#cuff compass

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Can one of my Forspoken peeps with access to Visoria test something for me? There's a certain radius around the north half of the Northern Corridor where Cuff compass doesn't recognize any destination markers set if the compass would have to pass through that area. This applies to map icons like caves (I don't have treasure chests to test on), and just random "go here" markers.

On this half of the canyon, it's fine:

But on this half, I get told no:

Usually I only get that error if I forgot to set a destination, but you can see in the screenshot, I have one. It's less than a thousand feet away. This happens all throughout that side of the corridor. If I'm inside, I can't target anything, even if I'm targeting something outside. If I'm outside, I can't target anything inside. I can set it on the map but Cuff won't show me the way, even if I'm right on top of it :(

Does this happen to anyone else? Any idea what's up with that?

I mean at least I got pretty pictures out of it, but still. It's weird.

[angeltannis]

Falling into the same issue with BG3 that I sadly have with most open world games which is that I spend so much time fucking lost that I eventually lose interest

[aeide-thea]

disjointed thoughts abt like. various anti-'normalization' takes i've seen and how actually i think like. expanding the range of things people are aware of & comfortable with is in fact often a helpful step towards becoming less dependent on the concept of normality to determine acceptability, because once you understand that normal isn't in fact a narrowly fixed range but is subjective and can be widened, it becomes a much softer yardstick & less of a bludgeon

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

[yuff7e]

Yay! Okay so I'm gonna try this.

Could I please request Tanjiro, Inosuke, Giyu, and Sanemi with a demon male reader with:

...Damaged horns?

Bit of a backstory:

He's a kind demon with healing blood that can cure any illness and help to heal any injury. This also got him to be caught and held captive by humans and "work" in one of the local hospitals. And also because he was a demon and people hate demons.

People treated him badly, putting cuffs and chains on his feet, hands, and mainly on his horns, damaging them in the process. After some time people realized he's not bad and both sides made an arrangement...reader will have a source of food and shelter while continuing to help humans.

His horns used to be long, shiny, and just pride itself but now they look even worse than a rock by a sidewalk. Not only does it affect his self-esteem but it also causes him bad headaches.

The request:

Reader is healing slayers's small injuries until a headache strikes and our demon slayers comfort him (they know about his past and self-esteem) and show a gentle love to his horns as well. Maybe how would they show their love and care to reader and his horns differently.

Also the demon change made reader as closely tall as Gyomei, no matter the gender (if you decide to make this genderneutral).

Thank you so much for the opportunity. 🩷🩷

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒: 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒

𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

— heyy charliedakotariley!! sorry this took forever, i’ve been a bit inactive these past few days but im slowly coming back!! i hope this was what you wanted, enjoy :)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝

tanjiro -> inosuke -> giyuu -> sanemi

♬♪ -> lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı

tanjiro kamado

you’re kneeling beside a wounded villager, your healing blood working its magic to close the injury. as the skin begins to knit together, you suddenly feel a sharp headache, causing your large frame to tremble.

“are you alright, [name]?” tanjiro’s voice is soft and filled with concern as he notices your distress.

“just a headache,” you manage to say, trying to brush it off, but tanjiro isn’t convinced. he’s aware of your past, the harsh treatment you endured, and how it has left its mark on you, especially your horns. without hesitation, he places a gentle hand on your shoulder and helps you to sit down.

“let me see,” he says softly. he carefully touches your horns, feeling the rough, jagged edges where they have been damaged. his touch is tender, almost reverent, as he explores the scars.

“it’s okay,” tanjiro whispers, his voice soothing. “you don’t have to be strong all the time. you’re allowed to hurt.”

his fingers trace the grooves and ridges of your horns with a delicate touch, not shying away from the damaged parts. instead, he focuses on them, showing you that he loves every part of you, including your scars and imperfections. you can’t help but feel a deep sense of comfort from his care.

you close your eyes, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. the warmth of his hands begins to ease the tension in your head, filling you with a sense of peace that you haven’t experienced in a long time. tanjiro’s presence is calming, and his compassion is healing in itself.

“thank you,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion, feeling tears of gratitude well up.

“you’re not alone,” tanjiro replies with a reassuring smile. “i’m here for you, always. no matter what.”

inosuke hashibira

inosuke barges into the room, his usual boisterous demeanor suddenly faltering when he sees you clutching your head in pain. the injured demon slayer, whom you’ve been healing, looks on with concern.

“hey, what’s wrong with you?” inosuke demands, though the worry in his voice betrays his tough exterior.

“it’s just...a headache,” you manage to say, your voice strained from the pain. inosuke’s frown deepens, and without saying another word, he stomps over and sits beside you.

“let me see,” inosuke says gruffly, his voice softer now. he reaches out to touch your horns, his touch surprisingly gentle as he traces the jagged edges. he’s heard about the mistreatment you suffered, and he knows how much it still affects you.

“they hurt, don’t they?” inosuke asks, his voice uncharacteristically calm.

you nod, unable to speak through the pain. inosuke’s rough fingers continue their gentle exploration, not flinching away from the scars. he looks at you with an intensity that softens as he continues.

“you’re strong,” inosuke says after a moment, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “stronger than anyone i know.”

the unexpected praise catches you off guard. you look up to see inosuke staring at you with fierce determination, and his sincerity is almost overwhelming.

“don’t let anyone make you feel less,” inosuke continues. “your horns, your scars, they’re part of you. and i like you the way you are. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

the sincerity in inosuke’s words brings tears to your eyes. you lean into his touch, letting the pain ebb away, feeling a new sense of acceptance and warmth from his words.

“thank you, inosuke,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t forget it,” inosuke grunts, though there’s a softness in his tone.

giyuu tomioka

giyuu watches as you finish healing his wound, the cut on his arm closing seamlessly. he notices the moment you wince, your large frame jolting slightly from the pain of your headache.

“is something wrong?” giyuu asks, his voice calm and even, his eyes never leaving you.

“it’s nothing, just a headache,” you reply, though giyuu can see through your attempt to downplay it. he’s aware of your past, the mistreatment you’ve faced, and how it has left lingering effects, including the headaches. without a word, he moves closer and helps you sit down.

“let me help,” giyuu says softly. he reaches out to touch your horns, his fingers tracing the jagged edges with a tenderness that belies his usually stoic exterior. his touch is light, almost reverent, as he feels the damage.

you tense at first, but giyuu’s gentle touch quickly soothes you. the pain in your head starts to fade, replaced by a soothing warmth. giyuu’s presence is calming, and his compassion is deeply comforting.

“your horns are beautiful,” giyuu says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with genuine affection. “they show your strength, your resilience. don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. they’re a part of you, and that’s something to be proud of.”

the sincerity in giyuu’s voice brings tears to your eyes. you’ve never heard such words spoken about your horns, never felt such gentle acceptance and care. it’s a balm to your wounded spirit.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

giyuu simply nods, his fingers still tracing the contours of your horns. “you’re not alone. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

sanemi shinazugawa

sanemi watches as you heal the wound on his leg, the torn flesh knitting back together under your touch. he notices the moment you wince, flinching from the headache.

“what’s wrong?” sanemi asks, his voice rough but laced with concern.

“it’s just a headache,” you reply, trying to brush it off. but sanemi isn’t convinced. he knows about your past, the mistreatment you endured, and how it has left you with lingering effects, including these painful headaches. without a word, he moves closer and helps you sit down.

“let me see,” sanemi says gruffly. he reaches out to touch your horns, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he traces the jagged edges. he feels the rough, scarred surface with a careful touch, his usual harshness softened by an unspoken empathy.

“they did this to you,” sanemi says quietly, his voice filled with a mix of anger and sorrow.

you nod, unable to speak through the pain. sanemi’s touch is surprisingly tender, his rough hands moving with care and precision. his gaze is intense, but there’s a gentleness in his actions that contrasts with his usual demeanor.

“your horns are a part of you,” sanemi says after a moment, his voice softening. “they’re a sign of your strength, your resilience. don’t let anyone make you feel less. they’ve tried to hurt you, but you’ve survived. that’s something to be proud of.”

the sincerity in sanemi’s words brings tears to your eyes. you lean into his touch, letting the pain fade away, feeling a newfound sense of acceptance and understanding.

“thank you.” you whisper, your headache fading almost instantly.

sanemi simply nods, his fingers still tracing the contours of your horns. “you’re not alone. i’m here for you.”

[hoe4hotchner]

I didn’t know I needed inked!Hotch until now!

Would you ever do a part 2 where he comes home with a tattoo designed specially for reader added to his sleeve? Or maybe somewhere more personal on him?

New addition | [A.H]

Pairing: inked!Hotch x gn!Reader

CW: tattoos, fluff

WC: 0.6k

Summary: Hotch gets a new tattoo

           The soft hum of music filled the living room as you curled up on the couch, a warm cup of tea cradled in your hands. The sun had just begun to set, casting a golden glow through the windows. It was a peaceful evening - you cherished the time alone, sometimes needing to sit in silence without a word spoken - until you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling at the door.

           Aaron stepped inside, his suit jacket slung over one arm and a curious smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he greeted, his eyes lighting up as they met yours.

           "Hey yourself," you replied, setting your mug on the table. "You're home early. Everything okay?"

           "Everything's perfect," he assured, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. But there was something different about him - a hint of excitement he was trying to contain.

           You raised a brow, noticing that his sleeves were rolled down and buttoned at the cuffs, which was unusual for him at home. "Long day?" you asked, gesturing to his unrolled sleeves.

           He glanced at his wrists and chuckled softly. "Actually, I have something to show you."

           Curiosity piqued, you sat up straighter. "Oh? What is it?"

           Aaron set his jacket aside and took a seat next to you. Slowly, he began unbuttoning the cuff of his left sleeve, carefully rolling it up to reveal the familiar swirl of intricate tattoos that adorned his forearm. Your eyes widened as you noticed a fresh addition covered in plastic - a new design nestled seamlessly among the existing ink.

           Your breath caught as you took in the delicate details. It was a beautiful rendering of a compass with a rose intertwined with your initials. The compass points were intricately shaded, and tiny, meaningful symbols were etched into each direction.

           "Aaron…" you whispered, your fingers gently tracing the new tattoo. "You got this… for me?"

           He nodded, his gaze soft and filled with affection. "I wanted to carry a part of you with me wherever I go," he said quietly. "You navigate me through the chaos."

           Emotion welled up inside you, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "It's incredible. I don't know what to say."

           He smiled gently. "You don't have to say anything. Just know how much you mean to me."

           You looked up into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected there. "When did you do this?"

           "During lunch today," he admitted with a small chuckle. "I've been working with the artist for weeks to get it just right."

           A playful smirk crossed your face. "So that's why you've been sneaking out and being all mysterious lately."

           He laughed, the sound sending a pleasant thrill through you. "Guilty as charged."

           You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. "Thank you," you murmured. "It's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me."

           He rested his forehead against yours. "You inspire me," he whispered. "It felt right to make it a part of me - just like you've become."

           You sat together in comfortable silence, your hand resting over the new ink. After a moment, a mischievous glint sparkled in your eyes. "You know, this means I get artistic input on any future tattoos."

           He raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, does it now?"

           "Absolutely," you teased. "I might just have a few ideas."

           He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. "I'm open to suggestions - as long as I get to choose the placement."

           "Deal," you agreed, snuggling closer to him.

           "Maybe next time, we can get matching ones," you suggested softly.

           He looked down at you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the room. "I'd like that," he replied. "Very much."

           You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It's a date, then."

           "Definitely a date," he agreed, holding you a little tighter.

[rovobeam]

Oh no I made a bmwk oc with chat gpt lol

Disclaimer cause I got my ass beat lol, I didn't copy paste it, I grabbed Lian's og lore and twisted it so it'd fit, now put that knife away from my throat

- Lian (yeah, just Lian)

- He/They

- like 100+ yo

- reincarnation of Jiutian Xuannü (九天玄女), a lesser-known Chinese deity often associated with magic, warfare, cunning and sex

- Born as a demi-god , Lian has fragments of memories from their divine past as Jiutian Xuannü, particularly their ability to deceive and manipulate situations. He often traveled between mortal and celestial realm, having his best life annoying the sh out of everyone, until The Jade Emperor himself got fed up and banned him from the celestial realm until further notice, along with carrying bracelet-like cuffs (like on the ref)

- these cuffs are made like the fraction of powers he got from that reincarnation is tamed down, resulting in him barely being a threat

-Bro is witty, sarcastic, and loves to challenge authority. They see the world as a game of strategy, often manipulating events to their favor while remaining outwardly innocent. But beneath the playful surface is a keen intellect and a deep understanding of the mystical forces at work.

- While they enjoy chaos and play pranks, Lian has a moral compass. He tends to trick those who are greedy, arrogant, or cruel, often aligning themselves with Sun Wukong's rebellious nature. They respect the Monkey King's power but would challenge him in subtle, playful ways—earning a form of respect from Wukong.

Honestly ty chat gpt for helping

[rrat-king]

some Bad Girls accesory headcannons:

adaine

doesn't need glasses but wears blue light ones because the light gives her migraines. the glasses are round silver wire frames that she has broken and cast mending on too many times

she loses her glasses constantly so gorgug made her a glasses chain so they can just hang when she's not wearing them. it has little star charms and blue and silver beads

it's my hc that adaine didn't actually give kristen her pinky back, keeping the philange instead so she has the bone on a little necklace she wears. its morbid but sweet.

she has a leather book holster that ayda made her after she complimented her's so that they are matching. keeps her spellbook in it

has three bracelets from kristen: a red rubber 'vote for applebees' bracelet as well as two woven friendship bracelets, a purple and blue chevron as well as a orange white and blue striped

elf ears are... so stupidly sensitive so she has a hard time wearing earings but she does steal fig's ear cuffs a lot

kristen

wears dog tags with jawbone's number as her emergency contact in case anything happens. he doesn't legally have custody but its a safe way of making sure he gets called over her parents

got her septum peirced with fig in leviathan, was originally a silver barbell but had to take it out when she realized the silver meant that tracker wouldn't kiss her, so wears a little golden hoop instead

has six trillion bracelets. most of them are friendship bracelets she's made herself, but she also has a rubber sig figs bracelet, a pony bead bracelet that says 'little shrimp' as well as a 'WWCD?' she made with her campaign rubbers

bad at wearing rings but has a number of them that she keeps on a carabiner that tracker got her (most of them found in the river while throwing rocks with riz. don't ask her why there are so many lost rings in the river she doesn't question it)

she got rid of her cross necklace after meeting helio but still has the saint necklace she got at first cornmunion. it's saint iree, patron saint of the lost harvest

fig

has one of gorthalaxes guitar picks as a necklace along with a million others

wears rings around her horns, most of which she makes herself but fabian gifted her a few of his that he doesn't wear cuz 'they interfere with my fighting, thank you' that are nice elven gold

has a matching septum with kristen as well as a million other peircings

she. loves. mixing. metals. she wears a million pieces of jewelry and they are all mishmashed but because none of it matches it works

constantly stealing her mom's earings. it drives sandra lynn crazy

hardcore believer in scrunchys over hairties. always has one either in her hair on on her wrist even they somewhat clash with her aesthetic.

wears compression gloves under her fingerless gloves to help with her joints swelling

has a million pins including: some of her mom's old band pins that she let her have, band pins of her own, kristen's campaign buttons as well as kipperlillys but she doodles over those, pins she's made herself out of bottle caps, a little tin skateboard pin gorgug made her, and a red compass pin that ayda gave her that belonged to one of the previous ayda's

(will make one for the boys eventually when i have time to come to terms with riz's new found accessory addiction this season)

[guilty-ff]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.3

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: Wade Wilson was devastated after Y/n's tragic death, blaming himself for not saving her. After passing out from the trauma, he woke in Althea's apartment and learned from Weasel and Dopinder that her body had been sent to the morgue. His grief turned to panic when he received a call- Y/n’s body had mysteriously gone missing.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons, characters death

Word count: 2464

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, and the world around her slowly came into focus, but it was all wrong, terribly wrong. She was lying on a cold, hard surface, her body aching and her mind foggy.

The first thing she noticed was the harsh, sterile smell that filled her nostrils, a nauseating mix of disinfectant and something far more unpleasant, like rotting meat left out in the sun. Her head throbbed, and she winced as she tried to move, only to find herself restrained.

Panic began to set in as she realized she was strapped to a surgeon's table, thick metal cuffs binding her wrists and ankles. The room around her was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a single flickering bulb hanging overhead, casting strange shadows that danced along the walls.

The walls themselves were concrete, cracked and stained, with streaks of what looked like dried blood smeared across them. It was a place devoid of life, warmth, or hope- a place where suffering was the only certainty.

She tried to turn her head, but the movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her, and she groaned softly. The room seemed to spin, the lights and shadows blurring together in a sickening whirlpool.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to remember how she would ended up here.

The last thing she recalled was running...running away from Wade...from the silence that had shattered her heart.  The intensely chest pain. And then...the truck. The impact. And then...nothing.

As her vision cleared, she became aware of a presence in the room with her. From the far corner, just beyond the reach of the flickering light, a figure stepped forward, the sound of heavy boots echoing ominously on the concrete floor.

The figure was a woman, her face partially obscured by dark aura, but Y/n could see the glint of cruel, calculating eyes staring down at her.

"Huh, you're finally up?" the woman said, her voice cold and indifferent, as if Y/n's suffering was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. There was no warmth, no compassion- only a chilling detachment that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine.

The woman did not wait for a response. She turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps receding into the distance. Y/n's heart raced as she strained against her restraints, but they held firm, the metal biting painfully into her skin. She was trapped, helpless, with no idea what was going to happen next.

A few moments later, the woman returned, but she was not alone. She was followed by a man who immediately commanded the room's attention. He wore a pristine doctors's coat, the stark white fabric almost glowing in the dim light.

His face was gaunt, his skin pale and sickly, and a small, rounded scar ran painted his forehead, a jagged reminder of some past violence. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of hatred and sadistic glee as they settled on Y/n.

"Finally," the man said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent chills down her spine. "Getting my hands on the other girlfriend of the infamous Wade Wilson. You know, it wasn't easy tracking you down, living in the shadows, making sure no one noticed. But here we are, and I have a new toy to play with."

Y/n's confusion gave way to a burning anger. "Get me the fuck off this bed," she snarled, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

The man's lips curled into a twisted smile, but there was no warmth in it- only cold, unfeeling malice. "You know," he continued, his tone mocking, "I don't like getting my hands dirty with a woman. But she—" he nodded toward the woman who stood silently by his side,

"-she enjoys it."

Before Y/n could react, the woman stepped forward and delivered a brutal punch to her face. The impact was like a sledgehammer, sending her head snapping to the side, and pain exploded across her cheek, radiating down to her jaw.

She tasted blood, the metallic taste filling her mouth as it dripped from her split lip. She spat it out, the crimson drops splattering on the floor beside the table.

"Ew, disgusting," the man sneered, looking down at his coat with a disdainful expression. "Don't overdo it next time. Her blood almost got on my coat."

Y/n's vision swam, her head pounding from the blow. The room seemed to spin around her, the edges of her sight darkening as she struggled to stay conscious.

The dizziness was overwhelming, but she fought against it, her anger fueling her will to survive. She pulled against the restraints, her muscles straining as she tried to break free, but the cuffs held firm, cutting into her wrists.

The man ignored her struggles, continuing as if nothing had happened. "It wasn't easy monitoring your body and getting you here without raising suspicion. Our members didn't do their job properly when they replaced your body at the morgue. But who the fuck knows, right?"

Y/n's mind was a whirlwind of fear, anger, and confusion. She could barely process what he was saying, her thoughts scattered by the pain and disorientation. But one thing was clear: she was in serious trouble, and these people had no intention of letting her go.

"Fuck off," she spat, her voice hoarse but defiant. "I'm going to fucking rip your eyeballs out of your face and stuff them down your throat."

The man's twisted smile widened, his eyes narrowing with sadistic pleasure. "That'll do," he said calmly, as if her threats were nothing more than idle chatter.

Y/n's confusion deepened, her mind struggling to make sense of his words. But before she could react, pain erupted through her body, a searing, all-consuming agony that made her scream.

It was as if her veins had turned to fire, the pain spreading from her core to every nerve ending in her body. Her muscles seized, her body twitching uncontrollably as electricity surged through her, the current burning her from the inside out.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a relentless, unbearable torment that consumed her completely. She could feel her consciousness slipping, the world around her fading as the pain dragged her down into darkness. But it would not let her go. It held her there, on the edge of oblivion, her mind going insane between the waking world and the merciful release of unconsciousness.

As the electricity coursed through her, Y/n's hearing began to fade, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything else. The man's voice became a distant echo, his words distorted and garbled, lost in the cacophony of sound and pain.

"It just continues to get funnier and more interesting to see your loose face and cursing me out. Haven't seen you do that for a long time. We kept an eye on Wade's close ones for my plan," the man continued, though his words barely registered in Y/n's pain-devastated mind.

"We even got samples of your blood. When analyzing your DNA, we discovered something interesting: We actually discovered that you have mutant genes that were deactivated the whole time by an oppressor. We kept the blood sample in track with our systems and waited for the moment. In order for your mutant genes to be activated, the oppressor needs to detach itself from the gene in order for it to be read and, therefore, activated. Your body, desperate to survive, activated those dormant genes, probably by an inhumane amount of cortisol, trauma and adrenalin. It all triggered something in you, and voilà: you became a living curse. You were lucky that your little outburster activated the genes before you were sandwiched by the truck. Fucking awesome."

As Y/n lay chained to the surgical bed, her mind raced with confusion and fear. He loomed over her, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and malice. He seemed to savor the moment, taking his time before finally breaking the silence.

"You probably think you're some sort of miracle, don't you?" he began, his voice dripping with contempt. "Some kind of invincible freak, just like your boyfriend, Wade Wilson."

Y/n glared at him, anger flickering in her eyes despite the pain. "What the hell are you talking about?" she spat, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.

The unknown man chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You really don't know, do you? Well, allow me to enlighten you."

He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, the stench of disinfectant and blood clinging to him. "You're not special. You're just a parasite. Your so called 'powers'- they're nothing but a sick twist of fate."

Y/n frowned, trying to make sense of his words. "Parasite? What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means," he hissed, his tone laced with venom, "that every time you heal, every time your body repairs itself from the brink of death, someone else takes your place. The pain, the injury, the death- they're all transferred to some poor bastard unlucky enough to be near you."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words crushing her. "No... that can't be true..."

He began to pace around the room, his movements deliberate and menacing. "But you're not like Deadpool. He heals on his own, no strings attached. You, on the other hand... every time you survive, someone else pays the price. That night, when you should have died under that truck, someone else did instead. You killed them, whether you meant to or not."

Y/n shook her head, refusing to believe it. "You're lying. This is just some sick game you're playing."

The man's eyes hardened, his expression turning cold. "I don't play games, sweetheart. I deal in reality. You think that pain you felt earlier was just a heart attack? No, it was your body trying to reconcile what it had done—what you had done. You're a walking time bomb, a freak show that drags others down with you."

He stopped in front of her again, his gaze boring into hers. "And here, in my little slice of hell, I'm going to make sure that your hands get even dirtier. Your boyfriend already destroyed one of my labs, but now I have something even better- leverage. You."

Y/n's stomach turned as the full horror of her situation sank in. Her abilities were not a gift- they were a curse, one that condemned others to suffer in her place.

"You're lying," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anger. "I would never hurt anyone..."

"But you already have," he said, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "And you will again. Because every time I push you to the edge, every time I make you scream in pain, someone else is going to feel it too. You'll kill them, just like you did that night."

Y/n's vision blurred with tears as she struggled against the chains, desperate to escape the nightmare she was trapped in.

"You're sick. You're fucking sick!"

"Maybe," the man shrugged, unbothered by her outburst. "But you? You're something far worse. A monster who doesn't even know it yet. But don't worry," he added with a sadistic grin, "by the time I'm done with you, you'll understand exactly what you are."

He picked up a surgical tool, the cold metal glinting in the dim light as he held it up to her face. "And we're going to have so much fun finding out just how much you can take before you break."

As he moved closer, the room seemed to close in on her, the reality of her situation crashing down with unbearable weight. Y/n could only hope for a quick end, though deep down, she knew that the unknown man had no intention of letting her off that easily.

Y/n could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears, the sound so intense it felt like her skull was about to split open. Her vision blurred, the world around her reduced to a haze of shadows and flickering light. The pain was all-consuming, relentless, and she could feel herself slipping further away, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

The man stepped closer, his face looming over hers as he held up a series of twisted, gleaming instruments. They glinted ominously in the dim light, their sharp edges reflecting the flickering bulb overhead. His grin widened, a sadistic gleam in his eyes as he looked down at her, relishing in her torment.

"Your boyfriend, Wade Wilson, was in this same room once... but instead of serving me as a slave, he decided to leave and blew the fuck off my laboratory and all my researches, as well as shooting me right between the eyes!", he said, his voice filled with hatred. "But this time, you're the one who'll be paying the price for his sins."

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, fear gripping her as she stared up at him. She wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to escape this nightmare. But she was trapped, helpless, and the darkness was closing in fast.

All she could do was pray for a quick death.

If death was even possible anymore.

But deep down, she knew that this was only the beginning of the torment that awaited her. The man's twisted grin was the last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her.

As Y/n's vision blurred and the darkness crept closer, she strained to focus on anything that could anchor her to reality. Her gaze landed on the man's pristine white coat, the only thing untouched by the surrounding filth and decay. Amid the chaos, her eyes caught a detail- one that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Embroidered in neat, black letters over his chest pocket was a name: "Francis."

The word echoed in her mind, a twisted familiarity clawing at the edges of her memory. She tried to make sense of it, but the pain, the fear, and the overwhelming fatigue clouded her thoughts.

"Francis..." she mumbled weakly, her voice barely more than a whisper as her lips struggled to form the word.

Her eyelids grew heavy, the effort to keep them open becoming too much. The world around her faded, the edges of her vision darkening until only the name remained, etched in her mind like a cruel joke.

And then, just as her consciousness slipped away entirely, the darkness finally claimed her.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, happy new year! Love your Elijah fics. Maybe you could do one where he turns off his humanity and the reader gets him to turn it back on again. :)

Cold Truth

{Masterlist}

You and Klaus are on a mission to turn Elijah's humanity switch back on. The only problem is that you are the reason he turned it off in the first place.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 - this one hurt! ♡♡~

4.3k words - Warnings: no smut, but so much angst, dramatic as fuck, violence, kidnapping, Klaus being Klaus, slightly spicy right at the end.

The air was thick with tension as you struggled in your restraints, glancing at Klaus as he drove down an empty street. He was humming to himself, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he was holding you hostage.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," you muttered, tugging on the cuffs that were binding your hands together. "We broke up, it's not a big deal," you added.

"Well, it seems to be a big deal to him," Klaus said, shooting you a knowing smirk. "And it's been affecting my life, so now it's a big deal to me."

You sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as you moved through the town. You didn't want to tell Klaus the details of your break up with Elijah, it was all too painful. But here you were, getting kidnapped by him, on your way to see Elijah, probably about to get murdered by the man you still loved. Great. 

"It won't work you know," you said, staring blankly out the windshield, feeling that little bit of hope in your chest die out. 

"I get that he doesn't have emotions anymore," you continued, "so he definitely doesn't care about you. Whatever little plan you have going, won't work." You sounded desperate to even your own ears, and you hated it, but at least Elijah's lack of feelings gave you an excuse not to be a complete mess when you were in his presence again. He wouldn't care, he was devoid of compassion and guilt. The thought filled your heart with an emptiness that spread to the rest of your body. You let the feeling encompass you, numbing yourself against the pain, because once this ordeal was over, you would be forced to finally accept that Elijah was really, truly, lost forever.

Klaus laughed and turned, shooting you a smirk. "I've done my fair share of terrible things," he began.

"But," he sighed and stopped laughing, "even I can see what a complete shit show this is. You broke up with him a week ago, and he flipped the switch immediately. This whole thing has been dramatic, even for my tastes."

"Oh please," you sneered, turning to glare at him. "You live for drama," you said, rolling your eyes.

Klaus snickered, shaking his head as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Yes, well, as fun as this has been, there's only so much of it I can take."

You huffed and sighed, slumping in your seat as the light turned green. You turned away from him and tried not to let your anxiety show.

"Look," Klaus began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm going to be straight with you, love. Your break up with Elijah has been, inconvenient, to put it simply. He no longer cares about my well-being or the things I do. All he wants to do is feed, kill, drink and maim. I thought I would enjoy this side of him, but it turns out, the guy's a bloody asshole. And since you might have the ability to bring him out of this mess, it's in my best interest to try and help you."

You turned your head slowly, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure do have a way of showing it. Kidnapping is pretty terrible Klaus. Do you have any idea how scared I am right now? Not only have you kidnapped me, you are forcing me to confront my ex-boyfriend after I dumped him."

"I've done plenty to upset Elijah, but he's never flipped the switch over it. What exactly did you do to him?" Klaus demanded. He leaned closer to you, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he parked the car. "I'd suggest you start talking, sweetheart," he drawled, giving you a pointed look.

You bit your lip nervously, breaking under his intense gaze. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and you looked at your lap, chewing the inside of your cheek. You told him the truth, finally letting someone in on the secret you had kept from everyone.

"I told him that I didn't love him anymore, okay? I don't know," you trailed off, tears threatening to escape your eyes. "Look, I just, I needed to tell him something and that seemed easier than telling him the truth."

"So what's the truth?" Klaus asked gently. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so you stayed still and stayed quiet, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you fought the urge to cry. After a few seconds, Klaus said your name softly, and when you looked up at him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to get ahold of yourself before you fell apart completely. "I want children, Klaus," you admitted. "And he can't give them to me. But it's okay, we broke up, and I'm fine." You were most definitely not fine, but that was beside the point. You finally confessed the truth, and felt a small bit of relief.

"Oh," he said. "Do you not want to adopt? Wouldn't surrogacy be an option? I can make a phone call and have a baby delivered to your door by tomorrow," he offered. You laughed, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

"No, Klaus. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying, really I do," you said, giving him a sincere smile. "I want to have his child, and that is... well... impossible," you sighed.

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered what he was thinking. Klaus could be a lot of things, but you could tell he truly loved his siblings, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. His devotion was almost as intense as Elijah's and fear bubbled up in your stomach, knowing you were now in the crossfire of his affections for his older brother.

"You aren't still in love with him, are you?" Klaus asked. You felt your insides tremble at the mere mention of Elijah, but it wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or your head swirl. All you could feel was sorrow, because you knew how painful it would be to see him again. To be near him, but unable to touch him.

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for your answer. When he didn't get one, he asked again. "Answer the question, love," he said.

"Of course I still love him," you mumbled. "How could I not? I will always love him." You chuckled sadly, shaking your head and shrugging. 

"Good, that will make this easier," Klaus said cheerfully, not sure how to react as he began fiddling with the radio station.

"He's going to kill me Klaus," you said, your voice flat and emotionless. "You're dragging me to him, and he's going to torture me or compel me into doing something bad and then when he's finished, he's going to kill me."

"Yes, possibly," Klaus agreed. "However, you could also bring him back and thus make my life a bit easier."

"We can only hope," you sighed. Klaus started driving towards the docks and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control the terror building within you.

"Klaus, where are we going?" you asked warily, looking around.

"Well, my dear brother isn't answering his phone, so I'm tracking it instead," he said, gritting his teeth as he continued driving.

"Can we please just leave him alone?" you begged, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"Please," you added. "I'm begging you, Klaus. Don't torture me like this, I'm not strong enough to lose him twice."

"I really don't care how you feel about this, darling," he said, reaching a hand up and patting your head, before returning it to the steering wheel. "But don't worry, I promise I won't let him kill you."

You would have responded, but Klaus took the last turn and parked in front of one of the ships on the docks. He removed the handcuffs, his eyes darting about your surroundings in paranoia as he grabbed your wrists and dragged you out of the car. You didn't put up a fight and let him pull you along, too frightened and confused to even think about struggling. This wasn't what you had been expecting when Klaus took you, and now you didn't know what to say, so you remained silent and obedient. Klaus released his grip and took a step back, heading up the ramp to the ship.

You took a shaky breath and followed him, shivering a bit as you stepped on board. There was music playing, and while the exterior of the boat looked fairly plain, the inside was quite posh and immaculately decorated. You hesitated, glancing at Klaus, but he nodded his head and you followed him into a room. You could sense that Elijah was close. You slowly breathed in and your nose twitched when you caught the strong scent of bourbon.

"I see you have already begun celebrating, brother," Klaus drawled, glancing around the room.

"That depends on how you define celebration," came a quiet response, and you shuddered at the sound of his voice. It was Elijah, your Elijah, his words ringing with a lack of inflection that wasn't entirely evident in his tone. It had a falsely polite, and strangely charming touch, like the cold indifference and arrogance that comes from experiencing and achieving total freedom.

You watched as he poured himself another glass, sitting back in a chair. He stared straight ahead, not meeting your eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the alcohol, tipping it slightly, and watching it roll around, before putting it down again, not even having taken a sip. You sniffed, doing your best to control your emotions and expression as you watched him, but your mask was slipping, and you couldn't hide the raw pain in your voice when you spoke.

"Are you okay?" you asked, sounding raspy and hoarse, even to your own ears. Normally, it would have made him feel guilty to hear you like this. Maybe he would have replied in his usual soft, intimate tone, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips gently, holding you close. But your Elijah was dead, and there was nothing left but the monster the switch had transformed him into. You glanced at his face and looked away immediately, the coldness in his dark eyes sinking into your soul. They were beautiful, and deadly, gazing at you in cold assessment, and his expression did not change as he gave you a humorless smile.

"I have never been better," he replied, not moving from his relaxed position on the chair, though you noticed a slight tightening in his jaw when you opened your mouth to speak again. You quickly snapped it shut and watched as he tapped the glass with his finger, gazing around the room and sighing. You didn't know if his admission was a good or a bad thing, but the way he carried himself, all arrogant grace and calculated casualness, had alarm bells ringing in your head, telling you that you were in great danger.

It was worse than you had expected. The man you loved, the one who had treated you with such gentleness and tenderness, the man whose heart was filled with love, loyalty and affection for you, was not present at all.

"We shouldn't have come here," you blurted out, your throat constricting at the sudden fear gripping you. His eyes flicked up to look at you, his brow furrowed as he stared. You cleared your throat, casting a worried glance at Klaus, who was standing by the bar, sipping his own drink and watching the whole scene play out.

"Why? What is the problem?" Elijah asked, and you couldn't tell if he was acting cavalier or genuinely didn't care. "You said you wanted to break up, and I obliged you. So tell me," he said, his dark eyes meeting yours, "why are you here?"

"Because," you began, but quickly lost your train of thought, shaking your head and trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. You sucked in a deep breath, tilting your chin up as you spoke. "Because we still have stuff we need to talk about, and we can't when you are like this."

"Like what?" he asked, sounding bored. Your jaw clenched as he casually poured himself more alcohol, draining the contents of his glass quickly and sighing.

"Well," Klaus interrupted, walking over and leaning forward on his knees, "You could start by being a tad less cocky, and try actually listening."

Elijah smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Niklaus, I suggest you shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out."

"That would be amusing," Klaus shot back, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, or have you forgotten I am stronger than you? You can't hurt me."

"Hmm," Elijah hummed thoughtfully, staring intently at his younger brother. "Let's test that."

Before either of you could react, Elijah reached out and grabbed the back of Klaus' head, yanking him forward and bringing his face inches from his own. He glared at him, snarling as Klaus groaned in pain.

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus growled, his fingers flexing. Klaus easily pried his hands off of him and forced him to release him. He shoved Elijah back into the chair, a vicious smirk on his face as he crossed his arms.

"Eli," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You moved to touch his arm, but he snatched it out of your reach and pushed it back, baring his fangs at you, his eyes completely black.

"Do not call me that," he responded coldly, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Elijah said to his brother, and you felt the sadness you had been suppressing all day come rushing back full force. You would not be strong enough to get through this.

"Oh don't blame me, dear brother," Klaus retorted, clasping his hands together and glaring at him in frustration. "It's very much her fault that you turned your humanity off, so I brought her here to fix her mistake."

"A mistake I care not to rectify," Elijah said, lifting his chin up haughtily.

"Oh," Klaus scoffed, fixing him with a nasty glare, "I bet you don't."

"Shut up," you mumbled, blinking furiously. Your legs were shaking, your knees about to give out as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Klaus stepped closer to you and you leaned against him, trembling, clinging to his shirt.

"Get a grip," Klaus hissed, glaring down at you in annoyance. He wrapped a hand around your throat and turned you around to face Elijah. His grip tightened, and you gasped in surprise and pain, your eyes wide as they met Elijah's intense gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, something within him stirred at the sight of your fear, but it was buried beneath the ice of his indifference. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stood up, smoothing down his tie as he approached.

"Niklaus, you are so painfully transparent," he began, an edge of amusement coloring his tone, "I do not care if you hurt her," he added, and his words cut deeper than any physical blow could.

"Eli," you pleaded, a soft whisper of pure agony coming from your lips, "How could you possibly say that? You swore you would always take care of me, protect me." He lowered his eyes, studying your features carefully. He looked down at you, stroking his chin.

"Hmm, you know, now that you say that, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he said, chuckling and stepping closer.

You shut your eyes, stifling a sob and trying to hide the fact that his words had broken your heart, shattering it into pieces. You couldn't bear his mockery, it was almost worse than not having him at all. It made the excruciating pain much more unbearable. Elijah stared at you, leaning closer and brushing a stray hair off of your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours for a split second, causing your lips to part in surprise and confusion, wanting his mouth to capture yours, knowing that the press of his lips was something you would always miss. Even when he was a monster, you felt yourself reacting to him instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But the kiss did not come, and he pulled away before you could rise to meet him.

"Do you think she knows how many ways she can die?" Elijah asked his brother, and Klaus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I mean, with enough patience and creativity, even the simplest forms of death, can be quite extraordinary," he drawled.

Klaus pulled you back from Elijah, his grip on you tightening, you weren't sure who you feared more in that moment. "Elijah, I made a promise that I would not let you kill her," Klaus said, and Elijah rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

"That promise can easily be broken," he said, as if talking about the weather.

"Actually, I thought I would take a page out of your book, find a loophole in the promise I made," Klaus said, his voice taunting as he smiled cruelly. You stopped breathing at his words, your body going rigid, Klaus was going to kill you.

"Elijah?" you whispered desperately, praying that he would protect you from Klaus. You were so cold, and you couldn't move, rooted in place with fear. He turned around abruptly, shrugging his shoulders as he walked across the room to make a new drink.

"You can go ahead and drain her if you so wish. It makes no difference to me," he said.

"Sorry love, I have to call his bluff," Klaus said, patting your head and then running a hand through your hair as his fangs grazed your neck. His voice was dark and malicious. "Say your goodbyes," he smirked.

"Klaus, please," you cried, panic coursing through you, but before he could do anything more, Elijah lunged at him, tearing him away from you. Your back hit the floor hard, your head snapping against the wood, causing you to see stars. You cradled your head, tasting blood in your mouth as you rolled on the floor. Elijah tackled Klaus, growling and snarling viciously, his fingers clenched around his brother's neck as he pinned him to the ground.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," Elijah warned, but Klaus only smirked, using all his strength to shove Elijah off of him. Elijah's back connected with a pillar, falling to the floor as he clutched his head. He just sat there, head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, taking quick, shuddering breaths, attempting to regain some sort of composure. You crawled your way over to him, too dazed to stand up.

"Eli," you gasped, lifting his face up and forcing him to look at you. He didn't try to pull away, letting you caress his jaw. You slowly stroked his hair, shushing him gently as your fingers trailed over his cheekbones.

"Get away from me," he groaned, grabbing your wrist to keep you from touching him. His mind was reeling from the violent overload of emotions coursing through him. Having you here, so close to him, wanting him, loving him, it overwhelmed him, bringing back every single moment he had spent with you, every beautiful, painful, joyous moment of his entire existence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, reaching out to touch him. He wasn't pushing you away, he was just sitting there, hunched over, breathing heavily. Your mind was too foggy to think about the consequences of your actions. There was an excruciating ache in your chest, and you needed Elijah to hold you.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, nuzzling him and letting tears stream down your face. He stilled, not fighting you, but not holding you.

"I lied to you Elijah, I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him tighter. "I love you, I never stopped. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He didn't move, keeping his expression guarded as he put an arm around you, turning his body slightly to pull you in closer. He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips to the side of your head in a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, your scent invading his nose, your hair tickling his neck. He sighed, your words, your presence, it was like a spark lighting up a flame of emotions in his chest as the switch in his head turned back on.

"I could never stop loving you," he murmured, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit, keeping you close to him.

"Well, looks like my work is done. Do give her a ride home when you are done, Elijah," Klaus drawled, smirking in triumph as he stood watching you, before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Elijah gripped your chin gently and forced you to turn to face him. You were horrified by the sadness in his dark eyes, but the relief you felt at seeing the love there tore you apart, and you burst into tears, gripping his face and pulling him towards you, kissing his lips, his jaw, his forehead, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

"Darling," he sighed, looking down at your tear stained face. He gently ran his thumb over your cheekbone, bringing your forehead to his as he just held you.

"Forgive me, I-I-was so scared," you managed to get out, but he hushed you, your breathing synchronizing as he hugged you tightly, running a hand through your hair.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, pulling away and stroking your neck, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.

"I was afraid," you replied, sniffing and wiping your tears. "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it would be easier to let you go if I pushed you away instead."

"What were you afraid of?" he questioned, guiding your face up, needing to see your beautiful, tear filled eyes.

"I was terrified at the prospect of getting old, growing old, and putting you through that. You'd have to watch as you lived a lifetime with me, and eventually I would be gone and you would be left alone," you gasped out, the words flowing out unbidden, unable to control yourself now that the gates had been opened. "and.. I want children of my own, and a family, I can't have all of that with you. This past week I've been so torn, I thought leaving you was the best thing to do, because I knew my choice would hurt you, and you didn't deserve that, and I didn't know how else to do this."

Elijah smiled sadly, shaking his head and cupping your cheeks. "None of that matters, my darling, and it never will. Don't you understand that? You are worth the heartache, the pain, the loss. You are worth being human for."

He kissed you gently, brushing your hair out of your face, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as you fisted your hands in his shirt, allowing him to pour all of his love and heartache into the kiss. You were left breathless, staring into his eyes, seeing the sadness there that matched yours.

"As for children, I know a few witches that could help us solve that issue," he said. You blinked rapidly, stunned that his answer was so easy, simple. The corners of his lips quirked up, and you felt your heart thundering in your chest, desperate to have him, keep him forever.

"Do you want that? To have children with me?" you asked, your hands in his, hoping, praying, that he truly understood what he was getting himself into.

"With you, yes, anything you wish for, I will give you," he replied, resting his head on your shoulder, and nuzzling your neck. You drew in a deep breath, so relieved and overcome with a surge of emotions that you grabbed his head and planted another firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that had you smiling despite all the tears you were shedding. Your fingers were clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer to you as you continued to kiss him, memorizing everything, his taste, the curves of his lips, the way his tongue felt against yours. He put his arm around your waist, and shifted, scooping you up into his lap, and into his arms.

"When was the last time we made love?" he whispered against your lips, pulling away and looking into your eyes, his gaze caressing your features softly.

"Three months," you whispered, stroking his stubbled jaw, running your fingers over his lips, marveling at the feel of his warm, soft skin, thinking that you almost never had the chance to be with him again.

"That's much too long," he murmured, sliding his hands up your thighs and grinning seductively. You chuckled, feeling a heated blush creep up your neck and spread across your cheeks. His fingers traced the edge of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I love you, Elijah Mikaelson," you said, grinning broadly as your fingers threaded through his hair, savoring the feel of it. He just sat, staring at you with warmth and adoration, unspoken love shining in his deep brown eyes.

"For eternity, I will love you, my y/n," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against yours, and you melted into him, gripping the back of his neck as you felt a piece of your soul slide back into place, wrapped tightly around his heart.

[kaisturni]

bewitched | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ oc! created for the plot

→ plot; you and matt attend the wedding of your best friends, and he comes a realization about you that he should’ve known all along.

→ warnings; absolutely NONE. tooth aching, cavity inducing, sickly sweet fluff.

→ a/n; i’m so sorry i reread this and literally had to post

NOT PROOFREAD KINDA

——————————————————————————

“ready, man? big day today, huh?” matt shook, his best friends shoulders lovingly, excited to watch nathan get married, a sentiment you two always talked about together, the future wedding of the person that grew up beside the both of you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

“what do you think about charlotte?” he asked you whilst taking a sip of the milkshake you were sharing at dinner.

“oh, she’s the one.” he furrowed his eyebrows at you, confused by the certainty of your statement.

“how can you be so sure, they’ve only been together six months or so?”

you looked off to the side, giggling at his question, fiddling the straw wrapper between your manicured hands.

“she’s just so right for him, y’know? i’ve never seen him do the things he does for her, for anyone. they take care of each other. call it the honeymoon phase whatever, that’s going to last with them. oh man, have you seen the way he looks at her? that never goes away. when you know you know? right?”

he shrugs his shoulders, “yeah i guess so”

he had no reason to argue with you about your reasoning for why exactly charlotte was the one for nathan,

“only time can tell” he adds

“exactly right, matty. but time is all they need”

even then you had such an optimistic look on love. it was natural, real, and easy. you had no reason to believe a love like that couldn’t exist. but to put it bluntly, he didn’t exactly have the same compass as you when it came to love. he too had no reason to not believe a love like that was real, but that wasn’t something he could tell you. his relationship with you had only been a couple of weeks down the line. matt wasn’t ready to lose you just yet, so he kept those thoughts to himself.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

“i’ve waited for this day since i met charlotte, when you know you know, am i right?” fixing the cuff links on his slick black suit,

deja vu hit him, and he thought of your words in a conversation you had years ago,

“for sure, now get out there and marry her”

the pair hugged, and nathan disappeared out to the venue, excitedly finding his way to the altar, the ceremony was about to begin.

of course, it wasn’t just him in the room, his brothers nick and chris, and nathan’s other groomsmen were also in collective. each got to walk down the isle with a member of charlotte’s party, you included, being her maid of honor after, and him as nathan’s best man. you were the ones to introduce them, after all. he faced the mirror on the other side of him, watching the men around him mingle and laugh. he fixed his own cuff links and tie in the mirror, almost letting himself think it was his own big day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the wedding party lined up, waiting for their cue to enter, you and matt being first. he hasn’t seen you yet that day, too busy scrambling; helping charlotte all day, getting ready yourself, and making sure everything was perfect for your best friend. right now, his mind could only imagine how beautiful you looked.

to be fair, he already knew how striking you were. since the day you two met, you were always the one to catch his eye. he could never focus on anyone else but you. in his mind it was young love; the love that makes you dumb, and wild, the kind that doesn’t truly last. now that years have passed you’ve been dating, and you’ve grown together, his dress shoes suddenly didn’t fit and the collar of his shirt was too tight on his neck, the thought of letting you go one day made him feel uncomfortable.

matt shook the thought out of his head, right on time to hear the music, signaling him to walk in to the ceremony.

you enter the same time he does, and his entire body felt weak at the sight of you.

matt knew you were never one to dress up, always in something casual and comfortable, unless necessary. he never gets to see you like this, the seldom times being prom and a handful of your own college formals. but nothing compared to this.

the black strapless dress hugged your skin perfectly, accentuating all your curves, paired flawlessly with white heels, yet you still fell short under his height.

your hair was neatly kept in an updo, soft curls falling in front of your face, he always loved seeing you with your hair up.

your delicate hold of the bouquet in your hands, french tips on your nails, as always.

your whole body glowed with radiance, and you met his face with a warm smile, which he gladly returned. he couldn’t help but think how strikingly perfect you looked; every detail of you he took in, there was no part of you that was a mystery to him.

matt has seen you be beautiful in every stage of life you’ve known each other, and this time it was astonishing as the first time around.

his mind trailed back to when you two were in high school and university; when you were still a girl and he got to call you that.

his girl.

but that was not the person standing in front of him, you were a woman now.

his woman.

you brought him out of his daydream, with a soft “hi,” soft enough that only his blessed ears could hear.

he mouthed the same back to you, and offered you his arm which you gladly took, effortlessly shifting the bouquet to your other hand. he looked forward at his best friend standing at the altar, nathan’s gaze bouncing between you and matt, smile growing exponentially bigger.

you and matt made your way down the isle, the trail of the others behind you following shortly after.

his mind went back to the thoughts he had earlier of what his wedding day would be like; walking down a similar path, similar people as his own groomsmen, but different decorations and maybe some different guests, but one constant was there,

and it was you.

meeting nathan at the end of the walkway, matt hugged him first and you following,

“thank you,” nathan whispered in your ear, you broke the hug, giving him a silent ‘of course’ as you shuffled to your side in front of the other women.

an instrumental began to play; charlotte was about to walk in. you could barely contain the excitement of seeing your best friend marry the love of her life. you felt a little proud about being part of the reason her and nathan started dating, but you were always humble about it.

matt on the other hand, he wasn’t thinking about charlotte; hell, he wasn’t even thinking about nathan. he could only think of you, and how you were beaming with joy in the moment.

would you be the same way on your big day?

‘Wrapped me in your arms

Leaned in and whispered

"Keep me in your heart"

‘I'm so bewildered

What's this new desire called?’

‘I didn't know that much at all 'bout love before

But now, I think I'm learning’

in all honesty, he never paid much attention to the lyrics, just knew that you liked it. but for once, his ears tuned in.

‘You bewitched me

From the first time that you kissed me’

that was true. your first kiss together was sweet and innocent, shared after only one date at the most dive style restaurant in boston. even from that day, he was hooked on you.

‘Waited all night

Then we ran down the street in the late London light

The world froze around us, you kissed me good night’

the grand doors fell open, and there she was. charlotte was glowing. a perfect bride on her perfect day, everyone turning their entire bodies to look at her. but matt’s eyes never left you.

‘You bewitch me

Every damn second you're with me’

he watched your eyes become glossy, tears almost immediately streaming down from your face as you happily wept at the sight the girl you’ve known for years.

‘I try to think straight

But I'm falling so badly, I'm coming apart’

matt had to force himself to rip his gaze from you, now looking at nathan, who was biting his lip, doing little to nothing to stop the pools of tears coming from his eyes. matt could only think how lucky he was to get to experience this. to marry the woman he’s been so sure about for so long.

‘You wrote me a note, cast a spell on my heart

And bewitched me’

deja vu hit matt again, and it hit him hard.

“only time can tell” he remembers exactly how those words came out of his mouth that day.

“exactly right, matty. but time is all they need”

you were right. you were always right. now he knew. time was all he needed.

‘You're not even gone

I already miss you

What's going on?’

he was too caught up in thinking that all good things come to an end, that his first love wouldn’t last, and it would only be a matter of time. you were the only good thing he didn’t want to end.

‘I've never been through

This all-consuming fire fuming

Cursing at the moon and losing all control and crying

'Cause I think I'm falling’

a shaky breath released from his mouth, feeling the guilt of not realizing he wanted to marry you sooner, how you always did things for him, things you wouldn’t do for anyone else; you took care of him.

he lost count of how many times he pulled himself into reality from his own thoughts today, and as charlotte made her way to hold hands with nathan, she whispered an ‘i love you,” to you, matt finally felt his eyes gloss with tears, at both the sight in front of him and the thought of you. all of you.

he knew he wanted you all to himself, forever.

your eyes finally met his, not knowing he was looking at you this entire time. you gave him that smile again, a tear dropping down his face.

“i love you,” he mouthed, you let out a gentle breath at his words. he knew were usually the one to say it first, not like he never said it. he said it all the time; but you were quick to steal those three words from his breath without even realizing.

“i love you,” he watches you mouth back, doing your best to not interrupt the moment happening in front of the two of you.

he vowed silently to cherish you forever, love you ljke there’s no tomorrow, vow to make you his wife. vow to show everyone the way he looks at you, because that will never go away. matt almost selfishly knows you feel the same way, thinking about how you predicted the future of your best friends only half a year into their relationship. why would you stay with him if you didn’t feel that, too?

because when you know you know? right?

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 89: Avoalet; Golden Hills, Part 12

[raineandsky]

Hiiiii, love ur writing!!! May I request a story about the strong and undefeatable villain getting some head injury (maybe concussion) during the battle with some third party, and after that peacefully resting on a bench in alley, but then hero finds him and decides to help, even though these two don't like each other. Pretty please 🐹☘️💗

your please was so pretty i couldnt not write this! i really enjoyed this one, i hope you do too :D

Part of the hero’s job is helping those in need. Stopping when they cross someone lying on a park bench, in the dingiest, darkest part of the park, just feels normal to them in the moment.

That is until they notice who it is.

“[Villain]?” The hero can’t think of anything else to say. Their hands are already halfway to the cuffs in their pocket. “What’re you doing out here?”

This is the part where the villain leaps up with a laugh about how the hero’s fallen into a trap, leaping into a monologue before the inevitable battle.

But instead the villain opens his eyes to glance at them, his gaze not fully focusing on them, and simply says “‘m tired.”

The hero crouches down to his level. It’s clear he has no intention of getting up. They open their mouth to say something curt, distrusting, but they stop themself short.

They’ve noticed the blood painting the other side of the villain's face, dried into his hair and on his skin. Panic flutters in the hero’s gut. How bad is it? What happened? Their training only covered the basics of first aid. This wasn’t part of it.

He looks so small like this. The hero had always thought of the villain as indestructible, perfect in every evil way. But this—he’s defeatable, he’s normal, he’s human. Just like the rest of them.

They carefully push the villain over, earning a disgruntled “eugh” that they ignore to brush his hair away and take in the damage.

“Are yo’ shoes clean?” he says shortly as the hero grapples with a tissue from their pocket. “I think… I’m gonna throw up.”

“Please don’t.” They carefully take their tissue to the villain’s head, which he tries to cringe away from. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Wha’?”

“What happened to you, [Villain]?”

The villain’s eyes train on the hero's idly, unseeingly. “There’s stars on your face.”

“Okay. Okay.” Blood has turned the tissue into a crime scene, but it’s making little difference to the state of the villain. “We need to get you some help.”

It barely even occurs to the hero to do otherwise. A hero isn’t a hero without the soul to do the hardest parts of kindness, they know. To show mercy to those who might not deserve it. To help those who likely don’t want it. To show the villain compassion they know they’ll never get back.

The hero pulls the villain upright, with absolutely no help from the villain. They get him sitting up and he almost keels straight back over the moment they let go.

They settle on the bench next to him, careful to hold him up. “How’re you feeling, [Villain]?”

“I hav’ the… worst headache.” It comes out disjointed, like he’s piecing the sentence together as he says it. The hero pulls his arm over their shoulder. “Wha’s going on?”

“We’re going to the hospital.” The villain barely reacts to this, when before the hero probably would’ve had to drag him there kicking and screaming before. “We’re going to stand up, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

The villain sways on his feet as the hero pulls him up, a slight stagger almost taking them both down. “Oup,” he says with a short breath of a laugh.

“Okay,” the hero says again, more to themself than to the villain. “Let’s get you fixed.”

The hero walks the villain all the way to the hospital, the journey slow and full of close encounters with the pavement, and makes themself at home in his hospital room.

The villain would never do the same for the hero. They’re a villain. Obviously. That’s why the hero is the good guy. They'd expect nothing less.

But when the villain wakes up properly, coherent and all-there, the first thing out of their mouth is an absolutely seething, entirely genuine “thank you.”

[diapydemon]

Exercise

It had been so long since I had had any… adult attention.

I know we agreed to take our kinks to the next level, but still — I haven’t cum in months. Every time mommy walked by, my swelling member strained against my plastic pink cage. It was starting to become too much

I had tried my best to be the good baby mommy wanted, but I needed to cum! And I have been a good baby! I’ve been using my diapers without complaints, I haven’t said any bad words, and —excruciatingly— I haven’t cum or had an accident once!

Maybe that’s why mommy had so much compassion when I had my little outburst, as she had called it.

“Mommy!” I whined as I eyed her shapely figure, “Please!! I needa cum!!”

“Hmmm,” Mommy contemplated my request, “Well you have been quite a good boy recently…”

I hung on every word, desperation written all over my face.

“And I suppose it would be good for you to get some excercise in…”

“P-pwease Mommy,” I whimpered, trying to secure her decision.

“Tell you what sweetie,” she smiled down at me, “Mommy ordered you a special toy that’ll help. You just gotta wait a couple days for it to come in, and then you’ll feel all better! Can you be patient for Mommy?”

“MmmHmmm,” I moaned.

A few days past, and my sorry state of desperation had only gotten worse. But I knew if I acted out or misbehaved in any way, mommy would take my relief away to punish me for my naughtiness. For better or worse, I was committed to being her obedient baby.

Then, it arrived.

“Sweetheart, your new toy arrived! Why don’t you come out back and take a look!”

I quickly waddled outside to see whatever relief was in store for me. It… wasn’t what I was expecting. My cheeks burned scarlet as I saw my new toy.

Sitting in the backyard was a yoga ball adorned with a sattle that had a dildo, handcuffs, and ankle cuffs attached to it.

“M-mommy?” My voice quivered.

“Doesn’t it look like so much fun, princess! And we were talking about fitting some more excercise into your routine!”

“Uhmm…”

“Oh don’t be shy darling,” Mommy giggled, “How about we strap you in, and you can have fun bouncing around the back yard until you make stickies in your little diaper.”

“S-stickies?” I could barely believe my ears.

“That’s right, princess!”

“D-do I get to take my cage off?”

“Ahwww baby no,” mommy giggled, “you’re gonna cum like a princess or not at all. No matter how long it takes.”

“But—“

“Ah ah,” Mommy silenced me, “the only butt I want to hear about is the one that’s gonna be bouncing up and down on that big dildo, which is yours sweet pea.”

Mommy grabbed me by the wrists, and I knew better than to fuss. Before I knew it, my ankles and my wrists were tightly secured in mommy’s contraption. I immediately felt the pressure of the big pink dildlo through my diaper. This was going to be a long playtime…

“Ok sweet pea. While you play, Mommy’s going to go start on Din-din. I’ll be watching from inside.”

——————————————

As always, all characters depicted are 18+

Hey everyone, tumblr nuked my account again, so I’m rewriting these captions to reclaim them in the hopes that my followers find me again.

Credit to @Moophins for the image

[itsabouttimex2]

Ahhhhh the Tang Sanzang and Wukong fic was so good! I adore the interactions between demon reader and them- though i am curious how did the rest of the JTTW crew react to the mischievous scamp of the forest?

Taken Aboard

Pilgrim Reactions:

(I had to use this gif again because there is jackshit for Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing in the LMK gif community. Give me my boys….)

Ao Lie is… rather confused that his master saw fit to bring along a child on this dangerous journey. After all, the path ahead is fraught with many dangers and perils. Perhaps the little one would be safer in the care of a monastery? Or even a kindly pair who had long wished for a child? Sure, they may be a demon, but they’re clearly not malicious or cruel!

However, the monk is set in his actions. Your wrists are cuffed with blessed bands, set to restrict when a sutra (separate from Wukong’s) is chanted. Your ragged clothing is replaced with a proper, covering cossack and walking shoes that they had to force your feet into as you screamed and kicked.

But in spite of the confusion he bears, Lie is a little happy, too! He’s got a little sister/brother to dote on now! As one of the gentler and less troublesome members of this little gang, he’s often tasked with watching over them, especially when the group is attacked by demons.

Though it takes him a while to coax you into actually taking him up on it, the white dragon horse frequently offers you rides. At first, you’re a bit too proud to accept, trudging along even as you tire from walking. He wants so bad for you to trust him, and maybe; in time, to consider him an older brother. And if that means he has to pester and push you into accepting a little bit of doting? So be it!

And one day you will accept. Worn to exhaustion from another demon attack and thoroughly admonished by your master after another escape attempt, your body is worn and sore. The fillets around your wrists have ground your skin raw, leaving you to whimper with each step that makes the cuffs jangle against your fresh wounds.

So, finally… you clamber up and onto his back with a few pained noises, sniffling into his lavish white mane.

“Brother Lie,” you hiccup, arms snaking around his neck. “Master got angry with me again.”

“Oh dear… did you try to run away again? Little one, it’s much safer to stay with your brothers and master!” Though his voice is not without compassion, he clearly sympathizes more with the monk who’s been intent on keeping you around. Mostly because he agrees with not letting something as small and precious as your little self take even a single step out of sight.

He… he just doesn’t want to lose you, that’s all! It’s not strange to want to protect a fellow demon! Why, you’re hardly more than a baby! Look at you, you poor thing! Tiny features and scrawny form and big eyes!

How could he risk you being unhappy? How could he risk you being hurt?

“Stay with me, little one! Big brother will find you something nice to eat! And then I’ll see if master has something for your poor wrists, hmm?”

———————————————————————

Sun Wukong is somewhat baffled that you’re being brought along, honestly.

Baby? A baby? A little forest-dwelling baby?Why, you’re no taller than his hip! Here, come here and “let him check your height” and then he snatches you off the ground with a grin.

“I may be no tree, but you’re hardly even a flower,” the monkey teases casually, throwing you into the air. “You haven’t even sprouted, bud! How are you going to keep up with such little legs? Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘Keeper of Great Beasts’, Y/N?” He catches you, then another throw, higher into the air. “Kiddo, they’d crush you under their feet and not feel a thing!”

“Wukong! Be gentle with the child! And stop teasing them!”

“Aww, but they like it,” he calls back to his master, patting your head as you flail to gain purchase from the arm he’s tucked you under, strangled by the accidental grip he has around your throat.

He’s, uh… not the gentlest or most responsible.

But- he makes for a good playmate! And that doesn’t sound all too serious or important, sure… but Y/N has a lot of skills they need to build, and socialization is one of them. Under Sanzang’s watchful eye are you pulled into many games and chases, helping you build basic skills and strength as you and Wukong wrestle or race.

I like to think he carries you on his back like a baby monkey when you get too tired, clinging tight to his strong-as-iron fur, nestling against the near-invulnerable fluff from behind.

“Brother Wukong, tell me your titles,” you say sleepily, having gaining some modicum of respect for the simian through constant playing and occasional training with him.

“And then tell you how I got them?” “And then tell me how you got them.”

This exchange essentially boils down “tell me a bedtime story,” and “sure, sweetie” but the only one who realizes that is the Great Monk, Tang Sanzang- who is trying very hard not to melt from the cuteness of it all.

Y/N getting to enjoy some measure of a happy and harm-free childhood in the form of the Great Sage’s furry arms, one hand thumping your back as he recites an old tale or two.

This massively improves Sanzang’s opinion of him, too. Seeing Wukong genuinely tamper down the ego and potential bloodlust (assuming he’s anything like in the novel) to be truly gentle with someone who definitely needs someone to trust and rely on… it’s quite redeeming of his character, certainly.

Probably tampers down his yandere behavior the best… until you get injured, and then all the other pilgrims get to see the strength with which he used to wreak havoc on Heaven.

And there will be blood. And bone shards. And brain matter. And eventually, the utter and thorough destruction of what was once a demon. No one can sway him from the carnage, not even the tightening-fillet sutra.

After all, isn’t every “big brother’s” job to protect his little siblings?

——————————————————————-—-

Zhu Baije is probably the most resistant to having you along, mostly because he knows he’ll have to be “polite” and “patient” with you around, some whelp dragged to the world from the root of a fallen fruit tree.

Often tries to trick you out of food, but gets petulant when you try the same thing with him. And then he has the gall to ask you to help him identify poisonous plants and berries for him to snack on. Under threat of the sutra being recited, you grudgingly give him proper advice.

Now, it’s not that he can’t be sweet and doting-

It’s just that he doesn’t want to be.

Also, he brings out the idiot in you very quickly, causing Sanzang to try and supervise any and all interactions between the two of you. Because when he doesn’t, you get this:

“Y/N, there’s a stronghold of demons here! What are we supposed to do?!”

Y/N, who has lived in a sprawling forest with big scary animals from the moment they were born: “…maybe we should try to make ourselves look bigger.”

“Brother Swine, come and help me overturn this log!” “S-Swine?! You little brat, you better call me by my name!” “Or else what… Brother Swine?” “Or else I’ll-“

“Enough,” calls the Great Monk, stern and tired. “Enough squabbling, my disciples! If we are to see this journey to the end, we must all cooperate! Please, Zhu Bajie, lend your hand to Y/N. They asked not out of laziness, but as acknowledgment of your strength!”

“…huh. Alright, then! I can help!”

But, slowly, he does come to care about you. Letting you rest your head on his gut like a squishy pillow, carrying you when you get hurt, making sugar-sweetened herbal tea to share with you, letting you hide behind him when Sanzang is looking for you…

And then he eats the first human being who tries to hurt you. All across you is a messy shower of splattered gore and sundered organs, painting your face and body.

It’s proof, crimson and wet, that he really does love you, in spite of everything.

——————————————————————-—-

Sha Wujing, to start off- adores Y/N. They’re tiny! They’re cute! They transform into adorable animals! They can talk to beasts and trees!

And… they treat him like a person. An actual, thinking, feeling, person.

He definitely tries to dote on the kid, and I think he’s a strong contender for being their favorite person. How monstrous he is! How powerful! Like the great beasts that lived in their forest, tall and proud and imposing!

Wujing reminds them of home, essentially. Y/N is constantly crawling all over him as they would the beasts of their grand forest. He allows the strange behavior, understanding that the kid’s never had real interaction with other people outside of toying with travelers or waylaying attackers.

Always kneeling my down to their level and trying to make the child feel safe and heard. He often shares tales of his river and interesting passerby, and Y/N responds in turn, speaking of their forest. The two of them laugh and bond over their shared experiences.

And off the side, Sanzang is listening in with horror all across his face as they compare stories of killing and eating invaders who dared come to their homes.

Lots of piggyback and shoulders rides, and just barely being able to peel over his red mop of hair. He’s also one of the only people who you let mess with your hair, allowing him to comb and braid it.

“Brother Sand,” you call aloud, a nickname just a touch more affectionate than those you’ve given his companions. “Come look at the creatures I have found in the riverbank!”

And man drops everything to spend a little more time with you, happy to let you push little creatures into his massive palms as he teaches you their names.

And maybe, if things go wrong… the bloody butchering and head-piking/skull-stringing of anyone who even looks at you wrong. Maybe.

In general, just an absolute delight.

——————————————————————-—-

Tang Sanzang believes entirely in the possibility of anyone becoming a better person through hard work and effort.

So little Y/N, the Guardian who Spreads Growth, Keeper of Great Beasts:

Put flatteringly: Is adopted by five men and treated as a cherished; if troublesome, little sibling who is doted on and allowed to become a better person. Lots of good food and cozy clothing, and they never go hungry or cold again. They’re taught to read and write, and never are without unconditional love.

Put unflatteringly: is forcibly displaced from their home and made to adopt new customs and styles, severed from that which they know and love to become someone else’s idea of “right”. Also they get torture bands slapped on their wrists.

Sanzang tries to be fatherly and kind with Y/N, attempting to delve into the “why” of any mischievous or cruel actions you commit instead of simply writing them off as “bad”.

“So… you thought that man was going to hurt you?”

“He smiled at me! With all his teeth! It was a threat, Master! And then he walked towards me with a hand out!”

“…I see. You were scared of being hurt, then?”

“I- No! No! I didn’t say I was scared! I wasn’t!”

Lots of “therapy sessions” to help work through your feral mindset and improve your problem solving skills.

In general, solving problems while trying not to be frustrated. For example:

Given that Y/N has never once cut their hair, it’s even longer than they are tall, and proves to be quite a bit of trouble. And they respond violently to his attempts to cut it, screaming and swiping like a feral cat. It takes a few weeks of nudging and asking, but Sanzang gets them to submit to a “trim” that cuts more than five feet of hair away and still leaves the little demon’s locks dangling down to their ankles. He’ll try for more later, but allows you to be for a while.

Then, cutting your nails. And washing the grime from your body. And getting you into shoes that you’ll keep on. He settles for boots with laces, given that you can’t tie or untie them. Y/N, you’re sitting on the ground in front of him seething because you aren’t flexible enough to bend forward and chew through the twine lacing. Also, in order for him to get them on in the first place someone has to restrain you, so one of your “brothers” is getting the silent treatment. (It’s Wukong.)

He won’t ever be “Brother Sanzang” or “Brother Monk”, but he will get something better:

“…father,” you’ll finally say after a full year of traveling with him, lying in a puddle of tears with your head in his lap. “Please… please forgive me, father.”

“Oh, Y/N… of course, of course. Come now, sit with me. Let me tend your wounds and wipe your tears. All will be well.. my child.”

And maybe, just maybe… he’ll think about taking one of your circlets off.

[comma-tose]

Something I noticed that I REALLY don't like is just how much current borderlands seems to be trying to diminish Rhys and Fiona's personalities and achievements.

It started out with Rhys in Borderlands 3, where Vaughn implied he was fake and that they haven't spoken in years for some reason??? Then it happened again in New Tales, where Rhys was written as incompetent, and an awful boss that fires his employees for having ONE bad idea.

It also essentially calls him a warmonger that's focused entirely on profits, and has no moral compass beyond "the almighty dollar". Going as far as to explicitly state that that is literally Atlas's motto.

Aside from all that it also says that Atlas is essentially failing and that Rhys has absolutely no idea what he's doing, which is especially weird considering how in Borderlands 3 it's stated that Promethea is finally starting to do well for itself again, and through Echo logs you hear that even Marcus is impressed with how well Rhys is doing.

So for Rhys we have him losing connection with his best friend and being called an idiot, fake, being mischaracterised as a terrible person that apparently learnt nothing and has regressed as a person to a borderline unrecognisable state.

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

And now we get to Fiona. Since borderlands 3 treats the female protagonist of Tales as if she just doesn't exist, Fiona's story continues in Debt or Alive so...

SPOILER WARNING FOR DEBT OR ALIVE.

Not only is Fiona characterised VERY strangely in the book but they also just give Sasha credit for some of what Fiona does, and Fiona alone tends to be the target of blame in the book. Oh and she gets compared to Handsome Jack for good measure.

To start off with, Fiona doesn't even get her wish from the Vault of the Traveller. She gives it to Sasha, and Sasha wishes for a rare Vaultlander figurine of Typhon DeLeon which is destroyed a couple of chapters later. So not only does Fiona not even get to use her wish but the product of the wish gets destroyed anyway so it's entirely pointless.

Fiona also just decides to not be a vault hunter. That conversation she can have with Rhys SECONDS before this happens, about how it suits her, about how she's sad the adventure is over? It's just ignored. She immediately gives it up because she doesn't want Sasha vault hunting and getting put in danger again. Sure she still likes vault hunting but it is immediately given up. (I could write a whole other post about why this bugs me and I probably will).

Fiona has flaws that are addressed in the books, as they should be, all characters have to have flaws, but she is the only one out of the sisters to have flaws addressed. Sasha's are treated as if they don't exist, even when they're very apparent. Fiona learns to not be overprotective, and that she can't stop Sasha from doing things she wants to BUT Sasha doesn't learn anything. She does impulsive things that endanger both her and Fiona, and her risking their safety for fun or on a whim is just never mentioned. (Again something else I'll definitely talk about in another post).

Fiona is also consistently the one who comes up with the plans in the book, while Sasha is either not doing anything or suggesting they take the easy way out. Fiona is the one to start removing the debt cuffs from people while Sasha stands there bewildered, asking what she's doing. Fiona is the one to come up with the plan to scam the billionaires so that they can use the money to free everyone from debt while Sasha suggests just funding Gaige's revenge scheme (and assumedly just abandoning the people in debt??). And Fiona is the one to figure out how to get into Holloway's panic room and save everyone.

Fiona having her moments to shine would be great if they consistently didn't end with her being called an idiot, getting badly hurt, failing, or at one point being compared to Handsome Jack of all people. (Additional point: Sasha doesn't even defend her when she's compared to Jack, which is weird and very out of character.)

This might be petty but the book also gives credit to Sasha for Fiona surviving Bossanova's murder rally in Tales. Which is really weird considering Sasha and Fiona were separated during the entirety of that event. So instead of mentioning a time where Sasha actually helped save Fiona, like in the bio-dome when she was caught by Finch and Kroger, I guess they're actively retconning an event to give Sasha the credit. For some reason.

Fiona also has to confront Sasha about how she's treating Rhys, but then like a chapter later she literally apologises for all that, despite having every right to call Sasha out for that. So again Sasha's flaws are not being recognised as actual flaws and instead it's Fiona who's somehow in the wrong and Sasha learns nothing. Sure by the end of the book she considers Rhys her boyfriend but she is never the one to tell him. Fiona is, because Sasha just doesn't bother to, because it never treats her as someone who has to grow as a person. Sasha is usually either just used as a plot device to progress things or just doing almost nothing while being given credit, instead of being developed like a proper character. I'd call her a shell of what Tales Sasha was but even that feels too generous.

I used to really want to see the Tales characters in other borderlands media, but at this point I just dread it. Because why would I want to see my favourite characters being wildly mischaracterised and mistreated by the franchise?