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tayraedoll · 1 month ago

Text

My Compliments to the Chef

You and Alastor face-off in the kitchen. Who will be crowned the superior chef? And what will the prize be?

TW: Swearing, mentions of death, mention of fire, death by fire, self-loathing, enemies to lovers, SLOW(ish) BURN, mention of drug addiction, mention of dementia, angst, some fluff towards the end.

Word count: 3,721

Salt. Fat. Acid. Heat. These four simple elements were the building blocks to every culinary masterpiece. You lived and breathed by them, working tirelessly until you had perfected each individual component. Thousands of hours spent in the kitchen using every kind of stove, range, and grill; finally, all that hard work had paid off when you opened your own restaurant. The critics raved about your cuisine, you had a full house nearly every single night, and the headlines were calling you the next celebrity chef. Everything had been an absolute dream, until it became your worst nightmare.

You try not to think about the fire, although it was nearly impossible not to. You weren't sure how it started, just that is spread within seconds and engulfed everything in its path. You didn't even have time to run before you the flames completely surrounded you; you can still feel how excruciating the smoke felt in your lungs...and how you burned.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

The kitchen timer pulls you from your trance with a gasp. Your eyes quickly dart around as you momentarily struggle to gain your bearings. Right, you were in Charlie's kitchen at the Hazbin Hotel...and your pork chops were burning.

"Shit!", you exclaim as you scramble for your oven mitts. Luckily, you got to the meat just in time and started simmering your green beans and mashing your potatoes as the pork rested. The kitchen was your safe space, something familiar that brought you comfort as you struggled to process your death, how ironic it was that it was the same room you died in. It was more than just the familiarity of the space though, it was also that the kitchen was the only room that did not have any mirrors.

Accepting your demonic body proved a greater struggle than accepting your untimely death. You still looked very human, much more so than most other residents of the hotel, but your skin was littered with angry, red splotches- permanent burn marks. They were not raised and did not hurt, but were certainly unsightly(to you). Your hair was the same color it was when you died, but was singed on the ends and your eyes were now a fiery orange, the amber color far from a natural shade for a human. Most say you were lucky to get such a tame demonic appearance, but it only served as a reminder of how your skin crackled under the flame.

You were just stirring the sour cream and cheddar cheese into your mashed potatoes when the hotel guests started filing into the kitchen for dinner.

"Mmm smells great Y/N!", Charlie smiled at you before taking her seat.

"Yea Toots, I'm starving!", Angel called out as you were chopping the chives to garnish the meal with.

Everyone loved your cooking, immediately digging in as soon as you handed them their plate. Well...almost everyone anyways, there was a certain scarlet cervid demon that you could never get a read on whenever he ate what you prepared. Most of the time he just ate in silence with that spine-chilling smile on his face, not giving you a single clue as to what he was thinking.

Alastor and you were not exactly friends. The kitchen was his sanctuary as well, this particular kitchen in the hotel was his domain long before you ever showed up. But you refused to let him frighten you from the one place you felt at peace; so you struck an agreement that you would rotate meal duties and stay out of each other's way. You two really brought the old "too many cooks in the kitchen" phrase back to life.

The worst part of the whole ordeal for you was that you desperately wanted his approval. Alastor himself was a masterful chef, having a century of experience blending flavors together creating symphonies for the pallet. His creole meals-cooked entirely from just his memory- were absolutely to double-die for and you knew you would never come close to replicating them even with the best ingredients Hell had to offer. You had tried every kind of cuisine you could think of to impress him, from steak to lasagna and enchiladas to scotch eggs. He still gave you nothing- just a quiet meal, but at least he always cleaned his plate so that had to count for something.

But tonight you were hoping for a true reaction. This meal was the house specialty at your restaurant; you were hesitant to make it, there was so much emotional baggage attached so this once beloved dish. You took your time picking out the right pork chops- they had to be of even thickness and trim, as the star of the dish they could not be any less than perfect. You then made sure to get the freshest spices and produce you could find and pulled out every trick you knew from searing the meat in garlic butter to your added secret ingredients to the spuds This meal put you on the map in the living world, you were hoping it would at least put you in Alastor's orbit.

You carefully watched The Radio Demon's reactions as you ate, you were pleased with how it turned out- the pork was juicy and tender with just the right amount of crust seared into the flesh, the green beans had a crispy garlic taste, and there was not a single lump to be found in your potatoes. Everything was perfect, magazine-worthy just like you relentlessly crafted it to be. So why did the crimson asshole look so fucking unimpressed?!

"How's the food Alastor?", you couldn't take this anymore, you needed to know what he thought. His blank and bored expression snapped your very last nerve; you were tired of being patient and waiting for some inkling of sentimentalization to form on his ever-stoic face. If he wasn't going to volunteer it himself, then you would pry it out of him forcefully. You turned toward him expectantly, effectively putting a pause on all dining table chatter.

The demon stilled momentarily, not expecting your abrupt outburst. He eyed you for a second before speaking "It's fine", and resuming his meal, that unimpressed mask back over his face.

You flinched back as if he had slapped you, your jaw nearly dropping to the table and eyes wide in bewilderment. "Fine? That's it?! This very dish was going to win me a Michelin Star and you say it is just FINE?!!", your voice grew louder as you spoke. This was outrageous, the ultimate insult to you as a chef, the AUDACITY of this cherry-colored prick to sum up what you slaved your entire life away on in just a seven-letter synopsis.

Everyone else was staring at the two of you with wide eyes as you bristled, turning your entire body toward Alastor with a white-knuckled grip on your fork like you were preparing to stab him with it.

Alastor's response to your sudden rage was to calmly place his own fork down and fold his fingers together in front of his chin with his elbows on the edge of the table. He closed his eyes for a second before fixing them on you intently, however, his voice was calm when he finally spoke again.

"That is your problem Dear. Yes, the food is fine- it is very good actually- but you cook for praise, for critics, for awards. In doing so your cooking has fallen flat, it lacks originality, heart, dare I even say soul; in all the meals you have made for us I have yet to taste YOU in your own cooking. You have mastered every physical component of the process, but until you learn how to put yourself on a plate I'm afraid each dish will only ever be good- never transcending into great. I suggest you stop cooking for others and begin cooking for yourself Darling."

You gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you fumbled over your own thoughts before saying the only thing that came clearly to mind, "Fuck you!!", you stood abruptly, desperate for any sort of upper-hand no matter how delusional that upper-hand really was. To his credit Alastor remained calm, looking like a patient parent waiting for their toddler to cease an illogical tantrum, which only served to piss you off more. "Well if you deem my cooking to be so unworthy of the The Radio Demon's stomach," you spit his self-proclaimed name out like it was a dirty word, "then how about you prove why that is? Face off with me in a blind taste test", you gestured to your audience of hotel guests. "If you are so much better than me then prove it- without magic! Compete with me on completely equal standing, just our own skills in this very kitchen", you cross your arms in front of you and glare down at the deer.

Alastor chuckled at you, "Very well Darling. Pray tell, what does the winner of this little competition receive?"

"Whatever they want."

"Hmm...are you sure that is a wager you want to make with me my dear?", his aura turned slightly green and symbols of his magic began to swirl around him as his eyes flashed to radio dials for a brief moment, the static in his voice getting thicker. But you were not going to let him scare you...you had something to prove.

You raised your chin defiantly at him, "Absolutely certain- who knows?- maybe I will own your soul after I win." You let that idea simmer in the air between you two as you grab your plate to wash it, noting with satisfaction how his smile tightened and posture stiffened slightly.

"Well, as the one challenged it is only fair for me to choose our main dish. I will procure two identical venison steaks for us to prepare in whatever way we best know how in the same exact amount of time. The rest of your dish I will leave up to you. Sound fair enough for you?", he extended his hand toward you to solidify your agreement to the terms.

"Fine", you deadpan back to him as you take his hand in your own briefly before wiping it off on your pants- a show of dominance The Radio Demon often used himself.

His eyes narrowed at you, "Lovely!"

You were the first to leave the kitchen, followed closely by Alastor; leaving the stupefied and unwitting judges of your cook-off to gawk at one another.

"The fuck just happen?!", Angel was the first to break the silence, looking between each of the other residents in confusion.

"We just caught in the middle of a ridiculous, egotistical contest between our two cooks!", Vaggie huffed irritably.

"I wish they could just work together on meals instead of against one another", Charlie sighed. Vaggie gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze in agreement.

"Sooo...this mean we get two dinners tomorrow?"

You looked over your work station, recounting each and every ingredient at least 3 times. You and Alastor agreed 4 hours was enough time to make your very best venison dish. You were pulling out all the stops, deciding to make one of the most difficult dishes to execute correctly- a venison wellington made with homemade puff pastry. Making puff pastry itself was a long and tedious process and your timing had to be perfect or else the venison would be either underdone or overcooked. You knew that if you cooked this dish flawlessly you were sure to win.

Alastor created two identical workplaces, you agreed that he was allowed to use his magic so that you could cook at the exact same time but that is it. He sat at his own station with nothing but the meat set out and a coffee in hand. He looked up at you, "Are you ready to begin?"

Oh, you couldn't wait to wipe that stupid grin off his face, "Ready!"

With that Alastor started a countdown on the wall and nodded at you before opening his newspaper, not moving to prepare any ingredients at all.

You, however, were a flurry of activity; setting your flour in a small pile to meticulously wet bit by bit until you formed your dough which you then folded over a dozen times and flattened out. Once that was in the fridge you set out to beat your butter until you formed a neat 4x4 cube. Before you knew it an hour had passed and Alastor had yet to prepare anything. You narrowed your eyes at him, what the hell was he doing?

You had no time to fret over the deer demon, once your butter was cooled into a solid mass again you diligently folded your dough and butter together forming dozens of butter-pastry layers. Once that was finally finished nearly two hours had ticked off the clock. Alastor was finally chopping potatoes, carrots, and onions- taking his sweet time like he wasn't on a time crunch.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself, you were starting to feel a bit cocky considering your dish seemed to be far more complicated. Next, you worked on cutting up your own produce- onion, garlic, and mushrooms. As you mixed your spices together you melted butter in a cast iron skillet, watching as Alastor cubed his own venison. You seared your whole backstrap steak on all sides until a nice crust formed before wrapping the meat in a blend of your spices and minced produce before finishing it by wrapping it all in bacon. Finally, you wrapped the whole thing in your puff pastry before setting it in the oven to cook.

You peeked up at the clock- 30 minutes left. Glancing over at Alastor, you saw him standing over a large pot, stirring it slowly and humming a jazzy tune to himself. Was he making a soup? Did he really think that would be complicated enough to win a cook-off?

When your venison wellington was done cooking the crust was a gorgeous golden color. You cut into it and let out a breath of relief that the meat was a perfect medium rare. Everything was textbook perfection, you were about to hand The Radio Demon his ass, you bit your bottom lip to keep from giggling at your apparent victory.

As you were setting out the plates of food for the other residents- who were strictly forbidden from entering the dining room until you and Alastor had left so they would have no idea who cooked what- Alastor came in with his own dish.

"What kind of soup did you make?", you asked a bit snobbishly.

"This, My Dear, is my favorite venison stew", he replied merrily, obviously pleased with his dish and showing not an ounce of trepidation for his impending defeat.

"Interesting that you think a stew is worthy of a cook-off victory."

He stopped to fully turn towards you, eyeing you up and down with a look of disapproval, "Darling, the complexity of a dish is not the most important aspect. Sometimes the simplest dishes give us the most satisfaction."

His gaze was intense, he was boring right into your very soul as if he was trying to convey a secret message with just the look in his eyes. You look down "Er...yea okay", you feel your face go beet red, you could almost get lost in those eyes if he weren't such a dick.

The two of you go back to the kitchen to clean up your stations after letting the other residents into the dining room to eat and cast their votes for their favorite dish. You didn't speak, just let the sweet melodious notes of Jazz fill the silence. Just as you were drying your last bowl Charlie walked in with a piece of paper in hand.

"It...was unanimous. Just so you know we all really enjoyed both meals and it was REALLY hard to choose between them! And we by NO means prefer one of your cooking over the other! We all hope you both will continue cooking and not let this competition stop you from doing what you love!", she spoke in a rush. She carefully placed the folded paper down on the counter before taking her leave.

You snatched it up before Alastor could make a move for it; you took a look at the verdict and your heart plummeted into your stomach. There was absolutely no way, this had to be a mistake. You looked up at Alastor and it was clear he already knew the outcome based on the small but smug grin on his face. Grabbing a spoon you rushed over to Alastor's pot and took a bite of his stew permission be damned.

FUCK!

It was good, more than good it was downright sinful. The venison melted in your mouth like butter, the spices in the gravy transported you back to Grandma's house- visions of dinners together as a family came to mind as the nostalgic taste danced on your taste buds. The whole dish filled you with a sense of comfort and tranquility, like being wrapped in your favorite blanket by a fireplace with a book in hand on a cold winter's night. He made a dish that evoked literal emotions in the consumer...how were you ever going to compete with someone who could do that with a simple stew? He was right...your cooking was flat by comparison, like biting into basic sirloin compared to a beautiful wagyu porterhouse.

Tears filled your eyes but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry in defeat. You rushed out of the kitchen as fast as you could not having any particular destination in mind, you just had to get out of the kitchen. You doubted you would ever return to it again.

Your tears steadily streamed down your face as you looked over Pentagram City from the hotel balcony. Questions about your identity plagued for mind- what were you supposed to do now? where did you belong? were you a fraud- an imposter- your whole life? should you just leave the hotel? what will Alastor want for his prize?

The sound of static alerted you to his presence behind you, but like a petulant child you kept staring straight ahead refusing to acknowledge him.

"It was my mother's recipe", he leaned over the railing beside you.

You finally looked over at him,"Huh?"

The deer demon chuckled softly, "The stew, it was my mother's recipe. She taught me everything I know about cooking, most of my happiest childhood memories involve my mother teaching me different techniques and dishes. Perhaps that is why I tend to get a bit possessive of the kitchen and meal prep." He smiled brightly down at you, your face flushed again at this unexpected and rare bit of honesty and vulnerability from The Radio Demon.

"Well you can have it back, I'm done cooking", you respond bitterly, your face hardening in disdain as you stare back out at the pentagram again.

"Well now Darling there is no need to be so dramatic! Why I bet all you need is to go back to your roots, remember why you started cooking in the first place! Now, tell me, what was your inspiration?", he leaned his chin in one hand as he waited for your answer.

You scoffed,"Well, I never knew my father and my mother was a drug addict who left my siblings and I to fend for ourselves most of the time. We went to live with my grandmother when I was eight. She did great raising us at first but then she developed dementia; sometimes she would forget to feed herself, let alone the rest of us. So I guess my inspiration to learn how to cook was the need to not let my family starve."you laugh humorlessly. "Grandma would remember bits and pieces here and there, teaching me certain recipes she enjoyed. Turned out I was pretty good at cooking so I checked out every book in the library on the subject, learning everything I could. I entered a tuition giveaway when I was 18 and earned a free ride to culinary school. It changed my life, I was determined not to let the opportunity go to waste. I swore that I would be the best, always taking my recipes to the next level to prove that I earned the positive turn my life took." You viciously wiped the tears from your eyes as they started up again.

Alastor remained silent during your rant, watching you with a contemplative expression. He understood your demand for approval now, the constant need to show your cooking prowess through complex dishes. You had something to prove, but you didn't realize you were trying to impress yourself more than anyone else.

"What do you want from me"?, you angrily whispered at him, glaring over in his direction. You figured he would ask for your soul, you'd be as unpleasant as you could be to him until you were under his ownership.

The deer hummed, "Join me for dinner."

You bellowed out an incredulous laugh, "We do that quite often Alastor. I told you that you could have your kitchen back, I have no intent on encroaching on your domain anymore."

"No, not at the hotel, there's a restaurant I would like to take you to. I hope you don't mind but I have already taken the liberty of purchasing you something to wear- it is a coat and tie establishment after all!", he twirled his cane in his hand, looking at you expectantly.

"Your kidding me right?", you were stunned.

"Nope! I do not believe I am!"

"You...you want to go on a date?"

"Yes, I suppose that is technically what you could call it. Now, how does tomorrow evening sound? I shall inform Charlie that we will be out, there's plenty of leftovers to keep our residents well-fed in our absence. Meet me in the lobby at 6 PM sharp and not a moment later My Dear!" With that he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you to stare at the spot he just vacated in shock.

You have a date with The Radio Demon...boy does the undead life come at you fast.

To be continued...

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #enemies to lovers #slow burn #angst #alastor fluff

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 7 months ago

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So uh...I know the odds of this happening is slim to none, but I figure I'll shoot my shot: the Creator having a little one, who is sporting a small diamond marking on their forehead? (Xiao, it's Xiao as the dad.) And for fun: Venti somehow gets blamed for this! :D

Tsarita: The Yaksha has an Anemo Vision. Of course someone who uses the element of Barbatos would be so forward as to try something with the Creator!

Venti: I DID NOTHING, WHY AM I BEING BLAMED?!

A forever diamond

WC: ~600

Cw: Raiden is alloyist 😔

Imagine if this happened close to cloud retainer and she just side eyes Xiao like "this one is impressed the conqueror of demons has, what the younger generations call, rizz"

Xuezhui’s birthdays are a whole event for liyue, somewhat of an unofficial holiday, people are often given half day or the whole day to roam the streets, different vendors setting stalls with food and trinkets.

A room would get rented in the xinyue salon and the seven stars and the archons would accompany for lunch and a small dessert for the toddler.

As you finish eating and leave Xuezhui on the floor she starts running to a small group of children, zhongli trailing behind her so you could finish your conversation with keqing.

Regal as when he was an archon zhongli stands a few meters away from the little group of children playing tag. Sometimes he can't help but let himself drift in his thoughts, Xuezhui is so similar to Xiao when he rescued him, even when only a handful of people remember that day he can see it as clear as day. Could Xiao have spent his younger life as carefree as this little girl?

Suddenly he is snapped from his daydream by a scream and sobbing.

“What is it, little one?” zhongli leans forward where xuezhui was seated crying, some of her friends surrounding her. He saw her fall while chasing each other but it didn't seem hard enough for her to not keep playing.

“It hurrrttss” her hands clasped on her forehead, tear clouding her eyes.

“Let me see” softly he pries her hands away, expecting to see some flushed skin, maybe a bruise or some blood but it was neither of those, rather it was a small purple diamond “...interesting”

“What happened over here?” Quickly you walk towards them, worried about the soft sniffles and suddenly falling to the floor. She makes grabby hands so you perch her on your hip, smoothing her hair.

“Someone can't refuse her inheritance for too long” he taps between his brows, letting you know. Swiftly you move her bangs, showing a small diamond just under her hairline.

“I thought it was make up”

“it would make sense with his depressive persona but as you already know adepti have no need for vision and merely wear one to comply with human expectations,” he picks something up from the floor, a small golden plate before placing it on the silk in the back of her dress “on the contrary, half adeptus like Ganyu need a vision to canalize elemental energy yet can use adeptal features to hone their abilities”

“I can barely manage her as it's, don't tell me that was a vision”

His hand falls on your shoulder, a stiff smile trying not to laugh at you “I would invest in fire insurance”

Seemingly your defeated face was very visible, even from a few meters away, or you took a fair amount of time, as some archon and Ningguang were approaching you.

“Is anything wrong I could help with?” Ningguang speaks first, wandering what might have happened.

“Xuezhui fell, just a small nick on the forehead” zhongli snickers behind you.

“if she hurt herself I'm sure Dr Baizhu wouldn't mind checking her up quickly” she attempts to check her but you change her to the other side, attempting to hide her mark.

“She is fine, she just got scared and is a bit cuddly”

“oh, what a shame, I wanted to try her beloved almond tofu but if she is so stuck with you we will have to leave it for another occasion”

“Almond tofu! Let's go” she jumps out of your arms and jumps towards Raiden, who notices instantly the soft purple diamond “mmh, what is this?” she swipes her thumb over it but it doesn't smudge, the edges perfectly neat.

“Who does that remind me of?” Venti taps his chin.

“the vigilant yaksha?...” Ningguang mumbles under her breath. She did know he took the role of your bodyguard but never thought your relationship would be so more intimate

“So in the end it WAS your fault…”

“but he is from Liyue! It's Morax’s fault!”

“But he has an anemo vision”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“All anemo vision holders are libertine or lazy”

“Hey! That is alloyism!”

“who would have guessed this would work out nicely for me”

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #genshin x reader #self aware genshin impact #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 9 months ago

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Hello hope ur having an amazing day/afternoon/night

So for the "if you weren't alone" how about the Hunting dogs with a GN reader? Take your time and make sure to take care of yourself

If you were not alone

Part III

Characters: Self-Aware! Hunting Dogs

Reader: Adult! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

_______

🐕‍🦺You were tried. Today, you and Hunting Dogs were having one of your traditional camping trips. Thanks to Teruko's and Fukuchi's training, you have become tougher. Still, you were tried and were thankful, when you finally set up a camp.

After dinner, you go to your tents and fall asleep

You were the last one to woke up. A familiar redhead looked inside the tent. Tachihara looked worried.

"[Y/N], you are awake, good... Listen... My dear Hyacinth... You probably should take a look at that..."

You climbed out of the tent and looked around. Your gaze immediately stopped on the familiar Statue of the Seven, standing on an island in the middle of the lake.

You were in Starfell Valley, on a Cider Lake shore.

The rest of the Hunting Dogs were not only up, but already were in their uniforms. A fire was burning and aromas of porridge and tea were coming from a pot and kettle, that were put above the fire.

"[Y/N], does this place look familiar to you?" Teruko passed a bowl with porridge and a cup full of hot tea to you.

You braced yourself. Explanation will take time.

🐕‍🦺 You tried your best to answer questions about Teyvat. About nations and elements. You answered questions about the game. That nothing strange was happening in your game. No insane luck, no new voice lines, no new menus, no new characters (that weren't announced), no reaction to you talking or petting the screen, no strange emails, no gifts. Genshin Impact looked like absolutely normal game.

After the breakfast was done, Hunting Dogs got the most basic information about Teyvat and were as confused as you were about Teyvat being real.

But you can't get answers just staying in one place. After you collect your belongings (with tent, sleeping bags), Hunting Dogs and you start walking. To Mondstadt.

Just to make sure, that you stayed safe, Fukuchi asked you to walk in the middle of the group, while he was walking before you, Tachihara and Teruko were walking on the sides and Jouno and Tetchou were walking behind you.

Your journey has begun.

🐕‍🦺 Mondstadt greet your group with yelling, Knights of Favonius with their weapons out and a mob who wanted blood.

"HERETIC! IMPOSTER WITH A HERD OF SINFUL CULTISTS!" You didn't know, that Kaeya could yell. Or even use 'heretic' negatively. You could see, how Hunting Dogs slowly drew their swords. In a last attempt to explain yourself and try to resolve the conflict, you carefully put your hand on Fukuchi's arm and stepped before him. Dozens of angry eyes stared at you. You cleared your throat.

"I am not an imposter. My friends aren't cultists! We got lost and just wanted to find a way home... AAA!"

"SILENCE YOUR LIES, CREATURE!"

A small stone hit you on a forehead. The hit was painful, but, thankfully, not strong enough to cause serious damage.

But was strong enough to cause damage to the person, who threw the stone.

🐕‍🦺 You left Mondstadt. With Klee as your guide, you were going to the Dragonspine to find Albedo. And Mondstadt was left with beaten up knights, scared civilians and a new baby, who just an hour ago were an adult, who liked threw stones.

Still, no one in Mondstadt realized, that you weren't an imposter. In their eyes, you became an Imposter with a horde of demons under your command.

After you left, Jean reached to Fatui delegation. Maybe, Harbingers could help to capture you.

Meanwhile, you and Hunting Dogs, together with Albedo, finished planning your next move. You would move from nation to nation, searching for Alice. Albedo promise to keep in touch with her, asking her to either stay as long as she can in one nation, or go to you, if you find a safe place somewhere in Teyvat.

Time to move forward.

🐕‍🦺 After Zhongli's and his adeptis attack on you and Hunting Dogs, you decided to stay away from the city.

Still, the situation wasn't as bad as it can be. You had quite a good number of helpers (you, Jouno and Fukuchi had to make sure, that Tetchou won't try to cook for Xiangling as a 'thank you for help'. You didn't want to get on kind girl's bad side), and, while being accused and hunted was terrible, you had your friends with you.

Right before you decided to move to the next nation, your camp was attacked.

By Fatui.

And by Tartaglia, Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

⚔️ While Teruko and others were protecting you from Fatui solders, Fukuchi was fighting Childe. Fukuchi has to admit, that Childe was a dangerous enemy and a skillful warrior. Fukuchi knew, that he shouldn't underestimate him. And Fukuchi won't underestimate himself either.

Especially, after Childe transformed into a Foul Legacy.

Childe tried to focus on a battle and ignored that tiny quiet voice, that begged him to stop attacking and believe "Impostor's" words. He must destroy the old man and the rest of your horde and capture you.

Childe raised an eyebrow, when the old man picked up a small stone from the ground. Was he desperate enough to start throwing junk? The old man threw the stone. And hot, white pain filled Childe's senses. His left shoulder, where the stone hit him, was burning with pain. The bone shattered, skin was broken. Transformation was cancelled.

Childe, in his human form, was laying on the ground, howling with pain. Behind Fukuchi, the remaining Fatui soldiers finally surrender. They collect their fellow soldiers and Tartaglia and left you alone.

You hopped, that you won't run in other Harbingers.

🐕‍🦺News about Childe's defeat spread through Teyvat. And almost everyone were terrified of your group. Now, instead of 'Sinner' and 'Heretic' you were greeted with 'Begone, Monsters' and 'By the power of Holy Creator, return to the depth of The Abyss you have crawled from!'.

People were now afraid, but, thankfully, Nahida was helping your group. Staying with Aranaras was fun. For some reason, they start adoring Jouno and Fukuchi, and it became a current occurrence, when they were sitting on the ground, discussing something, and Aranaras were climbing all over them.

Unfortunately, harbingers didn't give up yet.

You didn't know about most of the attempts.

You didn't know about Fukuchi fighting with Pierro and winning.

You didn't know about a bird-like mask in Jouno's bag. About Dottore, who was unfortunate enough to ran into Jouno and Arabalika and demand Hunting Dog to give aranara and you to him.

You didn't know about Arlecchino's and Teruko's quarrel that ended in child Arlecchino on a doorstep of House of the Hearth.

You didn't know about Tachihara destroying Sandrone's robot, when she was searching for you.

You didn't know about Tetchou's fight with Capitano. The moment Tetchou got his grip on Capitano's claymore, he got an advantage over the strongest warrior in Teyvat. Because "controlling a blade that was making loops and barrels" wasn't one of Capitano's abilities. Tetchou was victorious.

But four Harbingers still remain. And Cryo Archon was still here.

🐕‍🦺 When you got a letter from Albedo (through Alhaitham) about Alice whereabouts, and Nahida, thanks to her powers, confirmed it, Hunting Dogs and you left Sumeru and start your trip to Snezhnaya through Fontaine's port.

🐕‍🦺 Unfortunately, the delegation was waiting for you in Fontaine. Tsaritsa, healed Childe, Columbina and Pantalone with Fatui troops were waiting for you.

The battle has begun.

Hunting Dogs tried to keep you away from battle. You followed their plan, until you noticed Pantalone, who was aiming a musket at Tetchou, while he was facing another direction.

You acted fast.

You and Pantalone, both gripping one musket, as a small tornado rushed through the battle. Each of you were trying to get the musket solely to yourself. Your fight were good enough destruction, Fatui's troops were jumping away, trying not to get in your and Pantalone's way.

You growl. You hated being in Teyvat. You hated being afraid for Hunting Dogs life. You missed others. You were tired of Fatui's ambush.

You wanted to go home.

The portal opened under your feet.

______

🪢🦀🐁 It's been almost a month since you and Hunting Dogs have disappeared. Everyone was looking for you. While Hunting Dogs would never let anything bad happening to you, there is a chance, that you were separated. And the fact, that there were no trails left, made everyone worried. Fyodor and Dazai weren't sleeping. They were discussing, what to do next. And thinking about the ways to make Katai and Higuichi stop to share their "theories" about your disappearance. Because, if Fyodor heard another "[Y/N] and Hunting Dogs get secretly married and then run away from home to who knows where" from Katai, he will do something drastic to Katai. Same story was with Dazai and Higuichi's "They built a bunker under the forest and hid there from aliens, I know for sure!".

Suddenly, they have heard the loud crash coming from the barn.

🐕‍🦺 Sounds were loud enough to wake everyone up. When everyone got to the barn, they saw a bizarre situation.

You were trying to take away a strange gun from a rich-looking guy, while Hunting Dogs tried to get you away from each other.

🐕‍🦺 Pantalone, startled by the appearance of other people, lose his grip. You immediately pull the musket from his grip and hit Pantalone on the head with the butt of a musket. Pantalone, unconscious, fall on the ground. Only then you realized, that you were back.

🐕‍🦺 It would take time to explain everything to others. One thing for sure. You were very grateful, that you and Hunting Dogs were together. You had a feeling, that the Teyvat journey would be much worse, if you were alone.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #sagau impostor au #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #imposter au #Self-Aware Fukuchi Ouchi #Self-Aware Teruko Okura #Self-Aware Michizou Tachihara #Self-Aware Saigiku Jouno #Self-Aware Tetchou Suehiro

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circeyoru · 9 months ago

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I imagine what would happen and what it would do for the reader to finally say "I love you" to Alastor (Maybe with a kissing scene, I don't know, it's up to you!) .. Like what scenario could this happen? And what would our yandere react?

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

Another wholesome one!!! AHhhh

I think you guys are gonna love this one

If you guys read all my writings for {Unwanted Soul} and I'm including the asks too since I treat them as trivia now, you'll know Reader/you are not one to declare directly about your love. The most you did was admit to yourself and tell Alastor you missed him before your slumber. For good reason.

(since there's yet to be a request for part 5 or story ideas, this might be a spoiler or reused for future writing but with more details. you are warned)

Now, what would it take for you to directly confess? There MUST be a trigger. Something that pushes you to the edge that you can't keep it to yourself. A previous ask already got the kissing part, you were not shy to show your affection to Alastor. It's the admitting and people's acknowledgement that makes you not establish a relationship.

So what would push you? Be that trigger? There's already 2 people that did that. Mimzy and Adam. What they both have in common is the way they treated Alastor. One was using Alastor for their own benefit and the other was going to take Alastor away from you. You're not on Alastor's level, but you having accept your feelings now won't stand by and let others take Alastor away from you.

The trigger needs a build-up, so there's a repeated element. Adam's dead, so that's a no. Mimzy isn't, so she's the one. Okay, Alastor has no idea that you went to have Mimzy a silent warning (firing a shot at her), he only knows you know Mimzy and her actions, since you never expressed your dislike of Mimzy to Alastor. You heard from Husk what type of demon Mimzy was and he was happy to provide.

What happened was Mimzy came to the hotel again, asking for Alastor. You stayed back watching while Husk asked why, she claims that she wanted to apologise to Alastor for her actions. Charlie being the kind soul she is, let Mimzy stay and wait till Alastor came back. You were just about to leave for your room, wanting to tell Alastor to delay his return or just not go through the hotel lobby.

"Hey, you're a new face!"

You didn't even need to turn around and Mimzy was already standing in front of you. You had a hand on a notebook was was strapped to the side of your hip, something like where one would put their swords or guns, then your quill was in your inner chest pocket. Everyone else in the lobby felt the tense aura around you, everyone except Mimzy who continued to babble on and on.

You got annoyed standing around and sat down, Mimzy following suit. If you were ever in doubt of why you hated interactions, yeah, she's the perfect example. You didn't even listen to what she was talking about, shutting her off. Everyone saw and noticed, it was off that you were humoring Mimzy when you could have left, but you didn't. Then they recalled that Mimzy was looking for Alastor, so they figured you stayed around to see the exchange between the two.

"Actually, this cutie here's always got smile's attention. He's like a puppy!" Angel added mid-conversation.

"Wow, you fell for him of all people? I mean, I wouldn't blame yeah, but he's not worth it!" Mimzy laughed. "Never will he even care about a little weak soul like you!"

When Husk saw the way your face scrunched up in disgust, he warned Mimzy to shut it. Naturally, she snaps back at Husk and says she's talking to you. Charlie comes over to defend Husk and you, telling Mimzy to back down. But she continues, laughed and sang how evil and cruel Alastor was to cut your chances. To you, it was so weird that while Alastor saw Mimzy as a friend, she didn't. That was too close to home for you. Way too close.

"Shut your annoying mouth!" You declared, standing up. Your outburst got everyone staring at you and Mimzy to shut up. "What do you know? You use Alastor's name to get what you want. You use your friendship with him to get what you want. What's wrong with you? In Hell, you're supposed to treasure what you have. Not abuse it."

"Wow, so you're one of those. So righteous, so good." Mimzy taunted back with a smirk. "It's because we're in Hell that we should use everything to our advantage." She got in your face as she poked at you, "You're very defensive of ol' Alastor. What, did ya actually fall for him?"

Without missing a beat, you spoke so clearly and firmly, "I love Alastor."

"What was that?"

"I said," Just for a moment, your eyes closed with a blink and you turned to the voice on impulsive, a glare prepared to direct at the demon, "I love you."

Your own gasp and shocked overshadowed everyone elses. Alastor. When did he come back? Your mind replayed what happened and you froze, you immediately teleported away with your pages and disappeared from the lobby.

Alastor's shock and joy were cut short when he heard Mimzy's laughter, sarcastically lamenting for your 'heartbreak'. His demonic form came out so naturally and his shadows swallowed Mimzy whole. No time to waste. He went to you and found you in your pile of pillows covered by your blanket.

He sat by your bed and placed his hand over your head, "Darling, I can forget I heard it." He's lying, he'll remember it. You defending him, you caring for him, and you declaring your love for him. In some sense, Mimzy was useful. But for you, he'll say he won't care. "You don't have to take the role or any responsibility."

Alastor almost didn't react fast enough when he was pinned to the bed post by you, a kiss on the lips made him all the more excited and downbad for you and your affection. His eyes droopy as he reached for you, that determined look on your face and that beating heart.

"No. Remember it and never betray my love. Alastor."

It's his now.

"Of course, My Love."

All his.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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thelampisaflashlight · 4 months ago

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The ghouls, but I revamped my headcanons about them, because why not? Let's go.

-Aether, Dewdrop, and Mountain were brought into the church around the same time, but Dew arrived first, making him the "eldest" of the three ghouls... while also, coincidentally, being just slightly older than both Aether and Mountain in actual age as well.

Of the three of them, Mountain is the peacekeeper, Aether, much to the shock of many, is the troublemaker (he enjoys picking fights with people who are being jerks), and Dew is the thinker.

-Cumulus and Cirrus were summoned around the same time Swiss was brought into the pack. Having been raised on the surface by his mortal father, Swiss didn't really have much of a connection to his demonic side until he found the church, but even then, he had a lot of trouble adapting to life there.

Thankfully, both of the ghoulettes were more than happy to take him under their wing and teach him all the fun parts of being a ghoul.

He looks up to them in the same way one might look up to an older sibling, and he treats them both with respect as both his mentors and his friends.

-Rain was summoned during a rare thunder snowstorm towards the end of winter, which resulted in him developing an odd ability to control electricity. Usually, lightning is seen as a fire/air based element and can only really be harnessed by multi-elemental ghouls, like Swiss or Aurora, but Rain is, in so far as he knows, pure water.

He mostly uses this ability to hunt fish in the lake, charge his phone or laptop, or as the occasional self defense mechanism, because why would he throw a punch when he can effectively taser someone with his fingers?

-Dew, like Swiss, was born and raised on the surface, and grew up leading a normal, human existence until he fell to his death while lost in the woods surrounding the abbey during a thunderstorm.

His death lead to him landing himself in Limbo, where he was given a second chance at life (at a cost, of course) and learned of his demonic inheritance.

Unlike Swiss, who found comfort in discovering his ghoul side, Dew felt deeply conflicted by it and did not immediately join the church, though he was allowed to stay largely because Terzo saw promise in his abilities (musically and magically) and encouraged him to stay.

-Aeon goes by both Phantom and Aeon, but it depends on who he's talking to/who is addressing him, kind of like how you might go by your middle name with friends, but your parents call you by your first name.

For things like ministry paperwork and meetings with important figures, he's called Aeon, but amongst the pack, he's largely called Phantom or Tom-Tom as a nickname.

However, the name Aeon is also used by ghouls that are considered his "seniors", such as Aether and Omega who held his station before him, and Dew, because he refuses to call him Tom-Tom (and because he's old, but don't let anyone hear you say that).

-Cumulus is one of the only ghouls that maintains a home away from the abbey during the off season, and, as of right now, none of the other ghouls have been invited to stay there. It's nothing against any of them personally, Cumulus just likes having her own space that's truly hers, and she spends so much time around the others normally that she needs a break from them sometimes.

-Similarly, Dew has a habit of "wandering off", though he's usually just off on vacation, and, when in doubt, can typically be found simply by asking where he is.

Usually, he's not far from the abbey, as he tends to keep to his "territory" like a cat left to roam, but on the rare occasion he's broken containment (left the country entirely) he's like a ghost.

And lastly;

-Cirrus has been known to hang out in one of the many cemetery plots on the abbey's grounds, and has befriended an alarming number of spirits, who often tell her secrets and information about people who currently live on the grounds or passed there in some form or another.

Because of this, Cirrus knows things that could be devastating if revealed, so she has to be careful about not letting slip information that wasn't given to her by either the individual themselves and/or is already "common knowledge".

She's on incredibly bad terms with some of the abbey's residents as a result of letting slip personal details about their lives, even if she meant to use it as a means of defending them, and it has made it difficult for her to make friends outside of her packmates, which in turn results in her befriending more inhuman entities and ghosts.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons

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bigbrownboots · 5 days ago

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so ever since the quizzes came out and we finally got confirmation on what the hell it is that all the other contra-elementals can do, i’ve been obsessed with the confirmation that.. Lasko is canonically super fucking powerful as a magic user, and specifically as an air elemental. here’s why: (possible tw: mention of asphyxiation as it occurs across the storyline and the Imperium briefly)

in the first video where contras are really brought up - Audio RP | Catching Up and Hanging Out With Your Himbo Friend [M4A] - Huxley uses fire elementals and fire-contras as his main example for how elementals and contras compare: he talks about how fire elementals are great at producing heat, but it takes far more effort for them to be able to take it in, and even when they do, they cannot take in much. that’s something that fire-contras are much better equipped to do, since that’s their specialty.

we already know that specialists will always be the most capable when it comes to performing their specific branch of magic, and for everyone else, that’s something they have to train and build to over time.

Lasko is an air elemental. air elementals are great at controlling air, and again, producing gusts, hurricanes, flurries of wind and such. it is specifically air-contras that specialise in taking large amounts of air in, and thus creating vacuums.

do you see where i’m going with this?

we know from what Lasko revealed about his past that, even completely untrained, he was able to completely take in all the air in a room - which he and his mother were standing in, so, presumably it was one of the main rooms in his childhood home, not just a tiny storage space or a cupboard under the stairs - Lasko managed to take out all the air in that entire room, creating a vacuum strong enough that his mother could not breathe in.

and we know that this wasn’t a one-time fluke due to his powers manifesting, because he’s still capable of performing this ability, seemingly without substancial effort. in his very first audio - Audio RP | Nervous Air Elemental Guidance Councillor Schedules Your Classes [M4A] - Lasko mentions that he “should’ve just negated all the air in the room to douse the flames” when Damien set his papers on fire, but this time decided not to, since he “can’t just suffocate him” (referring to Damien).

also, if we want to bring the Imperium storyline into this, (which i understand that technically, President Moore is a different character, but let’s say that theoretically they would be at similar power-levels - since the only way to improve your magic is by training it, and both characters started from the same parentally-established-magically-restrictive-humanborn place, and spent presumably the same amount of time at the academy) President Moore is able to take all of the air out of a room and create a vacuum able to asphyxiate a person even “through a wall,” “just as simply” (holy fuck). and, in addition to this, Vindemiator blatantly says “you’re strong, Lasko” as he’s pinning him. he has no reason to lie or to inflate (ha ha) Moore’s ego, in fact, Vindemiator is very open with how much he despises Moore, so i’m inclined to believe the powerful demon when he admits to Moore’s magical control.

but, even without considering the Imperium, i think it’s definitely something to think about. even just as an air elemental, Lasko is able to wield air-contra magic like it’s just a part of his natural skillset. Lasko Moore is a fucking powerful magic user.

- i would like to point out now that it’s entirely possible that Mr Redacted didn’t have everything fleshed out from the beginning, and that Lasko’s ability to take in air could have originally been just a part of air elementals’ capabilities, (and then with the inclusion of contras, things got divided and changed) but i think it’s fun to believe and theorise regardless.

in conclusion: holy fuck, Lasky

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted lore #redacted lasko #redacted imperium #tw asphyxiation #just to be safe #lasko moore #holy fuck #lore rambles #i fucking love magic systems

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devourable · 1 year ago

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☹ the alt kids

sfw | tags : poly!nb!yans x gn reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), obsessive thoughts, slight manipulation, mentions of drinking

listen,,, i know melchior / nb demon yan beat these three in the poll but im itching to write about them. this goes out to my friend who wants to get piped by faust + lolita anon. love yall mmmmwah

also for reference, faust is they/he, delta is they/them, and anton is he/she/they !

please rb to support me 🫶

the alt kids were notorious for seeking out club newbies to play with. it was just something they did.

there was just something so adorable about the way someone totally out of their element dipping their toes into their scene! and the three had made it clear that fresh meat was off limits to anyone but them.

it was a simple cycle — someone new would enter the club, they'd swoop in and show them a good time, take them home at the end of the night if they're lucky, and repeat.

they thought it'd be no different when you came along, but...

oh, how wrong they were.

see, faust could practically feel the inexperience dripping off of you the moment you entered the nightclub.

all on your own, your eyes wide as you took in the flashing lights and loud music, the way you cautiously stepped around the sea of dancing bodies in attempt to find some place you could fit in comfortably? definitely another cute little freshie that'd soon join their ranks.

but faust didn't account for the zip of heat that ran through his body when you and him locked eyes from across the club. he didn't expect the unfamiliar feeling of his heart racing, a feeling only comparable to how he felt when he saw his partners — but why was it so much stronger? and when you offered up a shy little smile and averted your gaze, it damn near knocked him back.

who were you?

they had no clue, but they knew one thing. they needed to leave this club with you at the end of the night.

so faust all but ran to your side, appearing by you before you had even noticed their approach. god, you were even cuter up close... the way you looked up at them made their heart want to leap from their chest!

but they kept their cool. faust introduced themself, commenting on how they noticed you from across the bar and how they couldn't just let a sightly little thing like you venture around all on your own. the club could be so intimidating for newcomers — dangerous, even! but you didn't have a thing to worry about with them by your side.

they loved how demure you were, how you held your heating face when he complimented you, how you tried to wave off their advances but seemed to enjoy it just a bit too much to wave them off. were you intimidated by them? or… did you like them back? they wish they knew!

so you joined them, and accompanied them to the bar.

it was there you met one of their partners — a startlingly tall, reserved goth. you saw him well before you even got to the bar! between the major size difference, her icy gaze, and seemingly disinterested demeanor, it was safe to say you were intimidated. so you were incredibly surprised when faust strutted right up to them, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and waved you over to meet her. and it surprised you even further when they took one of your hands in theirs, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and introduced themself after studying you silently.

unbeknownst to you and faust, anton was feeling that same intense fire in his chest that faust got when they first looked at you. he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over your attire as you gave your name in turn.

you were so small compared to him. as was most other people, but… it was strangely endearing when he looked down at you. it’d be so easy to just scoop you up, wouldn’t it? and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. he kept those thoughts to himself, but they flickered across his mind every time you came enough for him to take in the difference in your sizes.

the pair bought you drinks, got you a nice seat and showered you in attention. chatting you up, complimenting you, practically treating you like you were part of their polycule already. though they never mentioned it, faust and anton knew they had the same feelings towards you. the intense desire to just… have you. and not just for the night, either. you were so much more than all of their previous flings.

then delta came along. petite, sly delta who liked to play coy when it came to those they were interested in. they had pretended to be too busy dancing the entire time before joining their partners and you at the bar, but they were watching. and after witnessing how their boyfriends were all over you for so long, they had to join in. what were you doing to them?

they walked up to the three of you, pointedly looked you up and down, and… they understood in an instant. man, you were a looker! and even sweeter than the usual folk the three would usually play around with. they easily invited themself to the conversation, taking a seat right on faust’s lap and stuck up a chat with you as if they had been there the entire time.

they loved how flustered you were, so overwhelmed by all the attention the three were now pouring onto you. and despite your overstimulation, you were trying so hard to talk to them all anyway. you clearly had no clue what to do, poor thing… they had no choice but to take the lead for you!

“wanna dance? ..no? that’s fine~ let’s get another drink!”

“it’s so loud in here. let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah? i wanna hear that pretty voice more clearly.”

“aww, you wanna leave? you can sober up at our place! it’d be dumb if you got a ticket you could’a avoided.”

“you’ll stay the night with us, won’t you, darling? we’d hate for you to leave us so soon.”

#🕷️ the alt kids #yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #nonbinary yandere #nb yandere #trans yandere #yandere girl #lovesick | ocs #yandere #yancore

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nephilejon · 2 months ago

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a list of my rin okumura headcanons 💙

(in no particular order) (also there are spoilers)

ok smart fellas and fart smellas i have so many headcanons that i have finally decided to share today. this isnt gonna be like romantic stuff cause thats an oversaturated market. most of these headcanons are gonna about rin's life and stuff that i feel hasnt really been expanded upon :3

on that note, i love this man so much so here we go

-rin isn't used to his body after he first awakens. for the first few weeks, his tail causes him to have trouble balancing. at first, he finds that tucking it around his torso helps him find balance, but it becomes really uncomfortable after a while. basically the same feeling as one's back being hunched over for a long time, since his tail is connected to his spine. as he grows more comfortable with himself, he finds his center of balance and feels a lot better to have his tail free.

-as well as struggling with his new tail, rin constantly (and accidentally) bites his lips with his much sharper teeth. ouch

-rin's body temperature is slightly above average. he doesnt have to wear thick clothing during winter because he's already warm enough. when touched, his skin has a similar warmth to a hot cup of tea <3 or a pumpkin spice latte

-when he has leftovers he doesnt microwave them, instead he breathes a little bit of fire, just enough to heat the food up

-each time his hair turns white, his black hair ever so slightly gains white strands. when he notices it for the first time, he's insecure of it and plucks any white strands he sees. eventually it becomes too much so he starts dying his hair black.

- (this one is basically canon but whatever) rin's second awakening causes him to have 2 split personalities. like its not even demon related, he just straight up has a personality disorder now. after kurikara first breaks and he almost hurts his friends, and his big fight with yukio, he is constantly worried that his other self will come out at any time.

-hes embarrassed by his horns and doesnt like that theyre so small (go big or go home right?)

-if he practices, he can control any demonic element, like how satan fought everyone during the main fight.

-he has a strong relationship with the spirit element, due to being related to an azazel clone. he also has an affinity for time and space, as shown when he rips open the space where mephisto hid his heart

-he really loves making indian food and curries

-big fan of shonen jump, reads bleach, one piece, and tegami bachi

-pretends he doesnt, but he likes romance manga. favorites include: kamisama kiss inuyasha, blue flag, and many others

-thought his confession to shiemi would be like a romance manga

-he doesnt like wearing shoes

-since fully awakening, his body doesn't age. he will outlive his friends as well as yukio.

-he likes fishing

aaaand thats about it FOR NOWWWW! i have some other headcanons tucked away that i'll save for another post and ill also come up with some more. hope y'all like them 🦅✨

#rin okumura #blue exorcist #aoex #ao no exorcist #rin okumura headcanons #blue exorcist headcanons

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prose-for-hire · 1 year ago

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High Stakes

Pairing: Spike x witch!reader (gn)

Request: I was wondering about maybe one where spike and reader are in a relationship like a really healthy one and he is completely in love them but the scooby gang ask them to do some really big draining spell because they are more powerful witch then willow and like reader starts to panic once leaving the magic box with spike and he is super concerned and like they start to have a panic attack and he immediately starts calming them down and looking after them and it’s just really fluffy and angsty.

Requested by: @witchb1tches

Warning: Reader has a panic attack. Crying.

There was a storm brewing. The sky was dark but only you could feel it. You were at one with the elements. A powerful sorcerer who had unfathomable power. As you waled briskly through the streets, your hands laced with Spike’s, you tried to push down your anxieties and focus on the feeling of his hand in yours.

You and Spike had been together for years. He adored you with ever fibre of his being and you matched his love in every way. It was a love that others only dreamed of. You had met at a demon bar one evening and in attempting to impress you, Spike had picked a fight with half of the bar. When he got in trouble and they all tried to jump him at once, you stood up raised your hand, making the entire crowd slam into the back wall of the bar as if shoved by an invisible force.

Spike had just stared, mouth wide open as you winked and left him in the bar, saying your goodbyes. Although you didn’t agree with love at first sight, the ground started humming and the breeze that whistled through your ears on the way home telling you that you had met the one. You waited though, to see if he would make the first move. To test if it really was fate.

You had run into each other several times after that and after getting over the fact that you were friends with the Slayer, he built up the courage to ask you on an actual date. He had even brought flowers that looked suspiciously like they had been swiped from a nearby grave. He had been rather bashful and it had been incredibly endearing, you only understood later on why he was so nervous of rejection.

You had been laying in bed when you got the SOS message from Xander. Some big evil this or some creepy spell that. You knew you had to come as fast as you could and your vampire insisted he was only coming to try and score a nip of blood, but you knew him better than that.

“Don’t know why they think you’re at their every bleedin’ beck and call” Spike had been sulking the entire way there, his unlit cigarette bobbing from his mouth as he spoke. He mostly did it to see you smile, he was very fond of your smile. He did this, especially when he sensed that you were feeling tense about something.

“Spike, it’s the end of the world, we can’t just hold each other and wait for it to get us”

“If it was the end of the world, we’d be doin’ more than cuddlin’. That I can tell you, pet” he pointed at you, his cigarette between his fingers as a curl of smoke escaped his smirk. You rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully as you walked.

“I have power, it would be wrong not to do something to help”

“No, what’s wrong is callin’ up a vampire in the middle of the afternoon while he’s trying to sleep! Apocalypses are ten-to-the-bloody-dozen ‘round here, we could have finished our nap and still caught the next one, I wager”

“That may be true, but-” You started to defend your younger friends and Giles, but that was when you sensed it. The coming storm had distracted you but now you saw it. The Magic Box was ablaze, green fire licked the building and what looked like a tornado inside the store fanned the flames.

You ran straight into the fire, with Spike trying to pull you back. You shot him a meaningful look, your intentions sending your thoughts and reasons into his own head. He nodded, understanding, the fire was magically suspended, something (probably Willow and Tara) was working against the damage.

When you both arrived, Spike had a hand firmly on your waist, he knew that in this sort of fight, you were the one that was doing the protecting. He was man enough to admit that. But it didn’t stop him wanting to ensure that you were by his side. Safe from harm’s way.

The scene was pure chaos, and not in a nice, neat, easy-to-calm way. You had ceased many of those for your friends before. This one was different. An invisible tornado had whipped up around the store, the noise was so loud it was near impossible to hear yourself think. Anya was trying to hold down anything valuable from getting more broken while Giles and Willow were screaming incantations over the din.

“No bloody way” Spike muttered, taking you hand and trying to lead you out again. There was no sodding, buggering, bloody way that you two were getting involved in this one. The slayer and her little friends could fry for all he cared. Just so long as it didn’t involve you.

Buffy was trying to fight the air around her, with Xander on back up, as some force kept attacking the two that were trying to reduce the amount of fire that threatened to consume them.

That was when you saw it. In the centre of the room, the eye of the tornado.

“Th-that book…” You said softly. You knew that book, you could feel the ancient power rolling off it. Humans couldn’t touch that book unless they were powerful enough to withstand it’s hold on their souls.

And seemingly, Tara had touched it. She was suspended in the corner of the room, eyes black and her hair to match. She was a good witch, but not powerful enough to withstand something like that. You weren’t even sure that you were.

How had they found it? Why was it here?

No wonder the world was ending. One chapter, no one sentence even, from that book spoken aloud by someone that didn’t know what to do with it and the whole fabric of this dimension, and many others, would tear and scatter until it was no more.

That book was supposed to be suspended in a hell dimension and, you later found out, Willow had received it as a Birthday gift from an unnamed admirer.

“Y/n, we need to do this, now!” Buffy shouted over the noise. It was a lot worse than you had expected. Time was speeding up, lives were in danger and the whole thing seemed to be resting on you. You wavered, the others couldn’t see it over all the chaos. But he could. Your Spike. Your protector. He was the only thing that could ground you.

“Piss off, would you! You saw what happened to them last time” Spike stepped up to the Slayer menacingly, his leather duster whipping around him in the artificial wind. He cared about you, deeply, none of your friends could deny it. He was worried about you, doing so many spells for them he thought they took it for granted that you could just bounce back and be fine. He told them as much whilst simultaneously throwing a few punches at this invisible being that was trying to fight the room.

You were stood there, seemingly daydreaming as you stood still as the mayhem raged around you, just staring at the book.

“Y/n, the stakes are high, are you, ah, able to do this?” Giles asked, pausing from chanting as he realised that you were now using your own power to hold off the fire.

“We don’t use that word in our house, stakes that is. What with the whole burning at the stake bit” Spike cut in, throwing a punch and overbalancing when it didn’t connect with anything. He managed to style it out, rolling and landing back onto his feet.

“And the dusty vampire thing” You agreed distractedly, pressing your lips against his as he got up from the floor beside you.

“Yes, yes, well? Are you able to do it?” Giles was growing impatient with the man that was always so close by your side. Both Giles and you knew what you had to do. It was something that no other could do. If you didn’t do this, Buffy would never be able to get the upper hand. You may all perish in an instant.

“I can stop time, isolating it so that Buffy can still move will, uh, take a lot… But, luckily for you I am blessed with a lot of power” You insisted, feeling their resolves falter slightly. Buffy had never faced anything like this before. The Hellmouth opening was nothing compared to complete obliteration of dimensions.

The way your power works, you would be pushing against time whilst also pulling Buffy into the present with you. Shifting more than yourself was known to be near-impossible when stopping time. You had done it once before but it had taken a lot out of you.

Spike stayed stood by your side in all of this, only fending off anything that came towards you now. You nodded at him gently, he was always in awe of you, but more so every day.

It was a lot of pressure and the responsibility was crushing. But you persevered, Spike nodding by your side, giving his unending support without even having to say a word. You took a breath, closed your eyes and raised your arms, chanting rapidly.

You did it. When you opened your eyes time had stopped, your love frozen by your side.

Buffy nodded at you, able to move as you held the very threads of time together. It was already taking a toll on your body. It was like you were hanging over the edge of the universe, grip so tight that your knuckles whitened, grimace on your face as you tried to stop everything from tipping into nothingness.

You stopped time long enough for Buffy to decloak the invisible force, the Slayer was already weakened from the earlier fight but managed to kill the demon that had emerged from the book. It bled profusely, spraying the floor with an orange goo.

“Don’t- not on the book!” You screamed, if any demon blood got on that book literally anything could happen. But none of it good.

With one final flourish, Buffy managed to slay the demon and take its weapon, a long staff that had been invisible until now that was needed to return Tara back to them.

While you were watching her, you were hurting, aching all over, you couldn’t hold it any longer. While Buffy finished, you had a spinning wheel of dimensions in your mind and you dropped the book into nearest Hell dimension, hoping it could hold it.

You dropped to the floor as the book disappeared, the wind stopped and everything went silent. Tara was back to herself after a ceremonial wave of the staff, now propped up in a corner by Willow as everyone else skidded towards them. A battered Buffy included.

“You okay?” Spike asked it quietly, as you got to your feet, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention from the group. You nodded once but he wasn’t convinced. He knew you inside out and he took your hand tenderly as he spoke.

“Yeah, I-” You started but the look he gave you told you that he knew. He could sense it. You weren’t doing okay.

“I, uh, I just need some air” You said, grappling with yourself to get out of the magic shop, your hand no longer clasping Spike’s. He was on your heels, throwing a glare behind him at your friends as he went.

The others called their thanks to you as you left, while Xander tended to Buffy’s battle wounds. Your friends all loved you but they didn’t understand certain things about you. You were known as being a little odd, you went missing for periods of time and you frequently shied away from praise or gratitude. But they were fond of you all the same.

You were overwhelmed. Drained and scared you hadn’t done the right thing. What if that book was summoned in another dimension and you could do nothing to stop it? What if you had killed thousands of others by only saving the dimension you lived in?What if it came back and a different chapter opened, one where you couldn’t fight it?

Once outside, the storm had started. The thunder cracked through the air as your heart hammered through your chest. Your chest writhed in pain, as if several hands were scratching at you from within, trying to claw their way out of you. You couldn’t take a full breath, your breathing quickly shallowed, as if something was wringing out your lungs.

It had been creeping up on you ever since you had started the spell, but it had just crashed on top of you like a ton of bricks. You slid down the wall you had been leaning against, clutching your heart and fighting for breath. You were panicking.

“You’re okay, love, ‘m right here with you” Spike knew immediately what it was, crouching down beside you the ghost of his touch hovering over your shoulder as it erratically rose and fell.

“I- I can’t-” You stammered, lightning violently cracking through the air as you spoke.

“You’re okay, love.” he soothed, taking big unneeded breaths of his own to give you something to focus on. You tried to speak but he shook your head, you needed to focus on your breathing, “Breathe, Y/n, that’s right.”

He continued to breathe with you, your fingers numbing and your chest feeling like it was caving in. You felt like you needed to reach inside and stop it somehow but you could summon no amount of power or magic to stop it. This made it worse, you couldn’t control it. You couldn’t stop it and the storm raged on, worse this time as the thunder came from within.

“You’re safe, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anythin’ nasty get you, just take your time” He knelt before you, so that he was all that you could see.

As you slowly managed to regulate your breathing, you stayed sat in the same position as before. Rain started to fall as your tears broke, rolling down your face as the rain pelted down from the sky. You reached for him and he held you, arms wrapping around you as raindrops rolled down his cheeks.

You both stayed, crouched on the floor with the rain hammering down and soaking you both as he pressed the most tender kisses. First against your forehead, then your temple and finally a gentle peck against your lips.

Eventually, Spike moved, only to remove his leather duster to drape it around your shoulders. You hadn’t brought a jacket despite his insistence back in your shared crypt. He didn’t feel the weather and even if he did he would have done the same. Just as he knew you would for him.

“Sorry about…”

“Don’t you ever apologise. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, you got nothin’ to be sorry for. I meant it, I always mean it. I’m here for every part of you” The look in his eyes told you that he meant every word. There was no reason for you to ever feel embarrassed, especially not around him. You would never be a burden, nor an inconvenience.

“Thanks” you murmured, but the look he gave you told you that him being here for you was not something he needed to be thanked for, he loved you after all. He was by your side always.

“Let’s get you home, love, catch your death out here” he joked, a watery smile on your face as you pulled his jacket around you. He encouraged you to lean against him as you walked, his arm firmly around your shoulders, the weather clearing if only slightly as you went.

#spike x reader #spike x you #spike btvs #spike btvs x reader #spike imagine #spike btvs imagine #btvs #btvs x you #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagine #witch reader #gender neutral #gn #magic

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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I HAVE A IDEA SCOTT PILGRIM SUBNAUTICA CROSSOVER

Can I request Matthew panel accidentally finding something or managing somehow randomly to summon like Y/n who’s a Sea emperor or a Ghost leviathan headcanons? ((Ofc they’re like his demon lady friends like corporal)) this huge unknown sea creature floats before him,kinda swimming in the air majestically and they stare down at him..but turn out to be a gentle yet firm giant and become his friend,they let him brag and stuff but will step in when needed lol

Anon you just put my two current fixations into one and ily forever for that /p

Also I feel like a Ghost would suit him better

.........

Honest to god, Matthew had no idea how he managed to summon you.

He was just reading up on demonology and how to do stronger summoning spells...

And suddenly you were floating right in front of him: a giant blue bioluminescent sea monster--a species of leviathan class known for their aggressive disposition.

You're the only hybrid of your kind, but it makes no difference. You still have quite the territorial temperament.

But since this human somehow called upon you from Planet 4546B when you've done nothing but swim in the endless void for thousands of years...you kinda like this change of scenery.

So you forego any hostilities, instead following him wherever he may go.

It felt strange being out of the water, but you got used to it quickly.

Despite your colossal size you can easily phase through surfaces and make yourself disappear if need be.

You exist more as an intimidator than a monster who eats divers.

The demon hipster chicks aren't all that crazy about you (not just bc your element is water and theirs is fire, but also bc you were getting more attention from their master now), although they'll work alongside you if you gotta protect him.

Anytime Matthew rolls up to a LO7EE meeting, he likes showing you off and saying "this is [y/n] and they're gonna totally crush Ramona's crush".

Meanwhile everyone else is fucking horrified bc where the hell did the "first boss" get such a powerful beast as a weapon????

If Gideon ever says anything to insinuate experimenting on you or keeping you for himself, Matthew's ready to throw hands IMMEDIATELY.

He doesn't get very far though as you often intervene, assuring them all that you're nobody's trophy or weapon.

But you ARE his voice of reason, however.

The demon chicks certainly aren't.

#clanask #anonymous #scott pilgrim x reader #subnautica x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #matthew patel #matthew patel x reader #ghost leviathan #monster reader #headcanons #platonic

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allyallyorange · 1 year ago

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Round 2 of my Ateez Adventure Time AU is here!

Yunho and Jongho are from “Universe Z”, which has no magic and is basically just our world. They are cousins and have a 10 year age gap, in Jongho’s eyes, Yunho is the coolest person ever. In this world, Yunho had his own Mingi, who was his best friend until they were in their last year of high school and Mingi was a victim in a big car accident (also involving Jongho’s parents). Afterwards Yunho didn’t end up going to school and becomes a mechanic. Yunho has a hard time being around Jongho because the kid is so smart and Yunho's parents Love him. Jongho seems to be doing so well and Yunho knows that his parents think that he should also be moving on. Years later, when Yunho is 22 and taking his 12 year old cousin to the library for him to study and do homework, Yunho is reading through some old looking fantasy type book. Suddenly the book lights up and a portal opens up. A guy with pointy ears appears in the portal and Yunho is pulled through.

Jongho, who was 13 when his cousin disappeared, had a bad time. He became obsessed with trying to find him, and spent the next 10 years studying the book he disappeared through, as well as anything else that came up along the way. Over the years he finds that the relics that are talked about in the book are actually real, and then he works to become an antiquarian in order to further study the artifacts. Eventually, he manages to collect 9 gems needed to power the book Yunho had disappeared through, and he is able to travel to “Universe A”. Jongho is now 22, but only a year has passed within Universe A, making Yunho 23/24. When spawning in Universe A, Jongho is not automatically anywhere near Yunho, but he does eventually find a sketchy looking cave, which upon further inspection is the place where Mingi has been frozen in crystal for the past 600 years. Jongho accidentally frees Mingi from his prison, and they slowly become friends, Hongjoong joining them to become a little team (Seonghwa will also join this team at some point).

Wooyoung is a born wizard, about 900 years post-apocalypse era. He specializes in nature related magic. He grew up in a very safe but slightly boring town, practicing spells and fooling around. On a particularly boring day when he’s about 15 years old, Wooyoung decided to browse the forbidden section of the spell books and found a book on dark magic. Wooyoung, being an admittedly just ok wizard, figured he wouldn’t actually be able to successfully pull off any of the spells in the book, and decided to secretly borrow the book back home. He found an interesting spell on summoning a familiar, thinking maybe he’d at least get a cat or something if he did manage to succeed. Instead- for whatever reason- he summoned a full demon, not in the form of a cat or bird or toad or anything, named San.

(UPDATE: Wooyoung has a hobby of building things out of scrap metal, inventing little robots and such. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing most of the time but he sure does make things!)

San is an ice demon created by The Demon King about 800 years post-apocalypse era, who had been hearing about his younger brother’s little fire friend above, and wanted to make his own element creature. Thus San was born (made already physically aged about 14 years old because why would the king want an actual baby). San was a bit of a disappointment for The Demon King, because for whatever reason San was incapable of being evil, so he ended up being basically scrapped for about 100 years. Being a low ranking demon, and also a rather disposable one, when someone above suddenly summoned for a familiar, the demons pretty randomly chose to send San. This exchange also bound Wooyoung to dark magic, allowing him to cast permanent curses. San and Wooyoung end up getting along great, and decide they want to explore beyond Wooyoung’s home town (both around 15 years old physically). They live outdoors, camping in the wild and going on adventures while stopping to help anybody on their way (getting lots of rewards!). After about a year they find an abandoned treehouse which they decide to move into, and they become the local heroes! (Discovering Wooyoung’s ability to curse things was wild. They accidentally cursed some guy to be a tree for all of eternity. No take backs)

8 years later, San starts having visions full of fire and seeing a man with white hair possibly being able to help (his visions are very confusing so he’s not sure). Woosan begin a new mission to try and understand what San’s visions mean, and eventually Wooyoung will figure out how to build a portal that will allow them access to the cosmic dimension, where they will be able to ask for one wish. San goes, and is asks to find the guy with blonde hair who can help stop the fire in his visions. Because wish making is tricky business and San wasn’t clear on the description of this blonde guy, he is given Yunho, who is not the guy in San’s visions (it’s Seonghwa). Wooyoung and San don’t know how to send Yunho back so he ends up having to stay with them. Luckily they all get along and they become a little team. At some point Yeosang will also join this team after being separated from Seonghwa.

Ok that’s it for now! I’m gonna draw more though still because I have so many ideas man

#doodle doo #ateez #jeong yunho #yunho #choi jongho #jongho #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #choi san #ateez san #kang yeosang #yeosang #Ateez AT AU

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astro-nomaly · 9 days ago

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Sword and Shield (greenflower)

jfc i feel insane. i had to get this au out of my head so i wrote this first draft thing in two days anyways this is probably all i'll write at least for a while bc i don't have an actual set storyline and i really need to write tkal lmao. this is technically 2 chapters but whatever they made sense together

anyways @morroodle this is for you dude and uh sorry if this crashes anyone's browser. no cw for this

Brad Tudabone is 17 years old – almost 18 (if ‘in seven months’ counts as ‘almost’) - and is currently climbing the tallest mountain in Ninjago.

Now, the Realm has its fair share of mountains. The Golden Peaks of the West (the existence of which is not confirmed) in the Endless Sea are supposed to be taller than the sea is deep. Less impressively, the Shintaro Mountain range in the Southern Province stretches dozens of miles high, and the Caves of Despair are the most treacherous peaks in the world. But Brad is conquering something a little more difficult - the Mountains of Impossible Height.

Honestly, the name was an exaggeration. It was, at best, the Mountains of Incredibly Dangerous Do Not Attempt for Fear of Death. Brad had only almost died, like, five times. And his arm was probably fractured, but whatever.

He huddled against the cave wall, wincing as the sharp edges dug into the thin fabric of his shirt. Dammit, he should’ve brought a coat. He scowled at his fraying boots, one cold toe poking through. Should’ve brought better boots, too. Who knew climbing the world’s tallest mountain was such hard work?

Brad was taking shelter in a small cave carved into the side of the Mountain of Impossible Height, which was a mouthful, waiting for the rain to pass. This high up, a light shower could kill him. He was already freezing.

Brad shuffled a little closer to the small fire he had going, huffing into his hands. Next time, he would bring gloves that covered his fingers. Man, fingerless gloves looked so cool though! Though, it’s not like anyone else he knew wore them.

To pass the time as he warmed up, Brad pulled an ancient scroll from his bag of assorted supplies, most of which he needed more of. Climbing mountains sucked.

The scroll was fraying, yellow and browning around the edges. The thing was only a few decades old, but hadn’t been preserved well. Brad had found it only a month or two ago while poking around a half-destroyed museum, courtesy of the Oni army.

Ugh. Brad hated the Oni. They’d shown up, what, fifty years ago? So far, the army had been kept at bay by the holders of the Golden Weapons - weapons people didn’t know even existed - and Wu, the son of the First Spinjitzu Master – supposedly. No one knew if the god was real or not, but the dragon demigod of creation pointed to ‘yes’. The army had come out of a strange portal from the First Realm, a place no one was sure even existed before the arrival of the four-armed demons. They were led by yet another legendary figure; Garmadon, the Oni demigod of destruction and the first son of the FSM.

There was a running theme here. Fifty years ago, several ancient legends were confirmed to be true as magic and elements were thrust into their realm. So, Brad felt confident about this legend as well.

The Sword of Sanctuary. The scroll Brad scavenged from the museum rubble illustrated a lustrous golden sword surrounded by elegant text. The sword was, supposedly, the legendary weapon of the FSM himself, and super powerful to boot.

It made sense, didn’t it? If demigods of creation and destruction were real, and other realms were real, and the elemental Golden Weapons then didn’t it stand to reason that the guy who made those weapons and fathered those demigods existed? If the FSM was real, then the sword was too, and that meant it could be useful.

Everyone Brad reported his theory to – his overworked mom, his friends, the cops – laughed in his face. After fifty years of war that went almost nowhere, no matter how many dragons showed up to help, people were tired and low on hope. Every day the Oni army got closer to capturing the capital city, and if they did, they’d have easy access to the other four provinces. People needed practical solutions, not fairytales.

But Brad knew that this wasn’t a fairytale. The sword was real, he just knew it. Was it a little presumptuous to assume that he could use it? Maybe. Brad was a normal guy – he played basketball, he gardened, and he was self-taught in using any kind of weapon. He didn’t know a single martial arts form, and his go-to for winning fights was the kick the other guy in the crotch and run. (Which, by the way, totally worked.) But even if Brad himself couldn’t use the sword, couldn’t someone else? One of the elemental masters, or even Wu? It didn’t matter who had the sword - if Brad found it, he could find someone to use it and win the fight.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the sword, though. Brad hated feeling so useless all the time. His mom worked day and night to keep their apartment and put food on the table, half of which Brad grew in their own house. All his friends were either enlisted or contributing to society somehow. But Brad... didn’t really want to be in the army. Sure, fighting demons sounded cool, but he wanted adventure, not barracks and boot camp.

If Brad found the Sword of Sanctuary, not only could the humans win the war, but Brad would be a hero.

Besides, how cool would a magic sword be? Brad’s thinking lasers.

He traced the thin letters around the illustration. He should, if the scroll isn’t lying to him, find some sort of temple at the top of the mountain, and the sword inside. Just like the last few days on this mountain, the scroll strengthened his resolve. He wasn’t just doing it for the adventure – though, if Ninjago weren’t in such dire straits, he would probably still do this – he was also doing it for Ninjago. For his mom, for Gene, who worked all the time trying to develop better technologies, and for all the citizens of Ninjago City who wanted just one good day.

He tucked the scroll back into his bag, careful to make sure it wouldn’t crease or tear, and settled on his side. The rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Might as well sleep.

Brad dreams of Green. Not green, like the color, but Green. It’s life, it’s beauty, it’s the forest floor dappled in sunlight and the tall field grass swaying in a gentle breeze. It’s the shine of a bright grin and the adrenaline of a race. The Green is everywhere, all-consuming and shining like a star. Sheer gold peeks through the cracks, brighter than the sun itself.

It’s crying.

“Let me out,” the Green and Gold begs. The words don’t exist. They’re a compilation of feelings, hopes and dreams and everything else the universe can’t quantify. It’s like Brad has been granted a window into the soul of the realm itself, only to find that it was looking back.

The words come in a melody, sweet and bright and lulling him to an even deeper sleep despite the sheer desperation leaking through.

“LET ME OUT!” The Green and Gold screams, but Brad can only dip further into sleep.

For the rest of the night, he dreams of darkness.

Brad hates mountains. He’s been on this damned mountain for five days, ran out of food two days and has been random fruit since, and has no idea where he is. He briefly entertains the thought of dying up here before shaking it from his mind. He knows he’s getting closer – this mountain can’t get too much taller, can it?

He shivers, clutching his arms as he stalks up the natural pathway. It’s overgrown and treacherous, but he’s lucky nonetheless that a path exists at all. It only supports his mission – at some point, people were here.

“’Course, they probably had coats,” he muttered. He’s been talking to himself lately, which isn’t ideal, but whatever.

He cut through a particularly nasty bramble patch in his way with his katana. It was an old, chipped thing, supposedly belonging to his father at some point. He didn’t have any attachment to the guy; he died before Brad was born. Still, a sword was a sword.

Not as cool as the Sword of Sanctuary, though.

Surprisingly, though, today seems to be a good day for Brad. For the past five days, the mountain had only gotten more and more treacherous, trying its best to kill him at every turn. He’s had to dodge wolves, evil birds, navigate horrendously narrow pathways and climb vertical cliff faces. Nothing so far has been easy – except now. The path levels out, the jagged rocks become smooth-

Water.

Brad laughs in disbelief. There’s a river! Oh, he’s missed water. He bends at the bank, scooping water in his mouth. It’s cold as it slides down his throat, and he drinks greedily.

He wipes his mouth, sated, and takes another second to look around. The mountain is starting to level out, and greenery fills the area. The trees are lusher than they have any right to be, bearing fruit that definitely isn’t in season. It’s warmer now, too, which is weird so high up. The ground is crawling with bright green vines, flowering in shades of unnatural gold.

“...huh,” he says. The Mountain of Impossible Height has been inhospitable to a fault so far. Why is it suddenly so nice? A refreshing river, fruit-bearing trees, smooth pathways?

“Either something is horrifically wrong or terrifically right,” Brad said, adjusting the strap of his bag as he stood. He followed the path, holding his katana cautiously. But nothing came out at him. Birds literally sang in the treetops, a few does bound through the increasingly thick trees, hell, a butterfly literally landed on his nose at one point. It was as if he’d crossed a threshold.

Brad soon came to an actual pathway, made up of cobblestone overgrown with moss. He followed the winding road, growing more and more excited as lamps began to dress the grass along the path.

Then- a monastery.

Brad gaped at the sight. A large red Torii gate stood before him, and further down the path, a grand monastery. It was gated by a tall solid stone fence, overgrown with flowering vines and moss. Brad whooped, running along the path until he reached the entrance, throwing the double doors open with a laugh.

He came into a courtyard with a golden dragon statue in the middle. If he wasn’t sure of this place before, he was now. This had to be it. The home of the Sword of Sanctuary.

He stepped forward carefully, looking around the courtyard. It was wholly abandoned and overgrown in greenery. It was beautiful, yes, but eerie as well. Like a school at midnight, or a graveyard at night. Otherworldly.

“Hello?” He called, just to be safe. He didn’t want to upset a possible deity or something.

Nothing. He shrugged and poked around on the wrap-around porch. He slid open the doors inside and recoiled at the smell of dust. Yeah, this place hadn’t been touched for a while.

He stepped inside, feeling as though he’d come into another realm entirely. Yeah, this had ‘school at midnight’ vibes. The halls were dark, lit only by the fading sunlight that shown through the aged walls and grimy windows. Every step he took made the floorboards creak and groan.

He followed the hall, humming nervously. He poked his head in every door he came across but just found abandoned bedrooms and bathrooms. There was a large kitchen, a couch and TV – weird – and a small armory. He made his way around the entire monastery, and didn’t find anything of note.

He sighed, flopping down on the couch. Dust rose up around him, settling on the disturbed surface.

“Think, Tudabone,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, pulled back by a red bandana. There had to be something here that would lead him to the sword.

“A basement!” He exclaimed, smacking his forehead. Of course! Who would leave a mega-powerful legendary sword laying around for anyone to nab? There had to be a hidden room or basement or-

“Or not,” he said, staring at the ceiling. Outside, he’d made note of the way the roof accommodated what seemed to be two extra rooms stacked on each other above the entrance doors, featuring round windows.

He vaguely recalled a faint light coming from the very top window, what he’d assumed to be sunlight.

Well, he’s looked everywhere else.

Brad quickly ran back outside, looking up at the extra two stories, rising into a tower. The sun was going down now, but the golden light remained in the uppermost window. He grinned and looked for a way to get up to it. The stone around the double gates was crumbling, revealing convenient footholds.

He crossed the courtyard, hauling himself up the wall until he stood on the narrow shingles, balancing carefully. He slowly put one foot in front of the other, making his way over to the wider part of the roof. When he did, he scrambled over the roof to the second story, holding the red column that supported the roof.

Brad stretched on his toes, trying to grasp the edge of the second story’s slanted roof. He was a tall guy, but damn! When he finally got his fingers over the edge, he jumped the extra few inches to grab on with his other hand. Brad breathed heavily, swaying lightly from the roof. He grunted as he pulled himself up, using the shingles as leverage until he could awkwardly kneel on the second story roof. The third story was small, and the window was too grimy to see through. But up close, he could definitely tell that the golden light was emitting from this room.

He fumbled with the round window, searching for a latch. The latch was on the inside, but a little jiggling got the run-down window to slowly creak open. Brad tumbled through, landing on his knees and cutting up his palm with splinters. He hissed, drawing his hand to his chest.

Inside the room, he felt warmth as golden light bathed his body. He looked up just for his breath to catch in his throat with a gasp.

The Sword of Sanctuary.

Brad didn’t need to reference the scroll to know that this was the sword. It gleamed in the sunset, emitting a soft golden light from its spotless blade. The blade seemed to be painted with every color of the waning and rising sun, thrumming with light. Warmth emanated from it, bathing the room in honey. The hilt curved inward elegantly, and in the middle rested a magnificent green gem. Brad couldn’t tell if it was emerald – it seemed too ethereal to come from the earth.

The sword was held downward by a statue. The statue was a simple androgynous person with intricately carved feathered wings draping their body like a chiton, and a crown resting upon their brow. Otherwise, they were bare. Their eyes were closed, and their expression seemed to leak with sadness as they clutched the sword by the hilt.

Brad stepped forward, enraptured by the sight of the sword. The green gem, originally inactive, pulsed and light up with light like it had sensed him. Brad stopped, holding his breath. The gem simply continued to glow.

“Right, right,” Brad whispered, strangely short of breath, “watch out for boobytraps.” He looked around for tripwires or plates but found nothing. The walls were decorated with woven tapestries of the Golden Weapons, and behind the statue on either side were an Oni and a dragon. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Okay. No boobytraps – maybe it was a test of character? He’d seen books like that.

“Hey... sword,” he said, feeling a little dumb, “I’m not going to use you for, like, evil. I’m here to save people, so please don’t kill me.”

He left his katana and satchel on the floor, slowly walking toward the statue. The green gem, somehow demanding more attention than the ethereal blade, thrummed in time with his footsteps, glowing brighter as he got closer. He hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.

Brad hesitated, reaching for the sword. His hand curled, hesitant, before he used both hands to grab the sword by the curling hilt. The second he laid hands on it, the sword lit up even brighter, shining brighter than the sun.

Brad shut his eyes against the onslaught of light, grunting, but didn’t let go. The sword was hot, now, but it wasn’t painful. It was like a melty cookie, or a space heater – warm, comforting, soft.

He squinted, and tugged. The statue’s hands held the sword tightly. Brad braced his feet, trying to adjust for more leverage. “Come on,” he said, tugging again. “Please,” he whispered, “I need you.”

With each increasingly hard tug, the sword somehow became brighter and brighter. It was audibly humming now, filling the air with a strangely familiar melody. The smell of flowers filled the air, wafting in the dusty room. Wind ruffled the tapestries as Brad pulled at the sword harder and harder.

He grit his teeth, tightened his hold, and pulled as hard as he possibly could.

The stone hands around the sword cracked and fell, releasing the sword. With one final burst of light, the sword fell forward, and Brad toppled from the momentum of his pull.

He stumbled back, breathing heavily, as the sword dimmed, slowly ceasing the thrumming and humming. The wind died down, and the scent of flowers settled with the dust.

Brad stared down at the sword, its blade gleaming like new, breathless. He laughed, little bursts falling from his mouth. “I did it,” he whispered, disbelieving, “I did it! I got the sword!”

The winged statue crumbled to pieces. Brad flinched, jumping back, as the stone fell away in chunks. “Ooh,” he winced, “that’s... that’s not a great sign.”

He waited for something else to happen, but nothing did.

“...huh. Okay." He looked down at the sword. “You're not going to disintegrate me, right? We’re chill?” The sword did not respond.

He grinned, readjusting his grip to hold the actual handle. He noticed, belatedly, that the pommel is a second, smaller green gem encased in gold. He holds the sword up high, tilting it back and forth to catch the fading light.

“Heh,” he laughs, swinging it in a slow arc through the air. He hears an audible swish, and laughs again. He feels so cool! Him, regular old Brad Tudabone, wielding the legendary Sword of Sanctuary with ease! He even feels stronger for it, like he could sprint a hundred miles or punch straight through a mountain. “This is so cool,” he says, cutting another arc through the air. He twirls the sword, taking it the way the light creates a kaleidoscope.

Brad wonders what the sword can really do. Does it shoot lasers? Is it telekinetic, somehow? Or- ooh, he saw an anime where the sword duplicated itself once, that would epic. He traces the blade reverently, imagining everything the sword could possibly accomplish against the Oni. He notices soft green vines, thin and fragile, curling up from the golden hilt against the sunset blade. He smiles.

“I bet someone was real lucky to have this,” he thinks aloud, “you’re going to help so many people, y’know. Ugh, I wish you could talk. I want to know everything.”

As if he’s said some kind of code word, the blade begins to shudder. Brad makes a startled noise, holding the sword at arm's length. The green gem begins to glow brighter than ever, thrumming violently. The blade itself warps, the previously soft hues becoming eye-scorching shades of burning violets and yellows. Brad feels nauseous just looking at it, but he can’t seem to let go.

“No, no, no-” he gasps, arms shaking from the strain as the sword grows more violent by the second, “please, stop, no, no, no-” he begs, but the sword isn’t listening anymore. It’s gone from elegant and soft to nauseating as colors blend into each other. The hilt itself begins to warp, curling inward as the metal melts into itself. Glowing cracks emanate from the green gem as bright, scorching cracks appear in the sword. Brad gasps, frantically shaking the sword as if he can make it stop.

Then light like a flashbang overtakes the entire room, blinding Brad, and he falls on his butt.

Brad comes to slowly, still blinking rainbow spots out of his eyes. He’s pinned to the floor by something on his stomach and legs, and quickly realizes that the weight is moving. He rubs his eyes, propping his upper half up.

There is a person on his lap.

Brad gapes, once again speechless. By now, the moon is up, framing the person in a halo of cold light that only accentuates the sheer warmth leaking off of them. They have long golden hair that curls down to their shoulders, fluffy and soft and shining. A light gold and green diadem rests on their head, secured in their thick hair. They’re dressed in a white, sleeveless sort of shirt, ruffled and flowing at the end. The top folds over their shoulders, lined in green and tiny little emerald gemstones. Their legs are covered by a long white cloth that’s secured by another silky material with a gold chain. Their legs are otherwise bare and freckled. Their skin is a soft tan, golden in the moonlight.

They’re really, really cute. And they’re on Brad’s lap.

Okay Tudabone, don’t mess this up.

The person groans softly, face twitching. Their eyelashes are as golden as their hair, and underneath their eyes are soft golden markings, curly and elegant. He can respect the color scheme.

Brad watches as their eyes flutter open, confused and dazed. Their irises are a beautiful emerald green, shining in every shade Brad can think of. Their pupils are shaped like miniature twinkling stars, again golden. Golden pupils – strange. As they slowly adjust, making confused noises, their pointed ears twitch rapidly.

That’s really cute, Brad thinks, face hot.

They seem to realize that they’re sitting on Brad, and stare up at him with giant green doe eyes. Brad’s face gets even hotter the longer they make eye contact.

“...hi,” they whisper softly. Their voice is oddly familiar, like a melody he’s heard before.

He swallows thickly. “Hi,” he responds softly, not willing to break the strange spell over the room.

The blonde looks around, and they don’t seem to recognize their surroundings. “Wh- who- where-” they mutter, and Brad starts to get concerned. He holds them by the arms gently, trying to corral them up off of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks. The person nods vaguely, slowly wobbling to their feet. Brad notices that their feet are bare with a grimace. They could easily cut their skin on splinters.

They stare down at their own freckled hands, inspecting their skin. Now that Brad’s had a few seconds to get his bearings, he’s getting really freaked out. Ten seconds ago, he was holding the Sword of Sanctuary when it suddenly began warping and glowing. Now there’s a blonde person dressed in oddly ancient-looking clothes, acting as if they've never seen their own hands before.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks again, because he might be freaked out, but this person is obviously not okay. They hum, twisting around to look at him with those giant green eyes. They’re practically glowing in the moonlight.

“Where are we?" They ask. Brad blinks, surprised.

“The- the Mountain of Impossible Height. Seriously, are you feeling alright? You seem confused.”

They touch their forehead, eyes shutting like they’ve encountered a sudden headache. It draws Brad’s attention to the strange golden tattoo imprinted on their forehead like a little tiara.

“How- who are you?” They demand.

“Brad,” he answers gently. “Look, I don’t mean to push, but twenty seconds ago I was holding a magic sword. Now you’re here. Where did you come from?”

“A sword?” They’re suddenly staring at him with intensity. “What do you know about the sword?”

Brad holds his hands up, trying to calm them. “Hey, I just found it here. It freaked out and boom, here you are. I’m just as confused as you. Here, look.” Brad scooped his bag off the floor, brandishing the worn scroll to the stranger. “Look, this is what I was looking for.”

They snatch the scroll, eyes raking over it. “...does anyone else know about this?”

“No, no one else believed me. Why? Really, you just came out of no... where...” Brad trails off slowly. The sword was golden, inlaid with green gemstones that seemed to come from the stars themselves.

This person speaks with a melodious voice, just as soft and ethereal as the sword. They’re dressed in white, yes, but marked with golden tattoos. Their eyes are such a pure, glittering green that Brad can’t stand to look at them for too long.

His eyes inadvertently lock onto their chest. Two sparkling green gemstones are imbedded in their skin, softly thrumming.

“You’re the sword,” he says dumbly.

They stiffen, eyes wild like a deer in headlights. The two stare at one another, frozen. The blonde – the Sword of Sanctuary who is a person – goes from a terrified stare to a glare. “What do you know about this?” They demand, waving the scroll at Brad. “Why did you come looking for me?”

“I just found it!” Brad defended, “I was looking for the sword- for you because you’re supposed to be really powerful! Look, you belonged to the First Master, right?”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” they snarled. Brad nodded.

“Okay, okay. But still, you’re all about justice and whatnot, right? Look, there’s this huge Oni army, and they’re hurting people. I came looking for you because you were supposed to help.”

“Oni army?” They ask, their gaze intense.

Brad nodded. “Yeah, and they’re close to taking over Ninjago City. Can’t you do anything?”

They hum, tapping the parchment. “How long has it been?”

“What?”

“How long has the army been in Ninjago?”

“Oh,” Brad hummed, “about... fifty years, give or take. It’s been a while.”

Their eyes grow huge, pupils shrinking. “Fifty years?!” They cry, their harsh grip creasing the scroll. Brad nodded, confused. They clutch at their hair, breaths suddenly coming in sharp gasps. “It’s been fifty years?!” They whisper to themself.

Brad steps forward, but they recoil as if he’d threatened them with a knife. “Don’t touch me!” They shriek. Brad freezes as they shake in place. Tears begin to grow in their eyes, and their shoulders fall as their face crumples.

“Fifty years...” they mumble, holding their face in their hand.

“Have... have you been in that sword this entire time?” Brad asks incredulously. “Why?”

They shake their head. “I didn’t have a choice,” they mumble miserably, shoulders shaking.

Brad makes an affronted noise. “Somebody did that to you? Why?! Did you do something evil?”

“No, I’m not evil!”

“Then I’ll punch them in the face,” Brad decided, punching his fist into his palm and looking around like the culprit would suddenly appear.

They let out a startled laugh through tears. “Y-you definitely can’t do that,” they say, wiping their eyes. Brad scoffs.

“Yeah? Why not?”

“He’d probably kill you,” they mutter. Their expression crumbles all over again, misery etching their face. “Fifty years...” they mumble, sniffling. “And nobody came for me. Not my uncle... not my brothers and sister... nobody except you.”

Brad grimaced. “...I do my best?”

They make a sound between a laugh and a sob. “I-I’m sorry. Brad, right? You probably want an explanation.”

He shakes his head, reaching out tentatively. When they don’t freak out again, he rests his hand on their arm. “It’s okay,” he says, “you’re upset. You don’t have to explain anything. Actually, I can just fuck off if I’m stressing you out-”

They shake their head, wiping away any lingering tears. “It’s okay. You came all this way.”

“Well... okay,” Brad pulls them to the floor so they can sit down. He lets go of their arm once he’s sure they’re not going to topple over. “So, how are you a sword? Or, I guess, how is a sword a person. Which came first, the person or the sword?”

They shake their head, mixed between amusement and that ever-present misery. “It’s not like that,” they say, “I wasn’t always a sword. I used to be a person.”

“Oh,” Brad says, “so someone turned you into a sword. But if the sword belonged to that Spinjitzu guy, shouldn’t you be... older?”

“Nice to know I look young,” they joke. “But yeah, I’m only sixteen. I wasn’t turned into a sword so much as I was fused with it. Like a curse, kind of.”

Brad nodded. So, this person, whoever they were, was fused with the FSM’s sword? Why the hell would anyone do that just to leave them in some dusty monastery? “Well, if you’re a person first, what’s your name?” Brad asks, tired of not knowing. They blink, surprised, like they hadn’t conceived that Brad would care to ask for a name.

“...Lloyd Garmadon.”

Brad gaped. “Garmadon? As in Emperor Garmadon?!”

Lloyd made a face. “Is that what he’s calling himself? Ugh, my dad is cringy. Yes, I’m the son of Garmadon. He’s... actually the one that fused me with the sword.”

“His own son? That’s- really fucked up,” Brad didn’t even know how to react. Who does that to their own kid? Was it some sort of twisted immortal being punishment? What could Lloyd have possibly done?

Lloyd drew his knees up to his chest, resting his head in the soft white fabric of his tunic. “It’s complicated,” he mumbled, picking at the fine golden threads lining his clothes. “My dad was banished to the First Realm when I was four after he tried to steal the Golden Weapons. I grew up with my uncle and his students, the elemental masters. I became the Green Ninja when I was fourteen, and Garmadon returned when I was sixteen.”

“You were a ninja? What’s your element?” Brad leaned forward.

Lloyd smiled wistfully. “The Green element.”

“What... what is that.”

He laughed, and Brad blushed at the sound. “I can’t explain it to you. The words don’t exist in a language mortals can comprehend. The closest thing is... energy. The energy within everything.”

“Wow,” Brad breathed, “it must’ve been epic.”

“It was,” Lloyd agreed, “it was incredible.”

Brad hummed, picking at the floor. “If you were so powerful, though, how did Garmadon... swordify? Is that the term? How’d he swordify you?”

Lloyd’s face spasmed in a mix of embarrassment and regret. “It was my fault,” he mumbled, eyes downcast, “Uncle Wu didn’t want me to fight him. He wanted me kept far away from Garmadon. But after months of no progress, I... I confronted him. I thought I could get him to listen. Instead, he put me in a sword.”

“But... how?”

“I was stupid,” Lloyd said, “I refused to fight him. I let myself get tricked, and he... it doesn’t matter,” Lloyd fiercely wiped at his face, erasing any sign of tears before they could appear. “M-my uncle saved me, that’s the point. He stole me back, and changed the curse. Uncle Wu made sure that nobody could use the Green Element, and so long as I’m here, I have free will.”

Brad’s face screwed up, confused. “Free will? What does that mean?”

Lloyd’s expression spasmed again, and he stared at the floor, eyebrows furrowed. “I- okay. My father turned me into a sword to use my element. When he did, he stripped away my free will. Basically, whoever picks me up as a sword becomes my wielder, and they control whether I’m human. I physically can’t disobey them.”

Brad struggled to wrap his head around it. “Like... Ella Enchanted?”

“Excuse me?”

“That movie! The girl has to obey everyone, and can’t say no. Like, the stepsisters-”

Lloyd let out a dry laugh, sniffling. “Actually, yes. Except only my wielder controls me, and they turn me into a sword. I can’t switch by myself.”

Brad snapped his fingers, “hey, doesn’t that mean that your uncle was your last wielder? Why’d he leave you like this? What a dick.”

Lloyd shook with laughter. “Good question. Maybe he wanted to protect me, or make sure I didn’t run away again. Not that I could. If I get too far away from a wielder, I just turn back into a sword.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Lloyd bit his lip and nodded. Brad scoffed. “I’m going to punch Garmadon in the face.”

“Good luck with that,” Lloyd said, smoothing out the creases in his tunic. “I, for one, would love to punch my father.”

Lloyd’s words gave Brad a sudden idea, and he shot to his feet, pacing back and forth. Lloyd watched him from the floor, somewhat wary, but Brad was too caught up in his head.

“That’s it,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair, “wait, that’s it!”

“What is? Punching Garmadon? I’m all for it, but-”

“No- well, yes, but no,” Brad turned back to Lloyd, who’s head was tilted to the side in confusion. Brad blushed briefly at the sight, before shaking it away. “Lloyd, I’m your new wielder, right? I picked you up, I think I made you human-”

“It doesn’t work in here,” Lloyd snapped defensively, crossing his arms over himself protectively. “You can’t order me around in the monastery, and I’ll kick your ass if you try.”

“No!” Brad waved his hands, “No, I wouldn’t do that! I mean, if I’m your wielder, and someone can only control you if they pick you up as a sword, what if I just never turn you into a sword? Loophole!”

“For what?” Lloyd asked, exasperated. Brad grinned.

“If no one – especially Garmadon – can ever steal you, then you’re free to use your element without anyone controlling you! I get that you can’t get too far away from me – so we’ll stick together. I’ll take you to Ninjago City, and you’ll kick Garmadon’s ass with your epic element! I can cheer you on in the background, it’ll be great!”

Lloyd’s eyes grew big as his face went straight back to miserable. “I- I can’t.” He hugged his legs to his chest, looking at anything but Brad as if he was ashamed. Brad deflated, staring down at him.

“But... why? You’re a ninja, aren’t you? Isn’t fighting evil emperors your whole thing?”

“No, I can’t use my element,” Lloyd corrected in a small voice. “My element was sealed away in the sword. And since Uncle Wu made it so that nobody could use my element, that means that the Green Element is gone. Nobody, not even me, can use it anymore. I can’t even do Spinjitzu.”

Brad’s shoulders fell as his excitement flew out of him. “...oh. Well, that sucks.”

Brad sat back down across from Lloyd, who was curled into himself as if he could hide in the white swathes of clothing. Brad felt kind of silly, now. Like, no duh! Why would an evil warlord leave his prisoner’s power unchained?

Lloyd sniffled. “I’m sorry, Brad,” he said quietly. “I wish I could help. But I- I can’t leave and let people use me. I can’t just give up my body so people can swing me around and kill people with me. I just...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Brad said, scooting closer to Lloyd. He laid a hand on Lloyd’s freckled shoulder, and froze when Lloyd fell into him, leaning on his side. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around the demigod, letting Lloyd leach off of his warmth. Lloyd himself was warm to the touch, and Brad’s skin reflected the glow, ever so faint.

Brad sighed. He was fucked, wasn’t he? Well, at least this wasn’t for nothing. He looked down at Lloyd, and let a smile cross his face. At least Lloyd wouldn’t have to be trapped inside of that sword forever.

“We might still win anyways,” he mused aloud, mostly just to fill the silence, “I mean, dragons show up all the time to help out, and we still have the Golden Weapons. We’ll be fine.”

Lloyd hummed, tracing the wood of the floor idly. “Still... I hate to let you down.”

“No let down here! I came here for a sword and found a friend. Uh... are we friends?”

Lloyd turned his face up to smile at Brad, green eyes crinkling. The tattoo on his forehead glowed briefly, like Lloyd’s smile couldn’t be contained to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said, “we’re friends.”

Brad’s face grew hot, and he coughed, looking away before he spontaneously combusted. Lloyd didn’t seem to notice, and drew himself up, dusting off his tunic.

“Hey, I know I’ve been kind of disappointing-”

“Not at all!” Brad jumped to his feet, and immediately felt stupid for yelling. Lloyd froze, eyes wide, before he laughed, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“Anyways. Stay for a while? It’s lonely up here.”

Brad hesitated. He’d left his mom, who was surely wondering where the hell he was, and Gene was probably worried as well. But looking at Lloyd’s hopeful expression, he couldn’t say no.

“Sure. You have a garden?”

Lloyd’s bright golden smile made it all worth it.

Lloyd led him through the monastery, introducing him to a bedroom that once belonged to Cole Brookstone, the Master of Earth. Brad was astounded to learn how long Elemental Masters truly lived – the same ones Lloyd grew up with over 60 years ago were still kicking, wiping Oni ass.

“Sorry for the mess,” Lloyd said, gathering the dusty comforter up, “ugh, I hope the washer still works.”

Brad chuckled, shaking dust off of the pillows. “We’ve got some cleaning ahead of us. I can start on laundry.”

Lloyd seemed surprised at the offer, before his eyes crinkled in a smile as the little gemstones imbedded in his chest glowed, twinkling like happy little stars. Brad couldn’t help the pink that spread across his cheeks. Man, if Lloyd continued smiling at him like that, Brad thinks he would do anything for him.

Oh wow, he was whipped. Gene was going to make so much fun of him.

That is, essentially, how Brad spends the next several days. He and Lloyd unearth ancient cleaning supplies and do their best tackling the dust and grime settled over the monastery. Lloyd, surprisingly adept with technology, tackles the appliances and power while Brad curb stomps the overgrown garden into submission. They both spend hours in the sun and crisp breeze cleaning the courtyard, and every night they do dishes together.

Just two weeks ago, Brad was adrift. He didn’t know what he wanted from life – just that he wanted more. Now he spends his days in a monastery on the world’s tallest mountain with the oddest boy he’s ever met, and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

Lloyd is funny. He’s wry, and sharp, and through his hesitance is cheeky humor that Brad can’t help but find endlessly endearing, even when it’s used to dump buckets of water over his head.

Somehow, Lloyd Garmadon has made this one of the best weeks of his life.

Even if he has to leave soon.

Brad splayed over a sofa in the library, idly flicking through scrolls and books. Lloyd was in the courtyard practicing katas and what Brad thinks might be Spinjitzu – minus the magic tornado.

His thoughts are all over the place. On the one hand, he has to go. His mom and Gene will be worried, and he hates worrying them. On the other, all Brad wants is an adventure. Lloyd is quickly becoming a close friend, despite them not really sharing that much about themselves. Brad is just so easily drawn to him – or maybe that’s his raging ‘cute boy’ radar.

He groaned, staring at the ceiling. If he left, he’d be doing more than leaving behind a close friend – he'd be leaving Lloyd all alone. In fifty years, Brad was the only person to come up here. Who would Lloyd talk to about Starfarer, or beat in Mario Kart, or do the dishes with? He’d be up on this tall mountain all alone.

He wished there was a way to give Lloyd freedom. He saw the way the demigod looked at into the distance sometimes – like there was nothing he wanted more than to run out of this monastery as fast as possible and never look back.

“I’m so punching Garmadon,” Brad grumbled, picking up the random scrolls he’d been looking through. Boring stuff, honestly. As he was setting them back in their respective nooks, his eye caught on one, seemingly disturbed. Curiously, he unfurled it.

A sketch, done in quick, fluid pencil, of the four Golden Weapons. Those things were old news, but what interested Brad was the Sword of Sanctuary in the middle. His eyes roved over the words, and startled as he made out the characters spelling Lloyd’s name.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, rereading the text in astonishment. He laughed, bouncing in place. “Lloyd! Lloyd, holy shit!”

A few seconds later, the doors to the library slammed open, and Lloyd burst through the door with his fists up. He deflated when he saw Brad with the scroll.

“Is... something wrong?” Brad grinned, holding out the scroll.

“Lloyd, you’ve got to see this. It’s the solution!”

Lloyd took the scroll, reading carefully. His eyes widened the more he read, clutching the scroll tightly. “This... oh, grandfather.”

Brad grabbed Lloyd’s wrists, causing the blonde to look up at him. “Lloyd,” he breathed, “this is our answer. We can cure your curse and beat Garmadon.”

“The Golden Weapons... can break the curse,” Lloyd whispered. A small, hesitant smile grew on his face as hope shined in his eyes. “They- they can get me out of the sword.”

Hypothetically. The scroll was vague, and seemingly all hypotheticals, but it was hope. Hope for Lloyd, and Ninjago.

Brad held Lloyd’s hands to his chest. “Then let’s go get them,” he urged. Lloyd shrunk away a bit.

“But if I leave...”

“Lloyd, please,” Brad begged. “I’m your wielder, aren’t I? Well, I promise, I will never make you shift. I won’t ever order you around, and I won’t ever ignore you if you don’t want to do something.”

“But...”

Lloyd was terrified of losing his free will. From his perspective, Brad could be lying. His words didn’t mean much when they’d known each other for a week.

“Do you really want to wait around for your uncle to do it?” Brad pressed, desperate. He felt bad for pressuring Lloyd, but he also knew that if they could make this work, then Ninjago would be safe. “Lloyd, we can do this, can’t we? One kickass demigod and a swordsman!”

Lloyd gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you even trained?”

“I am... self-taught.”

Lloyd drew back, staring down at the scroll. Brad sighed, and retracted his hands. “I won’t make you,” he said softly, “If you really don’t want to, then I won’t try to make you. But don’t you want to be free?”

“And how do I know you won’t just turn me into a sword the second I step out that door?” Lloyd demanded. His voice cracked. “It’s what anyone would do! I- I'm not even a person to you.”

Brad crossed his arms. “Okay, rude.”

“What?”

“Rude! Man, when I have acted like you’re not a person? I mean, you’re a mega powerful demigod, but that’s different than ‘not a person’. I mean it, Lloyd – I won’t force you to do anything.”

Lloyd furrowed his brows. “I make a pretty kickass sword,” he warned, “you’ll be very sorely tempted. Not to mention all the people that will be after me.”

“They can’t do anything to you,” Brad reminded with a smile, “not if I never turn you into a sword. Which I won’t, because you’re my friend.”

Lloyd hummed thoughtfully. “...I’ve been wanting to kick my dad’s ass for a while,” he muttered vindictively.

“Come on,” Brad said, “adventure of a lifetime!”

“We’ll have to cross the entire continent.”

“Road trip!”

“We’ll be facing down my father’s worst soldiers, and neither of us have powers.”

“We’ll be crafty. You’re a ninja, aren’t you?”

Lloyd hesitated, and Brad could tell he was on the precipice. He softened his gaze. “Lloyd,” he said quietly, “you could wait for someone else to come along and free you... or you can free yourself.”

“Why?” Lloyd muttered. He seemed genuinely curious. “Why risk your life for me like this? You realize that you’ll be in constant danger.”

“Dude, why wouldn’t I? We break your curse, you get your powers back, and boom! Garmadon defeated, Ninjago saved. Besides,” he blushed, “an adventure? With you? Sign me up.”

Lloyd fell quiet, his green eyes calculating. The gemstones on his chest betrayed his growing excitement as they began to light up, thrumming with their own melody.

“Okay,” Lloyd breathed, his eyes brighter than Brad had ever seen them. The sight took his breath away.

“Okay?” He said. Lloyd nodded vigorously, bouncing in excitement.

“Yes! Let’s do it!”

Brad laughed, tackling Lloyd in a hug. The shorter blonde startled, letting out a surprised laugh.

“I am,” Lloyd said when they pulled away, “so ready to leave this monastery.”

They find themselves, hours later, at the gate of the monastery. Brad shoulders the bulk of the bags, full to the brim with clothes and food they’d hurriedly packed. They were both itching to get out now. Maybe Brad hadn’t thought this over enough – but how could he deny the chance to stop the Oni army? How could he pass up such a big adventure?

Lloyd hesitated on the steps, just within the boundaries of the monastery. Brad wordlessly held out his hand for Lloyd to take, smiling softly.

Lloyd looked down at him, framed by the sunlight shining through his golden hair like a halo. He took a deep, shuddery breath, and grabbed the hand.

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

Text

Cursed Vampire!Miguel O'Hara

Okay so i came back from this tiny pause and idk why but a sudden hit of vampire diaries content has been multiplying all over my medias after i returned fully and ooo boi

vampire miguel

but not any vampire miguel

cursed vampire!miguel

on the 30th of august i did a spell for the blue moon in pisces and i was guided by my witchy friend who reminded me about the 4 elements and their usage in witchcraft : if you want something fast you use fire (candles), something that is a bit less faster and that purifies you use air (incent for instance), something that takes a little longer and that you use to heal you use water (rain, rivers, moon water etc) and if you want to make something to last in time, you use earth (burying something in the earth for instance)

and she punctuated this recall by “which is why curses are most of the time buried in the earth, because it lasts in time”

and I was like

yea cursed vampire miguel

but with a twist

content warnings : mentions of blood, killings, miguel trying to kill himself but failing, general vampire stuff and some personal lore i elaborated word count : 4,6k (not proofread)

Let’s imagine the setting. A little village lost in the middle of nowhere, Miguel being perhaps mayor, or even just chief of the village if we go back enough in time to a point where electricity was still just a thing you could see when lightning was striking in the sky but had no place in your home.

He owns the biggest house, a manor with multiple rooms and multiple people living in it ranging from normal villagers to servants. Is he a member of the aristocracy ? Not so much, let’s say that he was a hard worker in the fields or something that involved him getting them big muscles (lumberjack perhaps, who knows) and that he revolted against a previous higher up that owned the place.

Xina, his lover at the time, was a witch, hiding the village. She had helped Miguel with her magic without him knowing when he made the rebellion happen. See, she was ambitious, and if Miguel could help her reach her goals, then she’d use him to her own profit. But one more thing, she was deeply in love with him.

And he did love her, until one thing happened. Dana, Dana D’Angelo happened.

Xina believed in many things, in spirits, in demons, in deities, but if there was one thing she didn’t believe in was second chances.

And so, she cursed him, for you don’t play with a woman’s heart, even less with a witch's one.

It had been a few days since the symptoms of this curse still unknown to his consciousness had started spreading within his body.

First, the same night she was executing the ritual, he couldn’t sleep well. He felt heavy, and yet his head felt airy like it was full of cotton. He felt feverish, his shaking body boiling one last time before his life would turn to eternal ice. He had weird dreams that night, altering between horrors and his eyes opening to his window, looking at the full moon.

The next day felt odd, he had this sort of dryness that never left his mouth, and no matter how much he passed his tongue on the inside of it or drunk anything, it stayed parched. The difficulty and surprise settled in when he tried to eat his breakfast but his silverware burned him. He ended up taking something that did not necessitate him to cut, an apple, a fruit, something to satiate the sharp hunger that burned in his body.

He didn’t like seeing people much in the morning, but considering how many lived in this place, he’d have to face them some time or later. And the light, the light from outside felt… too bright for his eyes. The chandeliers that were still getting lit up in the corridors didn’t burn his eyes though, so why ?

That night, he couldn’t sleep. The next day, going outside felt like an army of ants were crawling under his skin as he got under the sun, and these tingles lasted all day, until at the end of it the tingles had turned into a slight burning. He didn’t understand, it was winter, and here he was catching sunburns.

And the next day, another symptom added itself to the list. Why did the people surrounding him smelled so good ? Why did he feel like being near anyone gave him the sensation that he had not eaten anything for days and that they were smelling exactly like the one thing he craved for and needed ?

And then he couldn’t see himself any more in the mirrors, and cutlery felt like he was touching hell, and being outside was like being in hell. And when he passed someone that felt so good, why were his nails elongated into claws ? He definitely ruined some curtains at some point because he was trying to retract them.

And… wait, Xina hadn’t been much around lately. Why couldn’t he get a grasp of her ? Why did he never cross her way ? Had she discovered about his affair ?

And then, one night, when the multiple symptoms had added and fixed themselves entirely in Miguel’s body, his entire property started acting weird around him.

He could hear their whispers, their hearts beating in their chests and pumping blood in their entire body, he could smell their singular perfumes from metres away : everything felt as heightened as dull.

More and more people started leaving their place from the manor. They had heard rumours, rumours saying that he was a malfeasant being, that he had organised the rebellion for power and that he intended to turn everyone here slaves to his demonic energy.

Soon enough, only Miguel remained in the manor. He was more and more absent, living as a recluse in his own part of his quarters.

And one night, as someone was banging heavily on his doors, he came downstairs. As he opened them, he saw that the villagers that had been living under the same roof with him for several months were armed, ready to stab or spike him.

Of course, Xina was at the center of the group. Followed what looked like a fight, but Miguel was almost twice bigger than most of them, and ten times stronger, so he massacred most of the rebels against him until the remaining ones decided to leave the village.

Xina came to him, and told him :

"You have grievously offended me by your cheating, and this crime against me is an affront I could not let pass. Hence, I have cursed you."

Miguel tried to attack her, but as his claws tried to dig into her, he was violently pushed away and his back came into contact with a wall, he fell to the ground, remaining seated against it. Xina walked towards him.

"You can't do anything to me," she said, a pale glow glimmering around her as the sort of crystal crisalide that surrounded her faded at the lack of impact against it.

"What have you done to me?" he breathed.

"I told you, I cursed you," she knelt. "I made you a vampyr."

he looks at her, his eyes finally turning red. She smiled. He had heard of these creatures of legend, these stories made to frighten children and the superstitious, but he had never thought that he would become one in his turn.

"You should be happy, I've given you the gift of immortality. I told myself that eternity would be enough time for you to reflect on your actions," she said, tilting her head to one side. "The few friends you have left will die, those around me will die too, and much later it will be my turn to die. But you, you will remain. Children age, lovers perish. Kingdoms are born and burn up, and you, you will go on."

He didn't want eternity. Why want it when you know the world you live in, but did he really have a choice?

"But you see, even in my revenge I will remain merciful. I offer you two solutions." she said, raising her hand next to her head to count the options. "The first, you find my curse, and destroy it, which will return you to mortal rank." Hope sprang up in Miguel's now cold mind. "Secondly, you find someone who will love you despite what you are and be prepared to forgive all your faults and misdeeds. However, they won't bring mortality back to you, you'll simply be able to change them into a being just like you, and to live with that person for eternity." She rose to her feet, looking down on him before saying her last words:

"Farewell, Miguel O'Hara. The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave. You were my first and last love. You took hold of my heart and crushed it. If you fail to find my curse, choose well." Choose well.

She left, leaving him alone. Remorse, Regret, Guilt and Anger mingled within him in his grey heart. He was alone.

The first decades and the first century were most complex. First of all, he searched the entire region, every piece of land and stone, for Xina's curse. His first instinct was to go to the room she occupied in the manor house, but she had taken everything she owned with her. He went to his family home, searching every room with great interest. But there was nothing.

He searched the library of his manor for information on witches and their rituals, and the only information he could find was that most curses were buried in the ground.

Days, weeks, months of digging everywhere, and nothing. Strictly nothing. The despair of loneliness overtook him earlier than he thought, and soon enough, he tried to put an end to it.

He tried many times. To make matters worse, all the silver objects he used for everything had been taken away by the villagers. The coup had been prepared, Xina had planned everything so that he would have to live with himself.

Hanging himself was useless, as he could no longer breathe, and the cutlery, which was not made of silver, bent against his skin when he tried to stab himself. All night he tried, and when the time finally came for the sun to rise, he placed himself in full sunlight, telling himself that the tingling would be enough to finish him off.

But nothing, the sun stung his pale skin slightly, but didn't go any further. The sensation was slightly unpleasant, but he wasn't suffering terribly. Trying to stay all day in the sun to try and burn himself was useless, for when night came, his skin healed by itself.

Rage hung in his stomach as much as hunger, but he smelt something so enticing that for a moment he wondered if normal blood was flowing through his veins again and he was alive. A simple passer-by had come too close to the village, and Miguel had let his gnawing desire for something to eat get the better of him, draining all the energomer's blood in just a few seconds.

It didn't take him long to become addicted to the feeling of life that filled him everytime he drank blood. He couldn't live like a human again right? So he would take whatever human life he could find on his path.

He knew of a small village nearby where he could feast. It took him a long time to learn to control his appetite, but it took less to learn that his curse had given him an intoxicating beauty that attracted all those he desired. Another of Xina's cruel tricks, he told himself, people will simply be blinded by my aura, thinking they love me when it's really just cursed desire.

He began methodically, taking the inhabitants back to his manor one by one. The first few times he drank them raw, but soon he got used to not drinking all their blood and making them his reserves. They were intoxicated, he could do whatever he wanted with them, but above all: their blind desire made them immensely loyal. None of them ran away, none of them refused to have their blood drunk, and even if Miguel told them to leave, they were far too pained by the thought and preferred to stay.

When the village was hit by an epidemic of a disease, Miguel went there to dump the few corpses that had not survived his bites, so that his business could pass incognito.

He knew of a town not far away and how difficult it was to house all its inhabitants. He went there, explaining to the mayor that he had recently bought a piece of land not far away with old abandoned houses that could help. "What a generous man," said the mayor, and soon enough much of the overcrowded town found itself reviving the village.

Miguel was an experimentalist in his approach to humans. It was so strange to have to deal with them in this way, not as people like himself, but as prey and how he would go about capturing them.

In particular, he was experimenting with his physical abilities. Some twenty years later, when the village was well established, he was tempted to go to the village pub. He could drink as much as he liked and didn't get drunk, he could carry heavy loads without any problem, and he gave himself over to the desires of the flesh with an excpetional energy that pleased all his partners - although they all complained about his icy body.

A century later, all was well, he had once again continued his trick of taking various villagers to his home and making them his delicacies, but he was doing it more sparingly. Humans became less foolish with time, and soon disappearances became too much of a topic in the village. Miguel was finally suspected, after a series of attempts to pin the blame on other suspects.

The slaughter was terrible, and the bottles of wine he filled with blood in the huge cellar of his manor house multiplied until he no longer had to hunt for a long time.

The company of men had become too boring for him. He had become bitter towards them, finding them profoundly idiotic. So he locked himself away in his books, and only left his manor occasionally to go and get more.

But Miguel was no longer interested in finding a way to end it all, he now wanted to get on with feeding his intellect and perhaps, who knows, one day help humans to make this world a better place and become less stupid.

Fifty years later you arrived. You had fled from a village further afield and found this one, which seemed untouched and empty, just what you needed to live peacefully.

You entered the manor house, and unlike all the other dwellings in the area, this one didn't seem so dilapidated and abandoned. You were convinced that someone was living there as soon as you saw one of the chandeliers lit. You arrived in the library, which was by far the least dusty part of the house, and for good reason - Miguel hardly ever went out of it. You found him sitting in his armchair with a book in his hand.

Miguel was 232 at the time, and had long since forgotten the second chance that Xina had offered him. And now that he was a more mature vampyr who didn't attack everything that moved, he managed to strike up a conversation with you.

He was intrigued that a human had arrived here, it's been a long time since he'd seen one. At first he was bothered that you were disturbing his calm and solitude, and he hesitated to kill you on the spot, just like that, without you having time to wonder what was happening.

But when you explained that you'd run away from your village, he was intrigued. And his interest was further piqued when he learned that the reason you had fled was that you were suspected of practising witchcraft, and therefore should be burnt. You didn't really seem like much of a threat, but then again, Xina didn't seem much of a threat either...

He also noticed that his charms weren't working on you, as you were obviously protected. His trained nose detected garlic in your necklace and bracelet, mixed with other herbs that wouldn't do him any good if he were to come to close to them.

Garlic cleanses, it 'purifies', it's a very good antibiotic like lemon (which repels spiders). Vampyrism would have been considered a blood disease, which in Miguel's eyes was not far from the truth.

Eating garlic purified the bacteria present in the blood and, according to some people, would either turn a vampyr back into a normal person or cause their death. The plague came from miasmas, and strong smells like garlic and spices kept them away, which was a reason in the collective mind for vampyrs to use them as a repelling weapon. These little things wouldn't do him much harm, but their influence was enough for you to not feel his hypnoze.

He agreed to let you stay with him, and went so far as to hunt animals for you and bring you vegetables from his garden so that you could eat properly. Why did he keep you with him when he could no longer stand humans and you could be a danger to him? It's quite simple.

Vampyrs aren't sentimental, the only state that comes close to love or attraction for them is obsession, and it didn't take Miguel long to develop one for you. Second, after so many years of loneliness, sharing some parts of his days with someone felt good. And then there was the fact that you were a witch, and that with a bit of luck you'd be able to help him put an end to his curse.

You started off naively enough, but you were curious about vampyrs and kept asking him questions on the subject:

"Why can't you see yourselves in the mirror?"

He sighs, taking you to a room in the manor where stood an old mirror. He took your arm and placed you with him in the reflection. You could only see your own reflection, and just as you were about to marvel in your shudder, Miguel explains:

"That mirror you see there is made of steel, a material that could be lethal to me, and is a formidable weapon against my kind. I'd advise you not to try and break it to attack me, that would be a serious mistake. Most of the mirrors there were in my time were made of steel, and since then they've started to make..." he led you further into a corridor where there was another mirror, "made of aluminium."

He placed you in front of it again, and this time you could see your reflection in the mirror. He was so tall compared to you, and so powerful... a shiver ran down your spine as your eyes met.

"With fae, they can't see themselves in lead, it's their Achilles heel." he said before letting you go and moving on.

You didn't feel any particular hatred towards vampyrs, more a certain curiosity, and obviously a fright. These creatures had been alive for so long, had seen empires fall, kingdoms be born, wars break out, and they had lived through so much...

Miguel had almost forgotten the need for humans to sleep. Fortunately, there was still one bed for you to occupy: Miguel's.

It was a bit dusty, and you even joked to Miguel that you were surprised it wasn't a coffin. He sighed as he got your bed ready, thinking that if you hoped to make friends in such a mediocre way he'd already regret his decision to keep you.

But that didn't stop him watching over you while you slept.

You seemed so peaceful like that, abandoned to the world of dreams, of your insignificant little life. Your frailty fascinated him. And to think that he himself had once been like that...

Your days were quiet, there weren't many exciting activities. You were used to picking and working all day in your village, but here you had nothing to do.

So you chatted to Miguel, listening to him tell you a bit about his whole life. In 232 years of existence one must have a few amusing anecdotes to tell, don't you think? You spent almost all of your time together, and it wasn't long before you started to have feelings for him.

You were afraid, afraid of what he would think, that he would tell you that "it was to be expected, humans are so easily corrupted. You don't love me, you're simply attracted by the beauty that was given to me to attract you."

But you knew it wasn't that evil charm that had got you, it was him all over. Perhaps you should avoid him? Maybe you should leave...

Miguel had felt the change in you, heard how your heart beat a little faster and stronger when you spoke to him, noticed the change in your attitude, especially when he caught you deep in thought. You were hiding something from him, and he was curious to know what.

One evening, when you'd pretended to go to bed, you came down the stairs, grabbed a few provisions that you'd packed in your basket in the kitchen, and silently walked through the big door. It wrung your heart to leave, but a human and a vampyr are an impossible love story. It was only a few minutes later, as your smell and the presence of your warmth began to disappear, that Miguel looked up from his book and your absence hit him right in the throat.

You trudged along on the muddy ground, the snow falling on your body and chilling you despite your coat. A sound of wind as swift and as a sharp blade on a stone brushed against your ear when Miguel was standing in front of you. You stopped walking, watching the prince of the night who was not afraid of the cold let himself be caressed by the snowflakes. None of them melted on his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, even though the question sounded almost like a threat.

"I realised that my humanity would be my undoing soon enough in your presence, and so I chose to leave."

"Why," he questioned as he moved closer to you until you had to tilt your head back in the hope of continuing to look him in the eye.

Your heart raced, "My personal affections towards you have shifted."

"Shifted?" he enquired as his hand gently came to clear the melted flakes from your cheeks, or was it your tears? "How have they shifted?"

"They became... omnipresent."

A slight smile stretched his lips as his fingers passed under your chin

"Tell me about them." an order, a necessity.

"They... they make me feel different." you say as your voice shrivels.

"How different," he says as he leans in and brings his face close to yours.

"Warm, and fuzzy," you whispered, "and make my every thoughts come back to... you."

Your breath catches on his lips, his red eyes never leaving yours.

"Am I the object of your love, mi vida?" His breath was cold, and exuded death.

"Yes, you are," you confirm as your voice cracks.

He came to kiss you, the coolness of his lips even colder than the night, and you shivered as the contrast with your skin and the sensation of passion in his kiss sent tingles to the back of your skull.

In as many years of existence, you're the only one who's managed to make him feel human again, and that's enough for him.

"Let's bring you back inside, alright?" he said as he parted from your lips to lift you up in one fell swoop into his princess arms.

And so your relationship gradually metamorphosed, each day sweeter and more fused than the last, until finally the time came for Miguel to think about making you his eternal bride.

What a vile gift she had given him, to allow him to turn you into such a loathsome, despicable, odious being. This choice was going to deprive you of so many things. From the sunlight going from caress to crush, your appetite capsizing, your inability to sleep again. And he didn't want to deprive you of your life.

He didn't want to turn you into such a monstrosity, but you reassured him, explaining that there was nothing in the world that would make you shy away from being with him. Besides, was a life without him by your side really worth living when you were growing old and he remained eternally young and beautiful?

So, with determination, he finally sank his fangs into your skin and set about turning you into a vampire. He simply let the venom infect your veins without ever, ever drinking your blood.

And your change took place just as his had, over the course of several days. He mopped up your fever, held you close to him when your dreams were strange, got you used to going out in the sun without going too far, and then introduced you to drinking blood. He had forgotten how hungry and powerful a new vampire could be, and seeing you almost empty his entire wine cellar made him shudder: not with regret or disgust, but with euphoria.

Never again would he be alone.

The years went by, and your couple survived every era. The good thing about living forever is that you can always find ways to entertain yourself, and it stays with you over time. You still remember so well, for example, that moment when you swam in that lake moving a poor piece of wood and people nicknamed the legendary creature you had inadvertently created 'the Lochness monster'.

It wasn't until years later, out of curiosity, that Miguel wondered what had become of Xina. And after several months of intensive research around the world, you find her grave.

He had read some of the records of what she had achieved. She had climbed far enough up the social ladder until her decisions were taken seriously by certain governors. But soon enough, when she passed the age of 110 while still looking pretty young for her age, she was accused of witchcraft, and instead of dying at the stake, she stabbed herself in the heart, her relatives burying her here.

The two of you stood by her grave and still insisted on bringing her flowers. But it was as he lowered himself to the ground that Miguel remembered what she'd said: "The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave."

Could it be...

So you both set about digging it all up, digging until you finally found her coffin. You were, after all, creatures of blasphemy, but opening her grave made you hesitate at first. Who knows what spell she might have put on her coffin to ensure that anyone who opened it would be cursed?

But when he opened it and discovered her skeleton, he found nothing.

"You were my first and last love. You grabbed my heart..."

"And you crushed it," he whispered.

He plunged his hand between her empty ribs, until he touched something hard, something that didn't have the texture of bone. He reached for the object, a wooden box sealed with black wax.

"Is it... what I think it is ?" you asked.

He nodded, silent. He wouldn't open it, he'd learned from some of his lessons. With his powerful hand, he crushed the box between his fingers with ease, a cascade of dust mixed with sand, herbs and other objects from the ritual surging through his fingers.

And his body burned with a delicious warmth. The familiarity of the humanity in him completed itself, while for you, too, vitality returned to your veins.

The curse was lifted, and now you could act normally. What a surprise it was when your two bodies touched and the warmth they emanated made you smile. And what a joy it was to be able to eat normally and not get a rash on your skin if you spent too many hours in the sun.

Thus your life ended in peace and love, both of you continuing your lives together peacefully.

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