#but that deprives the rest of us from watching it be consumed by flames

[has-the-gavle-goat-burned-yet]

Who benefits from the goat being unburnt? Are we missing part of the fun here? On the ground in Gavle is there a crowd of hometown heroes thwarting arsonist assassins left and right?

Catch me fighting the Gavle volunteer army surrounding the goat on my way to commit arson.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[foodieforthoughts]

Thank you, Daddy

Summary: August loves to gift his girl some creamy pie on her birthday.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit smut, male!dom, fem!sub, spread eagle, handcuffs, use of toys, fingering, orgasm denial, squirting, edging, cunt slapping, slight degradation, chocking, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, cream pie, cum swallow, bodily fluids

A/N: Are you seeing those warnings? This is the filthiest smut fic I have ever written! Thanks to @agniavateira for listening to my ideas and providing with helpful pointers.

Title: Thank you, daddy

Lying in complete nakedness, your legs spread wide with little to no movement possible, you kept an eye on the sinfully beautiful man standing by the table picking up a bottle of lube in his hand. You discreetly tried to strain your wrists against the handcuffs tied to your ankles, trying to make no sound.

"Don't." Came his firm command. Steel blue eyes glared at you, halting your movements in an instant. You craned your neck to look at him, dropping your gaze down his shirtless body, travelling to his pelvis. Gulping nervously, you stared at his hardening cock straining against the front of his pants.

Your heart picked up a pace when August walked towards you, pink silicone toy in his hand glistening with the lube slathered over it. He had not even touched you and yet your cunt was already dripping wet. Desire burned in the pit of your belly when he knelt on the bed, his fingers delicately gliding up your thighs, stopping to hover over your warm center.

"You angered me today, kitten." He drawled, voice laced with formidable authority. Your senses tingled under his ardent gaze, mouth going dry as his fingertips brushed against your folds.

Biting your lower lip and bucking your hips to rub your pussy against his hand, you smiled coyly at the beholder of all your wildest fantasies. "I thought daddy liked my dress."

"I did. What I didn't like was how you decided to forgo your panties." August gritted his teeth, leaning to come to your face. His breath was laced with the smell of whiskey; his unique musk flooding your nostrils, stirring a voracious need. Eyebrows knitted together, his cerulean eyes bore into you with ferocious intensity. "Bending in front of the other men, flashing your cunt. Aren't you a little slut?"

His warm breath washed over your face, spreading over your heated skin as he took a moment to close his eyes. You looked at the tempting curve of his lips under the hood of his moustache, wetting yours with the tip of your tongue as a rapturous hunger took over you. You tried to touch his thigh near your ankle, the chain of the handcuffs jingling with your movements. Grunting as he opened his eyes, stealing your breath away with the fiery ardour in his orbs, August moved the toy from one hand to another and you heard the familiar buzzing of the vibrator. Before you could utter a sound, his mouth was on your neck while he rimmed the vibrating silicone phallus around your aching entrance.

Your body jerked in response, licentious moans falling from your lips as August assaulted your trembling pussy with the toy. You hissed when he bit down on the sensitive spot at the junction of your neck, your thighs quivering as he inserted the pulsating artificial member, twisting it to rub against the bundle of nerves inside. You closed your eyes with a shriek when August sat up, bringing his other hand to land a slap at your tits, moving to rub at your clit.

"Ask for permission when you want to cum." August growled, thrusting the gratifying object repeatedly inside your squelching cavern. You pulled at your restrains, wanting to touch your man, to feel his muscles under your fingertips. But August deprived you of that want, keeping your legs open with his elbow resting on your thigh while he drew you closer to your high.

As he worked his calloused fingers on your painfully stimulated clit, you felt the tightening in your belly, fervid urgency building up inside you. You gripped the sheets, groaning as the walls of your pussy clenched around the toy.

"Can I cum, daddy?" You rasped, the coil ready to break with your looming orgasm. "Please, can I cum?" You begged, tears springing in your eyes at the torturous denial of pleasure.

"Apologise for what you did." August ordered, hammering the toy inside you, leaving your glistening pearl to press down on your pelvis. You groaned at the renewed flame of wanton need to let go, crying as you couldn't hold it in any longer. With a scream you felt the coil snap, clear liquid spraying in a jet of stream, dampening the sheets as you saw stars behind your closed eyelids.

But it wasn't a moment for you to bask in your ecstasy as a stinging slap to your cunt made you yelp in agony.

"Ask." August scolded angrily, bringing his hand to smack at your reddening petals again. Your body lurched at the impact, your juices dribbling down your folds.

"Sorry, daddy." You sobbed, gulping lungful of air before apologising again. You couldn't help but whimper when August pulled the toy out of your trembling hole, only to moan when his fingers entered your cunt. Your toes curled as he hooked his digits, pounding his hand inside you and prodding the spot that had you arching your back.

"Daddy, please," You begged, heaving as the coil began winding again. "Can I cum, please?" You asked, writhing as August's fingers moved fervently, edging you closer to your release.

The dark walls of his bedroom echoed with only your strained moans and August's heavy breaths. Sweat covered your entire body as you concentrated on following August's orders or be punished again. His commanding "Yes" was all it took as your inner walls convulsed around his fingers, with an all consuming orgasm accompanied by shuddering muscles and luscious bliss.

While you floated down from your euphoric heaven, August discarded his pants and pumped his rigid cock with his hand.

"Daddy, I want you." You squeaked, reaching out to him with your bound hands.

Laying on your body, dark scruff on his chest grazing your flushed skin, August cradled your head in his hands. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he captured your lips for a blazing kiss, moving his tongue along with yours, as you groaned into his mouth. His cock laid heavy and thick on your thigh, twitching when you sucked at his bottom lip until it turned red.

"You are a slut," He gently slapped at your cheek, smirking as he reached down between your bodies. He lined his bulbous tip at your unguarded entrance, and menacingly whispered, "But you are my slut." He brought his hand to your neck, pressing down, as he shoved his entire length inside your yielding cunt.

You wheezed, shutting your eyes at the intrusion. August rammed into you with fervour while keeping a steady pressure on your fragile neck. Your lungs fought against your rib cage, straining to take in air.

"Daddy," You chocked out, the sound of August's heavy balls slapping against your ass mingling with your gasps. He grunted above you, his pelvis rutting against your clit, the tip of his cock knocking at the apex of your womb.

When he let go of your airway, the sudden rush of unbridled delectation had your core squeeze around his cock, struggling screams leaving your lips as you were overcome with grappling rhapsody. August kept your legs from closing in on him by digging his fingers in the soft flesh of your thighs. He impaled your tormented pussy, chasing his high and with a guttural, animalistic groan he shot his thick load inside you, painting your walls white.

Sweat slicked bodies struggled to catch their breaths, as August rested against you. You winced when he pulled out, sitting back on his knees and running his fingers through your folds.

"Open up." He instructed, his eyes glimmering with malice, as you watched him get the thick concoction of your juices up to your lips. You licked his fingers clean, purring as you swallowed the salty liquid.

"Happy birthday, kitten." August pushed your hair out of your face. "You didn't ask to cum, but I'll let that last one pass."

Holding onto your ankles, you grinned at him and gleefully said, "Thank you, daddy."

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Lady Dimitrescu x female reader 💋

• Warnings ⚠️ : graphic depictions of violence, gore, blood, very strong horror elements, Stockholm Syndrome, mental anguish, character death.

glass angel, part XV.

Smoke took the shape of vile specters as it floated around your groggy head. Through its gray veil, brilliant yellow eyes peered at you with inhuman hunger whilst large drops of murky blood oozed from grinning mouths. Dark, tar-like lips would lean close, murmuring bone-chilling threats which you never truly deciphered. Your body felt sedated, heavy like lead, your voice muted as if you were trapped in a lucid nightmare.

To your distress, this wasn’t a dream.

Satin fingers caressed your navel lovingly, instantly drawing your attention to the woman of your heart's desire. Her features were so alluring in their wickedness, you’d fall for her again, had it not been for the palpable fear making your teeth chatter. You pushed your knees closed defiantly, struggling to free your arms from the daughters’ ruthless grips. Behind you, their sickening breaths of joy were like violent daggers, stabbing the back of your head, deafening and painful. You’ve heard those shrills late at night, in your dreams, even in the brightest hours of the day –

Play with us,

Come out, come out!

You managed to run and slip through their murderous fingers, only to end up caught in the web of their equally devilish mother.

“.. wh… why?...why-"

A quiet sob left you. Anguished tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you watched the graceful matriarch. Your heart shattered at the realization that she was the monster slithering behind the walls in the dark, moving beneath the bedsheets and stalking you from every haunted corner. She was the embodiment of your night terrors, and so very cruel for playing the part of a caring, gentle woman by day.

Alcina’s perfect countenance was void of emotion as she, almost tenderly, caressed the soft dips and curves of your chest. Her touch was agonizing as it neared your heart, strange and unfamiliar against your feverish skin. You could’ve sworn you caught a glimpse of regret in her beautiful eyes when she met your terrified look. The lady of the castle was a true enigma, one which you’ve never had the chance to unravel. Her cigarette died with a final inhale, and through the thick cloud of nicotine, her bewitching gaze flickered with carnivorous lust.

A smaller, vicious hand smacked over your lips, holding your head down when you begun to shake violently. Your throat swelled with involuntary screams as your legs were forced apart and pinned to the torture table, powerless. You tried to bite into the palm that muffled your panicked cries, yet your mouth filled with large, crawling bugs. Appalled, you struggled to spit the insects out and soothe your air-deprived lungs. A heavy taste of rot and blood melted the sweetness of your mouth, leaving you to choke on a deep feeling of disgust. Heavy swarms of buzzing flies suddenly flooded the ceiling, taking the lights out and throwing you in an endless pit of despair.

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…

You clenched your teeth painfully tight, convinced you’d drown either in foul water or those dreadful roaches. Large palms cupped the gentle curves of your nude body, a feeling that once made you arch in willing surrender. Now, the blinding thought of death occupied every corner of your mind, making you wail like a slaughtered lamb.

Massive jaws tore into your limbs deeply, canines scraping bone as they split your flesh apart. Blood flowed abundantly from the gaping wound, into the feral mouth latched onto your inner thigh. Small, crimson rivulets pooled beneath you on the table as Lady Dimitrescu suckled your raw flesh with greedy hunger, familiar tongue lapping at the gash almost sensually. The sound of warm meat crushing between teeth filled your throat with bitterness, bile ready to spill.

Delirious, you begun replaying moments of your life when you were happy, safe in the company of loved ones who would never do you harm – your life flashing before your eyes.

Somehow, in the midst of your horrid torture, bolts of euphoria rushed through your broken limbs, akin to the ones you’ve felt when your lady’s masterful tongue pleasured you. Was this your brain's laughable attempt to bring comfort in those harrowing moments? Alcina leered with unsated appetite whilst thick blood overflowed her flawless chin, pooling in between her large breasts.

The velvety feel of her smooth tongue was excruciating, blinding you with ripples of debilitating pain, only to forcefully draw sensual pleasure out of you the next moment. You suddenly climaxed, yet the orgasmic bliss was barely able to compensate for the agony of being eaten alive.

It was a never-ending dance of extremities which blurred the lines between good and evil, reality and dream. You floated in and out of consciousness as life was stolen from you, drained through vampiric indentations drilled into your still-living flesh. At times, you’d see swarms of darkness clouding the pristine ceiling and you were sure the daughters were feeding on you as well. But you soon realized they were only there to aid their mother in whatever unholy ritual she was subjecting you to. Scarlet lips savored your skin with sensual kisses, smearing your life essence from the throbbing injuries on your thighs to the vulnerable warmth in between. You fearfully anticipated another agonizing bite, yet it never came. Instead, pleasure pooled hotly in your core as she painted your flower red, brining you yet again to the heights of forbidden ecstasy.

“A Phoenix needs to be consumed by flames in order to be born anew.”

Alcina murmured sweetly, resting her large palm at the base of your throat, gentle thumb stroking your weak pulse. You wished you could’ve hated her for what she was doing, for what she’d done, yet only naive adoration filled your chest at the sight of her dazzling eyes. She pulled away from your burning flesh, swallowing deeply. Even freed, your limbs were useless as you watched her with unfocused, half-lidded eyes. Your senses were shutting down rapidly from the copious amount of blood loss, each strangled breath threatening to be your last.

The madam stood to her magnificent height, towering over you as she paced about the room and observed you closely. At times you swore you saw a concerned frown darkening her flawless features, and then she’d smile mischievously while threading long fingers through your hair, touching your cold forehead. When the door opened and her perfume dissipated, you finally let your heavy lids fall close.

Her daughters gathered around you in her absence, eager to lap each precious trace of blood off your weak body. Their mouths were large, grotesque slugs, their fingers crawling insect legs, picking at your tender wounds. Feeling awful, you groaned and shifted with the last bits of strength you could muster. A sudden weight crushed your chest, making you heave as if you were about to vomit all the pain, the distress, the horror of being there.

Grisly faces loomed over you whilst you were carefully laid upon the floor on a single white bedsheet. Then, in the blink of an eye, the three macabre figures exploded into restless insects, taking away the chamber's light. In the overwhelming gloom, you heard the sound of your own sternum breaking, bone shards making a home into your dry flesh. Strangely, you didn’t feel a thing, as if you were naught but a corpse on the autopsy table, your soul damned to linger in its decaying shell. Something moved within you, slithering between your ribs and feeding on your heart, your lungs.

Dim candles came to life, revealing the charming image of Lady Dimitrescu kneeling over you, as beautiful as the moment you first saw her. She took your lips in a sensual kiss, and with it, your last breath.

-          To be continued...

*part XVI.

[stylistiquements]

There was the silence and there were the stars | Corpse husband x reader -Among Us AU

Among us AU : There was something. Something in the silence and the harsh coldness -that only space was capable of- that turned your brain into a sarcastic and bored mess. Maybe that’s why you found yourself so interested by any sabotage pulled on the crewmates, maybe that’s what made him so interesting to witness. He was different from the rest of you. Different to an extend you were about to understand.

❚ Word count : 4.2k ❚ Warning : A bit angsty but you will get that fluffity fluff and touch starve feeling you require I promise ; swearing ❚ Note : there will be no mention of death or killing as it is basically a real life Among us, just some shenanigans. Y/C : your/color

A/N : This little thing was inspired by -⭐️ anon. It was a fun thing to write even though it took me way too long because I asked my brain “sir may I pls have the focus capacity I need” and brain said no (: so yeah, this is litteraly just me ranting n complaining about space. This is a bit angsty but as what if is way too happy for me that was a nice opportunity. I hope you won’t mind and appreciate it anyway. As always just let me know. As it’s my first time writing like a one shot thingy I’m really curious to know. Also it’s supposed to be proofread but if you find any mistake just take ur glasses off. Thanks. Enjoy the wild ride. 

You met him again. He was fixing wires while you were downloading some files on the computer. Difficulties happened regularly around here; various oddities that occurred from time to time, sometimes a few times a day. It would go from doors closing mysteriously to no electricity, you never knew which one it would be. Those inconveniences used to draw a smile on your lips, a grin you tried your best to hide from everyone else. The sound of the urging siren resounded in your head like a call, reviving the last spared spark left in your brain. At this point, you were pretty sure it was one of your crewmates’ doing, too many coincidences for any other options to be left. You didn’t mind though. The game started months ago but still amused you to this day. 

He never let a word escape his mouth. To your awareness, no one knew anything about him, no one had ever heard the sound of his voice which you could only dare to imagine since the two of you met. It felt silly, you fabricated this voice inside your head, a half-finished melody you played to keep your mind busy. It would have sounded just as an old piano would. So slightly out of tune that maybe, if you didn’t care enough or wished for it not to be true, you wouldn’t even notice. 

You called him black. It resonated with the color of his suit and the darkness that emanated from his soul. Not that he looked like a mischievous character, but rather like someone who would have been gnawed by life for years. A shade that reminded you of the bittersweet feeling 4 AM forced you to taste. Describing that presentiment was a challenge you couldn’t take. It was one of those things that had to be felt, not narrated. 

Shit.

He caught you staring again. How could you look any other way? There was something with him that appealed to you, that pulled your eyes toward his direction every time. Probably only a peak of unwarranted curiosity you couldn’t really be blamed for, probably the oh-so mysterious aura that floated so carelessly around him. He always had this way of sneaking in and out, just as if he was nothing but his own shadow. 

Yet, being near him was easy. Silence only felt comfortable when he was in your surroundings. The whole world stopped existing -and it had in fact since the first day you two met.

He had dark charcoal hair which fell so perfectly in curly strands around the two horns that crowned over his head. Paired with two ruby hued eyes, he truly was a sight for sore eyes. A wicked and breathtaking beauty, so unique it gave you the impression that he wasn’t even human. 

He used to hop in a vent after finishing his tasks. As if his true home was there; a secret hideout for him and him only. You didn’t even know it was a thing before you watched it with your own eyes. Who wouldn’t blame him. If you could have escaped that warmth deprived place too, even for 5 minutes, you would have. 

That’s why you never asked any question about it nor tried to investigate further. Being stuck in space was only a kid’s fantasy, nothing a fully conscious adult would inflict to themselves. Which, in itself, was pretty much self-explanatory about everyone’s mental condition in here.

It was also a pre-established rule, no questions. No one ever expressed it out loud, but you would have to be a fool not to guess it. Every crewmate grew accustomed to the deadly silence only space had to offer. A giant timeless hole where nothing really happened. With nothing but the smell of technology and the constant purr of engines as the only distractions left. See, living in a spaceship was no ordinary lifestyle : days and nights melted into each other until it became nothing but a groundless concept. The crewmates perceived it as comforting for some reason. You used to shrug it off, no questions. How unethical would you be to disturb their peace? 

If you had to be honest, you would probably say that you felt bad for Black. Nothing like pity, but being alone in this stark and brutal silence for this long must have been pretty life-consuming. That’s why, even though it made your cheeks and the tip of your ears flame up in a raw and unforgivable tint of pink, you always kept looking into his eyes for one more second after he noticed you. Just to be sure he knew that he wasn’t alone in this shit hole. You stared into the depth of those ruby eyes, hunting for silent answers to questions you weren’t even sure of in the first place. He never quivered, only stood motionless until his task was completed. Just locking the eye contact. After that, he always ran away as silently as he existed. Leaving your head disturbingly empty. 

Every single time. 

Something changed one day. You were about to prepare some test samples when it happened. He jumped off a vent and you followed his movements from the corner of your eyes, too distracted to remember about the task that was assigned to you. He ran to the door and proceeded to shut it. Within the last second, the one that always lasted hours, he put an index in front of his mouth. Silently asking for you not to say a word. And before the steel door could obstruct your vision completely, you noticed a smile on his lips. A smile that made the whole spaceship turn inside out, draining the blood out of your body in a painstaking, almost sore way. There you stood, intoxicated by stupefaction and trapped as a cat. 

Black mutated you into a self-depreciating joke : in here, you were only interestied in the impostor. The only one who made your day a little better was the one giving nightmares to the others. 

It was him, from the beginning. It was him and he smiled. A grin that twinkled maliciously from his lips to his eyes, wounding your heart in an insoluble way. It made every prejudice you had about him crumble : he was no longer that miserable existence you sensed he was but a quiescent sun that could radiate all around him once unleashed into the world. How did he do that? How could he be both the tunnel and the light at the end of it?

When red came to the rescue, she described you with a glare. She judged you in the not-so-pleasant way. You could always count on those glares to know their opinions about you. Because their judgment would have to be expressed one way or another. She thought you looked suspicious, with your half poured concoction into a hand and the rest of it in the other, just staring blankly into the void. You wouldn’t blame her for that. 

It stuck with you for days, filling your empty mind with the sight of a smile that could no longer be experienced. The scene shamelessly repeated itself in your mind until it became nothing but a progression of disassembled images, forcing you to taste the astonishment over and over again. The problem was, you hadn’t seen him for days. And, even though you wanted to know what happened, you couldn’t ask. That was the rule. 

What would you say anyway ? Black is the imposter and I watched him close medbay’s door ? Yeah, I don’t think so. You should have stopped him in the first place -and you would have if you weren’t just mesmerized.

So, you took each day -or night … or piece of time, whatever you wanted to call it since it was no longer existent- with composure. Forcing yourself to do any task with a meticulousness that didn’t look like you. Just to make sure your brain was busy enough not to think about it or him. Being trapped in a place and being trapped in your own mind are two different wrestles, yet in here those two intertwined perfectly. Just like the rest of it, it didn’t even make any sense : the guy smiled at you for ten seconds and here you were, an absolute clutter of questions and recollection. You were probably just too bored and he, as always, was the perfect distraction. That must have been it, right?

You walked in admin. Your heart skipped a beat before your eyes could process who stood in front of them. 

Look what the cat dragged in. 

His hair twirled flawlessly above his face, almost hiding a grimace that indicated so transparently his mind. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, unabashedly watching him as he swiped his card frantically while sighting heavily every time that “bip” of failure rang. 

Eventually, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You tried anyway, staring at him as if he was some sort of work of art that needed to be decrypted. From the way his chest moved heavily under the pressure of the irritation to the way his glowing eyes witnessed you. This expression on his face gave him a funny look, a scowl which made the laugh that tickled your throat hard to hold back. 

“Y-you have to do it slower. Otherwise, it won’t work” you stuttered. “I guess it’s harder since …” 

You walked to him carefully, so carefully you forgot your words. Just as if he was a wild animal who could run away if scared. Making sure no step would fall out of line. He was so close, so close, maybe if you tried to catch him this time he would stop running away. 

“Since it’s not my job, right ? Is that what you were about to say ?” he asked with a low voice, a voice you would have never dared to picture for him. Not the broken tone you pictured but a melody so sweet and so unique it felt like it was made just for your ears to enjoy, taunting you to dive into his mind.

“Do you need help” ? 

“I- hum- You’re not supposed to help me, you know ?” he stuttered, visibly amused, judging by the way his eyes wrinkled under his smile. 

“Are you gonna lock me in the room once again ?” He shook his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “Then who cares” you finally breathed.  

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you grabbed the card. You tried to appear unbothered, hoping so intensely for the swipe to be a first try success. That way, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way you breathed heavily under the weight of your pounding heart. But those red eyes piercing through the depth of your soul were hardly bearable for those like you who suffered from unbeknownst afflictions. 

You grew aware of his every move, the way those eyes fell on you, the perfume that emanated from his skin, the sound of his slow yet noticeable respiration.

You gave him his card back and he captured your fingers in the palm of his hand, making it impossible for you to escape his grip. Hiding those blushing cheeks from a sight that seemed to see everything was a defiance only the proudest people would be capable of. It wasn’t your case, but you counted on preserving the last sane cells left in your body. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered, avoiding any eye contact.

“I know that.”

 A simple answer that would never be enough to satisfy you. Yet, before you could review the best option of an answer, he left. Just as he always did, he walked away silently -still this time it seemed to last an eternity- while you just stood there inertly as you watched his black silhouette disappear into the endless gray hallways. 

You finally caught the breath you had been holding this whole time. Leaning over, you observed your reflection into the screen of the digital tablet as you rubbed your hands together, hoping for that strange spike of electricity that ran through your fingers to fade away quickly. A mess.

“There you are, Corpse” green said as he sat cross-legged in black’s secret place “I’ve been looking for you.”

Corpse was the name green chose for Black, feeling like it would be the most suitable image for the one who always worked in the shadow. Not the most refined nickname, yet black ironically related to that. Silent as a Corpse, he thought. A level of sarcasm that amused him and which probably led to him immediately falling in love with it. 

Corpse observed the little sprout on the top of Green’s head. It floated lightly and followed his every move. What a little freak. Just a thing deprived of any sort of self consciousness, out of this world just like he felt he was. Corpse remained fixated on it, hoping he could get as self-aware as it was. The last impromptu reunion he had with you was nothing he had planned, nothing that should have happened. He wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake and still, he had no one else but him to blame.

“Did something happened with y/c ? You seem a little flustered.” Green asked, pulling Corpse out of his overflowed mind. 

“I don’t know, I think I kinda fucked up.” He replied with a shrug. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Was it really a mistake ?”

Green was the only one who was granted with the privilege of learning how to understand Corpse. Because, deep inside, they grew up to be the same kind : the kind that didn’t belong here. Two sides of the same coin. 

Green’s social intelligence, on the other hand, Black didn’t like it that much. Thanks to that guy, he would be able to work comfortably in the darkness, where no one could see him, but it also meant that he saw clearly what was going through Corpse’s mind. Actually, it didn’t take him too long. 

What was the surprise when he realized it was you who lived rent-free in his thoughts? See, in Corpse’s eyes you were different from the others : too conscious about the reality that happened before yours eyes. It made you interesting to observe. What a delightful sight it was to watch you rolling your eyes in your crewmates’ face, to notice the serious look you had when you were focused on a task, the way your eyes sparkled every time a new sabotage was made. He wouldn’t track you, yet he would never resist a peek once your paths crossed. It happened often, more than you actually realized.

Yet, Corpse was no fool. You and him never belonged together. You were destined to a bright destiny and he was the obscurity. That’s why he was more than careful not to get too close, not to see his bare mind get burnt under the exposition of those peculiar feelings in the pit of his stomach. 

That’s why his previous reaction made no sense to him. But what could he say? You took him aback when those words were directed at him. You made his short-circuited brain unable to be sensible anymore. He just wanted to know what your touch would feel like under his fingers. Why was his skin blazing with electricity now ?

Corpse swallowed it all. From the blossoming feeling inside his body and mind to the warmth and the softness of your skin. He couldn’t feel that way. “I’m not really sure.” he finally said, as honest as he could be with himself. 

He would spend his next few days planning with Green, cornering you to a small part of his brain. You couldn’t be there, you had no right to be. The game was progressing faster than they anticipated it. It made him thrilled, accepting the challenge no one but the two of them could bear. 

However, a new unwanted seed grew into his mind. The idea that, maybe, you were only by his side in this game. That, maybe he would never be able to witness your existence in the real world.

“Have you ever noticed how weird the stars look sometimes ?” Corpse asked as he joined navigation. You jumped and your mind turned into a scattered place stuck between a task you battled to achieve and the proximity left between the two of you. Your heart beat in rhythm with his echoing, never ending footsteps. Still you had, indeed, noticed. “It’s like they’re not even real” you answered with a smile that made your voice higher. A melodic lift that betrayed your intention of ever finishing your job. 

When you finally looked at him, his lips moved into a satisfied curve. Shivers tickled your arms and your neck. Maybe because he was just standing so perfectly still in front of the glass window. So perfectly still that, among all those celestial bodies, he appeared to be the most beautiful one.  “Mind keeping me company for a bit?” Your mouth betrayed you when the question escaped your grip. But Corpse snorted faintly and shook his head.

“From all the people in here you want to spend time with me ? That’s probably not your wisest decision.” He said as he tried to muffle a high pitch laugh with a hand that covered his mouth.

See, that’s the words he had been afraid of since the first time he saw you. The words he would have to turn into derision since he knew he would have no strength to refuse. Yet, you stood there with those glimmering eyes and those eyebrows that arched in a strange manner, cutting every single inch of air out of his lungs. Even if he wanted to say no -and he should- he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was never meant to happen, not judging by your two so hostily opposed nature. Fuck that shit. Who cared about that speech when you were here and you were so beautiful?

You moved closer to him, a strenuous and slow tense that shouldn’t be disregarded. You’ve had seen the same scenery for months yet never it made you feel the same way as you did at that very moment. Because those balls of lights floating into the void shimmered in his ruby hued iris just as a dozen of fireflies would. He made your world a little blurry, narrowed to his presence at your side.

“You forgave me really easily the last time we met.” He noticed. “That’s a little sus if you asked me.”

“Well, what can I say ? You’re the only distraction I have left, so I’m not really in the position to hold grudges.” You shrugged sarcastically. 

“You’re really funny, I have to concede that” he said as his smile made its way to his eyes. 

Your brutally honest words intertwined with his chuckles and crewmates never heard the spaceship as lively as that time. That time when you got to discover who Corpse really was. A man who hid his blooming existence behind a silence.

“Why did you stay silent this whole time ?” You dared to ask before the silence fell upon the two of you, a silence that maybe you wouldn’t be able to endure this time.

“Because I never wanted to lie”

“I- ...hum- there’s really nothing I could say against that, right ?”

With every grin, every chuckle, every abrupt eye contact, your proximity kept embedding his mind a little deeper until you stole the stars’ show completely. It’s no good, you held his breath hostage when he realized he could feel the warmth stemming out of your skin. So tempted to get closer and witness it with further clearness. 

Thus, he lifted a hand that starved connection. He tried to close the gap between your two touches so prudently, so discreetly that you didn’t even notice. A touch, that would go beyond his movement, more like a proof he needed to make sure someone like you really existed in a shithole like this.  

He was so close. 

Yet, the alarm rang before he could embrace the object of his desire. “Better check that out quickly” you said with a sigh. Somehow, it felt peculiar just knowing that, this time, you were the one running away. A sense of some sort of joke played by space. As if space hadn’t done enough. When Green cut the communication, he couldn’t realize -If only he knew the double meaning of that sabotage. Ah, the irony of it all. 

“I’ll see you soon” Corpse informed you, more of a promise than a farewell and he stayed there long enough, staring numbly at his hand.

You ran until the communication room, holding this bittersweet feeling on the tip of your tongue. You tried to swallow it and almost found yourself praying that no one would arrive before you could. This way, maybe your fugue would make more sense. 

Blue was already sitting on the floor, trying to find the good frequencies. “I’m already on it.” she said on a plain, monotone voice. Of course, she fucking would be. 

Now what was left to do ? Corpse was probably already gone and-and the silence … the silence had returned. A dead, cold, cruel silence. It tested out your nerves, built up some pressure down your throat that made keeping your composure barely possible. Corpse slipped between your fingers again. The game was no longer a funny and pleasant diversion from the plain, austere daily life you had. You grew tired of that cat and mouse game. You just wanted him.

After going back to the oh-so empty navigation room, you completed your tasks. And you were finally done. You wandered around for hours, days -who knows-, searching for a purpose. 

The game was coming to an end, you could feel it. Something in the air changed, it became dryer than ever. Unbearable on your skin that ached for something you couldn’t apprehend. The crewmates were agitated, everyone kept running around day and night just to make sure the last tasks would be completed as soon as possible. New difficulties were triggered almost as soon as the last ones ended. Chaos. 

Just as if he wasn’t ready to end the game so soon, as if he didn’t want to get the hell out of this place as much as you did. From time to time, you almost found yourself eager to ignore the alarm. Taunting him one last time by neglecting his call. 

Maybe that way he would show up, maybe that way he would stay with you. Yeah, maybe that way he would stop being nothing but an ephemeral being that almost made you wonder if you finally gave up on your mind to the silence. Because at that moment he only felt like a chimera your brain created to protect you. Because you were just so fucking bored.  

You gave up on that idea, turning on the CCTV as you sighed. Just to see more colorful suits running around, trying to hold their shit together for what appeared to be the ultimate hour. Despite all the sabotages, it seemed like your number made your strength. You imagined Corpse’s face, probably piqued. A dark frown covering his pretty eyes. It made your lips twitch for a second. Who knew it would end this way ? Definitely not you. 

Yet that amused smile faded away when you heard the familiar sound of the door closing, locking you in yet another time. You rolled your eyes and turned around, unprepared to witness who locked themselves with you. His body laid against the door, guarding it as his chest moved frenetically under the weight of his rushing breath. 

“This is the end” he whispered frantically under his breath. He doesn’t look as worried as you thought he would, but it didn’t matter. You moved impulsively toward him, never stopping until he snaked a hand around your waist and slipped the other one in your back. That way, this time, there were no escape. 

He let his head rest in the hollow of your neck, soaking the divine and comforting warmth you had to offer. His warm breath on your skin sent shivers through your body which responded by squeezing him a little tighter, holding him as close to your heart as humanly possible. You could feel his, beating so fast.

“This is the end.” His whisper grounded on your skin. 

He lifted his head to dive into your eyes with the same sweet smile you offered him. The one which expressed the happiness, the relievment it felt to embrace him. 

“If it were for you, I would do it all over again.” You said, pressing your forehead against his, sharing a breath as you closed your eyes. One last attempt to memorize everything about him. You sensed his smile, so wide you didn’t even have to look at it to see. He left a trail of kisses on your cheeks and your hand wandered in his hair as a faint gasp escaped your lips.

Corpse looked back at you. And then, as his thumb drew light circles on your cheek. With glowing eyes that translated all the adoration he felt for you, he whispered “Maybe it was just meant to be”. And then, he closed the distance between the two of you, brushing your lips softly at first before capturing them completely once he was sure you felt the same way as he did. A kiss that tasted like 4AM and home. 

“I’ll find my way back to you, my love. I’ll find you in the real world.” He promised.

[internalsealpanic]

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it. 

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.  

word count:  5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal. 

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting.  You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral, 

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step. 

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once. 

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license. 

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back. 

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young. 

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place. 

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA! 

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you. 

Fucking hilarious. 

Just fanfuckingtastic. 

You’d see about that. 

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief. 

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones. 

You were going to get him back. 

You will. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend. 

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.  

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused. 

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head. 

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked. 

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win. 

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook. 

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted.  he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him. 

“Are you even literate?” He joked. 

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught. 

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

 You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high. 

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you. 

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”. 

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead. 

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty. 

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably. 

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.   

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that  your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand. 

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to. 

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering  and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard. 

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged. 

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter. 

“Fine,” 

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard. 

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope. 

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing. 

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it. 

Jason owed you big time. 

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup. 

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug. 

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug. 

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it. 

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets. 

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.  

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much? 

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration. 

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked. 

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you. 

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared. 

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open. 

You were going to be sick. 

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a  bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months. 

Now,  you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss. 

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile. 

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if  you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much. 

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you. 

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts. 

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry. 

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person. 

Focus. 

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further. 

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything. 

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue. 

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun. 

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt  Jason. 

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms. 

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.  

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence. 

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty. 

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen. 

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened. 

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft. 

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker. 

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness.  Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb. 

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours. 

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing. 

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface. 

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics. 

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest. 

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl. 

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder.  You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them.  Seriously fuck them. 

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin. 

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-  

You woke up on the damp earth. 

Everything ached. 

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish. 

Your mind even more so. 

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes. 

Your senses returned to you one by one. 

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness. 

Your fingers felt cold and numb. 

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses. 

That wasn’t right. 

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago. 

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint. 

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically. 

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone. 

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you. 

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back. 

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself. 

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought. 

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing. 

 Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable. 

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

  He was dead. 

  He died. 

  He was in Ethiopia. 

  He was trying to save his mom. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Where is Bruce? 

  Where is he? 

  Why is it so dark? 

  Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in. 

  That’s when the smell of earth hit him. 

  Jason pressed his hands every which way. 

  He was literally boxed in. 

  Was he in a coffin?

  He tried to scream. 

  His mouth was wired shut. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god.

  Oh god. 

  He was going to die.  

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

The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments. 

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back. 

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist: 

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Caffeinated drinks, black dots and I should’ve stayed at home

Kanene’s Notes: Heya, heya awesome beans! Howz you are all doing?!

I am very glad that I finally finished this idea dfghjkderty. Shinsou was the second character that my mind screamed that I NEEDED to put in a cat cafe and kjhgtrertyu I think that one is a litol more funny and fluff than hurt/comfort, like the one with Midoriya, but worry not! In the end of the day one more kid is adopted :D

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* There is passing out due exhaustion, sleep deprivation and cursing, but besides that i don’t think that there are any more warnings. This is more funny and fluff.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Oh!! If you have an idea for another scenario in this universe, hmu! I would love to hear it !!Thankys so much for reading this. Take care! Drink water! Eat well!! Pet a cute animal today!! And please sleep a bit, okie? <3 Byeioo!~

                         [~*~]

Shinsou blinked for what it felt the fifth time on the last minutes, which was probably the same amount a normal human being was supposed to blink but right now it just felt wrong. He rubbed his stinging eyes again, suppressing another yawn, firm on his purpose to concentrate his brain enough on the task of remembering his order, an almost impossible action by the way a growing headache involved his mind since he woke up.

The teenager focused again on the colorful, full of doodles of paws and whiskers menu, wishing for the first time in nearly two months attending the place that the drinks’ names were objective and direct, and not awful cat puns that made his braincells prefer to combust themselves instead of gathering the necessary information to remind him of the beverage he should ask.

 He squinted his eyes, dots appearing in the air. Hm. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe he should order two of the most caffeinated drinks instead of just one? He stared the menu again, frustration flaming on his veins as the words blurred and lost their signification, dancing together with the café’s lights.

 And it was only 7 AM.

Perhaps he should have stayed home, on the safety of his bed and the darkness of his room. He knew he should have cancelled his training.

 And yet, even thinking about that possibility made Hitoshi’s stomach be consumed by anxious tugs and knots, leaving an unpleasant taste of displeasure on his mouth. His trainings were one of the best moments on his entire week. They were events he would catch himself smiling as he thought about a newest move he learned or how his body seemed to recover quicker from the lessons. Or even how good, how right and free he felt on the gym, tired and sore, in the moment that his mentor nodded, proudness flicking in his eyes.

 … How amazing it felt to look at the mirror and see that same feeling reflected on his own gaze.

 He couldn’t deprive himself of that sensation, even if dealing with the painful consequences of his sleep deprivation and probably a lecture if his mentor caught him was the only other options.

 “Just one more. Just one more person and then I can ask for the strongest caffeinated shit here.” Yeah. This time those cups would be enough to make him endure at least his afternoon classes, he repeated to himself in mumbles. Two cups. Two cups and some minutes petting a cat and he would be ready. He would be ready for the world and society and the whole being a functional human being thing. And then he would get on the metro and nap until he gets home where he would have the real opportunity to properly sleep. Almost there. Just two cups. Two. Two cups.

 Gosh, he probably sounded like Midoriya, mumbling non stop like this. A mental image of the energetic teen looking as tired as Shinsou and drinking coffee as if his life depended on it popped on his brain, leading to a sudden urge to giggle manically take over the purple haired boy, and for the way some other customers eyed him warily he possible vocalized that impulse as well, limbs feeling at the same time too much heavy and too much light.

 He was so fucking tired.

 “Next one!” Loud. So loud. Shinsou obligated his body to step closer, opening his eyes enough to realize that dark spots still painted his vision. Huh. When did he close his eyes, again? “Good morning, little customer! How can I help you today?”

 Hitoshi stared at the figure in front of him, senses slow like he was under water, trying to understand the distorted sentences being directed at him, the dots growing and twinkling. Black dots were supposed to be able to do that?

 The world swayed a bit under his feet. He tried to move his lips but they didn’t obey him.

 “Little customer?” The voice sounded worried, and maybe that is what compelled the boy to take a deep breath, putting all his will in forming word after word when a nauseating wave of tiredness hit him, leading his conscience’s grip in reality weaken.

 “I am going to pass out.”

 And then the world got completely black, his senses disappearing together with a background screech.

 Well, fuck.

 […]

 Yamada had seen a lot of crazy, strange things while working at the cat café.

 As example that one shift when an adult of blue hair, strict pose and clear exhaustion dripping in waterfalls from his form was convinced that he was in a library and fiercely tried to return a book to them, doesn’t taking a ‘no’ as answer until the blond was left stupefied with a book of “The Secrets Hidden in The Bottom of The Ocean” on his arms.

 Or that occasion when a boy with a blank expression wearing Victorian clothes and completely surrounded by crows opened their door, looked from a side to another, stared at the deepest parts of Yamada’s soul, analyzing all his dark fears and secrets before slowly blink and say “Wrong store, my apologies” walking back and calmly ignoring the hissing and battle yowling of dozens of cats and crows.

 Or the day a green haired woman with a kind, calm aura just walked behind the counter completely unphazed by Hizashi and Aizawa’s unbelieved looks, made two healthy snacks, patted their cheeks saying ‘You two need to eat more, dears’ and then disappeared as if nothing had happened.

 However, none of those events ever prepared him for the moment which purple eyes would stare his in an unfocused state, not really looking at anything and a wobbly smirk – if he wasn’t accustomed with Shouta’s grin, he would easily call it ‘creepy’ – would paint his customer’s pale face, the silence ringing alarmingly on his ears.

 “Are you okay, little listener? Do you want to sit for a minute? You look extremely tired.”

 As the words came out of his lips, a spell seemed to break, the other’s face getting even paler, smile falling and eyes widening leaded his body to stumble forward instinctively, something on his guts screaming for him to get ready. A few other customers on the line grumbled in impatience, looking at their watch and protesting. Somewhere, in the deep part of his brain, Yamada wondered why those things only happened when Aizawa was out and no procedures for those kinds of situations were previously discussed on their contract.

 “Hey, guy,” a blonde teenager behind the paralyzed one said, tipping forward in an attempt to catch the other’s expression, his kimono following each move, “are you… here with us?”

 “Little listener?”

 A hesitant poke on his cheeks, two pair of eyes warily watching a third.

 His mouth finally moved.

 “I am going to pass out.” His voice was light, stitched together by certain. His legs trembled under his own weight, body collapsing.

 “You WHAT?” A terrified shriek mixed itself between Hizashi’s words, flying across the whole store.

 “Oh, shi-”

 His blonde client didn’t waste a second before holding the other, arms locking under his armpits in a strange kind of hug, knees weakening with the sudden, unexpected effort, the limp teenager not even flinching with the touch, laying there completely motionless.

 Hizashi blinked, gulping, adrenaline exploding on each one of his fibers, color slightly draining from his own face, a piece of his conscience wishing with all its strength for this to be only a dream. When his eyes opened, everything would be the same.

 He blinked, the deafening silence still crushing the room, one set of black eyes staring at him in confusion and growing panic, another set closed, heavy, dark circles under it.

 Right. He didn’t have time for this.

 So, he blinked again, finding himself in front of them both, pushing his feelings under a mask of a calm, an easy reassuring smile already slipping on his face, crouching to get the legs of his customer, catching the gaze the other and winking, “let’s get him on a more comfortable position, right?”

 A determined nod, quick, careful steps as they both laid the purple haired one on a small couch placed under some shelves, having to gently dislodge three sleeping cats, who hissed in irritation. The voice of Nemuri, attending the rest of the line filling the space and being acknowledged in the back of his mind, serving as a firm ground and helping his muscles to relax, even if just a little bit.

 Hizashi stared the young boy in front of him, looking somewhat peaceful, a bit of color having already returned to his face, soft snores coming out from him.

 … Hitoshi. That is his name, right? He wasn’t a new client, always coming at every fifteen days, always by morning and always caffeinated drinks that only Yamada - on his most delirious moments - ever thought in trying, quick to go to play with any feline who appeared in front of him. Although, he never stayed more than ten minutes, the quiets ‘bye’s he gave to the felines never failing to melt Yamada’s weak, bleeding heart.

 A childish voice pulled him right out of his thoughts.

 “Mom, is he dead?”

A snort escaped his lips before he could help it. Kids.

 “Sir?” The teenager shook a small device with a shiny screen in front of him, the logo of a new rock band he hadn’t a chance to listen to yet on the background “I found his phone, I think we should call his emergency contact…?”

 “Of course! Thank you, little helper!” He ruffles his hair, flashing a smile and thumbs up as his finger quickly clicked on the call button, listening, not trying to show his impatience as it ringed.

 “You’re late.” A tired voice answered him, and Hizashi felt his entire body relax completely, right before the surprise shook its frame, too much pieces clicking together in a puzzle he didn’t even know he was solving.

 “SHOU?”

 [~*~]

 “I am sorry.”

 “You will be writing a formal letter apologizing to Hizashi, Nemuri and to me, our classes will be cancelled for this week and, if I notice you didn’t recover properly on this free time, for the next week as well. I am not going to stand by and watch you running yourself to the ground, damaging your potential because you lack of some sense of self preservation, do I make myself clear?” Shinsou tried to not visibly flinch at his sensei’s words. He almost forgot how much intimidating Aizawa could be when totally serious. They stopped by the Cat Café’s door, the black eyes staring at him.

 “Yes, sir.” He answered, lowering his gaze. Shouta sighed, his worry stopping to come out as harsh and necessary words to materialize itself in the form of him patting the boy’s head, messing his hair for a few seconds before opening the door and getting into the establishment.

 “Good. Now come in, Hizashi has been worried and he won’t stop pestering me until he sees with his own eyes how you are.”

 Hitoshi didn’t had time to question how someone that he just met – if you consider passing out in front of him a proper meeting – could be worried about his well-being when, as the door clicked behind him, an excited screech filled the room, forging the realization that maybe that weird high sound before his faint wasn’t just the ring of his ears.

 “SHINSOU!!” And, in a blink of eyes, the blonde was in front of him, hands on his face, turning it from a side to another, up and downwards, “You look so much better with some color on your face! I am glad that you finally took some necessary rest, huh? Your eyeshadows even got lighter, which, phew, is such a relief! For a very terrifying moment there I almost thought you would be as bad as this guy right here.” Yamada locked his arms around Aizawa’s shoulder, using the time to take a breather and smile, gladly giving the younger some time to process the flow of words thrown at him. “You gave us both quite a scare, kiddo.”

 “I am deeply sorry for inconveniencing you and interrupting your work, Yamada-san.” He bowed, a slight embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

 “Just please don’t do that again and you will be fine, little customer.” Hizashi then squinted his eyes on his direction as Hioshi brought himself back to his previous position, shoulders tense and straightened back, much different from his previous more slouched pose. Yamada’s eyes got a few inches wider. “You gave him The Talk!” He turned himself to Shouta, his excited sentence, loud enough to probably making his friend deaf, if the black haired adult wasn’t already used with the other’s attics, previously covering his ears before the outburst.

 His response was a grunt, Aizawa dislodging himself from his touch with scoff and half heartedly mumbles, ignoring the confusion on his pupil’s gaze. “Maybe he looks like that because of your total disregarding of personal space.”

 “Don’t worry,” Hizashi put his hand at the side of his mouth, as if he was confiding Shinsou’s a secret. “He only does that because he is worried about you, too. Don’t let yourself to be fooled by his grumpy façade. He is a mother hen at heart.”

 “I am going to lock you outside and give all your CD’s to the kittens a their new toys.” The other threatened, going behind the balcony and turning the coffee machines on, preparing the store to open. The few cats who were already wandering around the place yowled and meowed in despair, as if the blonde hadn’t feed them fifteen minutes ago and they were starving under the hands of such unloving and uncaring creature. Aizawa crouched and distributed the treats hidden on his pockets for everyone of them, nevertheless. His friend used the distraction to mouth a ‘see?’ at the younger’s direction, eliciting a snicker from him, his body language more relaxed.

 “Feel free to do whatever,” Aizawa proclaimed, not staring at the boy, who felt a flower of warmth blossom on his chest. “Just be sure that all your homework is completed by lunch time or the moment you decide to go. Sushi is probably napping now, but when she wakes up, I will warn you.”

 “But first,” Hizashi clapped, capturing the attention as he walked with a dance on his step to the bakeries, taking two plate on his way. “breakfast! For you both. And that means something substantial and not just a cup of coffee.”

 Shinsou startled from the table he decided to place himself, shaking his head. “Yamada-san, it’s okay, you don’t need to-”

 “Nonsense, nonsense! I want to. Eating breakfast alone is just sooo boring, you know?” Hizashi spun on the place, almost throwing the muffins and breads around as Ochaco used his distraction to attack his shoelaces. “Uravity, stop, I need those.”

“Her name isn’t Uravity.” Shouta appeared again, bringing drinks and yawning, his focus changed to the boy’s. “Better give up. I’ve been fighting against him for years now.”

 “Also, her name is Ochaco Uravity Fluffy Second and you just refuse to call her that because you’re just jealous of how much genius I am.”

 “I refuse to call her that because I care for her sanity.”

 “Lies, lies.”

 Hitoshi snorted, hiding his smirk behind his hand. “I prefer his name better, sensei.”

 Aizawa watched them high five between the cheers of the blonde with an unimpressed expression. “Cheeky brat.”

 “You’re just grumpy because he has a good taste. Friendship ended with Shouta, now Shinsou is my new best friend.”

"I am truly devasted." Aizawa deadpanned, taking a long sip of his beverage, hiding his smirk as Shinsou snorted, Yamada's dramatic wailing in the background.

 And, as the playful bickering engulfed them between the warm food and purrs, Hitoshi decided that maybe losing his weekly training wasn’t so bad if that was what waited for him.  

[eclipsing-dreams]

Lab Results

FF.net | AO3.org

Boredom, truly the most dangerous thing of all.

Drakken was bored. Desperately bored and uninspired to be specific, his agitation only growing worse at the knowledge that he shouldn't be. True, Shego had joined him in going "good", but she had also agreed to be his... Well, his... He wasn't sure. He didn't think she was his girlfriend officially, but they were dating. It was all very new and exciting, and embarrassingly fun while still just doing mostly what they had done for years.

The problem lay in his ever-restless mind. Insomnia refused to leave him as he worried over the future. What would he build now? Would he have to stop building altogether and look for a new source of funds? Would he be able to come up with non-death ray ideas? Because right now, his fingers tingled in want to build a death ray.

He sighed, putting down the scraps of wire and metal in front of him as he grabbed for his mug of cocoa-moo. When his hand met with nothing, his mind finally paused as his focus shifted to the missing drink. Turning his head he saw the mug still on his desk, seemingly in the same place. Realizing he still had his magnifying goggles on, he shifted them to the top of his head to see the mug was instead dangerously teetering on the edge. Quickly reaching for the surprisingly still warm mug he hurriedly moved it to a safer location. His persistent frown deepened as he glared at the offending drink. He knew he had placed it down safely. Hadn't he?

He felt the sigh leave his chest as his exasperation with himself only grew.  Pinching the bridge of his nose he closed his eyes and wondered if he should just go back to bed to stare at the ceiling some more. Muttering to himself, he knew it would do no good until he had a new idea. Reaching again for his drink his hand once again touched nothing. Removing his hand from his face he saw the mug once again sitting precariously near the edge of the desk. He blinked hard, twice, just to make sure he was seeing it sit where it had before he'd moved it. Had he fallen asleep and dreamed of fixing it? He wasn't that sleep-deprived yet, was he?

Growing tired of wondering how much of his sanity remained he once again reached for the mug and finished its contents. Carefully he placed the mug inside the top drawer in his desk, not wanting to deal with broken ceramic as well. With his drink gone and his mug safe, his mind shifted back to the project in front of him. Honestly, it was nothing more than spare parts and junk not capable of becoming anything of use. The whole point in tinkering was to get his ideas flowing and even if his sanity was leaving him, his mind was still very much awake.

Moving his goggles back to their proper position, he started sifting through junk pieces to see if any could be repaired. His hand paused as the center of his vision blurred to black, the new sense of panic seeping through him stealing all traces of fatigue. He swallowed thickly focusing on the light he could still see as he moved his hand to remove the goggles, instead he was met with a thick vine in front of his face.

"Great, just great. Exactly what I needed. Move you worthless thing you're in the way!" He grabbed hold of it, only to realize too late it was very much not a vine.

"Excuse me?" Shego sharp tone cut through threw him like a knife, effectively stopping his heart as he realized he held a firm grip on her.

"Shego, I--" He stuttered, having no idea what he'd gotten himself into. Quickly letting go of her, he grabbed for his goggles yanking them off his face to take in the scene before him. There, lounging above his desk was Shego. Laying lazily on her stomach with her head resting on her folded arms, one leg draped over the makeshift hammock made of his own vines. Re-evaluating the events in his head he realized he had mistaken her calf for one of his vines. But why was she in the lab, especially at this hour? And how long had she been here? What...

His trail of thought was suddenly broken, and he was caught off guard as he watched the tip of her foot move until it found one of the pieces of scrap and promptly started nudging it towards the edge of his desk. He frowned realizing she had been the one threatening his mug's safety. The sound of the metal clinking against the floor drew his attention quickly back to her.

"Must you?"

Her grin, which had been casual, quickly changed to mischievous. At this, Drakken quickly remembered there were far worse things than his own boredom. Namely, a bored Shego was pure chaos. This week alone she had caught him off guard in the shower, water gun in hand laughing maniacally as she shot him with pure ice water. Admittedly it was better than her flushing the toilet and burning him, but the shock at seven in the morning was enough to sour his mood the rest of the day.

*clink* *clink* *clink*

He blinked, the sound drawing his attention to the floor where another piece of scrap had joined their fallen companion. Make that companions, as he realized he had zoned out and a small pile had collected on the floor. Returning his annoyed glare to Shego, he noticed her expression now matched his.

"Finally back with me Doc?"

For all the world, all he saw as he looked at her was an annoyed cat. He could practically see the tail twitching and her ears pulled back, her posture an impressive mix of power and relaxation, the panther high in her tree ready for the newest game of cat and mouse.

Shego's heavy sigh snapped him out of his thoughts to see that she was now sitting up, both legs hanging in front of him. She leaned her head on one hand as she extended the other.

"Well, Bud? You gonna help me down or what?"

He felt more than saw the vine extend from his back, betraying his willingness to do whatever she asked of him. She smiled at the vine's quick response knowing he still had trouble when it came to his unconscious behaviors. Using the extended vine as a balance he doubted she needed, she removed herself from the hammock and moved to sit in the section she had cleared off his desk.

"At least one of you is still a gentleman," she teased as she settled herself.

Now comfortably seated to take over his entire workspace, she easily reached forward and pulled him closer. She ran her gloved claws teasingly up the back of his neck as she began to undo his ponytail. Any retort he might have had died in this throat as he felt her claws run lightly from the base of his skull toward his ears. Realizing this, his mind quickly returned to thoughts of her as a cat, all considering how she was easily taking over the situation to put his focus on her. He changed his mind from a panther to a minx. Yes, a minx but deadlier. What was more dangerous than a minx...

Her emerald eyes drew closer as she closed the space between them, attempting to draw him out of his own mind with a kiss. It was obvious she was getting frustrated with his mind wandering away from her. He felt her sigh through her nose as she turned the quick peck into a full kiss. And then after placing one more quick peck on his lips, she moved to his jawline, nipping lightly along the way to his neck.

Drakken was having a difficult time focusing on anything as he felt her teeth tease the skin below his ear. Quite frankly, he had a difficult time understanding her moods most of the time, always speaking in riddles and never giving him a straight answer. His mind caught on to the thought faster than he could try to stop it. She was always consuming literature and spoke mostly in riddles, she was a sphinx!

"Ah!" yelping he pulled away from her, quickly being greeted by a familiar deadly glare.

"You bit my ear!"

"You were ignoring me for your own thoughts."

"..." He rubbed his sore ear and pouted. "Fair..."

Smiling now that she had finally gotten her point across, she resumed kissing him. Leaning back and pulling him onto the desk, she vaguely registered the sound of metal and glass hitting the floor. She felt somewhat bad knowing he would need to fix his goggles after this. Drakken however, didn't seem to notice as he cupped her face and tilted his head to get a better angle.

Running his thumbs across her cheekbones he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth while inviting her to do the same. She readily accepted and grinned, confirming her earlier suspicion that he had been drinking hot chocolate and not coffee. Her claws gently ran across his scalp until they reach the base of his skull and down his back.

As much as he enjoyed the feeling of her gloves he realized he would feel much safer if it was her nails instead. Moving his right hand from her face down her shoulder he slowly made his way to her elbow. He slid his other hand down the side of her jaw to guide her to move her head as he switched tactics and moved to kiss her neck.

Shego felt her cheeks heat up as he slowly ran his thumb along her forearm. Once he felt her glove he slid his thumb under the fabric and continued tracing the center of her forearm until he met her wrist. At the same time, he was definitely going to leave a hickey from the place he had anchored himself right where her jaw met her neck. She felt heat flood over her and wondered if she would catch on fire. Heck, if she tried hard enough she could image smoke. Wait... Her eyes shot open and took in the scene behind him. The noise from early hadn't been the rest of the scraps; the vines had knocked over whatever chemicals he had stored on the shelf and had set fire to a good portion of the wall.

"Drakken!" She felt him smirk against her skin, not catching on it that he was not the reason for her excitement. "Fire!" she tried again.

"Yeah, we are on fire today."

She rolled her eyes and promptly shoved him away, a finger pointing behind him to the vines dramatically trying to flee the fire they had started while also trying to put it out. She saw one had managed to roll the fire extinguisher towards the flames but was too afraid to pick it and give it to them.

"Fire!" Drakken roared as he turned around making his way towards the fire extinguisher. The flowers shrank back at his rage until another chemical became too hot and burst to encompass the wall in flames. The heat now flooded the room, frightening the flowers into pulling themselves from the wall and moving to hide behind Drakken in a strange arch, causing his shadow to look like menacing wings. The flames burned so brightly now that it was hard to focus on anything else. Drakken's rageful shouting could barely be heard over the sound of the now roaring fire. His silhouette was now the only thing she could see of him with the flames illuminating the room. His hands held high above his head looked liked claws, and the illusion of wings created by his vines gave her the vision of a dragon. The fires only added to the image, looking like he had burned his enemies to a crisp and his rage had yet to be quelled.

Shego had taken to leaning back on her elbows, taking in the sight before her. She knew she should have been annoyed or even scolding him for not securing the chemicals as he should have, but watching him rage and forget to lose actual words just had her smiling in affection. He had been far too demure since they had started dating. It felt like he was constantly walking on eggshells around her and she had been trying her best to get back to the comfort level they had been at before the invasion. Pulling pranks, purposefully annoying him, anything to get a reaction out of him. Seeing him here, looking as dangerous as she knew he had the potential to be, really felt like they would finally be able to move on from the awkward faze they had entered. It didn't help

The heat from the fire had already encompassed the lab, but she wasn't too concerned. She had made sure he hadn't skipped out on a high-level extinguisher system, although they should have activated by now. Just then, as the flames began to tickle the ceiling the system activated. Foam sprayed and covered the lab, making it look like a snowstorm had blown through. With the fires successfully put out, she turned her gaze back towards Drakken.

He looked just as put out as the fires as he turned around, shoulders slumped, and started to make his way back towards her. Just as he had taken two steps she felt water drip onto her nose. The sprinklers started and water started to cascade down from the ceiling. At this, she raised one brow at him questioning why the system was malfunctioning. It was only meant to release the foam, adding water to the mix could have started a class D fire.

"You had the henchmen install it to save money, didn't you?"

"Always with the questions you already have the answers to. You really are such a sphinx."

She laughed, a cheshire grin spreading across her face.

"If I'm a sphinx, you're a dragon."

He huffed knowing the moment had been ruined. But Shego wasn't going to let things go that easily.

"And I'm a lady and in great distress," she teased.

He snorted, "A lady you are, a damsel in distress you are not." Shego frowned, hoping he would be willing to play along. Picking up that the mood might not be completely gone, he tried again, "So instead if I'm a dragon, that would make you my greatest treasure."

Surprised at the sweet sentiment, she felt herself blush, but quickly recovered. "Then hoard me."

His mind quickly left to try to visualize such a thing. "That doesn't even make any sense..."

She shut him off by kissing him, quickly trying to pick up where they had left off. Pulling his lower lip into her mouth, she playfully began to nip on it. Relaxing into his hold she felt the sprinklers continuing to go off. A part of her mind she refused to acknowledge made her think of how romantic kissing in the rain felt.

He hummed happily against her, grateful that the mood hadn't been entirely killed. Moving his hands to cradle her neck, he made to deepen the kiss. She happily accepted and matched his intensity. Taking a break for air, he moved down her jaw as he peppered kisses on the way down to her neck. She ran her hands down his back, pressing her still gloved claws against his lab coat. She lazily ran her hands around his shoulders to begin removing the heavy lab coat, claws teasing the sensitive skin of his neck along the way.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

The shrill sound of the fire alarm finally going off caused them both to jump. He sighed and moved his head the rest on her shoulder, already feeling her shaking with laughter. Her laughter turned contagious, and soon he couldn't help it as he started to join in with her. He pulled away to see her biting her lip to try to stop it, but it was no use.

*Pop*

Suddenly as if nothing else could ruin the mood, he felt his yellow ring of petals had returned to frame his face. Shego couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. He quickly lost his composure and joined her, laughing to the point he was grabbing his gut in pain. She reached up to him and cradled his face still trying desperately to stifle her giggles and kissed him poorly as her lips were smiling too much to do any better. She wanted him to understand she wasn't laughing at him, but with him. He tried to kiss her back to let her know that understood, but his own smile and stifled laughter didn't let really him do much more than press his lips to hers. Little did he know, that she was also trying to convey that she loved him.

Laying wet on the desk amidst the chaos the two could hardly breathe as their laughter quelled. Ok, so maybe he couldn't build a death ray anymore, or maybe he could and just sell it off. Regardless, he should have known better than to think his life could ever be boring with Shego in it. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He hadn't been lying earlier when he said she was his greatest treasure, the only one to have laughed with him at not just at him. Even when she had laughed at him, it had never felt as cruel as the others. So perhaps he would hoard her, there in his lab and in his heart.

Meanwhile, Shego knew she had failed yet another attempt at seducing him in the lab. Admittedly it had ended up better than previous attempts as she enjoyed the feel of him wrapped around her. She noticed that his vines had moved to cover them from the sparklers, probably to apologize for the fire in the first place. Or more likely to be nosey like they had earlier. Regardless, it didn't matter. Shego was a stubborn soul, and one day she would get to successfully seduce him in the lab. Tomorrow was another day after all.

Inspired by the lovely works of @cocoa-at-night: 

A kitty and a dragon

Wet babies

Day 67 after the lowardian invasion, dear diary

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Soulsborne!Frozen AU: Great Knight Annatorias, the Abyss Walker

This is @jabs-wocks and @daughterofhel’s fault but I’m also @-ing myself because apparently I don’t need much encouragement to write stories sometimes so…

Before getting started, this entire 3.5k (yes, that's the correct number) brain-on-fire, sleep depriving idea, was inspired by two pieces by @azaffranist and one by twitter user @agongbushou. I highly recommend checking the linked art out before reading, since I reference them at times directly.

Okay Soulsborne!Frozen au, Anna is Knight Artorias, legendary fighter, sent to the Abyss to seek and destroy the Darkness of the world itself.

No pressure or anything.

Anna is a brave hearted woman, shoulder to shoulder with those who fought and killed nigh immortal dragons. Her kind pluck such foul creatures from the sky with arrows larger than trees, with lightning more forked than a hurricane, and slay enemies with the kindness of silver and gold-tipped daggers.

Her own mighty broadsword swings over her left shoulder with ease, a smile on her lips as she walks. The Age of Fire is upon them, but there is fear in the hearts of the gods, and to save those who would, without help, succumb to the evil inside of them Great Knight Anna will stop at nothing.

There are monsters to kill, perverted and misguided souls, each one more disturbing and profane than the last, as each is born from the Abyss itself, a dark, treacherous place where no mortal would dare tread. The city of Oolacile is threatened, sinking slowly into Darkness as an ancient, promethean man eats it from the inside out.

But Anna holds courage in her heart, and should she need a reminder of strength or solace, she need only look to her right and Elsa, her direwolf companion, is next to her, ice-blue eyes speaking more than a voice ever could. Her pure white fur makes the Darkness shrink, her frost-like Light magic a boon in the most murky corridor. Elsa has a nose for danger, and can conjure crystals to warn of dangerous earth, poisoned water, a new rash of weather over the mountains, or the lurking threat of fire. Her pelt is soft and warm, and in the mountains where they camp she’s as cozy as a bonfire, her fluffy tail wrapped around Anna’s middle as the Knight snoozes against her side.

With such skill and determination, and pureness of heart, Anna is more than well equipped to fight the Darkness, especially when Elsa is with her every step of the way.

The Abyss calls itself Manus and it is a nightmare.

For the first time, Anna is overwhelmed. She is battered against the walls of this cave, she is clawed and crushed and flogged with fists of pure Darkness. Her ears ring with primal screams. Elsa’s magic is no more effective than her teeth, and Anna watches as her companion lunges at the Manus’ middle, watches how the Darkness warps impossibly, sees a hand of incredible size form above Elsa’s unprotected back. Anna moves.

She does not feel her arm shatter (that pain will come later) but she hears it, cracking and shredding and splintering, heedless of muscle and skin.

The shield’s magic forces Manus back, screeching into the Dark. A brief respite.

Elsa pants hard, the concussive force of the hit rattling already exhausted bones, empty of energy and magic. Anna knows Elsa will not survive another blow. She is still young, a pup, and deserves to grow, large and strong. A pelt, a life, as bright as Elsa’s should not be swallowed by the Dark.

Anna speaks the runes and the shield ignites with Light, protecting Elsa from the Abyss forever, but also protecting Elsa from following Anna as she hefts her greatsword in her off hand and limps back towards the sound of Manus’ roars. She closes her ears to Elsa’s pitiful cries.

The Dark would not claim another victim.

But it does.

-----

Whatever thou art, stay away.

Soon I will be consumed by ‘Them’, by the Dark.

All of you… forgive me. For I have availed you nothing.

-----

Hundreds of years later Elsa’s ears pick up the sound of an interloper in the graveyard. She rouses herself, shaking rainwater from her coat. The snowflake mark on her brow has dulled, no longer lively purple but a morose kind of brown, the color of bloodied earth long dry.

Elsa is tired. Thieves keep coming to steal what is most precious to her. Could they not see the weapons of their fellows littered on the ground? Monuments to greed, pillars of failure each one of them, a blade planted vertically in the dirt next to small, unmarked headstones. Don’t they see? They seek an object that will only kill them, the wicked artifact that allowed Anna to walk into the Abyss unharmed, only for claws of black to tear her asunder. The cursed item that allowed Anna’s fate.

No one should have the power to throw themselves so willingly onto Death’s sword.

As the thief approaches Anna’s enormous headstone, reaches their hand out to touch Anna’s greatsword, Elsa makes her presence known. She is a formidable sight: a fully grown Great Wolf, she towers, mountainous, over this puny looter. Anger shoots through Elsa, igniting her limbs as she leaps down and tears Anna’s weapon from the dirt. Again. To stop one so desperate to kill themselves. Again.

Elsa howls at the moon, anguish and guilt and fury clashing within her.

Let Anna rest, her work is done. Do not walk in her footsteps, as there lies only suffering.

She repositions the sword in her mouth and swings, long and sweeping as she has seen Anna do many times before.

Blood stains the rocky headstones in crimson arcs.

----

Elsa awakes yet again and everything has changed.

It is dark, unnaturally so. There is no graveyard, there are no trees, no whisper of wind through her coat. She is flat on her back and there is a strange man in a wheelchair to her right, telling her things. Yharnam? An Outsider? He mentions blood and suddenly Elsa’s nose is filled with it, cloying and pressing against her. How had she not noticed it before?

How also had she not noticed she was strapped to a bed?

He begins his so-called transfusion and Elsa sees that her feet do not end in paws and her tail is missing. Her teeth are no longer sharp as she tests them with her tongue and her muzzle does not like to growl but to grumble, too short to carry the sound forward.

But she does not have time to contemplate this as her vision blurs and she falls backwards into the dark once more.

A Beast of blood emerges from the floor but Elsa feels no kinship with it. The Beast is twisted and wrong, and as it reaches out to touch her it bursts into flame, screaming. Perhaps her Light magic still works here… or perhaps Anna’s shield is still bound to her, after all this time. For surely that creature is borne of the Abyss.

So too must these small pygmy-like wretches crawling up her stomach and chest. Fear jolts through Elsa’s heart as these pale things are not deflected by magic and instead reach her head and cover her eyes. A voice whispers in her mind.

“Ah… you’ve found a hunter…”

Anna?

The Hunter’s Dream is serene and soft compared to the Night eating Yharnam alive. Here there are flowers, a pleasant breeze that does not carry wails, and though there are graves it seems a peaceful place of rest for all, not just the dead.

And this is where Elsa finds her.

Anna. Her Knight, her long lost friend, lying against the garden wall. Her eyes are closed, peaceful in sleep. Elsa approaches with great joy but… something is wrong.

Anna… doesn’t smell like Anna. Elsa presses her nose against the woman’s cheek, just to be sure, but is chastised by the man inside a house at the top of the steps, the one who must have brought her here. Elsa remembers a piercing pain in her chest followed by a long dark like a heavy blanket, deep and inevitable. Perhaps she died the night of the thief, and this world is simply the next one. Anna, or perhaps not-Anna, has not stirred in the slightest to Elsa’s presence, and with another beckoning of the old man, Elsa realizes this is a mystery to be put aside for the moment. Besides, Anna is peaceful in this state, and… she was not peaceful the last time Elsa saw her. Maybe this is where she has been sleeping all along, as Elsa watched over her grave in the other world.

Elsa slowly gets used to walking on two legs, though she always misses her tail, expecting it on the back of her calves every other step. She is both taller and shorter than she feels she should be but the little pygmies do not laugh when she misses her target because of this. In fact they are friendly, bringing her trinkets at times. She understands them a little, as they too are non-verbal. Human language still eludes her, though Elsa realizes she has now, the ability to speak it, as clearly and easily as she used to speak to Anna with just her movements. No one seems to mind her silence, and in turn she feels no need to break it.

Except for the Doll.

That’s what the man calls her, the not-Anna. Now awake, she is kind and gentle, and while her warmth kindles familiarity in Elsa’s soul, it is not enough like the bonfire of a spirit Knight Anna always possessed. Though she shares Anna’s face, her voice is thinner, like a creek through reeds, shallow like music from another room. If this is what her Anna has been reduced to, then Elsa will care for her as she always has, her silent companion. But it is the only time Elsa wishes she could speak, align her muzzle and teeth and tongue in the right order for speech. But she, the Doll… Anna… this woman, seems to read Elsa’s eyes well enough, and always wishes her wellness and luck in her hunts.

The Yharnam Elsa now stalks may be new, but it is not unfamiliar. There are monsters here too, but they are not undead but Beasts, sick like the Darkness made humans sick. The town conjures a feeling of familiar unease, it is like Oolacile being consumed all over again. Elsa has been given a strange blade: a cane-sword, they called it a trick weapon. It has a different kind of grace than Anna’s greatsword, but Elsa can admire its stinging, erratic bite as it curls around shields and tears flesh with the same ease as her old jaw.

Elsa resigns herself to the Doll, this copy of Anna, a pale comparison but not an unkind one. Until the day she learns of Lady Anna, an Old Hunter, experienced slayer, and roaming ghost of Yharnam. The man tells Elsa that Lady Anna wishes to exterminate Beasts so that people can live in peace, forever, and she is as ruthless as she is discerning, relentless in her quest. Even the Doll has nothing but admiration in her too-soft voice for this person.

Elsa needs to meet this her, and sets out immediately. She sounds… very much like Great Knight Anna: firmly set in her beliefs and desire for goodness and peace in her grisly work, but Elsa swallows the glass-like shards of hope rising in her throat. Disappointment would be its own kind if dying.

She finds her in the Clock Tower. The likeness is uncanny, but if the Doll was an enthusiastic replacement, this body was a carbon copy. The swallowed glass gets lodged, stabbing into Elsa’s heart, but still, she dared not hope. This person, Lady Anna, was so… still. Knight Anna was never still, so much boundless energy, so much eagerness, the will to do good, to make safe haven, sometimes even robbed her of sleep. The woman sitting in a lonesome chair is not like that at all, she is calm, collected.

Perhaps she is dead.

Indeed, Lady Anna is covered in blood and Elsa does not see her chest breathe, not even an inch. Tentatively she reaches out a hand. Oh, now this would be cruel indeed - to find her Knight only for her to be dead and bloodless and empty of everything once again.

The vice-like grip around her wrist shocks Elsa from her thoughts.

“A corpse… should be left well alone.” A corpse, a corpse!? But Lady Anna is so very alive and her voice--

Unmistakable.

But quickly Elsa realizes she’s fighting for her life. There’s so much noise and movement and blood, so much blood it reeks. Lady Anna’s swings seem to come from nowhere, fire igniting in the wake of every slash and it’s dazzling and swift and uncanny… and yet.

Her stance may be foreign but her prowess is not, she directs her weapons with grace and skill, and the blades dance towards Elsa’s throat with a precision borne from battle hardened assurance.

Just like a knight. Just like Anna with her greatsword.

Suddenly Lady Anna is upon her, grabbing Elsa’s collar and pulling, clutching Elsa to her chest. It’s rough and unfriendly but Elsa knows deep down this is new and startling for both of them. Anna’s breathing is ragged despite her absolute dominance over the battlefield, her voice shaking with some burdening magnitude.

“I know you,” Lady Anna whispers in her ear.

And Elsa, having not made a sound this entire time except in exhaustion or pain, gets her too short tongue working and too small teeth out of the way to say, “And I know you. You are Lady Anna, protector of Yharnam, slayer of the Darkness that lurks in the hearts of men to make them Beasts, and you have done well to make a name for yourself here. But all of that I know only because I found myself here, in a Dream. When I was young, and Awake, I knew you as Great Knight Anna, warrior against the Darkness itself, and you held in your powerful grip a sword as tall as you so that you could always slay something larger than yourself. It flashed as brightly as your smile until it could no more. And the last I saw you was when I had no shared language to warn you, no voice to scream in grief as your arm shattered and yielded to profane horror. Despite your broken body you used your only able limb to shield me against death itself, magical and eternal. But it kept me from you, and you walked back into the Dark where I could not follow and then there was the most terrible quiet. I saw someone go in afterwards, and only then did I hear your voice again, but as it was never meant to be: broken and hollow and defeated. Dark.”

Lady Anna’s hand shakes, her other poised over Elsa’s heart. It could drive right through her chest, seek the Beast in Elsa’s blood and rip it out. But perhaps it was there before the infusion, one of kindred spirit instead of illness and madness. Anna releases her hold without warning and Elsa’s knees hit the ground hard.

“I… have felt a loneliness for so long,” Lady Anna says, almost to herself. “I have searched for years, every nook and cranny, guided by nothing but some deep knowledge of a phantom ‘other’ by my side, etched so deeply it could be in my very own blood. But this presence, this… twin soul, has never showed itself.” She looks at her swords. “They did not used to split, it was one weapon, until I could not stomach the void anymore. I threw it away, and fashioned these. They… somehow I knew I needed two. There were supposed to be two. Two… of… us.”

Elsa goes to answer but the words tangle in her mouth, gargled and guttural and rough. Speech flees from her again, focus gone, and Elsa clutches her throat, gasping. Lady Anna twitches, hands tightening on her weapons.

Anna’s voice holds the tension of a tripwire. “You--... She... I gave someone a name once. My closest friend. She had unique Light magic: small diamonds, blue, beautiful.” Her eyes flashed with her steel. “Show me. Tell me her name, or be not Hunter but Beast.”

And Elsa does.

The Clock Tower fills with floating diamonds, glittering and bright, etched with symbols of safety and protection and Light. They move and spin, arranging themselves into a shape, not a Yharnam rune but an older one, one only Anna would know. Elsa’s name in the language of the Age of Fire.

Anna drops her swords, clattering to the floor and embraces Elsa with arms so fierce and desperate that Elsa cannot breathe, until Anna’s shoulders slump and hitch with sobs and now Elsa holds Anna with tired, grateful hands.

“I thought…,” Anna manages, trembling in Elsa’s grasp, “I thought it was a Dream. All that before… really happened.” Anna clutches at Elsa’s clothes, like burying fingers in thick fur, “I have missed you every moment of my death, including all the seconds from when I Awoke without you, until now.”

Elsa wipes Anna’s tears away, clumsy in her joy but her eyes say everything her stubborn tongue won’t, and it is just like before, when she knows Anna understands her completely.

“In my defense,” Anna sniffs, regaining a bit of control, “I thought you’d be taller. And well, you were a wolf the last time we met.”

Elsa can’t help but smile at that, lending Anna an arm as they stand. The smile turns into quite the wolfish grin indeed when they realize at the same time that Elsa is in fact, an inch or so taller than Anna.

“You really did grow up without me, didn’t you?” Anna says wistfully, as though to chastise for leaving her behind.

Elsa makes a huffing sound that they both know is laughter and presses her forehead against Anna’s.

Finally. Her Knight. Her Lady.

Her home.

This time, neither will face the Darkness alone.

------

Alternate Endings, courtesy of questions asked by @daughterofhel (who patiently let me tell the ENTIRE story of Artorias and Sif AND the Good Hunter and the Doll and Lady Maria to contextualize this… entire… thing)

-Lady Maria!Anna is not immune to Beast blood like in canon and after joining up with Sif!Elsa actually succumbs to the plague and goes feral. Their roles are now reversed, Elsa is the badass Hunter with a Beast companion. They still know each other well enough to communicate but are ostracized from the other Hunters because Elsa refuses to kill Anna

-Because Elsa was a creature in her past life, the Beast blood takes hold very naturally, and it does not change her personality or sense of self. Lady Anna reclaims her greatsword trick weapon and travels Yharnam with Elsa by her side, now a were-beast. The magical snowflake on her forehead comes back and her fur is the same white/white-blonde as when she was a Great Wolf

-Lady Anna actually DOES rip Elsa’s heart out of her chest like that killer parry (for female Hunters only!), realizing seconds too late she has killed her life long friend who crossed time and space to find her. Distraught, Lady Anna consumes Elsa’s heart, drawing upon her vampiric, Vileblood ancestry to bond Elsa’s soul to hers. Other Hunters begin to hear rumors of a unique Beast stalking Yharnam, slaying it’s own kin and leaving behind oceans of blood. It has patchy red and white fur, a greatsword strapped to it’s back, and two different colored eyes: one green, one blue. Some even claim that it speaks to itself, though broken and twisted, and it will leave a trail of blue-glowing diamonds in areas safe to return to, lighting up the dark.

Players who fight this Beast are startled to learn that the heat-up phase is actually the Beast transforming into a much smaller, very human figure who begins to wield the trick weapon on its back with swift, deadly, and ferocious attacks. The figure will sometimes scale walls and launch attacks from above, the air along the cut of the weapon’s blade igniting into flame and leaving explosive blue crystals behind. Upon the boss’s defeat the player gets double the amount of Blood Echos they expect and as the person collapses a white soul emerges to entwine around a red one, dissipating into the ether together

[callowed]

🎞️ and 🗑️

Memories- Open

🎞- A memory that never fails to come back to their mind, good or bad

The night he met Her is forever burned into his memory. He thinks about it when he sings Her praises, and he reflects on it whenever he notices even the idea of defiance. It serves as a reminder, and a warning. There are mixed feelings surrounding it, the strongest among them being awe, confusion, excitement, and terror.

He had been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. The tiniest little crack in their guard was all he needed; he was more than ready to die fighting, bring all of them down with him, than risk rotting in a cell. So he waited, and listened, anticipating the perfect moment to strike.

What happened next, however, he could have never expected.

It was sudden- a massive, bone-white talon pierced the hull of his transport on the side just opposite of him. It anchored itself into the ship, and another impact followed soon after. The next talon that pierced the hull also punctured the guard that was unfortunate enough to be standing in its way, and Tyrian had a front-row seat to witness it tear through the man’s chest. A surprised grin cracked across the faunus’s face at the sight; this certainly wasn’t the sort of crack he was expecting, but it would certainly do the trick. The other officers began to scramble, to assess the situation, to request assistance over the radio, to fight off whatever was attacking their ship. Panicked.

Perfect.

The moment he was no longer under direct supervision, he began to wriggle free from his bindings. His arms were bound against his tail behind his back, so attempting to break them by biting them or busting them over his knee was out of the question. Without hesitation, he got to work on his favorite party trick as the ship continued to sustain damage around him. The air was thick with tension, he could feel it. The frantic shouts of the remaining guards all bled together in the chaos.

He didn’t get the chance to dislocate his arm before another massive gash was made in the transport, this one large enough to tear it in half entirely.

And then he was falling.

Activating his aura was his first instinct, but after doing that he still had several seconds of freefall to contemplate his situation. It was the dead of night, but despite his poor vision he could tell that the mass of black that surrounded the falling debris was not merely sky. It was alive. There must have been more Grimm in that swarm than he had seen in his entire life. It gave him a bit of peace of mind, to know that his end would be not at the hands of law, but to be torn apart and consumed by the very darkness he held dear.

The impact shattered his aura instantly, and although he managed to avoid the majority of the flaming shrapnel raining from the sky, several smaller pieces of metal sliced deeply into his exposed torso. Where most would see only death, though, Tyrian saw opportunity. He positioned himself over one of the twisted, jagged pieces of wreckage, and began to use it to saw into his restraints. With a snap, the bindings finally gave into the pressure, the metal nicking his arms a little in the process. He did not believe he could escape the oncoming onslaught, but he would die a free man.

He was beginning to lose a great deal of blood from his injuries, and was more than happy to simply sit back and watch the flames that seemed to stretch into infinity, watch the Grimm tear the crew to pieces. Fitting that his life should end in flames, just as it began. He was close to where the cockpit end of the ship had fallen, and although the officers that had survived the crash had noticed him, they were far too preoccupied to worry about him. One stood mere feet away from him. Tyrian watched intently as a Griffon tore into him, painting the faunus with his blood as he became a completely unrecognizable mess of viscera. To witness such raw carnage firsthand, Tyrian would die with no regrets. He did not close his eyes as the Grimm that would surely kill him approached; no, he stared right back into those soulless, burning red eyes and smiled.

The violent end he had expected never came. The Griffon had stared him down, obviously seen him, and turned away from him in favor of other targets. It didn’t make sense. Another Grimm approached swiftly- a Nevermore- it landed right before him, and he saw a pale figure descend gracefully off of its back. She walked calmly amongst the wreckage and bloodshed, as if She were born into it.

He simply watched as She approached the remaining survivor, still frantically shouting into the radio. As the man turned to face what approached him, Tyrian did not need to be able to make out the details of his face to know that all of the color had drained from it.

“What are you...” he spoke shakily, and the Nevermore took a bite out of him. It could have killed him in one blow, but it didn’t. Cruel. Marvelous. “What are you!?” the man began to scream, repeating those words as the Grimm continued to tear chunks out of him until blood gargled his speech into incomprehension, and he finally collapsed. Dead.

The figure turned to him, pale as the snow that surrounded them. But what stood out most to him were Her eyes. They burned crimson, not unlike what he had seen in the Grimm, but Hers was somehow deeper. Darker. As if there was some unfathomable malice that burned behind them. Tyrian felt a surge of abject horror rush through every inch of his body when Her eyes met his. She was terrifying. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Beautiful....” was the only word Tyrian could manage to choke out, before falling to his knees before Her. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth on his face that he noticed the tears that were streaming down it. He had seen Her control the Grimm; even now, Her hand rested on the bony faceplate of the Nevermore he had seen tear into a man without hesitation mere moments before. He thought the Grimm were uncontrollable, a brutal force of nature that could not be reasoned with, or swayed from their singular goal of destruction. It was something he had always admired about them. So what, then, could possibly hope to control nature itself? Perhaps.... a God?

“Tyrian Callows.”

Her words cut through his reverie, leaving his mind completely blank. Her voice was velvet. Elegant, yet sharp. Most importantly, though, She knew his name. Even if Tyrian had any words, he found himself incapable of speaking; absolutely awestruck by Her ethereal presence. She continued to speak, those blood-red eyes gazing down at him as he remained on his knees, bleeding out in the snow.

“It would be a waste for a man of your talents to be deprived of a proper stage. I have a proposition for you.”

Tyrian didn’t consider refusing whatever She offered him, even for a second.

🗑- A silly situation that still makes them laugh

Answered! [And this post is already way too long anyways]

[borhapparker]

burning hearts  |  firefighter!ben hardy x firefighter f!reader

summary: stumbling across a burning building, you come face to face with a very good looking firefighter, who not only takes your breath away, but manages to save you after a wannabe-hero stunt goes wrong.

a/n: the ending is sucky,, im so sorry,, but enjoy nonetheless!

masterlist  |  send me fic prompts/ideas

‘Well, there goes an hour I will never get back’ you think to yourself as you walk out the restaurant, the coldness enveloping you as you adjust your jacket around you.

The date that your friend had set you up with could’ve gone better, seeing as the guy never showed up. She had told you that he was a good guy, someone she used to like and was never late. 

‘A gym freak too, c’mon Y/n, you’ll love him!’ she had said.

You pulled your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, opening up the messages with your friend before texting her four words you had engraved in your brain over the hour-wait. I told you so.

As you walked towards the direction of your house, you heard screaming, and.. a smell. A distinct odor wafted in your direction as you looked up, noticing people running towards something. Your curiosity got the better of you as you slipped your phone in your pocket, heading over in the direction you saw people running to.

Your eyes widened at the sight, the sudden warmth enveloping you as you gasped audibly. A fire had consumed most of the third and fourth floor of an apartment complex, as you looked around, noticing people pointing and on the phone. In the distance, you heard the sirens of a fire truck as you quickly ran across, asessing the damage the fire had done to the building.

In your mind, you knew what to do already. You had been prepared for this kind of thing, seeing as it has been your job for the past three years. The only reason you were in LA was for a transfer that was supposed to happen in two days, but seemed like destiny wanted it to happen tonight.

“Does anyone have a rag and a water bottle?” you asked around as everyone shook their heads, some too preoccupied to pay you any attention. The sirens were louder now, as you heard the screech of wheels before turning around, and spotting the firefighters quickly getting out of their truck, one grabbing the hose and another slipping on a mask. They turned to their captain, as you eyed one of the masks on the side of the engine, before running over and grabbing it.

“Hey! What are you-” you tuned out their voices as you slipped off your purse and slipped the mask over your face.

Without another word, you ran into the building, the screaming intensifying as the crowd watched you run into the burning building. Taking deep breaths, you ran up the stairs, before reaching a closed door. Hovering your hand over the knob to determine the level of the fire, you realized it was cold, as you gripped it and swung the door open, the smoke engulfing your line of vision. You moved quickly, running down the hall as you helped people to the door, instructing them to run downstairs and outside as quickly as possible.

A young woman, in her early twenties, had a rag placed over the head of her child as she almost fell running to the door, as you grabbed her arm and helped her. Someone took your place as you turned, noticing the familiar uniform of the captain.

“What are you doing? Get out of here!” he screamed at you as you shook your head, determination coursing through your veins as you helped them get the civilians out of the building.

A young boy shielded his eyes from the smoke, screaming out for his mom as you ran over to him, unstrapping the mask from your face before slipping it over his and pointing to the door. With the material of your blouse, you covered your mouth and nose, before helping them with the rest of civilians. The barks of a dog were heard in the distance as you ran, kicking down the door of an apartment as a puppy was hunched over on the other side. Your instincts kicked in, your arms wrapping around the body of the puppy before taking off int he opposite direction, holding the puppy close to your body as you ran downstairs and outside, the fire being contained by the firefighters.

Placing the puppy down, you took off again, helping everyone else as a mother turned to you, eyes wide in fear and tears streaming down her face. Her arms clutched yours as you turned to her.

“My daughter! She’s upstairs in her room! She’s deaf, and didn’t hear the alarm go off! Please help her!” you nodded as she told you the apartment number, “56B.”

Taking off up the stairs, you took two at a time, before covering your nose and mouth again. Looking at the placards on the doors, you got closer, as the smoke burned your eyes and blocked your vision.

49A, 50A, 51B, 52A, 52B, 53A, 54B, 55A, 55B, 56B

Heading to the door, you quickly kicked it down, noticing a little girl hunched over on the floor, covered in soot as you quickly tapped her. She looked up, coughing vigorously as you instructed her to cover her mouth and nose before you pushed her out the door and she ran.

Running around the apartment, you looked at the other rooms, making sure there was no one there as you started coughing.

The smoke had gotten into your lungs as you struggled to breathe, your brain going into autopilot as you tried to get out as quick as possible. Suddenly, a piece of wood from the ceiling came falling down as it blocked your exit. Your eyes widened in fear as you covered your mouth and coughed again.

It seemed like there was no way out, before you heard yelling.

LAFD! Is there anyone here?

You turned to the sound of the voice over the crackling of fire as you uncovered your mouth and screamed as loud as you could. Footsteps got closer as it got harder to breathe and you dropped to your knees.

At the entrance of the apartment, blue eyes scanned the perimeter, before he made his way inside, ax in hand and his partner behind him. Turning, he followed his instincts, his partner heading in the opposite direction and taking the ax with him.

His eyes scanned the room, before noticing a spot of color on the ground, a piece of wood in the way of him. Craning his neck, he noticed you, the girl who had stolen their mask, struggling to breathe as he called out to his partner.

“One more!”

His partner brought the ax down onto the piece of wood as it broke, before he made his way over, quickly picking you up in his arms and pressing your face against his jacket. He ran out of the apartment, his partner close behind as he headed to the stairwell, and outside.

His feet took him straight to the paramedics outside, as he placed her down in the ambulance, a nurse heading to her straight away and placing an oxygen mask over her mouth. 

He slipped off his mask and coughed, as another gave him a mask, breathing in the clean air into his lungs. His blue eyes scanned her, looking for anything that might indicate she was hurt as his gaze found nothing before he neared her. His footsteps alerted her as she looked up, hand on the mask against her mouth as she slightly smiled at him.

Pulling the mask from her face, she tried to speak as she coughed before placing it over her mouth and breathing in. “Thank you,” her voice came out muffled as he nodded in return.

His captain walked over, concern etched on his features as he looked at her with anger and confusion. “What the hell was that and who are you?”

She placed a finger up, as they waited for her. She breathed in and out before taking the mask off. “Are you Captain Lee?” she asked as he nodded, “Y/n Y/l/n, at your service.”

“You’re the firefighter who’s supposed to join us in two days?” he asked, as she nodded, placing the mask over her mouth once more. “Well, that was a hell of an introduction.”

Nodding, you kept breathing the clean oxygen as the firefighter by your side did the same.

“Y/n, you won’t be coming in till next week and that’s an order.” Captain Lee said as you nodded in confirmation, turning to the blue-eyed firefighter who had rescued you. “Oh, this is Ben Hardy. He’s part of the crew.”

He stuck his hand out as you shook it, smiling and nodding. “Thank you,” you coughed out as he smiled.

Both of you let go, as you sat down on the edge of the ambulance, Ben taking a seat next to you. He looked at you, as you leaned on his shoulder, the adrenaline spike dying down as your eyes slowly started to close. His arm went over your head and around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him as you absorbed the warmth his body was producing, all while inhaling clean oxygen, trying to get your lungs to work again.

Ben felt grateful to get the chance to hold an angel, even if said angel was covered in soot and trying to get her lungs to work again. He enjoyed the feeling of another body close to his, given as to how long he had been deprived of said feeing. Being a firefighter was never easy, knowing his job was dangerous and life-threatening was another reason he never gave himself time to enjoy the little things.

But with you in his arms, he pushed away those thoughts and let himself live for just a couple more minutes.

The team managed to soothe the flames, sparks of the fire slowly turning to embers as the water calmed the chaos. Yet, the burning in your heart remained, as long as Ben was by your side.

Fire has always been seen as something dangerous, risky, and sometimes even fueled to kill. Yet, fire also symbolized the energy given to someone courageously stepping towards transformation. Transformation, wether good or bad, can mean change.

And who knows, maybe change may be a good thing.

-

tags:

@supernaturalee @bens-hardy @spidergirlwanab @benhardyisdaddy @bennyblueberry @borhap-socials @bohemian-blasphomy @gwilymz @gwilyoubemine @borhap-professorsau @queenmercurys @queens-n-roses @queen-irl-af @queenscoolcat @alwaysbenhardysgirl @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @hardyzello @hardyscult​ 

[kuriquinn]

The Job Offer [part 2]

General Disclaimer

Rating: PG 13

Author’s Note: I was planning to do all random one-shots that weren’t connected to anything. But this was the only thing I could think of writing when I saw the prompt was “medicine”. So...here’s the next part of that mafia fic I started like two years ago. If you want to read the first part, you can find it here.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“So, I hear you’re refusing your medication unless I give it to you,” Sakura says as she enters the private room without preamble, two IV bags in hand. “Care to share why? And it better not be some macho, stoic bullshit.”

She should probably be a little more polite, but she’s way beyond sleep deprived at this point.

Uchiha Sasuke is propped up in his bed, glaring at her. His chest is a swath of thick bandages, turning what she has learned is a stunning physic into a comically shapeless square. They are incongruent with the vibrant colours of sleeve tattoos that depict snakes winding up either arm against a black background with red clouds. She knows there’s something on his back, too, but she was a little too preoccupied with his life-saving surgery at the time to identify it; some kind of bird.

“Your people are refusing to allow my men in here. I can’t be sure I’m not being poisoned.”

“After the show they put on in the emergency room, they’re lucky they’re even allowed in the waiting room,” she grumbles and begins to set the bags into the apparatus. “Why do you trust me not to poison you? I mean, you’ve been a bit of a pain since I met you, so you’d totally deserve it…”

She chances a glance over at her patient, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked in. She has a brief moment of being lost in endless black, and then he turns away with a noncommittal noise.

“You’ve already proven you have principles. Since a dozen Uchiha-gumi couldn’t make you waver, I doubt anything else could.”

He goes quiet, staring at the wall with a slight frown in his forehead, and long bangs framing his face rather fetchingly despite the fact he probably hasn’t had a chance to wash his hair in three days.

He is really, unfairly and ridiculously pretty.

Sakura swallows at that thought, hastily grabbing for his chart so he doesn’t catch her looking.

No! None of that! Bad idea! That is the worst idea. Just look at his arms, they tell you exactly why this is a bad idea!

“What are you giving me, anyhow?” he asks. “I don’t allow just anything in my body.”

“I’m trying not to find that ironic,” Sakura quips. “Anyhow, these are your next round of antibiotics and painkillers—and no, it’s not morphine, you already made it clear to my interns what you thought about that.”

“As I said.”

“Yeah, well, you could have been a little nicer about it. I think Dr. Ise is about to go to the administration and tender his resignation because of you. And they’re in enough of a tizzy already, they’d accept it.”

Uchiha watches her face, and something flashes in his gaze.

“You haven’t had any issues, have you?” he asks, frowning. “With regards to your employment?”

Sakura’s cheeks flame. “You mean since your boys were trying to intimidate Senju-sensei and the rest of the Board of Directors?”

“It would be remiss of them to suspend your privileges considering the situation.”

“Do you know how much of a problem their interference could be for me?!”

“Was it effective?”

“In this case…yes,” she admits grudgingly. He smirks at that, like he predicted this, and she clenches her fists. “But the Board’s going to make my life hell in other ways from now on! Constant reviews and check ins and…” She sighs, reigning in her temper. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you’re making my life more complicated—”

“Complicated enough to leave?” he suggests, and there’s something too blank about his face just then.

Suspicion rears its head, along with a memory of the night they met.

“So what? Just come work for me.”

“I’m not quitting my job. I have responsibilities—"

“Take a sabbatical,” he suggests. “I’ve heard that’s common among the medical profession, either due to burnout or the desire to research areas of interest.”

“Not to go work for the mob!”

He doesn’t appear to hear her. “You doctors engage in research, right? Life-saving practices, new methods?”

“…Yes?”

“And that requires funding, if I understand it. Which is difficult to come by, considering you don’t exactly get paid much…”

Sakura narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“I consider it more of an investment.”

“No offense, but even if I were at the point in my career where I was trying to get funding for something, I’d rather not have the money attached to my name and methods be dirty. Especially not if I want to be taken seriously.”

“We maintain entirely legal businesses,” he dismisses. “My branch of the family has a thriving private security business, which has been very lucrative so far. Any funding you receive through us would be through legal channels and with clean funds.”

Sakura blinks, not entirely sure she’s understanding what she’s hearing.

“Why are you trying so hard to recruit me?”

“You have a good image.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not like that,” he rolls his eyes. Then as if in opposition to what he just said, his gazes flicks up and down in a way that has her blushing and torn between wanting to cover up in a blanket or shrug out of her scrubs in front of him.

Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You are small and unassuming,” he continues. “No one would know to look at you that you’re anything more than that. And in addition to being able to fight, you have medical skills and respect discretion. In my experience, that is hard to come by without a lot of money being thrown around. And money doesn’t buy loyalty. You already have principles, so money wouldn’t be necessary. You’re a warrior and a healer. That’s valuable.”

“I…”

What the hell do I say to that?

“As it happens, I’m looking for another member of my security team. Suigetsu’s wife is having a baby soon, and she’s demanding. I don’t see him being able to maintain his commitments to my schedule for the next little while. You have no family connections or commitments to speak of, nor any time-consuming romantic relationships most women your age do.”

“How the— how do you know that?! Are you— did you have someone look into me?”

She’s entirely thrown off balance by this.

“My brother is very thorough. He and my parents wished to make sure of your credentials.” There aren’t many yakuza that the general populace are able to name off the top of their head, but Uchiha Itachi is one of them. If any of the stories about him are true… “You will likely meet him when I’m permitted to leave here.”

Sakura is only just able to hold back the choke of fear, but her patient notices, nonetheless.

“There’s no need for you to worry about him,” he says, bored. “He already likes you, from what Suigetsu told him. Something amuses him about the fact you can—what’s the expression? ‘Get me to take my medicine’? Anyhow, he’ll have a formal offer of employment drawn up for you.”

He is looking at her with a superior look, as if to say, this hospital may be your kingdom, but I have my own domain.

That confidence is simultaneously terrifying and sexy in a way it shouldn’t be.

“You may have time to consider the proposition,” he tells her, indicating the door; a clear dismissal.

Sakura bristles a little at that, irritated. “And if I still decline?”

He shrugs. “Then you decline. I’m not about to have your fingers cut off because you’ve done something I don’t like.” His eyes rest on her hands, then flick up to her with something indecipherable in them. “That would be a waste.”

And then he smiles.

Sakura feels a surge of want slam into her and oh, whether she takes the job or not, this is not going to turn out well for her, is it?

栗

[ocpd96]

Seizures Are The Easiest Aspect of Epilepsy (Part IV)

It’s truly horrible feeling like you have to convince someone your chronic illness exists, that your symptoms and behaviour are justified... every day in class I get severe anxiety, because in my mind this sentence plays on repeat: 

“I wish they knew how hard even the simplest of tasks are for me so they’d understand why I’m like this. I’m not dumb or lazy. I’m trying harder than anyone could possibly imagine. My brain is literally working against me every step of the way. There is no such thing as a cure or remission for me. I’m going to have to fight every day for the rest of my life.”

Because here are just some symptoms of my chronic conditions/med side effects that I experience on a daily basis:

Conscious shaking fits - basically with no warning my arms and/or legs shake uncontrollably for anywhere up to an hour 

Extreme fatigue - I drink energy drinks and take caffeine pills every day to keep myself alert during the daylight hours

Severe insomnia - I have to take benzos (heavy duty prescription drug) to knock myself out otherwise I stay awake for days on end

Night terrors (when I do sleep) - horrifyingly vivid and realistic dreams about being raped, tortured, murdered, and/or watching those I love die in brutal ways. The terrors are so immersive that I often scream/kick/punch in my sleep and cannot be woken up, I’ve had 4 people pin me to the ground before, one on each limb, after I fell asleep and started thrashing and hurting myself. And when I do finally wake up of my own accord... I often don’t know what is real and what isn’t, because I feel the ghost sensation of the pain I endured (example: once I was burnt alive in the terror and I woke up feeling the pain of a fresh burn from an open flame). Only this morning I watched the love of my life die slowly, bloodied and mangled, drifting in and out of consciousness as I begged him to stay with me for a few more minutes, and I stayed collapsed over his lifeless body, holding him tight until he became stone cold, until I finally woke up sobbing... I have experienced the death of every person I love a hundred times over.

Loss of appetite - I have to take multivitamins, immuno-boosters, iron supplements, protein & fibre drinks every day to give my body the nutrients it is being deprived of... (I’ve lost 10kg without trying and it’s not actually a good thing)

Nausea - fun fact: when I’m sick my sensory sensitivity increases exponentially 

Body weakness - sometimes I can’t even lift my arms above my head to tie my hair 

Sensory sensitivity - certain colours, sounds, smells, movements, sensations, and lights; the severity fluctuates ranging from making me feel sick or tripped out to complete body shut down mode where I become comatose covering my eyes and ears, laying on the floor in the fetal position.

Memory problems - I can no longer retain information the way I once did... My family used to call me Rain Man because my memory was so sharp and precise; now it feels like I’ve been robbed. Embedding something into my long-term memory is beyond a struggle.

Comprehension problems when it comes to academia - it’s like my brain is consumed by fog, I used to be able to understand information almost instantaneously, now it takes me quadruple the time and a ridiculous amount of conscious effort and energy for my brain to work through things.

Non-existent focus - I used to have laser focus, I could sit in a room full of people talking, there could be TVs on in front of me, music playing, lots of movement, and my eyes would not leave my desk for hours on end. Now I can be set up in the ultimate perfect study room and I can’t even stay on task for 5 minutes. My concentration is fucked no matter how many new methods I try!

Pain - I’m constantly in pain, my muscles are permanently fucked from all of my seizures and injuries, I even have nerve damage as a result of them.

Stabbing - another version of pain, but more specific... at random unexpected times it feels like a knife is being driven through my heart, it’s so sudden and intense that it takes me breath away and often brings me to my knees

Hallucinations

Lack of co-ordination

Sexual dysfunction - I’m a nymphomaniac who has lost all sensation, I can no longer feel any pleasure from any of my erogenous zones, let alone orgasm

.......and that’s not mentioning any of the symptoms of my OCPD, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, or actual seizures!!

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Do You Want to Melt in My Flames?”

Summary: More and more news are arriving of a potential magical war breaking out thanks to the Ancestral Witches' hunger for power and Marion is so tired of having to be composed and calm with all that burden on her shoulders because that's the proper behavior of a queen. She just wants to fall into Oritel and the inner world the two of them share where her fiery nature is appreciated and not frowned upon. Very unsafe for work. Part 1 of “Creatures of Fire and Crowns”.

I have zero idea where this idea came from but it really insisted to be written so here you have it. First time writing a Marion/Oritel-centric story so I will really appreciate the feedback.

The door opened and the sound of his steps had a smile crawling on her face even with all the raging thoughts in her head that slowed down and retreated a little as his presence washed over her, pulling her feelings for him forward instead. And she could focus on that because the night was theirs and she didn’t have to be queen until the morning. She could be his.

Her fingers finally stilled, stopping their torture of her vanity. “Took you long enough,” she said–not blaming him since she knew that being king left him unable to control some things–as she got up from her chair, the nightgown she was wearing so much lighter than her royal attire and allowing her to move faster and easier.

She got to him in no time and wrapped her arms around his neck to feel his coming to rest on her hips and it was heavenly after being deprived of his touch all day. Even if they weren’t drowned in the problems peeking on the horizon, they were always surrounded by people and couldn’t fall into each other so she appreciated the feeling of him leaning into her now that they were alone at last.

“I’m here,” he said now that he was free of the royal duties that had kept him away from her, his voice gentle and reassuring. He gave her a smile that was a very much appreciated reminder of how profoundly hers he was since no one else ever got to see it and raised a hand to cup her cheek.

Normally, she would let herself enjoy the contact but today it just wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted all he would give and, luckily for her, that was everything.

She pulled him into a kiss, her hands sliding over his arms to feel the muscles underneath and her tongue teasing over his lips before he opened them for her and let his breath fill her lungs. She melted in his embrace as he pulled her closer, his hand on her back and pressing her into him while the other one slid off her face and down her neck, looking to spark her desire. The teasing touch of his warm skin sent a shiver through her that shook her whole body like the roar of a dragon and awoke every part of her being, setting free her love and hunger for him.

She pulled away to breathe, the need so consuming that she had to do something, had to feed it or it would eat her whole. And those moments left her feeling more like a dragon rather than a human being, powerful, unhinged and fiery, with passion exploding from her and sweeping away everything in its way, but he was never afraid. He just held on to her and left himself in her hands, trusting that her spark would keep him warm instead of destroying him, and she needed to touch every part of his body, leave traces of her heat all over him and make him hers even though he already was. She wanted him to lose control along with her.

She grasped at his crown and got it off of him–it was always the first to go, making the corners of his lips twitch up at the sign of possessiveness as he was now hers and not the kingdom’s ruler–tossing it in the direction opposite of the bed. She didn’t want either one of them stepping on it when they were too consumed with each other and getting hurt as they had to pull away to deal with a wound left by it. It was torturous enough as it was with its weight and the small sigh that left Oritel made her crave to hear it shatter but she knew not to hold her breath. The plush carpet that covered the entire floor and was just as heavy would absorb the impact and make the landing soft like it was a cloud she’d placed the crown on instead of throwing it carelessly to the ground.

She moved to take off the golden belt as well, making quick work of it to free Oritel from the role of the king he’d been stuffed into. It yielded instantly under her deft touch, allowing her to move on to the white cloth underneath and get rid of it and the royal family crest framed in gold  at the top of it. Next was the metal headpiece which she had to move out of his grasp to set aside but she was quickly in front of him again, the fur cape falling off his shoulders as she unfastened it, Oritel keeping still and making the process of undressing him easier and quicker.

She’d hated all the parts of his outfit, for it’d used to take her forever to get rid of them and she hadn’t wanted to use magic and make him feel like he was just there to be stripped and used. But she’d learned to deal with each piece of clothing and the specific order in which they had to come off to leave his body naked for her appreciation. She could undress him swiftly and without any fumbling now, with nothing to stand a chance against her passion for him – not any royal symbols or the specific sequence in which his outfit was put together and, therefore, taken apart.

She pulled at the last layer of clothing that was covering him, reveling at the feeling of his skin under her palms as more of it was revealed with the fabric falling away.

Oritel joined her, his own hands tugging at his bodysuit and pulling it down now that his own impatience had been awoken. He had to pull away from her to get off the boots and the suit and kick them aside where they wouldn't get in their way which left him only in his underwear for her eyes to drink in the sight of his body and he let her enjoy it.

She stepped closer again since she didn’t want to just watch and pressed a palm against the muscles of his abdomen as she used her other hand to draw him into a kiss that he was quick to respond to. He lost his initiative, though when her hand slid down and over his already hardening erection. She drew a moan from him when she let her fingers grasp at it and he broke the kiss, his concentration lost as he tangled his fingers in her hair slowly, as if he was too distracted to remember how the action was done.

It was good then that she’d gotten rid of all the pins and pearls in her hair which he usually took his time taking out–to both their enjoyment–as he didn’t look like he was in the state to do that right now. It seemed like the negative atmosphere was getting to him as well and he, too, just wanted to sink into her if the way he was holding on to her was any indication. And her impatience had prompted her to release her hair from the rigid hairdo she wore it in to allow them both to bask into the feeling of him threading his fingers through the long strands.

She opened her eyes to find that his were still closed as he was enjoying the contact, the blissful expression on his face pulling her lips into a smile before she leaned in to kiss his neck. She pressed her whole palm against his length and rubbed it torturously slowly, keeping him in place with her other hand on his neck so that it was her who controlled the pace. All he could do was hold on to her waist and sigh and moan quietly as she moved her hand just barely and covered his neck in kisses.

She moved down his chest where she allowed herself to bite and mark him since no one but him and her would see because he was only hers and she was the only one who knew all of him. And she was the only one who knew the way his breathing quickened and his muscles relaxed under her lips as she kissed all the tension of the day away, tension that she knew too well herself.

His hand fell out of her hair–allowing her more freedom of movement–and to her shoulder as her actions remained the only thing on his mind, chasing away everything that was making his muscles stiff and tense. There was no fight left in him, only surrender to her caresses now that he was safely tucked away in her embrace. And he could be as soft as he wanted, as soft as she made him.

She kissed her way down his torso, feeling him melting into her more and more every time her lips met his skin, reacting naturally to her love and making her feel like a living, breathing woman and not just a porcelain soulless doll with a smile painted on her face to stay there forever. Her hand was squeezing his length slightly, feeling him throb in anticipation and want, while the other was traveling down his back as she raked her nails over his skin to peel away the stiffness and drag him into the world of her being where it was just the two of them surrounded by the flames of her desire that burned everything else away. She felt every little ripple of movement in his muscles as she made her way lower and lower until she was on her knees in front of him and her access to his skin was being obstructed by his underwear.

She let go of his length, sensing the disappointment he exhaled, and didn’t wait to get her fingers under the waistband of his underwear, letting her nails scrape against his lower abdomen which had him gasp and fill his lungs with air right on her whim. She pulled down the fabric, letting it drop around his ankles, but her hands were instantly on his thighs, trapping him in place and not allowing him to step out of his underwear. He didn’t need to. All he needed to do was be hers. Stop thinking, give up control and sink into her feelings for him.

She dipped even lower and kissed his inner thigh, above his knee, and moved upwards, barely taking her lips off his skin as she did so, letting her teeth graze at the sensitive flesh occasionally. She controlled her pace closely and kept it slow while his breathing turned shallower and more rapid. He was losing his control over himself and she wasn’t going to stop until she got him to cross over and join her on the side of wildness.

She kissed her way to the top of his thigh before pulling away for a moment and leaning in to place a kiss right next to the base of his penis. The quiet moan tangled in the air that left him had her smile against his skin before she moved to his other thigh to repeat the whole process. She’d get his voice out to caress her when his eyes couldn’t stay open for his gaze to do so. They were still on her now, though, giving her the opportunity to pass her desire into him.

She licked the underside of his erection, dragging her tongue from the base to the tip as she made sure his eyes were looking directly into hers, into the depths of her soul where all her want was gathered and his gaze was enough to set it off and she took him into her mouth, his lips parting to let out a groan.

She felt the arousal dripping from her as the wetness of her mouth engulfed him and his voice couldn't resist the pull of her heat. She moved her lips up and down his length, alternating slow and fast, letting her tongue caress his skin and make him throb as his harsh breaths filled her ears, calling to the wild passion inside her, and his hands grabbed on to her shoulders to ground him in her world where her desire was the only force of nature he had to worship. She should have probably gotten him to sit to let him relax fully but it thrilled her to see him like that – towering over her as she was on her knees pleasuring him, and yet, completely in her mercy. He was hers and her muscles tensed as if she was a predator waiting to strike and drag him to her lair to feast on him. And he held on to her and moaned in satisfaction even when she was like that – hungry and untamed. She didn’t have to be pure and innocent, and proper. She could be the fiery beast she was in her essence and he would only pull her closer and beg for her touch, looking entranced by her flames.

“Marion, please,” Oritel whimpered, his hand sliding off her shoulder and pulling the strap of her nightgown with it as his control was slipping through his fingers. His hips were bucking slightly and he would come in her mouth if she didn’t stop.

The thought was tempting but she wanted him inside her so she granted his plea, placing one last kiss on the head of his penis before pulling away. She still dragged a hand up his leg, touching as much skin as she could as she got up, giving him only so much of a chance to gather himself.

He pulled her into a kiss, not trying to lead, his lips just barely brushing hers as he held on to her, breathing her in. As if he was trying to fill himself up with the amounts of passion pouring out of her and she kept still, allowing him to soak up as much as he wanted.

His hand found the strap of her nightgown that was still in place and slid it off her shoulder as well. He made sure to hold on to the garment, though, so that it wouldn't just fall off her body and would give him the opportunity to feel her up as he dragged the fabric down slowly.

She felt his palms brushing against the sides of her breasts and then over her abdomen as he was pulling the nightgown off of her. She’d considered not putting it on at all since it would just get in the way but the thought of him undressing her had been too good. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have somebody putting clothes on you–or taking them off–since she’d gotten rid of the maids long ago and just used her magic for tasks she couldn't accomplish on her own. It made for much less of a fuss and was more effective while also deviating from what was the proper way things had to be done and allowing her to be alone for a little longer, not wearing the mask that was the first thing she needed to put on when there were other people around. She’d missed Oritel’s touch, though, as he was the one that made the mask crumble and the memories of it turn into ashes.

The nightgown dropped at her feet, dragging the thoughts out of her mind with it as well, when he let go of it, his hands on her waist and his eyes taking in the inches of exposed skin as she stood in front of him naked and natural. And he looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world even when her breathing was loud like a storm and her movements were fervent like a wildfire swallowing a forest. He could make her weep with all the love his gaze wrapped her in, knowing that that was the one thing she would never use her claws to tear apart.

He pulled her closer again, pressing against her fully and making her gasp at the tenderness of his skin on hers, tenderness she’d thought she’d never feel as she’d had to cover herself in dragon scales to withstand the attacks coming their way. And he pulled her into a kiss, unafraid that she could breathe out fire because she was so full of love for him that it was spilling out of her in the air as she exhaled into his lungs but those were flames that wouldn't burn him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed, walking him towards the bed. She didn’t need to look to get him where he would melt into her and repeat her name consumed by pleasure that would stain the sound and make it sacred to both of them and offensive to the rest of the world that demanded all of her life from her.

She broke the kiss and pushed him on the bed, watching him let himself fall back with complete trust in her actions. She crawled on top of him, the golden chains her heart had been born into melting under the awe in his gaze as she conquered him, not like a queen, but like a force of nature nothing could stand up to. She could be graceful or clumsy, rough or tender, pleading or having no mercy, and he would still love her. Because she was the queen of his heart and that was a crown that gave her freedom instead of forcing her to pretend.

Marion found his erection and guided it inside her, and it slid in so easily as she was all ready for him. He could take all of her and she wanted to give it when she knew it would be accepted and cherished.

Oritel sat up so that he could kiss at her skin and touch all of her. His hands slid over her thighs to caress them and not to intervene with the pace she’d set and he leaned in to let his lips pay attention to her breasts. The kisses and licks were occasionally interrupted by a moan or a gasp to accompany her own, and his hands moved to touch the skin his mouth couldn't reach. He never touched her clit, though, letting her control both his and her pleasure and that only made her want him more, the desire gripping at her muscles and making them tense.

Oritel’s hands made their way up her back and into her hair, gently closing into fists in it as his ragged breaths remained the only thing caressing her skin while his penis throbbed inside her and he came, the sounds spilling from his lips like a tidal wave crashing into her. It only fed her flames as his pleasure coated her being, luring the desire inside her out.

She gave him a minute to recover as she slowed down and kissed his shoulder, nipping slightly at the skin once or twice. She slid a hand down his arm when his own lips started moving over the skin of her throat and pulled it out of her hair, guiding it between her legs, admitting her need loudly.

He got the message and obeyed quickly, leaning backwards a little, his eyes on her and watching closely to help her along in her search of pleasure, not to judge her. His fingers moved over her clit, driving her crazy as she bounced on top of him and he drank in the sight of the pleasure building inside her and just waiting to come out and take her down as he pushed her over the edge. And the anticipation she could feel in him coupled with the encouraging and seductive touch of his hand over her back and settling on her hip made her thighs quiver.

“Oritel,” she cried out as  the ecstasy reached its peak and started spilling out of her, making her shake uncontrollably, Oritel’s arm wrapping around her waist as he fed the pleasure running wild through her. And when she fell on top of his chest, he swallowed her in his embrace, shielding her and her inner flames from the reality of the outside world that threatened to rain in on them.

[livayl]

The warmth of comfort that kindled a desire (Par 1)

I actually needed two weeks of building courage to post this because part 2 did slip into the 18+ category.  But in this part you´ll only have Marya and Amaziah both exhausted and coming down ill, comforting each other. At least as far as that goes with those two. ;) A little warning for a general description of war in the first paragraph, just skip that one if you want to. And don´t worry, the story is not violent or sad. 

And as always, please only re-blog it to other kink blogs, thank you. :)

The silence was one often heard after a long fought battle. Once the seemingly eternal clash of weapons, the song of blood and steel, had ended. When no more magic split the atmosphere with thunderous lightning bolts and all consuming flames. As soon as the last gigantic foe fell,  the earth trembling one last time in fear as the ground is crushed by it´s dead weight. Once all crying had stilled, the last breath was choked and even the bravest heartbeat deceased, this was when the silence became more deafening than the loudest roar.

And so their army marched, shrouded in screaming stillness. Ice cracked sharply underneath heavy set steps. A victorious return that still seemed to be too much of a loss. 

Dawning had tinted the snow deep lilac and painted the horizon a blazing orange-red. A fiercely smoldering sun rose from its slumber to awaken the coming day still wrapped in haze. The few trees and abandoned houses they passed where still no more than black silhouettes in front of the glowing skyline that shadowed their surroundings with twisted black shades. It was an eery yet appealing atmosphere that Amaziah would have enjoyed if not for the pungent stench of war and ashes that lingered even after leaving the battlefield long behind. Hugging her whole body tightly like an old lover resistant to be left unattended. Her magic; as destructive as it was: The only love she once thought of being exhilarating in all its clashing emotions had now turned to drain her deeply. Carving a big hollow space where it once could almost be described as all pervading. The turns her mind took made her snort derisively and silently chide herself. She really must be tired to indulge in such foggy nonsense instead of keeping watch properly. 

"Are you unwell?" A whispered voice asked as a small, gloved hand gently came to rest on her armor clad lower arm. Amaziah swore that she could feel good intentions melting into her like a pleasant warmth radiating through the icy metal trapping her skin. May it be the moments own kind of magic or her wishful imagination.

"Forgive me, just lost in thought. But you seem cold and exhausted, Love." She answered upon looking down, gently tightening the grip around the small figure seated in front of her. Maryas head titled back just enough to shift her hood and release a curled, lustrous mass of hair into the open. The ever present wind entangled those silky wisps even more, making them dance and waft around a shockingly haggard looking face. The still dim light made it hard to tell but Maryas usually bright blue eyes seemed veiled and unfocused with eyelids at half-mast and lashes breathed on by frost. They also were unusual shiny, almost feverish and  deeply embedded into the lilac shadows surrounding them. Her face appeared to have lost its color completely, hovering in between flowy coppery waves like a pallid ghost dappled in freckles. Full,  paled lips slightly parted under a rosy-tinted, very sniffly nose. Her body slightly swayed, if to balance out the wyverns fast pace or out of exhaustion was hard to tell.

  "I do? You should look into a mirror yourself more often." Marya said, her normal melodious speech all rough around the edges. Her body unconsciously pressed closer to the Archmages front, longing for comfort. "Oh I would for sure but there is always this angry, terrifying face that keeps staring back. It is haunting me." That made Marya laugh despite the circumstances which rapidly  turned into a rattling coughing fit. "Ugh. Now that was scary too..." She breathed, still panting, and shivery huddled deeper into her coat. "Here, let me try something..." Amaziahs strong yet delicate, already bare fingers gently plucked the fingertips of Maryas fine leather gloves to slowly undress her trembling hands. She could not help but to shudder a little more as her once sun kissed skin was exposed to a sharp frostbite inch by inch. Compared to the exquisitely soft, always warm dragonskin Amaziahs own seemed rough and cold when she entwined their hands with each other. Yet, how cold could a woman be that had defied the searing blaze of a dragon just to defend others. And to give out wonderfully warm clothes, too apparently.

Marya startled a little as a prickling sensation started to spread from her hands up to her arms. It was not unpleasant and seemed vaguely familiar. She concentrated hard enough to recognize her veins resonating with the well known, almost erratic, seething pulse which infused the battle mages body. One that could be as feeble as a freshly ignited candles flame dancing in a breeze, only to grow to a burning, all consuming blaze within a heartbeat should the winds turn. For a second it felt like an overwhelming wave erupting through a bursting volcanoes crater. It flooded her with almost unbearable heat that took her breath away only to lessen to a slowly flowing stream of constant warmth not unlike magma- albeit less deadly. The Archmage; a hardly controlled force of nature. Not that this was something unusual. 

"Forgive me, that did not go entirely as planned." "Oh so you did not want to ignite me?" "Mhmm not today at least, no. Does it feel fine now?" Maryas focus went inward once again. The steady flow of magic had now unfurled throughout her whole body. It felt like floating in silky hot healing water with one of those bubbling bath soaps. Of course no one ever would add one of those to a healing basin. Though it should have been something worth consideration. They were perfumed nicely and felt so fizzy and- really really tingly? Tickling her almost too much to enjoy- "apTSCHIh!-ISSCHuh!- hah-ITSCHiiuh! Ihhh-s it supposed to tickle my nnnh-nose?" The sensation had peaked too fast for her to unwind her hands from Amaziahs grip and had left her no choice but to sneeze openly down her lap. "That tickle seemed to be rooted somewhere else." Amaziah replied, still reluctant to loosen her grip despite Maryas increasingly desperate efforts to squirm out of it. "Whah-hah-TSCHih!- hdt~TSCHIU! -apTSCHIEW! What a shame. I thought- hii-IIISCHHiuuh! you found a new battle strategy. SNNFFFff please let go of my hands." "But then you´ll be cold again." "Spitting all over the place is not much better!" Amaziah unwillingly agreed to free one, but not without a ridiculed glance down her still blood stained armor. She wrinkled her brow at that thickly clotted mass of charcoal frost-giant-leftover still coating her whole right side. "I've been splattered with worse today." She paused while Marya cleaned her nose with a gurgling blow that ended with a pair of raspy coughs. "You could try to sleep a little. We will reach the outpost before mid morning and as much as I already despise it, I´m sure there will be plenty more in need of your services."

There had been more indeed. Not enough to be numbered as plenty but a sufficient amount to reduce her still battle deprived mental and physical resources to a shaking, almost nonexistent core. Marya could almost feel Amaziahs worried gaze burning through her back as she had finally been dismissed to retreat to their shared tent. Her mind was drifting in and out of a fevery blur, only vaguely aware of the outstretched arm behind her. She was carried on heavy legs that felt numb with exhaustion, one wavering step after the other. Suddenly, her complete range of vision seemed to loose fight against an ever present, approaching darkness that had patiently lurked in the corners. Focus blackening and eyelids barely lifting anymore, everything so heavy as if smeared with glue, she realized: I´m about to pass out.

When she regained consciousness it was mainly through the slightly irregular rise and fall of her pillow. But pillows did not move or breath. Right? Nor should they feel that solid. She blearily rubbed her face deeper into the thing she recognized as a shoulder connected to a small yet soft curve she knew all to well. Her hand was placed above a slightly hollow, firm belly that contorted in rhythm of every hitch. And there, under a mutually used cozy blanket, was that protective grip on the small of her back she had come to appreciate.

Marya also realized that faint, but oh so familiar smell of bergamot paired with a deep underlining of sandalwood that finally teased her out of that fuzzy warm place her mind must have hidden in. That she was able to discern it also confirmed that she felt much better. Less the stuffy, achy and overall exhausted mess she had been just a blink of an eye ago. Eyes still closed she was still wondering how she had managed to retreat to their shared bed when the former light, yet recurring  hitch suddenly accumulated to an urgent gasp. Which then accumulated in a single, violent and full-bodied attempt to stifle what hardly could be contained. The action, while relatively quiet, shook her as well and made her rip open her eyes as she needed to steady herself. 

"Woah. Gesundheit!" She exclaimed as the surprise had chased away any afterthought of drifting back to sleep again. Amaziah, who obviously still struggled to compose herself, just looked at her. All teary eyed, disheveled and maybe more than a bit embarrassed. "Apologies." "No worries." Marya giggled as she draped first herself and then the blanket back over the Archmages body. "How do you feel? Did the potion work?" Amaziah asked. "Much better actually. Was I unconscious for long?" "No, a minute or two at best. But you've slept for a few hours, which I am really glad for." "Were you able to sleep, too?" Marya then asked, growing increasingly worried at the heat radiating off the Archmages usually cool body. Now, upon close inspection, there were also lots of tiny, gleaming beads of sweat glistening on her feverishly hued skin. "Mhmm... I did not feel tired." Amaziah replied elusively. "Also, I had to resume my likewise infinite war with the oh so dreaded paperwork" She added, chin nodding to her side where different scrolls and books littered the otherwise unoccupied half of the bed. "Did you at least have a potion? I could brew you one." Marya offered. She was readying herself to get up again but was swiftly and very decisively hindered with a smooth pull and an even softer kiss. "No. Potions are for those who are in need of them. And you still have to rest." "But you are ill, too!" "Hardly." "Of course. As much as I enjoy cuddling with you, your clothes are about to be drenched in sweat. And you almost threw me out of the bed with that sneeze a minute ago!" "I did not sneeze." "Oh? Then that suppressed monstrosity was a seizure. Which is even more worrying. And- ooh look, it is about to happen again!" To that the Archmage almost frantically shook her head, whether in denial or to ward of the inevitable did not seem too clear. Her flaring nostrils, increasingly deepening inhales and knitted browline did speak a much more obvious language though. As did the suddenly handkerchief-clad hands that flew up to cover a harsh sounding: "Huh-EESCCCH-AH..." quickly followed by a rushed, hastily muffled and messy "HEHIIZSSSCH-ue!" that rattled both of them. Amaziah could not help but to cough and blow productively in the aftermath. When she was finished the effort left her nose red rimmed and still vaguely shiny with fluid. "Ugh- I am disgusting, forgive me." The Archmage mumbled, nose already crinkled and twitchy with a newly rising discomfort that made her sit up and turn away. "No, you are ill." Marya soothed and hugged her Love from behind. "With me that-..." Amaziah stopped and raised a vaguely trembling hand towards her lower facial regions. There it came to rest securely caged around her mouth with a thumb and forefinger already hovering around each widened nostril. She felt each slight expansion tremble against her fingertips as the next inhale reached a sudden crescendo. Her grip tightened in a fruitless attempt to squelch her stubborn nose into submission that ended with a painfully held back, entirely unsatisfying release. Quickly followed by an almost agonized groan. "Excuse me...With me that amounts to the same thing, I´m afraid."

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, DAVE! You’ve been accepted for the role of EDMUND. Admin Rosey: There's something that makes Edmund such a powerful figure in his own right and Dave, I don't know how but you managed to capture it in the span of this one application. The prose, the voice, all of it was present from the plot points to the interview. His voice was so very poignant throughout the whole thing it made my heart ache a little. I am well and truly enthralled by the Edmund that you have presented to us and cannot wait to watch you dive deeper and show us what makes this boy who he is and how he'll give Verona a reckoning to be feared. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Dave

Age | 23

Preferred Pronouns | He/him

Activity Level | On average a few hours every other / every third night. I have kids so it will likely be after I put them to bed.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp? | My sister Kat lead me in your direction

IN CHARACTER

Character | Edmund / Easton Craven

What drew you to this character? A man built from resentment, bones compressed from the ashes of an others mistakes, a cold structure of stone engraved with rage. Teeth that never unclench, a jaw so tight it threatens to break into fragments. Animosity is the dangerous life raft holding together a bitterly broken character, mania stemmed from a lifetime of repudiation. An obsession potent enough to cover years of aching ribs; the soft tissues under the bones filled with a fire harrowing enough to stifle hurt. He craves revenge as if a child reaching out to their mother. Comfort being found in the promise of reunification. If only he could reach, if only his stiff limbs would meet the soft, consoling ones that he felt reciprocating the assignation, he would feel peace. Delusion of contentment driving passionate precision, carefully planned collisions that cause wise, crooked smiles that meet the eyes of madness.

He knows the storm is raging. The thorns sprouting from his blooming roses; depriving the buds of the little sunlight they initially had. He’s feeling just as suffocated and trapped now. Everything around him is whirling in the chaos he created but he won’t let it break him. Even in the blinding darkness he makes himself big, thrashing about so that even those who can see clear as day stay far from his reach. He lives with the actions of a stubborn child; allowing the haze of red fury to cloud his mind as he surrenders his better judgment. Every time he drink the poison he loses another piece of himself to make room. The pressure builds inside of him like a volcano and when he erupts; his pride and joy are the only casualties. He’s sacrificed everything for his cause, his battle cry drowning out the grief but he’s no longer even sure what threat the enemy poses, forcing a blindness on him more dangerous than the dark.

Taking the risk, stepping up to the plate and taking his best shot. When pressed with his back against the wall, Blood betraying him or perhaps the other way around; what choice is one left with? Perhaps the anger lies only with himself but his innate strength fuels the fire of his inner flames and he utilizes them. He makes these flames dry his tears, forces them to dance beneath the spotline, start forest fires to the granite floors beneath his feet. He uses them as his shield and a deadly weapon all in one curve of his lip. He uses them to carve art onto every inch of the elegantly draped walls that enclosed him so that the world can see how wrongly it had mistaken him, all while making the error of not once giving him the satisfaction of knowing he wields with the strength of mind, unaware of the fear that would bestow his enemies. He fights for himself rather than the cause, drawing those who abandon him back to his wake so that opportunity can present itself in the cruelest twists of fate. He will win back his power, giving himself the choice to crush it to ash or feed it to his fire so that it grows in size. They will beg for remorse, what he will do with them he doesn’t know but someone will burn alive; of that he is sure.

Years of neglect and deprivation leave scars, deep gashes in ego and emotional stability. Easton is broken, deeply hurt by being denied by those who were meant to hold him close, being inevitably punished for the actions of others. To pretend he isn’t aching over his loss would be an injustice. Deeply buried insecurities burrow deep in his bones with the aching torment he shoved away.  Still, anger is a much easier emotion to handle, it carries more dignity, a false sense of self control. There’s something there in that deeply rooted delusion of control, believing it so wholeheartedly that it becomes a reality, that I’m immensely drawn to. An emotional whirlwind with a powerful mind, twisting together in dangerous ways. I see so much potential for him developmentally, so many layers to explore. I really want to be able to flesh that out and bring him to life.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? 

“Yet Edmund was beloved” - Villains amongst disastrous plot, all alike in wicked bitterness. Written to be disliked, to cause mouths to turn down with force, muscles to tense in distaste. A rarity amongst his breed, they found a moment of remorse. Weakness was found and admittance to their sinful deeds, an eager audience was forced to face questions of morality.

I think what makes Edmund throughout literature to stand out so strongly was his repentance. It was a rare quality among Shakespeare’s literature and it’s something I feel is important to keep intact to his plot. It made its audience question whether he was truly a cold, cruel man or if he it was driven by a misdirected desire to be accepted. It’s a theme I plan to show throughout the plot, but I would like a bigger when the time is right to showcase his humanity.

Double edged sword- Sly crooked smiles and sparkling eyes, they crave the game, the slipping of cards into a deck undetected, the chips inconspicuously gathering in front of patiently folded hands. Winning the game does not raise feelings of satisfaction, spirits don’t rise at the chips that twirl between his narrow fingers but at the bitter eyes that narrow in his direction as he does so. Pleasure found only in the woefulness of others, misery causing teeth to show greedily, sparkling eyes falling dark with revelation.

I was to do a lot of scheming with him, a lot. Carefully planned betrayals, shady business deals, cunningly undermining those around him. I want a few of these, and I expect nothing less than a few Enemies as a result.

Blood over blood - Empires built steadily over a name that cursed his existence, pressed him back into a crevasse, covered him thick in wool as if to conceal even the heart that beat within his chest. A name placed on his head as if it were to quench the thirst of question, to satisfy the growing hunger for bloodshed that was soon to breed within the expanding chest below. The indefensible half of the term son. Cast down upon with fury and iron fists by all but his counterpart. Antipathy baking in the fires that nestled between fragile ribs, desperately attempting to replace the warmth his brighter half consumed without question or consideration. Confliction of blood contemplated incautiously.  Blood had betrayed him, or perhaps it was the other way around.

There is a lot to be said about Easton’s relationship with his brother. I feel there is true feelings buried deep under the poisonous vines he’s planted within himself. I think it is the single relationship that will reveal that rage is used to cover fear, fear that stems from loss and betrayal.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? | “Places are places, are places.” Words fell from casually loose lips, flat muscles and eyes rested upon his face as he took in the response of his interviewer, gave himself a moment to enjoy their frustration, the needle of his words knitting the space between their brows together. A dilatory moment of this passed before his lips unsheathed far too-perfect teeth. “The twelfth night.” Amusement laced his words in a way that sounded like a chuckle, spread far across his face to meet his eyes like beams of sunlight, brightening the pale skin it touched. Eyes casually emigrated to the cuff of his sleeve, long narrow fingers fiddling to straighten the small metal clasp that held it in place. ‘Home’ felt like an obvious answer, one that comes from a place deep within one’s soul, one given from utter personage. It was a word used to describe a dwelling of comfort, safety. Ah, but no person or place provided such a vast sensation. All that resided there was a bitter taste that weighed him down as strongly as desire did. He found himself on those places, however pesky, simply prioritized. “I like art.“ He added, blue orbs flickering up from under thick dark brows. There was a great truth in this set of words and yet in the cruelest twist of fate and fallacy he continued with an almost crude sense of humor. "And other historical entertainments."

What has been your biggest mistake thus far? I "Ah, mistakes.” Air left eager lungs as if to sound off sighs of relief. As if voracious for the topic, his lungs pulled in another large breath. “I can attest to many, many mistakes.” It was a topic that engulfed his life, his very breaths taken in vain of the word. It echoed off the walls of his skull, pounding itself into the bone it reached, engraving the term ad nauseum so that he could never forget. “My greatest mistake is the sins of another. Unfortunately, all my own will seem pale in comparison. Boring really.” Far too warm hands folded over his knees, well-practiced politeness plastered across his features. “But I’m sure I’ll even the score eventually.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? I  “Difficulty stems from incompetence.” Bold statements were made from confidence, a strong belief that burned in his chest. Neatly trimmed fingernails tapped the dark stained wood of the armchair he poised himself in, Hack stretched out against the opulently draped bolster. Many difficult tasks had been asked of him, several that flashed about his mind in a rapid myriad, pressed up against his smooth forehead so that the pressure built like cotton. Difficult not in question of morality but in the conflict of agenda.  The undertakings themselves brought little burden to his mind but the consequences must always be taken under consideration. The butterfly effects that carried with each accord left the stains of spots on his own broken wings. None were to be taken unnecessarily. “I suspect you aren’t accusing me of that.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? I “The war between the two?” Vibrant eyes narrowed with the flow of words from his parted lips. As if the question brought some offense, pierced through a more obvious concern, a more prominent affair.  It was much easier separated into two parts of one whole, easier but untrue to the nature of this particular footing. To new eyes, the crimson stains would seem so easily poised from a clear separation, Capulet and Montague. Ah, but Easton’s eyes were nor new or untrained. They had seen the blood that pooled from open veins, the carnage and rot that baked in the warm midsummer sun. He tsked as if to scorn the ignorance of those who would ask such. You could not start a book from the middle, nor could you an end. Blight had long held the minds of those from each party. Betrayal bubbled and burst from within each seam, pressed at authority and delegation alike. “It’s easier to blame others for our actions, surely.” As if talking to a child he turned his lips down, the incomprehension something of an irritation, the need for explanation an inconvenience to his own time. “Do you not consider the wars amongst ourselves?”

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

(this is a kinda lot? and not something a situation i see happening incredibly often at all but I write it nonetheless so I included it)

A dream is defined as a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during a state of unconsciousness. This was otherwise known as sleep. The term would never relate to himself, however, as sleep was a luxury only available to the poor, the deprived. The same word, conversely, is a wild or vain fantasy. This definition seemed more appropriate when associating the word, dream, to himself. Wild and vein, indeed. His egotistical nature seemed to be everywhere at once as he closed his eyelids. It burned there in the pictures that were painting themselves in his mind. And suddenly it was as if he were hearing his own thoughts. Thoughts, that seemed obscure and twisted to himself muffled by choking screams. Ah, but his mind was not absent at all. In fact, the image that was painting itself in his mind was both behind his eyelids and in front of them. It was as if his dreams poured out from his mind to spill on the floor. Or more suitably, nightmares.

Air flared his nostrils, filling his lungs with a sudden force so powerful it was audible as he opened his eyes, his rough thumb trailed the skin on the side of his mouth with anxiety as he turned. Deep-set eyes were thoughtful, dark brows pulled together in a pucker from a tilted head that stares down the man who was bleeding out on his new carpet. He looked as if he hadn’t noticed, not the man bleeding, not the ruined carpet. Easton knelt down beside him, his lips pressed together as he flicked his phone back on. “Have you seen this girl?”

His voice was too casual, too kind for the scene, too worried. Headlight with adrenaline, the preternatural display causing reality to feel more like a hallucination. The other didn’t look up, clearly too occupied with the blood that came up with every cough to entertain the deranged man leaning over him.

“She’s red hot I know.” He said in a breathy chuckle. The sound was innocent, lustful even as he shook his head in disbelief. “She’s slippery though. Always hard to find. Not mine either. Not really my type but-” Easton sighed, slight frustration lacing his tone as his eyes trailed away from the phone to stare at still choking interrogatee.

“You see that’s the thing. She’s been ignoring someone for the past 24 hours, it’s like she completely disappeared.” There in his iris’ you could find a new, growing intensity. It was slow at first, a sense of seriousness that within a matter of words became terrifying, unhinged in the deep pits of his pupils. “Here, take a look at her.” Easton shoved the phone further in the man’s face. The light from the screen reflecting off the red stream, almost close enough to engage in it. He knew very well it still wouldn’t be seen, that the blood pooling in this man’s eyes would have him seeing red, not quite in the way Easton was expecting to himself; certainly, there was more of a disadvantage in it. “She’s beautiful right?”

“Anyway,-” Easton’s tone dropped off again with a sigh, the phone going dark so that the men own eradicated state was staring back at him with a click. “She doesn’t report back last night. No text, no calls, nothing. So people start asking around, when’s the last time people heard from her. We don’t like the responses. You know, there’s something about the tone of a person’s voice.”

Easton stood, the now accumulating sweat from his palms being wiped on his dark crisp pants as he began to pace. “My imagination starts running wild. I start thinking of other guys I’ve seen her look at, other associations she’s hung out with, other friends of hers she doesn’t know we know about. You know, I started thinking about what I would do to someone if I found out that he paid her off. I would shackle the fucker up for a year and I would slowly and systematically torture him every morning and every night till he finally shut down. I mean I would burn off all his fucking skin is what I would do.” Something about the tone of his voice insinuated he was talking to a friend, a casual comfort emulating from him in waves that got cut off by sudden bursts of insanity.

“You know, these are the classifications of things I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about bad things.” Feet were trailing in small circles by this point, shiny shoes walking through pools of claret, dragging it with each pace. A heavy sign caused the motion to stop, silence falling in its place as crystal slowly rose to Easton’s lips, a thoughtful sip seeming to bring him back to his purpose.

“So, do you recognize her?” He waited a long moment. “Hm?”

“Yea.” The man responded in response in a choke. Easton quickly rushed to kneel by his side again. “You do?” He asked eagerly, his chest beginning to rise and fall with expectations.

“Uh, Yeah, I see her around sometimes. I mean, I don’t know her, but –” His eyes focused on almost anything but Easton’’s face but Easton kept moving his eyes into the line of sight.

“Hard to miss right?” Easton smiled almost confidently, proudly.

“Right.” The other coughed out again, his fluids seeming to stay inside him for once. The stench of iron and violence still fresh on his breath.

“It’s the little things that get you, the arguments. There had been this little spat about nothing – I don’t even remember what and then poof, she’s out the door, she’s gone. You know where she goes?” Easton didn’t give a moment to respond. “She goes to your side of town.”

“Really?”

Heartbeats were becoming more frequent, patience suddenly running low as if they were thin to begin with. The cause wasn’t a lack of control but a lack of interest. The cards were being dealt too slowly,  passion only residing when there was something to be won. The room already smelled like victory and the fight he received in return was none. The anger now came from a place of disappointment. “Yea.”

Suddenly his voice was getting louder, quicker. The urgency became something of a result of annoyance twisting around his chest, crushing his ribs. Easton’s face flushed red, pressing closer to the others, enclosing some of the space between them with a furious gaze.

“She goes over to that shit hole. She sends a text that she found her friends and then that’s it, that’s the last time she’s heard from. And you know what? I know some of these ‘friends’ over there and you know what they tell me? They tell me she goes over around 1 AM and then doesn’t come back – So she comes in, but doesn’t come out. At least not through town.” He ran his tongue over his teeth as he caught his breath. His tone finding another spasm of normality. His finger lifted, head tilted to the side as brows furrowed once more. “You were down their last night, right?

Easton’s company simply nodded in reply, cringing at the pain that seemed to ache through his muscles at the action. Easton’s head nodded in return, lips tight as he took in the words. “Did you see anything?”

“Did I see anything?”

“Yea, did you see anything.”

“Did I see anything?  I don’t see much of anything ever.“

Easton stared at him for a moment as if he were taking this in.

“Right, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

I am pretty dyslexic so larger bodies of text tend to get grammar and spelling mistake. They are usually minor and people usually have no issue comprehending my work but if there ever is an issue I just ask that you let me know so I can fix it!