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redtsundere-writes · 10 months ago

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Chapter 17: Everything Is Cursed

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

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One question was bothering you. You had been through hell and you still hadn't received your reward. That inquiry was running in circles in your mind. There were many answers, but none were facts. What was happening? Why were you going through it? How long would it be until it was over? Many possibilities, none seemed to be the right one. It was a doubt that arose the morning after the small funeral you prepared for your sister.

There was a small chapel past the garden and crops behind the terrible castle. Its white facade, with a classical curved parapet and a red tiled roof, emanated serenity in the middle of hell. On top of the facade, the emblem of Sukuna’s kingdom rose towards the sky. Vines grew around the open arch that reveals its interior. That small place had existed since Sukuna conquered these lands. With no function for that small building, Sukuna decided to leave it as it was. Sometimes the servants would go there in their free time to pray for their souls in case they didn’t survive another day.

You carefully placed the golden urn with Yorozu’s ashes on one of the shelves. Uraume had given it to you the morning after your little expedition with the king. That morning, you woke up, surprised to be in your room in the castle. Apparently, you had fallen asleep while watching the sunset and the king had to carry you back in his arms. “How embarrassing,” you thought before getting ready for the funeral.

You put on the cap of your black cloak so that no one would disturb you as you dedicated a minute of silence to your sister’s soul with your cheeks completely dry. You had quickly accepted that she was no longer with you and that you couldn’t do anything for her in life. Now the only thing you could do was honor her short life. Everything had happened so fast. A couple of months ago you were crying from happiness to see her, and now you didn’t want to cry from disappointment.

You listened to Kenjaku give his class, but you couldn't pay attention. It had been a week since Yorozu's death and something was missing. The reason why you had committed that atrocity that you wanted to forget but would haunt you for the rest of your life. You tried to pay attention to your teacher, but that doubt kept pulling you into the limbo of probabilities.

“Once you understand your opponent's point of view, it is easier to defend your own position more successfully, especially because that's how you avoid misunderstandings and arguing about aspects that the other side hasn't really said,” Kenjaku explained while writing the keywords on the board. “That's why studying the rival is very important in the debate.” He turned around to find you lost in your thoughts. You looked at the board, but you weren't really reading what it said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Why hasn't the king proposed to me yet?” You asked him, coming back to your senses. Kenjaku looked at you confused.

“I meant about class…”

“Ah.” You quickly read what the board said about the steps to learn how to argue. “I have no doubts about that.”

Kenjaku had noticed your strange attitude for a couple of days now, but as you continued with your education without delay, he never asked you. He thought it was because you were still mourning your sister's death or sad about not knowing the true whereabouts of your sisters. The teacher smiled to himself, just when he thought he could read you like an open book, it turned out that he wasn't.

“So that's what's been distracting you lately?” Kenjaku inquired.

“Did I do something wrong? The king promised to marry me once I killed someone of my kind, but he hasn't done it yet,” you explained worriedly.

“Do you want to marry him that much?” Kenjaku joked tenderly. It was nice to see a girl completely in love.

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation. Your master smiled at hearing you so excited. “My sister died because of that, I better do it.” That was not an answer he expected to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“I lost Yorozu because of that deal. If Sukuna doesn't propose to me, I would have killed my sister for nothing,” you explained, crossing your arms in frustration. “Do you know why the king hasn't done it yet?”

Kenjaku's enthusiastic smile disappeared just like that day when Sukuna came back with you in his arms, completely asleep and, worst of all, without a ring on your finger. The king was stupid for not taking the opportunity to ask you to marry him after all.

“I have no idea,” Kenjaku answered. “Maybe he's been very busy.”

That could be a possibility. You hadn't seen the king as often as before. You used to see him at every meal of the day, in the afternoon when you gave him your daily report, and when he sometimes poked his nose into your education. Now, you only saw him at breakfast time because he spent the rest of the day locked in his office. You couldn't even report to him because he wouldn't let you in. It was strange how everything around you had changed after your sister's death.

"I hope he didn't scam me," you thought, holding your head in guilt.

"The king may be many things, but a scammer isn't one of them," Kenjaku, I assure you.

The door opened, interrupting the teacher-student conversation. You recognized almost immediately the naturally bitter face, the gray hair, and the dull uniform in dark tones. It was that new servant who was so kind to you. All you knew about him had been from Mrs. Inoue, who had told you that he was such a reserved, serious, and somewhat grumpy man. It seemed so strange to you that you never perceived it like that.

“Sorry to interrupt you. The king calls you to his office,” he announced.

“Maybe the time has come,” Kenjaku commented with a smile.

“Finally…” You sighed.

It was strange. Kenjaku thought you would be more excited about marrying the king. You studied complicated subjects that fried your brain, trained until exhaustion, and got ready early to please the king’s eyes. It made no sense for you to work so hard for this moment and not be excited.

Sukuna let them into the office. You and Kenjaku entered after bowing in respect to the king and his right-hand man, Uraume, who stood faithfully behind him. Sukuna’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. He gripped his pen tightly to mask his nervousness at being in your presence.

Returning to the castle after his failed marriage proposal, he carried you to your room as you snored softly. He gently laid you down on the bed so as not to wake you up. He took off your boots before tucking you into bed. He sat next to you to admire your calmness. Your chest rose and fell slowly to the rhythm of your breathing. Your eyelashes stood out more when your eyes were closed. Your half-open lips invited him to come closer to kiss you like that night you spent together. “Enough!” Sukuna scolded himself in his mind to stop and immediately leave your room so you could continue your dream.

Since that night, he realized that he can’t think coherently when he iswas near you, so he decided to take immediate measures so you wouldn’t distract him when working. It was frustrating how your mere presence could upset him like that. He had to fight with all his instincts to concentrate on what mattered most now, the future of his kingdom.

You and Kenjaku approached the desk. Quickly, you noticed a large black box with a gold engraving of roses on it. It was almost as long as the desk. That must have been the reason you had been called. It seems that this was not what you were expecting.

“Open it.” Sukuna ordered you.

You looked at Kenjaku for a second, worried about what might be inside. Your master patted you on the back a couple of times, inviting you to come closer. You worked up the courage to open the box without a hint of fear. The latches clicked open at the same time. You lifted the lid to reveal the immaculate treasure.

A beautiful rose gold bow that radiated a special aura against the light. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you pulled it out of its box, along with its matching pink-dyed leather quiver. You never thought you'd see such a beautiful weapon in your life. You pretended to load the bow with an imaginary arrow to test it out. It was lighter than the one you had before, and you could tell it was made with the best quality materials. As you lowered the bow, you noticed a small detail. In the small hollow of the handle there was an engraving, a small daisy. You smiled at the cute detail. You thought it would have a rose, since it was a common symbol in the Sukuna kingdom, but daisies are cute too.

“It's a cursed bow,” Sukuna explained, catching your attention. “That means you can kill curses with it. Keep that in mind when you train with my soldiers.”

“What's the difference from a normal bow?” You asked curiously.

“This bow is infused with the cursed energy from Yorozu’s body,” the king replied bluntly.

“Are you saying that part of my sister is here?” You stammered. Everyone in the room could tell that you were about to burst into tears.

“Yes,” Sukuna replied in the same tone.

You hugged the bow to your chest as you sobbed softly, hiding your face behind your hair and the upper limb. A pang of guilt attacked Sukuna’s chest. He really thought you would like his gift, since you deserved a cursed weapon made especially for you, but it seems he was wrong.

“Thank you…” You sobbed. “Thank you for giving me something to honor her life with.”

You looked into his eyes with tears running down your cheeks and a nostalgic smile on your face. Sukuna’s heart quickly skipped a beat as he realized the true reason for your crying. His lower hands, hidden beneath the desk, clenched into fists to control himself. How could you play with his feelings without even trying? Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses, the powerful tyrant and the commander of thousands, was being corrupted by a mere mortal.

He hated these feelings you caused him. You made him so embarrassed he looked like a tomato, you annoyed him so much, but he couldn't get mad at you, and now, you could manipulate him with a simple smile. He would lose his temper when he was around you and that drove him crazy. If you wanted, he would be in the palm of your hand. He had to keep you as far away from him as possible to prevent the situation from getting worse for him.

“Just go train already,” Sukuna ordered in a grumpy tone, turning his gaze to an empty document to avoid seeing you.

It was a shame he hadn't asked you to marry him yet, but the king really did look busy. You could see the physical effect that being locked up in his office for so long had caused. He had purple eye bags, his posture was stiff, and his eyes scanned the document lazily. “Maybe later,” you thought disappointed before taking the quiver with pink feathered arrows.

“Yes, my king,” you replied with a bow to leave.

“We must leave then,” Kenjaku made you second.

“Who gave you permission to leave?” Sukuna ordered him.

The master was surprised at that. You and Kenjaku shared a confused look, but you decided to obey the king so as not to cause any more inconvenience. Your legs walked as quickly as possible, closing the door behind you as you left the office. Sukuna’s hands relaxed as he no longer had to keep his emotions in check. After making sure you had already left, Kenjaku approached the king.

“Why so secretive, my king?” Kenjaku inquired curiously.

“It’s not a secret, it’s just that she’s not ready to know what I’m planning yet.” Sukuna got up from the desk to take one of the scrolls that were displayed on a bookshelf. He unrolled the scroll with a snap to reveal an updated map of the great world they knew.

It was a large map made from parchment and black ink with wonderful detail. It showed all the important kingdoms and places of interest that made up the world. The Kingdom of Sukuna and the Kingdom of Jogo were to the west, the kingdoms of Gojo, Geto and Yaga; to the north. The kingdoms of Zen'in and Nanami; to the east, and finally, the Kingdom of Tsukumo was to the southeast. Currently, the great tyrant owned the east and planned to expand soon.

"I'm going to declare war on the Zen'in," Sukuna announced, pointing at the large territory with his finger.

Kenjaku looked at him impressed, but not surprised. He knew that one day the king would not be satisfied with keeping the infested lands with only curses, so he would go to conquer human lands. Kenjaku glanced at Uraume out of the corner of his eye, who had not said a single word the entire time they were there. He expected nothing less from the shadow of his majesty.

“Wow, how ambitious,” Kenjaku commented while looking at the map. “May I know why you made that decision?” He returned his gaze to the king with curiosity.

“The Gojo Kingdom and the Geto Kingdom are allied, so an invasion could be complicated with my current troops. The Nanami Kingdom, Tsukumo and Yaga are small but distant. They will be my next targets once I have the Zen'in.” Everything the king said made sense, but there was still a small kingdom that was at the equator of the world to consider.

“What about the Kamo Kingdom? It is small and right in front of the Jogo Kingdom. It is the perfect target.”

“How many times have Commander Mahito and his troops tried to kill them?” Sukuna asked him seriously. Kenjaku gulped at that indirect accusation.

“I have already lost count, my king,” he answered, embarrassed by his comrade.

“They may be a small kingdom, but they are stupidly powerful. They are watching their lands at all hours for living so close to the Jogo kingdom. If anyone is ready for an invasion, it is them.” Sukuna explained. "As this is my first invasion into the heart of a kingdom, I have spent all this time carefully choosing my first victim. Because once I do, the other kingdoms will know what awaits them."

"If you have already decided, I am ready to obey your orders as always." Kenjaku gave a bow of respect that Sukuna completely ignored to look at the window.

"My plan will be carried out once I secure the life of my heir, in case everything goes wrong," Sukuna explained. "During that time, you will take care of the troops of the Jogo kingdom."

"And what about the education of the miss?" Kenjaku asked worriedly.

"I already have that covered." Sukuna answered.

"So what is the first step?" Kenjaku inquired.

“Wait for the Zen’in to make the first move.”

You left your room after finishing getting ready for the day of training that awaited you. You had decided that from now on you would use Yorozu's dresses to train since they were lighter than yours, perfect for moving with complete freedom. Archery is a sport that requires complete mobility of the upper body, so it is annoying to wear elegant dresses that require a corset. You were heading to the courtyard, moving your shoulders in circles to warm up on the way, until you ran into that kind servant. He was dusting off an obsidian vase propped on a marble column with great laziness.

"Did everything go well with the king, miss?" The man asked you when he noticed your presence.

"Yes, he gave me a new bow." You showed it to him to show it off. He was amazed to see it.

"It is very beautiful. It is made with the best fiberglass and carbon. It must have cost the king a good fortune." He explained as he took it to examine it carefully.

“It's obvious that you know about this,” you said, somewhat surprised, taking back your bow.

“Of course I know, I was a hunter before I was a servant,” he replied.

“Really?” You asked, fascinated. The gentleman was going to answer, but another servant, who was passing by, intercepted their conversation.

“Wasuke, leave the lady alone and get back to work!” The servant scolded him angrily.

“Shut your mouth, idiot!” Wasuke replied in the same tone.

That sudden change in attitude took you by surprise. Now you understood why Mrs. Inoue said he was a grumpy man. One moment he could be a kind man and, the next, someone extremely rude.

“In fact, he is working. He is going to help me train,” you defended him. “Isn't that right, Wasuke?” You gave him a knowing wink.

“Of course, miss.” He gave you a slight smile when he realized what you were planning.

The other servant rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came, muttering insults under his breath. Typical attitude for an 80-year-old man. You and Wasuke looked at each other knowingly before smiling at each other as if you had done some mischief.

“I shall warn you that I am a very strict master,” Wasuke warned you.

“Just what I need,” you told him. “My name is Y/n,” you introduced yourself with a bow of respect to your new master.

“Everyone knows who you are,” he joked. “My name is Wasuke Itadori. It will be an honor to train you.” You had a good feeling about this.

Wasuke shouted encouragements at you while you barely did push-ups. As soon as you reached the parade ground, he told you that you were the weakest woman he had ever met in his life, so he forced you to do different exercises to strengthen your arms, shoulders, and back. Your weak muscles could barely support the weight of your own body each time you climbed up, keeping your back as straight as possible. You sweated, even in places you didn't know could sweat.

“Lift that neck, lady! Even a little girl can do 30 push-ups!” Wasuke yelled at you, small drops of saliva escaping from his mouth every time he opened his mouth.

“That's what I'm trying to do!” You complained between moans of exhaustion.

“I don't want a try, I want you to do it!” Wasuke spat. “Three more!”

With the little breath you had left, you lowered your body. The grass tickled the palms of your hands, but that wasn't going to stop you. You climbed up with your back straight and then lowered yourself again. This was more complicated than it seemed. Wasuke kept yelling at you to finish the simple exercise with a good grade. When he said he was a strict teacher, he meant it. You did the last push-up and collapsed to the ground. You groaned in pain as you breathed in the freshly cut grass.

“Get up now,” Wasuke ordered you. You reluctantly obeyed. “Now you are going to hold the bow in front of you for 5 minutes.” That sounded simple.

You took your bow, extended your arms in front of you and held the weapon with both hands. All was well until your limbs began to shiver from the exhaustion of the previous exercises. You tightened your grip on the bow to keep it from slipping from the sweat. You didn’t think you could last 5 minutes like that.

“Can I ask you something?” You tried to distract your brain from the exercise so that time would pass faster. “Why are you here? You look quite young compared to everyone else.”

Unlike the other servants, Wasuke was the youngest of them all, like you at the time. Most servants were between 60 and 80, he looked to be under 50. He had gray hair but still had dark hair, wrinkles from age, but he didn't look like a raisin, and sometimes he didn't hear well, but he was still strong.

“Do you want the truth?” He asked you. You nodded.

The truth was something he had a hard time telling. He was always a good liar to protect his family, especially his daughter. He didn't want her to live in fear because of living in a commune that was in constant danger of being attacked by a curse. His lies were the cause of his only daughter's giant curiosity.

“My daughter died because of a curse. My wife committed suicide because she couldn't bear the mourning," Wasuke confessed with all the sadness in his heart. "I was a coward and couldn't follow the same path. That's why I'm waiting for the king to decide when it will be my time to join them." Your heart broke when you heard that. It was a tragic fate to suffer. "It's only fair that I too die at the hands of a curse. It's the price I must pay for not protecting my little girl."

You knew perfectly well what he was talking about. There is no worse feeling than the helplessness of not being strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to protect what you love. You had lost your family by not being able to fight adversity. You couldn't even protect that child at the harvest for a day who was killed by your lack of courage. You tightened your bow again, this time, out of frustration that both of you had to go through that.

"I'm so sorry," you stammered. You didn't think his answer would be so heartbreaking.

“Don’t apologize. Life is cruel by nature,” Wasuke sighed.

“Still, I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I know what it’s like to lose your family.”

“I know, Miss.”

Wasuke remembered seeing you cry and scream at the sky for your sin of killing your own blood. He had never seen a person suffer so much physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Even though he was behind the strong walls of the castle, a giant window separated them, and he had a deafness problem, he could still hear the powerful wails of your soul in mourning. Your palms open like books, the blood splattered on the canvas that was your body, and your face in sorrow. It was such a powerful image that he doubted he would ever forget it.

The loud bells woke them both from the memories of their sad pasts. It was the alarm announcing an invasion. This was the second time you had heard it in your time in the castle, and you had an idea of who it could be. Several armed curses ran towards the castle entrance through the battlements that were on the walls, while incoherent instructions were shouted to you.

“Don’t let him pass!” A strong-bodied curse ordered as he summoned a dark screen that slowly covered the entire castle.

“We must go!” Wasuke asked you before taking your arm. You were going to follow him, but you remembered what Sukuna told you on your first day of training:

“In case of an invasion, you will need a cursed bow that allows you to use special arrows to kill curses and use it against sorcerers.” You tightened your grip on the cursed bow he had recently gifted you.

“You go. I will stay here as reinforcement,” you told him, removing your arm so he could leave alone. “Tell everyone to prepare to escape if it gets worse.”

“Are you sure, miss?” Wasuke asked.

“It is an order,” you said, sure.

Wasuke looked at the entrance one last time and nodded, accepting the order you had given him. He returned to the castle at a quick pace to do what he had just been asked to do. You looked ahead before pulling an arrow from your quiver to load your bow. You were completely alone in the courtyard, as all the curses were either outside the castle or on the perimeter. You could only hear the war cries of the curses. You gulped, shaking at not knowing what was going on the other side. You had an idea, but you weren't sure.

The screams turned into wails in a moment. You gripped your bow, mentally preparing for your turn to engage in battle. Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be alone. There was Kenjaku and Uraume to fight next to you. Sukuna can defeat any enemy in the blink of an eye. He would take down this strong foe, wouldn’t he?

The curse screen dissipated into the air, announcing that this curse was annihilated. The chains of the drawbridge began to jingle, and the castle gate swung open. The large bridge fell into place, the ground beneath your feet rumbling. It shook you completely, staggering you in place. You tightly gripped your bow and aimed it at the invader. “A man?” you thought, faltering in your shot.

A tall man, great posture and immaculate aura, walked in confidently, leaving all the curses behind, turning into ash. His spotless black boots thudded against the thick wood, announcing his arrival. His splendid bottle-green military uniform had several gold medals decorating his chest, a black leather belt, and dark pants. He smiled proudly as he combed his blonde hair with black tips back with his fingers.

“Oh?” He stopped upon entering, staring at you in disbelief for a second, as if he had entered the wrong house by accident. “Where is the white-haired guy of questionable sex? He is the one who always greets me,” he asked, confused.

“Did you kill all the curses?” You asked, surprised to see so much ash evaporating into the air.

“You must be new.” The man smiled and confidently approached you. Not knowing his intentions, you stretched the string to load the bow to its limit, but this did not make him stop. “It is a very large weapon, do you know how to use it? I could teach you.” He spoke to you as if you were stupid. You frowned further, this stranger's attitude starting to bother you.

You had recently realized that people like him were the type you disliked the most. Self-centered people who think they can do whatever they please. Yorozu had given you the tools to deal with people like this. You forgave her because she was your sister, but him? This guy was a complete stranger to whom you owed nothing.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” You questioned with the most demanding tone you could fake, you had copied it from Sukuna from hearing it so much.

“I am Commander Naoya Zen'in,” he announced himself with a proud smile. “So I was right,” you thought.

You had only been a servant in the castle for a short time when you heard that name for the first time. You were washing the king's long robes in the backyard with a few other maids. Your fingers were beginning to wrinkle like they do from being in the soapy water for so long. The quiet and the voices of the gossiping maids kept you company. The little peace of the task was interrupted by the alarm bells that echoed throughout the castle. You stopped at the strange noise, having no idea what you were supposed to do.

“An invasion,” one of the servants announced, surprisingly calm.

“Do you think it's Naoya Zen'in?” Another servant, one who had been in the castle the longest, asked, somewhat excited.

“Winter is almost over, most likely,” Her coworker answered, wiping her hands on her apron after finishing her task.

“Who is Naoya Zen'in?” You asked them, butting into the conversation.

“A very handsome commander from an enemy kingdom who comes every year to deliver a letter to the king,” the first one answered. “Let's go see him,” she invited you to go with them to the entrance of the castle.

“No, thank you. I still have to finish washing this,” you politely declined.

The three ladies quickened their pace to find out if it was the man they could see annually. You looked at them curiously. “Was that man so attractive that you had to see him in person?” You wondered. Now you were curious to see this man, but you had a task to finish. You dipped your hands into the soapy water again to try to remove the stubborn blood stains from the king's white robes.

Now you understand why this man caused such a stir among the maids. Someone with such a presence had not been seen since Geto Suguru's corpse appeared in these parts. You looked towards the window that overlooked the great hall, a small group of ladies greeted Naoya from the safe point. The flattered young man returned the gesture.

“Women being women,” he sighed with a big smile. “Anyway, I have an important letter from Zen'in.”

“You can give it to me and leave,” you told him without lowering your bow.

“I think you don't understand your position as a female,” Naoya came closer without a hint of fear nor respect for you. “You're not going to be able to stop me.”

“No!” You shouted, making him stop at the loud objection. “You're the one who doesn't understand.” You lowered your torso so that the arrow's trajectory would change from his torso to his face. “One shot, and you're a dead man, commander Zen'in.”

Naoya smiled at the offense. Not because of the clear threat of death, but because a woman thought she could be a match against him. You and your pink bow were nothing compared to him. A replaceable servant couldn't be in front of a great commander of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world. He was about to teach you a lesson, and it would be the hard way.

"Are you sure you don't want me to save you? I doubt a girl as weak as you would survive long here," Naoya offered, giving you one last chance to redeem yourself.

"I don't need you to save me," you spat angrily.

"Fine," Naoya pulled a knife from his back, spinning it in the palm of his hand to wield it. "Whatever you say."

You let go of the rope when you clearly saw his intentions to hurt you, and the arrow flew into his face. He dodged it with his knife before lunging at you in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, he was already on top of you and his knife was already at your throat. It had all happened too fast. You had no idea how he had reached you so quickly. The blade swung down as Naoya's smile grew wider. You raised your hand to deflect it, but it wasn't going to make it in time. It came so fast that you couldn't even close your eyes to await your fate.

Out of nowhere, a gigantic fist sent Naoya flying, completely away from you. The powerful commander ended up being slammed into the nearest wall. Naoya groaned in pain before falling to the ground. You were perplexed at how bizarre that had been. You touched your neck on instinct, you didn't have a scratch on it. You sat down on the grass to look around for your unexpected savior.

At first glance, he looked like any other human, but up close, things were different. He was a curse with skin covered in stitches as if his body was made of patches. He had long, blue-gray hair that reached past his neck, and was divided into three large locks with bows at the ends. He also dressed like any other human. He was wearing a black shawl that separated into three pieces on the left sleeve and matching pants with white shoes.

“I'm just arriving, and they're already welcoming me with a sorcerer to kill, how fun!” The curse exclaimed as excited as a child in the park.

Naoya stood up with difficulty, dusting off his uniform. You stood up in the same way to retrieve your bow and load it with another arrow. You approached the curse with confidence, since it had saved you, even if it had only been for its own entertainment.

“Are you okay, miss?” The curse asked you with a big smile without taking your eyes off Naoya.

“Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” You told him, along with a small bow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mahito, I am the commander of the Jogo kingdom. You must be the lady that the king ordered me to protect.” He introduced himself. “Did the king ask you that?” You asked yourself surprised. “So let me take care of this stupid sorcerer.”

“Who are you calling stupid, you fucking curse?!” Zen'in exclaimed before launching into combat for a second round.

Mahito pushed you away suddenly to transform his arms into two tentacles with dozens of knives on them and run towards his fast opponent. Naoya's knife challenged Mahito's along with the clicking of metals. The curse laughed as if it were a game, angering Naoya even more for underestimating him. They were both moving at speeds your eyes could barely keep up with, but you loaded your bow with another arrow anyway. You tried to aim for Naoya, but he was stupidly fast and Mahito was in the way. “Maybe it’s best I don’t get involved now,” you thought with some disappointment.

Mahito changed one of his tentacles into a large sword that fell on top of Zen'in. Naoya barely dodged it, his breathing ragged from the cursed energy he was expending by keeping his technique active for so long. "Who is this guy?!" He thought annoyed before moving away with a couple of backflips until he landed on his feet.

"Fine, you win..." Naoya took the envelope out of his jacket and threw it at you like a ninja star, landing on the grass in front of you. "Just for today," he said before running towards the nearest wall to climb it and escape.

"Oh, not so fast!" You exclaimed annoyed before pulling the rope.

You looked for a target before he left your sight. You focused on his back, which was the area that was free, as he climbed the wall as if he were an agile ant. You let go of the rope and the arrow flew through the air. Naoya saw it coming and dodged out of its path, but the arrow unexpectedly changed its trajectory and stuck in his back. Naoya bit his tongue to stop himself from letting out a cry of pain and continuing on his escape route. In less than a second, he had disappeared from your sight and Mahito's.

"Ah, the king is going to scold me for running away!" Mahito whined, disappointed in his efforts.

"How come that arrow didn't stop him?" You asked yourself confused. Clearly, it hit him, but he still slipped out of your hands like a damn cockroach.

"Those Zen'in have a very strong pride. That's probably what it was," Mahito complained. "But you're very good." He gave you a thumbs up. You smiled slightly.

You looked back at the card that was lying on the grass. You picked it up to examine it. It was a brown envelope with the Zen'in Kingdom's crest stamped on a wax seal at the opening. A purple orchid on the stamp decorated the envelope, giving the package a more elegant touch.

“Gimme that,” Mahito snatched it from you, ready to open it.

“You shouldn't open it,” you warned him. “It's for the king.”

“It's from an enemy,” Mahito said as he looked for a way to open it without destroying the contents. “It could contain poison, activate some bomb or a weird technique they made up. Believe me, these Zen'in are capable of anything.”

Mahito pushed you roughly to get you away from the possible threat. You had no choice but to listen to him. This was an unusual curse. He had a playful attitude, very different from what you imagined a commander should have. You covered your ears as soon as he finally opened the envelope, in case it was a bomb. Instead of a glass or smoke bomb, it turned out to be a confetti bomb. It shot towards Mahito's face, surprising him immediately, as a colored piece of paper fell into his eye.

“Oh!” You quickly approached him. Mahito rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get it off. “Let me see,” you asked.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his hands away to meet his different eyes, since his left eye was navy blue and the other, gray. Even though it was a strange looking curse, his eyes were very pretty. You blew into his eye so that the paper flew away. Once near the tear duct, you reached for it with your thumb to remove it completely.

Your touch was very kind and warm. Mahito was so used to humans treating him so badly that it was a little uncomfortable for him that you were treating him so calmly and with such appreciation. He now understood why Sukuna had chosen you as the future queen, you were a special human.

“That's it,” you smiled at him. “What does the letter say?”

“You read it, my eye hurts,” Mahito reluctantly gave it to you, rubbing his injured eye.

You opened the envelope to check its contents. You thought it was a declaration of war or some important meeting, but no. Nothing like it. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you saw what it was.

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @catobsessedlady

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

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eternalstarrlight · 2 months ago

Text

Star-Crossed

(All I have to say is... I'm so sorry. But also... not really.🙃)

~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~

Author's Note: No shipwar drama in the comments, please! Just enjoy reading this angsty little thing... and shedding a tear... or two. But enough spoilers, read on! 🥀

I do not own ACOTAR, nor any of it's affiliated characters, this is merely fanfiction to gush and cry over. Have fun! 🩵

~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~

Azriel stared at the flames crackling in the hearth of the Town House, the place having become a sort of refuge of late, so much quieter than the House of Wind these days. Peaceful, in a way, with it's long held familiarity and memories.

Do you truly wish to be alone?

Her question rose, unbidden, and he closed his eyes at evocation of her words, the softness of her voice, the way she'd looked when she'd asked him that earlier tonight.

Yes. He'd said, keeping his face blank and unyielding to emotion. But alas, it was no good, not when it came to her, because he saw it in the fathomless depths of her eyes, no clearer than if he was reading her mind.

Liar.

But she hadn't pressed further, merely nodded once, and left him alone. Like he'd proclaimed he'd wanted to be.

His gaze re-met the dimming embers before him, as he consented. She was right. He was a liar. Had to be. If he wasn't, then he'd do something foolish. Something that would take them both down a path that would only lead to pain and destruction and ruin.

He didn't want that for her. She deserved every happiness that this world had to offer. Deserved to be with someone that matched her light and goodness... not wreathed in shadows and darkness.

A charred piece of wood snapped, and Azriel shifted in his chair. The fire having completely died down now, leaving only the faint, lingering smell of smoke. He rose from his seat, making his way to a wide-arched window to peer out into the star-flecked night.

It was Starfall.

Radiant streaks of light danced across the sky as he looked up. As always, it was nothing less than breathtaking, the display often making one reflect and ponder upon their life.

Perhaps he'd been wrong to leave everyone so early, to not stay late until the glow of morning. But even as guilt ate at him for disappearing, he didn't regret his departure... hadn't been able to find it within himself to stay... couldn't bear to watch her eventually find her way to him.

Her mate.

Azriel's heart twisted at that. A daggered reminder that she was never meant to be his. Couldn't be his. And yet, why was it her heart that beckoned him? In the same way the wind sung to his wings to take flight, he could hear her.

He shook his head, partially leaning into the pillar of the window as he crossed his arms. Maybe this was his punishment, for all the atrocities he'd committed, destined to watch her be with someone else for the rest of his life.

Sweat beaded his brow at the thought, making him swallow hard. It would be torture, worse than anything he'd endured until now. The eleven years of imprisonment as a child... Training and serving under Rhysand's father... Seeing Mor bring male after male to her bed for centuries...

A suffering worse than death.

His fists clenched, the scarred and tattered skin stretching tightly across his knuckles. It felt as if he were back in the prison of his childhood again, the darkness creeping in... the cold, dank air suffocating... Leaving only a void. Nothingness.

Would he survive losing her? He wondered, before scoffing at himself. How could he lose something he'd never even had? It was ridiculous, bridging on the edge of insanity. She's not yours. He sharply reminded himself. As if that would help anything. She may not have been his, but he was undeniably, irrevocably hers.

His gaze travelled along the trails of starlight with a wistful half-smile as he acknowledged the truth. Not everyone was allowed epic love stories that rivaled fairytales. No, many were found unworthy and left wanting.

They weren't Rhys and Feyre after all... They were not bound by Fate's hand. Nothing tied them together...

No... for them, the stars had failed to listen... and their dreams went unanswered.

~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~⋆☆⋆~

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the clatter of the front door. He tensed, mentally preparing himself for it to be one of his friends checking in on him and demanding answers for why he'd left so abruptly.

But as he turned, making his face impassive to greet them...

There she was.

Her unbound curls windblown, golden in the soft faelight, her chest heaving as if she'd run here, now standing frozen in the entryway.

"Elain," he was unable to keep the surprise from his voice, the flash of shock from his features.

She said nothing for a long moment, long enough where he began to question if his mind was playing tricks on him... if she wasn't really there at all.

"I don't wish to be alone either," she finally spoke with a broken whisper, tone echoing all his own tumultuous feelings.

He held her bright gaze, wondering what had happened to make her come here, assessing her for any harm. But the more he studied her, the more he began to realize that perhaps it wasn't just herself she'd fled here for... perhaps, she'd been worried about him... had somehow known that he...

His throat tightened at the thought. That he'd needed her.

As if on some deep internal instinct, he abandoned his place at the window to make his way to the center of the room before reaching out and offerring her a hand. An invitation, a concession to both his former lie and the yearning to feel her skin against his, "Then don't be."

He didn't miss the way her lips parted in a sigh of relief, her shoulders loosening as her face lit up. A smile curved her mouth as she stepped forward, closer and closer her feet carried her to him, until...

Her hand met his.

And in that moment, everything felt inexplicably, right.

#elriel #elain x azriel #elriel month 2025 #starcrossed #acotar #sjm #sarah j maas #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel month #elrielmonth #pro elriel

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stoneagedevil · 11 months ago

Text

Reunion (I’m Not in Love Pt. 2) | Alastor x f!Reader

CW/TW: suicide, gore, death, murder, predatory behavior, blood, initial unrequited feelings, insecurities involving looks.

-♥️-

It is only when you lose everything, that you have the power to do anything. After all, what are the consequences?

There is nothing left.

There is only you. Head throbbing after a bullet went through it and a subsequent smack to…pavement?

There is only you filled with grief from an unrequited love you’d sunk over half of your lifespan into and a world you can’t quite understand.

There is only…

You.

Until you heard the screams. Cautiously peeking around the corner of the alleyway you landed in, you witnessed the abhorrent atrocities committed by beings you couldn’t quite comprehend. They were inhuman and inhumane.

You were inhuman and inhumane, taking notice finally of just how sensitive and high up your ears suddenly were. Perhaps your face was thoroughly scrambled by the bullet and you didn’t die? Impossible. But it would just be your luck wouldn’t it? Surviving a point blank shot to the face with a large caliber. You reached your hands- claws- claws?!

Sidetracked, your eyes gaped at the change in your hands. They were pitch black, fading into your skin tone that had lost its vibrancy the farther you trailed up your arms. Surely it was a malfunction or flaw within the rifle that caused an abundance of gun powder to color your limbs black? But…that didn’t explain the claws in place of your dull fingernails. You continued to reach towards the top of your head, startled by your new fuzzy appendages.

They were your ears.

Quickly darting out of the alleyway, you faced yourself in the reflection of a nearby storefront window. Only, this wasn’t the Y/N you talked to before ending your life.

This was…this was something entirely different. Someone entirely different.

But sure as the days are long, it was you. Your ears reminiscent of a deer, and twisting your spine and neck to look behind you, you were adorned with the tail of one too.

“What on Earth-“ You cut yourself off. Earth? No. This couldn’t be. You most certainly died. And if you were dead, and yet alive, that had to mean one thing.

You were in the beginning stages of your afterlife, which in turn meant one thing or another: you were either in Heaven or Hell. Taking into account the potential love rivals you murdered and your demonic appearance, you could only assume the latter option were true.

Hell. You were in Hell.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out all by yourself? It’s a dangerous world out here, little girl.” A gravelly voice brought you out of your daze. You whipped your head around to face the source of the slimy words. It was another demon, wolf-like in appearance with a smile that looked as if he would eat a grandmother.

“I would stay away.” Is all you said. Truly, you were a deer in the headlights. What did he mean by turf war? And how were you going to prevent yourself from becoming Little Red?

“And if I don’t stay away?” He challenged, slimy tongue running over rows of sharp teeth, inching closer as if to tease you. As if he preferred to play with his food.

“Then I’ll have no choice but to kill you. I’d rather not, if I can help it.” You replied. Maybe you could trick him into thinking you were dangerous, but given your new form, you doubted it. A prey animal. How unfortunate when your newest enemy was a wolf.

He barked out a hearty laugh, thoroughly amused by your polite warning, but continued to close in on you.

You felt something underneath the surface of your soft flesh. A mix of anger, of the warmth of a light, of the cold of a shadow, of the bubbling of champagne, all fueled by the sheer audacity of a man who couldn’t let you get your bearings in such a strange place. Couldn’t you ever get a fucking break?!

It happened suddenly, the cracking of pavement sounding beneath your hooves, vines dressed in thorns sharper than knives rose up from the crevices, almost shielding you from the perpetrator. Following suit, poison ivy twisted around, blocking any means of escape for the offending wolf demon. Your lack of fear and something else you couldn’t place told you these earthly vines of torture were yours.

You looked back up at the mangy mutt, a soft but dangerous smile stretching across you face, “Congratulations, my friend. You’ll be the first of many.” You flicked your pointer finger at him, and the vines shot out, tightening around his torso like snakes to mice. He yelped and whined, fighting against them. You were annoyed by the sounds he made, another set of vines wrapping around his unfortunate looking face, clamping down on his long snout like a muzzle.

“Good dogs are quiet.” You said.

It was like life on the surface. Smothering and strangling the life out of the women who had romantic intentions for Alastor. Women who told you that you’d never be right for him. That no one could ever love someone so poor as you. Your heart swelled at the thought of him. He would be so disappointed in you, surely.

But…

He’s not here.

There is only you.

The mutt of a man’s struggling subsided, his body falling limp from the hold of your vines and landing with an audible thud to the ground.

You were a firm believer that life was what you made it. You couldn’t make your life better, especially without your Alastor, so you ended it. But now, maybe the afterlife could be what you made it. He wasn’t here, you both separated by different plains of existence, and surely when he died, he’d go to Heaven.

Far, far away from you where he belonged. Where he surely wanted to be.

You’d been too pliant for too long. Holding in an anger that felt released ever so slightly when you killed so freely. Here in Hell, you didn’t have to hide your victims, and in their second deaths, they could be used as tools to earn respect around here.

Perhaps it was far better to be feared than loved.

Yes. The afterlife could be what you make it too. And you were going to make your afterlife everyone else’s problem.

——

You were deemed “Smother Nature.” One of the only clever names given to an Overlord in Hell. You strangled, smothered, and swindled your way to the top, becoming a feared but not unfair Overlord in just a few short years.

Within that span of time, you became more accustomed to your new body and its capabilities.

You were a deer demon, specifically a doe when in your regular form, but when in your more powerful demonic form, your skull would sprout wide black antlers with vines snaking around each one like a crown of thorns. From the tearing of skin atop your head at the site where these new extensions of you sprouted, blood would trickle down your face. Initially it was painful, but now? It only added to how absolutely terrifying you could be. Here, fear meant power, and you basked in it.

This was the only time you loved yourself. You were someone to answer to. Someone powerful and dangerous, who didn’t take anything laying down. You’d killed several Overlords in order to gain this title, and you were proud of it.

Every death at your hands or vines was a surge of adrenaline coursing throughout your body, and you couldn’t have been more thrilled with your decision in looking down the barrel of that rifle.

However, someone else had felt entirely different about their demise at first.

——

Distraught was an understatement. How was he supposed to visit you and his mother? Who else would get you your favorite flowers? Not just any random bouquet, but one composed of your most favorites?

How would he ever see you again?

Seeing as he was in Hell, that confirmed the existence of a Heaven, and surely you’d be up there.

He let out a growl of frustration, a long arm striking the side of a building, a spiderweb of cracks forming from the force. What a surprise, Alastor had committed atrocities during life so selfishly, and now they’d barred him from seeing you ever again.

He should’ve been more careful when burying that man in the swamp. He knew it was hunting season, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Even if it wasn’t, the police that were initially closing in on that woman-strangler shifted their focus onto him since the other killer’s disappearance. He always warned you about walking home alone at night because of that strangler. You’d always brush it off.

A snap from a twig and his head snapped towards the sound, and that blasted hunter shot well before he could ever think about what he was shooting at.

The shot connected at Alastor’s forehead, perfectly centered between his eyes. One of the best shots he’d seen since he took you on hunting excursions when you both were alive.

His heart tightened at the thought of you. You were all he ever seemed to think about.

He hated himself. He hated this body. A prey animal. A buck. Pathetic little antlers akin to toothpicks until he was in his more powerful form.

Nothing down here mattered. If you weren’t here, then nothing mattered. Down here, it was survival of the fittest, and it seemed he needed to make more of a statement in order to curb any ideas that he was weak, and considering his affinity for all things radio-related, he had just the idea to make it a reality.

It didn’t take him long at all to unlock his full demonic potential, hijacking the sound waves and crackling onto every radio in Hell, he made his debut appearance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I interrupt this regularly scheduled programming to bring you the worst thing to ever happen to you sorry sinners since the day of your demise!” Screams of terror and agony rang out from all devices in Hell, reflecting the sheer agony he’s felt ever since he lost you. How therapeutic it was to inflict pain on others, and yet how simultaneously unsatisfying that they’d never feel a fraction of the pain he felt.

If only he knew that your little doe ears flicked to your radio in pure shock.

——

It had to be him. No one else sounded like that. Talked like that. Made your heart race like that.

Ever since being here, the only thing that terrified you was that initial run-in with that wolfish sorry excuse of a man, but now that was topped by the sound of Alastor’s voice filtering through your radio, accompanied by the screams of his victims.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of Alastor, just of facing the unrequited feelings you initially shot yourself to get away from.

Why was he here? He was such a gentleman in his life on the surface, how could it be that he’s here? More screams cut your thoughts short.

He’s so…used to this. So used to torture that he welcomes it with open arms.

He…he had to be like you, no? Living a double life, teetering on the edges of a socially acceptable, functioning member of society, and a cold-blooded killer?

A part of you salivated at the thought that maybe he killed for you at least once, like you’d done for him so many times.

No. No he wouldn’t do that for you.

Your tail wagged and your legs craved to bolt out towards wherever Alastor was. But who knew if he even wanted to see you again? You looked into the mirror of your vanity where the radio rested.

Were you ugly? Would he find this form hideous?

Your fist collided with the mirror, shattering into hundreds of tiny images of you.

You rested your face in your palms, a took a deep breath.

…what did he look like?

The temptation to see him was so strong, it was as if you were caught in a trance that forced you out of your luxurious penthouse, a testament to the many lives you ended and souls you puppeteer. The over abundance of hope held in your body leaked out in the form of green grass and clover that sprouted from each footstep you took.

“Please let it be him.” You whispered to no one in particular. “Please let it be him.”

——

It felt like no amount of bloodshed was enough. He wanted others to feel the hurt he felt internally, and yet, despite the fact that the streets were painted with the lives of the sinners caught in his clutches, it simply wasn’t enough.

The void in his heart and soul was gaping, and he attempted to fill it with the viscera and gore of those he slaughtered, the taste of bitterness and iron filling his maw.

“Y/N if you’re looking down on me, look away.” He whispered to himself, hoping you’d hear his plea and turn away from the carnage he created in your name.

“Alastor?”

This truly was Hell. He was hearing your angelic voice calling his name.

“Alastor?!”

What hurt most was that every part of this eternal punishment was deserved, he just didn’t know if he could accept it.

“Alastor!”

No. He couldn’t accept this infernal reality. If he had to hear your voice but never see you again, he was sure he wouldn’t make it in this afterlife.

His train of thought was cut clean off by a harsh yanking around his throat that sent him flying backwards into the ground.

In shock, he bolted upright, fingers moving towards his throat to cup it gently, as if to assess the damage. Instead of being met with the warmth of his demonic flesh, his fingertips met something cold, and metal-like.

There were no words for how you felt about this situation. How did you…how…?

How did you have a chain around his soul if you never initiated a deal with him? This was unheard of. Absolutely unorthodox.

While you were staring in shock at the glimmering white chain that you held in your hand, his red eyes drifted from the chain up towards the culprit who yanked it, forcing him to the ground.

His eyes widened when he saw who was at the other end of it. He lost his breath for the third time that day.

The first being the impact of his fall.

The second being the chain pulling on his neck.

The third being the vision of you, which could absolutely not be real.

“Y/N?” He whispered, wishing he could take it back. He hadn’t said your name in so long, it was like a button that made his tear ducts malfunction. His vision was blurry, his breathing shaky.

“I-“ you opened your mouth then immediately closed it. It truly was him. He looked different, hair longer, skin grey, teeth sharp. And he was red. So, so red. But it was him.

Your Alastor.

He slowly got up from the ground, feeling as though if he moved too quickly, you’d dissipate like a mist. He couldn’t handle that.

The chain you held in your claws slacked because of his inching towards you. You debated backing away, but his eyes, despite being the color of blood, of warnings, of danger, you were sure they’d never looked to soft.

And they were looking right at you.

You. The object of all of his wants, desires, and affections. Too stupid to realize it in your lifetime, yet brought together by the very thing that made him realize the depth of his love for you; death.

You weren’t sure when, but you started to cry.

His heart felt so heavy. Heavy with love, with grief, with a hatred for the way he made you cry.

His claws reached out, cradling your wet face, the most gentle action he performed with them that day.

Your body betrayed your mind, your head leaning into the warmth of his large hands. You thought he certainly wouldn’t want you to, but your heart couldn’t help it.

His thumbs carefully wiped away the tears on your cheeks, being mindful of the sharpness of his claws. “Is it really you?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked as though you were in pain. Your ears drooped. This isn’t the way you wanted him to see you. You looked-

“You’re as stunning as the day I lost you.”

You sucked your lips in, trying to hold in the sob that was fighting its way out of your body, and you closed the distance between the two of you in the tightest embrace you could possibly muster, buried your face in the lapels of his overcoat.

He held onto you like you’d disappear for a second time, finger carding through your hair, nose intaking your scent. You smelled just like you did on Earth, only, with more floral notes.

For the first time since you got to Hell, you sobbed. “I’m so sorry Alastor.” You wailed.

He was sure you could both hear his heart audibly crack, “You’ve nothing to be sorry about, my darling.” He tightened his hold onto you. He was terrified he’d say something wrong, to have you take your life a second time in order to run away from him. “I’m the one who will forever be sorry. I-I was such a fool.”

You looked up at him, and shook your head. “I- I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me again.” You admitted.

“Darling, every waking moment of my life after you’d gone was spent wishing you were by my side once again. What I did to deserve my wish coming true, I’ll never know, but I’d do it over again if it meant I could have you.” Your foreheads pressed together, entry wounds kissing. “Y/N, no words could ever convey how sorry I am for treating you the way I did. I was so blinded by my own ignorance and arrogance that I couldn’t see just how madly, deeply, and quickly I’d fallen in love with you.”

You searched his eyes for a hint of an untruth, but found none. You laughed wetly, sniffling. “I love you too. More than anything. To live without you wasn’t an option, Alastor.”

His smile tightened at your last sentence. “I feel the very same way.”

You were counting in your head when to act on your emotions, trying to build up the courage.

One.

Two.

You never got to three. You didn’t like landing on three because that’s when everyone expected something to happen, and you just couldn’t wait any longer.

You took Alastor’s face in your hands, leaning into him while bringing him closer with your arms. Your kiss wasn’t how you always dreamed it to be, and yet, it was somehow better. It tasted of bitterness, of sweetness, of blood and death, and of life. He smelled of iron, of rot, of cinnamon and a fireplace.

And then it overwhelmingly smelt of roses.

You parted, both looking around in shock at the garden of rose bushes your powers created. You were initially bashful, but Alastor’s smile never looked brighter, laughing as he took your face in his hands and kissed you again, looking around as the rose bushes grew even larger.

“It seems the best way to get you flowers is to kiss you, hmm?” He teased. “We’ll have our very own Garden of Eden by the end of the day.” He teased softly.

“Not before you tell me why you’re down here.” You lightly scolded him, no real anger of malice behind the question.

He froze for a second, wondering if he’d scare you away if you knew what he’d done. “My dear, I-“ you placed a finger over his lips.

“Alastor, nothing you could say would ever make me stop loving you.” You removed your finger from his face and gesturing for him to keep going.

“I murdered many men who preyed on women…” he admitted, looking off to the side.

“You’re leaving something out.” Your neck craning to follow his line of sight.

“I also murdered men who meant to court you…” his claws reached up behind his neck to scratch at it, but he was reminded of the chain around his throat.

“You killed for me?” You said, astonished. Alastor mistook it for silent horror, until he saw clover sprouting out from around your hooves. He looked into your eyes, and saw nothing but an unbridled passion for him and his actions, leading to his cheeks to burn red as the rest of him. “I have something to confess myself.” You said at this revelation. “I strangled multiple women because they sought your heart. I couldn’t allow any competition whatsoever.” You played with your fingers nervously, afraid of what his reaction would be.

He was sure that you were made for him, and he for you. No other woman could compare to the lovely creature that was you; homicidal tendencies and all. He kissed you again, having to put this surge of love somewhere.

You looked at his throat then, at the glowing white collar around it. He shivered when your hands traced the metal, the very hands that had wrapped around so many necks before. The softest and most delicate hands he’d ever known that had snuffed out so many lives in the name of your love for him.

“I don’t understand how this happened, Alastor. We never made a deal. I shouldn’t own your soul.”

He thought back to a human version of himself, a broken man who pledged his afterlife to you. A decision he wouldn’t ever regret.

He took your hands in his larger ones. “Darling, you have all of me, heart and soul. I know you’ll take wonderful care of it.” He kissed the inside of one of your palms. “However, if you are going to pull on the leash so harshly, next time I’d prefer a warning.”

-♥️-

I would say I apologize for the wait, but patience is a virtue! I hope you all enjoyed this part 2, and I appreciate the support my last fic got. Please know I appreciated all comments, reblogs, and hearts you all so generously gave. ♥️

TAGLIST: @diffidentphantom @xalygatorx @whitewolfsoldat @littledolly2345 @purple-umbrella-girl @milkissesx @cinnamon-galaxies @michi-keinz

And apologies to @psychoaxo and @ari42 I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason.

#x reader #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin x you #alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel

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rakiah · 11 months ago

Note

Musing on Leovil as I was rewatching the classic Snow White and a thought struck me: out of all 3, Vil is only one who actually understands what love is. The Evil Queen/Grimhilde outright dismisses it as non-existant while Snow White naively falls in love with the first handsome face that comes up. Meanwhile it took time for Vil to fall for Leona and understands that staying in love requires effort.

So a little drabble came to mind:

Fools, the lot of them. Despite not being related by blood, they were similar in their misbegotten conceptions of love.

His mentor, though wiser than him a thousand other subjects, belives that true love is simply doesn't exist. That any form love takes is meaningless and easy to erase. Grimhilde sees love as something that weakens, something that leaves one open to manipulation and defeat.

His mentor's enemy, though he himself has no real qualms with her, belives true love to be a pure thing. Something that can conquer all and leave naught but sunshine and rainbows in its wake. Snow White sees love as the ultimate goodness, something that is inheritly of light and not possible amongst the dark.

Fools, both of them.

Vil knows quite well what love is. It is time, patience, understanding, maturity, and dedication. Falling in love is random, but staying in love requires constant effort. Love was neither good nor evil, simply a feeling to be felt by people. The only thing Snow got right was that love could indead conquer. It could empower someone to commit the bravest of acts or the worst of atrocities for the sake of others. Vil would know. Had you asked him before, he would have said that murder was excessive and a mere waste of resources that carried far too much risk. Now he wouldn't hesitate to plunge a blade into the throat of another if it meant Leona could smile again. He didn't hesitate to poison all those statesmen that tried to have Leona shipped off to some desperate princess on the corner of the world. On that note, Leona also didn't hesitate to reciprocate when he had a fair share of Vil's rivals mauled by those hyenas.

Love is not pure, Vil muses. It's rather intense. After all, those nights spent together had never been pure. Though it did grow into love.

And even now, as Vil listens to his mentor go on with her advice to never love another if he wishes to remain strong, Vil can subtly feel the fruit of Leona's reciprocation growing inside of him. Twins, if the oracle was correct.

He can't help but smile, knowing that Snow White and Grimhilde would both be as red as Riddle if they new. The former embaressed and the latter enraged. He could see it now, his dear mentor marching all the way down to the Savanna just to yell at Scar for his "failure as a royal mentor" and just poison Leona right then and there.

Well, Vil had been pondering how to tell Leona he was going to be a father and the cat had been a bit too smug for his own good recently. But then again, he doesn't want to be a single parent.

Decisions, decisions.

Terrible overdue answer, I’m so sorry for the delay! 💦 I struggled a lot to find something to doodle with your gorgeous text because I really wanted to. And people need to read those great lines! Sorry for making you wait and thank you so much for sharing this! I love it! 🙏

So Evil Queen Vil will be.

#answer #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #drabble #I have zero time with my current comic work that’s the real struggle #I want to doodle for every asks…#but time…#life is truly unfair

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rulernogard156 · 3 months ago

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This story was written by the super talented and amazing @utterimmolation

"A Chance at Redemption."

The first thing Horus noticed was the quiet.

The Warp whispered, barked, *screamed* to him constantly these days. It was harder to hear himself anymore. The Gods told him secrets and truths, but his own thoughts became quieter and heavier. He was so much more nowadays, but there was a tiny gasp buried deep within that dared to murmur that he had only diminished.

He's gotten used to pushing that doubt away. The Gods assure him of the righteousness of his path, his legacy, his drive to see the False Emperor dashed from his ostentatious chair.

But here, on one of Etheria's twelve moons, standing across from his lone sister, his head is shockingly, disconcertingly ~~mercifully ~~, *quiet*.

The siblings study each other in silence for several moments. This is one of the least developed moons of the dozen, which is no doubt why Adora had chosen it. He briefly wonders if she had rigged it to blow or perhaps intends to repay him and his Sons in kind for Istvaan but dropping nuclear armaments from orbit but dismisses the idea. Adora can be surprisingly ruthless, but she would not dare risk damage to the moons and especially not Etheria and its people.

It is a character trait that makes her predictable but dangerous, much like Vulkan: their love of mortals makes them easy to maneuver, but strikes against them must be fast, hard and final, lest they rise again with greater and overwelming fury and unfortunately, that last part has proven remarkably difficult to overcome.

"You know why I am here," he finally breaks the silence.

Adora's mouth twists. "I do," she acknowledges.

"And?"

Adora takes a half step forward, her honor guard shadowing her every twitch, like children hiding behind their mother's skirts, unwilling to let her be parted from them. He hears Abaddon scoff quietly, his First Captain disgusted at the weakness he perceives.

Horus sees what it truly is. Love, beyond reason or doubt, beyond sense. The Sons of She-Ra love her, with such intensity that to lose her risks triggering a fury to rival that of Angron himself. Of course, perhaps that is not so surprising. The Slave of Nuceria hated so much only because he had once loved so fiercely and completely that its loss had stripped him of all humanity and rendered him little more than a beast.

"You come to me with a proposition. Let me give one instead: turn away from your Rebellion. Disavow the Chaos Gods. Disavow the Emperor. Disavow the butchers and sadists and monsters you've aligned yourself with. And stay here."

Horus blinks, surprised beside himself. An appeal to him hadn't been unexpected. An opportunity to be granted asylum had. "You would welcome me to Etheria?"

"You would have to pay penance. To even *begin* to pay for the crimes you've committed, the atrocities you've done... would take millenia. But you would be free and protected from both the Warp and the Emperor. I would stand with you. You could find redemption. Could help me build a universe of connectivity, communication...love. You could find peace." The Princess of Power slowly extended her hand. "You need only ask."

The voice that has been silenced and stifled for so long under the burning Gaze of Chaos is screaming at him now, louder than it's ever been. He is abruptly aware, for the first time in weeks, how grimy and heavy his armor feels, how hungry and thirsty and tired he feels. He...he cannot remember the last time he ate. Slept.

He looks past his sister, up at the distant glow of Etheria, and remembers the peace of the world. The smiles of children. The brotherhood of Space Marines, learning, training...living. He remembers being...happy.

He looks at his sister's hand, and his soul screams at him to take it.

He swings Worldbreaker instead.

It meets her golden shield in an explosion of rainbow Warp energy, and both Primarchs are pushed back several feet. Their respective sons stumble, and many fall.

Horus looks at her and sees only sadness and pity, and he feels a hate to rival that which he feels for his very Father.

Abaddon must give the order, as the Word Bearer ships and that of Etheria's fleet begin to fire at each other. Adora has her sword now and she's coming towards him but he ~~doesn't want to fight her~~ can't waste time now, not when the Emperor's gaze searches for him and Ultramar's fleets grow closer to reinforcing Terra.

He presses the teleporter on his belt and slams back into his quarters on the *Vengeful Spirit* only to fall to his knees as the protective aura of Etheria's territory disappears and the God's Gazes return to him with renewed focus and force. They see his doubts, his fears and they sooth him even as they shred at him for his impudence.

He does not know how long he kneels in his quarters, body, mind and soul wracked by agony. He only knows his fury is incandescent when a Son arrives to inform him the World Bearer fleet has been defeated and they are in-route to Mars. He dashes the Marine and two dozen serfs against the walls before the rages abates itself even slightly, and as he makes his way ti the bridge he promises himself this:

When the Emperor lies dead at his feet, he will return, with all of his forces, and lay waste to Etheria, until its seas run red, it's sky turns black and Adora's wife is nothing more than a new carpet before his bed.

--------

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 years ago

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Bestie I'm dying to see your take one yandere fem delinquent

yes bestie. here you go. no aesthetics for now since i’m pretty busy 😭

tw// girlie doesnt know what consent is, abusive/yan dynamics

yan! fem delinquent is somehow more hornier than yan! masc delinquent?

is there a rhyme or reason for such a headcannon? no. just horni.

she loves dragging you out from class and fucking your brains out 24/7. especially if you’re a stubborn/studious person. “it’s the best way to relieve your stress” she says as she adjusts her strap.

unlike most yans she never puts a label on the two of you. people don’t know if you’re just one of her toys or something more. mostly cause she a girlboss like that and doesn’t want her name to be tied to anything but her achievements (something you two share and what she fell for you for) but also cause it’s for your safety.

you inspire her so much. it would be an understatement to say that you are her entire world.

now what separates her from good old love to creep yandere?

well first of all, she never asks for your consent. for anything. she assumes she knows better and that you should thank her for it.

you never asked for that professor to be beaten to oblivion for making such a vague question on the quiz? well at least now they know not to do that and mess with your studies!

that other girl that you’re close with doesn’t see you that way and neither do you but yan! fem! delinquent still bullied her til she dropped out? don’t you see all the looks she was giving you, she totally wanted to whisk you away!

so on and so forth.

yan! fem delinquent most likely has connections to keep her in the school despite the atrocities she committed and the ones listed above aren’t even the worst of it.

this is just my opinion, but one of the worst things she could do is to bump up your grades falsely and make your competition /rivals fail cause it’s both super obvious and does not help reader like at all in the future-

but anyways i like to think she becomes yan! fem mafia boss in the future but that’s a story for another day.

#hns.txt💬#hns.ask💌#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fem x reader #fem yandere #yandere scenario #yandere headcannons #yandere concept #yandere idea #yandere delinquent

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eepyuii · 2 years ago

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frostbite — pt. 4

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; brief mentions of drowning, fighting (?)

note ; i’m ngl i’m kinda proud of this chapter, i may have done the smidgenmost cooking. also i will be making a masterlist soon!!

previous | next | masterlist

liyue harbor looked its prettiest at night.

the lantern lights made the city’s colors pop out so much more. from afar, the harbor looked like it’s own galaxy of yellow stars or like a celestial being as lively as its nightlife. this isn’t even the first time you’ve thought this- zapolyarny palace also seemed infinitely more majestic when the lights turned on during the evening. it almost made you enjoy working late shifts.

almost.

unfortunately, aesthetics can’t sugarcoat the things the fatui has done and that you’ve been a witness to. the mass production of delusions, the robbery of gnoses and let’s not even get started on the things the doctor has done. even with eleven harbingers, who all have their fair share of unorthodox acts, don’t seem to rival the blasphemies your very boss has committed. blasphemies you’ve only watched, sitting neatly and keeping your mouth shut, and done nothing about. you’re only undeservingly grateful you weren’t present for the majority of his atrocities. but then again, who even were you to keep count of divine punishments you would never provide to the sinners who warranted them?

plus, now wasn’t the time to dwell on entirely so much.

if you stood lifelessly in the middle of the street for any longer, someone might get suspicious. you choose to head towards the coastal side of the harbor, merely observing the crowds walk back and forth between the street businesses. a few steps further and you reach a small street food restaurant- wanmin restaurant. the line of customers is concerningly big for such a time of day, you shiver to imagine what it’s like during lunch time.

the large, open window of the restaurant shows an older man attending to the customers with utmost friendliness and behind him, a younger blue-haired girl hurries from side to side as she rushes to ready the dishes. you see her look down and speak as if talking to someone incredibly short, so short that they’re entirely covered by the half wall of the window.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused by the sight- that is until the girl turns to you and panic invades her expression.

“guoba, wait! watch out for-“

before she finishes her sentence, you feel a faint thump against your leg. you look down to see… what in all honesty just looked like a teddy bear- except it seemed entirely alive and currently knocked over on the ground, paw wiping its little forehead as if it got hurt on the crash with your calf. next to it was also a small bag of mora, spilling over onto the sidewalk.

you hurry to gather up the coins and put them back in the bag before any slimy passerby could snatch them away while the girl steps over to help up the teddy bear.

“agh… i shouldn’t have sent you out to get groceries in such a hurry and you also need to watch where you go better!” she reprimands the creature, patting it down to smooth away any dirt.

“a-and i’m so very sorry! we’re overflowing with customers today and we were running out of oil so i thought i’d have guoba run to mr. dongsheng’s shop but i guess the pressure got him distracted…” she bows apologetically and the bear follows suit.

chuckling sheepishly, you wave the gesture off. “please, there’s no need for all that… it was just an accident after all.” you look down at the bag of mora in your hand.

“say, why don’t i go buy that oil for you? i’m not busy at the moment and you and… guoba clearly need all your attention on the food.”

her eyes light up as if the second coming of rex lapis has just occurred before her. “you’d do that? oh, that would be amazing! thank you so much…” she trails off as if waiting for you to say your name.

“y/n.”

“y/n! thank you so much, y/n. i’m xiangling, by the way!”

the shop just around the corner from the restaurant and you dutifully wait in line to be attended by mr. dongsheng. you’re almost getting lost in thought until you hear an exclamation from nearby.

“x-xingqiu wait up!” what sounded like a young boy huffed out, sprinting from nearby. you turn to see exactly a young light-blue haired boy in white clothes rushing to catch up with another boy with darker blue hair in elegant navy garbs who was already waiting for him at the bridge to the outskirts of town.

“come on, you slowpoke!” the other boy giggles and as his friend is finally beside him, he abruptly grabs his wrist and pulls him along to run once more.

the display is so genuine and lighthearted that it even makes you chuckle fondly, makes you nostalgic for a simpler time.

you buy the oil and swiftly head back to wanmin restaurant, where xiangling is practically weeping with gratitude. “oh thank you, thank you, thank you! you’re a real lifesaver, please let me repay you- a whole evening of dishes on the house with whatever guests you’d like!” she bows once more.

“don’t sweat it… but i’ll hold you to that.” you nod amusedly and make your way out to leave xiangling and guoba to their arduous cooking.

your aimless wandering through the harbor takes you to the eastern side next, to the passageway between the pool of lotuses that leads to bubu pharmacy. you lean against the railing, watching intently as the fish swim aimlessly through the calm waters- then you turn to watch the people crossing the passageway, couples, families, childhood friends all enjoying the comfortable mundaneness of life.

turning even further, you spot a small girl sitting at the top of the staircase that leads to bubu pharmacy, you’ve seen her before behind the counter of the establishment… qiqi, was it? she sits at the edge of the elevated structure, facing the piers of the harbor as she watches with droopy eyes and what seemed to be a glass of milk in her hands.

the sleepiness in her expression reminds you of how late into the night it must be, urging you to head back to your quarters and get whatever sleep you can.

on your way up the stairs of the catwalks, you pass by heyu tea house, where an opera is taking place. the singer is a young girl, adorning traditional liyuean opera garbs that flow gracefully with the elegant twists and turns of the dance she performs. not to mention her unparalleled singing accompanied by the smooth sounds of a liyuean instrument, a guqin as you recall it- her voice so mesmerizing it nearly pulls all of the attention away from the heart wrenching tale it tells.

you’d heard stories about liyuean opera and how entirely different it was from the snezhnayan iterations, but none of the descriptions truly made justice to the fantastical spectacle you stumbled upon by luck. once again, you almost forget you were supposed to head to your dorm and rest.

unfortunately, rest is not for you.

you lay in your bed, eyes wide awake and fixated at the decorated ceiling as you recall all that you saw this evening. the liveliness of the common folk, xiangling and guoba, the two boys, the young girl from the pharmacy delighting in something as simple as a glass of milk, the opera performance. it’s all so human, so natural, simple, meaningful and so entirely precious. you’d made an enjoyable evening stroll just out of watching people… be people.

and you were going to drown it all in just a few days.

well, not as much you as childe was going to. but you didn’t do anything to counter it, not a peep of disagreement, not an act of defiance, not even an idea of an alternate solution. all because of some goddamn chess piece for the tsaritsa’s stupid plan. a pang of forced guilt hits your heart- you’d be surely decapitated in the town square for saying such things about her grace, or thinking rather. but that’s not how you feel, you’d care less about not criticizing an archon if they were truly being stupid.

but that’s how childe feels.

he reveres the tsaritsa blindly more than anyone you know. you needed to speak to him, first thing tomorrow.

surely he wouldn’t mind pulling out of his ingenious, but foolishly dangerous, plan just for you?

—

they say early bird gets the worm yet here you remain, up at the ass crack of dawn with no worm to speak of. if you were slightly less exhausted at the moment, you would’ve caught onto ekaterina’s look of sheer pity towards you.

“good morning, sergeant! how may i help you?” she greets politely.

“mmh.. yes, morning…” you mumble back, pinching the bridge of your nose. “would you know where childe is right now?”

“i believe childe is currently exercising outside of the harbor. would you like to leave a message for him?”

“no no- no need, i’ll just go to him myself. where exactly outside of town is he?”

“childe usually likes to train up in the mountains behind yujing terrace, he took a few officers to train alongside him so it won’t be difficult to spot the group.” you nod and mutter a curt ‘thank you’ to her. your feet feel like they’ve got pure geo constructs tied to them but you manage to make it to the door of northland bank- though before you get to make your way out, you hear ekaterina call out to you.

“i would advise you to bring a weapon, sergeant! knowing how stubborn childe is.”

chuckling at the indirect jab toward childe that she delivers, you only materialize your polearm with the power of your vision, the only instance you’ll ever use it.

“don’t i know it.”

sometimes you wonder if childe is even human- the mere climb to the mountains behind yujing terrace was enough exercise to last you a week or so. once you settled upon the mountain top, heaving as if death were at your doorstep, you take in your surroundings to spot a small group of men in the distance, gathered in a circle that and facing away from you. a few more minutes of walking reveal that they are in fact clad in fatui uniform and the sound of grunts, thuds and the ever despair-inducing sound of the eleventh harbinger’s maniacal laughter.

you join the circle silently, eyes sharp and cold, to watch as childe effortlessly topples over a low-rank officer. a little more observation would show that this poor man wasn’t the first one to receive such treatment, as all the other men look over with sheer horror in their eyes and dirt clinging to their uniforms- all while childe’s clothes remain spotless and neat. said terrified men notice your sudden presence and scurry to salute you properly with trembling arms while you merely gesture for them to be at ease.

“so! who would like to go next?” the harbinger calls out obliviously only to be met with shameful silence. he scans the whole circle like a bloodthirsty predator, though once he finally turns around to see you there, his eyes seem to gain a different light. if they can even attain any.

“y/n! to what do we owe the pleasure to have you here?” he laughs, raising a hand to gesture to you while facing the other officers. “gentlemen, sergeant y/n of the medical division.”

the officers almost immediately salute you once more and you sigh. “please, at ease.”

“truly impeccable timing, doc! i’ve just sparred one-on-one with each one of these officers to teach them a thing or two about combat. though… i might’ve gone a little too hard, plus they might learn better through observing rather than getting shoved around one by one. so why don’t the two of us spar?”

you put up a hand to stop him. “yeah yeah, unfortunately i’m not here to rumble. i’ve got something i’d like to discuss with y-“

“aw, come on! this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for these gentlemen!” childe whines.

“i really would rather not, it’s a bit of an important matter that i want to sort out-“

“it’ll be quick! just one round.”

“i didn’t sleep well last night plus-“

“then a spar is just the way to get the blood pumping!”

“can we please just talk for a few minutes and then you can go back to-“

slash.

where you expected to receive another interruption from childe was instead the sharp tip of a hydro blade right beside your head, narrowingly missing you by a hair. the officers gasp dramatically, while you practically stab childe with the incredulous glare you throw him. even worse, the asshole only smirks playfully as if it was just a playground game.

being on the other side of his blade is famously not unfamiliar to you.

you summon your polearm without thinking and swing it angrily from right to left, hoping only to get the hydro sword away from you. childe does exactly as you predict and steps back expertly to dodge your spear, bearing the widest grin. what ensues next is a tiring back and forth between the two of you- childe hits, you hit back to defend yourself, childe hits back harder. the men watch intently as if watching the most intense play of their lives. it’s probably after a good eight minutes of fighting that your arms start growing weary from how tightly you’re holding onto your weapon and your legs get even sorer than they were from how much you climbed. this is getting stupid.

you put all your focus into finding an opening in childe’s strikes to overtake him, finding it within his next attack, where he switches his grip on the twin blades so the sharp sides face outward and he brings his arms together to create momentum for a double-sided swing that covers the entire of his front. in the millisecond that his hands are next to each other, you send a wave of frigid air that freezes the entirety of his swords and bites at his fingers in a way that makes him hiss and drop the weapons on instinct.

as the icy blades collide with the ground, they shatter into a million glittering shards. childe looks down, half-shocked half-amused at the display and laughs once more. he continues to stare at the ground, any trace of his swords is entirely gone- though it’s no matter, as hydro is already swirling down his wrists as he prepares a new set.

“hah… the fun finally begi-“

before he can finish his taunt, you’re tackling him onto the ground, taking advantage of his distraction. you kneel with one knee up, the other is latched firmly beside childe’s torso, and press your polearm firmly across his arms as to restrain him. the fatui officers are practically losing their minds at this point.

“enough.” you huff out with a snarl, chest heaving up and down violently.

childe is finally, truly at a loss for words. he looks up at you as if you’re the most divine being he’s ever seen and the halo of sunlight that forms around you really doesn’t help. though, you only interpret it as him simply being so surprised that someone finally beat him. after a few seconds of remaining in the position, you take it childe has surrendered and stand up and away from him.

you dust off your clothes and utter without looking up. “leave. all of you.” the men sprint out of the scene like startled rabbits.

“now can we talk?”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 6 months ago

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The Gift That Keeps On Giving: Incorrect Quotes (please just ignore how none of them are holiday-themed...)

Remember this post? Well, unfortunately, it was pretty damn prophetic. The gift-story I've been working on will take more time than I expected. (On the bright side, maybe I can make a weird little New Year's Eve thing out of it.)

But I still refuse to not post something special for my friends on here for Christmas!

And if it can't be a full-on story, then I'll go for the next best thing: MIXING FANMADE CHARACTERS INTO MEMES.

(Disclaimer: two of the characters involved here do not belong to me. Casey Clowes was created by my amazing friend, @insane4fandoms. Sam Ryder, meanwhile, is the OC of another one of my wonderful moots, @sammys-magical-au! And as for the character who do belong to me...well, if you'd like to learn more about them, they'll each be linked as they're introduced.)

___

[Since they're sort of on the same page, Casey is trying to interview Sam. He's currently trying to discuss The Pentas Family with them.]

Casey: How did you even get into an alliance with them to begin with? How can you handle all the horrific stuff they do?!

Sam: *looking past Casey, watching through the window as Murdock, The Newcomer, Caliban, Azalea, and a few other Pentas members are chasing a few targets/rivals down in the streets*

Sam: ...Sometimes, I'm not really sure, either.

___

The Newcomer: *talking about the rest of The Pentas Family* “i CoUlD fIx tHeM." The Newcomer: Yeah? Well, I could accept these guys as they are. You don’t like murder? Grow up. The atrocities are part of my family, and I’ve decided they’re funny.

___

Casey: Oh, fiddlesticks! This really ruffles my feathers!

Murdock: *looking genuinely disturbed/concerned* PLEASE just say "fuck."

___

Garret: *kicks in the door to a target’s hideout* Your free trial of life has ended.

___

Caliban: Reverse tooth fairy where you leave money under your pillow and the tooth fairy comes and leaves you a bunch of teeth.

Casey: . . .Why?!

Caliban: *shaking a bag of teeth* Just because.

___

K.O.: If I got my foot cut off, then picked it up and swung it at you, would that be me hitting you or me kicking you?

Casey: Well, you'd really just mentally scar me more than anything!

___

Parker: Look, in my defense, I had some really good music on, and it made me want to do something kinda evil.

Casey: . . .

___

Azalea: Hey, there’s our old friend!

Casey: ...You and your buddies literally tried to kill me at some point.

Azalea: That was obviously just our way of getting to know you.

___

Val: People like to say “you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,” but I happen to believe you can be both

Casey: That is NOT how it works.

Sam: *shrugging* I mean...technically, sometimes it can be...

___

Two-Toes Johnny: I’ve had a lotta people ask me, “Hey, Johnny, are you a glass-half-full or a glass-half-empty kinda guy?” Two-Toes Johnny: And after some time to think, I can now confidently answer that question. Two-Toes Johnny: *pours some water into a glass. . .and then smashes that glass on the floor*

___

Phoenix: I can’t do this, it’s against my moral compass.

Casey: Your moral compass is a roulette wheel.

Phoenix: What's your point?

___

Miles: Nice opinion! One small issue, though. . . Miles: . . .I’ve planted a landmine in an undisclosed location inside your house. Every step you take is now a risky move.

___

Casey: I think my guardian angel drinks.

Sam: Join the club, dude.

___

Howie: *pulls up one of his cars with a few other Pentas members riding in the backseat; rolls down the window and honks the horn at The Newcomer* Get in, loser! We’re committing homicide!

___

Casey: My bounty is missing, and there's literally blood on your hands! What did you do?!

Garret: Alright, fine. I may have aggressively hugged him...specifically with my scarf...around his neck.

Casey: So you strangled him to death?!

Garret: No, no. I aggressively hugged his neck with my scarf.

___

Casey: WHAT ARE ALL THESE DEAD BODIES DOING HERE?!

Jay: *nudges one with his shoe* Honestly, not much.

___

[Sometime after Casey managed to steal a bounty from Murdock]

[Extra Context: Murdock is 5'10. Casey is 6'3]

Murdock: Listen, I get that we don’t see eye-to-eye on some things, but—

Casey: That’s because you’re short.

Murdock: . . .WHAT did you just say to me?

Casey: Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not hear me down there? Should I sPEAK UP?

Murdock: What are you doing?!

Casey: I didn’t say anything. What’s up? Ah, sorry, DOWN. ‘Cause that’s where you are.

Murdock: ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOUR—

Casey: “Kneecaps broken?” You gonna kick my shins or somethin’? ‘Cause that’s all you can reach, right?

Murdock: What is wrong with you today?!

Casey: Oh, do we have a short fuse today? DO WE. . ?

Murdock: Why are you being so insulting?! I—you—we were just having an argument—

Casey: Sorry, speak up. I can’t hear you all the way down there.

Murdock: . . .

Casey: Speak a little louder for me. Y’know, ‘cause you’re short.

Murdock: THAT’S IT, I’M GONNA—

Casey: Whoa, calm down there, you little IMP. ‘Cause, y’know, the shorter they are, the closer to hell—

Murdock: I GET THE JOKE, AND NOW I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS, I SWEAR TO GOD!

___

[Sometime after Casey calls a truce with The Pentas Family. Recently, he's been struggling with a strange case, so he's reluctantly sought out some help/advice from Caliban. The two of them have been sneaking around the city late into the night; they're just now approaching the building where Casey keeps his office]

Casey: *turning the corner and looking up* ...SCOUT!

Caliban: *following Casey's gaze, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open* ...SNARE!

[Scout and Snare are currently sitting on the roof of the building, just above the back entrance]

Casey: WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!

[Neither Scout nor Snare answer, since they're respectively a beagle and a hare]

Caliban: HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE?!

___

Two-Toes Johnny: *pouring himself a glass of wine* GOOD MORNIN'! Don’t forget to drink your water and mIND YOUR FUCKIN’ BUSINESS! Two-Toes Johnny: . . .This is wine, but you KNOW WHAT I MEAN! Two-Toes Johnny: If the things in your life are not bringin' you inspiration, income, or orgasms, they don’t belong in your life! So stop lettin' them linger around! Two-Toes Johnny: Ignore the judgmental people who always got somethin’ to say! They look like wildebeests, and you’d rather be the bitch that’s being talked about than the miserable bitch who’s talkin’! Two-Toes Johnny: So, thank you for comin' to my Sunday service. We fuck ‘em up, we fuck ‘em down, we fuck their friends when they’re outta town. Two-Toes Johnny: *takes a sip of his wine* . . .AMEN!!!

___

K.O.: YOU’RE TOO LATE, CLOWES! I AM NOW FORKLIFT CERTIFIED!

K.O.:*drives around, laughing maniacally. . .at least until he crashes the forklift into something, causing now broken shelves to start falling. . .*

K.O.: *stops laughing* o-OH MY G O D—OH MY GOD—WHAT THE FUCK IS—AAAAAAAAAAHH—!

___

Azalea: Okay, what does A stand for? Phoenix: Arson. Azalea: Aww, you're so good. Okay! B! What does B stand for? Phoenix: . . .Barson. Caliban: *laughs* Azalea: What stands for C? Phoenix: Commit arson. Azalea: D! Phoenix: Don't come near me, I'm going to commit arson. Caliban: *now on the floor, laughing even harder*

___

Parker: We are one hundred meters from your location and approaching rapidly. Parker: S t a r t r u n n i n g .

___

Casey: Sometimes I wonder why humans have different blood groups.

Caliban: So I can enjoy different flavors.

___

“What are you, exactly?”

Val: A mobster.

“No, what’s your gender?”

Val: I’m a contract killer.

“No! Like, what’s under your dress?!”

Val: *pulls out a minigun from their thigh-holster under their dress* A GUN.

___

[Casey has gotten caught up in one of Miles' booby traps. Surprisingly enough, it's not a harmful one, but it's still pretty damn aggravating since it ruined one of Casey's stake-outs. Sam has found Casey and is now helping him out]

Sam: Is there something you'd like to say, Mr. Clowes? Casey: *one eye twitching* Oh, there are SEVERAL things I'd like to say...

___

@the-matpat-ever @b-is-in-the-closet @lampsforsocks @bloodyhound12345 @yourannoyinglittlesistersteph @flaming-dolph16

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skayafair · 1 year ago

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Part 41

I finally got to listen to it!

Arthur has a lot of spite left in him sounding so pissed off screaming out Kayne's name, huh

And yet, knowing how he's not shy of swearing, all he can call John is a helpless "villain". Aw.

Oh, YOU GO JOHN! I support all your rights but more importantly your wrongs. I have no idea why John acting on his worst gives me such a kick every time but I properly enjoy and wholeheartedly support it ^_^

Also I liked the echo on "I'm trapped!". Reminded me of previous intances of him eldritching out. Morrrre~

Oh, I like the turn it's taking. John's lack of freedom, of agency is getting broadened in its scale, John doesn't compare it to a human's (who he wanted to be) one - but to a god's (who he was). Seems like the DW rattled quite a few memories and John had to stop running away from his past (I mean considering the supposed atrocities he had to commit there he was basically forced into his old self so it was kind of inevitable). Who you were isn't who you are and doesn't have to be your future self either but it's still in there, it still matters and has its fair share of influence. He had to face this and I'm glad that he seemed to do it.

I don't want to imagine what it should feel like to be in John's metaphorical shoes though. He used to be a god - and then lost all the agency completely and kept failing to regain it, time after time. First he ended up in the DW despite his intentions with no chance to escape on his own accord, then was yeeted into Arthur and failed to take all control, then he had a chance during the ritual but that chance flew out the window, too. In the end of that path he had to lose even the little amount of freedom he had, giving himself back to the King. Frankly I think returning to the King could actually be a chance to take over - John managed to rival him in his will, after all, so who knows - maybe he could win, too. However, Kayne yanked him out and back into the DW, making him basically a slave yet again. Returning to Arthur should have felt heaveny at the very beginning, there even were moments of his own actions and achievements, like with cutting the tendrils. And yet this is still far from being free, being his own, even with the deal out of the picture. It should feel like a torture to have a living, independent mind and be unable to act on its will. No wonder he's a bit drunk on the opportunity to finally have some range of options.

Also now his attempt to kill Oscar that seemed very contradicting to his latter values and behaviour looks actually natural. Just out of the DW, with a reviewed perspective and confused about in what direction to head next, old instincts refreshed and most likely habitual again (if it was even possible - I mean what form did he have in the DW to even be able to do anything?) - no wonder in the moment of intense emotional turmoil he fell back to those old ways without much thinking. Still very bad but at least explainable now. Also it looks like John isn't sure he wants to be human now. Hmmm, I like this direction, too. The experience will stay anyway, he'll have the understanding, and that's important.

"I don’t know. But stop turning that frustration towards me." Wow, Arthur, A+ for the ability to articulate what exactly you want and are discontent with! Communication, yaaay!

I like how they arrived from defensive opposing positions to shedding the defences off and coming to an understanding, still managing to vent the emotions off in the process. Hey I want this level of the skill!

"Why wait? - Nothing. I thought I… it’s nothing. - You’re sure? - Yes." Uuuuugrh. High time to learn that's a bad way of addressing the suspicions, boys *sigh*

"How did it… feel? - It felt… powerful. - Hm." This whole conversaton of theirs, especially coupled with the overall situation, really reminds me of the very beginning of season two. Fresh of the portal in an unknown surroundings, under the rain, talking about John's bad choices and things Arthur postpones to talk about ("The deal with Kayne… - In a moment."), only the last time John didn't let him. I guess now he feels too rattled himself.

The owl. Ow. I'll get to my eldritch owls AU, I promise! (Also, Alexander?! In what way is it comfortable?.. It means "the defender", so well maybe, but still - ehhh?..)

"This world could be very different than what we expect." - ooohhh, will they meet dragons?! *__* Hardy, I know, but the possibility is still thrilling.

*John describes the surroundings* I've been to just one DnD session but the shift in the perspective cannot be undone. Is that how you guys have been seeing the whole setting all along???

"Look, we can’t afford to be at odds here, John. Not anymore." Oh. I like the place they are at dynamic-wise. By now they've long established they want to be friends - trying to be as best as they can. No one has an upper hand, unlike in previous seasons. Season 1 os obvious, season 2 - John still knew more about the world they found themselves in than Arthur and hid some things, the relationship was still very rocky. In s3 Arthur had an upper hand at the very least emotionally-wise. Season 4 - John's turn again. Now thought they've come to some pretty good communication and know each other well enough, there's trust (despite everyting), and both are about equally in the dark. There's the "John's crimes in the DW" bit still looming over them but both are aware of it, which helps to some degree.

Meaning - more or less (John still has little agency, although it's a bit better now) equal partnership. YAY. I'm excited.

"It is time to grow up, in every sense of the word." Ahhh. There it is. I have to say it's been bugging me the whole time but I couldn't enunciate what exactly and with what grounds. The thing is, I distaste the way a person lacking in one field is being constantly compared to a child overall. This infantilization happens not only in Malevolent. It's often brought into other stories - the most recent one I came across was Resident Alien TV series. Often enough the said field is the emotional and the social one. You know who else is often infantillized the same way with similar issues? Neurodivergent people - I think autistic ones more frequently but I didn't look into the statistics (if they exist), that's just what I've heard of the most. I know I've been referred to in a patronizing way both by some friends and relatives just because I don't get things obvious to them but unseen to me (and half of those things makes no fucking sense even when you learn about them). John is far from being a child, his lack of knowledge and understanding, of experience lays in very concrete fields.

So the constant comparison to a "parent-child" dynamic is irritating to me when it's simply a "more experienced in one or two ways person & a less experienced in said ways person". Yes those fields are very important. Still, there are things John knows of and Arthur doesn't, but I don't recall anyone comparing our dear detective to a child back in Dreamlands, for instance. John knew how dangerous it was out there and was more coutious, had some memories and knowledge about some things existing there and got frustrated with Arthur's attempts to befriend everything around more than once. From this point of view, Arthur behaved "childishly" and lacked crucial experience John sort of had (even though it was mostly forgotten), while social skills and emotional intelligence meant next to nothing (save for once instance).

So can we please cut this tendency of sustainably comparing adults to children because they aren't as well-versed in one or two fields as others.

"There was so much I couldn’t explain, because you weren’t able to know where I had come from. But now… with you knowing, perhaps…" Oh shit THEY CAN FINALLY TALK EVERYTHING OUT clearly yaaaaay! I forgot! Looking forward to this.

Also John's very quiet for the most of the episode, as if he's afraid to say another word, like moving across a mine field. Very uncertain in any way, like he doesn't trust himself.

Aaaaand Arthur confirms his title of a disney princess trying to befriend every creature he meets once again! Thanks for addressing this in canon! =D

I like how the podcast is consistent with the fact that John has sense of smell but it's not as developed as Arthur's.

Damn it's so wierd to hear John at loss of words, and so often, too.

"You really started to master your investigative ways, you know?" I like how John sounds so lost for the majotiry of the episode, but once there's an opportunity to fall into a familiar process of the investigation, his tone immediately changes to a lighter, more confident one. There's comfort in it. And Arthur noticed this and paused to give a friendly praise. It's important after all the forgetfulness in New York, and judging by John's reaction he appreciated this, too. It's something to hold on to, like "I still have it, we've got this, it can still be okay".

Wow Arthur's filling the bingo card starting right from the very 1st episode! Falling yet another ladder are we :D Now there's rather a bad injury, too, and they didn't even meet any monsters yet :DDD Arhtur has certainly stepped up his game!

"No… no, nothing. - Is it the wall?" Arthur is really acing the whole friendship thing the whole episode. He took notice of how unsure John is of everything now and made this extra effort to help, to support.

Yay the glass is back in the game! I llike that they decided to revise the bag contents.

"Kayne’s dagger. - Frustratingly useful." Yay the humor this apisode is certainly humoring! =D

Three black candles, in the 13th century, right. That screams "ritual", guuuuys where is your cautiousness!

I like how this episode took its time and didn't skip over some "mechanics" like the podcast usually does. There are more directions from John (THANKS), more pondering over what to do and which way (the torch, the dagger and tracing the way along the wall), the sense of smell, the way the cloak kept the water from soaking through - these little details are what does the trick to me. What gives more quality to the story and the way it's told.

The membrain, ew. Arthur's been holding exceprionally well, honeslty.

Ah, I finally found the word to how John sounds for the most of the episode. Defeated, even in situations when he would have had other emotions before. "The Undefeated" title considered, this is extra sad.

A recurring thing of the episode is that they find themselves in the darkness and John can't see. I think it adds considerably to his feeling of being powerless. It often sounds like he's giving up.

"No. But we’re close to the surface!" And someone said he's going to be properly done with all the pits like two seasons ago :< (I don't really remember when it was exactly so maybe less but the notion still stands.)

So. The hole in the wall was a mouth with teeth, wasn't it?

#malevolent podcast #malevolent spoilers #malevolent #john malevolent #arthur lester #john doe malevolent

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