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devildomdisaster · 3 years ago

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Comfort spell gone wrong (the dateables)

Anonymous asked: for the lore Olympus ask but with the dateables. (Deleted this ask by accident but here it is)

Comfort spell gone wrong

Not only had the brothers been completely horrible the past few weeks but even your friends in purgatory hall and Diavolo himself had been too busy for you.

You understood that Simeon was busy helping Luke work through some things. But still, being brushed aside after the brothers had been so cruel towards you hadn’t helped your crumbling self-worth.

Solomon had heaved a big sigh and told you “They're demons Mc. It’s what they do. You’re going to have to grow a thicker skin. Besides, I don’t have time to help you with something so trivial.” Before handing you a page from a spellbook “if you really can’t deal with it yourself use this for comfort.”

You’d undeniably ruined Barbatos’s hard work when you’d tripped and tipped over the cake he’d been working on all morning. The demon had shooed you from his domain with barely concealed rage and asked you not to come back until “you can prevent yourself from causing me more work.”

Diavolo, despite always telling you you could come to him with your troubles, had snapped that Solomon seemed to be doing just fine. “So maybe you need to try harder, Mc. Rather than blaming your problems on other people.”

The spell Solomon had given you seemed simple enough. Although it was in an unfamiliar mix of Latin and Infernal. Couldn’t hurt to try though. At least not anymore than you were already hurting. You’d cast the spell, stumbling through a few words and thinking it hadn’t worked when nothing happened. Figures you couldn’t do it, you were still new to magic and just as useless at it as everyone had so kindly reminded you the last few days. It still sapped your energy though, stupid spell. You closed your eyes thinking that maybe it was better that the spell didn’t work. You’d never live down the embarrassment if anyone found out you tried to use a comfort spell.

Lucifer calls the others asking if anyone has seen you, after several days of radio silence from you. Solomon, Luke, and Simeon rush to the house of Lamentation once they hear you haven’t been seen for days. They find Lucifer and the brothers crowded around you, worriedly discussing the spell which has covered you and your room in vines. Babratos and Diavolo are already there, both looking guilty. Solomon feels his stomach drop when he recognizes the page from the spellbook.

“Lucifer, I recognize that spell, I gave it to them when-” Solomon begins

“Yes, it figures you would have your hands in this Solomon.” Lucifer glares.

It’s Simeon who steps forward to undo the spell, giving Luke’s shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way by. “Lucifer if you would,” he says gesturing to your form “this will take both our magics to undo, I believe.”

Solomon:

Shit, shit! Solomon recognizes that spell! He gave it to you.

It wasn’t supposed to do this, it was just a simple comfort spell!

But he can’t help feeling responsible for what's happened.

He feels like he should have known, should have realized something was going on when he gave you that spell.

You’d just wanted to talk, but he was so caught up in trying to find a way to make pacts with the brothers that he totally brushed you off.

He handed you a page out of a spellbook instead. And told you to deal with things yourself.

Solomon is crushed. He has always told you that if you ever need to talk to another human, he’d be there. But he wasn’t. He told you to deal with it alone.

When Simeon and Lucifer break the spell he is by your side in an instant.

Hands fluttering over your body, brushing withering plants off you. Feeling utterly useless.

The spell had gotten so convoluted and twisted in ways he’d never seen before, he hadn’t even been able to break it.

You blink your eyes open, Solomon’s distraught face coming into focus.

“Mc, I shouldn’t have given you that spell. I’m so sorry. I-I said I’d always help you if you needed me but all I did was hurt you instead.”

He wants to distance himself from you. But he knows that won’t make you feel any better. It won’t make him feel better either.

Instead, he’ll be far more careful with the magic he gives you. He’ll start teaching you more magic, so you can practice spells safely.

But he’ll also do his best to make sure you never need a comfort spell again.

He wants to be your comfort.

Solomon will plan elaborate outings and magic filled dates. He gets all these grand ideas and half of them turn into disasters but somehow he’ll make sure the two of you still have fun.

It’s easy for Solomon to forget that he needs to communicate better. But he’s trying. Instead of snapping at you again he’ll be sure to set aside time for himself. Besides, being in the Devildom is more fun with an apprentice anyways, plus teaching you magic gives him plenty of time to make sure you are happy too.

Simeon:

Simeon is shocked when he sees you.

A shiver runs down his spine when he feels the spell sucking the energy from your body.

His eyes don’t miss the botched comfort spell on the ground and he wonders why you didn’t come to him.

And then he realizes. You did. But he brushed you off to help Luke and even when you were hurting you didn’t want to burden him.

He feels like he’s failed you by making you feel like you couldn’t come to him.

When you open your eyes Simeon is the first thing you see.

He gently brushes the plants from your face and hair.

“Oh my sweet little lamb, you are never a burden to me. I am so sorry I made you feel you couldn’t come to me.”

Simeon brings you to Purgatory hall while your room is cleaned.

He gently untangles bits of plant matter from your hair, humming what must be some Celestial lullaby to you.

“Mc,” he begins once he’s removed the remaining plants from your hair and skin, and you’ve allowed yourself to relax into him. “Forgive me, Mc. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”

He is being so gentle with you. But his voice takes a stern edge as he tells you “Next time you feel like this, promise me you will come to me. If you tell me what’s going on I will always have time for you.”

Simeon makes sure to check in on you now, to make time for you. He’ll invite you to Purgatory hall for dinners and/or sleepovers. Oftentimes Luke joins you. But sometimes he’ll sneak you in so the sleepover is your little secret.

Diavolo:

Oh, Mc! He hasn’t seen a spell like this in centuries.

He knows it’s a mistake, but the power it must have taken to cast this spell is impressive.

He’s curious to know what kind of power you’ll have after you’ve been trained properly.

That not to say he isn’t concerned, it's just he knows the spell can be undone, and he finds it easier to deal with the situation if he doesn’t think about how close he came to losing you.

He’ll request that the brothers keep a closer eye on you, not that they weren’t going to anyway.

Diavolo will scoop you from the tangled vines, brushing the remaining vines from your skin as he carries you from your room.

He sits down on his throne, with you still held in his arms. For a moment you're afraid of his thunderous expression.

And then his eyes soften. “Mc,” he whispers. Emotion making his throat tighten, choking off his voice. “Why?”

“Why don’t you find a human who can do better than me Diavolo? You said so yourself, I’m a disappointment.”

“Mc, I didn’t mean! I didn’t want you to-! I didn’t”

He knows what he said. But he never meant for you to take it to heart like this. He was just stressed and he took it out on you.

“I’m sorry, Mc. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You haven’t disappointed me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you can’t rely on me. Please understand that I would do anything in my power for you.”

A frightening promise from the prince of the Devildom.

Diavolo is careful to control himself in the future. To prevent himself from letting his stress and anger get the better of him.

Careful to remind you how important you are to him, and not just because you are an exchange student, but because he cares for you.

Barbatos:

Anger. Fear. Barbatos tumbles between the two emotions.

It seems that by placing you in this timeline to protect you from Belphagor’s anger he has put you in a new kind of danger. One he didn’t see coming.

This makes him question his decision not to look into the future more than necessary.

Humans are so fragile. And this is just more proof of that fact.

Barbatos is by your side the moment you wake up.

He is lifting you to your feet and guiding you from your room.

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman as he helps you clean up. Helping you scrub the plants from your skin, wrapping you in the softest blankets.

But he remains silent the whole time.

Once you are safely tucked into bed Barbatos speaks. “Mc, I know I have made you feel useless. I should not have taken my anger out on you. I should have known better.”

For a moment you think he’s going to leave, that that’s all he is going to say.

But then he asks if he can stay with you. If the answer is yes, he’ll curl around you in your bed. Holding you to him as if you are likely to disappear.

It has been a long time since Barbatos has had something or someone he has been afraid to lose. “I’m sorry Mc. Please know you can come to me, even if I may be upset. I’d rather you make me face my shortcomings then lose you.”

Barbatos starts having you over for tea more often. He’ll take you on errands with him, if he thinks you’d find them at all interesting.

Mostly he just wants more excuses to spend time with you.

This made him realize how important you are to him and he’ll make sure you know it.

Luke:

Scared little sibling vibes.

Luke is so scared to see you like this!

You are so still and pale that he thinks you might be dead.

When you open your eyes he is so relieved.

Please don’t scare him like this again!

He’s got tears in his eyes, and he half yells half cries at you “Mc! You- you can’t just do something like this. What if- if you had died? I know these demons-” he shoots a watery glare at the demons “can make you feel sad but you’re my friend.”

He’ll ask you to stay at Purgatory hall for a while. He 100% thinks this is all the brother’s fault.

In fact he wants you to move into Purgatory hall permanently and he is so insistent that Diavolo might just let you if that's what you want.

He’ll make sure you know that he sees you as a big sibling, a friend that he could never replace “so please don’t think nobody cares Mc. I know we’re not really related but you’re like a sibling to me.”

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technowoah · 3 years ago

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Cant Handle This

Quackity's facade keeps breaking, and he tries to keep the pieces together. You're the only one who can make him show his true self

- Quackity x gen neutral reader

- this is a long one yall.

Now playing...

Can't Handle This (Kanye Rant)

Bo Burnham

0:01 ─●──────── 3:29

⚠︎ swearing, angst, mentions of mcyttwt, based on the song above, and ofc its not proofread

Part of my Inside Special!

Quackity sat in his chair currently streaming right now, he seemed like he was having a good time from your spot on his bed. You were currently laying on his bed after he invited you here to relax.

You two had laid in his bed just enjoying eachothers company until he got a call from Tommy saying he was ready for the lore stream which sent Alex into a frenzy. Alex sent out a quick "Im sorry" about the lateness of his stream and then quickly set everything up.

He then started to stream which left you alone on the the bed to your own devices. You were scrolling through Twitter looking at Alex's fans talk about what's happening on the stream and posting screenshots of his character and himself.

You admired him from afar as he ended the lore part of his stream, he took time to type on his phone to text you that he decided to stream longer to talk to his fans. He looked to you and you have him a nod with a smile and he gave one back.

"Hey guys! That's the end of the lore!" He exclaimed to his chat as he types at his computer setting a new background.

You continued to listen to him praise his chat for supporting him and making him be able to make those types of streams. You were always proud of Alex no matter what he did, you were always his number one supporter no matter what happened in reality or on the internet.

"So anyways! I wanted to talk to you guys! How are you all?" He smiled at his camera looking back and forth from his chat.

◇T0mm71nn1t: THE STREAM WAS SO GOOD QUACKITY

"Oh thank you! Im glad I could share this with you. It takes so much to put into these movite type streams, so I know now it is all worth it."

Quackity's pov. . .

He felt so overwhelmed, he shouldn't have began to stream again. The stress of putting everything together, plus being late to the stream made him rush into it more. He just wanted to lay back down with his lover who was enjoying watching him stream, and that's the goal he wants. His goal was to entertain, it was his job and he doesn't want to fail, he doesn't want to crack.

◇Mayatooni3: WE LOVE YOU QUACKITY

◇catiiequak: QUACKITY ITS MY BIRTHDAY CAN I GET A HAPPY BIRTHDAY??

◇yriaaolic: 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

"Happy Birthday!" He said seeing the comment pass in a second. "Happy Birthday to anyone who's Birthday it is today."

Right now it was hard. It was hard to keep up when there was always a constant demand, the constant need to be perfect, his past being brought up, and trying to one-up his content everytime. He loved this, but at the same time it had the same weight as a job.

In the back of his mind he knew the "When is Quackity streaming???" is mostly lighthearted, he never wants to leave.

"Quack are you okay? Im fine! Just thinking about how to get something to eat at 2am." He laughed lying to his fans, he wanted to stop this stream.

He kept looking over to his lover lying their head on his pillow scrolling through their phone and alternating their vision from him and their phone. He always caught a glimpse of their small smile everytime he looked. He was doing something right.

"Do yall think Taco Bell is open? The only problem I have is that Im fucking starving."

He paused for a moment taking a deep breath trying to keep his emotions down. The stress was getting to him, and he fucking knew it, but he didnt stop. He was going to get burnt out eventually and stop streaming and YouTube all together, but he needed this. He needed a break, he needed to take time for himself and stop putting on a happy face when he isnt.

TTS ◇pulixsaxe: "Did you see what was happening on Twitter quackity?"

"Wait what's happening on Twitter?" He asked with a weary laugh.

I can sit here and pretend like my biggest problems are

Pringle cans, and burritos

The truth is, my biggest problem's you,

Your eyes widened as he mentioned Twitter. Truth be told he was trending because of his stream, yes, but also they brung up stuff from his past again in the wake of another content creator's past or present being brought up. You hadn't paid attention to that, you were only getting fueled up from Twitter bringing up an issue that he already had addressed.

Tempted to speak and tell him its fine, he already spoke up before you.

"I bet it's fine! I dont wanna... I don't need to look." He said with a smile. He always had that smile on.

Either it was a full smile or a half smile. It never left his face and it comforted you somehow. Maybe it was that you were his significant other, but you always wondered if anyone saw the same things as you. The things like his smile that never left his face.

"Yeah! I dont need to look at that." He waved his hand dismissing the comment away. He then sighed letting his shoulders relax as you saw his smile fade and his eyes close for a second and immediately put that small smile back on his face while his eyes were glossy, but bright.

He needed to end this stream soon. You saw his face fall then in a split second come back to life except his eyes were glossy with tears. You wondered if anyone else noticed.

"I want to please you

But I want to stay true to myself

I want to give you the night out that you deserve"

His eyes tearful as he tried to blink them away trying to not make a scene.

"Sorry! Allergies ugh!" He said as he wiped his tears away claiming them as allergies.

"Are you crying? No! Im not a pussy!" He yelled at his chat in a joking manner.

He was crying and he felt weak. He felt emotionally weak, and weak as in not strong, he didn't feel strong and his lover who was sitting on his bed with a concerned look on their face always told him that it's okay to feel weak. The only meaningful thing is how you pick yourself up, they always told him, bur now he felt at rock bottom.

He wanted to give his fans "himself", the goofy, lovable, loud, quick-witted, Quackity. But then again his lover always told him to separate Quackity from Alex. He wanted to give himself to his audience, he wanted to be authentic and share himself, but he cant. Alex isn't all laughs, he is serious, calmer, and when he gets on the screen is when he lets it all out then goes back to his more calmer self. That's not what they want.

"But I want to say what I think

And not care what you think about it"

Giving himself meant dialing back, he wants to tell how hes actually feeling, he wants to say what he thinks about Twitter, what he thinks about certain friends, about his fanbase, and then leave it alone. He wanted to delete social media and then speak his mind without knowing what anyone is saying about it. It was paradise to him, but of course it cant be that way and that's what he hates. He feels like a actor when he really wants to be himself.

"A part of me loves you,"

Alex loved his fanbase, he had such a supportive fanbase that loved his content. Some of them did atleast he didn't fully know, but they gave him the courage to do this time and time again knowing that his content is at least taking them from the harsh reality of real life for a few minutes or hours. This was the reason he did this, for them.

Alex would never admit this but they boosted his ego too, it would for anyone. The fact that there were people who wanted and enjoyed content from him made him feel good about himself.

"part of me hates you"

He hated the contant criticisms, he hates that they feed his ego so much that it makes him want to stream more to feel good about himself and to make people get away for awhile. Alex knew inside of his heart he couldn't truly hate his fanbase, they gave him everything he ever wanted. He hates them for that and that's such a scary thing. He never fails to wonder if he did the things to deserve all the love and hate he gets.

"Part of me needs you,"

They feed his ego, they make him want to go above and beyond. Alex knows that his fanbase is the reason he is here in this chair infront of three expensive monitors. He knows that this is some sort of a job that he needed. He needed the push to keep going and that was them, it was the 200k people watching his stream watching him answer questions about him and

"part of me fears you"

He was fearful of loosing himself to them. Loosing his authenticity to them was something he feared. He didnt want his funny, loud persona to consume him and make him forget about Alex instead of Quackity. He fears what they think as well, he claims he doesnt care, but he does he wants to please them. It feels like two parts of his brain fighting about if he should care or not.

"And I don't think that I can handle this right now"

The text-to-speech bot continued to speak out people's comments that theu paid for while he sat there quietly. He bit his bottom lip trying to not break down infront of everyone he needed to be strong. He needed to be strong.

If he looked up at the camera everyone would see his tears, they would see him breaking.

He played it off as he brough his shirt up to wipe the tears away, claiming it as sweat.

"Im good! Im sorry I spaced out for a second." He shook his head.

He saw you look at him with that same concerned look on your face. As he switched his gaze between you and his computer, he felt his tears come back again.

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

"Alex." You tried to get his attention.

"Yeah guys Im fine!"

"Alex"

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

"I have plans later for another lore stream, so Ill start doing that later tonight."

"ALEX!" You yelled and his head turned around to face you.

"What?" He laughed, biting his lip again.

You couldn't stop him doing this, you could try to course him into going to bed, but right now you couldn't find the words. You just stared at him while he looked at you with a somber smile trying to tell you that he was okay.

He felt his mind telling himself that he need to rest. He wouldnt allow himself to and thats why he was breaking down.

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

Alex was blinking rapidly trying to keep his breathing and tears at bay while he answered his fans.

"My allergies are fine! And I drank water today."

◇moonchild21: WE LOVE YOU

◇sopusand: Why do you look like that?

◇wuackityoo: are you crying??

"Crying is for the weak! I am a strong manly man! Im crying cause I noticed how alpha I am!" He tried to play it off as a "Im a man" joke but you could see right through it.

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

You had sent a quick text to Alex which told him to end the stream for his own mental health, but he left the message unread. He began sniffing and the wiping his eyes again. It was a wreck and you couldn't seem to stop it without literally dragging him out of his chair.

Meanwhile the screens were getting to Alex. Alex's eyes were getting tired of the bright screens and the rapid messages that popped up on the screen overwhelmed him for what it seemed like the first time ever in his strraming career. He wanted to give them the fun night they deserved and wanted, but he knows it's getting hard to. He dosent know how long he can keep this up.

As Alex kept joking around about his eyes and physical state the chat was filled with "LMAO" and "HAHAHA" which fuled him more and then at the same time makes him want to stop.

Look at them, they're just staring at me, like

"Come and watch the skinny kid with a

Steadily declining mental health, and laugh as he attempts

To give you what he cannot give himself"

He cannot give himself the luxury of happiness. As he went on with his career it became more and more like a chore, there was mostly down days and of course there were up days, but recently Alex gave his fans the happiness and laughes they wanted while when he turned off the camera he couldn't replicate that same energy as he had before.

It messed him up, he felt himself become separated from his streaming. He wasn't being himself anymore he was being Quackity and that became more apparent as the days passed. He wanted to be himself on camera and at first thats what he thought he was doing. He was himself then it turned into a persona.

Alex wasn't okay and he he needed to take a break from the internet for a while, but he tries to act like he dosent have a dilemma going on inside of his head everytime he sits in this seat. Its for the fans.

"Think that I can handle this right-

I don't think that I can handle this right-

They don't even know the half of this right-

They don't even know the half of it"

"Alex you need to end the stream. Please?"

He looked towards you again where you moved your position from the middle of the bed to sitting up on the end of the bed.

"Ive told you millions of times." He paused for a moment looking down at his lap before looking back up to you. "Im-Im okay." He nodded trying to convince you.

"But I know I'm not a doctor, I'm a pussy, I put on a silly show

I should probably just shut up and do my job, so here I go"

"Cant you belive them!" He laughed to his camera. You scoffed at his comment but still kept an eye on him as he talked.

You didnt need to baby him at all, but right now you were worried about your lover.

Alex continued talking and talking, which you drowned out. You were focused on his face and how he faltered time to time just showing a small frown.

He laughed and showed them a good time even though he was hurting. He kept going and going and you were convinced he was going to hold out until you heard him sniff multiple times while trying to make a joke about the new Minecraft update and how the glow squid has no use.

"Stupid ass squid! Why- why? Its no use expect for glowing ink. Who voted for that!?"

You can tell them anything if you just make it funny, make it rhyme

And if they still don't understand you, then you run it one more time

"Dumbass squid!" He pulled up a picture if the squid as he yelled at it.

You began to worry even more as you saw tears running down his face. He quickly tried to wipe them away, but he knew everyone saw.

Handle this right

You don't even know the half of this right now

Right now (Haa!)

Now

Handle this right

I'll handle this right, I handle this right now

Alex leaned back in his seat and had a blank stare towards the monitor. Looked down for a second and then you heard sobbing coming from his spot. Alex had his head in his hands and was crying harshly into them.

He had finally broken, he couldn't stop the tears from coming and the loud sobs that came from his mouth. He was trying to desperately breathe in to be able to sob, but ended up hiccuping while doing so.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to him resting your hand on his knees and you kneeling infront of him.

"I cant do fu-fucking anything!" He yelled into his hands.

"Hey! I know. Its okay." You tried to console him.

"Its not I try so hard! And I-"

You cut him off. "You are a hard worker Alex and you deserve a week or two off. Take care of you self babe." You stood up bringing his hand with you and trying to make him stand up. He followed your movements and stood up with you putting his head on your shoulder crying into it.

"I just ca-cant right now!"

"You dont have to do anything right now babe."

"Im sorry!" Alex sobbed.

"Dont be." You said bluntly trying to get your lover to calm down.

You rubbed his back soothingly as he sniffled into your shoulder. "Im sorry for ruining your shirt." He tried to laugh through his tears.

"Dont be sorry! Please. You just need rest okay?" You kissed his forehead and he nodded in response.

Alex raised his head up an started to pepper kisses all over your face as you laughed. He gave you one last peck on the lips as he walked away to quickly change into night clothes. You smiled as he laid underneath the covers and continued to softly cry into his sheets. At least he was in bed and not makijg himself even worse.

He couldn't stop the tears from flowing, it was like a flood that could only be stopped with time. He felt like a boulder was lifted off his shoulders only to be replaced with smaller rocks. The smaller rocks was the guilt he held. He felt guilty of making his lover worry about him, he didnt want you to worry.

You rushed over to his desk and turned off the stream and his computers not even bothering to give them a goodnight or goodbye. After the computer lights were turned off it was quite dark in the room except for small light.

Finally you were where you wanted to be all day, in bed with Alex. But this wasnt the predicament you wanted.

"Forgive me. I just cant do shit right can I?" His eyes were still full of tears and he was getting tired.

"Alex dont listen to anyone but yourself." You tried to console him.

"That's what I'm telling myself."

Silence filled the room as you looked at him through tearful eyes of your own.

"Alex, you're so amazing and I cant even tell you how much I appreciate you, and how much you change my life. You do so much shit right its scary sometimes. Some days I think you're perfect, but there's-"

"There's no such thing as perfect." Alex finished your sentence.

"Exactly! Even the best people have their downfalls, they just dont show it. And Alex I know you struggle with that! All I can say is that I love you for you." You finished.

"Can I talk to you about my dilemmas?" He tried to laugh again.

"Tomorrow we can talk. We both need the rest." You said to him as he closed his eyes and nodded in response. He gave you a kiss on you lips before laying back down to sleep.

"Thank you."

"Thank you

Good night

I hope you're happy"

TRENDING

ARE YOU OKAY

10.1k tweets

QUACKITY

20k tweets

ARE YOU OKAY QUACKITY?

13.7k tweets

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wendimydarling · 4 years ago

Text

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112 gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira for betaing!

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death.

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.”

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already.

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet.

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me.

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls.

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker fan fiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fan fic #august walker smut #vampire!august #non-con tw

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maeve-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: General

Warnings: Mostly fluff, slight angst.

Summary: Request: Could I request a Dean one-shot, where he finally wants to propose to R, but is starting to doubt himself and Sam has to reassure him and encourage him to finally do that step. Set in somewhere between season 12 and 13. R is Dean's best friend.

a/n: Inspired by Pentatonix’s arrangement of Can’t Help Falling in Love.

Previously posted on @plaided-ani

When he first met you, you were sitting on a park bench reading a book about Sumerian history and cross referencing with a small text on cuneiform, your nose wrinkled in thought and the tip of your tongue set between your teeth. You were the local expert on mythological lore according to the university and often took your lunches in the park when the weather was right and if Dean was lucky, he’d find you there. And he was.

That was several years ago and you had gotten to know the Winchesters very well. You knew what they did and the evils that they faced, luckily you weren’t caught up in the crossfire. Much. They called you often when Sam was too busy to look up something himself or Dean was too tired and annoyed to listen to Sam drone on about this or that. You always got straight to the point, told them what they needed to know and that was that.

You had your own pocket in Kansas, safe and sound from the big and the bad and the boys would stop in from time to time. They often brought you dinner when you were researching for your job and not for a case which meant you would forget about eating and drinking and sleeping to get your work done. Dean more often than not made you put down the pen or the tablet and ‘just hang out like normal people’. “You’re not normal people,” you always told him.

“I am when I’m with you,” he always replied back.

He’d often texted you when he got downtime. He hated emojis and gifs, but you’d send them to him anyway and he’d find one to send back, always with a short, grumpy text to go with it. You’d Facetime him when you stayed late nights at the office when he was sitting up in his bed at the bunker, relaxed and at peace, if only for the moment. You wouldn’t talk much, but he was happy to watch you work in silence.

They invited you to the bunker when things weren’t crazy and you always accepted. Their books were fascinating and they would let you load up boxes of texts that you’d call ‘light reading’ and that always got a chuckle out of Dean. But they’d make you stay for dinner and movie and eventually you got your own room set up for nights when you were too drunk to drive or it was too late to bother.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but Dean could feel the change in himself when he was with you. Your smile made his heart flutter, your laughter made his belly coil up like a spring, and the mere thought of you had his skin flushed all over. “That’s love,” Sam told him over grocery store meatloaf. “You’re in love.”

And he was, head over heels and weak in the knees. But in Dean’s life, he couldn’t afford to be in love. He couldn’t have the slow burn of a happy-go-lucky relationship, no courtship or honeymoon phase. He shouldn’t want you like he does. No, he shouldn’t need you like he does, but he can’t help him. In his fucked up world of demons and bloodshed and death, you were the one shining beacon in his life that lit his way home.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me,” he decided one day over bacon and coffee. Sam was still sleep drunk and hummed in agreement. Later, his younger brother would question his sanity, tell him that you two weren’t even dating, why jump straight to marriage? But Dean wasn’t listening, he was Googling the closet jewelry shop.

He bought the best ring credit card fraud could buy and started to go over all the reasons why you would say yes. They’ve known you for at least six years and not once had you dated a single person to Dean’s knowledge. Your touches always lingered with him, your smiles always softer, more private. You had to have a thing for him, right?

But there were more reasons to say no. Being part of the Winchester clan meant that your life would be on the line and with the storm that was brewing, he wasn’t sure he could keep you safe along with Sam and their new charge Jack. And, like Sam said, you weren’t even dating, never kissed, never even held hands, why would you jump straight to the ball and chain?

“I’m not gonna do it,” Dean decided once he got back to the bunker with the ring in its box tucked in his pants and his hands full of food and beer. “You’re right, it’s a stupid idea.”

Sam sighed heavily and helped his brother divvy up the evening meal. “No, what I said was stupid. It’s obvious you two are crazy about each other, I choke on the sexual tension whenever I’m in the room with you.” Dean scowled at that, but Sam ignored it. “Y/N is a good egg. She’s stuck with us this long, maybe she’ll stick around longer with a ring on her finger.”

“Don’t call my future wife an egg,” Dean huffed.

“She’s a metaphorical egg,” Sam reassured. “The best kind, brown and organic from free range chickens.”

Dean held up a hand, “Stop. Just stop.”

But he called you three days later and asked if you were free for dinner. You were knee deep in research, but when weren’t you? If he allowed you access to the library when you finished eating, you’d agree and he had no objections with the idea.

You showed up in your best flowy thin cotton tee and yoga pants, hair up in a messy bun to find Dean waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a nervous smile on his face but in his best dress shirt and slacks and you figured he played a fed earlier. When you asked him what’s wrong, he said nothing and ushered you through the bunker to the kitchen. You casually mention Sam and Jack, but he told you they were off to see a movie and you shrugged sat across from him, noting the flowers and the candle and actual dinner plates. “Is this a date?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, opening a bottle of wine, or at least trying to.

“You should’ve told me,” you frowned, looking down at your casual attire, “I look like a bum.”

“I think you look beautiful,” he said with a fond smile, working the screw in the cork with some difficulty. When your cheeks flushed and your shoulders drooped, he set the wine aside and reached out for your hand. You took his in yours and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Beer okay?”

“Sounds great,” you answered, flustered beyond belief.

Dinner carried on like it normally did, the two of you talking about work and the latest show you binge watched. Nothing changed between you other than your feet entwining underneath the table, your hands reaching out for one another. At some point he joined you on your side and your limbs were all tangled, your lips finding solace in his and his tie became a little looser.

“Marry me,” he whispered against your lips when you parted for the hundredth time that night.

“Okay,” you replied, kiss drunk and in love. “When?”

He fished out a box and popped it open, “Sometime before I die?”

“We can leave now and be in Vegas by the morning,” you laughed, taking the ring out to slide on your finger. It was a size too big, but that could always be fixed.

“I’ll pack, you book the hotel?”

You smiled and pulled out your phone. You were going to give Dean a happy-ever-after one of these days and this is where it would start.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n

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dcforts · 5 years ago

Text

[monday 4: bet]

ao3

Four times Eileen thought Dean and Castiel were more than friends and one time Sam (finally) saw it too.

Eileen likes the bunker. As a hunter you learn to be grateful and appreciative of things that others give for granted. Like waking up feeling safe, knowing that nothing can jump right through your window and attack you. Like pressing your cheek on a soft pillow without having to worry about bed bugs and filth. Like opening your bedroom door and smelling coffee.

She smiles and follows it right to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect to find Castiel standing next to the coffee machine. He is in his usual attire, looking exactly as the last time she’s seen him. He looks up as soon as she enters and smiles politely at her. “Good morning” he says, “Would you like some coffee?”.

She smiles back, nods and waits for him to fill her a mug.

Then she sits at the table and watches as Dean appears on the door, his eyes sleepy, his hair messy, the belt of his robe loosely tied. He waves lazily in her direction then goes straight towards Castiel, holding out a hand to grab the mug that he was already offering him. No words between them, just soft smiles, as if it’s a thing they do every day. She has not been around the Winchesters that much but she is fairly sure she’s never seen a more content expression on Dean’s face.

He sits down next to her and closes his eyes, lost in the smell of the coffee.

“Good morning to me” she reads on his lips, with his eyes still closed, as if he’s talking to himself.

So, you know, Eileen is a very good observer. It’s a crucial skill for a hunter, especially someone who hunts alone and has no extra pair of eyes to rely on.

Later that day, Eileen and Sam are pressed against each other on a couch, both ignoring how “sharing a laptop” is a such a lame excuse for two adults to sit closely together. But whatever. Sam is showing her a restricted online archive about lore in European historical findings that he was able to crack into when she catches Dean passing by the door and she remembers about that morning.

“Sam,” she interrupts whatever he was saying on some magical old stones. “can I ask you a question?”

He nods. “Sure.”

“Castiel and your brother,” she signs, hoping that that’s enough input for Sam. Clearly it isn’t, because he keeps looking as if he’s expecting her to go on. “Are they… together?”

He frowns and ask: “Together? As in…?”

In response she signs: “Love.”

Sam has the funniest reaction. His face goes blank and he starts staring into the distance as if he’s processing a word he is not used to hear. He snaps out of it right when Eileen is wondering if she should wave a hand in front of his face. “No,” he says, “it’s not like that.”

She gives him a look as if to say “Please”.

“Really, they – they are like brothers.”

Eileen makes a disgusted face and signs: “Brothers?”

He makes an annoyed face back. “Yes. It’s not like that,” he repeats.

“They act like a couple,” she signs.

He shakes his head. “You are wrong.”

“It looks like there’s something more between them,” she insists in the face of his blunt denial. “Wanna bet?” she signs raising her eyebrows.

Sam frowns and signs: “I’m not betting on my brother.”

“Come on.” she says, then signs “If I win, I want you to cook for me.”

Sam laughs. “I can just do it. No need for any of this.”

She shakes her head and smiles: “Don’t worry, you will. When I win.”

ii.

They’ve been working like crazy, taking all kinds of jobs up and down the state. It’s tiring but as a team of four they can get it down in a fraction of the time it would take if they were on their own. Plus, it’s definitely more fun even if it feels like they barely have the time to put down their bags before something else comes up and they’re out of the bunker again.

This time, it looks like a simple enough job that could take two days top. Sam is checking their supplies once again and Castiel is sitting at the map table flipping through a magazine when Dean finally appears in the room.

“Alright, let’s go” he says clapping his hands together.

Sam looks up and makes an horrified face: “Wait. Dean, what are you wearing?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s a cowboy shirt.”

“You can’t wear that. With that thing on your shoulders. We are not going trick or treating.”

“Hey! Don’t insult the shirt.”

Eileen laughs at the exchange so Sam addresses her. “Eileen, please tell him.”

She just shrugs amused and Sam looks betrayed so Dean keeps going: “It’s not my fault we’ve been out all week and I didtn’t have time to do my laundry. This is the only clean thing I have left.”

“Well, you can’t come dressed like that. Just take one of mine.”

“You have freakishly long arms, Sam, I’m gonna look like I’ve shrunked in my clothes.”

Eileen turns to Castiel who seems engrossed in his magazine that has titles on the cover of the kind “Top 10 poisonous plants you can find in the jungle” right next to “What colours should you paint your garden shed”. It looks like he is used to it and knows that staying away from their arguments is the safest strategy to survive with the Winchesters. She taps him on his shoulder. “What do you think?” she signs, interrupting Dean and Sam who are still going at it.

Castiel looks up but Dean cuts him off before he can open his mouth: “Why are you asking him for? He has never changed once in his life.”

Castiel shoots him an annoyed look but doesn’t respond to the provocation. “Did you check the laundry room?” he says calmly instead.

Sam glances over his shoulder to look at him.

Dean just stares, seemingly confused.

“You always forget your clean clothes in the laundry room. There should be a red one that you haven’t wore this week yet. I assume it’s still there.”

Dean thinks about it for a few seconds, then nods: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Be right back.”

Castiel sighs and goes back to his magazine without another word.

Sam’s gaze meets Eileen’s. She raises her eyebrows and signs “Cute”.

Sam mouths back. “It means nothing”.

She just laughs and takes the stairs.

iii.

It’s a rainy afternoon and they are keeping busy cleaning their weapons and filling shotgun shells of rock salt. At some point Sam looks up from where he is sitting right next to Eileen.

“Hey Cas,” he says “remember that book that you were reading last week about sigils? I wondered if I could borrow that. I wanted to scan it and send it around to other hunters.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I’ll give to you later.”

“Oh, no, there’s no rush if you are still reading it.”

“It’s not bother. I’m not reading tonight anyway. I’m watching a movie with Dean.”

Dean, on the other side of the table, lifts his gaze for a moment at the sound of his name then goes back to his gun.

“O-okay, thanks.” says Sam.

Eileen meets his gaze briefly and holds back a smile.

Only when they are left alone she nudges him with an elbow and Sam knows immediately what she is going to address.

He grumbles: “They watch movies together all the time, they are friends!”

Eileen shakes her head. “But why haven’t they invited us?” she signs, then answers her own question: “Date night.”

“No, you don’t understand. Dean has been showing him all the stuff he doesn’t know.”

“I understand very well that I won the bet” she says challenging him.

Sam sighs and signs. “There is no bet. And it’s not like that.”

iv.

They are on a hunt. Well, actually they are at some kind of fair. The spirit they are chasing has shown up in all the towns that the travelling fair has hit in the past few months, so the safest bet is that it’s somehow hunting the place.

For now, they are just walking around in the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. They have a duffel bag full of salt, shotguns and blades but from the outside they just look like four people that have come out to enjoy the fair on a fine evening.

Dean is in a very good mood. “I can’t believe they still do these things” was his comment on the way there and since they’ve arrived he has been complaining that he can’t stop at none of the games before the job is done. Eileen finds endearing the way he manages to protect that part of him that makes him excited for things like that even with the life he has. It’s not easy to reconcile the image of that man with sparkly eyes with the one she has seen swaying a machete a couple of days before.

“Hey!” he shouts at one point, jogging a few feet ahead of them and waving to get their attention. “Guys, look, it’s Cas!” He stops at one of the stands and grabs a tan teddy bear with a blue tie that is on display. Sam snorts and Dean keeps grinning like it’s the funniest thing ever and points at Castiel who has an expression on his face that seems to say Did we really stop for this? “It’s you!” Dean laughs again “I bet you didn’t know you had a twin, uh?”

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam tries to get them moving again and Dean jogs back up to them and falls in steps with Castiel.

Eileen looks his way in time to see him put his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pull him close. His lips read: “What? It was adorable. Wanna win it for me later?”

She turns her face to look at Sam and finds him next to her.

“Adorable” she mouths at him. He rolls his eyes. “He just likes to joke”.

It happens again and again. Eileen looks pointedly at Sam when Dean pops into the kitchen to say “Me and Cas are going out. Need anything?” or when they find them engaged in a serious conversation or sharing a drink. She looks at him whenever Dean calls Castiel “Sunshine” and whenever Castiel asks “Where’s Dean?” before he even gets both of his feet in the room.

Sam dismisses every moment, finds every excuse for them. They’ve always been like that. Can’t two friends do it? Does it have to mean something? It’s just the way they are.

Now, Sam is in a sticky diner with his brother who is across from him and can’t seem to sit still. A couple of days before they got two calls in a matter of hours and they’ve gone north while Eileen has gone south. Coincidentally Cas has been contacted about a lead on God’s position so he’s gone too.

So it’s just the two of them again and Dean is tapping on the screen of his phone every two seconds as if he doesn’t trust that it will let him know if he has a new notification.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” snaps Sam when he can’t take anymore of his fidgeting.

“Cas.” he grumbles. “I texted him last night and I got no word back yet. We said we would check in with each other every night, so...” he frowns.

“I’m sure he is fine” Sam says, before thanking the waiter that brings them their food.

Setting down his plate his gaze falls on his own phone, and he is reminded of the last time he texted Eileen and she has taken a long time to reply. How he worried, how he needed to know she was fine. How he feels on his fingertips the need to type something to her right now. How he can’t wait to see her again.

He looks up at Dean who’s taking a bite of his burger.

“What?” he says with his mouth full in response to his staring,

Sam smiles a little. “Nothing.”

Dean takes another bite, still watching him so Sam sighs. “Dean,” he dares, “with Cas. I mean… is there…”

He gets interrupted by Dean’s phone lighting up with an incoming call. His brother drops his burger and picks it up without a care for his greasy hands.

“Finally.” He says, then presses it against his ear: “What did we say, uh? How many times I gotta tell you?” he barks in lieu of Hello.

Sam watches him while he listens to whatever Castiel is saying on the other end. He sees his forehead striped with worried lines relax by the second.

When Dean speaks again his voice is definitely softer. “You are an idiot, but alright. Yeah, we just got here,” the frown disappears and his voice goes quieter still, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you at home.” his eyes flicker to Sam and he clears his throat so when he speaks again his tone is back to normal. “Remind me to kick your ass for making me worry.”

Castiel says something back that Sam assumes sounds like You can try because Dean’s eyebrows rise comically. “What? You don’t think I can take you?” he says. “Yeah tough guy, anytime. Wanna bet?”

Sam tunes out. He touches his phone and opens up his conversation with Eileen. He types:

Alright, what do you want me to cook?

I am participating in the spnstayathomechallenge by @bend-me-shape-me @pray4jensen @helianthus21

#spnstayathome #monday 4: bet #deancas #destiel #deancas fanfiction #okay so 1 i really like 'like a bear dean'#2 i really like 'they are basically married deancas'#an unapologetic about it #no actual focus on sam and eileen even if in my head they are a thing in this one #saileen #hey look this one has a title #im making progress #i don't actually believe sam is this oblivious but i needed him to be #ive always wanted to write a 4 times + 1 kind of thing #i tried #deancas ficlet #deancas ficlets #my writing

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luna-redamancy · 5 years ago

Text

Obsession {Thranduil x F! Reader}

Authors note: So, this is a more happy-ending version of my Thranduil fic ‘Crazy’. It is nearly three times as long and my best fic yet (in my opinion). Note: I am writing a part two that will have smut if anybody is interested in that.

Warnings: Yandere themes, obsession, nothing too crazy

Word Count: 3043

Part Two (Smut)

The sun spilled over the tree branches, golden light highlighting a halo around her head. The aged book made her hands look so delicate and small as she read page after page, her mind far from reality as she delved deep into old lore. She was perfect. Thranduil stared with infatuated eyes, his chin propped up on his hand as he watched from a few trees away from her. Her features were ethereal, it seemed impossible for her to be human, but Thranduil knew she was sadly so.

He watched as her concentration was broken, the change in her eyes as she drifted back into reality, confusion overtaking her features. Listening closely, his eyebrows furrowed as he heard several females walking down the path, their high pitched cackles filling him with disdain as he watched her slowly rise.

“She’s such a bore!” The taller one groaned, holding her arms over her head to cool off from the sun’s heat.

“She never wants to do anything, she only wants to stay at home and read her books.”

Her expression changed from excited to confusion, hurt lacing over her features as she rested her head on the thick oak’s trunk.

“I don’t see why you both keep trying to invite her out then,” The smaller one spoke to the other two girls, huffing her hair out of her face. “You only asked her to be your friend so you could possibly court her brother instead,” She reminded, “-And then he died with the rest of his travelling company whilst going to Esgaroth.”

Biting her lip, she sank back to the ground, clutching her book to her chest. Unshed tears lining her eyes as she processed the conversation she heard.

“Interesting…” Thranduil mumbled, a smirk forming on his face. “She’s even better than I thought.”

Thranduil watched as his angel packed up her belongings, her gentle smile now replaced with a narrow frown as she disappeared from his sight.

“Soon my starlight, very soon.” He promised, as if she was upset about having to leave him.

The market was scuttling, people scurrying from one stall to the next, filling their wooden baskets with produce and trinkets to take home. The air was filled with the smells of sauces and freshly baked goods, the hollars of vendors trying to sell their goods filled your ears as you slipped through the crowd, your empty basket clutched to your chest as you avoided getting trampled over by the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out your skirt before you approached your favorite vendor, the farmer.

“Good morning Lady (Name)!” He greeted happily, finishing wrapping up some freshly made cheese.

“Good morning,” You responded with a small smile, examining the lettuce. “I have a deal going on today, five items for one silver coin.”

Your eyes widened in shock, “Really?” You questioned as you felt your smile widen as well. “Must’ve had a wondrous harvest then?” You asked as you grabbed lettuce, a tomato, a few carrots, and a stock of celery.

“Wondrous indeed.” He smiled at you as you passed him the coin from your purse. “Well, may good harvests continue to find you.” You bid your farewell as you move further down the market stalls.

“Oh my…”

“Is that--”

“King Thranduil!”

The crowd was reduced to gasps, everyone bowing once they saw their king approaching on his mighty elk. A small gasp left your throat as you saw him approach, carefully adjusting your skirt to bow as well. Thranduil held a gentle smile on his face, waving away everyone’s formalities as he dismounted.

“Now now everyone, no need to get into a fuss,” He teased as he began looking through the stalls, a thoughtful expression on his face as everyone went back to their business.

“Looking to start a new project?” Old Lady Idra questioned you as you approached her stall, eyeing the silvery blue ball of yarn. “I was thinking of making a new blanket for my bed, the winters have been getting colder and colder,” You explained, looking at her selection.

“Is that so?” Thranduil’s voice startled you, making you drop the yarn ball you were holding.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Thranduil apologized while he picked up the yarn ball, carefully placing it in your hands.

“Oh no, no need to apologize, My King.” You bowed your head in respect, moving to get out of his way so he could examine Idra’s stall.

“No need to move, I apologize for interrupting. I was concerned when you said the winters are getting colder?” Thranduil frowned slightly when he noticed you wouldn’t look him in the eye.

Carefully tipping your chin upwards, Thranduil grinned when you finally made eye contact. A blush formed on your cheeks as you smiled back. The smell of him filled your nostrils, his beauty stunning you from being so close. A warm feeling bloomed in your stomach as you two locked eyes. “Ah,” Snapping yourself out of your trance, you nodded, fighting the urge to drop your gaze. “Yes, the winters are getting colder. At least on the northern tip of the kingdom...” You explained carefully, not knowing how the southern half was faring weather wise.

Nodding Thranduil removed his hand from underneath your chin, fighting the ever growing urge to pull you into his embrace. Your voice rings like a beautiful melody in his ears. “Well, thank you for letting me know. I will arrange for more firewood to be sent up north when winter gets closer.”

Nodding, you gave him a smile as he stepped away from you, Lady Idra watching with a quirked brow.

“Well… I better get going.” You announced, giving him and Lady Idra a nod, fishing through your purse to pull out a few coins to pay for your yarn.

Thranduil’s larger hand overshadowed yours however, placing a gold coin on the counter.

“Have a wonderful day, ladies.” Thranduil dismissed himself, giving you a fond smile, his hand twirling a strand of your hair before he made his exit.

“What in Valar’s name did you do to catch the King’s eye?” Idra questioned, a knowing smile on her face as you shook your head, a vibrant flush on your face. “I wish I knew,” You laughed softly, holding your basket close to you as you bid her farewell, you too exiting the market.

The day felt like it went by in a blur, thoughts of Thranduil drowning your being as you rested your head against the wall above your bed. Your knitting needles and yarn being long forgotten. The memory of his smell, his beauty and the intensity of his gaze now burned into your mind.

“Thranduil,” You mumbled, the very mention of his name soaking your tongue like fine wine as your mind wandered, daydreams of a future together blurring your reality.

“How I wish you were mine,” Your eyes slowly opened, half-lidded as you stared out the window. The kingdom standing proud amongst the trees, a demented sigh leaving your lips as you reached out to press your hand against the cool glass.

---

“King Thranduil,” Thranduil’s advisor knocked softly on his study door, opening it once he received a grunt in response. “You asked to pull all documents pertaining to (Name), of (Father Name)?”

“Correct.” Thranduil’s advisor knew not to question his reasoning for wanting such documents and handed them to him. “Here they are. Birth records, land deeds, reports, anything and everything that mentions her name.”

“Thank you, you are dismissed.”

Searching through the documents, he felt closer to you than ever before. Knowing where you were born, how large your family was, what you did for a living, who you lived with, if you were married. He couldn’t wait to ask you more personal details though, things that aren’t documented.

Did you prefer white wine or red? What books were your favorites, and why? What did you love to do on a rainy morning? Who did you love?

A coy smirk formed on Thranduil’s face as he sat down the documents. Remembrance of your smile, the blush forming on your rosy cheeks, the lovely sound that is your voice consumed him. Looking out his window, Thranduil imagined what your home looked like in the north, how desperate he was to be by your side at every waking moment.

“My queen will soon be home, where she belongs.” Thranduil vowed, making servants passing by pause in fear. Fear for the life that would be disrupted as a result of a toxic obsession.

“Very very soon.” He muttered to himself as he filled a goblet full of a blood red wine.

That night you were left restless, wanting to lay in bed with your eyes shut as your imagination wandered through crafting scenarios with your beloved.

As dawn rose you lifted your eyes from their curtain of darkness, watching as hues of dark blue shifted into ones of gold and red, a gorgeous sunrise to soften the blow of reality.

A frown etched on your face. “He’s a king,” you reminded yourself, “At least you can dream…” You recalled the words of your so called friends only a day ago, “He wouldn’t want such a bore anyways.”

Fetching your shawl, you covered your shoulders from the cold as you walked down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Cutting up your tomatoes, you jolted as you heard the doorbell ring, wincing as you felt your blood rise to the surface of your finger.

Cursing you brought your finger to your mouth. “Coming.” You called out, pulling your shawl tighter around you as you moved to open the door.

“King Thranduil?” You gasped, pulling your finger out of your mouth. “W-What do I owe the pleasure?” You questioned, realizing just how much of a mess you looked in front of him. “My apologies, I wasn’t expecting anyone…”

Thranduil had to pause. The way the early morning sun hit your bare collarbones, how your hair was slightly ruffled from sleep and so carefree looking pulled at his heart. Clearing his throat he gave a small smile. “Forgive me for showing up unannounced, I wanted to check to see if you slept alright? Last night was particularly cold and I recalled you saying your blankets were no longer adequate.”

“Oh!” You shook your head with a smile. “I didn’t get much sleep I’m afraid, but I was plenty warm.”

Thranduil heard every word you spoke, but his attention was now focused on your hand cradled to your chest. “You’re hurt.”

“Ah, yes… The bell startled me, I was in the middle of preparing breakfast when you arrived, I knicked my finger,” You held up the finger, showing the perfectly rounded bulb of blood on the tip.

“Oh my… Because of me,” Thranduil surmised, moving to carefully hold your hand in both of his, successfully pushing his way into your home.

“Oh no, not at all!” You hurried to correct yourself, not wanting him to be upset.

Instead of responding, Thranduil brought your finger into his mouth, sucking off the blood with a determined look on his face as a blush formed over your cheeks. “Oh my…” You muttered, your heart fluttering in your chest as you gulped.

“Because I caused your injury, I must atone for your pain… Would you like to join me for breakfast?” Thranduil spoke once he removed your finger from his mouth, concern on his features.

“You don’t have to do that, King Thranduil, ‘tis no one’s fault but my own.” You smiled, despite your internal self screaming at you for denying his offer. “I wouldn’t want to further interrupt your morning.”

“I just wanted to help you... I just wanted to be there for you...” Thranduil muttered, dropping your hand, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I clearly overstayed my welcome.” Thranduil stood stiff, the rejection of your words seeping into him like knives as he moved to open the door and take his leave.

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” You called out, moving to grasp his hand, tugging him back to you. “You’re a king,” You began to explain yourself, “I’m just a lowly girl, a bore… I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you, much less deserving of dining with you… Do you see?” Your eyes held sadness as you forced yourself to realize your reality. You were just a lowly girl. No chance to be with a king. No matter how your obsession for him threatened to consume you.

“You see yourself as lowly?” Thranduil furrowed his brows, his heart pounding at your declaration, his heart hurting at the thought of you thinking so lowly of yourself. “My darling, you are a goddess, a gift from Valar…” Thranduil cupped your cheeks, wiping a tear that you didn’t know had even sprung from your eyes.

“I know you don’t know me well.. But… I want to tell you I love you until my throat bleeds. I want to hold you close on dark endless nights, make love to you until the sun rises, celebrate feasts of starlight with you until time itself ends.”

“King Thranduil---”

“Thranduil, just call me by my name my starlight,” Thranduil all but begged, pressing his forehead against yours.

“T-Thranduil… How long have you felt this way?” Your heart was erratic, your soul howling for joy at the thoughts of your love being requited.

“Since the moment I laid eyes on you, darling.”

Instead of responding with words, you responded with action, pulling him closer by the nape of his neck, your lips coming together in a passionate dance.

“Let me love you?” Thranduil questioned against your lips, relishing in the feel of your skin against his. “Always,” You mumbled in response, pulling away ever so slightly, brushing your noses together as he tugged you closer.

The past week felt like a blur, after Thranduil confessed his love for you, you two have been inseparable. Your belongings were moved into his castle that evening, and your life changed overnight.

Going from wearing homemade skirts and dresses to luxuriously made dresses just to your measurements, you felt like a princess in a fairytale.

“Lady (Name)?” A servant called from outside, worry clear in her voice. “Yes?” You responded after putting on the earrings Thranduil gifted you the first night you stayed in his castle.

A relieved exhale left her, knowing you lived through another night. It was no secret what their king did to the brides that refused his ‘love,’ nor was it a secret of how brutal their endings were.

“King Thranduil requests you join him for breakfast.”

Smiling you brushed your hair with your hands one last time. Excited to know he wanted you to be with him.

“I’ll be out in a moment, is he in his study?” You questioned, knowing he liked you two to eat outside of prying eyes.

“Yes m’lady.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” You smiled despite the fact she couldn’t see you, listening to the sounds of her feet pattering down the hall until she was gone.

Walking down the hall, you smiled at each servant you passed, waving slightly as you maneuvered the twists and turns of the labyrinth of a castle.

“Thranduil?” You called out, your knuckles rapping softly on the door of his study. The sounds of books falling over within his study made you jump. “Thranduil, are you okay?” You questioned, pushing open the door.

“No!” Thranduil yelled out, turning to push you back as you began to enter.

“My love, what’s wrong?” You questioned again, fear in your eyes as he looked at you wildly.

“You weren’t supposed to get here so quickly…”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking to the mess of books on the floor behind him. “I’ll help you clean up and we can have breakfast okay?” You reached out to cup his cheek, a smile on your face.

Thranduil’s wild expression dissolved as your hand touched his cheek, nuzzling into your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry about it my starlight, it’s okay,” Thranduil urged you away from touching them, causing you to laugh. “It’s okay darling, I don’t mind, it’s not like they’re going to hurt me,” You joked as you sunk to the floor to pick them up.

‘Immortality,’

‘Necromancy’

‘Human Mortality’

The book titles made you curious, tilting your head as you lifted them up. Then you noticed how quiet Thranduil had become.

Placing them back on the bookshelf, you turned to face him only to jump, noticing how close he was to you.

“Thranduil?”

“What do you think of those?” Thranduil questioned, memories of his previous love’s voice alarming in his ears, the refusal of his affection still stinging his heart despite having a new love to focus on.

“They are… interesting topics,” You smiled, not too sure where he was going with his questioning.

“What if…”

You tilted your head as he struggled to seem to find the words to say to you, his chest beginning to heave with panic.

“Thranduil, my love, calm down…” You spoke softly, rubbing his arms up and down.

“What if… I was able to find a way to make you immortal… To be with me forever?”

Your silence was deafening, Thranduil’s own thoughts began to swirl in his head as you struggled to find your words.

“You love me that much? That you want me to be with you forever?” You questioned, your stomach flipping, your insides feeling warm as happy tears sprung up in your eyes.

Thranduil’s eyes snapped to yours, his thoughts of rejection and murder leaving him as he processed your reaction. “I’ll do whatever it takes if it means we’ll be together forever, my sweet.” He responded while wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’d do anything for you,” His words were laced with honey yet lined with barbs, the meaning of his words sweet yet unnerving as he pulled you into his embrace.

“I love you,” You mumbled into his chest, moving your own arms to embrace him in return. Your words shooting lightning into him, his eyes widening as euphoria surged through his being.

“-And I you.”

Tags:

Forever Tag-

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18@raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @underthemoon-imagines @ladylouoflothlorien @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @bad268 @legolaslovely @bthtallmadge2 @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna

Thranduil- @indelwen-of-mirkwood @sapphireduck @ashleygrrrl @katiegoddessofmischief

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witchyintention · 4 years ago

Text

Deities: What Are They, How to Work With Them & How to Find Them.

As a beginner witch deities are exciting and most want to jump into it right away. As someone who works with 7 let me tell you it is draining. Most people will simply tell you a big fat NO! At the mention of deities and not really tell you why it's a no for beginners. For one it takes a lot out of you. For two deities are a big step in your practice and you must work on the fundamentals before you even think of working with them. If you don't work on your grounding, shadow work, mediation and basic knowledge of witchcraft things can spiral out of control. This can get very dangerous very quickly. Deities are gods (or simply higher beings. I refer them to gods often so just keep this as a note) after all and someone weak trying to handle something powerful is disastrous.

Think of tv, video games or movies. When someone who doesn't know what they are doing trying to summon something they have no business summoning it turns into a horror shit show.

This is kinda how you should think of deities. However you are more than capable of worshipping them just like any other religion. Pray and leave offerings. You can even ask for guidance from them and that's perfectly fine. But do reframe from actually using them in your spell work.

Let me tell you about the difference. I have yet to go into spell work but you always cast a circle. So working with would be talking with a guide during any point of a spell. Your circle is a sacred space that's intended for your energy. By inventing other beings into the circle you are allowing them access to your energies.

When seeking help you pray and ask for a sign. Remember to keep this way from any sort of spellwork, you do not want just anyone to have access to your energies.

Any time that you invite them into your circle, they are able to use your energy and feed off it. Now inviting them can be as simple as saying their name. From that point you are working with them. Because once they can work with your energy they can effect your spellwork. If it's an entity, that can then cause potential harm. By allowing them in your circle you're opening up the chance of that happening. Spells could go wrong or you could end up in the hospital. There are many stories of novice witches opening their circle to these entities because they don't know any better. Many ended up in the hospital and even dead.

I have said witchcraft, as fun and exciting as it is, can be very dangerous. I do not tell you the things I do to scare you but to educate you. You need to know exactly what you're going into. And that is the purpose of this series.

Though I have been saying deities this also includes spirit guides such as the Fae, Angels Ancestors and everything in between. When you do get to this point in your practice you can in fact have a mix of all of them. I primarily work with the greek pantheon however I have called upon others to aid me in the message they were trying to give. For example I do not work with Apollo however a friend of mine had been seeing signs of him along with the name being whispered in the back of their mind.

(I'll take any chance to include anime. 😅)

This friend came to me to see if it was realy Apollo or something else that was pretending to be the god. This also frequently happens with beginner witches. They are more prone to believing something that isn't a god when told it is. This friend knew that and consulted me about it. As a result I found out it was Apollo and had him aid me in the message he wished to tell this friend through tarot.

This was an example of me working with a god who I do not usually work with. However it is very much okay and actually encouraged to do some reading into Spirit guides such as deities, Angel's and so on. Read about their lore and things associated with them. This will help you later or even now if you have been seeing signs from them.

However if you anything like me you'll fall far down the rabbit hole of deities. I have been studying on greek and roman mythology since the 4th or 5th grade. Later when I moved halfway through 5th grade I was thrown into a group where we would choose a topic and do research on it. The theme we chose was greek mythology. The god I chose was Hades. I had always felt Hades had a bad reputation. With that I had this crazy goal to try and explain to everyone in my class he wasn't a bad guy. That he was just a guy who loves his wife and dog.

Here I am nearly ten years later working with him. Did it take me a while? Yes. Will it take you this long? Maybe not. For me most of the years I have spent being a witch was studying rather than actual spellwork. You learn by doing, sure but when you already know the knowledge, putting it into action is much easier. Not to mention not all of us could do actually spell work due to this and that. Whatever reason you might be in the broom closet for.

Now once you have done your research keep an eye out for potential signs. It's best to look into all the gods. I had a witch who had thought she was dealing with Hades when it actually turned out to be Anubis. They both similar for what they rule over so getting them confused as a beginner is understandable. Especially when you only do research on one type of lore like greek. It's best to explore all the lore of all the different types. You have Egyptian, Greek/Roman, Norse, Celtic, Japanese, Angels, Fae and so many more. Do you have to read up about all of them? No but you probably should.

But let's be real here. Not everyone is going to. So pick maybe five that stand out to you then most and go fall down the rabbit hole of spirit guides. Also do keep in mind that if you see signs of one they could simply have a message for you rather than being a potential deity to work with. Like I had explained earlier with Apollo. He had a message for my friend and it was nothing more than that. Spirit guides of any sort can come and go as they please. Some might only come because you need them then in that moment.

What I have noticed is most don't have more than three spirit guides. I'm sure there are many who have more but from what I have seen in finding them for people they have had three or less. I find the hardest ones to figure who exactly they are, there the ancestors. I've had a few witches ask me to help find their guides and it was an ancestor who dated back 500 years ago. At that point I have absolutely no idea how to tell you exactly who this person was. Especially since not everyone in the world was written in a history book for doing something worthy of being written in books.

Also not many can actually trace their family tree that far back anyways. I sure as hell can't.

Now you're probably asking when is the right time to actually start working with them? Well it differs from person to person. You can ask a more established witch like myself. Other times you just know. But I wouldn't trust that "I just know feeling" until you have strong intuition skills. I have many of my Protégés and regulars asking if they are ready all the time. How do I know? Easy divination. I have a strong bond with my deities so they always tell me the truth even when it might hurt me. Sometimes I have to tell them that when I notice a hesitation in their answering.

And truthful you will know when you know. Meeting mine just happened out of the blue. I was doing tarot readings during a live broadcast when I was suddenly hit with fatigue. I had the sudden urge to ask my pendulum if my spirit guides were present. I had a hunch of who they might have been and went through the list. If they said yes I then gave a true or false question about said deities lore. Let me tell you meeting all seven of them was exhausting. That night I did 8 readings with 8 different gods. One wasn't even my spirit guide or Patron God. Zeus just felt like hanging out.

And though I say you will just know when the time is right many will still just take that leap even when they are not ready. When it comes to deities you need to be cautious and actually ready for it. Don't just jump in because it sounds fun and you want them now. If you are uncertain about things in regards to them simply ask for help. I have built a community for exactly that.

Everyone needs help from time to time, even me. Do not be scared to ask for help because it's better you ask then things going wrong. I am always open for you to ask questions about the craft. I am always willing to help. If I do not know the answer I will however find it for you and the information will be trustworthy unlike the internet most of the time.

Witchcraft is exciting. I know. Yes it's a lot of fun. But please, you know yourself better than you think. Do your shadow work, meditate, learn your history and if you need help seek it out.

That's all I have for today so until next time stay witchy! Blessed Be.

✩ Don't Steal Other Peoples Work ✩

Written:

June 28, 2020

By:

Reine Alicis

#magick #herbalism #hellenic gods #witchy aesthetic #oracle reading #healing energy #positive energy #hellenic community #candlemagic #candle #kemetic #norse gods #egyptian gods #celtic gods #Welsh gods #pagan gods #deities #partons #spirit guides

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mittensmorgul · 4 years ago

Note

"We make a good team don't we?" Ah yes, what a good team with one of them having to go out there and deal with the trauma of SEEING DEAD KIDS WHILE telling the other to just stay back and play boggle. How exactly were you a TEAM, Dean? Pray tell for I am DYING to know.

I love that Caitlin lampshaded something Big and Important. When she caught up to Dean while he was picking the lock at the cannery, as she invited herself along (and taunted Dean for being bad at picking locks just as he got it open, still within seconds DESPITE having been distracted while opening it), she says “Come on, don’t you want a partner?” Because yes... yes he does want a partner.

He doesn’t want it to be someone he feels morally and personally responsible for. Or someone who he feels obligated to protect first because they’re otherwise in the dark, like Caitlin was on this hunt. Dean described later the effect of finding those children’s bodies had on him for years afterward, and he did everything he could to shield Caitlin from seeing it too, and never mentioned it to Sam.

And all of *this* is lampshaded by his evasiveness regarding Cas throughout most of the episode.

Show of hands: How many people out there have considered the fact that Dean was evasive about why Cas left was because Dean offered to go with him, and Cas told him no? That this was something Cas had to do himself?

Also, how many people out there have considered the fact that Cas definitely told Dean about Jack’s deal with Billie, but likely did NOT also tell Dean about his OWN deal with the Empty? And that Cas is still desperately trying to hide that fact from Dean, and is also staying distant from him so that tidbit doesn’t come out before he can save Jack from Billie’s plans for him?

Cas was clearly in communication with Dean despite being out on his own right now, which... yay, we know it wasn’t an argument between them that ushered Cas out the door alone, which leaves it as Cas’s choice (perhaps demand) that he go alone.

Meanwhile Dean was antsy the entire time, and it was apparently Sam’s idea to respond to Caitlin’s request for their presence since they didn’t have anything else to do but wait for Billie’s final instructions to Jack... because he didn’t know yet that Jack’s instructions the entire time were already known to Jack...

heck I am super rambling here...

but there’s a point to it, I swear...

Throughout the ep we saw Young Dean rather torn between wanting to shield Sam and yet also ensuring he was prepared to face the reality of their lives. He might not have been very good at balancing those things, but that’s mostly because nobody ever did any of those things for HIM. Over the years, Sam has found a way to incorporate “guns, knives, and books” into his life as best he could, even if “monster lore” hadn’t been the subject of his childhood passion, you know?

Sam was (understandably) angry that Dean tried to keep the truth of Jack’s situation from him, but honestly what can EITHER of them do with this information? Because Dean is equally right. Do they actually have a choice in this matter?

Sure, Cas is looking for a different solution, but the problem is so far beyond anything Sam and Dean are actually capable of doing to fix it that seriously... do they actually have a choice here? I mean, the choice between “let Jack detonate and hope the universe survives” versus “do nothing and wait for Chuck to murder the universe anyway.” Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation. What other choice do they have? Their last ditch, Hail Mary play had been containing Chuck with a Mark, and that failed in 15.09 when Sam refused to activate the spell to trap him. Even that is no longer an option now. They literally have no other options here.

So why would Dean have been all eager to tell Sam this? It’s a HORRIBLE thing to have to carry and know. Just like Dean never told Sam about the monster’s nest full of dead children. WHY would he share that horror with Sam? What purpose would it have served?

And honestly, why doesn’t Sam understand that having witnessed that horror and carried it alone all these years wasn’t just about “hiding stuff” from Sam, but about Dean’s literal trauma suffered from it? The way Sam reacted, grumpily asking why Dean had never told him about the nest, while Dean relives the horror of it... Sam blew it off as “you were just a kid,” and “we used to keep a lot of secrets from each other,” as if this was just some normal sort of secret. The look on Dean’s face where I have the episode paused reacting to Sam’s comments... Dean is CLEARLY saying stuff here that Sam is not interpreting through the correct lens of “THIS WAS A DEEPLY TRAUMATIZING EVENT THAT YOU ARE NOT UNDERSTANDING THE DEPTH OF HOW BADLY THIS AFFECTED ME AND ARE JOVIALLY EQUATING IT WITH THINGS LIKE SHOPLIFTING A JAR OF PEANUT BUTTER OR SNEAKING OUT TO PLAY VIDEO GAMES AT NIGHT LIKE... SAM... BABBY... PLS NO”

lol I unpaused it and it went to the diner scene, and even in salad metaphor we see Dean trying to give Sam what he knows Sam would LIKE (kale or arugula salad, a veggie burger), but the diner he’s at only has iceberg lettuce with ranch. Dean gets it anyway, and Sam will probably tolerate it thinking Dean was just being a jerk getting that for him, but like... is he supposed to conjure kale out of thin air ffs... and Dean will probably take the hit, because it’s just salad and Sam will live through it.

But that’s not a partnership. It’s Dean doing everything he can to emotionally manage everything, and it’s exhausting.

But this all goes back to your question, finally! Dean needed Sam to be onboard Team Winchester, because to deviate could mean that SAM ended up in that pile of dead kids, you know? That’s what Dean saw in his vision later, that’s what haunted him. It could’ve been Sam, if he’d failed to protect him. And it WAS Travis...

And Sam was pulled into the final fight when they were kids. He helped protect Travis by keeping him distracted with the creepy boggle game (and honestly that list of words... I need to write something about that, and the fact Travis always told Caitlin that the monster had been “playing games” with him... he meant it very literally... but that’s for another post), but the monster arrived in their room just before Dean did. Sam pulled Travis away from the monster, then Dean told him to “get back” and sliced off the ring... Sam had helped, and it was enough to tell a 9-year-old that he’d done a good job and was part of the team.

But I do think that’s something Dean does want... a partner, and not someone he feels obligated to the way he does Sam. Or not someone whose emotional management is heaped on him, like it was with Caitlin in this episode on their childhood hunt.

#spn 15.16 #spn s15 spoilers #super powerful queen slayyna

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celestias-right-hoof-mas-au · 3 years ago

Photo

WARNING: Although this particular chapter does not depict violence or cursing, future installments will. As this story is based on an adult parody of MLP called The Mentally Advanced Series. I would encourage that if you had not watched it to do so to get a grasp of the world in which this takes place. Many of the jokes, lore, and otherwise are in reference to MAS, not just simply My Little Pony. I have also made a supercut that includes every reference and appearance of Celestia in the series. In case watching the entire MAS series maybe too time consuming. If you find Celestia, or other canon characters, used in crude and unpleasant depictions offensive, this is your warning. However, I would appreciate that you take a look anyway with an open mind.

Celestia Supercut Link

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“And here’s your armor and weapons. You should be able to start working tomorrow, but take it easy when you can. Magic works wonders, but if you’re not careful you’ll black out from exhaustion.” The front desk nurse recommended sliding over Valiance her belongings.

“I will. Thank you, ma’am. It feels great to stretch my legs after being in bed all week.” Valiance chuckled as she quickly put her body armor on, hooking her helmet and weapon onto her side.

“I could only imagine.” the nurse smiled, “There’s a soldier waiting for you in the lobby. I’m sure it’s important, so I wish you luck.”

Just as the nurse had instructed, a soldier in royal guard uniform awaited for Valiance at the medical bay’s entrance.

“Valiance Ascalon?” he gruffly asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well come on, soldier. I’m here to take you to your quarters.” the soldier informed as he began leading away with Valiance in tow.

The walk was mostly quiet, but in time, Valiance noticed the regality of her surroundings. Banners and painted glass of the sisters’ various achievements adorned the halls with very little modesty. As they continued, one photo in particular caught Valiance’s attention enough to stop in her tracks. The photo contained Celestia wearing a suit with a leather overcoat hanging from her shoulders.

Valiance raised a brow dumbfoundedly. ‘Huh. Not the kind of attire I’d expect her to wear… but not bad at all.’ she thought to herself while gazing into the picture.

“Come on, you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the scenery on your days off. Don’t fall behind!” the soldier called from further down the hall.

Snapping out of her trance, Valiance trotted back up to the soldier as they continued. Although, the scenery did spark some questions in her mind. After a moment, she finally decided to ask, “What does an acolyte do anyways?”

“That’s just a fancy name for a personal assistant. Though, judging by your particular skills, my guess would be being a personal bodyguard and just generally following her whim.” the soldier pondered as they approached a door and unlocked it.

Stepping into the room, Valiance softly muttered, “Wow, this is… lovely.” It was spacious with a large bed resting at its center, accompanied by a nightstand on each side. To the far left was a personal restroom along with a panoramic window with a beautiful view of Canterlot. To the right side of the bedroom rested her wardrobe and a bookshelf.

“I’d say I’m jealous of you, but in reality I can’t.” the soldier commented while handing the keys over.

“Why do you say that?”

“Acolyte’s are hard to come by. The last one that worked here was before I was old enough to get a job. Let’s just say he didn’t have the heart for it.”

Valiance was perplexed by the soldier’s warning. However, she knew that no matter the task, it would be done in Celestia’s name.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the medical bay, a small pink pony with a satchel and large tight curled hair briskly made her way to the front desk. In a soft spoken voice the little mare asks the front desk clerk, “Hello, Nurse Flatline.”

“Hello, Mentee. Can I help you with something?”

“Um, do you know of a large pale mare who was committed here recently after the attack? She wore a purple and gold set of armor, not like the castle guards.”

“I'm sorry to say that the patient you're looking for was released earlier today.” The clerk replied, looking the pink horse up and down.

“Oh, well, can you tell me where she is then?”

“No Mentee, you know I’m not at liberty to release that information.”

Mentee groaned, “Pleeease, I really have to talk to her. She saved my life during the changeling attack, can’t you just give me a hint where she might be?”

The clerk pony pondered momentarily, letting out a deep sigh, before firmly answering, “If I give you a hint, you didn’t get it from me, is that clear?”

Mentee eagerly nodded with a small smile as she leaned in closer.

“She’s a castle employee as well, if you ask around you could probably find her.” Flatline whispered.

Mentee gasped and shouted, “Thank you so much, Flatline!” Only to be shushed and shooed away.

After asking around, Mentee had finally made her way to Valiance’s room. Her body began to rattle as she grew ever closer to the door. Closing her eyes to compose herself, she finally mustered up the courage to knock on the door… nothing. Maybe she just hadn’t heard the knock on the door. Mentee tried again, this time louder… still nothing. She pressed her ear up against the door only to find absolutely no noise on the other side.

“No one is in there, miss. She left for a walk.” a disapproving voice slated.

Mentee flinched and quickly spun around to see a blue coated maid sneering at her. Rather than attempt to explain herself, Mentee panicked and bolted.

Sweat gathered on Mentee’s brow as she came to rest in an empty corridor. Running a cloven hoof through her bangs she uttered to herself, “This is ridiculous, I just wanted to thank her for saving me.” She glanced down to the satchel dejectedly, “Maybe I can find her tomorrow once my shift is over… I need to get some air.”

The cool evening air was a blessing that gently kissed Mentee’s face. She had made her way to the castle courtyard and basked in its soft serenity. Plopping on a nearby bench next to a batch of daffodils, she gingerly took off her satchel to lean back and relax. Their light aroma invited Mentee into picking one and absentmindedly twirling it around. Taking a light whiff, she smiled and placed the flower in her hair. Stars twinkled in the strawberry sunset while a few ponies walked the courtyard to head home.

‘Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.’ Mentee thought, as she scanned her surroundings. Suddenly, a glint caught her eye. When she focused, she could swear her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. Before her was her knight in shining armor, casually walking around the courtyard smelling flowers.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Valiance took comfort in the beauty of the flowered and marbled plaza, having spent the entire day getting to know the castle’s layout better and what would be her new home. The giant fountain gently ran in the center, soothing all who heard it. Giant hedge sculptures, vivid red roses, and yellow daffodils were all perfectly nurtured to be a sight for even the sorest eyes.

“E-excuse me.” a small yet eager voice called from behind. Valiance turned and was greeted by a small pink pony, with thick ringlets for hair, and spectacles. The mare shuffled slightly closer and gently continued, “Uh, h-hello. I don’t mean to disturb but… um, well, you probably don’t remember me but-”

“Oh! You’re the mare that was almost carried off during the attack!” Valiance blurted out with a smile.

The little unicorn blushed, surprised that Valiance had even remembered her at all, “Yes, that was me. M-my name is Mentee, Mentee Prim.”

Valiance’s face softened further, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mentee. My name’s Valiance Ascalon.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Valiance and Mentee were not alone, the God Princess, Celestia, too had wished to enjoy a stroll to revel over her recent success. True to her word, the Princess oversaw the remainder of the changeling hive eradicated and their maggots turned to fertilizer. With that, and the acquisition of a new acolyte, Celestia had almost considered relieving her favorite student of her friendship studies for the day. Almost.

Voices had tickled at Celestia’s ear from the courtyard. Since the sun had set, most ponies would have gone on their way to the dining halls, barracks, or home at that point so she had a small interest to inquire the purpose of the conversation.

It didn’t take long for Celestia to find the source of the whispers. She easily spotted her new acolyte talking to one of the castle’s library assistants, Mentee Prim. The conversation itself was harmless, with small talk abound and a few thanks sprinkled in. However, when Mentee pulled her gift out of her satchel, Celestia’s cold stare stabbed at Mentee’s glimmering eyes. Celestia scrutinized deep into Mentee’s heart, seeing through her feeble façade. This was no mere thanks, the pink mare’s soul pounded with infatuation. The way she kicked the dust and tugged at her hair all the while coyly glancing at Valiance left no doubt in the Princess’ mind; and it filled her with vile intrigue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I, uh, wanted to let you know how thankful I am for saving me. I really thought that I was gonna be a goner until you came along.” Mentee said, rubbing her neck. She tapped her hooves together in thought then reached for her satchel, “This isn’t much, b-but I hope you still enjoy it well enough.” Encased in periwinkle blue magic, Mentee unlatched her satchel to reveal a small pink box tied in a red laced ribbon.

“Oh! Well thank you, Mentee. You really didn’t have to do that.” Valiance assured, gently taking the gift.

“You know, I’ve been working at the castle for a while now. There've been plenty of acquaintances I’ve made… but no one to really call my friend. I was just wondering… if you would… maybe…” Mentee sheepishly stalled.

Valiance chuckled heartily, “Of course we can be friends. It’d be nice to have company with someone who knows their way around here, not to mention someone so sweet.”

Mentee’s stomach twisted into a knot, her already flushed face was now blistering red. In an act of feverish joy, Mentee sputtered, “T-t-thank y-you! Y-you too!” With nothing holding her back she sprinted away, nearly tripping over herself as she spun around a corner and out of sight.

Perplexity gripped Valiance’s thoughts, ‘I wonder where she ran off to, I hope I didn’t say anything stupid. That would be embarrassing.’ Turning her attention to the box, Valiance pulled the ribbon and peered inside. Her benign smile graced her lips again. Inside, were cookies in the shapes of flowers, hearts, and bunnies. Each one was carefully decorated in a shiny pastel colored frosting, some were adorned with cute smiles to top it off.

As Valiance innocently popped one in her mouth, a sudden chill ran up her spine when she felt the looming presence of some wicked soul behind her. “And what have we here?”

Valiance twisted around to see the owner staring down at her through biting amethyst eyes. The moon’s rays illuminated the roses in the garden, bathing Celestia in the color red. Although initially shocked, relief washed over Valiance as she sighed, “Oh, Princess Celestia, it’s you. This is just a little thank you gift from a friend I saved.” Valiance passed the gift box to her majesty to see personally.

The Princess shook the box slightly with a sneer, and with her magic, pulled out a heart shaped cookie. “How sweet.” she hummed as she jaggedly pulled the cookie in half. Without giving Valiance time to think, Celestia jammed one of the halves into her acolyte’s mouth before turning and walking away.

Bewildered by Celestia’s actions, Valiance chewed her half and absentmindedly reached for another cookie, but was only met with air. It was then that she snapped back to her senses, realizing that Celestia had taken the entire box for herself. Conflicted, Valiance chose to keep her mouth shut. It was Celestia’s will, after all. But that doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it.’ Valiance huffed to herself, having really wanted to enjoy her gift. “Forget it.” Valiance groaned, throwing her hooves into the air, “I’m just gonna go to bed.”

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basura2319 · 4 years ago

Text

Choices

Pairing: Jango Fett x reader

Requested by: literally no one

WC: 1.7k (oops)

Warnings: angst lots of it, relationship problems , takes place before TPM, has references to Jango’s Legends lore (aka the bounty hunter game).

A/N: I’m really doubting posting this fic on here guys...

Jango couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach any longer as he descended his new ship, Slave I, towards Bespin.

“You live on Bespin?” asked the female Clawdite lounging on the seat next to him.

Jango, of course, didn’t respond to her.

Zam huffed. “Seriously, you were just talking to me five minutes ago. What’d I do now?”

“Be quiet,” grumbled Jango. The clouds of Bespin were dangerous to navigate, rendering him unable to see anything especially now since the sun was setting.

Zam threw an annoyed glance at him before peering at the silhouette of what she assumed was Cloud City. They got closer to the city and a voice muffled through the ship’s com channel.

“Welcome to Cloud City,” greeted a droid. “What is your business here?”

“I need to get to landing bay 40,” replied Jango.

“Do you have an access code for landing bay 40?”

“Yes, I’m patching it through right now.”

He waited anxiously for the droid’s response.

“The code checks out,” the droid droned. “You may proceed.”

Jango sighed inwardly. He hadn’t seen nor contacted you in weeks because of, well, the “special hunt” Tyranus invited him to partake in. He had so much to tell you and was so nervous about it. Nervous about how you would take in the news of moving to Kamino with all the credits he will earn for being the clone template.

He had sent you a message yesterday saying he’d be back, but you didn’t reply. That’s when he felt it. Felt it deep in his chest that you were angry with him, and for a good reason too. It churned his stomach with nerves.

He found your landing bay and landed the ship without any problems. Jango unbuckled his straps before moving over to help Zam.

“Need me to carry you?” Jango asked.

She stood up slowly, wincing at the pain shooting up from her torso. “No, I think I can manage.”

Jango nodded, pressing a button on his wrist to open the ship’s door. He made his way down the ramp, helmet on his hip as his eyes roamed his surroundings for anyone who might be watching them.

“So do you live here or not,” she questioned again, following him to wherever he was going.

“Something like that,” he replied gruffly, closing the ship.

“Huh, I thought you were more of a person who lived planet to planet,” joked Zam, observing the buildings. “Not in one of these fancy housings.” Jango slung her arm over his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall. “Thanks for letting me crash at your place.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jango finally made it to your complex after a few minutes, holding out his key to the door for entry. He entered the room along with Zam, about to call out your name but the words died in his throat.

You were sitting in the living room as if you were waiting for him all this time with a taut expression, watching him enter with a steely gaze.

“Jango—” At the sight of you, Zam snapped her mouth shut, looking between you and Jango. “Um, hi,” she waved awkwardly at you which was a mistake because the movement made her hiss in pain.

Your cold eyes raked over Zam before landing on him.

Jango cleared his throat. “(Y/N), this is Zam Wessel,” he began reluctantly “She’s going to stay in the spare bedroom for couple of days until she’s well enough to go off on her own.”

You didn’t say anything. You just continued to stare at him.

“It’s okay, I can leave tomorrow,” Zam insisted as Jango told her to go down the hall to the door on the right, happy to put as much distance between her and whatever was happening now.

The door to the room shuts and you’re silent. Jango had seen you angry many times before, as couples do when they spend so many years together. But not like this. So unresponsive and so frigid, especially towards him.

“Cyare—”

“Where have you been Jango,” you said steadily, though he could hear the slight tremor in your voice.

“Look,” he said lowly. “Can we talk about this in our room?”

“No,” you whispered harshly, tears beginning to well up in your already red eyes. “We’re gonna talk about this right now.”

You breathed through your nose and bit the inside of your cheek, trying so hard not to break in front of him. What’s the use? You looked like a mess in front of him anyway with your baggy clothes and sunken face.

He sat down next to you placing his helmet on the floor before making a reach for your hand, but you flinched away from his touch. A dull ache settled in Jango’s chest at the action.

“I know I told you that I was leaving for two days—”

“Yeah,” you snarked. “Which turned into weeks of hearing absolutely nothing from you!”

He winced at your words, though it’s true. He didn’t contact you at all during the hunt for Tyranus’ former apprentice.

“I thought something bad happened to you Jango, god!” your voice cracked, finally letting your tears spill. “I tried contacting Roz, but she clearly didn’t want to tell me what was going on.”

Jango looked at you, regret pooling in his stomach at your distress. The distress he caused.

“I tried comming you over and over and you wouldn’t answer.” You wiped your tears with your shirt as Jango watched, wanting to hold you desperately. “I commed Roz again and no answer.”

He tore his gaze from you and sighed softly. “She’s gone (Y/N).”

You sniffed. “What?”

“Roz,” he raked a hand through his dark hard. “She’s dead. A bounty hunter who was after the same bounty Zam and I were after, killed her.”

You stared at him frozen in shock.

“All because she was associated with me,” Jango explained.

“Jango…” you said faintly.

He kneeled to the floor, between your legs as he held your hands in his, kissing them.

“Mesh’la I’m so sorry,” he murmured against your skin. “But understand, I needed to protect you.”

Still on the floor kneeling, he told you everything. About how he was about to go back to you, but then got sidetracked by the Tyranus’ offer. About the hell he and Zam went through to find that bounty. And that karkin di’kut, Montross, who added more fuel to fire by killing Roz for Jango’s whereabouts and almost killed him. The thought of that son of a bantha ever finding out about your existence—Jango didn’t want to entertain that idea.

It was better that he didn’t contact you at all, but seeing your distraught state now made him question his choices. Made him question if making you go through with his sudden disappearance merited millions of credits.

He got to the part about the bounty reward, watching how you absorbed this information with bewilderment.

“Wait,” you cut him off. “They want to use your genetic makeup to make an army?”

“Yeah…”

You stared at him, confused more than ever. “Why, and for whom?”

“For the Republic,” he said plainly. “As for why, my employer didn’t say.”

“How much did this Tyranus person promise to you give?” you probed him.

“Five million credits,” said Jango. “And…an unaltered clone, (Y/N). A son.”

Your breath hitched as you stare at him in shock, unable to form a sentence. A son for you and Jango, your mind flared in awe.

He squeezed your hand. “Come me with to Kamino.”

“Huh?” you mumbled out.

“The cloners—the Kaminoans I mean— want me to stay on Kamino,” Jango thumbed your hand softly. “For the entire process.” He drew your head forward to place his forehead against yours. “What do you say cyare? We can finally settle down, raise our son like we’ve always talked about.”

It was true. You had been with Jango for three years, two of which you had established your relationship. Yes, you had talked about settling down with Jango someday, having kids.You were excited about it because he made you feel happy and most of all loved like no one else did. Though you never knew when that future would happen. If it was ever going to happen.

However, a question still remained at the forefront of your mind. Were you still going to stick around with him while he continues to go off to his bounties, leaving you alone with his son for weeks again and again? Who’s to say he will stop? Even if they give him enough credits so that he wouldn't have to work for the rest of his life.

The cycle never broke with Jango. He could never take a break, always on the move and you’re tired. So tired of it.

“Jango…” you began cautiously. “I…don’t know…”

The hope in his brown eyes vanished.

“You don’t know?” he echoed, his body stiff between your thighs.

You couldn’t look at him. You loved him with all of your being, but if you were being honest with yourself, you don’t know how much more you can take his constant disappearances. How much more you can take waking up to see he’s not there. How much more you can take the constant loneliness. It sounded selfish, sure, but it’s what you felt. You had raised this issue before to him many times, but he still insisted that it was necessary to secure a future with you.

You told yourself in the beginning that you could get used to what his job demanded of him. But now, as you regarded your lover’s face, the face of a man you would give everything for with blurry eyes, you weren’t so sure anymore.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered, hearing the crack in his own voice as he held your face.

Your throat became dry and you felt like your heart was chipping away slowly.

“I need…I need time to think about it,” you answered shakily, moving away from his arms to head for bed.

Jango swallowed thickly, standing up to reach for your forearm.

“I really am sorry (Y/N),” Jango said with sorrowful eyes watching you look at him in hurt. “I know that’s not enough to fix my habits, but I am sorry.”

He let his hand fall to his side, watching you walk away without saying a word, silently begging to the universe that you wouldn’t walk away from him.

You were all he cared for in this vast universe after all.

#jango fett #jango fett x reader #i hate this and i'm scared to share this fic

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omegangrins · 4 years ago

Text

A Rant on the End of Tremors 7: Shrieker Island

As the main man said,

Throwing caution to the wind because this blew up elsewhere.

If you can do it with Justice League, fuck it, let's do it for every shitty movie we've got.

While we're at it, can we change the ending of the 7th Tremors movie so *MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS* Burt Gummer doesn't die or at least bring Jamie Kennedy back, or Marvel style recast Jon Heder, so he dies saving his son instead of a random-ass person who could have easily saved themselves. Or cut the forced montage of Burt clips at the end so his death is at least ambiguous. Seriously beyond pissed about that one. THAT is no way for him to go.

I would also like to point out that the next Tremors *HAS* to be titled Tremors 8: Ouroboros and bring everyone back for Burt's funeral . Otherwise, what's the fucking point?

I have feelings about it, people. *FEELINGS!!!*

One of my favourite childhood memories is picking out Tremors 2 from the local gas station's movie rentals and forcing my parents to watch it. I was probably 5-6 at the time.

Let's say that it's been a lifelong love affair ever since. It took me another 10 years before I even watched the 1st. Probably why I hold good sequels in such high regard.

I didn't even know about the 1st until it played as a trailer in front of 2 and never thought to watch until years later. That's a testament to its filmmaking if I ever knew one.

So seriously, that's how they chose to kill off one of the most well known and prolific characters in a movie/TV series known around the globe? With an unnecessaryily needed death and a montage of clips from all the other movies that are obviously better than this one.

And I'm saying that as someone who defends Chibnall/13th Doctor...

...and I'm fucking fuming because THIS is how you *actually* destroy something people love and hold dear to their hearts. It's like the ending of Game of Thrones. His shitty ass death has made it a loooooot harder to rewatch. And they are one of my favourite series!!! Not flawless but fun. But I will defend every other movie and all the episodes except this. Honestly I'll still defend 7/8ths of this one as well.

Like I said, it's easily fixed too. Fucking vice versa swap out Jon Heder for Jamie Kennedy, who the movies have been building up for the last two, and have Burt save his son in front of his old flame. Boom, you won't even need the montage of clips cause you can just have Travis and his mom reminisce about Burt instead. Show not tell. I don't even care he died by Graboid (although in all honesty, I've allways wanted El Blanco to take him down or Burt kills himself from the PTSD. It would have AT LEAST MADE SENSE. Hell, the best would be a heart attack to callback Val's "Yeah, Burt, the way you worry, you're gonna have a heart attack before you get a chance to survive World War Three.". But none of us ever get the best death.). And it's not even about Burt sacrificing himself to save a nobody. Cause that could work too. BUT YOU NEED TO BUILD THAT SHIT UP. Not just fucking drop it like it's hot.

Like I said too, the first 7/8ths ain't bad but it's an entirely different story than a swansong for a hero.

It's all about some billionaire scientist/cowboy hunter dude who likes to get his jollies off hunting the biggest and the baddest who ends up inviting people to this island so they can hunt down Super-Graboids he designed for shits and giggles. But then some Shrieker-fy....

And the pretentious douches come and die one by beautiful one while Burt tries to save them anyway and it's all spectacularly dumb fun until it comes crashing down in the final 10 minutes. Fuck, they should just cut the last 10 minutes. Then it's a perfect little Tremors ditty.

#RELEASETHE7THTREMORSWITH10MINUTESFROMTHEENDCUT

This isn't even about Jon Heder either. He's just doing his job. Hell, do what /u/VoiceofRonHoward pointed out.

"It is clear that Jon's character was just pasted in over Jamie's, the artifacts of the father-son relationship are all over it. They should have gone full Marvel and just replaced Jamie with Jon and acted like nothing happened."

CAUSE FUCK YES!! The only time a story sucks is when they don't commit. Commitment makes all the difference. Now, I'm pissed double-pissed they didn't do that instead since Heder and Kennedy are similar in terms of white-boy-ness.

Even Michael Gross agrees:

"Yes, yes. Now I can't presume to speak for Jamie [Kennedy]. My understanding was they asked him and he said no. And so that's why they went with somebody else. So I had nothing to do with that decision. I just heard the stories. I missed him for that reason. You begin a relationship with the character, and you want to continue it....

...As you build a relationship with this son, we had two, it would've been nice to have three, but that was the hand I was dealt."

One of my favourite bits of Tremors lore comes from the 5th too so it's not like I hate sequel changes out of hand:

"This is a warrior dance. Our ancestors hunting the lnkanyamba and the Impundulu.

"What's that?

"Impundulu. It's what you call the Ass Blaster.

"Ass Blaster.

"Yes.

"Hey, you know, you make Ass Blaster sound good.

Primitive cultures fighting Graboids, Shriekers and Assblasters. I just love that thought.

Hilariously, my meta opening to the 8th movie would be a flashback to 10,000 years ago and a Neanderthal-like Burt Gummer teaching others how to drive Graboids off cliffs like they did with mammoths.

Thank you for giving me the space to rant. Cause fuuuuuuhhhhhhhhuuccck!!!

Here's Michael Gross' own words from his AMA that prove the people making Shrieker Island didn't know their shit.

"The Tremors series is one very close to my heart and I want you to know how appreciated your continued effort is for your core fan base.

My only question would be were there ever any studio decisions made for Burt that you refused to comply with? Or was everybody pretty much always on the same page on what to do with the character?

Thanks again for your dedication.

- Josh"

"Thanks for the kind words, Josh. As regards the first four films, with Wilson and Maddock as the writers, we were very much on the same page. 5,6, and 7 were a bit different, because there was a 13-year hiatus between 4 and 5, and we had to refresh our memories while "reinventing" the franchise for a new audience. I will give you one example: in an early draft of Shrieker Island, a new writer wrote a draft where Burt threatened to shoot one of the bad dudes, and I had to tell him—this is true—"Burt never intentionally points his gun at another human being."

And his own thoughts on Burt's "death" and how to bring it all back together again.

Universal and the director [came] to me with this idea, and they said, 'This could be emotionally very powerful, if we have to say goodbye to this man after 30 years. And I hemmed and hawed, and I thought about it a little bit. And I said, 'You're absolutely right about the emotional gut punch this can be.' And I said, 'You're going to hurt a lot of people's feelings.' And I said, 'But I thought this franchise was over after four. So I could certainly live with it being over after seven.'

"What we negotiated -- well, it wasn't really a negotiation, we all agreed on this -- is that we kind of left the door open. >!Because although Burt is gone, we never see a corpse. We never see his remains. Everybody assumes he's gone. Is he buried somewhere? Is he unconscious somewhere? We never see Burt dead. We see Burt gone. We see Burt not returning. What does that mean? Has he been knocked out? Does he have amnesia somewhere? Does he wander off? Is he in a kind of coma? So yes, the way it ends is pretty profound."

"As regards to the end of Tremors 7, let me just say that while people ASSUME Burt is gone, we never see his remains, do we? Just sayin.'

"The only reason he has become the main character is that everyone else in the original cast moved on to other things. I NEVER thought of him as the central figure, but it just worked out that Michael Gross, like Burt Gummer, was a "survivor." :0) "

"No one would like to see it more than I!!! One of my greatest regrets is that so many other cast members fell away over time. Reba was on to other things, Kevin said no to a second, Fred said no to a third. I would LOVE one last go with all of them, but it is not up to me. :0( "

"There are no guarantees, but for those who wonder aloud if this is the final film, I will say what I have said before: SALES drive sequels, Show biz is 5% show and 95% business, so if this latest addition to the Tremors franchise, sells well, [Universal] will follow the money, and Universal Pictures Home Entertainment may will be back for more."

/u/ActorMichaelGross, the bell has been rung and the song sung. Get the producers on this ASAP!!

I was also the first person to discover the symbolic foreshadowing of Stumpy's end with Earl's sleeping bag in the original movie.

Let's just say, I really *really* love these movies. So if anyone knows anyone, hook me up to the producers of this series and I'll Justin Lin in the Fast and Furious out of this shit.

Since I don't think it's good to critique without proposing either, I say we can make up for this fuck up with the next movie. We'll call it Tremors 8: Ouroboros. After the snake which eats its own tail.

We find out Burt faked his death to get the Proudfoot Corporation to let down their guard and when everyone from the previous series comes back for Burt's fake funeral they give him ever loving shit for being such a paranoid whack-job that he would fake his death to fool a government agency. Why would he do this? He found an old photo of Hiram Gummer with a Graboid warning on the back and asks himself why this valley, why these things, why allways me? And we find out, it's not Burt. It's that lifestyles of extremes will end up in places of extremes. Burt and the Graboids are survivors of different species. Sure the Proudfoot Corporation IS using Mixmaster to combine Graboids, Shriekers, and Ass-Blasters into one super creature for the military but it pales in comparison to Burt looking at his life and wondering in shame how many ancient giants like himself he has killed. And with that, he actually dies, and we keep the ball rolling with the rest of the characters trying to stop what they allways thought was just another one of Burt's crazy conspiracies.

That's why it's Ouroboros. Everything comes back around. We could end/start the movie with Grady, Earl, and Jodi opening a Monster World in Perfection Valley a la Desert Jack's Graboid Adventure. I don't know. I'm fucking trying harder than the people they paid to do this already.

It ain't perfect but I'm building on sand here so changes are gonna get made.

Like if the makers of Tremors notice this,

Then DM me because fucking A you guys need some help.

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crystalstar8 · 4 years ago

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 7)

Chapter 7

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,367

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

After they had shown the ghost hunting documentary at game night, which everyone had loved, Jungkook declared that he was thirsty and was going on a hunt for beverages. That’s how Catalina found herself searching the front of the house for the garage with him, since Taehyung said, “There’s soda pop in the garage refrigerator.”

They ended up in a back kitchen, which connected to a mudroom, which led them to the garage. The garage was filled with ancient looking equipment and a tractor so rusty, Catalina figured she could shatter it with a good tap.

“Here they are!” Jungkook said, facing two refrigerators against the wall.

“Which one is for the soda pop?” asked Catalina. Jungkook opened both at once. The one on the left was filled with pop, beer and a single head of moldy broccoli. The other was filled with…

“What do you want? Coke?” Jungkook asked, closing the other fridge and reaching into left one.

“Wait, what was in that other fridge?” asked Catalina. She opened the one on the right. Blood bags. It was filled with blood bags. They both gasped.

“The secret soda pop,” Jungkook whispered. Catalina slapped his arm.

“Jungkook! Why do they have these?” she asked. Jungkook shook his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of them is a doctor or something?” he said.

“Probably not,” Catalina thought for a moment. “Not a word about this to anyone. We’ll discuss it later. Let’s just go enjoy game night. We probably shouldn’t stay the night though. Just in case.”

“Right. Got it. So, coke?” he asked, pulling an entire case of coke out of the left fridge.

“Yeah, coke is good,” Catalina nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Catalina sat up in bed on her laptop, unable to fall asleep. She just couldn’t stop thinking about what she saw in that fridge. She opened Google on her laptop and typed in “vampires”. Most of the sites that came up were about vampire novels or movies. She typed in “vampire history” instead. This gave her a bit more. There were tales about bloodsucking monsters all over the world. In Europe, they were considered demons or witches. There were many names for them throughout the middle east and Asia, but all the stories had the same few things in common: red eyes, superhuman speed and strength, unnatural beauty, and the need to drink human blood.

Catalina closed her laptop and sat against the wall, since her mattress was still on the floor against the wall. She had seen enough. Catalina knew what she needed to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The front door looked less intimidating than it did the first time Catalina had laid eyes on the house, but her heart still pounded in her chest as she raised a hand to knock. She waited a few seconds before the door opened. It was Namjoon. Catalina’s heart stuttered. God damn, he is so beautiful…

“Oh, hi!” he said. “What are you doing out so late? Not that I mind seeing you- I mean…”

Catalina giggled and momentarily forgot why she was here. Namjoon scratched the back of his head.

“Um, anyway, come on in,” he said.

“I was actually wondering if we could go for a walk,” said Catalina. Namjoon nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He led Catalina into the woods on the cobblestone path.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” he asked as they strolled side by side. Catalina felt her heartrate pick up again.

“I know what you are,” she said. Namjoon stopped and faced her.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Don’t play dumb Namjoon. I know what you are,” said Catalina. The confusion melted from his face, replaced with an intense gaze.

“Say it,” said Namjoon.

“You have blood red eyes, and all of you are unnaturally beautiful. I haven’t seen it, but I bet you have superhuman strength and speed,” said Catalina. “I saw the fridge in the garage. It was filled with blood bags.”

“Say it,” Namjoon said again. “Out loud.”

“Vampire.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I know you won’t hurt me,” Catalina said, looking up at him.

“You know the risk, and yet, you still want to see us,” he said.

“You’re not a killer.”

“I’m a predator, Catalina. Everything about me is meant to draw you in. You couldn’t outrun me if you tried, and you certainly couldn’t fight me,” said Namjoon.

“Namjoon. I don’t care. You and your friends have been nothing but kind to us. I’ve seen you all and none of you seem like you want to drink our blood,” said Catalina.

Namjoon scoffed and said, “You have no idea how much I’d like to taste your blood. You smell…irresistible.”

Catalina blushed. “Can you stop? Once you’ve had a taste?”

“What?”

“I mean, if you were to drink from me, would you be able to control yourself before you took too much?” Catalina asked. She couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was playing with fire, but the thought of it made her a bit dizzy with anticipation. Her blush was hot all the way down her neck.

Namjoon stared at her and said, “You can’t be serious.”

Catalina shrugged and brushed her hair off her shoulder, baring her neck. Namjoon smirked and shook his head. Catalina’s flush turned to one of embarrassment.

“I’m not drinking from you,” Namjoon said. “I’m old enough to control myself, but what if I wasn’t? A younger vampire wouldn’t have turned you down either.”

Catalina sighed and said, “Sorry, I don’t know why I asked that.”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon said. They continued walking.

“So, vampires are real?” Catalina asked. Namjoon nodded. “Are other things real? Like werewolves and demons?”

“Werewolves are real, but you probably won’t ever meet one,” Namjoon explained. “They tend to live off the grid and the ones who don’t are hunted pretty relentlessly by the Pack Hunters. Also, demons[PG1] aren’t real. Religion is a human based concept that holds no truth.”

“So, crucifixes don’t repel you or anything?” Catalina asked. Namjoon laughed and said no. “Cool, wait who are the Pack Hunters?”

“The Pack Hunters are an organization that hunts werewolves,” he said. “They say that they’re protecting society but most of the time, the people they hunt are harmless, just trying to live peacefully. It is a problem in the werewolf community. Werewolves can no longer live in packs like they used to. They’ve been on the run for so long, it’s basically every man for himself.”

“That’s terrible,” said Catalina. She had so many questions buzzing through her head and she didn’t know where to start. She supposed what she was most curious about was what lore was true and what wasn’t. “Do you have fangs?”

Namjoon flashed a toothy smile, showing off sharp fangs. Catalina gasped.

“I didn’t notice those on any of you guys before!” she said.

“That’s because we didn’t want you to notice,” said Namjoon.

“Can you be killed with a wooden stake?” asked Catalina.

“No.”

“Does silver hurt you?”

“Yes, it just burns a bit.”

“Can you enter a place before being invited in?”

“It’s not the polite thing to do, but technically yes.

“Do you burn up in sunlight?”

“Not exactly, we’re just more susceptible to really bad sunburns.”

“Are you actually immortal?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?” Catalina asked.

“Twenty-three.”

“How long have you been twenty-three?”

A pause. “A while. Catalina, I’d love to stay out and answer your questions, but don’t you have class tomorrow morning?” asked Namjoon.

“Do you need sleep?” she asked. Namjoon sighed.

“No, I can sleep but I don’t need to. I’m pretty sure it’s nearing two in the morning,” he said.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry for bombarding you with questions,” said Catalina. They stepped off the trail and Catalina didn’t even realize they had made their way back to the house.

“No, it’s okay,” said Namjoon. “I never mind spending time with you.”

Catalina blushed again.

“I like spending time with you too,” Catalina mumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

“I’ll drive you home. Someone recently went missing in this town, you shouldn’t be out at night alone,” he said.

(Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!!)

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alexius-fr · 4 years ago

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Chapter Two - By the River

What’s this, two lore posts in a week? YES IT IS

Click the link to follow it to the AO3 version, otherwise please enjoy it under the cut ^^

Early morning, dew still on the vines, Sanguine set out for a walk through the nearby bamboo forest. It was the one moment of the day where he'd be unbothered and alone, Silas still soundly asleep, and if he knew his brother, he would stay asleep until at least noon. Sanguine could not sleep that long anymore, he couldn't lie still long enough without pain in his scarred left shoulder. He stiffly stretched it as he walked out of the caverns, the sun just rising. He shook off the dust he'd gathered over night and headed over to the river to rinse himself clean. His scales had suffered on the long flight and he needed grooming badly. The quiet, early morning was perfect for that, Sanguine sitting himself down by the river after his bath.

It'd been a while since he had any personal time, Sanguine enjoying the peace and quiet, the water rushing in the river and the rustling of the bamboo in the wind while he groomed himself. Perhaps this place wasn't as terrible as he'd thought at first. Lazying in the morning sun after his grooming, he picked up movement a bit further down the stream, lifting his head to see better.

It was Zephyr, Sanguine recognized his striking green markings. He appeared to be fishing, head snapping down into the stream occasionally and coming back with his prize. He carried a great basket strapped to his midriff that was half full already. Quite the skilled fisher then. Sanguine watched, not wanting to disturb the young ridgeback in his activities, secretly envying his strenght of body. It'd been a long time ago when he could hunt like that. Zephyr noticed him, cocking his head curiously, Sanguine nodding solemnly as a greeting. Zephyr returned the greeting, then resumed his fishing with a bit more vigour.

His wet, verdant green hide glistened in the sunlight, a certain grace to his step as he walked up stream gingerly, holding still and tensing his muscles, ready for the attack. Sanguine watched with intrigue, Zephyr striking quick as a flash, coming back out of the water with a triumphant grin and a giant rainbow trout between his teeth. Sanguine smiled, not unimpressed. Zephyr was clearly competent, and showing it off too. He wasn't expecting the youngster to come over to him, but he did, still dripping wet, the trout still in his mouth until he dropped it gingerly in front of Sanguine, head low, a bit a cautious of his reaction. Sanguine just looked at him, placing one long nailed claw on the fish and putting it out of it's floppy misery, admitting that he was a little bit flattered. He granted Zephyr a small smile. To think he could be the object of someone's fancy in this poor state.

“Thought you might be hungry after a flight like that.” Zephyr said. “Alexius said you came from far.”

“Thank you.” Sanguine said. “I am quite hungry, actually.” “Enjoy.” Zephyr smiled, glad to see his offering be accepted. He left Sanguine to eat in peace, which Sanguine very much appreciated. The last thing he needed was for someone to watch him eat.

Instead he got to watch Zephyr show off his fishing skills some more, which wasn't exactly a punishment. Sanguine watched with attention, noticing how Zephyr kept glancing over to see if he was looking at him. His grin grew wider every time their eyes met, Sanguine catching himself in an indulgant smile as well. A strange little flicker started in his chest, spurring on an instinct he didn't know he had. He could perhaps not show off his hunting skills, but when he rose and stretched, he made sure to unfurl his wings to their full capacity, flexing their overworked muscles despite the strain it caused. He pretended to yawn lazily, curling back up on his little perch but he was far more aware of his position now, making sure to move with purpose and grace.

“I'll bet you were quite the hunter, before that injury.” Zephyr said, obviously admiring him. Sanguine smiled. “So I was. But it did not last long.”

“Why? What happened?” Zephyr asked, curious. Sanguine shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. It would only lower Zephyr's opinion of him.

“I'd rather talk about you.” he diverted the subject. “Me? I don't see how I could possibly be of interest.” Zephyr said, ceasing his fishing and joining Sanguine, if at a respectful distance.

“Tell me anyway. Then I'll decide for myself.” Sanguine invited him, Zephyr accepting with an open expression. He helped himself to one of the fish he'd caught, quickly devouring it before he started his story.

“Alright.. Well, I was born here, on the Spire. I've not seen much of the world, but I've heard many a tale from travelers coming through here. I serve Alexius at the temple, as their right hand. I make sure the pantry is well stocked and that there's money for our expenses. I guess I'm sort of a quartermaster.” Zephyr said. “Though what I'm catching today is for my parents' stall, at the market. You might have seen it when you arrived. You caused quite the commotion, by the way. Everyone's talking about you.”

“Good.” Sanguine grinned. “I like making a memorable impression.” “Well you've certainly succeeded at that.” Zephyr chuckled. “So..will you please tell me about yourself? I'm mighty curious.” “And very bad at hiding it.” Sanguine said, although he couldn't help but find it endearing.

“Sorry.” Zephyr grinned with a sense of guilt. “I've just never seen such a powerful looking dragon before, and I must confess myself a bit intrigued.”

“Alright, very well.” Sanguine caved, flattered by the interest and the compliment. Zephyr settled in for a good story, looking excited, Sanguine side eye-ing him with a cheeky smile, one Zephyr returned.

“Well, I was born in the Scarred Wasteland, to a clan called the Bloodborn. I barely knew my mother, and my father I never met. I wasn't in the clan for long. My mother stopped caring about me after two days. She left me and my clutchmate to fend for ourselves, to prove we could survive. Before long, I sacrificed my little sister to the vultures so I could eat them.” Sanguine gauged Zephyr's reaction to this crude retelling of his first days, but the youngster was fascinated, looking at him in awe. Sanguine frowned, surprised. He'd expected him to recoil, look disgusted, perhaps call him heartless. But Zephyr did none of those things, though he did look horrified.

“That's awful. I'm so sorry your mother did that.” he said.

Sanguine was so baffled he couldn't think of what to say next, blinking sheepishly. He'd never been pitied for his past before. Reviled, sure. He knew how to deal with that. But compassion? Never.

“Well- it's.. it made me stronger.” Sanguine managed to mumble.

“Stronger perhaps. But did it make you happy?” Zephyr asked, with eyes that looked too wise for his age. Sanguine recoiled, the question hitting too hard, too fast.

“That's no business of yours.” Sanguine rose to his feet, lip pulled up in a snarl, defensive walls being pulled up. Zephyr lowered his head cautiously, taking more distance from Sanguine.

“I'm sorry. I was too free. I'll listen quietly now, I promise.” Zephyr apologized. Sanguine considered it, a spark of irritation still in his chest. But the irritation wasn't aimed at Zephyr. He was only curious. A bit too familiar too fast maybe, but he wasn't malicious. No, he was annoyed with himself for how quickly he turned into a defensive, angry beast.

Into her.

“It's.. fine.” he sighed, strained. He shook his head and relaxed his claws, that had dug into the sand.

He forced himself to calm, breathing deep. Zephyr relaxed as well, though he remained careful. Sanguine laid himself back down, trying his best to look unfazed, but he suspected it was a miserable attempt. Still, Zephyr had the good sense to remain quiet, only observing him. He was right though. It hadn't made him happy. He thought it had, at the time. After all, what was there to strive for but survival and power? Although perhaps that wasn't all there was to life. Sanguine saw it in Zephyr's eyes. Life, joy, freedom. He had a choice. He'd always had a choice.

Sanguine leaned closer, the pale green of Zephyr's eyes drawing him in. Zephyr lightly cocked his head, but did not draw back. He looked curious, but to what, Sanguine couldn't discern. He flinched slightly when their noses gently touched as he leaned in a bit too far, but it was enough to snap him out of his thoughts.

“You've seen much.” Zephyr said, again with those wise eyes. “The darkness is in your eyes. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just..well I want you to know I think you're very strong, for going through all of it. And if you ever think you're ready to talk about it, I'll be right here.” he smiled kindly. Again the sympathy that Sanguine had no idea how to handle, so he just nodded.

“I oughta get back up there. The catch's gotta be fresh.” Zephyr stood up, shaking off the sand that had stuck to his wet hide. “Come see me up top sometime.” he invited Sanguine, before taking off and leaving a very confused Sanguine to his thoughts.

When Sanguine returned to the caverns, Silas was finally awake, although he was still lazying about on his roost.

“There you are. Are we leaving yet?” Silas asked, head hanging upside down from the ledge.

“No. Not yet.” Sanguine said. “In fact I think we'll stay here for a good while still.” “Aw, what?” Silas complained. “You mean I have to actually interact with the locals?”

“They're not so bad.” Sanguine said, with a little smile.

“'Not so bad'? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?” Silas frowned, the movement almost causing him to almost fall out of his nest. Sanguine rolled his eyes and started to explore deeper into the cavern. If they were staying, he'd better get to know their new lair.

And maybe, just maybe, he would indeed visit Zephyr up top.

#fr #flight rising #fr lore #flight rising lore #fr lore dragons

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