felt Thorin’s piercing gaze land on her back. She thanked the heavens she was turned away from him, so he couldn’t see she was struggling to feign sleep.

She felt his eyes on her for a long time, leaving her restless and uneasy. Finally, she heard him lie down in his place.

More time passed, and eventually, Geira felt the pull of sleep envelop her, her limbs heavy, her eyelids closing in the comforting embrace of oblivion. The last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was a low, deep sigh.

[spenglersglasses]

🎙️Now I know you're asking yourself, 2 chapters in one day? ❤️‍🔥

Well yup that's right... don't get used to it. I just got on a stride and could literally not control myself...

⚠️ FLASH WARNING⚠️

Anyways once again a few disclaimers/reminders before we begin!

While I know it is canon that Alastor is asexual, in this fic he has a rare sexual attraction that develops for a certain someone in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

Also, when Alastor has moments of "glitching" or that infamous radio cracking to his voice, his speech will look like this (Ĝ͎͍͓͌͠l̡̟̩͍̐̐̕͞ì͓̞̗̜̇̿͝ẗ̼c̬̮̹̔̒́h͚͇́̓ ̙͕̮̣̎͑͛̚s̟͇̽͞p̫͉͆̈e̡͇͉͐̑̊e̻͞c͙͇̆̏h̺̗̭̙̑̓̄͝), I will be making a note of what is being said, so those who have a harder time can understand it, but I thought it was an awesome effect lol.

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠

(Hazbin Hotel)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect…what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Chapter 3: Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Beginning HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

- FLASHBACK (7 Years ago) - 

The winds snapped around him like lashes from a whip. Kissing and slicing into his skin, leaving marks of blood in their wake. A pattern of scars that would speak volumes. The great radio demon had managed to escape. Coming too close to meeting his end at the hands of that filthy screen-faced fuck. 

Alastor was seething with rage. His powers had all but dwindled down to nothing, leaving the once power overlord defenseless. Thankful that he had at least been able to take his own pound of flesh from the head of the Vees, before fleeing for his life. Now, past the outskirts of Pentagram City, he found himself. Deep beyond the inner rings of Hell. Cast out into the bowels of which even Lucifer himself had long since abandoned. 

“This can’t be happening.” he groaned, struggling just to continue on. Gradually his movements became slower. Like walking in quicksand, he struggled with every step until he was all but crawling along the ground. The sounds of screaming and radio signals crackling in his ears. And for the first time, Alastor felt truly helpless. It was then, in his most desperate hour, he heard HER voice again.   

“Oh, poor sweet Alastor… what brings thee to my garden?” she asked, waiting for his response as she remained still hidden in the shadows. 

No. Not now, Alastor pleaded inside, feeling the presence growing closer. Unable to leave, she manifested before him. Enormous and horrid, her mouth opening up to reveal her slithering tongue. Splicing itself into tentacles and covered in glowing eyes. Sprouting like sores on its spines as she came closer and closer.  

The sight of her alone could destroy even the most robust of sinners. Like a mutation, colored in shades of black, red, and white she continued evolving—changing. Finally becoming fully formed as she reached Alastor. The radio demon, forcing himself to look up at her. The entity, now appearing as a rather normal looking woman. 

Dark black hair, fading into crimson red, was long and luscious. Her beautiful face, partially obscured beneath a wide-brim black hat. She was imposing to look at. Her Long, red overcoat flowing in the hellish winds. Endless chains coming from the depths of her coats. Emerging from its checkered pattern of black and white, spreading out into the abyss and traveling to Alastor.   

“My favorite pet… Seems we have run into a bit of trouble. Tsk tsk.” she taunted. Alastor’s smile flickering into a snarl for a moment before he spoke.

“Roo! Fancy seeing you here. I—” he struggled, coughing up blood as his radio wave effect crackled in and out. His chest still aching from his wounds and his powers holding on for dear life before he finally collapsed onto the ground. The shadows and spirits he commanded, spinning around him with nowhere to go. Roo smiled, squatting down beside him. Taking Alastor’s chin in her hands and raising his gaze up to meet her. 

“Poor Alastor, letting the TV bother you again I see. You know I can’t have that… after all who else would bring me such delicious souls if not for you.” she hummed, her otherworldly tongue coming out to swirl over his cheek. Alastor knew she wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had made a pact when Alastor first arrived in Hell. The newly deceased sinner, confused and bloodied from his fall into the pit when he saw Roo had been waiting. 

Somehow, she knew he was coming. Standing by in the darkness, watching for him—ready to offer the once proud New Orleans radio host, turned serial killer, an opportunity he would never be able to refuse. Her wicked hand, held out to him, tendering him the chance to become Hell’s greatest overlord. To continue his work started on the Earthly plane. 

All Alastor had to do was agree that every soul who had fallen short of his debts, she’d be allowed on them. Alastor would have full control of the rest, using them, and his newly given powers, to ascend the ranks. To the ambitious and blood lusting Alastor it was a deal that was too good to be true. They shook on it, Alastor and Roo now bound until his death. Alastor, learning quickly that his deal would eventually lead to his death.  

While the stipulations of their agreement had worked for a time, Roo quickly grew greedy. Trying to convince Alastor to go beyond the terms of their deal. Sending her souls when no breach of their contract was made. The sounds of overlords filling his radio waves as he slaughtered them, over and over again, began haunting the rings of Hell. So much so that the mere mention of his name incited fear in their souls. 

HIs last attempt to feast on an overlord was Vox. The demon who had only nearly managed to escape, but not without first taking his swing at the radio demon. Now Alastor was hanging on by a thread. Looking into Roo’s soulless eyes and wondering if this was truly the end or if in exchange for more time, an even more binding deal would be necessary. 

After all, Roo was in fact the root of all Evil. Feeling as though she were equal, but opposite to God than Lucifer himself. A position she clutched tightly enough to bleed.

“I was so close.” Alastor stammered. His voice, weak and pathetic. It was a rare sight to see. If she were being honest, it tickled Roo to see him that way. She still needed him, however and their deal together was still very much not done. There was still more to gain from him, and Roo was never satisfied.  

Alastor suddenly felt like he could expand his lungs. A cold rush flowing through him and the pain, beginning to disappear and he had begun healing. His loyal shadow and souls, pulling themselves back inside him. The greenlight of his power radiating brightly once more. He felt refreshed—alive. 

“See now. All better.” Roo said smugly. Watching as Alastor rose up from the ground, ready to slaughter anyone who stood in his way. “Remember Alastor, you owe me.” she smiled. Winking at the radio demon. Before he could speak, he found himself somehow back in Pentagram City. 

A bit dazed and confused, he strolled down the streets just as he did before. Ready to rumble once again with Vox, after some careful planning, when he noticed that another extermination had already begun. Alastor, wondering to himself why it was happening again soon. Wasn’t only a few days ago that the angels descended to Hell, he asked himself. Sauntering over to Cannibal Town, where he managed to find a calendar hanging on the wall at Rosie’s favorite butcher shop.

When his eyes met with the date, his dials began spinning. Horns growing larger from his head in his panic. Making ungodly sounds that glitched and screeched loud enough to affect everyone traveling around him. Somehow, in the short time he felt he was with Roo, 7 years had passed.   

- Present Day -

Charlie didn’t know why, but she found herself frantically running towards Alastor’s radio tower. Crying hard, the tears spilling with every step. Angry at Vaggie for her betrayal, but even more angry at herself, knowing that she was responsible. That she had in fact betrayed their relationship long before Vaggie’s indiscretion. 

Slowly things had been driving a distance between them. Vaggie’s issues with the hotel, the revelation she was an angel—part of the extermination team to boot, and this thing with Alastor that Charlie couldn’t shake. All of it had been slowly pulling them apart and Charlie did nothing to stop it. Now here she was, running to the man who had stolen her affections. 

Charlie’s heart was raw and bleeding. Her emotions had never been so overwhelming. When she finally reached the door, she began banging, hard and loud, until it swung open. Alastor, spinning around in his chair to see Charlie looking more distressed than ever before. A sight that had unexpectedly made him feel a flicker of worry and concern.  

“Charlie! My dear, just in time for our little announcement.” Alastor beamed, rising up from the chair before coming to greet her. Charlie took one look at Alastor, standing there with what she hoped was a genuinely happy smile and hoping it was for her, when she rushed towards him.

“Alastor.” she cried, quickly burying her face into his shoulder. Alastor was taken back, finding himself unable to let go of her. Wrapping his arms around her as the princess sobbed against his coat. The sound of her cries, making him feel an unexpected pity—even sympathy for her.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked, the words feeling odd as they fell from his lips. However odd it seemed; he still meant them. Charlie, looking up at him. Her eyes, full of sadness and pain. 

“Vaggie… she… I… we…” Charlie cried, feeling Alastor unexpectedly pulling her in even closer. Both Alastor and Charlie, unable to deny feeling one another’s heartbeats. Their rhythm, matching each other’s intensity. Wondering to themselves, if the other was feeling it too. 

“Shhh…” he said, patting the top over her head, “...it doesn't matter anymore.” he assured her. Charlie felt a smile tugging on her face just as Alastor pulled her off by the shoulders. Looking her dead in the eye. “Now my dear bride-to-be… I suggest we keep the details of our nuptials between us. Heaven knows what kind of madness that might cause for your family. You know should it be revealed that you had just… owed me one.” Alastor chuckled.  

He was right. The situation was bad enough without having everyone in Hell knowing all the gorey details. Charlie nodded her head in response. Alastor smiled, taking a hold of his microphone cane and tapping it against his hand until he found his preferred frequency. 

“We have a new journey to attend to.” Alastor assured her. Sending her a wink.

“Al… what are you?” Charlie began, Alastor placing a finger to her lips. The sound of his laughter ringing out all over Pentagram City. 

“Salutations my fellow sinners. Today is a special day indeed. I know you have all been waiting oh so—patiently for the new broadcast. So without too much more suspense… I thought we might open things with a bang or should I say a bell. Wedding bells.”

The broadcast was sent out all over. Heard by everyone within the city—every sinner, demon, overlord, imp, and hellhound. All of them Wondering what the fuck the radio demon was going on about. Their answer came fast when before they knew it, Alastor asked Charlie to join him on the mic. Their ears piqued as they waited with bated breath.

“...It’s about time I settled down. Asking my beautiful, darling Charlotte Morningstar for her hand… so whaddya say Charlie, will you marry me?” Alastor asked her. The broadcast, finding its way to Lucifer who was halfway across the city in his palace. Spitting out his food when he heard what Alastor had to say. The king of Hell swatting a stack of rubber ducks across the room. Feeling like his skin was crawling at the news. Immediately searching for his phone to call Charlie. Thinking that he’d be well on his way to stopping this soon.

Back at the tower Charlie began fidgeting with her hands. “Um… uh….” she mumbled. Stalling for time while she battled herself inside. The will of her heart and mind at odds. 

She knew what she had to do, this bit was all just for show. Neither one of them wanted the rest of Hell to know the truth. The stench of it wouldn’t be good on either of them. Charlie swallowed back her reservations and looked over to Alastor. “Yes. I will marry you.”

The town was in an uproar. The conversation on everyone’s lips was only about the enigmatic couple. “Oh, I had no idea they were an item.” said one of the sinners who had stopped on the street beside a hellhound in the Pride ring. Another in the Lust ring, mentioning that they were actually perfect for one another if everyone thought about it. There was no escaping it now, everyone would know now. 

In Cannibal Town, an engagement celebration had begun. The crowd, cheering at the news of their delightful princess and Alastor getting ready to tie the knot. Rose, however, was sitting quietly on her veranda. Munching on a few lady fingers, when the broadcast caught her attention. “Hmm… Alastor, just what are you up to?” she asked herself. 

The news had even reached the depths of V Tower. Vox was sitting in his office, feet propped up as he casually watched 666 News while going over some plans. Suddenly anchor Katie Killjoy came on the screen. His attention was captured. 

“Thanks for nothing Tom, and now for more amusing news… Seems everyone’s favorite radio demon overlord and the princess of Hell are set to tie the knot. While no details have been disclosed at this time. You can be sure we will keep you up to date on their upcoming nuptials.” she reported, a glimmer of sarcasm and resentment present in her tone.

The screens around him began shorting out. Glitching and pixelating, covering them completely from left to right. Vox began digging his fingers into the control console. How? Why? 

“Alastor and fucking Charlotte Morningstar?!” he raged, instantly coming to the conclusion that Alastor was making a power play. “That motherfucker!” Vox said, ripping one of the screens off the wall. Tossing it out into the hall just as Velvette had been walking towards him. Cautiously peeking her head in the door frame, noticing Vox’s bad mood. Velvette, relishing a chance to worsen it further. 

“Hmm… What's up your ass now?” she asked. Vox practically heaving, desperately wanting to taste Alastor’s blood. 

“That noisy little fuck has managed to convince Lucifer’s daughter to marry him.” he growled. Velvette, cocking an eyebrow at him before laughing her head off. 

“Jealous?” she asked him, a big smirk on her face. Vox was ready to tear her throat out but tried his best to compose himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he growled. 

“Let him have her. Why the fuck should we care?” Velvette asked, refusing to let the news ruffle any of her feathers. Vox clearly wasn’t going to be satisfied with that answer. Angry that Alastor had managed to come up with yet another way to gain power. Thinking to himself that there was no way the princess and him were actually in love. 

“Because it gives him more control, you idiot.” Vox began, knowing he had to do something to put a stop to it. “Wonder how things will blow over once they are exposed for the frauds they are. Maybe that outdated, crackling son of bitch will be held accountable.” Vox mused. 

“Just what do you have in mind?” Velvette asked him. The TV screens, all beginning to flash with images of Alastor and Charlie. Then images that appeared like they were from cameras surveilling the city. The system, bouncing from image to image, trying to locate the two of them. Vox, laughing maniacally before answering.

“You will see. Everyone will see.” 

Charlie left the radio tower with unexpected butterflies in her belly. Her head, still however, screaming at her to run. Struggling with herself and the right thing to do. Just as the broadcast had ended, as if On cue, came the call from her father. Lucifer, insisting she get her “royal ass” down to the palace before he’d find a way to shut down the hotel. She knew he would be angry, how could he not, but not this angry. 

Alastor and her father were oil and water. There was no way he was going to accept this marriage without a fight. Charlie, deciding to do her best to convince him. Gathering up her courage and putting on a brave face. Hoping that between the hotel and her father’s house, she could come up with a believable enough excuse for him to let it go. A tall order indeed. Just as she stepped outside, she immediately bumped into someone. 

The impact, sending them down to the ground. Charlie panicked, reaching out her hand for them to take. Feeling stupid for having not seen them when she noticed the hint of wings beneath the person’s silver cloak—It was Emily. 

“Emily! Oh, shit I’m sorry. What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, hoisting the angel up from the ground and helping to brush her off. 

“Charlie, it’s so good to see you again! I was coming to talk to you about something, but gosh I just overheard some of your… um… people… saying that you are getting married?!” the angel smiled, her eyes shining with anticipation and excitement. 

“Oh ah… yeah that's right. Alastor and I. Who knew.” Charlie laughed nervously. Emily jumped at her, arms quickly flying around Charlie’s shoulders as Emily squeezed her tightly in a hug. 

“Oh gosh, that is such wonderful news and oh man I am so sorry to bug you while you are planning… but I need to speak with you.” she continued, her face turning a bit more serious than before. 

“What's wrong? Has heaven decided that—” Charlie began before Emily cut her off. The smile on her face, now practically sparkling.

“Your friend, Sir Pentious… he is with us in Heaven! He has been absolved Charlie, you did it!” she explained. This time Charlie grabbed hold of Emily. 

“What?! Are you sure?!” she asked, almost shaking the poor angel in her excitement. Rejoicing and crying as the smile on her face grew wide enough to rival even Alastor’s.

“It’s true he arrived a while ago. He’s proof that the sinners can be redeemed!” Emily grinned. 

“How? I mean I know how. Fucking Hell we did it!” Charlie cheered, the excitement sending her head spinning. She felt the need to sit down for a moment. “Wait Emily… How come you are just now telling me? It’s been months now… I have been waiting for another letter and nothing…” Charlie asked.

“Oh Charlie, that's why I had to come see you in person. Someone has been intercepting our letters. I don't know who, but I have it on good authority it’s one of Adam’s crew. Don't you worry though, I plan on getting to the bottom of it.” Emily assured her. “I have to go now before anyone gets suspicious, but keep your head up girl, you got this!.” 

“Thank you.” Charlie said as Emily disappeared into thin air. The news was powerful, just what Charlie needed to feel better about everything that had happened between Vaggie and Alastor. While she wished she had time to go wake everyone up and scream their success from the rooftop, there was still the matter of attending to her Father. The boss of Hell was waiting impatiently for his daughter’s arrival. Charlie would do well not to keep him waiting. 

By mid-afternoon Angel and Husk had managed to stumble out of bed. Husk, going straight back to minding the bar as Angel slumped over the sofa in the parlor. The night had proven to be quite enjoyable, the two of them finally consummating their affections, that up until now Husk had been loath to admit. The former cat overlord, softening up to the porn star with a big heart after all.

Angel began flipping through the TV channels. Sending Niffty off to grab him a bite to eat and occasionally making lewd comments at Husk, when he caught a repeat of Katie Killjoy’s segment. Angel’s mouth dropped to the floor. Dumbstruck with the words he had just heard from outta the old cunt’s mouth. 

They had missed Alastor’s special broadcast. Too hungover, and blissfully snoozing, after a night of unbridled passion to have listened. “Well fuck me.. You hearin’ this shit whiskers?” Angel asked, jolting up off from his spot and over to the bar. 

“I told you not to call me that… Already up my ass after one night.” Husk huffed under his breath, a slight smile peeking out from beneath his annoyance. 

“I believe you were up my ass schnookums, but seriously we got a problem. Charlie and Smiles are getting hitched. That’s gotta be a joke right?” Angel asked, cringing at the thought. 

“Charlie’s in love with Alastor.” Niffty chimed in, handing Angel over his sandwich and climbing up to sit on the bar. Husk insincerely smiled,  pushing her gently off the side of the bar. Niffty scurrying off somewhere they didn’t care to know. 

“My money is on Charlie getting herself into some deep shit.” Husk commented. “He’s no good. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What are we gonna do?” Angel asked, Husk letting out a sigh. Resigning himself to having to help figure things out once again. 

“Let’s go talk to her.” he suggested, ready to round the bar and head upstairs. Taking Angel with him to Charlie’s room, when Niffty shot out in front of him. Halting them two of them mid-stride. 

“Charlie is out! Left this morning after the broadcast.” she informed them. Husk, face palming hard as he tried to quickly formulate a plan. 

”Nift, you keep watch over the hotel. Me and…Pookie are gonna go find our Princess.” Husk said. Niffty, nodding in response. With that Husk and Angel left to find her. Unbeknownst to them, Alastor had been lurking in the shadows. Over hearing their little conversation and beginning to wonder himself where Charlie had run off too. 

Deciding that he should be keeping a closer eye on her just in case. Having the budding need to protect her, when suddenly a thought hit him. If Charlie was out and the news about their wedding was going around like wildfire, surely someone who wanted to get at him might take the opportunity to use her against him. Instantly the radio demon fled from the hotel, determined to try and find Charlie before anyone else.   

Charlie was strolling down the center of Pentagram City, ready to have a one on one with her dad. Hoping to convince him that she and Alastor were a real couple. Knowing all too well that things were far from the fantasy romance she had spun in the deep recesses of her mind. As she walked, the residents of the city stopped to talk with her. 

Well wishes and congratulations, coming from all around. Her people, seeming to be truly happy for her. If only she could be happy too. It wasn’t very long into her journey, when she reached the road that would lead her to her father’s.  Unexpectedly finding herself face to face with Vox as she turned the corner. The one overlord she knew Alastor absolutely detested above all others. 

While she had hoped to avoid him, it was too late. He had caught sight of her, yelling her name from across the street. Bringing with him a flood of press from 666 News and other outlets. Cameras and reporters coming out of the woodwork to surround them. Charlie, wondering if Vox had planned this, knowing that it most likely had. Nothing would make him happier than finding a way to get to Alastor. 

“Charlie! Ms. Morningstar! I hear congratulations are in order. What are you doing all this way without your… handsome beau?” Vox asked, practically choking on the words.  

“I ah… well…” Charlie tried to answer, tapping her pointer fingers together. Overwhelmed with all the flashing lights and cameras in her face. Vox was never happier, grinning as he saw how flustered and upset she had become. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the truth out of her.

“Tell us Charlie… is it true that you and Alastor have been making it all up?” one reporter asked. Charlie’s eyebrows raised and her teeth clenched as she wanted to scream back at them. 

“There have been reports that the marriage is a sham, can you comment?” another reporter asked. 

“No that's not… I…” she said, trying to think of something to say. Something that had more weight than just telling them it was real, that it wasn’t just for show. Words that maybe could even convince her it was true. 

“Please… come on you guys. Of course Charlie and Alastor aren’t faking their romance.” Vox said, his face and demeanor suggesting otherwise. It was about that time that Lucifer had come looking for his daughter. Every television had his little princess plastered on every channel. She was in trouble and he knew it. 

By the time he reached her, so had Angel and Husk. All three of them, unable to get to her from behind the hordes of press that had encircled her and Vox. It was clear that this had all been a set up. Lucifer, Husk, and Angel, Watching poor Charlie becoming more and more panicked as the press berated her and there was nothing they could do. 

Lucifer had had enough, pushing through the crowd. Only getting about half way to Charlie when out of nowhere Alastor materialized beside her. His tentacles and horns on full display. The crowd that had been keeping her captive, backing off in terror before the radio demon came back into his usual form. Standing beside Charlie as he took her hand in his. 

Instantly Charlie felt breathless. Was Alastor actually holding her hand? What other choice did they have if they were going to keep up the facade. The small gesture was enough to send her heart pounding once again. Alastor speaking to address Vox and the rest of the crowd. 

“Oh Vox, Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟. You have been such a poor reporter. Maybe staying in your tower is more suitable for your talents.” he snapped, sending a devilish grin Vox’s way. The overlord, wanting so badly to punch Alastor’s smug face. He knew this might be the only chance he may get to screw him over. It was now or never. 

“Well Alastor, if the two of you are so IN LOVE… why don’t you prove it?” Vox hissed. Both Alastor and Charlie, frightened by being called out on their bluff. They had to do something to prove it, but what? Her father and friends, all watching, waiting—wondering what they would do next. 

Just as Vox was beginning to feel that he had accomplished his goal, Charlie grabbed hold of Alastor’s coat. Pulling him close to her and pressing her lips to his. The crowd audibly gasped as their lips met. Alastor, too, was in shock. Finding it hard not to close his eyes to the feel of Charlie’s mouth on his. 

Was Charlie enjoying this? Was he? Alastor wasn’t sure, but he met her half way—and more. Dipping her before the crowd. His willing tongue, sliding into her mouth with ease. Dancing along with hers in the most sincere kiss Charlie had ever felt before. The princess’s eyes, opening a moment in surprise before closing them once again. Both of them lost in the moment. 

Alastor was wondering what had come over him. Never before had he felt this way with anyone, but when they kissed, it was undeniable. Something was happening to him. On the inside, Charlie too was overwhelmed, pretending that he felt for her what she felt for him. The crowd began cheering around them as the kiss was broadcasted across all the rings of Hell. Vox pissed off more than ever before as the two of them seemed to have foiled his plans once again.  

Roo laughed, the radio waves having just reached her. The news of Alastor’s engagement to the princess of Hell was now on her radar. Roo, knowing that she would now more than ever, need to keep a close eye on Alastor. “Oh Alastor, just what are you up to?” 

Notes:

Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟- You annoying little fuck.

[sifonie]

“Aww, look at you! Does it hurt when I do this?”

Sibyl’s currently gripping someone by the hair, their scalp practically screaming for help in their grip. Despite the seemingly sympathetic pout on their face, there’s a wild, fiery look in their eyes that screams otherwise. “Oh, I’m sowwy…,” they continue, batting their lashes as if trying to prevent tears from falling. Suddenly, their hold becomes tighter as they yank back their head even further, delighting in their pained yelp.

“Maybe we should’ve listened and then we wouldn’t have to be hurt. It’s a sad thing to know that people don’t appreciate music like they should. It wounds me, even!” A dramatic sigh, a beat. And then they lean in closer to the poor sod, touching their foreheads together so that they get an even closer look into their eyes. “But not as bad as it’ll wound you. Oh, but consider it a treat! You get to witness my magnum opus!”

A wicked grin stretches across their face before they let out the loudest damn thing their victim has ever heard. A high-pitched tone, one that not only hurt, but started to cause such a ringing that would drive anyone insane. “CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? I WANNA HEAR YOU SCREAM!” And they do, right on cue. It was music to Sibyl’s ears. Their other hand snaps, and just as planned, they knew that those ear drums were a bloody and utterly destroyed mess. A stunning performance indeed, one that would deserve a standing ovation… if the person of choice could stand.

Instead, Sibyl reels back enough to suck up enough saliva to spit in their face and simply drop their head so that it slams down onto the concrete with a squelch. They stand from their position to give the pathetic body one last glance before they huff. “Fucking ingrate.” With that, they click their tongue and walk on top of the body, making sure they hear that delightful, sickening crunch before they scuff their boots on the ground as if they’d just stepped in something disgusting.

A shrug, and then a melodic, cheerful whistle as they walk away.

[neverchecking]

I just had another thought and HAD to share.

Y’all were talking about reader who knew about the power she had over the Chain and how she knew they’d do anything for her.

And I had a thought with that reader, the request I sent about reader wanting to repay the chain and they wanted her to sit on their face?(I loved that one by the way I can’t stop rereading it imnotkidding) What if the chain couldn’t think of anything or insisted nothing was needed, that just her presence was enough? Reader obviously isn’t gonna accept that and thinks about their reward throughout the night, what to give your group of boys who’s obsessed with you and would literally die (and kill) for you? Boys who wouldn’t accept anything if it didn’t benefit their goddess?

The answer was obvious.

The next day reader just strolls up to one of the chain and hands them a towel telling them that they thought of a reward for them and that they need to clean their face.

Not one to deny their goddess of a request, grabs the offered towel and cleans his face and asked

“Was there something on my face?”

“Nope, I just want my seat clean for later”

Music stops. Silence. Then chaos

Lmao sorry I’m not a writer but I just really wanted to share this. Makes me wonder which members of the chain would short circuit with a red face and who would just pounce on reader(Sage would)

~💚

💚 anon! You have come to feed us TODAY-

I love ALL of this sm-

I can really imagine Reader handing the towel to Sky bc baby boy is so innocent and such a romantic and a thing like that would destroy him`. Of course all of them take a milisecond to process, but that is all.

You bet your ass Sage is for sure pouncing. He is grabbing his own towel and cleaning his own face without a second thought.

Of course, the Chain cannot just let that stand. Maybe their at an inn or something and Wind is already in bed, and it just turns into some giant orgy type deal in the public baths bc those men are animals. Warriors and Twi are tryna drag Sage back but he's too fast.

Four is definitely short circuited alongside Hyrule, both prolly tryna figure out if they heard right. Legend knows he heard right but is trying to see if Reader was serious. Poor Sky is just- Sky.Exe has crashed. Time is smart about this whole thing. While the others are fighting off Sage (Wild now included, tackling him out of nowhere), he comes up behind Reader holding their arms as he chuckles into their ear.

Since they were so insistent on thanking them, might as well make their goddess happy right?

Rip Reader. We loved em while they lasted.

[raedroid]

Never Too Young To Die

Prologue: Ragnar’s Renegades

Ok I’m doing this now because a lot of my kiss discord friends want this and I have been obsessed with this movie lately so I might do this for a while. Hopefully you all will enjoy this continuation/rewrite of Never Too Young To Die

Also in my rewrite, I don’t really know what pronouns Velvet used so I’m gonna make them go by all pronouns. I feel like it suits them

——————————————————————————

Night is usually a peaceful time. The lights are down, everyone is asleep and dreaming away. But not here in California. The night is still young and the city is still alive and of course, the rebels are on the rise. Fort MacArthur, once a large military base, is where the devoted renegades of the city are running wild. They all devote themselves to a powerful mastermind. They are flamboyant and fierce but merciless and devilish and looked down at her rebels sitting in a pit down below of their secret camp. She smirked and looked, revelling in the praise of her followers as they chanted her name, a dastardly plan in her eyes

“My little slugs, how are we tonight?” He shouted, receiving shouts of praise once again. “Very good. Let me think, we’ve got access to their computers, how to channel radioactive waste and all of it will go from Diablo Canyon into those unfortunate souls drinking water. We’ve got everything we need to set our plan into motion!” She declared proudly. Her followers cried out in joy over their victory

“However, there is a slight glitch. Someone had stolen our little disk. The last piece of the puzzle.” She stated gloomily and the others below her groaned in disbelief and anger, ranting to one another and were ready to destroy something nearby in rage.

“Velvet! I’ve got something for you!” A voice called out, gaining everyone’s attention “Bring her in!” She ordered some of her crew members, carrying a woman down the path. Velvet looked down to see a slender woman with black hair and cold gray eyes and gave her a smirk. This was Rayla, Velvets right hand lady and the most dangerous of her renegades. Well, except for herself of course.

“Rayla! Well done darling!” Velvet thanked, jumping down to join her and they looked at their prisoner. The poor woman has been chosen as the perfect source of the culprit. They lowered her into the pit and she looked at Ragnar in horror.

“Now tell me, who did it?” She ordered and the woman looked on in fear, but she stood her ground.

“I’ll never tell you! You can’t get me to talk!” She whimpered and Rayla dropped down and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

“We can! Do not dare test him!” She shouted to her face. As she held her up close to her face, Rayla noticed something dangling off of her ear. A circular emblem with a star pattern engraved in the token. Velvet took a notice as well and ripped it off her ear, receiving a shriek of pain from their prisoner.

“Stargrove huh? What’s her name?” She asked.

“Some bitchy name like Lily Jones? I don’t know, doesn’t matter right?” Rayla replied

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” He answered. The other followers smirked with satisfaction and Lily was shaking in fear, hoping she would be spared.

“Please don’t kill me! I promise I’ll do anything for you! But please leave me alone!” She cried in desperation. Velvet leaned down and caressed her cheek

“Listen darling. Be careful with who you trust because in this place, chances have to be earned.” She whispered gently, revealing her long fingernail and stabbed her prisoner with no hesitation. As her prisoner fell to ground, slowly losing consciousness and passing away, the others cheered for their mighty leader.

“Now everyone, change of plan. Get me Stargrove! I want Stargrove!” She announced angrily. Everyone scrambled together and started to run around in a frenzy while Velvet took the emblem and strutted off. Now it was time for the biggest fight of the decade.

——————————————————————————

Velvet inspected the emblem stolen from her disappointing prisoner, checking every detail possible. Something about the pendent enrages her, hidden deep inside she is disturbed by it, something she never shared with anyone. Except for her.

“Everything alright?” Velvet looked up and saw Rayla, standing by the doorway of their master bedroom.

“With you here, everything is perfect.” Velvet purred, throwing the pendent behind him and getting up to take his partners hand. “Great job out there darling. Like always.” He complimented, kissing the hand of his most loyal partner

“Sorry the prisoner was disappointing again. These bastards can be so rude.” Rayla apologized but Velvet raised a hand to stop her

“You weren’t the problem my love. They had their chance and they didn’t take it so they brought it upon themselves.” Velvet explained, lying down on the couples large red bed. “Aside from dealing with that lunatic, how was your day?”

“Well not the greatest. I was talking to Pyramid and found out that Stargrove’s Faction has slaughtered about 8 of our crew. I tried to get them but they left in the nick of time.” She replied and Velvet spotted a bleeding area on Rayla’s arm.

“Come here. Your arm is bleeding. We can’t have that.” Rayla sat down and Velvet quickly but safely pulled off her long dark trench coat and started tending to his lovers wound.

“Again, sorry for wasting too much time on that issue. I was being careless again.”

“You don’t have to apologize about that babe. I just wished someone told me sooner. That way I would’ve been there to protect you.”

“You’ve done it before countless times. I just want to return the favour.”

“Darling, you already know that you are more than worthy of me and my love. You don’t need to hurt yourself to prove it.” Velvet took her hands and kissed each one of them delicately and Rayla smiled hard.

“You know for a criminal, you’re quite a charmer.”

“Everyone’s got their talents.” She smiled back and Rayla threw her jacket to the floor.

“Speaking of talents, the finger always amazes me. Where did you come up with that idea?” She asked, tugging off her boots

“I’m just that good I guess. I come up with some wacky things from time to time. But trust me, I’ll use it again in order to make Stargrove pay.” She swore and gripped the blankets of the bed, anger returning again

“Why does he keep coming back and getting us all killed? Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time?” Rayla asked annoyed

“He and I have been… acquainted before. But I put the past behind me unlike him. But he’s not very bright. I know he’s gonna come and get us at our base but we’ll be ready for him.” Velvet explained, smirking once more

“How do you know that?”

“Riley knew a guy from his little faction and so he gets a lot out of him, even if he has to do some convincing. Riley surprises me with that kind of stuff.” He admitted and goes over to Rayla, hanging up her coat

“That’s wild. But then, you come up with the best schemes around here.” Rayla admitted, smirking as Velvet wrapped their arms around her. “Seriously, you blow me away.”

“And you will be the best killer for the job!” Velvet responded and they plopped back on their bed, laughing and enjoying themselves. “And side note, I’ve got a show coming up. April 21 and I need a good opening act. You will be perfect on that stage my dearest.”

“I love these things about you. You love chaos and destruction but you still have a soft spot for me.” Rayla remarked and Velvet strokes her cheek.

“It’s true but my love for you is stronger than any explosive. Just know that you are the most precious thing I can ever love.” They smiled at each other and kissed passionately on the lips.

“You got it babe. Opening act on April 21, I’ll be there.” She answered

“Knew I could count on you. Now, how about a little bit of fun tonight. What do you say?” Velvet asked, gently pushing her down on the bed.

“I’d love to but I’m feeling tired after all the shit that happened today.” Rayla admitted and slowly pulled the blankets over herself.

“Fair enough. But don’t forget that you promised for fun the other night.” He teased and Rayla threw a pillow at him, causing the two of them to erupt in laughter. “Just rest up ok darling?” He leaned down and gently kissed her and Rayla played with his hair until they let go to breathe

“Goodnight Vel. Love you.” She said softly and blew them a kiss as they started to leave the room. “Will you be back soon?”

“Yes. Just need some air. Goodnight darling. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful companion like you.” They whispered, blowing a kiss back at her before shutting the door. As they did, they immediately started to panic over the pendent, feeling a cold pressure on themself.

“He can do whatever he wants with me. But he’s not getting anywhere near my girl. I’ll make sure of it.” They muttered slowly levelling their breathing before opening the door to reunite with their lover, forging more plans to stop Stargrove

[orcusnoir]

The Shadow Over Hyrule

Legend was able to procure one of the letters being sent from Snowpeak Manor, and it was currently being passed around everyone by the road sign they waited at just outside of Castle Town. He was going to each Link and explaining what was weird about said letter, as his written Hylian was different from most others. It was when Legend got to Wild, that the true strangeness of the letter finally hit.

“This…” the Champion shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “This doesn’t make any sense… It’s asking for King Rhoam, but…”

King Rhoam… Twilight was familiar with the name, as he was the king of Wild’s Hyrule before the event known as the Calamity destroyed it.

“So they’re asking for people who don’t even exist in this timeline?” asked Time with a weary voice.

“Sure seems like it,” Wild took in a deep and shaky breath. The memory of King Rhoam, and nearly anything to do with the kingdom of his era before the Calamity was a touchy subject. The poor Champion blamed himself still for its fall, despite sacrificing everything to save its princess.

“We’re walking right into a trap,” said the Captain. “Normally I’d say to ignore it, but with lives at stake…”

“So we spring the trap?” Wind asked with a bounce in his step. “I’d like to see the look on their faces when nine heroes burst through the front door!”

“I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy Wind,” said Time. “I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever, or whatever is behind this, knows we’re coming.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting,” the Sailor replied. “Whoever they be, they’re gonna be in for a bad time!”

Read More :3

[bubble-booty-valkyrie]

Nora seeing Stud!Yang approach, his Semblance active and undoing his belt.

"Heh, I am Scaroused!!!"

This was supposed to be small, but I got carried away, a good little chaser for the next Weiss thing I guess~! Enjoy~!

---

Yang's gauntlet covered fist slammed down into the face of the white fang grunt with the force of a semi-truck, destroying the mask underneath his hand like a glass plate shattering against the ground, a sound that was as satisfying to him as it was cringe and sympathy pain inducing to anyone watching.

Yang was taught by his dad that it wasn't right to hit a woman, but you had to do what you had to do as a Huntsmen. And frankly, he thinks his dad wouldn't mind this time.

The woman in question he just laid the fuck out was almost twice his size, faded black stripes across her body like birthmarks and a set of feline like ears showed him the woman was something like a tiger. Whatever, he didn't care. Her head thudded against the pavement, her aura tanking the hit, and the force making her blackout.

Normally someone of this size against a person of her size meant a clear strength advantage, especially when she was visibly muscular, hot he'd say. But Yang wasn't a normal guy, and people didn't normally walk away from denting his fucking car.

Aura flooded his body the moment she through some poor guy into the side, they were robbing a dust store, or something, he didn't care, the guy ran when he was suddenly stuck between a 7-8 foot tall busty tigress and a 6'5 flaming guy screaming with rage. Her size meant nothing, he'd smashed Atlesian robots three times her size. He would have liked to see the look on her face behind the mask when he suddenly through her over his shoulder and slammed her down like nothing.

Someone her size wouldn't have been used to being manhandled so carelessly. Semblances were always a wild card. Something no one could predict, you just had to roll with the punches. Yang may have been dumb when it came to book smarts, never cared for it, but he was close to Pyrrha when it came to pure skill, but she'd always edge out ahead, she was just too good.

Yangs furious huffing came out in steamy breaths as his blood boiled, eyes glowing red and his flaming hair lighting up the darkened street, looking up at his car, it was a small dent, but a dent. The paint chipped off and his carefully cared for car looked like shit from this angle. His dad was right, his semblance was a glorified temper tantrum. Fuck.

"Hehehehe~! Scary~!" Yang realized he was still straddling the woman below him, arms still poised to hammer blows down more. But he wasn't going to, she was done. The police were on their way now.

Nora skipped happily into his vision as she got up to his car, bent over, and inspected the damage herself. He looked back, there were more White Fang, he just didn't care, focused only on the big one.

Three guys looked like hammered shit, passed out and maybe one had a broken arm, maybe because Nora's mallet was enough to crush most people, even him if she could hit him. Ouch.

"Aawwww!!" Nora whined and Yang looked back at her, his eyes catching before they reached his car. Nora was bent over at the waist, deeply bent over, not even caring her already hyper-miniskirt was hiked up so high he could see her fat ass clear as day pointed right at him, those massive fucking cheeks like two waterbeds wobbling and jiggling as she wiggled her hips curiously.

A night on the town, a few drinks, a dance at a club, Nora offered, Yang accepted. Nora showed up dressed to the nines, no doubt to shake her ass on the dancefloor, and that she did, twerking on him all night in the classically airheaded Nora fashion, she knew she was teasing, she knew she was twerking like a slut, but somehow she saw nothing wrong with it.

What he hadn't noticed in the dark building was the fact she wasn't wearing a thong, she was wearing something far sluttier.

The panties had a thin strip of fabric that covered her little quim easily, the pink panties going up from there but splitting off into two strings that squished and squeezed against her bubble booty tightly as they held onto that fucking wobbly dumptruck for dear life, up and over her wide breeding hips and down back to the fabric beneath.

But that meant nothing was covering her little pink asshole, the tiny pucker perfectly displayed between her cheeks as she bent over. Panties literally made for easy anal access. That little fucking whore.

Yang felt the need burn inside of him, and knowing Nora, it may have actually been her plan. He didn't know. He didn't care.

"It's broken.." Nora frowned and played with his broken side mirror, he didn't even notice it, but it made his blood boil more, eyes burning angry red as he suddenly stood up and grabbed his belt buckle, the metal clank echoing loudly as Nora looked back over her fat butt curiously, before her eyes went down to his hands, and she saw his burning hot rage and desire to fuck that fat slutty ass.

"Oopsie~!" Nora smiled cutely, lewdly, mischievously, all at once, dropping his snapped off mirror and making it shatter further while swaying that giant set of pillowy poundcakes side to side. The further damage to his baby was all he needed.

--

"Ah~!! Ahh~!! AAhahaa~!!! Ahh~!! AH~!! Ahh~!! M-More~!! Break my butt~!! Ghhhuuuaaaahhh~!!"

The entire yellow and black muscle car rocked violently as the girl bent over the hood squealed and screamed like a whore, her hands pressed firmly against the hood as the hand on the back of her neck slammed her face down into the cold metal, her little nippled pressed against the icy cold paint and her tongue hanging out dumbly.

Yang's teeth grit and ground as he violently smashed another pretty thing in his anger, his open palm coming crashing down onto those meaty, sweat slick, rippling fuckmeat cheeks of the braindead Valkyrie while his other held her down to make sure she couldn't move until he was finished with her vice grip like asshole.

"You fucking cheap, braindead, anal addicted whore!!" Yang snarled and growled, fire practically erupting from his mouth as he turned up the heat, literally. Steam and fire poured off his body in the cold air, and no doubt filled Nora to the brim with oven like heat as his hips crashed against hers.

The entire car rocked so violently he could hear it squeak, but he didn't care, he only focused on those sweaty, rippling ass cheeks clapping off his hips! Every single thrust sounded like thunder echoing in the street, her mountainous asscheeks rippled like water balloons with every single thrust, wobbling and jiggling around his cock, made eve worse by his hand viciously slapping her ass and leaving a nice harsh red handprint on her pale flesh.

Other would have called his pace and roughness too brutal, to hard, to violent, but Nora was built different, she could take it, take it like a whore.

"Yeeessshhhh~!! Fuck me Daddy~!! Break my slutty fuckhole~!!!" Yang's eyes burned red, he could only hear her slutty screams and squeals for more, her asshole was so hot and squeezed so tightly, it was a battle for every inch getting in and out, but he slam fucked that little sore asshole till her legs were shaking with strain and burning muscles, sweat dripping down her body in the cold air.

Switching his hand to her hair, Yang gripped the orange locks like a handle, yanking her back and arching her back viciously, but she could take it, her fat perky tits bounced in the open air as she was yanked back, her tongue hanging out and dripping with spit, her eyes rolling up in her head.

"AAH~!! Ah Ah AH AHA AHA AH AH AH~!!!" Tears poured down the slutty Valkyrie's face as she squirted across her thighs, his nuts slapping against her pussy as he slammed in all the way to the base.

"This was your fucking plan the whole time!! Wasn't it?! Nothing but a set of fucking holes, you just wanted to get used like a fuckdoll!!" The harsh, wet, clapping was getting harder, louder, faster, he was livid, and he had the perfect little fuckhole to take out all his anger on, he could break her and be fine, she wanted it, she wanted to be broken.

His hands suddenly shot to her neck, strong, calloused fingers wrapping around both sides of her throat as he ripped her away from the car, slamming her tiny body against the pavement below and jackhammering his cock down into her asshole from above, keeping her face down, ass up, as he he plowed balls deep into her fat, rippling cheeks, the sweaty cleft of her wrapped around his cock as he split her in two.

"HHGGKKK~!!! YESH~!! I JUSH WANNA BE A SHET OF FUCK HOLSH~!!" Nora wasn't shy, he knew she dreamed of being a walking cumdumpster, and it made him steel fucking hard. Hs hands squeezed brutally around her throat, and he could feel her clench around his cock harder, and in turn, he fucked her twice as hard, so hard he could see the pavement under them crack, her ass clapping so loud he knew people all over could hear it, as well as her squeals.

"FUCK!!!" Yang slammed do hard into her asshole he knew he was going to be sore in the morning, and so was she, but he couldn't stop watching those rippling waterbeds clap and jiggle around his fuckstick, but whether he wanted to or not, he couldn't stop the clenching of his balls as he suddenly flooded her asshole with his almost boiling hot cum, cock clenching over and over as shot after shot spilled into her and painted her insides white.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH~!!! YESH DADDY~!!" But he didn't stop, he kept pounding into her till his cum squirted out around his dick, until he physically couldn't take the sore pleasure, and his cock was yanked out too far, springing out of her hole and slapping down between her cheeks for him to spray the last few loads onto her fat ass. Painting her cheeks with his seed, staining her miniskirt as those strings of creamy nut dripped and coated her sweaty cheeks wonderfully.

Yang huffed and panted as his hair finally calmed down, snuffing out the flames and his usual lilac eyes returned, sweat dripping from his body as Nora laid there, fucked stupid, eyes still rolled up in her head as nut squirted out of her gaping, well fucked asshole, his hands gently letting go but leaving a nice red ring from where he strangled her.

"Fucking.. hell.." Yang huffed and gasped, hell of a way to calm down, that's for sure. "Ha.. Haha.. You good Nora?" He grinned, looking down at his handy work.

Nora's ass was still covered in sweat and cum, underneath was his red handprints, her eyes rolled up as she sat there broken. She looked like she was in heaven, a big slutty smile on her face.

"Th-Thank you Daddy~!" Oh yeah, she was fine.

---

Yang sat in his car, burger in hand as he looked out over the city, sure his car was still fucked, but he could fix it. Gotta take things into perspective sometimes. Not get so mad. Enjoy the little things.

Well, the redhead currently choking on his cock, bent over on all fours on the seat, slurping, sloppy sucking, and gagging on his musky, sweaty dick certainly helped calm him down.

"Your food is gonna get cold." He added, biting his burger but grabbing her head and slamming her throat down onto his cock till her lips kissed his nuts.

"Mmmmmmmhhhhh~!!" She didn't seem to mind.

[koqabear]

GAWWDDD LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER DESTROYED MEEEEE

i was rooting for soobin the whole time and his betrayal and giving into his primal urges just cuts me so deep like when she's getting fucked by gyu and she looks into soobin's eyes and it's the first time he's ever looked at her like prey.... mic drop hardest fuckin line to ever im a mess

i love love love darker fics from u sm like the smut always gotta be the hottest feral heat inducing stuff ever but is this okay?? like should i enjoy this?? 😭 still feel bad for mc when she woke up omg poor baby

OH absolutely adore how u write the freeze fear response in a prey hybrid mc god that was insane, like even before gyu got to her i felt that rush of adrenaline and the tension!! ugh how do u write them so good anw the part where mc's so frightened she literally submits and presents herself 🤯 blended my brain i fear

ALSO WHN GYU CALLED SOOBIN A GOOD DOG!!!!! AAAAAAAA UR CRAZYYY!!!!! 💥💥💥 gyu's insane in this he literally drove mc to submission in pure fear and basically brainwash soobin into following orders like ugh i im obsessed im in distress

u said that ur not letting us forget they're hybrids AND U DELIVERED!!!! tbh there's so many hybrid aus that's just ears and tails but u went deep in it, make them actually animals with instincts and behaviors (i sound like a furry omg 😭)

also kinda off track but the way mc's so naive and independent like yeah no it's fine ik the woods i'll be fine alone ^_^ and soobin's like babe ur a prey hybrid reminds me a lot of the trend of ppl posting their pets w proof they won't survive in the wild 💀

HIIII i’m super sorry that i took so long to answer this (but when do i ever answer asks on time 😕) BUT THANK YOUUUU SO MUCH!!! i love ltts so much it’s seriously one of my fav fics i’ve written so far and. your review literally means everything to me

(the rest is under the cut ! 🫶)

AGH THANK YOU THANK YOU it makes me so giddy to see that you liked that internal conflict as much as i did… like the build up to it was so intense and as soon as i wrote that “im sorry.” line i had to do a victory lap bc damn!! i really liked how soobin’s character turned out!!! (thank you sm for noticing that detail mwah) 

SHOULD YOU ENJOY THIS HAHAHASSDKLGGKH 

i mean….! that’s kind of the appeal of dark fics for me personally… if it’s written well enough it’ll make you question everything. but again thank you hehe i will be honest and say that i like to take pride in my dark fics 🤗

AHHHHH im happy you pointed that out !! my favorite thing about hybrid aus that i don’t think people take advantage of is all the new and heightened senses they have… im insane and i loved leaning into it and making it aide the characterization and idk. very happy you enjoyed it 🫶 (and if you sound like a furry… what does that make me… /j)

beomgyu master manipulator >>> i had a little too much fun with the name callings, can you tell…. is it obvious…. he is feral and insane and will do anything to get his way. my favorite ! 

I THINK I KNOW WHAT TREND UR TALKING ABOUT LMFAOOO and you’re so right too…. this poor mc was just unfortunately too trusting and naive for her own good :(

and if i say that im so in love with ltts that i feel like i could……. add more to it….?