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animeshotsh · 6 months ago

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In love with Control (Lucifer x OverlordMakima!Reader)

Summary: Lucifer its in love! Or is he?... Charlie cant help but be upset of this.

Warnings: HH violence - Manipulation - Cannibal mention - Insults - Cursing - Kind of soft tho - Grammmar mistakes -

PT2 of this

Charlie knows she should be upset that her dad just decided to spent more time in the Hotel because of a centrain Control Demon. Who could not care less about the kings crush over them, it was a good spawn to use whatsoever, so (Y/N) made sure to keep the fake facada towards him.

Of course they noticed that the princess of hell was not so happy about her fathers actions, while (Y/N) found it fun to watch, it was also a lose that needed to be repair.

"Princess" (Y/N) bowed towards Charlie who in reaponse tried to tell (Y/N) how that was not necesary, not used to the formality Charlie blushed as (Y/N) next words left their mouth.

"I apologies if this causes you discorfm, however you are the heir of hell and such i must act according to it"

"T-there is no need (Y/N)!! Really, we are all friends in here after all" Charlie responded taking (Y/N)'s hands "Im really happy you are giving this a try"

(Y/N) smiled at the princess, they could not understand how this was the pawn of Lucifer itself.

"Princess, I would like to apologie if the resent interactions between the king of hell and myself has made you uncomfortable. If you want I can call our meetings off"

Meeting were Lucifer showing up randomly, putting much effort in impressing the Control Demon.

Charlie was suprised. She had to admit that it did hurt her to see her father being now interested only because (Y/N) was present. But, did her father not deserve happynes too? Who was she to denied such a thing.

And you were so considerated. Oh! Charlie could tell you were going to be one of the firsts demons to be saved.

"I aprecciate your concer, but there is no need. Im happy to see my dad out of his office more and...and seeing him making a new friend. There is no reason for both of you to stop seeing each other"

The smallest of a smirk appear on your face.

"Thanks Princess you are very kind"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

After the first time Lucifer saw you, he was hunted in the good sense by your eyes. These spiral eyes, it made him feel emotions he thought did not exist anymore.

Yet, anytime you two would meet up for tea or just for a walk, you would keep eye contact making the king of hell feel his soul being pulled out from his chest. His ideas and words would cramble as you would still talk about whatever topic you two were on.

"Your majesty, are you alright?" You asked pulling down the cup of tea. Lucifer was once again lost in your words and image.

"Eh?-oh yes! Sorry, ammm work has been in my mind lately" He lied taking a nervous sip, ignoring how hot the tea was.

"Oh? If its too much i can help" Pulling your hands under your chin you saw as how he gluped down some saliva, he was not expecting an offer like that.

What better chance to discover the secrets of hell if not by being besides the one who made it himself? This was a unique chance you were going to try and reach.

Lucifer had two ideas, one from where exactly he would find much work that needed you to be by his side- helping him of course, and two that it was an amazing oportunity to pass more time with you.

"Ummm, well I- I have it covered....from now"

Lucifer saw your reaction, your eyes being cast down and your shoulder defeating. He felt like he had just broken something.

However, that reaction was once again a calculated one. After spending so much time with Lucifer you got to see and understand what made the small king feel guilty and would make him fall down into your trap.

"B-but there are some really old books that needs to be clean and organized"

He cringed at his stupid "extra work" and waited to see your reaction or hear your words.

"Oh....so you are having a hard time with daily tasks" you said taking one hand to your face and thinking "I guess, its normal that even your majesty would face that type of thing. If you allow it would be an honor to help you sort these books"

One part of Lucifer was jumping while the other was completly frozen. You, someone whos name was whisper in fear in the circle, someone with so much power and intelligence, would do such a thing as organize books?

"I loved them when i was alive. Never was a big fan of Tvs or any electronic device, the touch of the paper and the different covers" You closed your eyes, adding drama to the moment, missing how Lucifer eyes almost turned in hearts.

"Well, its settled then. I can- i can call you so you can come over?..." Lucifer asked feeling like a young teen asking out his crush.

"At anytime your majesty"

"Please, Lucifer its fine" You were going to kill him if you continued to adress him as that.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Later that night at the Hotel the dark corridors where filled with silence as you walked to your room a neutral expression on your face.

"Well, i must say I havent quiet find someone who's tongue is as sharp as a blade" The static voice and laughts from a deer demon said making you stop to turn and look at him with a smile.

"Alastor, its a pleassure to see you tonight. Do you need something?"

"I must say, seeing the king of hell fall down over a sinner who only tells lies has its own charm Dear. Its a shame not everybody falls under your spell"

"Im not sure what you are talking about but..."

Grey chains appear behind you swiftly going for Alastor's head and pircing it.

"I still see you as nothing but a lowlife cannibal, who seeks nothing but entretaiment in others fails, when you are the very example of one. Being caught and shoot to death when being alive, and then having your soul being held by someone. To me all you are is a kid, crying for his mother, wishing to be in a different situation but finding yourself again at the bottom. And I know this because this is not the first time you try to corner me, but we both know how this ends....or well I do"

"Alastor, you wont remember seeing me here tonight. Whatever you overhear when I talked to Lucifer you wont remember it. You will go to your room, lock the door and sleep till tomorrow morning when Charlie ends needing you"

Alastor eyes devoid of emotions or any type of sign of being there. He just nodded his creepy smile not leaving. Slowly he turned back and went all the way to his room.

"Oh many times is he going to try get in my way" You murmured to yourself as you continued walking. "Well, i can always order him to kill the Hotel staff, im sure that would piss the princess really bad" You finally said with a sadistic smile as your eyes brighted in the dark.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #charlie x reader

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ideasarestuckinmyhead · 2 months ago

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Grocery store love.

I am so sorry for this. Yes, it's a Derek fic....Imagine he like stayed in jail or whatever the fuck and got out decided that crime life sucked.

Edit: noticed some shit misspelled but to be fair I literally sped ran this fanfic-

It's been a few years after that night, where he got sliced up. The scar sometimes acts up when he thinks back to it, but Derek shakes it off. Getting ready to go to work at the grocery store he somehow got hired at.

The old couple that owned the place needed a guy with muscle. Also able to reel in the younger hires that wouldn't fucking listen to them. Luckily them seeing Derek give the hires a look and how easily he took control got him the job.

And here he is now, arguing with a random mom on a Wednesday afternoon. Why you might ask? The dipshit kid of her's knocked over the fucking display of oranges. Now their scattered and Derek getting fed up is really close to just kicking her out.

"Look, lady, your kid has been running around causing trouble just make him an apology and actually keep him near you." Gritting out with a smile, the long haired man cursed in his head seeing the mom give him a death glare. Jesus fuck the urge to just punch her is becoming more unbearable NOT to do.

"You will NOT TELL ME HOW TO TAKE CARE OF M-" The lady's screeching was cut off by another shopper. Who stepped between her and Derek, looking down he saw them pointing a finger at her.

"Aright bitch, listen up because it seems your fuckin deaf! Your lil' hell spawn if giving everyone a hard fucking time. All this kind man told ya to do was apologize because ya can't control your crotch demon!" The person in front of the black abused man ranted. The lady could only gasp as they insulted her kid. But they didn't let up, turning to Derek with a kind smile.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this on such a nice day. Honestly if she has ANY decently she'll leave because everyone hates her." Whispering loudly, the person smirked hearing the lady huff in anger. The little boy was arguing while his mother shushed him and dragged him out.

The people watched all gave a relief look before going back to shopping. Derek looked down and saw the person start picking up oranges. Blinking he went to them and began using his apron to carry most up.

"Uh, thanks. For tellin' that lady off and um, helping me with this." It was weird thanking people still. But Derek learned quickly after getting this job. The person holding oranges beside him snorted and waved him off.

"It's fine. That crazy lady couldn't get her head out her ass to watch her kid. At least I hope she will now before her kid turns into a thug." Chuckling, the person started putting the oranges they picked up back into the display. Derek slightly paused at the word thug, huh it's been a while since he heard that word.

Shaking it off he stood by the person and continued putting the oranges back. Debbie, one of the newer hires rushed by and asked if she needed to help. Derek shooed her off and told her to go to the cash register since he's doing this now.

While talking he saw the person looking at him in the corner of his eye. Turning he saw how, they were actually kinda cute. At least when their not spitting fire with their words at people who deserved it.

"If ya don't mind. What's your name? I could give you a discount for helping me with that mess and with the lady." Suggesting Derek gave them a soft smile. The person nodded and cleared their throat giving him the same smile.

"I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you..." (Y/N)'s voice got lower as they realized they didn't know his name. Chuckling Derek introduced himself, the shorter person nodded and mumbled his name.

It sounded nice when they said it, Derek then heard a old voice calling him. Ah, it seems William got word of what happened that old man was on break when it happened.

"If you wait here I can get the owner to give you a discount. Just uh get me a second spit fire." Mumbling Derek then walked to his boss. Began ingredients to explain what happened to the orange display the old man worked so hard in making.

(Y/N) stood there processing on what they were just called. Spit fire, well, they were really firey with that lady they have a tendency to do that. But that Derek was kinda hot, they couldn't help but wonder what type of discount they'd get.

After the long haired man finish explaining what happened his boss did give (Y/N) a discount. They thanked him and Derek even personally checked them out at his register. The tall man then gave them a charming smile wishing them a good day and come back soon.

Walking out, both wondered if the other felt the spark that happened between them. (Y/N) with seeing that charming smile and Derek seeing their firey words. Who knows maybe there's going to be a grocery store love soon?

#red rants #yuurivoice #yuurivoice derek #red writes

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guide-to-world-domination · 2 years ago

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I can’t stop imagining spider becoming an absolute badass, like the amount of ideas literally keep me up at night. For example, imagine that one day, Neytiri just goes off on Spider and says the most foul things to him - stuff that was so horrendous, even people who equally hated Spider being around had to try and calm her down, because what she was saying was completely out of line. To spider, he’s heard this all from the People, the Scientists, the McCoskers - but Neytiri always strikes a cord that can’t be fixed or shrugged off easily. The only thing that snaps him from his thoughts, was what Neytiri said next while she was being pulled away from the situation.

“You will never be One of the People. Your father is a Demon, and your mother is worse for ever loving him and producing such Spawn”

There it is the breaking point. Spider has always turned the other cheek when it comes to people that insult him or insult him by comparing him to his father. He always found that retaliation and tantrums only proved his accusers assumptions correct. But nobody. Nobody insults his mother. Spider could have screamed back and shouted bloody murder at her, but at this point, he just doesn’t care. She isn’t worth trying to prove himself to. His siblings know who he is, that’s enough.

From that day on, he doesn’t go to High Camp again and doesn’t wear his loincloth. He starts wearing cargo pants and tank tops, but he keeps his armbands, knife and jewellery. He wants to come into his own identity, but he can’t shed what remains of his past life (trying to be part of the Omaticaya). Personally, I don’t think that Norm and the other Scientists wouldn’t care too much about what spider does until he crosses a line or breaks a rule that they haven’t outright told him (that kind of behaviour is traumatising, I would know 🙂). So when figures out to give himself piercings and tattoos, they are livid. They are shocked at the transformation - where painted blue stripes used to be, there were inky black stripes that passed over every limb and even on his face; where dirty brown locs used to be, golden blond hair was fashioned into a Viking braid reaching down his back (similar to a kuru).

The only person that understands and doesn’t overreact is Max. Personally, that man was a dark horse in his family before he came to Pandora, I know it in my soul (Headcanon coming soon or after this post). He takes it on himself to support Spider and nurture his clear talents. He wishes he could have raised spider as his own, but knew that he would be shunned by his colleagues for raising his son - he couldn’t be seen as a disgrace after his time as a child.

Spider had a number of talents and skills, including Engineering, Chemistry, Languages, Marksmanship and martial arts. Max helped to nurture each and everyone. Some days, he would have Spider build and repair weapons and tech. Other days, Spider would learn chemical reactions or a new language. Every evening, Max would instruct Spider in combat and would exercise and lift with him to encourage him. Over the course of a month or two, Spider was unrecognisable. He took in information like a sponge and soon Max was running out of things to teach him. Piloting Samsons and Scorpions - took a few tries, but Spider was truly a born pilot like Paz. Stealth and parkour - He was already a natural, but he was fooling Na’vi warriors more often than not after a week of practice.

Eventually, when Jake started performing raids on RDA Trains, Spider knew it was time to put this all into practice. You see, deep down, he still wanted to prove himself to the People, but not so he could be one of them. He wanted to prove himself, to show them what he forged himself into despite them. However, he knew Jake would never approve him going along - he was still a child. The thought to Spider was ludicrous; Spider never believed he was a child, because no child goes through what he did and remains a child. So he decides to go anyway and doesn’t bother with permission. Though, he does ask Max, who understandably forbids this from happening. After reasoning that he would be safer if he got support to complete this venture, Max relented after hours of back and forth.

And thus, Araña was born. Imagine Winter Soldier getup (Hydra-controlled Bucky, not White Wolf armour) where the half mask acts as his rebreather so he doesn’t risk glass from a regular mask entering his eyes. All manners of weapons are strapped to his body including an Assault Rifle, a revolver (nobody knows that it was actually Quaritch’s revolver that delivered the fatal shot to Grace), A bow and quiver, a LOT of knives and a grenade or two. He looks terrifying but despite this Max feels proud - not about his boy going to fight in a war that has devastated everything he loves, but because this kid, his son, has stepped into his role as a defender and Max is proud of how far Spider has come to reach his goals.

Queue Spider being the biggest menace to RDA society that has ever existed. There was no reason for the Na’vi Ground forces to blow up the rail line, because Spider had already hijacked the train and pulled the breaks. The look of an anonymous Sky Person swing around the train killing and disarming grown men confused everyone in the raiding party, especially the Sully��s. There was something familiar about the acrobatics of this mysterious warrior, the answer on the tips of their tongues. It was only after Spider saved Lo’ak and Neteyam from the missile strike, that everyone realised who this person was. Nobody believed it until Spider spoke and then all he’ll broke loose.

I apologise if this too long or weird, I just needed to get this out of my head. I’ll definitely be adding to this given time, regardless of whether or not people like it, and the only thing that can stop me is my undiagnosed AuDHD.

Farewell to all, Yours sincerely,

Your Favourite Evil Overlord

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fallentheatre · 5 months ago

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Time... to be a little insane <3

I entirely blame @hoverboards-and-dragons for all of this. They introduced me to the God and Archangels concept brainrot and then the Roo brainrot. And this should help explain any drawings we do with these funky designs too.

First, lets meet the cultivator of creation himself, Ady (Adonai)! (AKA the 'God' figure)

He's a gigantic plant entity that can re-arrange his floral body in ways of slightly less concerning body horror. One moment he has paws, the next, all the roots in his legs mangle and reform into claws. The yellow cloak of leaf-fur can expand into wings, but he doesn't use those all that often. He's large, a big beast. Just a massive mass of plant deity that is incredibly soft to touch.

Creation is his garden and he intends to remove it of all parasites through any means necessary.

He also will photosynthesize in the sun. He's not mediating. He's eating. Let him eat in peace.

Meanwhile... we have the parasite he's been trying to rid creation of from day one.

Roo! The 'root of evil' in Ady's creation garden (Their garden)

Where Ady is gentle fun leaf-based body horror, Roo is straight flesh and gore. A parasitic mole in the eyes of Ady and by extension his creations, Roo is something that needs to be exterminated, though none have the power to do so. She's got plant-like elements to her, something that insults Ady personally, due to her 'lure' human-like form sprouting out of the mouth like a flower.

Oh yeah, it's a lure. What easier way to draw prey into the jaws of death than to look like a struggling victim in a sinkhole? It also makes Ady feel uncomfortable beyond belief after the lure becomes more human-esque to specifically and personally drive Ady insane. They're awful to each other. Complete enemies who drove each other to become who they are today. If they aren't ripping one another's throats out, they're being the pettiest people alive.

Roo is a lot more chill compared to Ady. She kinda just does her thing, as she too is fundamental in creation. Roo and Ady spawned together in the abyss and expanded it to become more. No matter how vile her action or how Ady ensures all know her as evil and rot, Roo is vital to creation. They even created their first living organism together in collaboration. That is when it turned for the worst, as their morals clashed until they started to flash their teeth and unsheathe their claws in battle. Ady is generally well put-together, despite being a complete goofball on the outside. But when Roo is around? All his whimsy is gone. There is only mutual hatred and violence.

They're both big beasts, and the full body of Roo is yet to be determined. They're so fascinating because everything would be going so well if they just. Didn't resort to violence and aggression when things dont go their way. They're the only ones who can truly pose a physical threat to one another, and therefore are the only ones they lose their own composure's around.

Still working on the finer details, as these are just concepts at this stage, but I love them dearly. They're awful I hope they maul each other so thoroughly that they cannot tell each other apart in the carnage they make.

Roo kind of became just the blame for everything. Yeah she takes full credit for the things she did do-- she doesn't regret anything. But Ady sees her as the core source of evil, when all he wants to do is spread and nurture good. Roo has accepted the role of evil, not really caring for nor needing a definition for what she does, and Ady kind of forces everyone to see her as nothing but evil. Good and Evil just happen, but both have strange relationships with the ideas. I'm still figuring it out but like. Everything is a grey area can you two stop and accept that please! No? Well. Just keep arguing then I guess.

But yeah she's sick of Ady's shit as much as Ady is beyond frustrated and furious at her.

I also did her demon disguise / form! I don't know how to describe clothing or anything but I really like her. And the downward markings on her stomach is her body showing. It's like a slightly soft exoskeleton? I don't know how to explain pffff.

I then decided to also go ahead and do a human version of Ady. Comedy gold I tell you. Both of these guys make me very happy <3

And as a treat, I also did rough ideas for how Lucifer and Micheal look!

And before anyone says anything, no, those aren't top surgery scars. They are natural markings. Since Lucifer is the morningstar, rising before the sun, it's supposed to make the star on his chest look like it is rising, where Micheal, the eveningstar, is supposed to be setting! (I'd say falling, but that feels... disrespectful lmao)

They also get the leaf-fur elements and some more nature theming due to my idea really focusing on the garden aspect (because it is so fun and i love plant / bug / animal designs so much). Also tried to make Lucifer look more snake-like where Micheal really seems to be heavy on the bird elements (did I hear birds hunting snakes? No? well... what a very funny thing to hear from the wind ehe)

Uhhh yeah. First time trying to ramble out a few of the concepts I have. No idea if I explained anything well but hey! What are rough first drafts if not scribbles on a page?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin god #hazbin roo #hazbin lucifer #hazbin micheal #hazbin AU concepts #notos's AU concept sketches #i had fun with these and tried to put things into words i really do hope it worked <3 #first time sharing this stuff because why not. it's fun.#oh and the fact that these two will likely be seen in sketch interactions between mine and arrow's versions of the characters #fun all around <3333

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necros-writing-stuff · 1 year ago

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Fuck it, another discord ramble. This time on the menu we have Uncle Eden getting diddled by his yandere nibling. 100% not proofread lol.

Gn reader, noncon, brief choking, Eden is tied up and drugged, somno, psuedocest.

I'm imagining Eden sleeping at Bailey's for a week to take care of his precious kiddo, not allowed to be left alone because so many people would hurt them while Bailey is out of town. They refuse to go into the forest because they have work or college things to do, so Eden has to bite the bullet and come into town. It's all part of their plan, though. Getting the gruff man out of his comfort zone so that his sense of control is wavered. So that he relies on them for a sense of normality and trusts them because of it.

He insists that that stay home as long as possible. Walks them between places when they need to go anywhere. Goes to sleep after them, tries to wake up before them. They lean into it, playing as helpless and innocent while hiding exactly how like their dad they actually are. Because they have a penchant for manipulation, one that Eden overlooks due to his close proximity to them.

They thought they'd be content just recieving all of Eden's attention throughout the week, but as the days come to an end they have an itching under their skin. A longing for more of his touch beyond the chaste kisses to the cheek and platonic cuddles on the couch. They propose a meal. A nice one, in the dining room - they'll be cooking! A treat, a thank you for all Eden has done for them. Eden's steak gets a special seasoning - crushed up sleeping pills massaged into the meat. A pill in his whiskey just to make sure. It has to taste bad, Eden's face scrunches up when he takes a bite, but their bright smile keeps him from saying anything. He couldn't dissapoint them by insulting their gift.

The poor hunter finds it hard to stay awake in his seat, resting his head on his fist as he pokes at the veggies left on his plate. He fights the fluttering of his eyes, shaking his head each time they close. But he can't fight it forever. Soon enough, his eyes close properly and the fork falls onto the plate. Bailey's little demon spawn licks their lips as the slink from the room, fetching the rope from the kitchen and returning with a skip in their step as they tie up their dear Uncle.

They take care to stop him falling into his plate as they bind his legs and arms, using the final length to secure his torso to the backrest for extra safety. With all of the ropes it's hard to undo his pants. They have to cut them open, same with his underwear to get at what lies below. Their heart pounds, their mouth goes dry as their hands clam up.

Fascinated, they take his soft cock in their hands, playing with the length and marvelling at how it hardens the more attention they give. Eden lets out small puffs of breath in his sleep, his hips jolting when they pull at him a little to hard. They're quick to slow down again. They'd never hurt their dear Uncle. They only want to make him feel good. He'll understand when he wakes up - he has to.

It takes everything they have to tear themself away, but they manage after a few minutes. As quickly as they can they sprint to their room to uncover the bottle of lube they had hidden away; a sneaky purchase made at the pharmacy when Eden wasn't looking. They're back beside him in an instant, their pants being kicked off of their legs as they open the cap; curse when they release the safety thing is still on to stop leaks; remove the damn thing as they stand with one leg stuck in their pants; then finally squirt a large amount onto their hand as they slip a finger into their hole.

They consider spending longer working themself, but instead ignore the burning stretch as they get to three fingers as quickly as possible. There's plenty lube left on their hand when they're done, a hand that wraps around Eden half-hard cock and lathers it up as they ensure he's fully hard and ready.

It's been a while since they've had these dreams about Eden. The haunting dreams of his hands all over their body, his whispered words in their ear as he bounces them up and down on their lap. Every morning they'd awaken to nothing but disappointment. Sweet Eden wouldn't touch them. He'd never see them as nothing more than family. Not without some pushing, that is. He needs this. They're meant for each other, he just needs to have his eyes opened.

There's a few stumbles as they get into his lap, his damn thick thighs making them stretch to sit comfortably. They can't reach the floor with their toes as they sit there. A core workout, then. But worth it. With a long hiss, they raise themself up and slide down onto his cock slowly, gritting their teeth as the stretching keeps them from riding the hunter hard and fast as they want to do.

Leaning back onto the table with their elbows helps them find a rhythm when they finally reach the hilt, ignoring the slight pain as they desperately circle their hips and shamelessly moan. The moans are almost a performance - even as Eden sleeps. He'll wake up at any moment, he deserves the first thing he hears and sees to be enticing. With shaking hands, they take off their shirt, flinging it to the floor as they push Eden discarded plate back so they can lean further back into the table and quicken their hips. He's just so big - so filling.

They need more, they need this to never end.

Groans slip from Eden's lips, his head rolling to his shoulder as his eyes struggle to open. A frown turns his lips down, his brows furrowing as their name slips out on a quiet breath.

"Stop..." He tries, clearing his throat as he tries to move. Eden doesn't seem to notice that the ropes are their yet, brain too fogged up to distinguish between outside forces and the lethargy of his own limbs.

"Shh, shh, its okay," they insist, leaning forward to kiss along his jaw and wrap their arms around his wide shoulders. "I'm taking care of you, just let me do it."

The poor hunter still can't quite wake up, more whispers of their name and begging for them to stop as his head lolls forward to rest on their shoulder. His scent is intoxicating, his surprising assailant burying their nose in his hair, loosening the tie that keeps the longer length back to feel the tresses falling over their face. Despite his protests, they feel his cock twitch inside of them. They feel the slight kicks of his hips as they pepper kisses up his neck and suckle on the sensitive patches of skin behind his ear.

Audibly, Eden swallows. His body presses forward as the chair and ropes creak, his strength returning. Yet he remains bound, frustrated growls ringing in their ear.

"Come on, little one. This isn't like you... just let me out," he continues, breathless, yet his voice is losing the grogginess of sleep.

"I promise you'll like it," they return, their kisses coming back up his chin as they attempt to capture his mouth.

Eden is quicker than they expect, dodging the kiss and instead pressing his face to their neck. They chuckle for a second only to yelp when the feeling of his teeth digging into their flesh registers. It's not hard enough to bleed, not even to break the skin. Even now, Eden can't bring himself to hurt them.

They laugh, holding his head to their neck to encourage his biting, their fingers pulling at his hair.

Eden grunts again, his body tensing, his breath fanning across their shoulder, his- His cock spurting rope after rope of seed right into them as the large man shivers and groans.

They stop moving. Their eyes blink as they pull Eden away from their neck slowly, trying to meet his eyes as he attempts to keep his gaze distant.

"Eden?"

He swallows once more, redness creeping up his neck and colouring his cheeks. The silence fills the dining room, awkward and cloying. Slowly, they rolls their hips once more, the need in their gut still their even as Eden's cock softens inside of them.

"Stop!" he yells, eyes going wide as his struggles double in effort.

"No, it's okay, it happens-"

"Why wont you fucking listen?"

"You'll get over the sensitivity, just let me finish."

"That's not the problem!"

Tears gather in their eyes at Eden's denial. He's never yelled at them before. He doesn't have the wherewithall to dodge the kiss this time. They need it, they need him to stop talking, need him to at least pretend.

Eden tries to pull away as their lips meet, but they follow. He keeps his lips sealed as they lick at them. He keeps making muffled noises as they grind their hips harder once more.

Every time he attempts to get out of the chair they feel his muscled body press against their own, his hips sometimes meeting their own and making him hit deeper than before. They gasp, breaking the kiss, whining into another kiss as poor Uncle Eden focuses his efforts on struggling.

Doesn't he remember who taught them all those knots? He did. That's why they know they won't come loose.

Abruptly, Eden stops struggling. It brings hope, hope that he's finally giving in or just too burnt out to keep trying. God, it feels so good to be joined like this. To be this close as his sweat rubs off on them. To pet his chest and rake their fingers down his exposed chest hair, the buttons on his shirt coming undone in the struggle.

Maybe they should have paid more attention to Eden's change. In the end it didn't matter, not as that tightness in their stomach built ever tighter until it teetered right on the edge of snapping. Just a little more, just a few more seconds, just-

Eden's hand raising registers in the corner of their eye as they lean away to gasp for air. It strikes quickly, his large hand wrapping around their throat. It's too late, or perhaps just what they needed to push them over the edge and finish right then and there. It almost sounds like they're sobbing as they cum, the noises becoming strangled as Eden squeezes down on their throat. Insistent to drain bit of pleasure they can, they hurry their grinding, expecting to be pushed away.

They aren't. Eden's head rests against their shoulder, the hunter making another animalistic sound as he shudders. It's hard to giggle when he's choking them, but they feel the bubbling joy in their chest. He came again. Them finishing made him cum again.

Exhausted, satisfied and exhilarated, they let their body relax. Eden's grip in their throat loosens but his hand stays where it his, holding them. They choose to think of it as a loving embrace. This silence is far less awkward for them, more peaceful.

"... Let me out now. Seriously."

"So the past asks weren't serious?"

"Don't tease me, little one. I'm not in a good mood right now."

They tut, and just to be petty they stay right where they are for a few more seconds. It's also just nice to bask in the feeling of being like this. And their legs feel like jelly.

It's a struggle to get up, their mood right up high as they fetch their knife from their abandoned pants. Eden refuses to look at them as they undo the bindings, instead he glares at his whiskey and his plate, pupils flitting between the two as he tries to figure out which is to blame.

"I put it in both, just in case," they confess.

Eden lets out a heavy sigh. He swats their hand away as they go to move his hair behind his ear, stumbling to his feet.

"Did you have to cut up my clothes?" It's nothing but a mumble as he makes his way slowly upstairs. The drugs are still in his system, he likely needs more sleep. He's always grumpy when he's sleepy, he'll have a better outlook on all of this when he wakes up. They know this for certain.

They can't stop smiling as they clean up the dining room. Not when they know that they'll crawl into his bed and spend their final night alone together, in each other's arms, before their father returns in the next afternoon.

#spill my guts #eden the hunter #necro's writing #cw noncon #gn reader #cw psuedocest

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redundantz · 1 year ago

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Some notes~ - Astarion has a lot of sexual experience for sure, but not much true romantic experience(at least not since being a vampire spawn). And his horny ~ VIBES~ are off the charts but his actual horniness is still tbd while he discovers himself. She wasn't very interested in romance/sex almost solely focused on her studies/job and keeping to herself. Demons and undead were her main companions. But when the tadpole situation happened and she was taken from her solitary life and possibly could die any day, and forced to make some allies. She was more open to some experiences, especially if it's an opportunity to learn people's secrets to get an upper hand. - I feel like neither of them are that awkward or jealous except for specific situations. They probably love sharing all the weird and scandalous details about the people they meet. Mean gossip girl style. - She does show her affection through words.....but only if you read between the teasing and insults XD she much prefers actions like physical affection or acts of service that makes her feel less vulnerable. For her, her physicality is less powerful than her words.(its a warlock thing) Eventually, seeing him caring so much about his own bodily autonomy makes her care about his which in turn makes her care more about hers. - Ties in a bit to the confession. She never even expected that to be honest. She's been nothing but off putting. So it also never crossed her mind to confess and she probably wouldn't even if it did. - she doesn't hate PDA but she is not really used to it or how to really show it also that others don't really need to see. Also that he does PDA on purpose to throw her off and bug her also doesn't help lol. But if there is a PDA situation that makes it funny or uncomfortable for others then she probably would because it is amusing. - they love to tease and almost insult each other. It's like a silly flirting game with an edge. It's really fun for them. Esp for her it's easier than being genuine. - She refuses to use pet names and he likes to bug her with increasingly cringe ones. Maybe one day when he doesn't expect it, she calls him “little star” and he almost dies(again) from shock. - She can cook if she has too but she isn't very good. Somehow her warlock skills don't translate into cooking skills. Astarion doesn't cook…cause yeah….. - Being a Warlock she has a ton of experience with bugs, creatures, icky things, and the dead so those bugs don't stand a chance. She got you babygurl. - She's so introverted. Having to hang out with these weirdos is a whole new situation for her. Very exhausting and frustrating…..but she grows to love them. He is definitely extroverted especially with his new found freedom. All the attention babeeee. But I do think he gets exhausted by it all once in a while. - if there is a machine(car) she would know how to operate it or she would find out. Not saying she would operate them well but she would do it. Astarion would say he would with confidence but i fear for anyone in his path LOL. No way is she letting him drive.

filled this out for myself for funsies

#just some fun info #bg3 #astarion x faetheri #long post

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visionofhope04 · 3 years ago

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Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

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author-morgan · 3 years ago

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more Ivarr!!! please! you're fulfilling my simp dreams. could you do one with an arranged marriage type situation? like where Ivarr really likes this princess and does his best not to scare her and be gentler than he normally is?

oh-kayyyy, more Ivarr, music to my ears. I hope you won't mind the little twist I put on it. also, i have absolutely no chill when it comes to ivarr and i think this is one of my favorites I've done for him so far, mostly because it's one of my favorite tropes. so buckle up we've got an almost 5.5k word story ahead. Ivarr the Boneless x fem!Reader

THE SONS OF Ragnar are the last people on God’s good Earth you wish to seek help from, but time does not slow because you want it, and the growing threat of dark and violent times soon to plague your homelands cannot be avoided any longer. You plan to keep your hands clean of the foul deeds that must be done for as long as you can. And despite seeds of doubt taking root and the feeling in your gut telling you this will only exacerbate the situation, you find yourself standing in the heart of the Ragnarssons’ forward camp, having sent an envoy before your arrival —seeking an audience with Ubba and Ivarr. Rumors whispered by little birds tell you they are in the business of killing kings and lords, and they take great pleasure and pride in their work.

You know who he is by look and the way he moves alone when he approaches —the scar running the length of his face back onto his scalp unmistakable, as is the madness in his pale eyes. He waves for your vanguard to make a path, and they part for Ivarr the Boneless without a word. You lift your chin, leveling your gaze with his, having heard the Northmen can smell fear, and seeing Ivarr’s twisted smile, you’re inclined to believe those whispers. He circles you thrice times —a wolf sizing up his prey— before stopping in front of you, looking down his nose. “Princess,” Ivarr greets, tone bordering on mocking.

Stories of his cruelty have chilled your blood in the waking hours of the night. The priests told you and many others that Ivarr the Boneless was a demon, a serpent, a spawn of the Devil himself. His deeds and lust for torture became the stories mothers would tell their children at night. But as he stands before you, eyes bright and gleaming in the setting sun, you find he is just a man —not a demon or a god-made flesh.

He looks at you carefully, attempting to discern what your expression means, what’s turning the wheels of your mind. Ivarr lifts his hand, the back of his fingers almost touching your cheek when you flinch, stepping back as though fleeing a striking snake. “Do not touch me, heathen,” you spit, seeing your vanguard close ranks.

“I do not bite” —Ivarr’s taunting smile widens, a cage of teeth, the scar on his cheek twitching as he laughs. “Hard,” he adds, an afterthought, but it gives him the chance to watch a chill run down your spine and fuel the excitement coursing in his blood.

“Ivarr!” Ubba shouts, emerging from the oiled red-linen pavilion. The look he casts to his brother is a harsh warning. Something flares up in Ivarr’s eyes as he looks from you to his brother —anger, resentment, jealousy. They do not see eye to eye. Ubba walks down the path, garnering a reverence his brother did not yet have. “Mind yourself,” he remarks in passing. “She is our guest.” He offers a small, strained smile to you to act as a balm for Ivarr’s crude behavior. Christian or pagan, you and your vanguard would be treated with respect and hospitality.

Ivarr shrugs. “Only having a bit of fun, weren’t we, princess?” You glare at him, and he cannot say for sure why your harsh gaze cuts him to the quick, but it does.

“RUNNING AWAY FROM home?” Ivarr means it as an insult —to belittle your position and turn your woes into little more than a child throwing a tantrum. You lower your gaze to your hands —clasped in your lap— and push down the rush of emotion the thought of your intended brings. A cruel man, perhaps crueler than Ivarr, with his true person hidden beneath the veneer of a godly and patient man. The first time he struck you had been the moment you learned of his intentions. He bore no love for you or your people, nor would he ever. Aldfrith sought absolute power and would stop at nothing to attain it. He chose you to be his victim.

Now there are less than two moons for you to act before the ceremony that would make him ruler of your small kingdom and leave you all but powerless in the eyes of other rulers. “From my husband-to-be,” you tell Ivarr, silently challenging him to speak of your predicament in jest again. For once, he remains silent, understanding now why you shied away when he lifted his hand earlier.

Aldfrith had not just threatened your birthright though, he all but declared open war upon the Danes residing peacefully amongst the Saxons. Slaughtering them in the night —men, woman, and children alike. The sight still churns your stomach. No man of God would needlessly slaughter the innocent. It is Ubba and Ivarr’s people who felt the cold iron bite —a faction of the disbanded Great Heathen Army. “We have the same enemy,” Ubba assures you. “And we will break Aldfrith.”

WHY IVARR THE Boneless has taken an interest in you, you cannot say. He’s developed a talent for finding you when you wish to be left alone, like now. As you seek absolution in the ruined church at Repton —the floors desecrated with Saxon blood, the screams of Ivarr’s victims still echoing off the stone walls, their corpses hanging from the rafters and steeples. God, I’ve tried, am I lost in your eyes? The calm is interrupted by heavy footfalls. “How does your God find time to listen to everyone’s whining?” Ivarr asks, leaning against the altar you pray at, wiping the blood from his axe.

“It is faith, Ivarr,” you tell him, eyes closed and hands clasped before you —undeterred by his insult, “and trust.” Things you know little of. There’s a rustle of fabric, and you open your eyes, looking up at the son of Ragnar, subservient in your position but standing level with him in wit.

“Faith is for the weak,” he sneers, “and I do not trust anything I cannot bury my axe in.” He waves his axe in front of you, the edge glinting by the light of the burning brazier. You cannot say whether it is a threat or not. “You Christians are all the same,” Ivarr laments, “whining and whimpering to a God who will not listen.” All the prayers uttered here have gone unanswered. They beg for mercy, for their lives, and still bleed out when poked in the right spot. “If he was real and listened, wouldn’t my brothers and I be banished from your lands?” You do not answer. “And yet, here you are, begging us to save your kingdom.”

You rise, lifting your chin —your faith in the Lord can be tried and tested a thousand times over and never falter, but you will not stand for insults on your person. “I did not beg, Ivarr,” you remind him. “I sent only a single letter requesting a meeting, and Ubba agreed to hear me.” His pale eyes narrow, and he shifts on his feet —the shadows cast on his face by the brazier make him look like the devil people claim him to be. “I think you’ll find, Christian or not, that I can be very persuasive.”

He moves closer, looking down his crooked nose at you —his smile turning playful. “Is that so, princess?” Ivarr asks, his brow raised and gaze unabashedly trailing along the curves of your chest and hips. Heat rises to your face. He has taken your words to mean something else. You do not think when you rear back, striking him across his scarred cheek —hard enough to shock him but not leave a lasting mark, save for the one on his impression of you. The sound rings clear and loud in the stone chapel. “What was that for?” Madness flares in pale-blue eyes as he licks his lips.

“You presume too much, Ivarr,” you snap, eyes flaring with anger and ears burning. Ivarr laughs; the twisted sound reverberates through the still air of the church —not bad for a Saxon. Paying him no mind, you return to your prayers, hoping if you ignored him, he would leave. Ivarr doesn’t. He stays where he is, running a piece of whetstone down the edge of his axe. “Should you not be preparing your men for departure?” You ask, tired of hearing the shring of stone on metal over and over.

“Will you pray for me, princess?” Ivarr leans down —his face only inches from yours— and his fingers curling around a small braid in your hair adorned with silver thread.

You look up at him from under your lashes. “I pray for everyone, Ivarr” —it is your turn to smile, a small one that furrows Ivarr’s brows, his head tilting to the side— “even the wicked and damned.” He lets you be, his laugh echoing off the stone as he leaves to regroup with his brother.

THE WARBAND LEAVES at first light. It is the fifth time they have marched out since your arrival, and you hope it is the last —just as you hoped the previous times would be too. The Danes fight like devils, and the fyrd raised in your name do their best to hold their own against Aldfrith’s forces with each battle. Good people have died for this cause, and each life lost weighs heavily on your conscience. From the walls of Repton, you watch them filter from the gates and toward the north. Ubba glances to where you stand —a solemn lady in white— he nods his assurance this will be over soon, then swings himself onto the back of his spotted mare.

You cannot explain the fondness in your heart for Ivarr the Boneless, but the seeds are planted and have taken root in the weeks since he first decided to be a nuisance. He does not smile when he looks up at you, but his eyes do with the promise of battle. You lift your hand as to wave him off but think better of it. Ivarr tilts his head, lips twitching before he clicks his tongue, calming his anxious brown-and-white stallion and joining his brother at the head of the motley army.

The days grow longer and slower to pass when Repton empties, leaving only the wounded and a handful of women and children behind. A week passes before you hear horns in the distance. More people have returned than left —prisoners freed and sworn to fight. You wait by the gates to see the head of your vanguard return, nodding as he walks by, eager to rid himself of heavy armor, then Ubba passes, making way for Ivarr, trailing behind him.

“Princess,” Ivarr greets with a flourish, dropping something wrapped in bloody canvas by your feet, landing with a heavy thud, then the contents of the sack roll forth. You’ve barely stolen a glance when your eyes widen, throat constricting. “By God!” You exclaim, heart pounding as you scramble from the severed head, hand clutching your chest, stomach-churning. It is impossible not to stare at the mutilated and half-decayed head of Aldfrith. Ivarr gestures to the head, his lips curled in a twisted smile. “One way to make sure the bastard doesn’t hurt you again,” he tells you.

He is not wrong. Aldfrith will never raise a hand against you or another. You think you should feel happy, seeing his head like a prize, but there’s a hollowness in your chest at the manner in which it was done. You grip onto Ivarr’s arm, steadying yourself, feeling as though you will retch. “I” —you glance at him, voice shaking— “I do not know what to say.”

Ivarr’s brows furrow. His smile fading. He does not know what he expected your reaction to be, but he knows it is not this. “Thank you, Ivarr, would be a good starting point,” he remarks, mirth slipping into his tone. Shaking your head, stumble away from him, hand covering your mouth to stay the bile rising in your throat. “Princess?” Ivarr calls after you, not understanding why his gift had not made you happier.

“Well done,” Ubba remarks, bending to collect the mangled head and slapping his brother on the back. Ivarr glares at him. “If you wanted her favor,” he says, looking to the alcove between barrels next to the pigpen where you have gone to empty your stomach, “that was not the way to get it.”

THE EVENING IS filled with revelries —life is short and uncertain, and the Northmen insist upon celebrating even small victories. In the weeks since first arriving, their hedonistic ways have grown on you far more than you care to admit. They do not worship your God, but that alone is not enough to judge them harshly on. They are good people, equally as quick to laugh as they are to take up sword and axe to defend their own. While some have welcomed you by their fires late at night and others offered to share meals, most cast you aside, though you cannot fault them for it, for you had been equally reluctant to embrace them.

For now, you sit among several shieldmaidens sharing a meal with your vanguard. Across the open yard, you find Ivarr, leaned back against the great tree of Repton, his feet propped up on a crate —a cup of ale in hand. There’s a moment where you meet his pale blue eyes and smile. Ivarr’s lips kink upward, sending a streak of warmth through your innards that you blame on the ale. The shieldmaiden to your right nudges your ribs, seeing where your gaze lies —it’s enough to spur you to rise, despite the heat pooling in your cheeks. “Ivarr?” You ask, smoothing down your skirt. He looks up from his cup, scarred brow raised. “Would you walk with me?”

Ivarr throws back his cup of ale and rises, oddly silent, but you’ve learned the curious look in pale eyes well enough. He follows you, away from the feast and through the church to the rolling hills surrounding Repton to the south. The silent comfort of his presence next to you gives you time to think of what you wish to say to him. It is a clear night, with a thousand stars above and a nigh full moon shining silver on the greenery. You look to Ivarr, eyes flitting across his face —following the scar on his cheek. “I should not have been so hasty with my ingratitude,” you confess.

You pace around, rubbing your hands together out of anxiousness. “I know I am not a warrior,” you smile, glancing up at the night sky —remembering your father’s lessons from childhood. About how it was better to fight a battle in your mind long before soldiers ever marched onto the field and strong friends could make all the difference for the prosperity of your land and people. Until now, those lessons kept you out of conflict and guided your hand in all political affairs. “There are more ways to fight battles than with swords and brawn. I learned that at a young age.”

Calloused fingers curls around your wrist. Ivarr pulls on your arm, turning you to face him. There’s a strange look in eyes —something oddly kind, bordering on admiration. He lets go of your wrist and lifts his hand, the backs of his fingers brushing against your cheek. When you do not shy away, his lips tug upward. “There is more to you than a pretty face, princess.” He steps closer.

“Ivarr?” His name is a faint whisper on your lips, and then he is leaning toward you, almost unwittingly. Your instinct is to push him away —your god-fearing heart and mind say you should feel repulsed— but you lean into him, hands moving to his shoulders then around to the nape of his neck. It feels right and good, and if you must burn in hell for this sin, you think you would gladly march into the flames to have his kiss again. Ivarr smiles against your lips, grip tightening on your waist. His groan is almost pained when you pull back, eyes wide and cheeks burning.

“I know who you are, Ivarr” —he keeps still when you rest your hand on his scarred cheek, watching intently, nigh holding his breath as you trace a line from his forehead to his jaw, hand dropping to run across the front of his chest— “and I would not ask you, nor anyone, to change their true selves.” He tilts his head to the side, ashen brown hair falling in from of his eyes.

The weeks he has known you have only made you more of an enigma to him. You follow the outline of the dark tattoo on his chest revealed by the dip in his tunic. It is Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse. “Perhaps at first, I was frightened, unsure, but no longer,” you whisper, leaning toward him. You press a kiss to the corner of his thin lips. “I do not think you will hurt me.” Admitting it makes you feel foolish. He is Ivarr the Boneless, Ivarr the Kingkiller —tenderness is not in his nature.

Rough fingers ghost over your cheek, then back into your hair. “I don’t want to hurt you, princess,” he admits. You can tell it is not easy for him to say such a thing, but he means it in full. Ivarr searches your expression, finding no fear or regret, only a soft smile playing at your lips. He surges forward, eager to steal the breath from your lungs and swallow the small, startled gasp you make. Ivarr’s hand slips from your hair, cradling your neck, thumb pressed against your jaw. Sighing into his kiss, you let him pull you closer and to the grass-covered ground. You lift your skirt, straddling his thighs —heart hammering in your chest. “You want to be mine?” Ivarr asks, giddy.

“I think I already am,” you smile, though it turns into a startled gasp when Ivarr rolls you off of him, laying you back into the soft gross, and quickly settles above you, nestled between your legs. He holds his weight on bent forearms and searches your expression, finding nothing but curious acceptance. Ivarr’s arms slide on the dew-slick grass, lowering himself until your lips meet again under the silver Mercian moon.

THE LOW CRY of a war horn breaks the lingering stillness of the early morning —its echo comes from the shadowed North; dread pools in the depths of your stomach. Everyone had misjudged the threat, even you, thinking there would be extra time to prepare and march out to select the time and place to battle against Aldfrith's remaining forces. But now that advantage is stripped from yours and the Ragnarssons’ army. You fumble with the laces of your shift and scarlet kirtle, stumbling from your tent as a startled doe, watching as both Northmen and Saxons gather up swords, axes, and shields —straightening their leathern armor. Above the madness, you can hear Ubba shouting commands, the warriors falling into line as they move toward the gates.

Ivarr finds you in the chaos and presses a dagger in your hand, curling your fingers around the leather-wrapped hilt. “Stick them in the soft bits,” he tells you, the mirth in his tone not reflected in his pale eyes, “if it comes to that.” You pray to God it will not, but nod. He steps back, but you reach for him, fingers curling around the leather strap across his chest. You hold him there, eyes flitting over his face —following the deep scar running down his cheek— until another blast of the war horn sounds in the deep. Ivarr covers your hand for a fleeting second before stepping back again. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you release him, letting him answer the call of war.

As with all battles, you seek penitence and pray for mercy on the souls fighting in your name, kneeling before the cross and the statue of Mother Mary in the Repton church. Two members of your vanguard remain, keeping chary vigilance over you should the lines break. You pray, for your people, for those who fall, and for Ivarr’s safe return —uncertain if God will extend his protection to a heathen. When you glance up, the statue is weeping tears of blood.

Everything falls still and silent —the calm is broken soon after by the sound of swords being unsheathed. You take a slow breath, fingers curling around the hilt of the dagger Ivarr gave you. Rising, you turn, finding your vanguard standing on guard, facing down the bitter brother of Aldfrith, leader of the forces warring with your and the Ragnarssons’ army. “Run!” They shout, advancing. Heeding their warning, you flee from the church and into the darkness of the crypts —crouching behind the sarcophagus of a Mercian king.

Torchlight dances in the darkness, Aldfrith’s brother limps forward, favoring his right side. You sink further into the shadows, covering your mouth with one hand, holding tight to the dagger with the other. He passes by your hiding place, moving toward the far end of the crypt.

Taking the opening, you dart forward, running for the sliver of daylight at the stairs leading from the depths. You move too slow or are too ignorant of your surroundings because, in a single breath, Aldfrith’s brother is standing before you. The pain is almost nonexistent, at first, but then he twists the blade, and streaks of white-hot pain emanate from your stomach. “For my brother,” he hisses, pulling back the bloody dagger.

You stumble back but find your balance through the pain and surge forward with a sharp cry, plunging the dagger still held your grasp deep into his neck, then pull it free in a spray of hot blood. His hand goes to his neck, but it is too late. He will die before you. Doubling over, you press your hand against your middle and move toward the light in a trance.

The call of the war horn is faint in the darkness below the Repton church —you know its cry as one of victory. Rising, you press your hand against your side, asking the Lord for the strength to press on, to see those who had devoted their purpose to your cause a final time. He grants you this last mercy, and you stumble up the stairs out of the crypts, leaving a trail of red in your wake. You stand in the open entrance to the chapel, swaying on your feet, smiling at the sight before you. Ubba and Ivarr lead the victorious army marching back. Few are lost —though you fear you will become one of them.

With each step closer, Ivarr knows something is wrong. You do not smile, and a sickly pallor has come over your skin —he darts forward, ahead of his brother, brows settling in a deep furrow, feeling as though time is against him. “Princess?” He asks, red-stained hands cupping your cheeks. You mean to sigh in relief, knowing he is safe, but it comes as bile and blood-filled cough trickling from your parted lips. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head as he pulls away from your bloody hand, eyes flitting to the growing stain blossoming on your dress.

The strength given to you ebbs, but Ivarr catches you, holding you in his arms as he eases you both to the stone floor. “Ivarr,” you breathe, lifting your hand to his cheek, a weak smile on your lips. “Ivarr.” He swallows the lump in his throat when your arm goes limp, falling back to your side, and your eyes slip shut under the weight and pain.

His hand twists into the damp fabric of your dress. “Find who did this!” Ivarr shouts, the rage of the gods burning in his veins. There is only one way to see justice done for the heinous deed. Soldiers disperse among the parish and the countryside, searching. Ubba kneels, his fingers finding a spot against your neck —he glances up at his brother, eyes wide, and gives a slight nod. You are not lost to him yet. There is still hope, even if it is a fool's hope.

PAIN, DULL BUT constant wakes you from what feels like an endless slumber —you are certain you are dead, having pulled the dagger from your side and collapsed in Ivarr’s arms. Yet when you blink, it is not pearl gates nor streets of gold with which you are met. Ubba Ragnarsson sits at your bedside, his face held in his hands. His expression brightens when he finds you awake and staring at him. “Gave us quite the scare, princess,” he remarks, offering a cup of weak ale —you wouldn’t be able to stomach anything else yet. You drink slowly, and Ubba can already see the question on your lips when you lower the cup.

He motions over his shoulder to where his brother is leaning against a stool, slumped over, asleep. Ivarr had scarcely slept in the last week, but with the promise that Ubba would watch for you to wake, he agreed to sleep —it took him quickly. “He’s not left your side,” he notes, then leans closer, as to whisper a secret, “I do not know what spell you have cast upon my brother but thank you.” You want to laugh, but the discomfort in your side stops you, hand moving to rest atop the bandages. “You will heal faster now,” he says, echoing the healer’s words. Ubba glances back to Ivarr, then rests his hand on your shoulder as he rises from the stool. “Know you are always welcome here, princess.”

You grip onto his arm before he can move or say anything else, knowing he means to wake his brother before going. “Let him rest,” you say, smiling, knowing it will not be much longer before you succumb to sleep again as well. Ubba nods then takes leave. The next time you wake, Ivarr is sitting where Ubba had been —bent over, arms resting on his knees, head hanging low with his ashen-brown hair falling before half his face. The sight of him makes your heart beat faster —like a foolish little girl with a crush, but by now, you know what you feel for Ivarr is more than churlish infatuation.

“Ivarr,” you breathe, reaching for him —fingers brushing over his scarred cheek. He jolts at the touch, pale-blue eyes wide and lips parted as he beholds your smile. He isn’t sure what to say or do, so he stares, feeling waves of relief wash over him like a rocky shore in a storm. Ivarr moves closer, his hand twisting into the coarse wool blanket draped over you. “My sweet Ivarr,” you muse, smile widening.

His brows furrow, lips tugging upward as he laughs, shaking his head. “Sweet?” He challenges. Ivarr the Boneless has been called many things in his long years, but sweet has never been one of them.

Ivarr is not all brash cruelty. Beneath his harsh exterior is a man with honest feeling, and you are perhaps the first to discover that, but you know it to be true. Sweet, you think, recalling the times you woke to a bundle of wildflowers at the entrance to your tent, or the nights when you could find no rest and found solace in his company —speaking of the past, of fate, and his gods. In the silence, he leans toward you, rough fingertips brushing the hair from your face, then without a word, you both move —chasing away what space remains between your lips. His kiss is soft, surprisingly so, but the heat and ferocity are still there. “You have your moments,” you tell him, breathless.

THE VANGUARD ESCORTS you from the camp to a neighboring hillock. With the last battle won, now nothing stood between you and your lands and title. Ubbe is waiting in the light of the setting sun, his hands clasped behind him as he looks appreciatively over the lush and fertile hills of your homeland. It is no small wonder some of his people had chosen this place to settle and farm. You call to him, and he turns, greeting you with a nod, watching as you limp to his side —the wound grieving you not yet healed. But that you live is nothing short of a miracle itself. Ubba knows as well as any other that injuries to the gut are nigh always fatal, and yet your stand at his side, smiling —able to return home without fear. “This land,” he sighs, “it is yours once more.”

“You’ve upheld your part of this bargain, and now I shall uphold mine,” you note, turning from the vista over your small kingdom to Ubba. “What would you ask of me in return?”

He rests a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Your friendship and an alliance,” Ubba answers; neither of his requests are surprising. You’ve found unlikely friends among Ubba and his people in the months since this arduous campaign began and would be happy to answer his call for aid should it ever arise. But it is not a simple alliance that is in the forefront of Ubba’s mind after the conversations he’s had with his brother. “But there are many ways to forge a lasting alliance.” You lift a brow, questioning what it is he means by that. “Do you care for my brother?”

It’s a simple question, but somehow it knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you staring in shock. Ivarr. “I” —Ubba smiles, already knowing your answer even if it takes a moment for you to say it yourself. He’s seen the impact your presence has had on his brother, has witnessed the impossible. You draw in a slow breath, unable to claim indifference toward Ivarr the Boneless after everything— “yes.”

Ubba's smile grows as he laughs. “Finally,” he rejoices, “someone to help tame the wildness in him.” You do not think anyone, not even the gods, could ever tame Ivarr the Boneless. He squeezes your shoulder and nods as though thanking you before leaving, motioning for the vanguard to follow.

Alone, you heave a great sigh, a great wave of relief and disbelief crashing over you. The crisp autumn air smells sweet as ever, with the hills and leaves turning gold. Behind you is the rustle of fabric and crunch of dried grass and gravel. “Princess?” It’s Ivarr. You turn to greet him, smiling. He shifts on his feet, shrugging, then holds out his arms. It’s odd to see him like this, nigh vulnerable —without his armor and only a single throwing axe hooked on his belt. “Here I am,” Ivarr says, “offering myself up.” You step to him. “A lamb for slaughter,” he adds with a dry chuckle, an afterthought.

“Shut up,” you laugh, pulling him to you by the ties of his tunic. His arms snake around your waist, drawing you close. You look up at him, waiting, expectantly, when you lace your fingers together at the nape of his neck. Ivarr rolls his eyes, seemingly exasperated he leans into you, placing his lips upon yours. He parts your lips with his own, finding your tongue there, eager but soft, melding against his own.

The kiss ends too quickly —Ivarr parts with a low groan from deep in his throat. His arms loosen, mindful of your wound, and slip to rest on your hips. The mirth in his eyes and smile is back as he considers what it means now that you have reclaimed your lands. “This makes me a prince now, yes?” Ivarr asks, amused.

You ponder his question for a moment, sliding your hands across his shoulders and down his chest. These lands are yours now, and you are their sole sovereign —that makes you a queen. Tilting your chin up, you smile. “King,” you amend, kissing him, so softly and so sweetly that Ivarr the Boneless decides he would give up almost everything if it meant being able to keep his princess.

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belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years ago

Note

love Dad!Lucifer can you do a Pt 3 please

Did You See The Lions (Dad!Lucifer Pt 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 Word Count : 2.5K Warnings : pregnancy; maternity; children; babies; violence; dad!fic; angst

@sucker-for-angst-and-fluff Here’s part three! 💗

The door to your room was thrown open and his heart sank when he saw your bed empty, the sheets tossed aside carelessly and dropped to the floor. Not only was your bed empty, but your son's crib was the exact same way. Beel walked over, his entire body was trembling with rage as he felt the warmth of your body that still lingered on the sheets. Lucifer knew exactly what he was doing when he called him down, he was keeping the two of you apart so he could take you away, so he could take the baby away. He rarely ever lost his temper, he knew the damage that he could do, so he tried to keep his temper under control whenever he could, but it seemed impossible to do that now. He stormed back down the stairs, practically ripping the door to Lucifer’s office off the hinges, already in his demon form. “Where are they?” Beel growled, his veins in his hands popping out from how tightly he had been clenching his fists. He didn’t just want to fight Lucifer, he wanted to rip him apart, tear him limb from limb. Lucifer only laughed though, placing his phone to the side as he looked up at his little brother. “It’s not funny… Tell me where they are!” He shouted, and while most of the other brother’s would be shocked to hear him this way, Lucifer had been ready for it, expecting it, even hoping for it. “Is it not?” He laughed again, leaning back in his chair as if his brother weren’t on the verge of lunging at him right now. He knew that Beel wouldn’t though, not until he found out where you and the baby were, and even then, he wouldn’t be able to do anything because Lucifer was the only one who could take him back to you. “You think I’d actually let you keep your little ready made family when they’re rightfully mine? Surely you don’t take me as a fool, Beelzebub.” His words only had Beel growling loudly, his teeth barred as watched the oldest who looked way too smug about this entire thing. “Oh, calm down. I think what you need is some time apart. You won’t miss much… or maybe you’ll miss the whole thing… I’m not very sure. Tell me though, why are you so angry?” Lucifer knew exactly why Beel was angry, he just wanted to hear it from his brother's own lips. He had felt it when you came in to give him that ridiculous birthday card, he could see it in the small glow that was starting to show, a glow that he remembers all too well from a year ago. “You didn’t want them.” Beel hissed, taking a step forward. “You don’t get to decide a year later that you do. It’s not fair to them.” It’s not fair to him either, but this wasn’t just about him, this was about everyone involved. “On the contrary, I do get to decide. That’s my family, and just because you decided to fill her womb with your own little… mutt… that doesn’t mean that you get to have her, or my son. She was, and always will be mine first and foremost.” Lucifer sneered, drumming his fingers on his desk as Beel reached his breaking point. Beel charged at the desk, throwing it to the side as he grabbed Lucifer by the throat, lifting him up in the air. Lucifer never changed though, he kept that same smug smile, knowing that he had the upper hand. “What are you going to do? Kill me? You’ll never see her, my son, or your own child if you do that… and you know it.” Those words had Beel dropping Lucifer to the floor, taking a step back. He needed to see you, he needed to bring you back, and Lucifer was the only one who knew where you were… Lucifer and the demon that he had take you and the baby away. “Don’t… Don’t ever call my child a mutt…” His nostrils flared, his fingers twitching, aching the wrap around Lucifer’s throat for insulting his own child, for everything that he did. “Where are they? Tell me now.”

You woke up in your bed, your old bed, in your old room. Your son was laid in your arms, still sleeping peacefully nestled against your chest. You didn’t remember anyone coming into your room in the Devildom, and honestly, the last thing you remembered from being down there was trying to stop Beel from going to Lucifer. “Beel…” You whispered his name, carefully pulling your arm from underneath your son’s head and sitting up, looking around your room for any sign that would indicate that he was here with you, but deep down you knew he wasn’t. Your emotions were running high, rushing through you as you tried to figure out what to do. Was there anything that you could do? There was no way that you’d be able to get back down to the Devildom by yourself, you didn’t have the power to do it, you only knew of two or three demons who were capable of doing it. You had to try to stay calm, for the sake of your son, and for the health of Beel’s child that you were now carrying. “Mama?” Your son’s voice almost had you on the verge of tears though. He didn’t know what was going on, and when you looked down at him you saw just how confused he really was. He looked around the room, his little eyebrows knitted together as he tried to understand where he was, but everything was so unfamiliar, it even felt that way to you. “I know…” You whispered, pulling him up onto your lap and cradling him against your chest with one hand as you reached into your pocket. It was empty, you didn’t even have your phone to try to text Beel to let him know that you and your son were okay, and you could only imagine how worried he was. You couldn’t think too hard about it, you had to try to smile, make things seem as normal as possible for your son. You didn’t want him to worry. “It’s alright. How about some breakfast for my little guy, huh?” The nickname had your son’s eyes lighting up as he squirmed and struggled to get out of your arms, climbing out of your bed and looking around the room. “Dada? Where Dada, Mama?” He turned to look at you, his bottom lip jutted out when he couldn’t find him. It broke your heart to see him like this, but it angered you so much more. Lucifer was heartless and cold. He didn’t give a damn about your son. Everything that he did was for himself, that’s how he always was and how he always will be. You quickly got out of your bed, scooping your son up in your arms and holding him tight against you to try to calm him. “Ahh, you know… Mama wanted to take you back to her house. We can go to the zoo… see the lions. You wanna see the lions?” Thankfully for you, your son's attention span wasn’t great yet, so the single mention of actually seeing a lion had his mind off of Beel, at least for the moment. He nodded enthusiastically, clapping his hands together as you walked him out of your room. You had to hold it together and just hope that Beel would figure something out soon.

He hadn’t thought of anything though, he was at a loss. Lucifer wouldn’t send him to you willingly, he knew that much. Diavolo wouldn’t send him to you without checking in with Lucifer first, so there was no hope there either. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know who to go to. Barbatos wouldn’t go against the wishes of his Lord, so even bothering to ask the Butler was a waste of time. “You could always tie him up and torture him until he gives in.” Belphie suggested, mumbling against his pillow as Beel paced the attic. He didn’t want to actually hurt his oldest brother though, he wasn’t like that. “No… I just need to find a way to get her and the baby back here.” Beel said, finally falling forward onto the edge of the bed. “Or maybe… maybe I can stay up there with her. Lucifer wouldn’t be able to do anything then.” He perked up at the idea of it, smiling up to Belphie who was already shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous, Beel. First off, the kid is half demon, and not to mention how dangerous it’ll be for her to deliver your half demon kid in the human realm. She could die. Her and those kids need to be back here, and you need to handle Lucifer.” He dropped his face back into the pillow, pushing Beel off the bed with his feet. “So go handle it.” Beel knew that Belphie was right, there was no way it would work out. He needed to get you back, back home with him, where you and the kids belonged. Lucifer stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as if nothing had happened. He knew that Beel was there, he could sense the anger and irritation radiating off of his brother, but it didn’t bother him, it didn’t faze him at all. “Beelzebub. Would you like a cup of coffee?” He asked nonchalantly, holding up the pot as he finally turned to look at him. Beel walked over, grabbing the pot from his brother and sliding it back into the base before leaning against the counter, cornering Lucifer where he stood. “I want you to bring them back. They need to come back.” He was trying to stay calm, he was doing his best, but even being around Lucifer had his nerves on end. “She can’t be up there… Neither can your son.” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at the way Beel said it, finally pushing his brother back. “You don’t know what’s good for my son.” Lucifer spit the words as he stood tall enough to meet the eyes of Beel, his breath was hot and heavy against his brother's face, not even trying to control his anger. “I’ve had quite enough of you parading around with my child and the mother of my child as if they’re your own. Then you have the nerve to come at me about keeping them away from a thief like you. It’d be comical if I wasn’t the one dealing with it.” He continued to push Beel back, not caring anymore how pissed off Beel was getting. “I have every right to keep my child away from you, and I don’t care that she’s carrying your spawn, I could easily have that taken care of as well. They’re not yours.” He moved to brush past his brother, but at this point Beel had practically blacked out with rage, grabbing Lucifer by the throat and throwing him down on the kitchen counter, pinning him down as he towered over his older brother. “You won’t touch her… You won’t go anywhere near her. You don’t deserve her or the kid. You’re worthless and pathetic and I swear to Lord Diavolo if I ever see you near her I’ll rip you apart. I’ll kill you.” His words were growled out through his teeth as his fingers tightened around Lucifer’s neck, wanting so badly to kill him then, and he would have, he really would have, if his brothers hadn’t come to see what the commotion was about, all of them pulling Beel away from Lucifer and holding him back. Lucifer was seething as he got up, brushing himself off and trying to keep his composure around his brothers, but all of them could see that he was just as close as Beel was to losing it. “I’m going to my office.” He muttered, his head held high as he walked away. Beel had finally calmed down enough for his brothers to let him go, finally breaking down and dropping to the floor as the tears fell.

“Mama… Too bright…” Your son whined, shielding his eyes with his arm as you both walked through the zoo. Neither of you had been able to enjoy anything because neither of you could see. The sun seemed brighter than you had remembered after becoming accustomed to the darkness of the Devildom. “I know… You wanna go back home?” You asked, looking down at him and he quickly nodded in response, turning around and tugging at your hand, trying to pull you through the crowds of people. “What’s wrong, buddy?” You asked when he stopped, pulling his hand out of yours as he started running as fast as his little legs could carry him. “Wait! Wait for me!” You called out to him, giving the people around you an apologetic smile as you chased after him. “Dada!” He said excitedly, and for a second your heart froze. Lucifer had come to find you, and you could only imagine what he wanted now. He had already done enough damage, the only other thing he could do to hurt you was keep you in the human realm and take your son back with him. “Hey, Little Guy!” The voice made your head whip up so fast, and you felt like you could cry when you saw him standing there. Beel scooped your son up, putting him up on his shoulders as he looked down at you, his eyes glossy with tears that threatened to spill over. “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have left you alone… I shouldn’t have-” You didn’t let him finish his sentence, you were just so happy to see him. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, burying your face in his chest as your own tears began to fall. “Hey… Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now… And did you hear him? He called me Dada.” You looked up at him, a small laugh escaping you as you wiped your tears. “Yeah… Yeah he did.” Lucifer wouldn’t be happy about it, you knew that much, and Beel knew it too, but you it just goes to show how little time Lucifer actually spent with his own son. “How did you get up here? How did you find us here?” Would Lucifer actually let Beel come see you? You weren’t banking on it, and you didn’t know how Beel would have come up any other way, unless Lord Diavolo decided to let him. “Don’t worry about the first part. I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right?” Beel sighed softly, shaking his head before looking up at your son and then back down at you. “As for the last question… I know my little guy and lions. I just had to find the nearest zoo.” He shifted your son on his hip before wrapping his arm around your waist and leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “So… did you see the lions yet?”

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jeeperso · 2 years ago

Text

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft edition, Har-Akir arc, part 3

"Well, off to go tomb raiding once more. Let's hope the traps weren't made by a sadist.” “Oh, Nyx. You sweet summer child.”

"The local monsters no better than to attack a Vistani caravan, but we'll be on our own.” “We can make a few examples. They’ll learn about us fast. Just remember to leave a survivor.”

"At least it isn't vorpal rabbits. Stupid idiot just had to use magic to crossbreed rabbits with wolves.” “And that's what hand held explosives are for.”

"Suffer not The Love Guru to live…"

"Fear not children, hope has arrived! Why? Because WE ARE HERE!”

GM: The ogres are now moving in slow motion. OOC: BGM All-Star at .05 speed.

GM: Actually wait not. You catch the guy int he knee. He starts screaming. Edmund: "Ill fix that! I'm a doctor!” Jonni: “Stop crying! We’re rescuing you!”

Poom shoots the non-groveling one with a ray made of clocks. Nyx: ”Ewww, Poom, did you have to rot the ogre? Couldn't you have done some other form of damage so it doesn't explode in a shower of guts when that damaged?” Edmund: ”Apparently Ogres become more juicy with age.... “ Poom: "Only if you store it wrong.”

Jonni stands in mid air. “Here! Let me show you a big … bang… kind of atta… fuck it, fireball!”

“I AM THE GODDES OF HELLFIRE AND MOLASSES! AND I BRING YOU THE GIFT… OF FIRE!”

Gorbash: “It's Ogres, My Great Uncle always said they're often too stupid to realize they're already dead.” Jonni: “They are. Torm the Almost Unbeatable was nearly killed when one kicked him after he cut its head off. That was a good solstice festival.”

“I’d say you can take a bite out of them, but Ogres taste like crap.” Poom: "You have to pickle them first.”

"Easy now... Let me look you over... I think. You have an arrow to the knee.”

Azathoth: "Giant rubies are never a good thing.”

OOC: Oh, shit, it’s Akio Ohtori! Don’t get in any cars with him!

OOC: Put some sand in there. Maybe a helmet made from a skull.

“I, sir, am a Paladin. It is my sworn duty to keep the innocent from harm.” “He is. Trust me. It’s almost gotten us killed.” “Please, all of our virtues or vices have nearly gotten us killed at some point.”

The circus tent that walks like a man's heavy iron tread echoes through the halls.

Edmund: ”Which... might be quite..... Deadly. Assassins are rather known for it. “ Jonni: “I mean, so am I.”

OOC: DREAM WARRIORS ASSEMBLE!

The streets are empty, the buildings are basically empty shells like the set of a stage play. “Is there still booze?”

As you look around, you hear singing in the distance, along with the dragging of something. “Yeah, yeah, creepy dream demon 101.”

"Mouth eyes, cute. I've seen worse in my own nightmares.”

The ruby is gone, in its place is a deck of cards. Gorbash slaps Eddie's hand instinctively.

Poom: "I'm not sure I dream any more so much as have 'enforced family time’."

"Are you guys still in town? What happened?” “Minor delay, unrelated cursed nightmare shit. Nothing you need worry about.” "Right yeah, I forgot you guys are addicted to the side quests. Alright carry on.” “Yeah having a functioning conscience can be inconvenient.”

Jonni: “I think I can see the curvature of time, guys.”

Jonni flies back and does her sexy Identify dance on the wagon.

"DOG! I HAVE BEEN IMPRISONED IN THIS ACCURSED BOTTLE FOR 500 YEARS, I VOWED TO SLAY THE FIRST LIVING BEINGS I SAW WHEN I EXITED AND THAT SHALL BE YOUuuuu…" He lowers his scimiter and looks at Jonni. Then at her bottle. Then he quickly bows.

"I am the duke of boiling rage, hurler of 10,000 curses, collector of 10,00 skulls, who has brought low everyone who has insulted me.” "Your haircut is very fancy!” "Thank you.”

SANDSTORM! OOC: I had that book.

OOC: No fair! I’m using Mon-Ra in Spelljammer! Their the unholy spawn of Mum-Ra and Mon-Starr.

Jonni: “Their last name is ‘Golzana?’ I could have been making fun of that this whole time?!?”

OOC: FUCK THAT! JONNI NEEDS HER EYES FOR LOOKING AT TITTIES!

OOC: Also, bold of you to assume Jonni’s cylindrical shaped vessel has been a bottle.

“Mistress, can I chop this ones hands off? He wont leave my flask alone.” "No. I need my hands. For Reasons!”

Jonni: “Efreet don’t get powers from bottles. They only get into them at all for weird sex stuff.”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft #har-akir #sandman #special guest villain #the corininthian

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hezuart · 3 years ago

Note

That anaversary aizen looks absolutely fabulous, he looks like a figure skater xd.

I heard along time ago the last arc of the anime was being animated finally bc they pulled a 90s sailor moon were the last season was not either animated or dubbed untill decades later.

I recall near the end of the current 366 episodes there was an episode were the creapy demon ppl woke up in hell and we're all bitter, and there was the other guy who was like, iM cOmEiNg FoR u IChIgO, but then is never mentioned again after and I'm like,why? Why is lt there just plopted randomly into a different arc that seams unrelated.

And locking aizen up underground seems ok, but It deff won't hold, and he will. Escape, and he will kill, you either need that one spell from star, dubbed, the darkest spell of moon the undaunted, a powerfull dark spell that killed immortal beings, that came from best character, eclipsa, the queen of darkness.

We need that.

Or stick him I'm crystal like eclipsa was in star. Is there no one who could trap him in ice or crystal for all eternity.

How about throw him into the centre of a volcano trapped and caged , forverr being killed by heat?

I assume there's space travel, send I'm into a black whole, were a black whole don't fuckin care if your immortal or fat, you will die

Yes, I love anniversary Aizen. His original octopus-butterfly hollow design was ugly so I'm glad he's back to being the fashion icon he is.

Locking Aizen up underground once is one thing, doing it twice after saying he got more powerful by just sitting there, and he escaped to battle the Quincy Soul King God... is another. I think he should have escaped at the end of the Quincy arc. That is the only feasibility.

I heard the anime is coming back for the Quincy arc as well, but because of COVID its probably going to be delayed. (I'm not gonna watch it until the Rain section of the arc then I'm dipping out. I'm only here for Zangetsu)

and funny that you mention that hell scene in the manga :)

-> spoilers for the new BLEACH 73 page anniversary chapter / thoughts/critique on it

So hey you had a premonition! Syazel .... returned? And his hole is outside of his body??? for some reason???

(I didn't understand the explanation or why / how that happens and what that means for the hollow)

And my friend and I were laughing because out of ALL the things. Kubo could do in this anniversary. He gave Syazel his dick back after going to hell. That is iconic. (that's where his hole was located, and now that its not on his body ... well...) This is the funniest thing Kubo has EVER pulled. Kudos to you, sir.

The entire internet is freaking out over Ukitake being in hell. Honestly Kubo has done far worse, and we've established that Soul Society is a corrupt system that hasn't changed, so I'm not surprised he would pull something like this.

At the same time, Kubo 1. cheated his audience. 2. continues to prove me right that he cannot bring himself to kill his characters

1. Hollows who have commit murder in their human life are sent to hell. Syazel and Aaorniero are two of these hollows, and yet, when they are killed, there is NO gates of hell scene. We see them there later in the hell chapter (which was more of a promotion for the fourth movie and I didn't believe it would hold any merit)

But the same goes for Ukitake. We never see the gates of hell take him. What, was hell late? Did hell's gates get lost like an uber before picking him up? It's bull. Withholding such vital information from your audience, not showing the gates of hell when they should pick up this soul IMMEDIATELY is ... I mean its a lie. Kubo lied to his audience.

2. Now we are told powerful shinigami are sent to hell when they die. First of all that sounds like a security threat. Wouldn't shinigami want revenge for that? Or attempt to escape? Why would they still hold loyalty after being sent to a prison of eternal suffering?

Also "Yhwach and Aizen" were the only ones keeping Hell's gates closed is way too convenient and doesn't really make any sense. I feel like Aizen should have deliberately gone to hell to retrieve powerful shinigami / hollows for his army instead of keeping it /closed/.

This is definitely a Kubo-doesn't-know-what-he's-doing-and-is -making- stuff-up-as-he-goes, but it might have a pinch of merit because of previous plot lines.... but either way, there's some big plot holes here, but again, its Kubo, so I expected nothing less.

Again, he can't kill off his characters. He introduced zombification, he introduced immortality through the hougyoku, he has Orihime and Hachigen's reversal / rejection abilities. He brought back Luppi, friggen.... a character who's entire upper half of his body was incinerated. Like.... come on. No. He's dead, you can't bring him back like that. That's a cop out and just weird. You're taking away consequences and grief.

(Also Yamamoto and Unohana deserve to be in hell far over Ukitake, they've done some fcked up stuff in their pasts unlike him)

Also Kubo's favorite character is Mayuri, which.... you're allowed to have a favorite problematic character. But Keeping said character alive and bared from the consequences of abusing his daughter, murdering innocents, and experimenting on your own squad members? Nah. Nope. Kill him, Kubo. Kill this dude.

(his weird attachment to Mayuri is probably why he keeps bringing Syazel back, since Syazel is Mayuri 2.0, but Syazel is the bad guy who does face consequences for his actions while Mayuri is not)

Also, I'm certain Kazui and Orihime are going to be THRILLED that their precious husband/dad is going to hell when he dies :)

(I just... Rukia teased Ichigo about leaving Orihime at home. She teased him about having a house wife who he leaves all the chores to. Orihime had two panels. She checks on her son who promised he would be at home and sleep. Kazui fcking breaks his promise like it never mattered to him and JUMPS out the window after pretending to sleep in front of his mother. ... An 8 year old... alone... in the middle of the night.)

Orihime is abandoned. She is not invited to SS, she is not informed of what is going on, her son leaves her.... I...

Orihime is a side character. She doesn't matter anymore. She hasn't mattered for a long, long time.

A part of me is glad she had little screen time, since she tends to waste it, but another part of me is embroiled with rage.

I've even see people try to defend this. "Orihime and Ichigo can't be together ALL the time, that's an unhealthy relationship!" and I'm like guys... that's not the point. The point is Orihime is not part of Ichigo's other life. Any shinigami stuff from now on is none of her business. She's going to stay at home while Kazui and Ichigo go off and save the world. Ichigo is going to be fighting by Rukia and Renji while Orihime watches from the sidelines, or worse, doesn't even know what is going on with her husband and son. Orihime is going to be uninformed and abandoned, because she has not proven she is capable of fighting by their sides(go on, @ me. I will fight this. She's a failure.), and also because she prefers a human life over a dead one. Which is ironic, because she married a dead man. Ichigo is a shinigami, and he will be one forever. god forbid she ever meets his Zanpaktou. She would tremble in fear at the monsters her husband harbors in his soul, especially when she realizes they don't care about her and would rather see her dead. (Zangetsu would absolutely kill Orihime. Not sure about Kazui, but Orihime has not accepted Zangetsu, she does not like either of them, and the feeling is assuredly mutual.) frick now I want to make a comic about this

Also still frustrated over Zangetsu's shikai / bankai regression. Kubo once again lied to his audience. Ichigo has no bankai. How ridiculous is that? The main character of BLEACH doesn't have a bankai. Insulting.

(RIP to Chad. He doesn't exist anymore. He's just gone. No mention, no cameo. Gone.)

Kazui is a demon child. That character from the novels? Hikone? They're the same character. Literally same personality, same power level. Its worse because Kazui is a liar. He constantly goes behind his parents' backs. He can summon creepy fish and creepy eyeballs and open portals like is ANYONE aware of this? How has SS not kidnapped Ichigo's son and experimented on him / locked away his powers yet? All substitute shinigami require a reiatsu controlling / spy badge to keep them in line. Where is Kazui's? Or is he just a weird fullbringer?

I was worried Kubo was gonna try and pull a knock off Boruto but luckily he kept the focus on Ichigo and the others. But that being said, Ichika and Kazui are now just... sort of there? Kazui was kinda just.... having his own adventure that doesn't matter to the plot at hand, and Ichika had some nice characterization at first but she just hid behind her dad the whole time.

I have a feeling Kazui is gonna step in at the last minute or do some major behind the scenes thing that indirectly interferes with the main plot so no one will realize how powerful and dangerous he actually is. Its sad because Ichika is the superior character in personality and likability, but she clearly is not going to have a bigger part in this.

Ichigo having a normal life after everything still feels extremely boring and uncomfortable to me. Everyone's like 'I'm still bLEACH!" but.... BLEACH just... doesn't feel like BLEACH anymore. It hasn't for a while now.

~~~

There's two new shinigami characters. Didn't care for the girl, but the Sign Language kid who talks to animals is adorable ... however... he just reminds me of Chad, and I just... it hurts knowing Chad has essentially been deleted. Chad and Orihime are officially benched. They have chosen the human world, and Orihime has given Ichigo his spawn so she has no more use/purpose to him anymore... ////sigh

~~~

Also. This is claimed to be a new "arc". So is the BLEACH manga coming back? What is happening. I thought Kubo was tired and didn't want to do BLEACH anymore. I thought Shounen Jump cut him off. People made so many excuses for Kubo and why the past two arcs have been so badly written the past 6 years and now almost everything they've attempted to defend him with has been revoked.

BLEACH is going to continue to screw up its plot lines and characters, so Its probably best for it to stay dead but I've seen a lot of Kubo stans drooling over this content, they're desperate for BLEACH's return, but its already given out all its possible revelations. There's really nothing else to top here. It's just going to make things up as it goes along ,and I'm not really here for half-assed writing like that, especially since the damage of rushing the previous manga has already been done. Kubo and Shounen Jump are riding off a money nostalgia. None of this was planned.

Honestly though.... overall feeling of this chapter, not as bad as it could have been.

Syazel stole the spotlight, and he's my friend's favorite character, so that's all that really matters.

#bleach #bleach spoilers #spoilers #text post #anti bleach 686 #anti ichihime #ask #tite kubo #technically anti renruki too but #ichihime destroys the plot more than renruki #renruki feels like an after thought #they're only together for kazui and ichika's existence #but if these two are lacking in use if BLEACH were to continue then why have them at all #even tho ive tagged this as anti ichihime #interestingly enough there is no ichihime interaction or really mention at all in this chapter

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batsandbugs · 4 years ago

Text

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 4: The Three Stooges

AN: At least it hasn’t been two months again 😅. Let’s check in with the other batboys and see how they’re handling Damian and Marinette’s chaos.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tim wondered when his day took a solid dive off the cliffs of normal and into the waters of weird.

It probably started when Dick dragged them out of bed at eight in the morning – on a Saturday – piled them into the car, and drove them an hour and a half out of the city to an IKEA. If they had actually been there to shop they would have either burned the store down or killed one another.

Not that those things were off the table yet.

Tim had work, actual work, that he could be doing. But no, instead he was playing a demented game of hide-and-go-seek, which was careening into an all-out war. The destroyed shelving units, shopping carts, and forklift were unmistakable evidence of that.

How had the demon spawn accomplished this in less than a minute?

Bruce would kill them, once he came back from off-world.

That is if Alfred didn’t get to them first.

“Uh, order 177? Shit, my pay isn't enough for this.”

The words shook Tim from his stupor. He walked over to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, flashing his most charming CEO grin. “I have a quick question?”

The server's fixed smile contrasted with his dull eyes.

“I need to know what way the boy who ordered this headed.”

“No.”

Tim sighed, “Look, it’s important. My brother-”

“I mean, no, it wasn’t a boy.”

Tim paused. “Huh?”

“It was a girl, a teen girl. Black hair, big blue eyes, French accent. She was sitting over there,” he waved at an empty table. “But I think she walked away before that happened.” Referring to the giant train wreck occurring a few aisles over.

“Oh,” said Tim. “Thanks.”

“Do you want the order?”

Tim held back an annoyed sigh.

“Sure.”

So that’s how he, Jason, and Dick, sat at the abandoned picnic table, staring at the abandoned meal bought with Damian’s credit card. Jason grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s evidence, nitwit,” hissed Tim.

Jason ignored him, stabbing a meatball with the plastic fork. “What? It’s going to go to waste. Girlie obviously ain’t coming back for it.”

“We should be more worried about how a random girl used Damian’s credit card!”

“She could have stolen it?” offered Dick.

“Demon spawn would have broken her arm before getting pickpocketed,” countered Jason, eating another fry. Silence. A weird glint appeared in Jason's eye. He turned to Tim. “What did you say the girl looked like again?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, French accent.”

“Shit,” muttered Jason.

“What?”

“I think I ran into her earlier, about an hour and a half ago. Asked her if she had run into demon spawn – she sounded confused and tourist-like. But maybe…”

“Maybe she’s working with him?” offered Tim.

“Could be.”

“Damian? Working with another person? A stranger?” Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him.”

Jason shoved another fry into his mouth. “The brat’s a competitive little shit, if he thought teaming up would help him get ahead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” He pointed a fry at Tim. “Can you look at the security footage?”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Tim said, flashing his phone with the hacked in security camera footage on-screen. Jason and Dick huddled in close as a small girl walk on screen and stood at the counter.

“Yep, that’s her. Can you ID her, Timmy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “This is a smartphone, Jay, not a laptop.”

“I thought Mr. World’s Second Greatest Detective would be prepared for anything.”

“Well excuse me for not having facial recognition software, on my phone.”

“Guys chill.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

The footage played out and they watched the girl order two meals and pay with Damian’s credit card. They switched to another camera when she left and sat at the picnic table. A few minutes later Jason and Tim walked into frame.

“Look, there! She tenses. Look at her body language, she’s panicking. She knows who you two are.” Dick looked shocked that, yes, Damian had teamed up with a partner.

They watched the girl panic, although she managed to keep her body from reacting too much. She placed her phone to her ear and walked away from her spot.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Maybe Damian was watching out of sight?”

“Shoot, Tim, she’s out of frame. Do we have another angle?”

It took another minute or so, but Tim found the right security camera catching the mysterious girl leaving the food court. As she walked away the image on the screen flickered, and a moment later the shelving units fell.

“Oh crap,” swore Jason. “Do you think she has magic? Fuck, it would be just our luck if demon spawn teamed up with someone dangerous.”

Dick shook his head. “It could be a coincidence. We didn’t see her do anything. The chaos could have been a coordinated effort between her and Damian.”

Tim wasn’t so sure. “Come on Dick, you’ve been in the game long enough to know just because something looks one way, doesn’t mean it's true.”

They watched the girl hurry out of sight, this time it was much more difficult to follow her progress through the store. She would randomly duck in and out of showrooms, coming out differently than how she came in. If the three boys hadn’t been trained in stealth and detection for years, they would have had a challenging time tracking her.

Jason whistled low. “Who is this chick? I’m impressed. She has serious skill.”

Finally, she ducked into a showroom and didn’t come out. Tim couldn’t find a camera giving them an unobstructed view, but it didn't matter. They had a destination.

“This was ten minutes ago, they could already be long gone,” said Dick.

“Or they could still be hiding there,” countered Jason.

“We’ll find out when we get there.” They walked out of the cafeteria and past the closed aisles. The forklift that had been buried under the collapsed shelving unit was being unearthed by a flock of bewildered employees.

“Ten bucks says she has magic,” said Jason.

“Yeah, no.” Tim was good at math and the odds of everything happening just as she left was too big to be a coincidence. “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.”

“Come on you guys, let’s focus here,” chided Dick.

Walking back through the showrooms Tim kept an eye out for any sign of his brother or his accomplice, but it was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Arriving at the last location they had spotted the girl, they waited for a touring couple to leave before descending on the tiny, boxed room like the detectives they were trained to be.

It didn’t take long to discover the lasered off vent.

“Shit,” groaned Jason. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Tim can you-”

Tim had his phone in hand, “I’m already on it. I’ll have the vent layout in a minute.” He felt insulted they even needed to ask.

Jason peered into the vent, “Damn, I think we’re too big to follow.”

Dick sighed. “I miss my vent crawling days; they just don’t make them as big as they used to.”

“That’s what she said,” snickered Jason.

“Focus you two,” Tim snapped. “I’ve pulled up the air duct plans.” He flashed the screen to his two brothers who settled down. “This particular vent runs a couple of places. We have one entrance at the back of the store in the storeroom. Then another veering off near the daycare center, and the last which comes out near the unloading dock.”

“I’ll take the one next to the daycare center,” said Dick. “I’m the only one who isn't demented,” pointing to Jason, “or sleep-deprived,” pointing to Tim.

“Hey!” exclaimed Jason.

Tim sneered, repressing a Damian-like growl, “I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived if you hadn’t dragged us out of the house at eight in the morning. I arrived in from patrol at three.” He hadn’t had coffee in hours, and the weight of his body pressed on him like a panini maker.

Dick ignored them. “Jason can take the one at the loading docks, and Tim you’ll be able to bypass security and get into the back the easiest.”

“Sounds good to me,” grunted Jason.

“Alright,” agreed Tim. “The second any of us spots them, text the group chat, will box them in from there.”

They nodded and headed off their separate ways. Despite the tiredness in Tim's bones, there was a heady rush of the hunt thrumming in his veins. Damian, and whoever he had decided to pair up with, were going down.

Tag List: (Closed, sorry!! I’m so glad you all like it though.)

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atlasira · 1 year ago

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All the ROs are compelling, but I think Ari is the healthiest and it’s exactly because of her past.

Brash and Raze want Bright for themselves. They are possessive to fluctuating degrees. This makes sense based on their backgrounds.

During the first game, Brash is being controlled by both Rivera and Lord Mace. His life is barely his own. Of course he has a family and we do meet his sister, Chance, but aside from his upbringing, his current situation is fucked. He doesn’t even have possession over his own heart.

Raze’s childhood was a dumpster fire of abuse. He was a forced pregnancy from a mother who did not want him. Then kept in a lab for experiments. And then had to dodge and weave other demons/spawn in Inferno just to survive. His lair is the only thing he can call his own. He has nothing else.

So it is no surprise that these two characters jump at the chance to “claim” Bright. They have very little to themselves and she is the very rare glimpse of light in their lives.

In comparison, Ari is completely different.

Her backstory was from an obsessive relationship. An aggressive one. She has experienced the loneliness, danger, and manipulation that comes from an abusive partner. Constantly scrutinized and insulted, intentionally isolated and belittled. For most of their relationship, Ari feared Rivera more than she loved her.

So when it comes to Bright, Ari does not engage in similar behavior. She wants freedom for herself, to be able to talk to anyone and do anything without making excuses. So by no means does she try to exert that same forcefulness onto Bright.

Both Brash and Raze talk of wanting to keep Bright to themselves, but in the most sugar sweet ending (I believe), Bright ends the game at Ari’s house regardless of who you romance. She ends the story in the presence of the girl who values independence. I believe that was intentional on the devs part.

I am not saying Brash and Raze are bad ROs. I think they’re amazing ROs and some of the best I’ve seen in awhile. But in terms of toxicity, Ari is easily the healthiest of the three, and I think it was intentional that the game end with Bright staying at her house.

To emphasize that regardless of who you romance and how much you indulged their possessive tendencies or not, Bright’s autonomy is still valued first and foremost. And this is portrayed in how Ari is both her love interest but also a mirror to her own journey.

Demonheart

#demonheart #xan’ari #babbles #vn: demonheart

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awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

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Batfam Alphabet: H - Height

Summary: When Bruce brings a new kid home who happens to be taller than him, Tim isn’t pleased. He already gets relentless insults about his height from the others so adding someone else into the mix will not help, in fact it’s just rather mean. How could Bruce do this to him?

Enjoy! :D

“Absolutely not. Take him back. Get a refund.”

Everyone turns to look at Tim in disbelief as his protest cuts through the silence of the room. Tim pays them all little attention as he keeps his focus on the person directly in front of him.

The newest member of their dysfunctional family stands opposite Tim with a look of uncertainty on his face, probably caused by Tim’s rather blunt comment. Tim already knows all about Duke Thomas, he’s heard about him and has even read what little documents there are on him but this is the first time they are meeting in person. He had been away for the last two weeks on a Titan’s mission and only returned to the Manor that afternoon.

Just behind Duke, Bruce stands stiffly sending him a hard glare. “Tim, do we need to have a conversation?”

In a show of exaggeration, Tim pouts and sends a Bruce a betrayed look. “Yes Bruce. Let’s have a conversation, let’s talk about how this is just unfair of you to do this to me.”

The previous looks of disbelief turn into confusion but it’s Duke who speaks up first now looking both confused and upset. “Hey man, what did I do? This is the first time we’re meeting, surely I haven’t been able to piss you off already?”

At this point Tim has to bite back a grin. He’s only teasing Duke, he has absolutely nothing against the guy, everything he's heard is all positive and Tim honestly thinks he’s brave for willingly coming into the family as he is.

“Tim do you mind explaining yourself.” Bruce demands lowly. His adoptive father is sending him a disapproving look, clearly he isn’t clicking onto Tim’s teasing.

Waving his arms dramatically at Duke, Tim explains. “This is unfair because he’s taller than me! How could you bring someone into the family that’s taller than me Bruce, especially someone who is younger! I thought you loved me.”

A few beats of silence pass by as everyone comprehends Tim’s words. The confused looks revert back into the disbelieving looks but for a different reason this time.

From the right there’s a snort from Jason. “Oh my god I didn’t even notice it, Tim is still the smallest in the family!”

As Jason cackles, because the bastard loves taking the piss out of Tim’s height, Bruce suddenly looks resigned. He sighs before running a hand over his face and Tim bets he’s questioning why he ever thought it was a good idea to have kids.

“Aw,” Dick coos from the side, he’s grinning widely glancing at him and Duke, “Timmy is still the baby bird of the family.”

“That’s not true!” Tim protests, he wheels around to pin Dick with a look. “Damian, and now Duke, are in fact younger than me, making them the baby birds of the family.”

“Aw Timmy…” Dick makes his way over to Tim and before Tim could react, his oldest brother has him trapped in a hug. Dick locks his arms tightly around Tim’s neck and rests his head on top of Tim’s, clearly using his height to his advantage. Tim squawks in protest and tries to push him away with no avail.

“Technically speaking, isn’t Damian the shortest one out everyone?” Duke questions looking a little frazzled at everything going on.

“Yes, but not for much longer,” Jason answers him, “it’s already obvious the demon spawn will outgrow Timmy here. The kid’s eleven, he has at least another three or four growth spurts in him. And have you seen the size of Bruce? There's no way that kid is staying short.”

Tim wiggles in Dick’s grip, trying to move his head around so he could send Jason a glare. “Hey! I have at least another one in me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Sure you do baby bird.”

“What about Cass, she’s smaller than Tim isn’t she?” Duke speaks up again. Tim appreciates the way he keeps bringing up other family members but it also goes to show he has a lot to learn about the way they operate in this family.

Dick gives him a squeeze and Tim grits his teeth, even throwing a punch into the man’s side in attempts to break free from the octopus grasp he’s locked in. He feels Dick shake his head. “Cass doesn’t count, she’s in her own category. Plus she doesn’t get annoyed about it like Tim does, with him we always get a reaction.”

Using all of his force this time, Tim jabs Dick in the stomach before kicking one of his knees, the man stumbles and Tim uses the advantage to finally break free from his grip. Scowling he steps away from him. “Because you’re all assholes that’s why.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re the one that brought it up Tim, you were practically asking for the teasing this time round.”

All Tim could do was huff and cross his arms over his chest because he’s not wrong and Tim can’t exactly deny it.

“It doesn’t matter how tall you end up being or not being.” Bruce suddenly declares. Everyone turns to stare at him, having completely forgotten the man was even in the room. He had been silently watching them converse the entire time.

The man walks over to Tim and places a warm hand on his shoulder, sending him a supportive smile. “Unfortunately we cannot control our genes so we have to work with what we got and make up for what we don’t. You know this Tim, you need to stop letting your brother’s wind you up about it.”

Tim opens his mouth to object against his words but Bruce doesn’t seem to be interested in what he has to say because he gives his shoulder a squeeze and without further ado leaves the room. Tim blinks after him, taking a moment to register what just happened.

A silence falls over the room as the boys all look at one another and it soon becomes awkward as no one seems to know how to break it. In the end it’s Tim himself who breaks it, in a small voice he brings up the previous topic again.

“Being small can have its benefits I guess…” He weakly argues.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Jason mocks, either humouring Tim or simply finding another way to tease him.

“Like beating your fat ass for one.” Tim retorts, trying to not fall for the trap again. This kind of thing really does hit a nerve and make him go on the defensive side. It’s one of his insecurities, he can’t help it.

“Excuse you, I am not fat. This is all hard core muscles, you little twink.” Jason counters back, even standing up straighter as if his height will intimidate Tim.

Tim rolls his eyes at the display, he may be short yes, but he is far from intimidated by Jason’s height. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Alright enough.” Tim’s attention breaks away from Jason when Dick steps between them, intervening. “Enough with the dick measuring contest. As Bruce rightfully said, we work with what we’ve got and make up for what we don’t. Every height has its advantages and disadvantages.”

“Oh fuck off dickhead. That’s bullshit and you know it. We have to show Duke here how things get sorted here now he’s part of the family.” Jason says eyes narrowing at the oldest in the room.

“Real mature Jay,” Dick rolls his eyes, he glances at Duke afterwards, “this isn’t how things get sorted out between us, we’re better than this.”

Duke holds his hands up placatingly, “I don’t even think I want to know.”

“That’s probably a wise idea.”

Tim snorts. “Oh don’t worry about it, Jason here is just insecure because he knows that I can take him down. Even with my small size I can beat him.”

Jason points at him threateningly. “Is that a challenge replacement? Because I will take you down.”

“Will you now? And how would you do that, by sitting on me?”

“Right you little shit…”

Tim yelps as Jason lunges for him. He’s able to dart out of the way from being grabbed and has to dodge again when Jason lunges for him a second time. Knowing that Jason won’t stop until he’s had his revenge Tim dashes for the door to make his escape. As he exits the room he shouts over his shoulder. “Can your fat ass keep up? My smaller size allows me to be more agile than you!”

Jason yells in protest but Tim doesn’t pay attention to it, all he does it focus on getting as far away as he could.

Back in the room, Dick and Duke watch as Tim hurriedly exits the room with a furious Jason on his tail. Dick is unsurprised by the turn of events, having gotten used to this kind of thing a long time ago. Duke, on the other hand, blinks in bewilderment and concern. He opens and closes his mouth several times without saying anything as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Dick glances at him after a moment. “Don’t worry about it, this kind of thing happens all the time, you’ll get used to it.”

“So a simple conversation can turn into a fighting match?”

“Yeah pretty much.” Dick starts heading for the door, gesturing for Duke to follow him. “Come on, let’s go make sure they haven’t killed one another.”

Duke looks alarmed at that. “Wait don’t tell me that’s a thing we have to actually worry about!”

Dick could only laugh in response to that.

#batfam alphabet #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #dick grayson #duke thomas #sibling relationship #sibling rivalry #batfam #humour #everyone makes fun of Tim's height #poor duke #he has no idea what he's in for #teasing #fanfiction

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