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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

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Infestation, Oppression, Possession - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You warn Eddie about playing with a Ouija board, too bad he doesn’t listen.

Note: As a horror movie junkie, my personal favorites are the possession ones (esp The Conjuring, where the title of this comes from) so here’s a little Halloween horror starring Eddie

Warnings: playing with ouija board, possession, general spookiness because tis the season

Words: 2.7k

“Please promise me that you won’t play with it,” you beg your boyfriend. “They’re dangerous.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Babe, it’s just a piece of wood with some paint on it. How could it be dangerous?”

You eye the Ouija board sitting on his bed, the planchette inconspicuously resting on top of it. There are no shortage of horror stories and cautionary tales warning people away from playing with such a dangerous game. You’ve spent the better part of the last hour relating these worries to Eddie, who seems to think nothing of them at all–or about the fact that he bought it to begin with. It doesn’t seem to matter how much the whole thing bothers you.

“You never know who or what you’re communicating with,” you tell Eddie. “You could be opening a portal for something evil.” “So, you think a demon is going to decide to come here to little ol’ Hawkins? And will want to possess me? I’m flattered.” Eddie raises his eyebrows and lets out a small chuckle. A groan slips from your lips as you rub your hands over your face in aggravation.

“Just…please,” you beg as you stand up from where you’re perched on Eddie’s amp. “For me? Just throw it out.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says as he takes a few steps over to you. He places his hands on your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Relax, okay? I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you just–”

“Baby,” Eddie interrupts you. “Go to work, okay? I promise I’ll put it away.”

“You should throw it away,” you say sternly. “Or burn it. You’d have fun doing that, I know.”

Eddie chuckles and presses another kiss to your head. He slips his arms around you and tugs you against his chest. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just go to work and try and forget all about it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, pulling out of his arms. “Serving greasy burgers to angry truckers is really going to take a load off my mind.”

Calloused fingers gently grip your chin and tilt your head up. Soft but chapped lips press against your own and you close your eyes as you lean into the kiss.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers against your mouth.

“I love you, too.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” Eddie assures you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early with two coffees.”

“Make sure you don’t drink half of mine before you get to my house this time,” you say as you swipe one of your boyfriend’s hoodies from where it’s sprawled across his desk.

“No promises,” Eddie tells you as you slip the sweatshirt on over your head.

You press one last kiss to his lips, avoiding looking at the devil board on his bed, before heading out to work.

Eddie huffs a laugh to himself once you’ve left. He’s surprised that you’re so worried about the Ouija board. Usually, you’re so cool and collected, always logical and tactful in your way of thinking. It’s not like you to believe in some silly superstition. Maybe it’s just getting too close to Halloween, Eddie thinks as he picks up the board and planchette. Corroded Coffin should be by in about twenty minutes for a songwriting session, but first, Eddie thinks, perhaps the guys will have some fun and try to scare one another.

The next night, Eddie’s lounging on his bed, guitar perched on his lap as he strums a few new chords that the band came up with last night. His amp is on since Wayne isn’t home, turned down just enough so the neighbors won’t complain. Fingers glide over the strings as Eddie plays around with the sounds of a possible new song. A beautiful melody flows to meet Eddie’s ears, but the moment he lets his eyes slip closed to lose himself in the music, the amp cuts out.

The sudden silence has Eddie sitting up and frowning at the amp in confusion. Gently setting his sweetheart down on the bed, he leans over to fiddle with the controls on the amp. It’s still turned on, all the dials are set just as they should be, so why did it go quiet? Eddie pushes himself off the bed to make sure the plug hasn’t come loose. A deeper frown etches on Eddie’s forehead as he sees the plug snugly in place in the outlet.

“Stupid old trailer,” Eddie grumbles as he gets down on his knees. “God damn electric problems.”

The outlet above the one the amp is plugged into has Eddie’s lamp connected to it–the same lamp that’s currently on and shining brightly next to his bed. Yanking both cords from the wall, Eddie tries putting the lamp’s plug into the bottom outlet, just to make sure that’s what isn’t working. The moment the prongs snap into the wall though, the light illuminates his dark room again.

“What the fuck,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He switches the lamp back to the top outlet and puts the amp back into the bottom one. “This amp is new, what the hell? Stupid piece of–”

Earsplitting feedback abruptly rings out through the amp, causing Eddie to fall back on his ass and cover his ears. Heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, Eddie stares at the amp with wide eyes. The racket only lasts five seconds, but it’s enough to freak Eddie out.

“O-Okay…” Eddie says as he pushes himself back to his feet. The room is quiet once again. The lamp is on, his guitar is still nestled against his pillow, and the amp sits there inconspicuously on the stained carpet.

“Jesus, this place is a shithole,” Eddie says, trying to convince himself it’s just some faulty wiring in his old home. He sits back down on his bed and the moment he grips the neck of his sweetheart, the bleating sound of the phone ringing in the hallway has him jumping out of his skin. Once his mind registers what the new noise is, Eddie laughs at himself as he sets his guitar back down and heads toward the phone. “You’re a wuss, Munson. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, keep your pants on. Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie,” your cheerful voice greets through the phone.

“Hi, babe. Hmm, I take back what I just said then.”

“What?” you ask.

“I told whoever was on the phone to keep their pants on as I walked down the hall. I take that back now.” You can practically hear the smirk on your boyfriend’s face.

“Who said I’m even wearing any?” you tease.

“I’m listening.”

The mystery of the faulty sound equipment quickly fades from Eddie’s head.

Eddie huffs as he uses a flashlight to look through the pantry. The damn lights in the trailer are flickering like crazy and it’s driving Eddie up the wall. At first, he’d thought it was just the lights in his room, but it seemed to follow him down the hall and into the living room as well.

Searching for something to eat, the aggravation only hits a new high when the flashlight in Eddie’s hands also starts flickering.

“Okay, what the actual fuck?” Eddie demands. He bangs the flashlight against his palm and the beam becomes steady once more. “Thank you.”

As if the lights heard his pleasure, they all turn off at once–even the flashlight.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie shouts. The darkness comes on so quickly that Eddie’s eyes take their sweet time adjusting. He bangs his head on a cabinet as he shuffles out of the kitchen. Like someone flipped a switch, the lights come on all at once–even ones that weren’t turned on before. The sudden brightness burns Eddie’s eyes, and he drops the flashlight to cover them. Slowly, the lights fade back to their usual strength and Eddie is able to open his eyes without pain. He blinks them a few times, still getting them to adjust to the brightness when the front door opens and Wayne steps inside.

The older man shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a hook near the door. He eyes Eddie where he stands, eyes watering from how sensitive they are right now.

“What’s with you, boy?” Wayne asks.

“Did you pay the electric bill?” Eddie asks in return, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“‘Course I did. Why?”

“Because these damn lights are going crazy,” Eddie says, flinging one hand in the direction of the nearest lamp. “Just wait, they’ve been flickering for an hour now.”

Wayne stands near the door with his hands on his hips, looking around the room at the different lights that are on. Eddie squares his jaw when not even one little flicker occurs.

“Smoke a little too much tonight?” Wayne asks with a chuckle as he walks past his nephew and into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even…ugh, never mind.”

“You want a grilled cheese?” Wayne asks, opening the fridge.

“Sure. Thanks.” Eddie plops down on the couch and stares at the ceiling. The lights had been going crazy–right?

“Did you sleep at all last night?” you ask Eddie at lunch.

Dull brown eyes slide over to you, dark bag eyes beneath them puffy and prevalent, and seem as if they look right through you.

“A little,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Gareth says.

The Dungeon Master raises his hand to flip off his friend while he lowers his head down to the lunch table. He felt like shit too, but he wouldn’t give his friends the satisfaction of knowing that.

Over the next few days, Eddie only looks worse and worse. His face begins to look drawn, his skin a sickly shade of greenish gray. His clothes are more unkempt and wrinkled than normal, appearing as if he’d slept in them the night before. Every morning on the way to school you’d try to get out the knots that had accumulated in your boyfriend’s hair during the night. There hadn’t been a time when his hair had been this much of a pain before. Eventually, you just slip your red scrunchie from your wrist and tie his hair into a ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Are we getting pizza tonight?” you ask as Eddie parks his van in the Hawkins High parking lot.

“Babe, I’m not even going to Hellfire tonight,” he tells you, all emotion zapped from his voice.

“You’re not going to Hellfire?” you ask in shock.

“No,” Eddie grumbles as he pulls the keys from the ignition.

“Why don’t you just go home, baby?” you suggest as you reach over and move a few loose strands of hair out of his face.

“Maybe.” Eddie gives a half-hearted shrug and shoves the van door open and slides out. Frown still pinched on your face, you follow him out and stick by his side as long as you can until you have to go to your separate first periods.

Your phone rings as you’re buttoning your jeans the next morning, and you hop over to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” There’s no energy in Eddie’s voice, the sound raspy and gravelly. “I can’t take you to school today. Not getting out of bed.”

“Aww, baby,” you coo. “I’m going to come over and take care of you. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“No,” Eddie responds. “You’ve got a test today, go to school.”

“Can’t hear you. I’m coming over. Bye.” You hang up before he can protest again; because you know he will. Eddie’s hoodie from the other week is still hanging over the chair in your room so you toss it on before heading out the door to your car.

Eddie looks as shitty as he sounded when you get to his place. He’s sprawled out in bed, the covers tucked up under his chin and his eyes half-lidded as he tries to focus on you. You sigh as you sit down on the edge of his bed. When you reach up and move some hair off of his forehead you feel that his skin is surprisingly cool against your fingertips. You’d expected heat there–most likely a fever raging inside of his body.

“Are you cold?” you ask. Eddie nods, seeming like he hardly has the energy for even that. “I’ll get you another blanket.”

The room feels chilly to you as well, but not enough to warrant two heavy blankets being piled atop of you. Something is definitely going on inside of his body. As you open Eddie’s closet to grab another blanket, your eyes land on the Ouija board sitting on top of a pile of dirty clothes. The room suddenly feels hot as your temper flares. Anger builds up in your chest and your nostrils flare as you snatch up a blanket. Spinning around to face Eddie again, you stomp over to him.

“What the hell, Eddie? Why is the Ouija board still here?” you demand.

Eddie groans and turns his head to bury it in his pillow.

“Talk quieter, please,” he begs.

“Answer. Me.” Despite your anger, you’re not heartless. You lower your volume as you shake out the blanket and lay it across your boyfriend’s body. “Did you play with it?”

The guilty look that crosses his face gives you his answer before he opens his mouth to croak out, “Yes.”

“Eddie,” you whine, running your hands over your hair. “What if that’s what’s wrong?” You gesture to him lying down on his bed, lethargic and exhausted.

“Stop,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed. “M’just getting sick. Or worn down.”

“But you don’t know–”

“Babe, calm down,” Eddie begs, trying to inject as much fervor into his voice as he can. “It’s not from some dumb game. That’s ridiculous.”

The only reason you bite your tongue is because he looks so miserable bundled up in the middle of his bed. Deciding to let it go for now, you sit down next to his head and card your fingers through his curls.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask him softly.

“Just you,” Eddie answers, mustering up a small smile to give you.

As you lean down to press another kiss to his forehead, you swear he feels even colder than he did a few minutes ago.

Eddie still isn’t back to himself the next week. In fact, he says he feels worse. You weren’t able to take the whole time off from school or work, but any moment that wasn’t spent somewhere you were obligated to be, you were at his side. He refused to go to the doctor and even Wayne couldn’t get him to go. It seems the shittier Eddie feels the more stubborn he is.

On Thursday, you don’t have work, so you head to Eddie’s place straight from school. He hasn’t been able to answer the door since he’s been staying in bed most of the time, so you just let yourself inside as usual.

“I’m here, Eddie,” you call out, not too loud though, in case he’s asleep. Your sneakers join the small pile of shoes near the front door, and you pad down the hallway to your boyfriend’s room. Confusion furrows your brow when you don’t see him in his bed. A glance behind you confirms that he’s not in the bathroom, so where else could he be? You take a few steps into his room and spot Eddie standing near the closet, his back to you. His back is straight as a rod and his stained Marlboro shirt and blue plaid pajama pants hang loose on his thin frame, even thinner from lack of food lately.

Cautiously, you take a few steps in his direction. The hair on the back of your neck is raised but you’re not sure why. It’s just your boyfriend.

“Eddie?” you ask timidly. “Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed? Eddie?”

A few heavy silent moments hang in the air. Then with a sudden sickening cracking sound, Eddie’s head snaps towards you. With a gasp, you take a step back. His eyes are entirely black. No trace of the dark brown that you love so much or the white that should be there. Pure black, darker than night. A sinister, toothy smile slides onto the mouth you’ve kissed so many times before. Your body trembles from the inside out as you stare in horror at whatever you’re witnessing in front of you. Eddie’s mouth opens, but the growling voice that comes out does not belong to him.

“Eddie isn’t here anymore.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine

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mediocre-writerr · 2 years ago

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hiii!!! Congratulations on 2k! Can i request a wandaxfem!reader where r feels like wanda doesn't love her the same way she does. then r gets terribly injured in a mission and all her insecurities washes away when she wakes up in the med bay with wanda holding her hand... “i’ll be fine for tonight with you by my side, but don’t you know you’re my lifeline) - (lifeline, joshua bassett)

lifeline [wanda maximoff]

warnings: stab wounds, explosion, mentions of breathing tubes, mentions of hospitals, slight mention of throwing up, a few curse words, tried to be accurate, but probably inaccurate medical terminology and scenarios

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

*not my gif*

“Nat?” Wanda asks. Her phone pressed against her cheek as she stirred dinner for the rest of the team.

She could hear the sounds of beeping and mumbling from the other line. The ex-assassin clears her throat, “Wanda something happened on the mission,” her heart dropped into the pits of her stomach. “Y/N got injured…really bad, actually. Her injuries are so severe that Fury recommended we go straight to the hospital. We had to take her to hospitall. I think you should fly out here as soon as you can.”

There was a pause of silence. Neither of the two girls really know what to say. Wanda’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to find words. Nat cleared her throat again, “You may want to hurry. Doc said she may only have twelve hours.” Natasha’s voice cracking rings in the witch’s ears.

All of a sudden the phone felt heavy, like she was holding the weight of five elephants in the palm of her hand. The phone crashed onto the floor with a soft thump, catching the attention of Clint and Steve who were setting up the table for dinner. Their eyes land on the distressed girl, “Wanda? What happened?” Steve asked, stepping hesitantly closer to her. His blue eyes searching her green ones, trying to read what had just happened.

The girl couldn’t form words though. Her throat felt tight as tears started to build like towers. Clint picked the phone from off the floor, hearing Nat’s voice speak muffled against the line, “Nat? What’s going on?” His confused expression slowly turns into an urgency as he looks at his Captain. He hangs up the phone quickly, “Steve get the quinjet ready, we need to go. Now.”

Clint wrapped the younger Avenger into his arms, holding her tighter than ever before, “She’s going to be okay.”

It was a simple mission, really, to stake out the Hydra infested warehouse, once it's empty, get in there and steal intel. A mission you and Nat have done countless times. You should’ve known that it would end in disaster when you thought to yourself ‘Oh this is easy! I could be home for dinner!’ Whenever someone says that, it never ends well.

The warehouse was set up in a series of buildings, so it was hard to tell if it was fully cleared. Maybe that’s how you should’ve known it wasn’t going to end well. But honestly, during the stakeout you were falling asleep at the wheel. Your best friend’s arm nudged your side with her elbow, “Usually you’re bouncing off the walls, annoying the crap out of me. What gives?”

You rub your eyes, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “Wanda and I had this huge fight before I left,” you let out a soft sigh, crossing your arms over your cloth and spandex mashed suit.

Natasha’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “But you never leave each other on a sour note before a mission.”

You nod, letting out a soft sigh, “I know hence why I could not get any sleep on the way over here.”

“Are you guys okay?”

“No, I don’t know. I hope so. It was a pretty rough one. So rough that we didn’t even say goodbye to one another before I left. ”

She squeezes your shoulder, “Do you want to talk about it?” Which you just merely shook your head in response. It wasn’t something you wanted ingrained in your head as you were about to fight loads of Hydra agents, “Alright, well, let’s just hope you don’t have a web block when we’re in there. I know how you get when the two of you fight. Now c’mon let’s get in, so we can get home for dinner!”

You throw on your mask, opening your arms up for the Russian, “C’mon little spider,” she rolls her eyes at you. Muttering under her breath about how your powers are literally ones of a spider before she clung onto you, as you swung the two of you onto the roof of the warehouse.

The warehouse was huge, as you and Nat snuck in through the air ducts. You and Nat glance at each other, already discussing earlier how you want to split up the search. She extends her hand out for the two of you to do your secret handshake, in your own way telling one another to be safe, before she splits in the opposite direction from you.

Towards the back of the building, there was one of these hallways leading you into the next building over, so you quickly made your way through. You froze in your spot, your spidey senses tingling, and you could feel someone’s presence around you. Before you could dodge out of the way, the HYDRA agent launched himself at you, tackling you into the crates behind you, pain shooting through your spine. The shock of the attack paralyzed you for a second, before your spidey senses kicked in and you dodged the punch that was coming. You kicked the agent square in the chest, lifting yourself up in the process.

From the corner of your eye you could see a bomb strapped onto one of the SHIELD agents who recently joined, pressing your finger to your ear piece, “Nat! There’s a bomb! They knew we were coming! You need to get out of here!”

“There is no way I am leaving you!” She shouts, “Where in the warehouse are you? I’ll get to you!”

A sharp pain shot through your body, as the HYDRA agent pulled a knife out your side. You let out a yelp in pain before you webbed him onto the wall, “Y/N! What was that noise?!” Nat yells.

You shook your head even though she couldn’t see you, “Never mind that! Call Fury, tell him we need someone who can disarm this. There’s an agent strapped to it,” you rushed over to the panicked agent with his mouth covered in duct tape. Inspecting the wires and the time that read 4 hours, you didn’t notice the way he was thrashing about, like he was trying to warn you about something.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise filled your ears, causing you to flinch back. The red numbers, quickly turning to 30 seconds. Your eyes flickered to the trapped HYDRA agent who had the explosive trigger in his hand and a smug smirk on his face, “Hail Hydra,” he repeated, resting his head against the wall as he accepted his fate.

“Nat! You need to go now! Run! Please!” you frantically looked at the wires, trying to figure out how to disarm it. The SHIELD agent in front of you sobbing as he shook his head, looking at the time.

“You need to go too, Y/L/N!” Nat screamed into your ear piece., “Please, Wanda will never forgive me if you blow up right now! I will never forgive you!”

You pulled off the agent’s duct tape, “Hey! I need you to take a breath for me!” you rushed out, trying to get his attention, “Do you know how to stop this thing?” He shook his head frantically.

20 seconds.

“Alright, well I’m going to get this off of you and we’re going to get out of here together!” you quickly tried to untie the ropes that surrounded his wrists, mentally cursing yourself for not bringing a weapon other than your webs. Your side became more and more painful, but you needed to get both of you out of here.

15 seconds.

You frantically start to rip off all the duct tape that strapped the bomb to his clothing, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” you muttered to yourself over and over again.

“Y/N! I’m coming to you! Where are you?!” Nat’s insistent screaming in your ear piece only causes your heart to race more. You rip the bomb off of him and he exhales out a sigh of relief, as he stands up next to you, but immediately falls onto the ground.

You didn’t even notice the way his legs are bruised and broken, most likely from all the torture he endured from HYDRA. You wrap his arm around your shoulders, lifting him up with all the strength you can.

10 seconds.

In the corner of your eye, you notice how fast the clock was trying to tick down. The pressure of him leaning against your little wound caused you to hiss out in pain. You scramble towards the hallway, desperate to try and get out of this side of the warehouse. Your vision slowly became more blurry, yet the sight of your own blood staining your torn suit was so vivid.

4 seconds.

You hadn’t been able to get very far, even though it felt like you were miles away from the secluded corner. You had barely made it out of the room it was trapped in. It was as if a lightbulb went off in your head, and you stopped in your tracks. “What are you doing?!” your fellow agent yells at you, “Why are we stopping?!”

“There’s no way we can escape the bomb in time, but I can try and limit the explosion,” you tell him, trying to explain as calmly as possible.

You turn your bodies around, extending your wrists toward the bomb in the corner. You shoot your web…but nothing comes out. You flick your wrist again and again and again. Each time growing more frantic.

“You’re joking!” you exclaimed.

3 seconds.

“What?! What’s going on?!” the agent yelled.

You shook your head, “Forget that idea! We need to leave now!”

The two of you turned back around and you tried to run towards the end of the hallway as fast as you could. Ignoring the burning pain in your side and the weight of his body against yours. But it was too late.

It was the loudest thing you had ever heard. The echoing boom rang in your ears, as you collapsed onto the other side of the warehouse, as debris started falling all around you. Everything felt too bright as a hot stinging pain ripped through your whole body. You tried to get up, but felt a sharp sting in your leg. A piece of rubble that was on fire rested on the top of your leg, too heavy to move it out. Your eyes fluttered open and closed, slowly becoming heavier and heavier. A thick liquid pooled from underneath you. Nat’s red hair came into your blurry view.

Nat let out a soft gasp as she noticed how part of your face was burnt, “Hey Y/N, come on keep your eyes open for me, okay? The ambulance and the fire department are here. They’re gonna get you out of here,” she whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. But her rare soft voice did the exact opposite as it made your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

When the firemen got you out of there, you were hardly alive. Your breathing could barely be seen or felt, your throat and lungs burnt that you could barely inhale any air. Your heartbeat was irregular and often skipped. Your spandex suit was burned into your flesh and it was surprising that you could even be recognized by how severe some of your burns are.

Honestly, it was a miracle that you were still alive. Something the paramedics and firemen could barely understand.

Nat could barely look at you, she tried her hardest to stay strong, but an overwhelming sense of fear seeped into her bloodstream. While the paramedics struggled to keep you stable on the helicopter, Nat let tears fall onto her lap, looking out at the view. Only looking at you when a deafening beeping sound could be heard, right before you landed.

Your heart stopped beating.

Wanda’s knee bounced up and down all throughout the flight in the quinjet. Natasha hasn’t been giving them updates, there wasn’t much to give after she called you.

They managed to stabilize you, but it was all about if you were going to survive the night. Joining the Avengers came with loads of paperwork. One of them being, what would you want if you had extreme injuries. Basically a DNR form. You were indecisive, so you wrote out what you wanted. If something were to happen to you, you give the doctors 24 hours to do all they could, and if it didn’t work, well that’s when you call it quits.

SHIELD actually follows it very well, like the agent you saved? He wanted them to do everything they could to keep him alive. Everything. He did not want them to stop trying. So, after the doctors managed to stabilize you, they tried to take you off the ventilator to see if you would breathe on your own, but you crashed. You couldn’t do it. That’s when the countdown began, if they couldn’t get you off and breathing by yourself in 12 hours, per your request you want them to pull it.

A muffled sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she thought more about it. In 12 hours, she could lose the love of her life and the last time she saw her ended poorly.

Wanda takes the elevator up to the tower. Her breath smelling slightly of alcohol from her spontaneous night out with Vision. The two have been on mission after mission lately, so Vision thought it would be nice to have a break. She was going to go straight to her room, but she figured it would be best to get an Advil and water in her before she regretted the drinks in the morning. The elevator dinged and she stumbled through it and to the kitchen, where she found you. You were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the moon through the window sill. A couple plates of food sat in front of you as you sipped slowly on a glass of wine.

“Love? What are you doing? It’s late,” Wanda asked, snaking her hands around your neck from behind. She flinched back as you stood up, looking at her with a hard glare that she has never been on the receiving end of, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Last week, you promised that we would have a date night for my birthday. You and I have been so busy with missions and training, so when you didn’t show, I just assumed that you were running late with training. Then hours ticked by, and our teammates would come in and look at me with such sympathetic eyes because they knew how much this meant to me because that was all I would talk about for the last week. Peter even came by with a cake and sad eyes because he heard about what happened,” you ranted to her and Wanda looked to the ground in shame. “Yesterday was my birthday Wanda. Yet, you go out with Vision! Of all fucking people! You didn’t wish me a happy birthday, you didn’t kiss me, you didn’t see me all day! All because you were with Vision! And we all know how much you love his attention!”

The words fell from your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying, Wanda’s shame quickly turned to defensiveness as she stared at your tear stained cheeks, “I may have forgotten your birthday and I’m sorry, but is this really about forgetting your birthday or is this about Vision? It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“Yes, I’m jealous Wanda! And I have every right to be! You and Vision have some sort of connection because of a fucking stone implanted into his head!” You scream.

She shook her head, “He’s my friend, Y/N! Am I not allowed to have friends?”

“I never fucking said that you can’t have friends! Jesus Wanda do you hear yourself?” you bring your voice down to a softer tone, realizing that a screaming match isn’t gonna help fix this, “You forgot my birthday…the Wanda I fell in love with would have never done that. I don’t ask much of you. I just want to spend a couple days with my girlfriend and for her to remember my birthday. All I wanted was a kiss from her and for her to tell me that she loves me, yet you haven’t said that to me a lot recently. Look, I’m going on a mission with Nat in a couple hours. While I’m gone, I guess just think if you really want to be with me still.”

And you walked away without another word.

Of course, Wanda loved you. It was just the fear of the unknown that has made her put a wall up between the two of you. Everything and everyone she has loved, she has lost. Her parents, Pietro, it was only a matter of time before she lost you too. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she loses you.

Wanda bursts into the waiting room, met by several confused eyes from the staff and patients. Steve and Clint followed right behind her, the two of them more rational than she was. They ask for your room number and as soon as she hears the answer she sprints down the hallways and straight to your room.

Natasha sat in the corner of the cold room, watching distantly, like she was off on another planet. She didn’t even notice the Sokovian bursting in. Wanda’s eyes flash to you, your frail body lying in bed. All the color was drained from your face and a burn lingered along your cheeks. She inspected you further, noticing the burns that lingered all over your body. The beeping from the machines echoes in her ears as a wave of nausea overcomes her at the sight of a tube stuck in your throat. All she wants is to hold you, but she’s afraid that if she does you’ll crumble.

She took a seat next to you carefully reaching for your hand. She wanted to tell you that she loved you, that she needed you, and that she was sorry, “Hey Wanda,” Nat finally came to her senses, noticing her teammate sitting next to you.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” her voice cracked, as hot tears blurred her vision.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t-“ Nat took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I couldn’t find her in time. I was trying to find her, to help her save the other SHIELD agent, but before I could, the bomb went off and she…I’m so sorry Wanda. I should’ve protected her. I couldn’t protect her.”

Wanda reaches for her hand, squeezing it, “It’s okay, Nat. You couldn’t have known,” Clint and Steve finally burst into the room. Clint immediately goes over to console his best friend, while Wanda turns her attention back onto you.

The doctor knocks on the door, giving all of you sympathetic smiles, “Hello everyone. Agent Y/L/N is in very critical condition. The injuries she endured have taken an enormous toll on her mental and physical health. It’s an absolute miracle that we were able to stabilize her. However, the burns and the stab wound are the least of our worries. The smoke inhalation caused her vocal chords to swell which may cause some permanent damage, but we had to do a tracheotomy to help her breathe.”

Wanda’s heart stopped, the reality and severity finally catching up to her. All of the things she dreamed of doing with you. The life you wanted to share with her. Another wave of nausea hit her like a freight train, “And per Agent Y/L/N’s paperwork with SHIELD, later tonight we’re going to try and see if she could breathe on her own and if not, she has asked us to pull the plug. If there’s anyone who’s not here, who you guys think would love to see her, I suggest calling them now,” he clears his throat, trying to stay professional. “I recommend trying to talk to her, coma induced patients tend to be more responsive when they hear their loved ones.”

With that, he leaves the room, a tense air filling the room once more. Steve clears his throat, ignoring the tears trying to swim in his ocean eyes, “I’m going to make some calls and ask if anyone would like to see Y/N. Tony will get them here as soon as possible.”

And just like that Avengers started swarming in like wildfire. Clint called Laura and brought the kids along with her, whenever Clint and Laura needed a date night you’d be there to help babysit the kids. So, to say you were an important part of the family was an understatement.

Tony and Pepper showed up with Peter. Tony and Bruce tried to talk to the doctor as much as they could, asking a million questions about what they’ve tried and what they haven’t tried to help your condition. Thor and Valkyrie even showed up from Asgard, just in case this was the last time they’d see you.

Wanda took a step back, allowing everyone who came to visit you to talk to you, to possibly say their goodbyes. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to you just yet. She watched as some people weren’t afraid to shed a tear, retelling some of their favorite memories with you. While others tried their best to stay strong, demanding you that you’d breathe on your own.

She watched as your room piled up with flowers in the worst way possible. Peter even brings you a small stuffed spider he got at the zoo. Her breathing became more uneven as she watched a usually strong Yelena shed a few tears for her chosen sister, Kate and Natasha, even having to console the younger Russian.

Wanda needed an out, she needed to get some air. Luckily, Bucky came around, “C’mon, let’s go for a walk. I think you need it.” The witch didn’t even hesitate as she just followed him through the door and out of the hospital. As soon as the cool air hit her face, she ran as quickly as she could to the nearby bush and started to empty whatever she had in her stomach.

Wiping the corner of her mouth, she sat next to Bucky on a nearby bench. Neither of them said anything and honestly it's what Wanda really needed. All Bucky did was rest his hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, before they sat and watched the cars zoom by.

They didn’t know how much time had passed before someone cleared their throat behind them. Steve had a sympathetic smile on his face, “Wanda, it’s almost time doctor said. If you wanna say something to her, now is the time.” Wanda turned to Bucky and he merely nodded in encouragement.

The Sokovian followed back to your room. Everyone must’ve gotten the message that Wanda was coming back, so they were all waiting in the waiting room when she walked in. She took the seat next to your bed, grasping your unusually cold hand.

“Y/N…” she trails off her voice immediately cracking, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I should’ve remembered your birthday. If you wake up, I promise I’ll remember everything. I’ll remember your beautiful eyes looking into mine, like we have our own secret club. I’ll remember the way you turn up the music on the weekend when I’m trying to sleep in and the way you’d jump on the bed and dance to wake me up. I’ll remember the way you’d squeeze my hand three times whenever you realize how anxious I’m getting or to just tell me that you love me.”

Her emerald eyes met the sea as tears filled them. She cupped your cold cheeks, smiling sadly, “I should’ve been honest with you and I should’ve just told you I was scared. I was scared to fall and lose you. But that does not beat how petrified I feel right now, Y/N. I prayed, Y/N. I never pray, I prayed to a God I stopped believing in when my parents were killed. I’m not saying goodbye to you, just yet. I just need you to know that no one else could ever save me, like you did. Not Vision. Not anyone else. You. You saved me and I can’t do this on my own. So, breathe Y/N. Please. You’re my lifeline.”

Yet another knock interrupted her thoughts as the doctor walked in. He smiled sympathetically with Steve, Clint, and Natasha right behind him. “It’s time,” he walks over to your bedside, throwing on gloves as he gets ready for extubation, “Just to explain what we’re looking for, if she can breathe on her own her breathing will look like she’s just sleeping. If her oxygen levels are normal, it means she’s okay. On the other hand, if she isn’t breathing on her own, she’d be gasping for air, and her mouth will be opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her oxygen levels will also be very low.”

All four of them nod, Nat grasping on to Wanda’s free hand, squeezing it tightly. The doctor slowly starts pulling out the tube and Wanda squeezes your hand three times, muttering a quiet please under her breath. All of them hold their own breath, which is ironic. Each one of them watches your chest rise and fall in anticipation.

For what felt like an eternity, the Sokovian felt a weak three squeezes come from your hand, causing her head to shoot up to look at your face. Your eyes flutter open as you stare into the eyes of the love of your life, “You made it,” she whispered under her breath and a tiny smile crossed your lips as you ran your thumb over the back of her hand.

“Hi Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you,” your doctor introduced himself. “We’re gonna recommend you can’t talk until directed to. We’re working on reducing the swelling in your vocal chords.”

You gesture for a pen and paper, your hands shaking slightly. He nodded, handing you a pen and a piece of paper before promising to check up on you later. In the scratchiest of handwriting, Wanda watched as you wrote a little note. A small gasp leaving her lips as you showed her, ‘You’re my lifeline too.’

Wanda rested her hand against your stomach as she cried happily into it. Your free hand that she wasn’t grasping reached for her head, running your fingers through her messy hair, in hopes to let her know that everything will be okay.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered to you.

And all you did was squeeze your hand three times.

#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #a mediocre 2k party

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sodamnradd · 1 year ago

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Hermione Granger was going to die on his operating table.

Fuck.

Draco paced the room and tried to ignore the ghostly girl lying unconscious a few feet away.

Potter was the only person keeping Draco here and, if Granger died under his care, it was all over. The Order would blame him for her death.

“What am I meant to do with you now?” he mumbled, glaring at his patient.

He touched Granger’s pulse and felt it fading. Her skin was cold and clammy. Even her hair seemed deflated, giving up the good fight.

There was no other way.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, feeling a flash of remorse for the fate he was bestowing on her. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall in love with me.”

The Order promoted Draco to main headquarters. He had his own room and went to bed with a full stomach every night. Sometimes, there was even beer.

But Draco would have slept in moth infested sheets again and eaten stale cereal for dinner every night if it meant staying away from her.

After her miraculous recovery, Granger visited him in the medical wing. Often.

The first time to thank him for saving her life. The second to borrow a book she spotted on his desk, swapping it for one of her own. The third to return his book and tell him about all the ways it had pissed her off. Before he knew it, she’d cajoled Draco into a war-time book club, reading all the books Granger bartered off other Order members.

She started confiding in him about odd things that were happening to her.

“It’s not my problem,” he cut her off, popping open his collar as the room grew three notches too hot.

“But you’re my healer.”

“I’m not your healer. I’m just a healer. A reluctant one. Your idiot friends won’t let me do much else.”

“Help me find out what’s wrong with me, and I’ll have them reassign you.”

“No.”

She was insufferably stubborn.

“See how I did that?” she asked one afternoon, squashing a fly with her palm and resuscitating it seconds later. “That’s odd.”

“That’s magic.” He feigned disinterest, swatting the irritating fly. “Couldn’t you have let it die?” Sometimes Draco wished he had.

“It’s like holding sand in my hands. I have a handful of seconds to decide whether to preserve its life or let it trickle out—Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m counting inventory.”

“Stuff your blasted inventory. This is serious!”

He made her concerns seem trivial, shooing her off and demanding she mind his office hours.

Yet she always came back, always wanted to hear his expert opinion on why Dark Magic was so easy now, why she was quicker than Harry at casting off Dementors, why she didn’t need her wand to perform magic anymore.

One evening she visited him, devastated. “Tell me why I can’t stand letting anyone touch me.”

Red mist filled Draco’s vision, noting her rumpled figure. The state of Granger’s hair was an old joke by now, but he could tell someone’s fingers had been raking through it. Her shirt was misbuttoned. She looked messy and fierce and unbearably debauched.

“It certainly looks like someone tried,” he mumbled, trying to choke down the emotion that rocked through his chest.

“Tell me, Malfoy.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Because you’re all I think about!” she exploded. Her face went crimson.

She cleared her throat. “I know my own body. You did something to me that night, didn’t you? When I was injured.”

She stormed forwards, poking him in the chest. “What did you do?”

He snatched her fingers in his fist. It was like he was pure whisky, and she an Incendio spell, set astray. “Fuck.” He dropped her hand at once.

Granger leapt away too, gasping. “Did that just…?”

“You almost died,” he said, physically restraining himself from reaching for her again. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Malfoy?” Her voice was little more than a croak, her eyes too wide and innocent. Looking at him like-like—

He had to look away. “I split my magical core and gave you half.”

“Like a Horcrux?”

“It wasn’t my soul. But magic is binding in its own way.”

“What do you mean binding?”

“As in, you can tap into it now. It’s yours.”

“So I have my own magic and half of yours?”

He shrugged.

Granger’s mouth fell agape. “How do I return it to you?”

“It’s irrevocable.”

Realisation dawned on her face. “So, all of this,” she wagged a finger between them, “is because of your spell?”

“There’s no ‘this’.” He repeated the gesture. “It’s you and it’s me. Separate.”

She shook her head. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not—”

“You looked like you wanted to commit murder when I walked in just then.”

He shifted his gaze, jaw clenching. “My magic recognizes itself in you. It’s… possessive.”

“And mine recognizes you,” she concluded. “It doesn’t like me being with anyone else. You knew this would happen?”

“Should I have let you die instead?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, and Draco tried not to wince. “Is this it, then? We’re bound to each other for the rest of our lives?”

He couldn’t stand looking at her anymore. Remorsefully, he replied, “This is it.”

(883 words, prompt: soulmates from @dhrmonth)

#sodamnrad #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione drabble #drabble #sodamnraddrabbles

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tourettesdog · 2 years ago

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DPxDC Dog Prompts

Here’s my collection of DPxDC prompts I’ve made, collected together!

Most of them lean towards Gotham/Batpham content, since that is where my own interests with the crossover are most prominent.

A lot of these prompts have had continuations and fics added in the notes! If you like one, I’d recommend checking to see if anyone’s done more with it.

I might reorganize these some other time, perhaps by length/type of prompt, etc, but for now it’s just roughly in order of when they were posted.

If any links are broken, tell me and I’ll see about finding the link!

Adopting a ghost (just a ghost, right?)

Oops yeah Vlad’s sus

We forgot the clone detail

Let’s try that summon again

Please let me help you’re gross

An electric core

You summoned me so I’m your problem

Halfa (not that he noticed)

Dani and Haly’s Circus

Batman’s a ghost, right?

An anchor to the Zone

Accidentally raising Batman’s son

Stuck in Gotham, losing even more

John Constantine’s accidental trip

A sick trail

Too spooky no thanks

Blood Blossoms across Gotham

Trying to sneeze a way home

Accidental twin(?) acquisition

My dog now

Old friends, unfortunate connections

Dinner interrupted

That dog’s green for another reason

Summoning a guardian instead

Danny isn’t what he expected

An uncomfortable heir

Apex predator Gotham

A girlfriend with a haunting past

Cleansing music

The forgotten queen

At the center of it all

Plans sidelined for a few ghosts

Amity stuck in the past

A dynasty built on ghosts

A haunting joke

A little to the left

Walker hates jokes

Vampiric wards?

Jack and Janet Drake go for a dig

Swapping ghosts for folks

Trapped for too long

Jason Todd: a bad anniversary

Taking care of a severed soulmate

Tim Drake has a portal accident

Disabled Dani

Technus hacks for a good cause

Freakshow picks up a stray Jay

Trying to save yourself without knowing it

Beast Boy’s a little bit spooky

The Fenton and Drake feud

A ghostly Batman

Johnny and Kitty from Gotham

Wtf just happened to the Earth?

Hood and the Holiday Truce

A Little Baby Man infestation

Jason, silent since the grave

A tomb like a cocoon

Deaged: there the whole time

Red Hood, ghostly beneath the helmet

When vigilantes ruin your disappearing act

Ghostly soul marks

Summonings and sharing exes

The call of a ghostly stone

An ill-advised cat burglary

Clockwork might not have been the best choice

Val moves to Gotham

Summoned in his stead

Damian gets to pick for once

A concerning return to AO3

The side effects of cleansing a core

Killed and saved by a joke

Red Hood gets souped

Gotham wants Jason back in his grave

A friendly ghost Robin goes missing

Wes needs to learn to shutup

Corrupted vs pure ectoplasm: FIGHT

Demon twins: an unfortunate “corpse” discovery

Demon twins: menace of Gotham

Ivy and Harley in Amity

Occult shop in Gotham

John gets pawned

Demon twins: Sam in the know (derogatory)

Crown too big for he gotdamn head

Little Baby Man after king fight

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dogprompts #batpham

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Up All Night 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn’t serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You know you won’t get much sleep. It’s not unusual. Whether you’re staying late to clean up after the manchild or getting in early to do the same, your nights are short and restless. That one is particularly disturbed as you are innately aware of his presence on just the other side of the wall.

He is in your space. The one place in your life he hasn’t invaded. Until then.

You sink into a shallow sleep. The world looms through a thin sheet of concsciousness as your breathing forms a calming rhythm amidst the distant noises of the nocturnal traffic. You roll over and nestle down deeper, reaching for a more succinct respite.

You push your hand up under the pillow and bury your face in the pillow. You don’t have much time left. In an hour or so, you’ll have too get up and go through your morning routine. It may take longer considering the pest that’s infested your apartment.

Your worries pervade even your dreams as the vision of the office rises hazy behind your eyelids. You sit as you always do, typing as you glance back and forth at the empty office. Again, not unusual yet there is a sense of something amiss.

You look at your screen but can’t read the words. You push back the chair, the wheels squeaking loud as you pivot and search the space. It’s completely empty. As you turn back, even your desk is gone.

It is impossibly frigid and suddenly stolid as the office walls fade to gray. You groan as you float into the limbo between reality and dreams. Neither is much different from the other, blending in a twisted muddle of stress.

“Mmm, baby,” a deep rumble rolls through you, “silky… I like it.”

Your eyes snap open as you feel the rustle of your satin nightgown, a blaring heat against your back, the scent of cologne and alcohol roiling together in your nose. You reach down to stop the creeping touch as thick fingers push up the lace trim of your nightie. You growl as you cling to Ransom’s hand, jerking your elbow back into his ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You croak through your dry throat, tearing his arm off of you as you roll onto your back.

“Huh?” His confusion catches in his throat.

“Why are you in my bed?”

You reach over and tug the chain the bedside lamp, the light shining through the ivory shade. You’re greeted by the sight of Ransom’s broad shoulders and his bare torso, pelvis barely hidden by the corner of your duvet. You blink and scowl at him.

“Why are you naked?”

“What the hell?” He sits up, “I thought– what the hell? How did I get here?”

“You tell me,” you snarl.

“I woke up on the couch and… I figured… I pulled some ass–”

“You are an ass,” you hug the blanket to your stomach, “get out of my bed.”

He doesn’t move. He looks at the door then back at you. You furrow your brow as his eyes wander down your neck. You raise the duvet as your nostrils flare.

“You’re couch kinda sucks–”

“Get out–”

“Come on. I won’t touch ya. And I’m still a little drunk,” he pinches his fingers in the air, “you really shouldn’t leave me alone.”

You glare at him. You think of getting up and stomping out to sleep on the couch yourself. You won’t do that. He doesn’t win here. This is your domain.

“You can get up or I will make you get up,” you sneer.

He squints and lets out a scoff, “what if I told you I’m already halfway there?”

You shake your head, “what?”

He looks down at his lap, spreading his hand over the blanket as the fabric shifts and reveals the nakedness of his thigh. Your lips curl and an audible noise of disgust crawls out of your throat. Your fist hits his shoulder before you can think.

“You are disgusting.”

“Hey, you should be flattered. A lady your age… waking the beast–”

“I am not some stupid young thing,” you retort.

“Don’t have to remind me,” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I should remind you that you are my boss. This is unseemly.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” He falls back against the pillow, “if you’re not gonna solve the problem. Isn’t that you’re job?"

“Do you have no shame?” You spit.

He smirks as he folds his arms behind his head. He pushes his chest out and wiggles his hips, the blanket threatening to reveal even more. Revulsion courses up your spin and fills your stomach with bile. In a million years, you would never touch Ransom Drysdale.

You sputter and recoil. You grumble as you turn your back to him and stand, tugging down your nightie as you stand and snatch your watch from beside the lamp. You check the time. Another early morning.

“Go to sleep then,” you grit, “you’ll be a lot more tolerable then.”

You sweep out of the room as you slip the watch around your wrist. You pad down the hall and rub your itchy hot eyes. Your head is already pounding. The thought of coffee consumes you, promising some relief before you face another day of that man and his incompetence.

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #drabble #up all night #au #club au #knives out #series

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liesandmischeif · 3 months ago

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Whispers of a new beginning

Part 2

Loki x f!reader

Masterlist

Notes: Part 1 is here

Happy reading!

Warning: teeny weeny argument, language

Two weeks later and Loki still looked blue. He had refused to leave the house or to go to see doctor strange (the irony!). You had moved from feeling cold to feeling frozen, as if someone had forced you to ingest thousands of ice cubes and none of them would melt. It meant you were currently living off of soup and tea (that Loki offered to make at every opportunity, claiming you would burn yourself). And all of your other symptoms seemed to be getting worse. You were irritable, you couldn’t sleep, you threw up in the night and most mornings, although whether this was a response to your newfound abnormal eating habits, you weren’t sure. You had both become very emotional and on edge.

After a week of not feeling well enough (or strong enough to fight Loki) go to work, you realised something had to change.

Eventually a deal was made.

“If I go to the doctors, you have to too.”

“Fine.”

One portal trip later, and Strange said you were most likely experiencing extreme flu symptoms due to being surrounded by the cold all day every day, the diagnosis given with a pointed look in Loki’s direction. Loki didn’t get any diagnosis.

“But there must be something!” you said. “There’s no way this could happen out of the blue.”

Strange just shrugged “ I couldn’t tell you. They didn’t teach alien biology when I went to school.”

“But you have powers, and knowledge of the multiverse, and –“

“And my time is more valuable than your flu and his abnormal skin” he said. “I’m a surgeon, not a dermatologist. Figure it out.”

He swept out the room without a backward glance, leaving you and your husband looking confused and feeling disregarded.

“Pompous twat” you muttered with distain. “Couldn’t even spare us a minute.”

Loki looked defeated, and simply began to magic you both back home when an idea struck.

“Wait!” you said, “Why don’t we have a look around? There’s a huge library in here and there’s sure to be something on Jontar.”

Your husband just looked perplexed. “You want to raid the library of the sorcerer supreme?”

“Yeah”

“We’ll get caught”

“That’s half the fun”

He contemplated, then subtly smiled. “One condition.”

“What?”

“Stop complaining about me caring about you. I’m worried. I’m not used to sickness, it’s rare on Asgard, and all I want to do is help you get better.”

You just rolled your eyes. “Sometimes I forget why I married you”

“I love you too, my flu-infested mortal.”

After twenty minutes evading capture from the sorcerers helpers, you and Loki teleport back home with a handful of books. It’s been a week of you both reading and re-reading them, from cover to cover. Nothing helps.

Meanwhile, Loki’s overprotective drive went into hyper-mode. He had convinced himself that you were going to die of the flu, and hadn’t let you get out of bed all week. He had been bringing you meals, books and snacks every day since the visit with strange, and would constantly be by your side. The only time you were alone anymore was when you were using the bathroom. Even then though, he was still hovering around, and you had since caved and let him help you get washed, although mainly because you were feeling too drowsy to do it yourself. You had been trying to work from home, but you kept dozing off through the day, probably because you were sick and had made no effort to do anything during the day. And on the rare occasion that you wanted to get out of bed, Loki immediately vetoed the idea, saying you were far too sick to even consider it.

You realised you had to get out of bed and start doing something when you decided to step on the bathroom scales.

5kg? How on earth did you gain 5kg just by sitting in bed for a week? Illness be damned, you had to do something.

You went back in the bedroom and walked over to the wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” comes the cautious voice of you beloved.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No my love.” His magic closes the wardrobe door.

“Yes I am.” The door doesn’t budge. “Loki, open the door.”

“No chance. You’re sick-“

“Open the door!”

“NO!” He yells. “My love, you are not leaving. You’re sick. You can’t go. What if someone hurt you? What if you got attacked?”

“I am perfectly capable of going for a walk!” You retort “It’s London, it’s not a bloody war field! It does neither of us any good being cooped up here!”

“It’s not my fault my magic doesn’t work!”

“It’s not mine either, and I’m not a prisoner in my own home! You aren’t going to stop-” Your rant was interrupted. You suddenly felt lightheaded, like you couldn’t breathe. And so, so cold. Like your bones had turned to ice.

You remember falling to the floor before it all went black.

It’s like everything is floating. You can’t really feel or touch anything. You can’t really open your eyes properly. But you can hear. The sounds are jumbled and confusing, and you should know the words but it’s too hard to discern what they are. The only comfort is in the background, you hear Loki’s soft voice, murmuring words that sound so pretty, even if you don’t understand what he means. It’s him that makes you feel safe.

You come to in a hospital room. Loki is sitting by your side, holding your hand. The other arm has several needles and an IV drip sticking out of it. You can’t talk, your voice is too raspy, so you settle for a cough. Loki nearly jumps a mile, but when he looks at you, his eyes are bursting with love, like you’re the most precious thing in the universe. He gently moves to cup your face, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose, forehead, lips, anywhere he can reach. He whispers confessions of love against your skin, and promises you the world. You try to tell him that you love him too, that you’re sorry, but you feel like your throat is drier than a desert. He only leaves to call the nurse, but when he has to step away from you, it feels like the only thing tethering you to sanity has left. You’re crying now, but there’s no tears, just empty, croaky sobs, and his arms around you.

After a while, everything calms down. The nurses check you over and give you some fluids. Loki doesn’t leave, he holds your hand the whole time. Eventually you find your voice.

“I’m sorry Lo.”

“Don’t apologise love. I understand now.”

“But you were right. You knew there was something wrong, you were trying to protect me.”

Loki just takes a deep breath. “Love, there’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

“When you passed out, I called an ambulance. They wouldn’t let me come with you because I was -and still am, unfortunately- Jontar.” He explains. “Apparently it goes against standard practice to let aliens in medical buildings. Even now, Stark pulled some strings to arrange for me to be let in. So I couldn’t give them any of your details. They didn’t know anything about you and had to do tests from scratch.”

“Alright...” you say, slightly curious. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, because your body temperature was so low, they began treating you for hypothermia, but it didn’t work. So they wanted to run more tests to see what was wrong. When all the MRI scans came up negative, they wanted an X-ray, to see if any part of your skull was fractured or if there was anything obstructing the pituitary gland.” You’re getting confused now. Loki looks like he’s on the verge of tears. You give his hand a squeeze and smile.

“Loki, I’m ok-“

“Love, they had to follow procedure. I wasn’t there. So, because you were unconscious, they took a sample to test for pregnancy.”

Your jaw his the floor. “It came back positive” he says.

Everything starts spinning. You feel like you cant breathe, like there’s not enough air in the world to make you feel right again. God, why does it feel like you’re about to pass out, please don’t pass out.

“Love?”

“But... how?” you stutter. “How Loki? We never... I have an implant. It couldn’t...”

“Apparently your records say your implant was fitted too long ago for it still to be active. We just didn’t realise.”

You are scared to look at him. You don’t know what he’ll say. You’ve never really considered anything like this.

“Darling? Are you alright?” he asks gently.

“I don’t know.” You begin to fidget until his hands cover yours. “I don’t know Loki. It just feels so... sudden.”

“There’s something else. Jontar biology and mating rituals are closely linked. The baby is causing you to make the hormonal equivalent of nerve depressant. It’s common on Jotenhiem for the female to spend pregnancy in a sort of hibernation, only waking once food reserves had run out.” He says. “I may also have broken into Strange’s library. Again.”

“But humans don’t hibernate?” you point out.

“No love, but they do get tired and stay in bed all day. And the males are responsible for collecting food and protecting the mate. Hence the change in routine and” he gestures to himself “skin colour.”

“Oh” you stutter. “That... makes sense.”

There’s a pause. Neither of you know quite what to say. You’re just digesting all the information thrown at you. And there’s so many conversations that need to be had and questions that need to be asked. You’ve wanted kids, and you want them with him, you just haven’t said anything. You had assumed it wouldn’t be possible, with the two of you being not only different species but from a different planet. Having swept it under the rug for so long, now that it’s staring you in the face, you can’t feel anything but fear. So when you do finally find your voice, you just turn to him and ask “What do we do?”

“What do you mean love?”

“I mean... we have a baby. I’m pregnant. I don’t... how do you feel? About ... everything?”

He takes a deep breath. “I actually feel... good. I’m less terrified and more so at the same time. Now I know what’s happening, I can keep you safe, and help you better. You’re pregnant. We’re having a baby. And even though that is absolutely petrifying, I’m happy. How... how do you feel?”

“Erm... scared. Confused. Exited. Nervous. Very nervous. And I don’t know anything about frost giants. And I don’t know what to do, I mean, how am I supposed to get through pregnancy and have a life if I can’t get out of bed for the next... how far along am I?”

“They think 7 weeks.” He says, “but I’m not sure how long Jontar pregnancies last. I can only assume it will default to the midguardian timings, since it’s growing at the same rate a human would.”

“So we have… 7 more months. And then, we have a baby.”

The two of you sit there in silence, pondering the next steps and the new life growing inside you. And you realise you feel… ok. You trust Loki. You know he’s scared, but he would do anything for you. And for your child. And you have ultimately to wanted children with him from the start, it just wasn’t expected to happen like this. But you want this. A new person in your small family, your child.

“I love you. And I want our baby.” You say “I want everything, as long as it’s with you. I need you to want this too.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “I was hoping you’d say that. I love you too, and I want to give it to you. Everything that the nine realms has to offer.”

And so, your family of three was born.

#loki #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #marvel #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki fanfic #mcu loki #loki odinson #marvel loki #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #fluff #light angst #angst with a happy ending #loki x y/n #loki x female reader #loki x f!reader

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wehaveimagineshere · 7 months ago

Note

Heyyyyy it's Couldn't Sleep aka inciting Carlos request back at it again. I was wondering if I could ask for a sort of pseudo-followup I guess? Where the reader has a nightmare about their not-so-great childhood and Carlos comforts them and tells them it's ok to cry and they're finally safe now. I uh....... didn't have a great night. cptsd for the win. Anyway love you, Ren. Hope you have a good day. Again, thanks for writing my other prompt. I'm gonna try and get a nap in today I'm still so sleepy.

I'm so sorry this is coming out so late! I hope you were able to sleep and you've been getting okay sleep since you sent this in. CPTSD is not fun ever, and I'm so sorry you have to struggle with it. Remember that you're strong, courageous, terrifying, and you can shake the world off its axis if you put your mind to it <3

But most of all, you're safe. Especially in Carlos' arms <3

~*~*~

It's a prison that you can almost forget about.

Its claws can become almost blanket soft, a whisper against the skin. Its footsteps can fit almost perfectly into your own, the same shoe size and indent in the sand. Its voice can become nigh indistinguishable from your own, praise and happiness flowing freely.

But in the end it is still a prison. Its claws still sharp, digging canyons into your arms, your chest. Hounding your every step, threatening to trip you up. Telling you foul and disgusting lies, wrapping you into a world of darkness and fear.

It is a prison you have yet to find the exit to, as you go from one room to another. As you are once again forced to relive what should only be distant memories, distance feelings, the claws digging deeper and deeper into your flesh. You try to remind yourself of the people who matter, who care about you, but it tries so desperately to hold you in place, to keep it company in the rot infested darkness. Choking you, trapping you.

And all you can do is scream. Scream into an endless void that swallows your very sound, your very heartbeat, what makes you you as you endlessly struggle, the blood endlessly pouring down your limbs and pooling at your feet.

An endless ocean, suffocating, thick--

Your eyes fly open as you jerk up, lungs struggling to suck down air as you scramble backward, back hitting the headboard, eyes darting to asses the threat, to find the exits--

"The door is over there, and it's open."

You hear him before you see him, a small gesture capturing your gaze as he points. Fear roots you in place, eyes boring into his, watching his body language, his expression, waiting for--

He's at the edge of the bed. No, he's standing at the foot, arms up, palms pointed your way.

Something eases in your chest.

"You're okay," you hear him say as the fear crashes, leeching your limbs of energy. "You're safe, sweetheart."

Glancing once more about the room, you note the drawn curtains, the cracked window. The rumpled blankets at the foot of the bed and to your side, too far away for you to have done it yourself. The water bottle on your bedside table, unopened, and indeed the bedroom door ajar.

Looking up once more, you finally take in Carlos. Shirtless, hair askew, shoulders tense, you recognize the look he's giving you as your muscles finally relax.

"Carlos," you whisper, dragging your knees up to your chest and hugging them tight.

"Hey, honey. I'm here. What do you need?"

All you can do is reach out a hand.

He moves slowly, deliberately, giving you all the time in the world to shift away as he crawls back onto the bed, hand grasping yours and bringing it to his chest, pressing your palm above his heart.

"You're safe, sweetheart," he repeats, bringing his free hand up to gently wipe away the tears you didn't realize had escaped. "You're home, with me. And I won't let anything hurt you, you know that."

You nod.

He reaches over, gently drawing you against his chest, loose enough so you can back out if needed.

Instead you melt into him, the tears coming freely, wracking your body as sobs escape. You're so tired but so wired, your brain struggling to align itself out of the dream and flashbacks, trying to remind itself that you're safe now.

You've always been safe with him. Especially as Carlos tucks you in close, his heartbeat now in your ears, a steady, constant rhythm in your life.

"You're safe," he says again, quieter, as his fingers run across your shoulders, your back. "You're safe. Take a deep breath." You do, holding it until until he says to let go. As you take your fourth breath he reaches to grab the water bottle. "Here. Take a drink."

It takes a moment to open the cap, but the cool water sliding down your chest helps ease more of the tension, cooling the stove heating your blood. Sighing, you set the bottle down and rub your face. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Having a nightmare? I get them too."

"For waking you up. For..." For the fear, the sadness, the helplessness, the anger, for a damaged version of yourself. "For this."

"And what is this?" he asks, brushing more tears from your cheeks. "For how amazing you are? For how you're ride or die for the people you care about? How badass you are every day?"

"I--"

"Sure, maybe you put dye in my shampoo once and I walked around with green hair for a week. But it was Saint Patrick's Day. Most people wear a green shirt or something, I had green hair."

A smile tugs at your lips.

"I had people come up to me going, 'Carlos! What awesome hair!' and I went, 'Thanks! My partner gave it to me!' and then got to listen to how smart and cool they thought the idea was."

"You put dye in my hot chocolate and turned my tongue blue in retaliation."

"We're not talking about that right now."

This time you chuckle, and the sound prompts Carlos to kiss the top of your head. "Wanna help me brainstorm ways to turn all of my coworker's tongues blue?"

"Do I get anything out of it?"

"Aside from being the mastermind? Maybe a kiss or two. Depends on how well your plan works."

Shifting your head up, you give him a smile and kiss his jaw. "Deal."

#resident evil #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira/reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira/gn reader #carlos oliveira x gn reader

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lazodiac · 7 months ago

Text

It's time again to look at Thunder Junction's cards and try and divine where each and every one of these bad boys are from.

Also just a note in case people are curious; since Tumblr has a 30 image limit per post, I'll be doing all of The Big Score at the end, after all the colours and stuff. It's my prerogative and I'll do as I please. If you missed the first part, you can find it here! So without further ado, it is time for...

BLUE

While I don't think EVERY mount is from Thunder Junction Proper... newts ARE a creature that shows up in the west. I was initially thinking this could be for Eldraine, especially given it belongs to an archmage, but... ultimately, I think this is a native to the plane.

Another native, and dare I say this is a CHARISMATIC crab. I love the crystals on its back! I also love the blue cacti nearby it? Those are real by the way!

There aren't many turtle-men in Magic. Three, in fact, before this one; the Lagoon Sage, a Quandrix student, and a Kappa from Kamigawa. The Kappa has a VERY distinct look, the Quandrix is a sea turtle, and the Lagoon Sage is a snapper just like the Thunder-Thief over here... and I'm gonna make a called shot and say this is from Bloomburrow as a result!

Homarid are a Dominaria specialty, so this racist bastard is absolutely from there.

Djinn of this type are only found on Tarkir, so this one is easy. He's taken a break from his dragon-infested plane to relax under a waterfall martial artist style, and that's just kinda fun.

This is a tricky one, since the ability is pretty plane agnostic, and the design doesn't evoke much in it... but her collar DOES have the typical three-fang Dimir tell, and it'd fit both colour and what she's doing, so lets go with Ravnica.

Sadly a cursory Wiki glance tells me only that this guy is from America.

... okay okay, taking this seriously; the wings and the scroll and the steps, the name, all the flavour suggests this is from Amonkhet for me. It could be from elsewhere, but this feels the most "correct" for lack of a better term. I wish cards like this would get flavor text reprints down the line though...

These are some home-grown ghosts, and we know from various other stories (Gideon, Elspeth, etc) that when you die you go to the afterlife of the plane you're on... so these are some newly "born" natives.

These unfortunate individuals are from the dead plane of Oregon.

... what? I already used that joke? Okay fine. There really isn't any actual signifiers here, and the only humanoid in the art is too indistinct to tell. Given the content of the card is trying and failing to ford one of Thunder Junction's mighty rivers, I'm calling this card "native to the plane" for lack of anything else appropriate.

Oh hey it's everyone's favorite running gag from Ravnica. Fblthp is an easy one, so instead of elaborating more on our mono-eyed friend instead I'll bring up a question I want any of you reading this to answer.

Didn't they say during the initial preview teasers that there was an important plot event happening in the background of this card? That never bore fruit and I can't remember the exact preview stream I heard it, but I swear I did. I want someone to confirm this for me. I'm abusing my power.

Regrettably, the flavor text makes this spell be sourced from Oko's Home Plane. I do love this weird tumbleweed creature though!

God I hate Oko he's such a scum bag (derogatory).

A personal favorite character of mine, Geralf is an Innistradi born and raised, here to investigate the Thunder of the plane- as well as test how mana bonds work for planebound folk now that they have access to planar travel. Good luck, sir.

An obvious native of the plane. I quite like the flavor of this card as well by the way, it's just a clever way to incorporate the geysers you would occasionally see in the old west.

Another Thunder Junction native! It's wild how many of these there actually are, but wild animals do make up a bulk of cards in Magic so it's not THAT unreasonable.

Fun lore tidbit; allegedly the Thunder only started after the Omenpaths opened up. No one has lived here before that so no one can confirm that is true, and this flavor text suggests otherwise.

One of the only cards showcasing the least important members of Oko's gang of ruffians! Kaervek and Satoru busting out of jail thanks to the help of Annie Flash. The framing of the card makes it feel more like Kaervek's doing the real world (valid, Satoru is a loser this entire story) so I'm gonna call it for Zhalfir here- and yes even though technically everyone from Zhalfir is from Dominaria, it's a plane all its own now. I make the rules here!

The Fomorian made star-key to open up their vault on Thunder Junction, I feel like it is safe to say this was made here. It's got little arcs of Thunder and even looks like a deputy star, so it fits the vibe.

Fun fact; being a six pointed star, plus the fact that in the story they mentioned the sixth slot started glowing purple, I briefly had the idea that they might be implying the Fomorian's know of Purple magic and we'll get it in the big Space set we're getting down the line. Then I remembered Cosmium is purple and a major energy source for the Fomorion people, so nevermind.

I can't confidently say this is from Bloomburrow, given we don't know how big the people of that plane can get- so far they've maxed out at Badger and Fox- but I really don't know where this guy could be from otherwise! Maybe Ravnica? So lets call this Bloomburrow until corrected otherwise.

Incidentally this is one of my favorite pieces of art in the set. Love this fucking guy.

Beyond all the art signifiers, I believe it was straight up said on twitter this is a Therosian Sphinx, so she's from Theros. Good for her. Why is she wearing spurs...?

I'm fairly confident this is meant to depict Stella Lee, and she's from the Atiin people, so that's where this is from! Rundo meanwhile sounds like a Ravnica, but that's just some trivia.

This one I'm not fully sure on. The little bird like flecks of white in his magic, the watery energy... I feel like I've seen it somewhere before, but I can't quite place it. The red and blue suggests Izzet but then he's a Slickshot, the red-blue faction on Thunder Junction. I'm gonna go with my gut and say Ravnica, though.

Shit like this is why I wish we'd gotten a planeswalker guide...

Blue, so far, has some of the most easy and obvious ones to place, and for this I'm thankfully. This guy is a Stitcher, so he's from Innistrad. Easy as.

She's got some of the Sterling Company aesthetic going on, but I'm a stickler for stupid jokes so I'm gonna say she's from Zendikar. The armor could evoke Sea Gate, and they've always been good with ropes so why NOT translate that to combat?

Like with the earlier ghosts, dead-then-revived means you're native to Thunder Junction... but also this guy is clearly an Obscura from New Capenna, using some of his old magic, so I'mma call it for the big city here.

Oko's big bad gang preparing for the heist of the life-time. Since it's Oko's big idea it's from Oko's stupid plan.

The sort of misty blasts of fire and ice we're seeing here is aesthetically similar to the "gunfire" magic of New Capenna. I love this guy by the way.

Hey wait a second Ashiok can't do stuff like this. They can only read nightmares, not minds!

YEah for those of you who don't know, the Ashiok in this set is actually Jace in disguise! So this is from home-grown celtic Vryn mind-shredding. Our hero(?) ladies and gentlehommes.

An actual Sterling Company goon, though at least this one has a funny joke to his card. I still really like the work they did in making sure every weapon used in the set has the needed arcing loop for Thunder to channel through it.

Oh right the reason why we're here. I'm gonna say New Capenna again, because there's basically no defining traits here. Also god I just realized he's missing the front brim of his hat and it looks terrible. Graywater pay your men properly they can't even afford complete hats!

It took me a bit to realize what was happening in this card. The lady in the back is only choosing the final Spree option here, swapping around the Outcaster and the Hellspur's clothing. Rude!

Clothing swap spells seems like a funny prank to pull at magical college, so Arcavios is where this is going.

I think in cases where I just cannot make any reasonable assumptions based on art, I should look at mechanics. Flashback is usually in Innistrad... but this lady's neckline is WAY too exposed for that Even accounting for the new plane... honestly I give up, the only real identifying factor here is her little lockpick device, which... kinda looks Kamigawan? Lets go with that.

The vibe, the way she wears her hat, and the little phone cord(?) on her belt makes me think of New Capenna. Look some of these are really difficult and I gotta go by vibes!

And that's the 30 card limit, give me a half second for part two!

#outlaws of thunder junction #Magic the Gathering #MTG #OTJ #Planeswalker #blue mana #nerd stuff

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celestial--sapphic · 6 months ago

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I thought it would be fun to create graphic versions of all the signs, letters, notes, newspaper clippings and other documents which feature in my Poppy Sweeting x f!MC fic Kiss me (like you wanna be loved) 🎨

This letter appears in the fourth chapter and is opened by Poppy during breakfast.

You can read a snippet of the scene where it features below the cut ⬇️

“I think it’s her latest recipe.” Poppy says before she has even unfolded the note, obviously recognising the handwriting. She scans the parchment quickly and then unexpectedly offers it to Evelyn, who takes it gingerly. The Hufflepuff opens up the feed bag to inspect the treats, as the Slytherin reads.

My dearest granddaughter, Poppy’s grandmother’s writing curves elegantly against the parchment.

I am very excited to inform you that my rhubarb has finally come into season and I have been treated to a bumper crop. There was more than enough for the beasts and for me to make several tartlets (they are frozen and await your return).

Please do let me know the reaction to my latest infusion, as the holly one was such a hit.

In other news:

I recently discovered our resident fairy population has laid a fresh clutch of eggs, they are likely to hatch before you are home.

The Winthropes are still suffering with their gnome infestation, I daresay they do not make it easy for themselves.

When Mr Chopra’s son delivered my shrivelfigs on Wednesday he was quite insistent that he saw a quintaped on one of his deliveries. I attempted to explain to him – as you well know – that firstly, such beasts are not native to Sussex and secondly, that if he saw such a beast he would not have lived to tell the tale. I am not sure I changed his mind though, he was quite convinced.

I hope Highwing is well and you are both staying out of trouble. I am pleased to hear you are spending more time with friends at Hogwarts though, both in your house and otherwise. I might be a biased old hag but they are very lucky to have you.

Do make sure you are looking after yourself and focus on your studies, even if that means spending less time near the pens, your O.W.Ls are important.

All my love and affection,

Gran

It feels odd to read a letter directly from Poppy’s gran, almost like an invasion of privacy despite the Hufflepuff willingly handing it over. It doesn’t escape Evelyn how easily, how absolutely unconsciously, Poppy did pass the parchment over to her. At one time, Poppy’s family was a secret which she clung close to her chest, hardly revealing anything to anyone – not that there was anyone she was close enough with anyway. For a long while her gran was, in many ways, the only real person in her life and her parents a source of sadness, shame and unresolved anger – emotions which Evelyn had been privy to on only a couple of occasions; Horntail Hall being one.

No doubt letters from her gran would be read and closed with no second set of eyes seeing them; no one to discuss the content with. But Poppy has opened up more and more since they entered this strange more-than-friends space they find themselves in. She has shared a menagerie of details, stories and funny little facts. Everything from her gran’s research (past and present), to places they have gone on holiday (Whitby, Llandudno), and what it's like at their house at Christmas (cinnamon cider warming on the stove in the morning and games in the evening). The simple act of her handing Evelyn a letter from the most important person in her life is perhaps the most significant thing to date in their burgeoning courtship; more than the private, intense kisses, more than the murmured confirmation of feelings, more than the increasingly courageous touches over their respective uniforms.

It feels personal – deeply intimate, even.

#not me once again putting off uni work haha #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #evelyn caddel #poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting x mc #poppy sweeing x f!mc #fic graphics

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edgyandoverzealous · 2 years ago

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Hot take(possibly??): most of the demigods in pjo/toa/hoo are villain coded. Not all but a lot of them and the best part of this is they're villain coded but they're known as untouchable heroes which is incredibly interesting for me.

For example, the cliche, the obvious, Percy. I love him don't get me wrong but that man's fatal flaw is canonically his loyalty, his personal loyalties specifically. The reason he went on his first quest initially was to bring his mom back from the underworld, essentially back from the dead because his mom is extremely important to him more so than his dad who was absent most his life, not retrieving the lightning bolt though he did end up doing that and Hades had Sally safe and well. The common saying is "a hero will sacrifice the one he loves to save the world. a villain will burn the world to keep the one he loves safe." You cannot look me dead in the eyes and tell me Percy Jackson, the man who while angry and bitter about his mother's "death" and this quest sent Medusa's head in a box to olympus, who after falling for Annabeth couldn't forget her even when Hera wiped his memory, would EVER let anything happen to her. He went to literal hell with her has killed monsters in brutal dark ways while in said hell and even before that jumped into siren infested waters to save Annabeth personal safety and quest be damned. He has turned down immortality for her. The gods could give him an ultimatum and he would choose Annabeth every time over anything, except his mortal family, but even then Percy would save everyone and then burn Olympus for daring to make him make that choice.

Additionally another one of my favorites who is increasingly more complex or at the very least somewhat the opposite to Percy in his villain coding is Nico Di Angelo.

For starters he's lost so much and has failed to save whoever was most important to him, twice. His fatal flaw is canonically, that he holds grudges, which is specifically noted to be dangerous for kids of Hades. Probably because demigods have shown on multiple occasions to have their powers connected to their emotions. IE: Percy through the entire first book and Nico in his first battle with Percy where he essentially summons an army in a panic. Or possibly because of their connection to death, the afterlife, and creatures from the underworld. Luckily this son of Hades is in control as he gets older so it's most likely the ladder in this case. Anyways after Percy got his sister, the only person Nico had left, killed Nico started running and using avoidance as a coping mechanism. Which in itself is a classic villain backstory set up because once someone has nothing they can be pushed to risk everything. However, my personal hypothesis is he spent that time running to avoid a violent outburst and act out on his grudge to cause Percy harm or put him into harms way, on top of the crushing guilt he must've felt for having a crush on the one who got his sister killed. To gain control over his emotions and come to terms with his new reality without his sister and with his new lineage and powers associated with. When he first comes back he is untrusting and distant. Then there was the whole "I have a friend who fully accepts me and I may be able to learn how to love again, trust again, and have friends" thing with Jason and then Rick killed him. That alone gives Nico more than a right to be angry and start fucking shit up tm. But he didn't and now he has Will. Classic case of the fooled me once shame on me fooled me twice shame on you imo. The set up for the same to happen again is underway as well. So at the very least three strikes you're out because I genuinely believe if anything happens to Will, Nico will no longer follow the heroes path. I believe the world would crumble and quake beneath his feet as the most guttural scream escapes his mouth. The dead will rise as he storms Olympus for giving him a story so cruel despite how hard he's fought and how good he's tried to be. I believe he would raise hell so intensely that the gods themselves would resurrect Will in fear of being overthrown by the wrath of the prince of darkness.

#today on why these characters are just like me fr #villian coded #percy jackson #nico di angelo #pjo headcanon #percabeth #solangelo #this makes me feel things #like happy brain worms #i could do a whole analysis about them actually #with sources and everything but for now this is all im giving

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princess-of-the-corner · 7 months ago

Note

Honestly outside of that wish fulfillment outline I did elsewhere, my idea season 6, involves the following:

1: Marinette & Felix & Kagami debating whether to tell Adrien the truth, Marinette is on the fence, Felix thinks it won't make him happy so bad idea & "I never hesitate Tsurugi" seems to keep wafling.

2: Kagami keeps finding what appear to be love letters from Felix lying around but we never know what they say or see her react to or comment on them.

3: Chloe comes back as a perpetual Akuma, breaking all the things and leaving ominous messages all over. Andre 'seems' to try to parent by donning a Miraculous so he can 'talk' to Chloe & its basically Tai Lung VS Shifu except more of a stomp fest.

Andre: I know... I'm at fault, we're at fault. Your mother and I rewarded cruelty and called it strength and punished kindness and called it weakness. I am sorry, I can have the banishment lifted, we can start over again and fix things.

4: Followed by Chloe letting out an unhinged cackle and revealing she is not naive enough to trust him anymore, not when he knows who Hawk Moth really was. Cue her revealing via Lila provided info that Gabriel was Hawk Moth, how he twisted her & Lila to make them useful assets. Chloe 'broke' while Lila became more terrifying & that Ladybug as well covered it up.

5: Lila abandons Chloe "No honor among thieves I guess" and Crimson Akuma descend on the city. Felix & Marinette go for Chloe only to get lightning struck by Kagami who steals the peacock & Horse. "I have broken the rose tinted glasses you forced on me Felix" she says, passing Doosoo off to a low key flabbergasted Chloe, Like she did provide those letters making Kagami question what Felix did with her Amok but she didn't expect this!

6: Chloe uses Voyage to force summon Lila and then she & Kagami bounce, while everyone stomps her. Adrien freaks out & runs off too, but the crimson Akuma aren't going away but multiplying on their own like Stonehearts did so soon it seems like Paris will be infested with nothing but monsters.

Note: Felix didn't do overt mind control so much as just implant a "See things from my perspective" subtext, it could be overwhelmed by say, genocide. He may also offer to let her do the same to him when trying to justify it. IE "We can make it so we both always see each others point of view!" Which uh, would not help.

7: Anyway, everyone is having a bad time and this was just the mid season two parter.

God though

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 years ago

Text

Dante and Vergil with their s/o giving them late Christmas presents

Pairing: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Interestingly enough, Christmas was a time of the year when demons decided to cause mayhem - giving the whole crew enough work for months to come. Because of that, you didn't have the chance to buy your dear devil a present... But that wouldn't stop you from showing you cared.

Age restriction: none, really. Dante's present you can interpret as NSFW only if you WANT to. It pleases all readers: you can read it as something very silly or kinda spicy - and BOTH go with our red devil. He is a seducing goof, really.

Author's notes: I'm not in a very jolly Christmas spirit this year and feeling quite meh about the Holidays, so maybe this can cheer up some people who are on the same vibe as me. Sometimes we're not on our best days and it's ok if we're not on the Holiday vibe - you're not broken. It's fine if you don't feel great.

ALSO IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: the poem on Vergil's part is a song lyrics I've written a long time ago and I went through my notes to find something I liked for this one. You're welcome to share if you like, but please credit me. It's my first time sharing this sort of work, so be nice about it ^^

Dante

Oh, Christmas. Jolly time, beautiful time, snowflake insanity time and carols playing everywhere a human – or demonic – hearing could reach.

One thing everyone seemed to forget, was the high incidence of demons causing pure mayhem. You understood Halloween – based on Samhein and all that – but Christmas…? Maybe demons liked to follow the Wheel of the Year as well and wreaked havoc during Yule?

Well, you settled with that explanation. Demons were all about magic, solstices, equinoxes, and such, so Christmas should be one of those magic heavy times too.

It was a bummer that the Devil May Cry always got busier that time of the year.

After the family and the crew got together, Dante started celebrating and waiting eagerly for it every time December 1st arrived on the calendar. Prior to that, though, you knew your red devil wasn’t much of a celebration type of guy – for a long time, he had no one to celebrate it with; therefore, he allowed the date to die inside his heart.

Hunting was his – and yours, to be honest – way to stop thinking about it. If you were busy, you wouldn’t notice that loneliness that seemed to approach during the jolly time.

You sighed, while walking back home in the streets of Redgrave. With hands inside your coat’s pockets, your sword was carefully kept inside a guitar case you caried on your back – something you learned with Dante to be less obvious of your status as a devil hunter to other people. You were just another tired musician, coming back home after a tiring day at work.

And what a day. You received so many calls, the crew had to cancel Christmas and each one go to a job and clear one demon infestation at a time. That meant no Christmas food, no cozy drinks, no jolly songs on repeat and no presents.

With your feet marking your way in the snow, the snowflakes spiraled as you let out another sigh. You wanted to give Dante a present – to show him you cared and all that, even after he told you he didn’t want anything. But that was the thing about him: Dante never wanted anything and always thought he didn’t deserve it.

If you could only grab him by the shoulders and shake that stupid belief out of his head. It was funny even how many times that type of thought crossed your head – but it was a staple of living with Dante.

You could hear people celebrating inside their houses. It was very late and probably in the middle of the night – you didn’t carry a watch or something to tell the time since a demon blasted your cellphone in two during a job and it took you more than a year to scrape some money to get a new one. Nevertheless, you learnt to tell the time by the skies and, giving how late it was, Dante probably was coming back from his as well.

He would be tired – or at least sore from all the fighting – and certainly in need of a shower, just like you at the moment.

Crossing the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry, you left the guitar case and dirty boots by the jukebox, noticing how Dante’s were missing – that meant he still wasn’t home.

As you went up the stairs, you still thought about his gift. You could give him a pizza for the night and Dante would be happy. One would think it would be great to have someone easy to please around, but it did make your life more difficult: you had no idea what to give him when you wanted something to be really special.

Everything was special for Dante.

Reaching your room, you finally smiled while searching for some clean pajamas. That little thought made you realize something – and search for a beautiful ribbon you could wrap a present with.

“Ei, babe! Still in the shower?”

“Hey, Dante! Just got out!” You answered while drying yourself with the towel. You could hear a little laugh in his voice as he walked around the room on the other side of the door.

“Damn, seems like I lost my chance for a nice shower with ya tonight!” His voice was a little muffled, making some effort with something. If you knew him well, Dante was finally taking his boots off and would remain sitting on the bed for a while to let his feet rest.

“Oh, I was desperately needing a shower.” You sighed, making him giggle a little. “How was your job today?”

“Eh, same as always… Nothin’ special, just a bunch of buffoons thinkin’ they’re gonna conquer the human world.” The sigh in his voice made you lough this time. You found it lovely how you always could hear his smile in the way he spoke back at you. “What…?”

“Not a usual thing hearing you say ‘buffoon’. You’re really Vergil’s brother, huh?” You couldn’t stop giggling as your fingers fumbled with the beautiful stripe of red cloth that would be a beautiful bow when you’d be done with it.

“What can I say, babe?” You already knew Dante so well, his shrug was in his voice, as well as his smugness. The cocky smile was beautifully plastered in your mind – and you’d hope you’d never forget it. “You start livin’ with the prince of darkness there, you get a few of his mannerisms.”

“Hmmm.” You tried to hold back a laugh, but the wheezing was recognizable even to Dante in the room. “Now I’m imagining good ol’ Verge dressed as Ozzy singing Paranoid like a crazy metal dad.”

You could swear Dante’s laugh could be heard through the whole shop – and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing alongside him. Moments like those were better than any presents you could give him.

“Ha! Now that would be a sight to see!” He coughed back. “But ya know, don’t mention this to Verge, but he used to like Black Sabbath and uncle Ozzy when we were kids.”

“Nooooo…! You’re joking!” As soon as your voice achieved the heights of disbelief, Dante just laughed in response. “Verge is a Sabbath guy?!”

“I’ll say two things: Mr. Crowley and War Pigs.” Dante’s voice disappeared for a few seconds before coming back again. “If ya sing one of these by his side, Vergil knows the lyrics by heart.”

“Man, I gotta do that one of these days…!” You giggled to yourself, hearing Dante falling on the bed. Probably sitting, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. “What about you?”

“Oh, I love uncle Ozz and Sabbath! Who do ya think introduced metal at home?!” With a sigh, you knew he was stretching and finally starting to relax. “But yeah, I was more into AC/DC, and later bands like Mötley Crüe. Verge said it was all one hell of a noise and he couldn’t focus on readin’.”

“Huh. As if you can focus on Sabbath.”

“Touché. He knew some songs on drums too, he just liked complainin’…”

That was a good present for you. Having Dante remember things of his life and talk to you about mundane things, like music, was something that always warmed your heart – you loved everything about him, but spending time together and just getting to know each other more and more… That was something only his soul could gift you.

“Talkin’ ‘bout complainin’, is everything alright there, babe? Or did the toilet swallow you?”

“Oh, you know. Just a couple of sewer demons, I’ll be done with them in nooo time.” Your answer made both of you laugh – although, sewer demons were indeed an annoying breed of devils. “I’ll be out soon, red devil, chill out. I have a surprise for you.”

“What…? Surprise…?”

That suddenly kicked into his head: it was Christmas. Dante had completely forgotten about it. He was so used to not celebrating, that going about it like a normal day was just average to him. All the lights in the street, the snow, the songs, the smells of Christmas food… It was something he had learned to ignore.

“Oh, babe… You…”

But Dante’s mumbles were interrupted as soon as you emerged from the bathroom wrapped around the red ribbon; a perfect big bow resting on the top of your head as you opened your arms. You found him sitting on the bed, shirtless, stretching his legs after a tiring day of hunting – his dumbfounded sky-blue eyes staring at you in awe for the couple of seconds you took him by surprise.

“Merry Christmas, cowboy!” You giggled back, a wide smile on your lips. “I couldn’t buy you a present, so…” You signaled to yourself, opening your arms again right after.

“Damn. I love you, babe. Have I told you that already…?” Dante murmured with a beautiful big smile on his lips, taking your hand on his as you approached. “Merry Christmas, beautiful. Sorry I couldn’t get ya a present this year.”

“It’s ok. You’re already my present, big guy.”

Dante just kissed you in return as you sat on his lap. The only way for you to know how much your words meant to him, was by the rhythm of his heart, beating like fiery drums.

He wouldn’t mind receiving that Christmas gift every year.

Vergil

The last demon fell on the floor, slayed by your very own ghostly white Mirror Edge. Your hands were covered in blood, as well as the snow covering the ground in that Christmas night.

The moon was high in the sky, celebrations already starting to come to an end inside homes all over Redgrave. Vergil once told you there were times of the year, usually celebrated by witches and occultists in general, that held power – and Christmas time was one of them.

You had to take a different job than Vergil in order to keep demons at bay that night; returning home, then, was a lone path. Quietly walking in the streets, you kept your hands warm inside your pockets, watching as people went back home or just turned off the lights to go to sleep.

“I do recall Christmas at my family’s home…” Vergil said calmly, watching the snow falling outside while he kept his hands warm with the cup of fancy tea you brewed for the night. “It all seems like a distant memory. I…” He halted his words, furrowing his brows as Vergil carefully chose his words. He wasn’t one to speak without intention and, when it came to his feelings, he always struggled to find the right words. “…Spent too much time in Hell. Time itself is a concept forgotten on those lands.”

“Hmmm. Were you aware of the passage of years…?” You kept focusing on your painting; sitting in front of it, you let Vergil speak, paying attention to his words but being careful not to overwhelm him with attention. He raised his eyes to you, watching as your hands carefully painted the snow from the night outside – Vergil knew it required trust from you to allow him to watch you creating something.

“Sometimes…” He let out a deep, controlled sigh. There was a type of tug inside his chest every time he talked about those memories; as if something inside him was twisting and leaving him breathless. “Some minutes seemed like years… And some years seemed like seconds. I only realized how much time had passed when I saw Dante for the first time.”

“Huh. Makes sense…” You muttered, making him raise one eyebrow. You reached for something on your paint desk and Vergil gave you your teacup – he always feared you would accidentally take a sip of dirty paint water in your moment of being absorbed by your art. He had done that countless times while reading; it was something he wasn’t proud of. “I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to know what year it was if I was falling apart after crawling out of Hell. Makes sense you only noticed when V united with Urizen again.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with a subtle nod, brewing your words inside his mind. You seemed to be the only person he could openly talk with and not be judged – there was something of welcoming about it. “I… Forgot. How Christmas is like. I know the memories; I know the traditions. But I don’t know the feeling anymore… I see just a ritual that only has meaning if people believe in it. In Hell, no one believes in anything; the only thing keeping you alive is a small light of hope that one day you will make it out of there. The rest…” And Vergil did a vague gesture with his hand, preparing to take another sip of his tea. “Is frivolous.”

“Only survival matters.” As you added, he nodded alongside you.

“And keeping yourself. Not allowing your soul to die. If you lose that, not even your body can bring you back.”

That conversation with Vergil marked you. They were just a few words before he went back to reading and you focused again on your painting, singing a couple of songs ever time your heart felt like it. Surprisingly, it was something Vergil enjoyed while reading – as well as mindlessly massaging your feet and calves you usually rested on his lap while both of you were concentrated on something else.

Vergil was easing back on Christmas. It was a lot of work – he wasn’t specially loved by anyone but you and Dante in the crew, but everyone was warming up to the blue devil. Trish and Lady found it easier to welcome him given their history together, and Nero was working on his own feelings of having a father – and one who didn’t even know him, to top that. The first Christmas together was a miracle and the second Christmas, Vergil already showed he was a lot better at thinking of gifts than Dante – they usually didn’t remember people actually expected to receive something, but Vergil always knew each one’s preferences.

He never expected anything back, though. It had something to do with him atoning for his sins, but there was something else as well. If you didn’t get in the festive spirit, Vergil wouldn’t get into it as well. Time and important dates were a real struggle to the blue devil – as he said before, there wasn’t such a thing in Hell.

Vergil was completely tone deaf when it came to noticing the passage of time: it was common between you two a few reality checks. Vergil usually approached and you helped him make sure what he was living was real – not one of his many hallucinations when incarcerated – and when were you. “When” as in how many weeks had passed since an important event, how many months, how many hours. That way, you helped him with his time dissonance.

He probably didn’t even remember it was Christmas… It was your job to remind him, then.

As Vergil entered your room, he could hear the shower as your voice entangled around the notes of water in a song he didn’t recognize – not that he needed to, for Vergil loved hearing you sing.

Leaving his coat on the back of the chair, he sat on the bed to take off his boots. It was a relief, really. The moment the day ended, and he came back home – it had been a very long time Vergil didn’t really have a routine of winding down, changing to comfortable clothes and sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. He always took some time to close his eyes and feel the ground under his feet, focusing on how grounding that was.

His heart seemed to go back to its own place – a forgotten place in his chest, filled with a warm sense of safety. He could only define it as the feeling of love and protection he longed during all his years of seemingly endless suffering.

There were days in Hell that indeed felt like an eternity. Sometimes, Vergil questioned if everything he was living with you was real – working in the Devil May Cry, talking to his brother again, getting to know his son. It was a dream, and dreams were prone to ending.

Shaking his head, Vergil took a deep breath before taking his boots and opening the closet to keep them safe and sound in their proper place. The next piece was his vest, carefully kept in a drawer.

Vergil calmly went back to the desk, in order to get his coat and hang it inside the closet – hearing while you turned off the shower and started to dry yourself, still humming your song of choice. It was one you had shown him before, that he could identify.

As soon as his fingers touched his coat, Vergil furrowed his eyebrows – his eyes meeting an envelope with his name atop of his read of that month. That was your handwriting; that he was certain.

Taking the envelope between his fingers, Vergil turned it around, finding the words “Merry Christmas”.

Oh.

He had forgotten about Christmas.

Vergil stared at a lost spot on the wall for a while, internally complaining about his lack of awareness of important dates in a human world. Shaking his head once again, he finally opened the envelope, finding a simple piece of paper with your handwriting – a poem, by the way you framed it on the sheet of paper.

“When I believed life was concrete and coal

You made my heart rain gold

Dripping like honey over your chest and arms

I want to glimmer with you amid the stars

Your breath caught on my lips, kept in my soul

Your sparkle entangled in my hands, I will never let go

In the silence of the Universe, witnessed only by Venus and Mars

I give you, my love, my soul and my heart.”

Vergil didn’t know that poem.

He read those words again and again, breaking the meaning and feeling behind them. His silvery eyes had never seen them before, but there was something of different… Something that seemed to wrap around his heart and make his eyes threaten to feel more than he usually allowed them to feel.

Until he found the little note on the bottom of the paper.

I know it isn’t perfect, love, but I wrote this poem for you. It’s the sincerest thing I can give you this Christmas. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it.

“Oh, you found it.” Vergil was lifted out of his storm of thoughts by your voice, recently emerged from the bathroom. He turned around, having a stern look on his face and his hands holding the single piece of paper for dear life. “Merry Christmas, my dear. I hope you like your present. I didn’t have time to buy anything, and I wanted to give you something meaningful.”

Without any words, Vergil approached you with the same resolution he did when he had an enemy in sight. You just looked at him, trying to understand his reactions – Vergil was always a box of surprises. He never reacted like everyone else did, but it was to be expected after all he had been through.

You were caught completely by surprise when he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his body – his face hidden in the curve of your neck. His heart was aligned with yours; and that made you smile.

It was the first time Vergil was the subject of a heartfelt poem – not just a heartless reader searching for some tenderness.

I blame Duff McKagan’s Tenderness for that last line and overall feeling of this ending part

youtube

This Tenderness. I love this man, I love this song, and it was Vergil written all over. It's also really comforting on trying times, give it a listen ;)

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