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stargirlrchive · 1 year

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folklore: peace ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ folklore masterlist

summary: widowed!jake sully x female!reader, no use of y/n, angst, marriage of convenience, mentions of death, TW!! eluded to death due to child birth, less angsty than previous chapter but she’s still sad :(

word count: 2,855

sa’nok (n) - mother ; ‘ite (n) - daughter ; ‘itan (n) - son

comments: hi bbys! i love this chapter sm! already started working on the third so it should be up in a few days <3 hope you all enjoyyyyy love u bye!!! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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- pandora, omitikaya forest, 2167 -

The years had melted away quickly, your heart no longer yearned as it once had for the life you could have had because you were content with the life you lived. Everyday that passed your love grew for the children, though it was an easy task to begin with. From Neteyam to Tuk, you were sure Eywa had blessed Jake and Neytiri with the calmest babes. Before you knew it five years had passed.

Memories from the past years fluttered your mind as you readied yourself for the celebration that would be held for the clan shortly.

Lo’ak and Kiri had instantly found comfort in you as they missed their mother. You had always been around, you and Neytiri were practically attached at the hip and you had joined her and Jake during every birth of their children. They were still not quite old enough to understand why Neytiri was not around, but your constant presence eased the yearning a bit. They both had already seen you as somewhat of a mother figure so the transition did not affect them as much. Your bond with the two seven year olds was strong from the start.

As the years passed Kiri enjoyed watching you work as you healed her father or brothers. She especially appreciated it when she suggested certain alternatives to ease the pain for the wounded and you listened. She adored the fact that she had three mothers, how you talked about Neytiri and kept her spirit alive. Besides your constant presence, that was always comforting and warm, your respect for Neytiri was felt even in the way you spoke of her. As if she was still physically around.

Lo’ak was the wild card, which had been a big shock as when he was a tiny child he was always so quiet. Often playing by himself or wanting to be dotted over by you. For the first two years he was the one that clung to you quickest, and as you coddled him to get him to sleep he would mumble out that your skin felt like Neytiri’s and the sleep would instantly find him. Even now as his rebellious nature reached an all time high and Jake would scold the young boy he found solace in you. You were the gentler parent out of the two and anytime a scolding was too rough on him he’d find himself unable to part from you. You comforted him in a way he only vaguely remembers Neytiri had.

Unfortunately for Tuk she had no recollection of Neytiri, her love for you knew no limit because in her eyes you were her mother. The one she cuddled into if she had a nightmare, the only one she let braid her hair. You were everything to the small girl. Her favorite time with you was when all her siblings were gone and she had you all to herself, you taught her how to make necklaces and weave baskets, all while you told her stories of Neytiri and Jake. She felt Neytiri everywhere, she knew she was around and felt the love her mother had for her through you.

All the children had grown to love you, but it was hardest on Neteyam as he was almost nine when you stepped into the role. But his appreciation for you grew each day as he realized how much you cared for him and his siblings.

It was evident even now, just yesterday he completed his Iknimaya and you were the first person he ran to. He nuzzled into your embrace as he recalled everything that happened with his Ikran before he made the bond. “Sa’nok! Dad said I claimed my Ikran faster than he did!”

You felt like something had tugged at your heart as you stared at the tall boy, he had never called you mother before. “Oh my sweet boy, I am so proud of you!”

Your thoughts were cut short as someone behind you cleared their throat, you jumped lightly as you turned to look at who had entered the home. It was Jake. “Hello, Jake.”

You turned back to what you were doing, mixing the white paste to create a paint. Things had never really changed between you and him, just a comfortable routine. He respected you in the way a mate should, same for you. But neither of you really went past being cordial with one another despite the longing feeling that nestled into your heart at your close proximity with the Olo’eyktan. But that was all it was, a feeling that was fleeting then hit you all at once, one that you had pushed so far back you didn’t even know what you felt for the man. “I came to see if you were ready, the clan is ready to begin celebrating.”

Your fingers dipped into the paste and you painted four lines on each side of your upper arms, “I will be ready shortly, you can go on.”

Jake sighed quietly, he had been feeling awkward around you lately. He couldn't place exactly what it was but the feeling was burrowing deeper into his chest as the weeks went on. “I think it is best if we enter together. We always do so, it might make everyone think something is wrong.”

Your brows furrowed together in confusion but you did not comment on it. Your fingers continued to paint gently across your collar bones and up your throat all the way to the plump of your bottom lip. You adjusted the intricate feathered loin cloth, one that was far too fancy for a regular day but it sat nicely on your frame for the party that was sure to last most of the night and well past eclipse. Your top was covered in gold and emerald beads and sat high on your chest, your torso was exposed more than usual and Jake found it hard to look away.

He swallowed uncomfortably as you looked at him, “Ready?”

You did not wait for him to respond and made your way outside of the tent, walking past families who were making their way towards the large clearing in High Camp. Jake followed behind you, the sound of the beads distracting him slightly as he tried to keep up with your swift steps.

As you both entered the clearing it was filled with loud chatter, the music even louder as you felt the vibrations on your feet. The trees surrounding the premises were decorated with vines and leaves that glowed under the fire, “This will be good for the clan.”

You were smiling as your steps slowed down, walking besides Jake towards the center of the room. Each Na’vi you passed sent both you and Jake a peaceful smile, greeting you properly as you both motioned the greeting back.

“Yes it will. It will be some form of distraction from what has been happening with the Sky-people.”

“Hopefully.”

After you had settled into your seat, Jake began his speech. Congratulating the young warriors, naming each of them one by one. He reminded them of the responsibility the mantle held and how honorable and important their role was within the clan. They were reborn and accepted as adults and they would now assimilate to the needs of the clan. He let Mo’at take over as she guided a prayer to Eywa, the clan in complete harmony as they sent their gratitude to the Great Mother.

Jake chimed in moments later, “Let the celebration begin!”

The music picked up again, laughter and loud chatter filled the space. Your ears twitched slightly as Neteyam made his way towards the two of you. A nervous smile on his face, the words tumbling out of his mouth, “I am not expected to find a mate tonight, right?”

Your hands flew to your mouth as you tried to stop yourself from laughing. Neteyam had never brought that topic up to you and as you turned to look at Jake you figured he had not done so with him either. His cheeks were a dark purple, clearing his throat as he looked for the words to say, “No-why would you think that, ‘itan?”

Neteyam’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he shrugged, “That is all people keep telling me to do now.”

“Do not worry about that now, go have fun.”

Neteyam smiled at you, sending another one to his father as he retreated back to his friends, “Eywa, I did not think we would have had to have that conversation for another few years.”

Jake laughed quietly, “Neither did I.”

The next few hours went by smoothly, the clan had come together and everyone’s hard work was evident with the energy surrounding you. There was a change in music and everyone began making their way towards the center. It was a traditional dance all Na’vi knew and it was one of your favorites.

You sighed quietly as everyone lined up, mind drifting as you imagined what your life would’ve been like. If you would be dancing with your mate who loved you? Who would be sitting besides the Toruk Makto? If you would have had kids yourself already. A sadness you had not felt in a long time began to wrap around your heart. You blinked back the tears that pooled at your eyes as you watched everyone begin to dance.

Jake was about to comment on Neteyam and Lo’ak being dragged to dance but the words were cut short as he saw your watery eyes. He had not seen that look in your face in a very long time, sadness and longing and he felt something tug in his chest. He noticed how your head slightly moved to the sound of the music, your eyes glazed over as you watched everyone dance and laugh. Before Jake could stop himself he was up, “Come.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Jake towered over you from his standing position, “Let’s dance.”

You were not sure why the request shocked you so much, but it did. Your eyes widened as you looked around, not believing he was talking to you. “You want to dance? With me?”

He rolled his eyes lightly, grabbing your wrist as he pulled you up from your seat, “Yes-now let’s hurry.”

Jake made haste as he dragged you along and your mind raced as nerves bubbled in your chest. There was a time, maybe two years back where your feelings for Jake had begun to confuse you. It stemmed out of loneliness and even though you did not want to admit it, attraction. It was hard, you were sad and though you had love poured onto you from the kids and the clan, there was always something missing. Some hole that was never filled.

And it scared you, caused the guilt to eat at your soul because of Neytiri, and you promised you would never let your emotions consume you that way, not for Jake. This was far too close and far too intimate, something that you had never felt with the Olo’eyktan. You were pressed side by side as body’s moved around the two of you. Your hands and hips swaying to the music as they moved in the routine you knew like the back of your hand. Your eyes locked onto Jake’s neck, you did not want to reach his eyes as both of your hands extended towards him, ghosting over his chest as your hands ran up and down. You could feel the warmth of his skin and it caused a shiver to run up your spine, trying to focus on anything but him.

Your skin erupted into goosebumps as his hands fell to your waist, moving them gently side to side to the beat of the music that was pounding in his ears. Your skin was soft, and his fingers were calloused, moving up the side of your ribs and extending them to your hands as they moved. It bothered him that you would not look at him, his head was tilted slightly as his eyes raked all over your form. Cheeks flamed a dark hue as the sound of your beaded top distracted him once again. He looked up and his eyes finally locked with yours, and it took him back a bit.

Your gaze was soft, almost shy like you had no idea what to do with yourself and he felt the exact same why. Every graze of your fingers that touched against his skin felt like fire running through his skin. It felt so foreign and he hated that he didn’t want it to end. He was wishing the song would go on for hours because he’s never had you this close, didn’t know if he’d get to again. This feeling was new and all consuming, he was scared.

The song ended and everyone stilled, it felt like someone had thrown ice cold water on him as he stared at you. A gnawing feeling clawing at his chest as he locked eyes with you again. Guilt.

He felt the need to apologize, as if he made you two cross a line you both never had before. Before he could, you turned stiffly away from him and made your way back to your seat next to Mo’at.

The night progressed and the sun was starting to cast a pink hue over High Camp, the crowd was still in full swing but with Mo’at deciding to retreat you did the same. Tuk was curled into you, deep in sleep as you adjusted her to begin the walk back to your family tent.

Your eyes quickly scanned around looking for the other three kids, Lo’ak and Netyam were with Jake, laughing about something he had said. Your eyes briefly locked with his as you were turning to look for Kiri.

She sat beside other young Na’vi girls, singing along to the music that was still playing. You began to make your way through the clearing, soothing Tuk’s back as she moved around in your arms, the poor girl was so exhausted. “Something is wrong between you and JakeSully.”

You turned to look at the Tsahik, she did not spare you a glance as she kept walking, “There is nothing wrong between us.”

“Yes there is, do not lie to me. The Great Mother speaks to me, gives me signs and something has been wrong since your union. She is unhappy.”

Fear gripped at your throat, you swallowed to try and ease the burn that began to burrow there. “You do not act like a mated couple. You both act as if you know nothing of each other. No kids either? Do you not want your own?”

“I am perfectly content with the life I have, Mo’at. And I have four children already, that is more than enough for both Jake and I.”

“You are just content? A union with your mate should not make you feel content, you should feel euphoric, happy, loved.”

You felt anger bubble in your chest at the older woman, she had no right to comment on what your life ended up being. All the things she felt you lacked were her doing, she planted the idea of the union, she pushed you and Jake to come together in a way neither of you ever wanted to. “What do you want me to say Mo’at? That I would gladly sacrifice myself for Jake to live a happy life with his kids? That nothing makes me happier than when he comes home and he is not injured or in pain? Do you want me to shout it out for the entire clan to hear? That I lov-”

Your ears pinned back as the words almost slipped from your tongue, your tail twitched in fear. Mo’at froze as she realized it was hard for you to even get the words out. “That you love him?”

She noticed small tears pooled in your eyes, “What is wrong, ‘ite?”

“Nothing is wrong, I told you already.”

Her eyes shifted behind you, you blinked the tears away, “Ah-JakeSully.”

You continued the short distance to your tent, Tuk feeling heavy in your arms as your whole body felt like it was going to cave in. Jake and the rest of the kids followed in shortly as you laid Tuk down.

Tears fell freely down your eyes as you stared at the small girl, trying your hardest to blink them away, “You should’ve had me bring her.”

You wiped at the tears quickly, “I was tired, I wanted to come home already and figured the four of you still wanted to be out.”

Jake’s hand gripped at your forearm, stopping you from leaving him again. His face was filled with concern as he scanned over your face. “Why are you crying?”

More tears fought to leak but you blinked them away, “Just one of those days. Peace of mind has been difficult for me to find lately.”

You removed your arm from his, something had shifted between the two of you and it scared you. You wanted no part of it.

🏷️ ; @luvlykrispy @fanboyluvr @daydreamer2k @tonowarii @mrs-sullys-blog @cupidddd-d @iamparou @myheartfollower @cwufst @cleverzonkwombatsludge @gandalfsbathwater @tonysslut @ch0nky-child @irisskies @bobojojoba69 @sseleniaa @perseny @stargirl-ghostiesss ; i tagged who i could, some @’s were not working for me, pls lmk if you would like to be added <3

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nyonyen · 2 months

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INSTINCTUAL

nyen x gn!reader | AO3 | DUBCON 18+ ᴛᴀɢs: somnophilia, blood kink, scratching, predator/prey dynamics, unsafe sex, breathplay, male masturbation, reader is into it, porn with minimal plot ww ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ: my dear friend who has such lovely ideas <3

Nyen wanders about the halls of the Ivory household, unable to rest with how Nyon mutters nonstop Russian nonsense in his sleep. He thought of curling up at the foot of Luther’s bed, relishing in his Master’s presence— but the door of his room was locked. Most likely due to a headache, Nyen hums to himself. He continues to stalk around when he stumbles upon one of the many guest rooms— this one being where you lay fast asleep.

You were a guest of the home, having been found by Luther on one of his late-night excursions. He had almost shot you before he realized you were stuck in some inhumane, albeit harmless, hunter’s trap. Taking immediate pity on such an unfortunate human, Luther decided to nurse you back to health— even if you had assured him you were barely injured.

Nyen and Nyon had watched you from the shadows, whispering about whether they were finally being replaced. You had stayed away from the rest of the house members on the Master’s recommendation, heading straight to bed instead.

This didn’t stop you from catching peeks at them, your eyes widening at the oddities particular to each individual. You were particularly fond of that handsome pink-haired man and his hardened stares— you wish you had more time to get to know him.

The two catmen were slow to realize that this was not a ploy to replace them— it was just their Master's ever-present kindness to the human populace. Nyen, the foremost hunter of the house, had kept a keener eye than Nyon on you. He saw how your hair framed your face, how you bit back winces whenever Luther applied the hydrogen peroxide and gauze. It was intriguing, and he felt tinges of want when he saw your expressions of pain.

Was that so wrong?

As you lay in the uncomfortable bed, staring at the ceiling, you can hear the loud whispers of the people you had just met. You thought about Nyen, as you learned his name might be through your eavesdropping. His voice, even in whispers, sounded so rough and commanding— that is, until, his Master spoke. How interesting it is to see someone so high and mighty silence themselves at the behest of someone else.

You quickly fall asleep, thoughts of taking his cat ear-like hat off flooding your psyche.

Nyen, lost in his own thoughts, finds himself at the front of your door, already hearing the telltale sounds of your chest rising and falling. He could still smell your healing scratches from the trap. He peers through the gap, Luther not allowing you to lock it fully— no one in the Ivory household was permitted. He sniffed the air again, realizing your wounds were perhaps more serious than you let on. The scent was alluring to the catman, it was simply in his nature.

His feet carried him inside the darkened room, steps quiet and calculated— albeit subconscious. You were so peaceful, so serene... so vulnerable. Nyen approaches you slowly, pushing a lock of your hair away from your face. He hadn't seen you up close yet, and it was so worth it— even in this lighting, or lack thereof.

Your hair framed your face perfectly, and your lips were slightly agape in a quiet breathing pattern. You weren’t snoring, you looked so beautiful— he wanted to make you his. His heart beats faster as he brings a finger to trace your arm, moving down towards your blanket-covered legs. Nyen fights back a smirk as he sees the blood seeping through the cotton.

He immediately lifts the blanket, paying no mind to how unseemly the act is. He watches as the gash drips softly through the bandage, you being none the wiser to its increasing. Kneeling to its level, he feels his heart pump even faster as his face approaches the injury. In this light, even with his improved sight, the blood looked like a syrup of some kind— something sweet. In his mind, there was no other option except to taste.

Peeling back the fabric, Nyen’s tongue darts out suddenly— licking where the skin had split from that crude device. The taste was metallic, of course, but had an underlying sweetness like he expected. It wasn’t anything like the gamey ratmen or the bland coyotemen— there was substance.

Luther had steered them away from eating humans for a very long time, on some principle Nyen didn’t pretend to understand— but even then, he had never tasted like human blood like this. His slightly rough tongue speeds in its licking, finding itself quickly addicted.

You stir in your half-awake state, your mind struggling to focus on the increasing wetness on the outside of your thigh. He doesn’t notice at all, only groaning under his breath as your muscle twitches— reminding him of prey caught between teeth.

Nyen feels a sick sense of excitement at this, more so than usual. He subconsciously flexes his claws into his jeans as he presses his face deeper into your flesh. You tasted so good to him, so new and perfect… he was falling in deep. His hand fumbles with his zipper as he tries to focus on lapping at the increasing blood flow— the texture of his tongue most likely the cause.

His breath comes out in a hiss as he grips the base of his cock, he hadn’t realized how painfully hard he had become— had it been since he first smelled the blood on you? Nyen couldn’t care less right now, he just cared about relieving that primal urge. He started with an experimental pump, to test the waters, and his mouth fell open in an unabashed, cracked groan.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness around you at a snail’s pace— but you are deeply aware of the pressure on your body. You hear a flurry of noises, and you quickly realize what’s happening towards the end of the bed. Nyen, even in his borderline inebriated state, notices your stiffening at his actions.

In a flash, he’s on top of you with his hand clamped over your mouth. You can’t see anything but the predatory glint in his eyes.

“Don’t… don’t fucking move, alright?” Nyen’s eyes were wild, and his voice was out of breath. It was more gravelly than you expected.

Lucky for him, you had no intentions to. Your eyes fall from surprise to desire as you see who it is that’s decided to claim you as his— that catman with a staring problem who you had just been dreaming of. Despite your obvious excitement, his hand tightens against your face, impeding your ability to breathe.

His body weighed down on yours as he straddled you, and in your squirming, you find some pleasant friction. You chase this as you take in the feeling of your oxygen being limited and this strange individual who was just masturbating to the taste of your blood— your arousal and interest had been piqued.

“Knew this was gonna be easy,” Nyen smirks at your movements, “Just stay put.”

Tentatively, he pulls his hand from your face as he slinks down your body, the blanket strewn to the other side of the room. He relishes in the feeling of your skin, still tasting its blood on his tongue. You were sure that if the lights were on, you would see his lips tinged with red.

You eagerly pull down your underwear as his head dips— expecting him to dive between your legs. Instead, his tongue laps up more blood from your thigh, and you shiver at the animalistic action. You tremble as his hand grips your other leg, his claws threatening to dig in before raising himself back up to your level with a satisfied groan.

He kneels in front of you, wiping his mouth haphazardly as his hand guides his hardness to your entrance. Painfully slowly, Nyen drags himself up and down the entire length of your wetness, urged on by your quiet whines.

“Don’t get all shy now. I knew from the moment you stepped in our house you needed to get put in your place,” he whispers, even while knowing that no matter what, Randal’s dolls will hear, “And it had to be me, right?”

“Please,” you nod, feeling your voice quiver even with one simple word.

He pushes in, paying no mind to the preparation needed beforehand. Your eyes clamp shut at the size of him, you had barely any visual to work off of. Nyen groans loudly as he bottoms out, his claws half unsheathed into your thighs.

The pain from your injuries felt almost good as he fit inside, a dull feeling exaggerated by his obvious excitement at it all. You feel the pain from your new claw marks as he moves his hands to either side of your head— leaning over you fully. He starts to pull out, only to slam back in. He laughs breathily at your surprised reaction at the pace he’s set from the get-go, but even he wasn’t immune.

“So goddamn tight, fuck…”

As Nyen continues to thrust, he licks his claws from when they had pierced your skin— tasting that sweetness that got him so worked up in the first place. You looked up at him as he did this, your eyes now fully adjusted to the dark as much as you could be— and you swore he looked divine.

You fought to keep your eyes from shutting in pleasure, but his chorus of moans right above you was the most erotic thing you had ever experienced. The angle suddenly changed as he got even closer to your face, his eyes dead-set on yours. Nyen somehow felt deeper, closer to claiming you as he had aimed.

From your perspective, he definitely felt deeper, but he was angled right towards your G-spot. A particularly loud whine erupts from you due to this, and just as before, he swiftly silences you— this time, with a hand around your neck.

You still moaned, but much quieter this time. That high you felt from his covering your mouth was tenfold this time, everything was heightened and practically immobilizing— you felt that knot inside of you tighten.

Nyen was in no better position— he had been hellbent on using you as his own, but his excited state had him almost doubling over in pleasure.

“Stop clamping down so hard, God!” He hissed, his tightness around your throat fading just a little bit. “Gonna cum all the way inside, yeah? That’s what you want?”

Nodding desperately, Nyen is right back to tightening his grip, even deeper this time— claws included. You knew very well how dangerous this situation was: in a weird house in a huge forest, getting fucked by some animalperson whose claws were pressing into your neck— but your desire rivaled that fear. Or, perhaps, they blended together.

He ogled at your willingness in this situation— even if was just stupidity, it got him the same result. It turned him on even more to see your eyes express total submission. You were truly prey he had caught, something all to himself.

With a final thrust, Nyen releases as far inside of you as he can— his hips stuttering from the intensity. Your eyes fall back as your own climax washes over you, that knot unfurling fast as light. The two of you tremble in an odd embrace— both partially covered in streaks of your blood.

As if you hadn’t slept in years, you drift off quickly underneath his body— the only evidence of your not passing away was your still rapid heartbeat. He pulls out, not noticing your lack of consciousness.

“Want me to get you a beer or something?” Nyen zips his jeans back on and fixes his hat. “I didn’t fuck you to death, did I?”

He isn’t scared, per se, when he turns to notice your state— but he did rush to the bathroom to grab the leftover gauze and hydrogen peroxide to fix you right back up. Maybe Luther won’t notice the difference in medical dressing quality.

#nyen ranfren x reader #nyen catman x reader #nyen x reader #ranfren x reader #✎

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deception-united · 3 months

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It's me again. Are there proper ways of writing fight scenes that flow well? And are there ways to make fights feel realistic without feeling like it stops the story in its tracks? How do I find the middle ground between realism and injury healing times?

Thanks for asking!

Maintaining realism in fights while keeping the story flowing smoothly is crucial for engaging storytelling. Here are some tips to achieve that balance:

Integrate fights into the narrative: Make sure that the fights serve a purpose in advancing the plot or developing the characters. They should feel like a natural progression of the story rather than an interruption.

Character motivations and stakes: Ensure that the characters involved in the fight have clear motivations and stakes. This adds depth to the conflict and makes the fight feel more meaningful to the audience.

Use variety in fight scenes: Avoid repetitive fight scenes by incorporating different fighting styles, environments, and tactics. This keeps the audience engaged and prevents the story from feeling stagnant.

Show the consequences: Realistic fights have consequences, both physical and emotional. Show the aftermath of the fight and how it impacts the characters and the story moving forward.

Balance action with other elements: Don't let the fight scenes overshadow other important aspects of the story, such as character development, dialogue, and plot progression. Maintain a balance between action and quieter moments to keep the story flowing smoothly.

Keep it concise: Avoid prolonged fight scenes that drag on unnecessarily. Focus on the key moments of the fight that are most relevant to the story and characters, and move the narrative forward efficiently.

Incorporate tension and suspense: Build tension and suspense leading up to the fight to make it feel more impactful. Use pacing, foreshadowing, and strategic placement within the story to heighten anticipation.

Make it believable: Research fighting techniques and strategies to ensure that the fight scenes are realistic and grounded in reality. Avoid overly exaggerated or implausible actions that may break immersion for the audience.

Finding the middle ground between realism and narrative pacing in injury healing times and recovery can be challenging but rewarding for maintaining both credibility and story momentum. Here are some tips:

Research: Understand typical healing times for various injuries. Medical websites, journals, and consultations with healthcare professionals can provide valuable insights.

Consider context: The severity of the injury and the overall tone of your story will influence the healing time. A minor scrape will heal quickly, while a major wound would naturally take longer.

Character abilities: Take into account your character's physical condition, age, and any supernatural or futuristic elements that could affect healing. A trained fighter might recover faster than an ordinary person, while futuristic technology or magical abilities could speed up the process.

Plot demands: Sometimes, the pace of your story might require injuries to heal faster than they would realistically. In such cases, consider adjusting the healing time while maintaining some level of believability.

Show the process: Even if you need to speed up the healing process for narrative purposes, acknowledge the injury and its effects on the character. Show them experiencing pain, discomfort, or limitations even as they recover.

Use time skips wisely: If you need to compress healing times for the sake of pacing, consider using time skips or transitions to indicate the passage of time without dwelling too much on the healing process itself.

Balance drama and realism: Strive for a balance between dramatic tension and realism. Injuries can provide opportunities for character development and conflict resolution, so consider how the healing process can contribute to the narrative arc.

Persistent effects: Even if a character's injuries are on the mend, they may not fully heal before the story's conclusion. Implementing this in your writing involves ensuring that the injury continues to affect the character in some way, whether it's physical discomfort, limited mobility, or psychological trauma.

Plot hindrance: Use the not-fully-healed injury to hinder the character's progress or add tension to the plot. For example, if the character's arm was injured in a fight, they may struggle with tasks that require the use of that arm, such as wielding a weapon or climbing.

Pain and discomfort: Continue to reference the injury after the initial healing period. Describe how the character experiences pain or discomfort, particularly in situations that aggravate the injury. This could be triggered by specific movements, weather conditions, or emotional stress.

Character growth: Show how the character copes with their lingering injury. This could lead to moments of vulnerability, resilience, or resourcefulness, allowing for further character development and depth.

For more tips on writing fight scenes, see my previous post!

Hope this helped ❤

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#writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #fight scenes #deception-united

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 11 months

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Part 3 - If you could’ve seen

Dp x DC: Regent!Jazz, Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 2

“If you could’ve seen how I looked yesterday, a hopeless disaster, but I’m getting better at being faster.” -Never Look Back by The Nearly Deads

Jazz wasn't so proud to admit that she had many regrets about her life choices.

Taking the Crown was a fine line between terrifying and glorifying, with the many scars and callouses Jazz now bore from the hours of training (at Pandora's behest) a misgiving that was required for the sake of survival.

Hurting her little brother was the heaviest weight on her chest.

It hadn't been that Jazz meant to cause Danny pain from escaping Amity Park, but he'd already died there once from the portal and almost a second time when her parents the older Fentons captured Phantom in a thermos and strapped him down.

They had crossed a line, the point of no return, and Jazz was done trying to fix her broken family. The moment they cut into Danny while he screamed "I'm alive, I'm alive!" was the renouncement of their right to their own lives.

Jazz had enacted Vengeance for her little brother, the hero in death he shouldn't have had to become. For all the Unquiet Dead and Neverborn ended by the Fentons.

For her lost childhood. For her lost humanity.

Slash, slash, slash went the Regent's sword. Blood spattered the walls of the lab, mixed with the ecto already there from a fight for one's existence.

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already.

Frostbite would later, admist the ice and snow of the Far Frozen, that as a Liminal Jazz had triggered a rage state due to both her emotions and her unintentional ecto-starvation.

It wasn't enough to absorb it from the environment anymore, not with the Crown and summoning her ecto-sword. She would have to consume raw ecto to replenish her levels and diminish the chances of another blackout rage.

(Frostbite and Danny would never know that Jazz was fully aware of her actions.)

(She just didn't care anymore, Danny was more important.)

Danny had healed over the few months they were in Gotham, his incision wound now a grotesque Y-shaped scar over his scrawny chest that would never fade. His ecto-levels were improving with constant exposure to a natural portal, corrupted as it was, and slowly he was gaining back his sense of self.

Jazz didn't talk much anymore, but Danny was all too happy to argue with her- about her ripping him away from his haunt, killing his parents, his friends, and going out as a vigilante almost every night.

(As she had guessed, Danny was relieved that the Joker was dead and not a ghost.)

(He'd never know that Joker had returned as a ghost, but the Regent crushed his core before he could even form words.)

(Both Sam and Danny approved of her trophy though.)

At the other end of Crime Alley, tucked away in a safe house, Jason Todd was dying.

Well, so he thought, as his heart ached in his chest and beat so fast it could almost rip itself from his rib cage.

(If he was a lesser man, he might’ve gone crying to Bruce for help, but not in this life.)

Jason had collapsed on his bed in full gear, sans helmet, as the pain began to wrack his body. Was he truly dying again?

(He wasn’t ready to. Not again.)

And to think his night started so well.

He’d woken up a few minutes before his alarm went off, the hazy dregs of sleep trying to lure him back in, back to the rather nice dream he’d been having.

(Feminine build in bloody armor, a teasing grin, soft lips against his own.)

He didn’t even have patrol that night, his one day off a week he could just relax as Jason, not Jay Peters or Red Hood- only for it to be ruined by the emergency alert on his phone announcing that his murderer had broken free again.

Fucking Joker.

Old familiar rage simmered low in Jason’s gut, but much to his surprise, his vision didn’t tint neon green. No haze of being on the verge of a blackout rage at the mere thought of his murderer.

Nothing.

(What was going on?)

It wasn’t as if the Pit Madness could just be gone, right?

Right?

(Jason Todd was no a fool, the Madness was still there.)

(Just… sedated. Like it didn’t need to boil to the surface anymore where it concerned his murderer.)

And for the first time in a very long while, Jason felt like himself again.

Until the agony began.

A/N:

{I swear I try writing something that’s not angst for once and this is what I get. Great. Well as long as someone likes it, right?}

{Oh and sliding in an AU for Jason too! Not Halfa!Jason, because I’m not a particular fan of how I would write it. But something more akin to what he was when he dug himself out of his grave pre-dip in corrupted Ectoplasm ala League of Assassins.}

#dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc #jazz fenton #I tried writing something more positive and this is the result #more angst for the pile #yay #at least we have the mounted clown head right?#and Jason POV!#Jason is a… trope.

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adventuringblind · 4 months

Text

Mend Me

Lando Norris X Reader

Genre: Magical Realism via Superpowers (kind of), A mix of fluff and angst

Summary: After a long history of being running and hiding, she finds someone who isn't afraid of her. Enough to risk it all for him. Feat Oscar and Carlos being a chaotic duo for once.

Warnings: A tad dehumanizing (if you really squint), mentions of hospitals, mentions of blood/wounds/weapons/bruises, reader literally bring someone back to life,

Notes: This is incredibly experimental. I like these kinds of AU's that incorporate racing still. It's fun to see different concepts come to life in a normal world! I'm currently working on a few A/B/O fics and a few other experimental things :)

Side Note: and another request! I had so much fun writing these two and this story in general! I'm hoping to write more like this, or for these two specifically, in the future!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

This is not the life she envisioned for herself. The running, hiding, forging papers to try and keep herself safe.

Stupid unnatural abilities that she never asked for. A danger rating that started at three and moved up steadily as these abilities expanded. Classified within a unique group that tends to be more isolated due to their nature.

A healer is what her new papers say, a danger rating of five. Her armband required across the globe remains the same color. Unassuming and weak, which is how she needs to be perceived.

Powers, abilities, magic, auras, whatever you want to call them, manifest in different ways. Some are element based, some a material, some deal with things like the mind and soul. Smaller groups include shapeshifters, psychics and mediums, shadow work, and her own group.

Those who deal in life and death are not to be messed with. The healers and the reapers. Which, you would think wouldn't be dangerous. She was lucky enough to not be sentenced to a life in captivity. The reapers can decide who dies when, if they are strong enough. Usually prompted by the healers if they person is out of reach. It's a peaceful passing. Yet that doesn't stop people from fearing that kind of power and control.

No, she's a healer. Lower levels are kept as doctors and nurses. Knitting wounds together, feeling the pain of others, being able to x-ray a body without a machine, are all useful.

Raising people from the dead? yeah, that tends to freak people out.

Her wound transference started small. A scraped knee on a friend became her own, but without a mere itch. Soon it progressed into deep lacerations which bled less on her and healed faster. Then it was bigger injuries like broken bones and concussions.

Training was required for anyone with abilities. In order to see where they fall in rating, where they can be utilized, and make sure they have control over the chaos.

She spent ample time in the local hospital with the other healers. The paramedics had rushed inside. The body nearing death. They flatlined, mangled in different ways, yet she still managed at the age of sixteen to bring them back.

The amount of pain she was in was nearly unbearable. She'd almost killed herself in the process.

Her rating shot up to seven after that and she was whisked away to a facility for people like her. They moved her up to nine after another year. She'd managed to bring back someone who'd been dead at least a day.

She's a necromancer.

Whatever she is, they all knew they couldn't stay in that place. Inevitably escaping with their combined powers. She'd never run so fast. She was provided new classification papers and sent off to a different country.

Which is how she found herself here. Traveling and healing despite the prior adversity. She likes this job, specifically because she's strong enough to manage drivers and personnel in the paddock who hurt themselves with their own abilities, but not enough to look conspicuous. Which is a fine line she's toeing, but she makes it work.

She has regulars. Max Verstappen frequently asks her to come around. Metal tends to slice him when he's not grounded and specifically more agitated. Lando has a tendency to hit himself in the head with things when he's excited and the telekinesis decides he needs something right that second. Carlos shapeshifts into a bear, which comes with its own set of problems (she didn't know she'd have to be a vet, also). Then there is Alex, who always seems to be summoning feral street animals.

The year she started; she was nineteen. Lando and Carlos were teammates then. The Brit a in his sophomore year of the sport. The number of bruises on both drivers was ridiculous due to Lando randomly pushing and pulling random objects was ridiculous. Carlos even joked he might have been doing it on purpose at the time.

It was 2021, and the encouragement of Daniel, that got him to ask her out. An invitation she accepted. It was nice, but there was that lingering fear in the back of her mind that he would figure her out and turn her in.

A night out in 2022 is what changed everything for her. The ability to trust and a longing for connection driving her to spend the night with him.

Now, her suppressor band is strong enough that she's only supposed to wear it for twenty-four hours maximum. She'd put it on when she woke up the morning prior and hadn't taken it off sense. Lando had asked if she wanted to take it off, let their energies meld together. A privilege only people like them have. But she'd declined and he hadn't pushed.

She slept in. The best sleep she'd had in a while, mind you. Yet the pain firing through every nerve of her body had her crying. She hadn't cried in pain in so long. This was entirely new to her, and if she's honest with herself, terrifying to experience.

~~~~~

Lando stirs beside her. His hands cup her face and eyes scan her body as he attempts to understand what's wrong. She's unresponsive and he panics. Enough to call Carlos and ask if it's something to do with her classification of power. She could've overdone it, or it's the residue of a different injury she took on herself. Whatever the case, he needs help.

"Lando, mate, she's a five right?"

"Yeah? why?"

"Suppressor bands for five and up tend to be stronger than four and below."

Lando pauses for a second. "Aren't you a seven?"

"And I take mine off in intervals." Carlos' explanation makes sense. Enough for Lando to calm himself and locate the chain on her wrist. "Just take it off and see if it helps. It might not be immediate though so give it about ten minutes and then call me back."

"Thank you, Carlos."

"Not sure what we'd do without her. Maybe kill ourselves? So, you better keep her alive, mate!"

Lando ends the call. Her body seizing in his arms in a scary kind of way that makes him want to vomit.

The chain doesn't come off easily. The second he manages to unclasp it; she becomes deadweight in his arms. But he doesn't get the kind of relief he is hoping for from it.

The aura she has around her is strong and intense. The kind he's never felt before. It's not nauseating like when Carlos or Max is high on emotion, this is serene. Like he's never felt better in his entire life. Which is strange, considering how strong it is...

He calls Carlos back. This cannot be normal for a five. The fact he has it off, but she's sweating and gripping his hand like she's in turmoil makes him wonder.

"Did it work?"

"Uh - possibly?"

There is a brief pause. "What does that even mean?"

"Okay, so, energy of a five healer, is it supposed to be this intense? Cause I feel like I'm on cloud nine and she's still in pain." He wishes he could reverse it, just get her to settle and not look like she might die until he can help her.

"I'm coming over."

It takes Carlos too long to get to his room. His anxiety is getting worse by the second. She's finally exhausted herself enough to fall asleep, but her energy is still permeating the room in a way he can't describe.

Carlos nearly falls over when he steps inside the door. "You like this?!"

"I feel fantastic!"

"Well good, we know you have a soulbond now. We'll talk more about that later. I'm going to pass out if she doesn't have a suppressor on."

Lando whines, but he knows Carlos won't last like this. He just hopes something reset and bought them time to figure it out. He puts the chain back on her wrist and Carlos immediately looks better.

"Verdict?"

"She's not a five, that's for sure." He inspects the chain and her arm band. Carlos' own brown band is still around his bicep. The shapeshifter colors. Lando's is yellow for the energy category, Max's is red for the secondary elements, and Alex's is brown with a green stripe in the middle for the animal handlers. Her band is white with a black ring in the middle, the reapers are the opposite. The number attached to her band is a five. It's the same as a legal document.

Lando snatches the band off of where it lays next to his own. Sure enough, when he flips is around, A different number is crudely patched over enough that nobody could make it out unless staring for an obscene amount of time.

Lando hands the flipped band to Carlos. "She's a fucking ten."

Carlos hums and examines the elastic in his hands. He then fishes a suppressor ring out of his pocket and switches hers for the one he brought. The energy is still there, but the Spainard doesn't look like he's going to be sick anymore. Lando claims this as a win.

On the other hand, he can't fathom why she didn't trust him enough to tell him. "I don't understand-" The crack in his voice is embarrassing.

Carlos gets him to sit down next to him on the edge of the bed. He places Lando's hand on her shin and they watch the tension she was holding in her body disappear.

"Have you ever seen how the treat anyone six and above?"

"No... you never talk about it."

Carlos sighs. It's a pained one; eyes distant as he recalls memories. "Fives toe the line of being stronger than the people deem safe. These universal numbers used to classify us aren't just for the amount of energy we exert, it's what we can do as well. I shapeshift into a bear, which can be destructive, but I can also do it with fewer breaks and for longer stints."

"What does that have to do with any of this?" Frustration now evident.

"Relax, I'm getting there." Carlos gives him a pointed look and quiets himself. "Six and above tend to have more restrictions. They want to make sure we can't cause any chaos or start wars or something. Reapers are immediately labeled as tens. Healers start small but increase depending. I met a good few back in school that ended up being taken away for some unknown reason."

"So, she's a ten, meaning she can do what?"

"I'm not sure... but she is definitely at risk if anyone were to find out."

Carlos stays with him. Explains to him what is probably happening due to the extreme suppression of this kind of energy. He explains this soulbond thing. How their energies mesh well together which is what was giving him that euphoric feeling earlier. It's not rare, Lando is only a three himself, but for her it is because of the intensity.

It's around midnight when she wakes up, panting and drenched in sweat. Whatever these higher energies are, the seem to communicate for them. Carlos gets next to her and switches the suppressors again. He's giving her the familiarity in a stressful situation with no words.

"Fuck - Lan, I'm so sorry!" Her voice is hoarse and cracked. He wants to tell her that he's fine, that he understands, but words aren't there. Not when she looks this sick.

He opts for the physical contact route instead. The gentle kind, so he doesn't scare her. This hug feels different than any he's had before, but he assumes it's because his aura is actively seeking hers. "We have a soulbond. Our energies mesh together quite nicely."

"So, you know now? You're not going to turn me in?"

"Absolutely not! Carlos has been giving me a crash course and everything. I'm sorry that you are treated so horribly..."

She grips onto his shirt and sobs harder than she has in her entire life. It's broken, and Lando can't help but wonder when the last time somebody cared for her and her abilities alike is. "I'm not leaving you, okay? I might be a three, but I'll do my best to keep you safe." And he means it. He has every intention of keeping her out of the clutches of those who would see her locked away.

~~~~~

Lando convinces her to quite working under the FIA and let him take care of her instead. She still attends to the drivers since she can, because she wants to.

It's never a surpise when she receives a phone call from across the paddock asking for her assistance. It's more fun this way, not having the constant pressure of people watching her for any semblance of too much power.

Carlos keeps a close eye on her when she looks on the verge of overexerting her power or suppressing for too long. He had her and Lando set alarms for when to take it off and put it on again.

2023 comes around, and both her and Lando are more relaxed this year. Car wide, the Brit would rather die, but otherwise, he's fine.

Oscar is a rating six water manipulater. Carlos makes sure he knows where to find him if he ever needs anything. The FIA tends to get on the case of higher ratings.

It's because of that rating that Oscar manages to figure out she's not what she says she is. Lando gets wildly defensive when the Aussie brings it up. She just laughs when he threatens to throw his teammates dinner into his face.

They all get along nicely. Lando manages to not send random objects at Oscar despite various threats, and she still finds herself in every garage.

Then Vegas happens, and everything changes.

The crash replays on the screen, but she can't hear it over the sound of her heart. Their soulbond had only gotten stronger, she can feel his pain and discomfort now because of it.

As an established healer, Jon lets her tail him to where Lando is. The medical team only lets her go so far.

But it's worse than anyone is letting on. She can feel his heart slowing, the internal bleeding more than they originally thought.

He's still alive when the race ends, but he won't be for much longer. They won't let her inside. Oscar and Carlos can barely get past the front desk to where her and Jon are sitting outside the door. Doctors are still working away at a problem they haven't found yet.

"They won't let you in?" Carlos gives a look of utter confusion. "Wouldn't it be helpful to them?"

"Yes, but I'm too emotional to be in an operating room as a five."

Oscar's face lights up. "How far does your energy reach?"

"Decently, why?"

"If me and Carlos take our suppressors off, then we can blame the energy on that."

The three of them take off their suppressor in unison with Jon watching the end of the hall in case someone comes around the corner.

The wall makes it hard to navigate. But she knows Lando's aura like it's her own. She's mapped his entire body, healed him more times than she cares to remember.

The flatline of the moniter rings through her ears.

She finds his heart. Where he's bleeding out, where his ribs are cracked and splitting him open.

And she fixes it.

Lando sits up on the table, heat beating erratically, but he's alive. The doctors don't know what to do with themselves.

They open the door. The only one there is Jon, teary-eyed, but not from sadness despire what he says.

~~~~~

Lando is high on painkillers. Though he wishes his human healer were here to make it better. He just wants to meld with her, thank her without words.

Jon had filled him in on the details. It's not safe for her at the moment, but his teammate has her, and Carlos is on his way back to Lando after helping get her settled.

The Spainard drives him back. Even stopping for food on the way since none of them have eaten and Carlos has this perpetual need to store food for the winter. Lando always gets him honey as a joke.

"When you see her, don't panic. There's blood we have yet to clean up from the incisions they made. But it's mostly just pain and exhaustion."

Lando nods and opens the door. The sight is odd, more so than scary. She's on the bed, pale, and covered in different fluids. Her mouth is open, and Oscar is dripping tiny water droplets inside. Her supressor bracelet has been ditched, but her ring is on so the other two can be around her.

Her eyes drift towards him the closer he gets. "Lan!" She tries to sit up but fails after two seconds and yelps in pain.

"If you'd just take the water and stay put, then you might not be in as much pain." Oscar scolds her, but she just rolls her eyes.

Lando crawls onto the bed next to her. His hand drifts over where he heart is, and he places her hand over his. "I'm alive because of you. I can't - I just - I don't understand why they didn't let you in. You're not dangerous. You saved me."

"Lan, it's okay... I'm happy being considered dangerous as long as I have you around."

"Ay! What are me and Oscar then?!"

"Rivals, according to the media." Oscar muses and drops another bead of water into her mouth.

"That was planned and executed well, okay, we make great rivals." Carlos nearly jams some kind of pastry into Oscar's face, but he opens his mouth just in time. "What am I going to do with you three?"

Lando doesn't have the energy to ponder the question. Him and his lover end up falling asleep at some point. Both of them are still in pain and in desperate need of rest.

He wakes up to a call the next morning from Jon. His trainer is adamant about speaking to all four of them.

Yeah, they all get lectured about how he had to go get tested and was humiliated by the hospital staff when they laughed at Jon's own ability. "Aparently, making people sneeze isn't an ability. But I'm happy you're okay, Lando. I would've missed you, buddy."

"I second that!"

"And a third."

Everyone looks at her expectantly. Some kind of response swirls around in her head. Maybe witty or sarcastic with the way she's smiling to herself.

"If you died, Lan, I would've never forgiven myself." Her energy taps on his. It envelopes them, warm and comforting. Their bond still growing stronger as their souls dance together around them.

"Gross, you two should get a room."

"This is our room!"

"Your point?"

Carlos and Oscar can't stop their laughing fit. Delerious from the long night they had previously and little sleep then managed to get. Still, Lando goes back to being in his own world.

He's wrapped up in her, and she's wrapped up in him. Exactly as it was intended to be.

"Reckon you could make an undead army?"

"Osc - I swear to god-!"

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fairy-heart-magic · 11 months

Text

More Dragon Slayer Headcannons

Uhh holy shit the last one blew up like crazy, so here I guess have more dragon slayers being creepy.

Because they have more air in their lungs they can hold their breath for a stupidly ridiculous amount of time, they’re also excellent swimmers.

They have really dense bone structure but hollow air filled bones so they’re all extremely sturdy, they also have much denser muscles which leaves them unnaturally strong.

The more they use their dragon slayer magic, the more dragon like they become both in physical appearance and personality as over time it starts to slowly show up in their personalities, they become territorial and protective of what they deem to be ‘there’s’, they growl at people as a warning to back the fuck off, they bear their teeth as a sign of aggression, as for the physical their eyes will take on an unnatural glow, Natsu’s becoming orange like embers glowing in the darkness, Laxus’s become electric yellow, Gajeel’s become like brownish rust red and so on, their teeth become longer even the way they walk and carry themselves becomes more inhuman, they way they fight becomes like that of a beast only not wild, extremely intelligent and cunning to a frightening degree.

They naturally seek out their own element, almost like a honing instinct, Laxus tends to travel towards storms, while Natsu often travels as much as he can to hot places where fires are likely to start, Gajeel always visits a city’s junkyard, Rogue always finds his way to dark, pitch black caves while Sting always climbs to the highest sunniest peaks he can to bathe in the light, Wendy frequently visits high up or isolated mountains to be closer to the sky.

Dragon Force effects more than just their magic, it also effects their personality and they can become almost completely different people entirely retaining only their base most present thoughts from before hand with their instincts often telling them to do one thing only; defeat whatever enemy is in front of them.

They’re also in part nocturnal which is both inherited from their magic and because it was how they where raised, while it varied from dragon to dragon, most preferred to hunt and move at night-time due to the fact less humans where active at night and they could see perfectly well in the dark which made avoiding humans easier. Both Laxus and Erik are also semi-nocturnal because of this and most dragons slayers find it difficult to sleep at night as their brains are hard wired to be active during the period most humans are sleeping. The only acceptation to this is Sting who while he can use his magic in the dark, it doesn’t work nearly as well as it does in the day time.

They heal at an incredible fast rate, almost double the spend of a normal human. Though they can’t regrow limbs or anything like that, this incredible healing ability makes it easier to survive severe injuries and wounds. Laxus however using electricity can stimulate the cells in a particular area to heal even faster than other dragon slayers however overusing this technique leaves him severely exhausted and if he used it too much he’ll overload his entire nervous system and just collapse.

That’s about all I can think of for now, I hope you guys like them and feel free to use or reblog if you want.

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mousy-nona · 5 months

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All of God's Angels p. 4/5

Where Lucifer's healing powers are...woefully inadequate, Alastor finds his freedom chained for a second time, and Lucifer considers selling his soul to win over a demon who may or may not be his fated companion.

NOTE: Things finally get heated in this one.

Link to AO3

All parts up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53800450/chapters/136173307

As soon as Lucifer’s hand met Alastor’s, a flash of neon light flooded through the room. Their palms vibrated, pulsing with an ancient eldritch power that etched their vow in stone. It was made of old magic, the kind that slumbered deep in the fabric of reality, out of reach of the Christian faith. Even Lucifer, whose flesh had been forged by the Almighty’s own two hands, wouldn’t be able to escape its bonds easily.

Alastor practically sizzled with cosmic charge, his head falling back in pure ecstasy. The small noise he made in the back of his throat went straight to Lucifer’s core, and he shifted to hide his rather – uh, inappropriate reaction. Thankfully, Alastor was too out of it to notice.

“Will you let me look at your chest now?” Lucifer grumbled.

Flashing him a trademark smile, Alastor fell back onto his blood-soaked pillows and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt so it fell open, revealing more than just his gaping wound. Lucifer pointedly kept his gaze trained on the deep gash. He most definitely didn’t need to think about the smooth, toned skin tantalizing him out of the corner of his eye.

Even though Lucifer was moving as slow as possible, Alastor still stiffened when his fingers met his bare skin. Lucifer ignored his obvious discomfort and forged on, letting his eyes flutter shut as he searched and searched for that glowing part of him that he’d left behind so long ago. His wings unfurled, casting six looming shadows over the bed.

“Not getting any younger over here,” Alastor quipped.

He shushed him. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, okay?”

Think back. Back and back and back, when being good came as naturally to him as breathing. When his hands knew how to heal, to bring warmth, to call forth life. Even fallen, he was still an angel. Surely he hadn’t forgotten–?

Just as despair was starting to creep in, he felt something pure brush against his consciousness. Deep in the recesses of his soul, holy light called out to him, gentle and kind. With a sigh of relief, he called it forth, letting the golden vigor coat his palms as he pressed it against Alastor’s wound. Alastor let out a muffled grunt of pain. His back arched and his muscles went taut as he fought against the holy war being waged inside his body.

“Breathe, Alastor,” Lucifer murmured, unable to resist brushing his free hand against Alastor’s sweat-soaked cheek. “Stop resisting it.”

“Good advice,” Alastor panted, his eyes growing wide as the first few droplets of golden power started seeping out of his chest. He broke off with a distressed growl as a particularly large chunk dislodged itself from his wound. “I am not sure…why I didn’t think of that,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Hush,” Lucifer shook his head. Of course Alastor would be insufferable to the very end. Why wasn’t he surprised?

The last remnants of Adam’s infection flooded towards Lucifer’s hand. Alastor relaxed, his body going limp, his breathing coming easier as his wound started to knit together. Demons healed fast, much quicker than humans did, but Alastor seemed to be faster than most.

There were only a few drops left now. These were the purest, most concentrated bits, and Lucifer strained, bringing every last wave of power he could muster to try and pull them loose. But they refused to budge. His own holy light was too polluted to attract them.

Panting, he finally let the healing warmth recede back into his soul.

“So?” Alastor asked. He was watching him curiously, his expression bright and focused. Now that he wasn’t half-dead, his searching gaze had a vicious ruby glimmer to it. His eyes danced, as if he was secretly laughing at a joke that only he could hear. No doubt at Lucifer’s expense, of course.

God, he’s beautiful , Lucifer thought. Then he slammed a steel wall down on his stupid idiot of a subconscious. He so did not need this right now, not when Alastor was watching him as if he was finally seeing him.

“I…I couldn’t get it all out.”

Alastor stilled. His eyes went blank. “What?”

“The holy power – I pulled out as much as I could, but some of it was too holy. It wouldn’t listen to me.”

“What does that mean?” Alastor bit out. Violence simmered around his edges. Lucifer had the distinct sense that he was seconds away from ripping his throat out with his bare teeth.

“It means…for the time being, you’re going to have to live with some of it in your chest. At least, until I can figure out a way to get them out for good. Until then…” Oh boy, he was really not going to like this part. “You’re just going to have to meet with me every now and then to lance the excess infection out when it starts slowing you down.”

The silence was absolute. Alastor had turned into a statue.

“You’ve chained me. You’ve chained me to you,” Alastor muttered, his eyes wide with shock. His claws ripped out a tuft of his own hair in despair, his other hand hovering above his newly healed chest, twitching wildly, as if he was itching to rip the tender skin apart. And then, so softly Lucifer almost missed it, he whispered, “This cannot be happening again.”

“Alastor –”

“ Fuck .” The blast of power that ripped from him shook the building to its very foundation. Lucifer winced as he was showered in dust and plaster. Alastor whirled around, staring at Lucifer with the wildness of a beast with its leg caught in a trap. “Undo this. I call on my favor. Heal me fully, without these strings attached.”

Lucifer shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that. Injuries caused by high-ranking angels are hard to heal at the best of times, and you got hit straight in the chest.” He found himself reaching for Alastor, to try and ease the blow the best he could. “It won’t be forever, just –”

“Just for the unforeseeable future? Pray tell, my good man, how is that any different?”

It wasn’t. Not really. He looked away, unable to lie to someone who would see through such hollow assurances. “It won’t be so bad. Once a month, maybe twice, tops. It’ll take all of ten minutes each time.”

Alastor let loose a bitter, feral laugh. “Oh yes? And shall I bring along an offering on my monthly pilgrimages, so my dear king does not tire of my presence and leave me to die?”

He flinched at the insinuation. “I would never do such a thing.” Not to you .

“Ah, but you could! And that is the issue, I’m afraid. It is now your choice whether I live or die.” He bared his teeth, shadow tendrils appearing by his side. “This is what we in the business would call an unacceptable condition .”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t gotten yourself blown up by that annoying little pipsqueak, you wouldn’t have found yourself in this mess in the first place!”

A second too late, Lucifer realized his mistake. The only thing Alastor hated more than being trapped was being disrespected. And he had just done both in the span of a few minutes.

“ What did you say ?”

The world glitched. The room strobed red, then green, strange symbols bursting like fireworks at the edge of his vision. Lost beings whispered in his ears, jazz music crackled in the background, going in and out of frequency as the world swirled and swayed. They were in the bayou; then they were not. They were in a regular bedroom with a desk, a chair, a bed – then they were in darkness, the roars of eldritch beings, the cr-cr-crack of bones their only company.

Lucifer hurried to defend himself. “What else was I supposed to do, leave you to die? If there was another cure, I would have used it! Newsflash asshole: I’m a fallen angel! There’s only so much I can do when it comes to holy energy!”

The darkness flickered, and like the switch of a light, the comforting four walls of Alastor’s bedroom reasserted themselves. Alastor tapped his chin, his red eyes alight as he stared at Lucifer. It made him nervous. What could he be thinking about now?

“Now that you mention it, there might be something you can do to make things right,” Alastor said.

“And what could that be?” Lucifer asked warily.

“You could chain yourself to me in return. An obligation for an obligation. A life –” he grinned, holding out his hand, claws sharp enough to rend the heavens. “For a life.”

Lucifer blanched, stepping back to create a bit of distance between himself and the certified madman. “You’re talking about my soul?”

“No need to be so scared. You know, there’s nothing quite so intimate as a chain,” Alastor mused. On cue, green chains tinged with shadow sprung from his fingers and wrapped around Lucifer’s shoulders. They solidified for a moment, bringing him in close – but not close enough to touch. Alastor’s sharp smile was a heartbeat away, filling his entire vision. The demon was furious . “It’s a marriage, of sorts. After all, what could be more binding than a promise to heed another’s call, no matter what it may cost? You’ve never truly known union until you’ve tried it.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Lucifer spat. “Do you really think your pathetic sales pitch will work on me?”

“My dear king,” he purred, his voice low and dangerous and filled with promise. “Are you telling me you’re not even a tiny bit curious?” He paused, his smile turning mocking. “You’ve never once feared anything, have you?”

Lucifer frowned, a little confused by the sudden change of subject. “Can’t say I have,” he said, unable to hide the prideful note in his voice.

“It shows. You are the single most careless being I’ve had the misfortune of meeting in either of my lives,” Alastor sneered. “You wear your emotions on your sleeve. You don’t care about who might see what you’re really thinking. You angels. So convinced of your own immortailty,” he hissed, almost pityingly. “Do you want to know what I think?”

Lucifer did not, in fact, want to know what he thought.

“You’re practically begging someone to look at you. To pay attention to you. To care for you. Well, your Majesty, it’s your lucky day – it looks like you’ve got me on a leash now.” The chains tightened painfully around Lucifer’s shoulders, crawled up his neck and pulled tight. He gasped for breath as Alastor drew so close he could feel the heat radiating from his body, clashing with the ice cold grip of the chains. A dizzying cocktail of smoke, chicory coffee, sharp evergreen, and a musk that was uniquely Alastor filled the air between them. His mind went blank.

“Let me go,” Lucifer said, but there was no real force to it. Alastor smirked.

“You’re not fooling anyone with your damsel in distress act,” he purred. “Push me away, if you hate it so. Spear me in the heart. Finish what your compatriot started.”

He couldn’t help himself. Lucifer leaned in – and grasped nothing but shadow. Alastor re-appeared on the other side of the room, a few feet and a million miles away. He was staring at him with a hatred so deep that Lucifer felt it in his bones.

“Do you want me?” He asked simply.

Lucifer said nothing. That was answer in and of itself.

“Well…it seems you know the price.”

#alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer

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tangledbea · 16 days

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Rapunzel's healing incantation turns back time right? So that must be why Gothel turns old again after some time of not using her magic. In that case, Eugene's hand injury should also come again right? And his stab wound also.... 😳

But clearly in Eugene's case the injuries and wound don't come back. So how does it work exactly. Or is it just a plothole?

So, here's my theory on that: We know that Gothel was hundreds to thousands of years old. I think that, when she first started using the flower, she aged at an almost normal rate. So she went from an old lady to a young one, and at first she aged naturally. But the next time she used the flower, she aged a bit faster, and then a bit faster, and then a bit faster as the years went on.

At the time of the movie, she seems to age faster when she's stressed out, and it's implied that she has Rapunzel heal her every day, as soon as she started showing signs of aging, like wrinkles, grey hairs, or spots on her skin. But at the beginning of the movie, we saw that she allowed herself to get quite old before she used the flower. But now that she has access to it every day, she uses it every day.

So I think that Gothel's overuse of the magic for hundreds of years is what really did her in in the end. She was already living on borrowed time, and when the hair was cut, her lifeline was cut.

Eugene, on the other hand, had only been healed once for his hand at that point. That meant that he was good to go, unless he naturally injured it again. Also, aging is a natural occurrence that happens to everyone, while a cut on the hand was an accidental thing that not everyone can expect at some point in their life. Gothel was reversing the aging process while Rapunzel was speeding up the natural healing process for Eugene.

Also, I know the lyrics of the song are "make the clock reverse," but the text of the movie is that the magic heals, not reverses time. I think that's meant to be more metaphorical than anything.

#Tangled #Mother Gothel #Eugene Fitzherbert #Healing Incantation #Analysis #Headcanons

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randomwriteronline · 4 months

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"Come with me," Gali said suddenly, and took her hand: "Come with me, I want to see something."

Kiina was so stunned by the feeling of her hand (the cuts in the protodermis so deep and plastic, like wounds stuck in time never to be healed fully, and the smoothness of a metal that wasn't that cold to the touch, just like most organic things) that when the saltwater lapped at her knees it was like snapping awake from a dream.

The Toa had surprised her as she was looking out into the ocean. She'd missed it so much, she had joked nervously, and now that she had it back she wasn't even sure she remembered how to swim!

Gali had laughed with her: she would have been glad to teach her, she'd said in the same easy tone.

"Right now?" Kiina almost hollered in her face, trying to pull back.

The gentle hold on her palm did not budge: "It's an experiment," Gali replied - they were talking about completely different things, but she couldn't know the Glatorian was still dwelling on her offer - as she guided her deeper into the waters like a female Nokken: "I want to see something. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

She struggled to babble something, and by the time the faint idea of a sentence had formed in her mind she was tiptoeing on the sand to keep her head above the waves.

"Wait," she sputtered at last, "Wait, hold on, it's- I told you, it's been a while since I was back in--"

"It's alright, I've got you," Gali reassured her. She was warm, her touch having the same consistency of ocean water if ever so slightly more forceful: her fingers were interlaced with Kiina's in a strange, playful manner, like a kid sharing a secret. "I won't let anything happen to you. Now just take a deep breath, come down with me, and when you see my mask glow try to breathe normally."

Come down with me, she said.

And breathe normally.

"Under the water?"

The Toa only smiled and sank into the waves, her mask melting completely beneath them.

Kiina waited for a moment more as she searched for her to no avail, trying to tell her apart from the vibrant blues surrounding them; at last she turned her eyes to the vibrant aventurine sky, inhaled as hard and as loud as she could until her lungs felt about to burst, pursed her lips tighter than she could, and sank.

The weightlessness enveloped her like an old blanket.

Tajun's waters were sweet and thin, made for satiating thirst and washing away sand, but they had never managed to sustain her in their hold like the heavier currents of the ocean she had waded through when she was only a girl could.

Hadn't she had this exact dream before? Again and again, comfortable and warm and safe, hoping to awaken to something other than an endless beach with no end in sight.

When she opened her eyes the salinity burnt them, making her blink hastily to ease them.

Through her blurry vision she stared right at Gali.

She smiled at her through her bright mask.

Her voice was magnificently clear when she spoke: "Try to breathe."

Kiina exhaled without thinking. She watched her breath disappear upwards in ugly bubbles a little dumbly; at least, she reasoned momentarily, in one of those bursts of lucidity that comes at the most inopportune times, she had the good sense of breathing with her mouth instead of her nose. At least she would just get a disgusting gulp of saltwater instead of clogging her nose with it.

But the water flowed in and out of her lungs without hurting, clear and easy - just like air.

She inhaled again, and again through her nose, this time, first deeper and then faster each time, looking down at her chest: rise, fall, rise, fall, no pain, no tingling no effort, as naturally and as easily as though everything was just normal, as though she were still on land.

She looked up to meet glowing eyes radiating a smile.

"What?" she asked.

Her voice turned garbled for a moment in the water, but smoothed out quickly as the sounds left her.

Gali simply laughed. She leaped through the water like fish, a mermaid, swirling around Kiina in a mesmerizingly fluid spiral motion out of herself with joy.

The Glatorian struggled to find her gaze again in the whirlpool of her happiness, finding herself overwhelmed by her speed and ending up spinning in place like a top; when both of them finally stopped she pointed at her throat, flabbergasted: "Are you doing this?"

The Toa nodded giddily.

"But I - how? Is it, is it your powers?"

"Of course!"

"You can do this?"

"I can!"

"With your powers?"

"Yes! Yes, with my--"

"You - I didn't know! I didn't even imagine you could- you can just - make water breatheable? With your elemental power?"

At that, Gali stilled. She cocked her head slightly, for only a second, and then she laughed again - a transparent laugh, crackling and tingling with mirth, crashing out of her chest and into Kiina's: "Oh, no! No, no, I can't do that, it's my mask!" she explained as she kept laughing heartily.

It was a powerful sound, befitting an ancient and seasoned warrior such as herself; it was a stumbling, excited sound, like that of a kid having too much fun to stop despite her stomach cramping.

Kiina felt faint.

"Your mask?" she repeated.

"Kaukau," the Toa nodded, "Mask of Water Breathing."

"What would you need it for?"

"We have lungs too, don't you know?"

She blushed furiously: "Well, I - we assumed, since you're- the- you lot don't really look like you would have them, what with all the - the metal- protodermis bones, and - and - don't laugh!"

Gali did not answer: she merely raised her shoulders defensively, innocently, hiding her quiet chuckles within them.

Her demeanor reminded Kiina of someone, a young aunt of hers - the daughter of a man who'd been like a grandparent to her ages ago; she had the same sweet air of mischief about her, the same sort of glint in her eye, the same playful tension as though she was about to dash away at any moment to lose herself in a crowd, hiding in plain sight. The last time she'd seen something like it again after the Shattering had been in a rookie who hadn't survived the first night through the desert and whose armor she had sold off after finding her bones picked clean.

She had been pretty.

Maybe.

A hand grabbing onto hers stirred her from her musings.

"Stay close," Gali told her, and that was all the warning she was allowed to have; in a second she was being dragged further down, down, to the faraway sands of deeper submerged beaches.

The light formed strange columns above her head, moving much like graceful silken curtains; the waves muddled the sky's view, allowing only momentary holes through which vibrant blue canvases could peek down at the two beings sprinting towards the reefs.

"Wait-" Kiina gasped "-Wait, wait - you'll pull out my arm like this!"

Before she even realized it her arms were wrapped around a metal neck in a tight hug.

"Better?" Gali asked. Her voice smiled.

"Better," she wheezed back, barely audible.

She could feel every twitch of her exposed muscle against her skin, how the smooth protodermis pressed onto her biceps. When the Toa resumed her fluid rush downwards Kiina was pulled back by inertia, and the mechanical throat pulsed against her wrists.

There was so much she had almost forgotten. The fish, for one; so many, of so many colors, in so many shapes, alone or in swarms, each with their own swimming pattern - and the angry clacks of clams and molluscs as they passed them by, the scuttling beasts squirming beneath the sand or those retreating in their little caves along the rocky formations growing taller the deeper they sank. A few curious shrimps kept them in check with their bulbous eyes before hurrying away, little legs scurrying across the waters while they waves their long whiskers at them as if crossed - in a way that reminded one of Whenua, and one of Strakk. They both laughed about it quietly, each to herself.

Corals crept towards the surface in honeycomb formations, red hues pulsing warmly as the light hit them, and large leaved kelps caressed the reefs in ondulating movements as the tides swept over them gently. Thinner algae covered rocks in a sort of fuzz the color of petroleum: sea sheep and other slugs treaded through them at a surprising pace compared to their land-dwelling cousins.

Would they have tasted the same?

She shook her head, nuzzling Gali's nape. This wasn't the time to think of food.

Her attention was turned to the side by a gentle tug at her elbow to look at a large creature, a being whose name she did not know, that blindly flew past them whilst carrying a small school of tinier fish beneath its vast belly: she watched them struggle to flutter their little transparent fins in an attempt to match its speed as it barely moved a muscle, gliding through the currents with enviable ease.

Suddenly the Toa turned, twirling on herself horizontally with a vibrant sound similar to a whale song; Kiina fumbled for a moment, letting go after only a couple rounds of spinning as she struggled to get her bearings again. When her brain settled still once again in her skull, she was laying on nothing, looking upwards, and had to blink quickly before she was blinded by what at first she thought were fallen stars - because the sunlight filtering through the waves turned Gali's yellow eyes into glowing plasma, clear and hot and glowing stronger than anything.

She realized, numbly, that the Toa was floating right above her.

"I missed this," she confided in her, mask close to her face, with a crystalline voice full of excitement.

Kiina stared into the lack of pupils: "Me too," she grinned, breathless.

They laughed quietly.

"Ah - you must have missed this much more than me," Gali mused; her body floated upwards until it was perpendicular to the ground, holding onto the Glatorian by the hand, fingers interlaced with hers. "I forget it's been so little since I last was in these waters... And yet it feels like ten thousand years."

"Only ten thousand?" Kiina chuckled.

"It's a lot for me! I've been awake for so little!" the other whined. What a strange sound to hear come out of her mouth. The unusual nature of her own reaction made her shake with an electric giggle.

The Glatorian allowed herself to snicker with her: "You talk just like a kid," she teased.

"You're the first to accuse me of such a thing."

"Who else could have? Your elders - the Turaga? What are they, twenty years older than you? Thirty?"

"I am older than them!"

"By what, two weeks?"

A rogue tide swept her head up in itself, tussling what little hair she had that wasn't buzzed exactly like an annoyed kid would; despite the commotion she cracked open an eye to see Gali squinting at her in the spit image of a pout, and she laughed harder.

It didn't take long for the Toa to join her.

She looked just like that rookie. All bright eyes and broad shoulders, warm voice and slender hands. Power and grace, levity and strength. A certain impatience that made her muscles leap excitedly.

Armor that would have rusted in the desert, sanded down by the dunes, abandoned beneat the sun.

Memories of a beloved ocean.

"Let's elope," Kiina said. Then again, louder, smiling wider as anxiety stirred in her chest painfully: "Let's elope, you and I!"

"You and I?"

"Just us! Across the ocean!" and she kicked at the water, pulling herself over the Gali, interlacing their fingers tighter: "Breathing won't be an issue, and neither will food or sleep - we can swim through the whole ocean, just us! Visiting reefs and following schools of fish and-"

"And pods of whales!" Gali interrupted her.

"Yes!" Kiina cried out: "And we can find islands! We can find islands, or sunken cities, and explore the depths, and, and chart new shores! We can swim all the way to the other end of the planet!"

They were caught in a small cyclone now, swimming in a circle that trapped them within its vortex as they spun more and more, feeding one another's excitement more and more as their excitement grew, louder, louder, promising the moon and the stars and the sun and imagining a life without strife - just water, water, water, colorful fish swimming around them, an endless world to discover, endless, covered in anemones and algae and corals and kelp upon reefs and sands, scuttling with claws and thin legs and curious eyes, shimmering with scales and thin slivers of light above them...

She went limpand allowed the water to move her, heaving breathlessly as she grinned hard enough to make her face hurt.

Yellow eyes gleamed at her.

She held tighter onto the protodermis hands.

Gali laughed louder; the top of her mask, scratched and weathered, pressed against the Glatorian's forehead.

Her heartlight was beautifully bright.

Kiina felt like she might have died.

"I should tell my brothers first," Gali said, grinning, still elated. "They would tear me a new mask if I disappeared so suddenly."

Water flowed in her lungs.

For a moment, she was drowning.

"Yes," Kiina agreed finally, still smiling, body slack, "Yes, Ackar would never let me hear the end of it. And for all he might say otherwise Berix would bawl his eyes out so hard he'd end up shriveled up like a dried sand plum."

The Toa giggled: "Ah, of course, of course," she nodded. "And Hahli would never forgive me, either - off to the sea? Without her?"

Her tone ripped a laugh from her companion: "How dare you."

"Exactly," she continued, so amused. The tint of sadness in the voice speaking to her was lost on her. "And Macku too - oh, no, no, I'd have to bring along all of Ga-Koro. They would be capable of following us the whole way on the worst raft you've ever seen just to chew me out for not inviting them all to come with. Oh no, no - oh, it would have to be a whole expedition!"

Her laugh was warm and sunny, so genuine, so entertained.

She understood the bindings of family, like she understood the call of the sea, the longing for its weightlessness, its colors, its terrible taste that left a throat parched and rough.

She understood love so perfectly, deeply, powerfully well.

But not like this.

Not like this.

Maybe just not yet.

But not like this.

Not now.

Kiina tried to move her legs idly and found them turned to lead.

She understood love so well.

But not like this.

"We'd have to get a ship," she mused. Her hands sank into Gali's. "A real one with sails and motors and a beautiful lady on the front. Haven't been on one in a while. Could be fun."

"A lady on the front?"

"Of course."

"What for?"

"For decoration."

The Toa blinked, baffled: "Why would you want that?"

"That's how it was on old vessels."

"But why?"

"Why not? Can't a ship have a beautiful lady on the front?"

Her thigh had floated upward like a piece of lifeless wood. It brushed again the other's armor, and the contact stung like a sand bat's bite.

"You make a fair point," Gali chuckled.

Kiina smiled at her.

Hopefully he didn't look too sad.

"Here, here," the Toa said suddenly, collecting her in her arms with a newfound hurry: "Let's go back now. I've kept you here long enough, your family might be worried."

"It's fine," the Glatorian fought weakly, though only with words. She watched, passive, as her limbs were placed around the mechanical body once more, as her frame was molded to embrace the beautiful being again. "It's fine, there's still time. I like it here with you."

Gali smiled at her - so, so sweetly: "I like it too. But it's better to go back now."

Not answering, Kiina wrapped herself tighter around the mass of muscle and protodermis. Her face nuzzled against the metallic nape again, eyes shut, as they left behind the world of her childhood, of her momentary fantasy, to reach the surface again.

She did not see the heartlight stutter confusedly at her contact; but after all, Gali did not either.

#bionicle #gali #kiina #random writing #bittersweet sapphic content delivered right to your door #unclear if its unrequited or not bc i Dont Know Either #what i do know is that kiina is Down Bad

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madeholyy · 1 year

Text

you choke on your words, but you swallow them faster ; leon kennedy / reader

you had always been afraid of the dark

[ requited love, yearning, hurt/comfort]

You had always been afraid of the dark. Of how it swallowed everything whole like a starving wolf. Your mother always told you that Boogeyman didn’t exist, but he didn’t have to. They ask you how it feels to be so brave. It hurts, it hurts. Because you weren’t brave, it was a facade you wore like a prayer. What was a girl to a God? A sacrificial lamb, a beautiful martyr. He, ever so unkind, left you to rot in the dark each time it nipped at your heels like a herding dog. Your girlhood died where the moon’s illuminating stream of light met taunting shadow. Your place in the world was fragile at best and carnivorous at worst. Or perhaps that was your pessimism hanging off your shoulders worn like a cloak. Cynicism you kept locked away deep inside the barren cavity of your chest as if it was the only thing holding you together. Has fear made you a harsh critic? You had always been hungry for the mundane, the average; a sense of normalcy.

You wished to be ruthless like Persephone, but you were much too soft. The Underworld was not your home; you had lost that long ago. Your mother wove kindness into you and your father his tenderness.

But this wasn’t about the way you were enlaced with benignity to the marrow of your bone. It was about the way your thoughts consume you and steal from you. The way the ocean churned and crashed against the rocks below steep cliff sides. And how you wished you bled ichor when God gutted you open from navel to throat like your intestines ached for breath. The lingering pieces of girlhood clinging to your person for life and finding none. You were the embodiment of tragedy crafted by human hands; a byproduct of what happens when someone takes what doesn’t belong to them.

Leon was not unlike you. Perhaps that is what attracted you to him in the first place. He was tenderness veiled beneath bruises— oh, how vibrantly black and blue— not even time could heal. Your wounds sung a similar tune, fitting together like a puzzle. The current he pulled you in with was inescapable, but you hardly wanted to call for help from the shore. Especially not when those impeccable blue eyes held your gaze with such intensity. His stare beheld a harsh winter, but summer peeked out from behind dark pupils with all the warmth it could carry. His reputation preceded him.

There was a question constantly hanging off the tip of your tongue. Can I come home to you? It rattled against your teeth with its overwhelming presence. Especially the night Leon’s lips stood a mere inch from yours with his breath fanning over your face. His pupils blown and his eyes staring into yours as if you’d disappear if he blinked. A moment ago he almost lost you to the same God he abhorred with every fiber of his being and now you stood before him with the same gaze he was watching you with. Oh, how he ached. His fingertips itched to run them through your scalp and pull you closer. How could I ever say no to you? He would reply back if you ever so dared to finally ask him. But he merely stepped back and walked away as if he wasn’t about to take you whole. You forgot how to walk after.

And you always thought he was invincible. Like nothing even divine could touch him because he would walk away with only a scratch. But you were mistaken. The dark tendrils dancing along underneath his skin in place of his veins frightened you; reminded you of his mortality. You had always been afraid of the dark, but what you should have been afraid of was losing him. And it hung heavy in the air throughout your mission. He was all flesh and bone and borrowed time. Leon was human and humans bled.

Now it was your turn to ache. It came to you like second nature, like breathing, like loving him. Would if you could reach your trembling hand into his chest and rip the parasite out from the depths of his ribcage. You’d hold it in your bloodied hand and squeeze until it bursts. But perhaps your anger was misplaced. It merely performed its duty based on instinct and survival with naught a word of influence spoken in its ear. It would not exist without the aid of another locating a host. The true catalyst was just beyond their grasp. This, however, did nothing to alleviate the anguish and resentment. They were already branded in your bones.

Then Leon would give you that look. The one that cushioned your heart like he was cradling it. It would send a flutter of emotions in your chest with the intensity of his stare. Your face would soften, the hardened expression relaxing into exhaustion and worry. The way you looked back at him threatened to crush his guarded exterior. He would reach over, slow like you were a frightened animal, and gently caress your supple cheek with a gloved hand. Then the dam broke. The tears overflowing from grieving eyes, the struggle to contain the oncoming tidal wave. His hand, his glove. His everyday scent was replaced with something deeply earthy, deeply dreadful. Your own hands cup the one holding your cheek with a gentleness you’d seen in small doses, tiny peeks like morning sunlight through curtains. There was no exchange of words and no need to. These hesitant touches you both partook in said more than mere verbalization ever could.

There was always a lingering wish to be more than this. An unspoken pleading that bounced between your longful gazes. But for now you’d settle for the smaller moments shared in times of reprieve.

When he did speak, his tone was unfamiliar. A warmth blossomed in the hollows of her chest.

“I know.” And he did. He always did. Confirming it was just his way of keeping those three words at bay when they threatened to spill from your swollen lips. Leon didn’t want to hear them because he knew if he did he would give in and he wasn’t good enough for you. You shook your head and inhaled a shaky breath. Leon bit the inside of his cheek and leaned forward only to rest his forehead against yours. You couldn’t have him. He wouldn’t let you. No, Leon was war torn and splintering at the edges. He was meant to be swallowed by the sun, meant to be incinerated to mere ashes. His life was not his own.

The next time you found yourself shadowed in darkness, you felt empty. The unknown lurking beyond your field of vision around castle walls did not chill your nerves. Nor did they cause the hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. You were alone, but you discovered a fear greater than the one before. And it scared you even more.

#my works #i guess this would constitute as a dabble??#maybe not bc its 1k words lol #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy imagine

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maxineryx · 6 months

Text

Before you continue, I have came to inform you that this includes anime and manga spoilers (chapter 236 onwards). Thanks for reading :)

—————————————————

In a Field of Sunflowers

After a long, exhausting fight, Yuuji finally has a chance to rest in your warm presence.

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x reader

Wc: 1.8k

Warnings & tags: death, blood, regret, self-hate, hurt/comfort

An earthy aroma stuck in the air as multiple patches of tall and bright sunflowers stretched across the green meadow. A light breeze played around with the flowers and grass, slithering around anything in its way. There were a couple of trees that surrounded the meadow, but they were only a tiny speck compared to the ginormous grassy hills in the distance, overlooking and shielding the land in front. The green land was completely covered in yellow, and the clear sky above looked almost dreamy, a very nice shade of blue and a tint of purple. It was entirely devoid of human nature, as if it was an undiscovered place yet to come across.

That was until a bright ball, whiter than the whitest snow, brighter than the sun, appeared out of thin air amidst the sunflowers, slowly growing and reshaping itself to what seemed to be a person. Once it was done, the ball was long gone, and there was now a boy, with a slightly translucent body, as if he was still adjusting to the scene. The sunflowers that surrounded him twinkled and glowed happily.

However, he was anything but happy.

He was none other than Yuuji Itadori, who had a deep wound piercing his abdomen. Although he was in a peaceful setting, blood trickled from the wound, from his nose, and mouth. His clothes were ripped in many places, revealing old and new scars on his body, and his already bruised fingers were still curled into fists. The flowers around him appeared to have noticed his raging demeanour and slowly cowered, returning to their dull yellow colour. Yuuji’s eyes were full of hatred as he froze completely, looking around, taking in the scene surrounding him. His ragged breathing gradually regulated, unclenching his fists. He looked down at his wound, blinking in confusion at how it didn’t hurt when his cold fingers came in contact with the injury. The breeze from before came back, dancing with his hair, calming his heartbeat down. That’s when he took a step, and then another, not necessarily knowing where he was heading, but something in his mind told him to go onward.

Yuuji trudged through the thick patches of yellow, the sunflowers brushing against his dirtied clothes, legs about to surrender due to exhaustion. Then, as he spotted something peculiar in the distance amongst the flowers, his eyes widened as one thought raced through his mind. However, it was too impossible to believe yet. He moved forward again, but this time even faster as if the weariness was never there to begin with.

There he stood motionless, staring at the person in front of him, and he had to blink a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t his eyes deceiving him.

It was you. Staring up at the dreamy blue sky with a carefree expression, sitting on the soft grass with yellow flowers surrounding you. This was definitely a dream. And as much as he wished it wouldn’t be, Yuuji was certain it was one. Just another one of those dreadful nightmares disguised as dreams.

And that's when you turned your head towards him and the breeze slightly ruffled your hair but he still thought you looked beautiful nethertheless, dream or not. He had many dreams of you before, and somehow all of them had their own versions of how you looked like. Sometimes you were short, sometimes tall, sometimes you had green eyes, and sometimes you had no eyes at all.

Your eyes, these eyes, twinkled as you studied him, scanning over his deep wounds, and in an instance they were gone. Yuuji stared at his stomach in awe. Now it all felt so real, too real for it to be a dream. Although you managed to heal his injuries, he could see how your eyes flashed with concern. Then you smiled genuinely, and turned your head back to the scene laid ahead of you. You took a deep breath.

“I knew you’d come.” You spoke softly, looking down at the sunflowers that waved around in the breeze, “It started to get lonely out here.” He remained silent, eyes wide open and full of doubt.

“[Y- Y/N]-“ Yuuji took a deep breath, “This can’t be real— Sukuna is playing with me again.”

“No, Yuuji. It’s me, [Y/N].” You sighed, a pang of sorrow filled your heart at how much he must have been through when you weren’t there, “Thi-“

“Take me back.” He cut you off and demanded. You froze. Perhaps he was still unsure if this was the real you.

“Yu-“

“They need me- I was already too much of a burden, I can’t let anyone else die because of me.” His voice cracked and fresh tears rolled down his face, lip slightly quivering. Your heart broke as he continued to speak, “I can’t let Sukuna win. He has to die-“

“Yuuji.” You stood up and moved your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks, wiping the tears away with your thumbs. Then, you moved your hand to the back of his head and brought it down so that he could cry into your shoulder. And he did. His spare hands that dangled loosely found their way to your clothes, gripping onto you as if his life depended on it. You whispered to him, “Ask anyone you want, and they’ll tell you the truth. You’re not a burden. You’ve done so much to help everyone. I’m so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.” He continued to weep until his eyes could bear no more, moving his face slightly away, gazing tiredly into your loving eyes. You took his hand gently in yours and sat down on the soft sunflowers with him, the sun above you shining brightly.

Yuuji turned to you and brought his healed hand to your face, yet so gently as if he was afraid of damaging you, because his hands were a murderous weapon. “You are real…”

You chuckled, feeling how your heart skipped a beat at his touch. “I am.”

The sunflowers watched this exchange between two lovers and danced with happiness.

“I missed you.” His voice cracked as he looked down, recalling all the memories, “I missed you so much that sometimes I’d cry at night because I slowly started to forget what you looked like. Sometimes you’d visit me in my dreams and when I woke up I felt even worse. I wanted to see you, touch you, feel you again.”

“I know.”

You then patted your lap, signalling Yuuji to lay his head down, and so he did, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair. You two sat in silence, only accompanied by the vibrant flowers and the delicate breeze.

There was so much that you wanted to tell him. For a few days, weeks, months, you don’t really know, you’ve sat and watched him as his heart gradually grew colder soon after witnessing your death, and all the others. It pained you too much to see him like that, the traces of his bright personality and smile long gone, yet knowing that if you hadn’t died so carelessly perhaps even a little of his old self would still be there.

You had fallen in Shibuya, not long after Nobara did.

In front of him.

You could still vividly remember his shocked face, hearing his heart shatter into pieces and his broken voice as he called out your name— if you had gotten more time then you would have told him those three words but you were already long gone.

And when you opened your eyes, you were met with the breath-taking view, but if you hadn’t just died, perhaps you would have payed more attention to it.

Angry, tired, and upset, you wandered around until you spotted Nobara, who was also sitting in the same exact spot he had found you later.

You squeezed her so hard, and the both of you cried out of happiness.

Then, one by one, other sorcerers, close and not so close to you, showed up, until there were so many that you grew irritated. Irritated because Yuuji was still fighting, him thinking that he needed to fight until he had Sukuna’s head. Irritated because you just wanted to see him, to be in his presence.

After a few weeks, everybody left the sunflower field and headed together into the forest, hearing that there was a peaceful village past the land of dark green. Only you were left. The others offered you many times to come, yet you insisted on staying and watching your boyfriend fight. You couldn’t even leave, praying and hoping that his pain would soon be over. And as soon as it was, you awaited his presence, a little nervous, and fresh sorrow deep in your heart.

You knew that he changed, hell, you even faced the possibility of him not loving you anymore, or knowing that you’d never get the old Yuuji back. It pained you so, but you'd do anything for him, even waiting for him, no matter how long. Because you loved Yuuji Itadori so much.

But now you’re pretty sure he still felt the same towards you, with the way he looked up at you from your lap, with love and tears in his eyes as you continued to run your fingers through his slight dirtied hair.

“Um… did you…” He started, blinking tiredly as your fingers worked magic. “Did you… did you see the others…?” You immediately knew who he was referring to by his quiet tone, and you chuckled because this was the same old Yuuji, asking if his close ones were okay before caring about himself. It seemed that your touch and voice slowly managed to soften his heart again and calm the raging storm in his head.

You nodded. “Junpei, Namamin, Kugisaki—“ He sniffled, bottom lip quivering as you continued to say their names. “—Fushiguro, Gojo… and everyone else… they’re all here. Safe. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

There were tears streaming down his face, and you leaned down, pressing a sweet, feathery kiss to his cheek, talking to him soothingly and healing his heart ever so slowly, but efficiently. The boundless bright sun shining proudly above, happily as you looked up at it, the tall flowers that surrounded you swaying from side to side.

And when you looked down again, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of your adorable boyfriend sleeping so peacefully, gentle breaths escaping past his lips, and you hoped that he dreamt of only nice things. Even though you knew that his normal youth was already long gone, that you wouldn’t be able to fix it, one thing you did know was that you’d always be there for him whenever he needed you. This time there was nothing that could have disturbed you two.

“Sleep, Yuuji.” You whispered, caressing his head gently. “It's your turn to rest now. I'll be here when you wake up.”

————————————

A/N: After watching the new eps, and reading the manga, I realised that the actual villain is Gege. And so, for all the Yuuji lovers, I hope I eased your pain with this fic, there will be more along the way.

#itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen

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that-one-vangogh-painting · 5 months

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‼️Blood under the cut‼️

Finally posting some details about one of my D&D characters--Foxtrot. Apologies in advance, this is gonna be a long one. He's partly a Watership Down oc because I can't make a Harengon character and NOT make everything about Watership Down, so for anyone who isn't familiar with the conlang in that book I'll put translations for every Lapine word I use! I won't go into too much detail about everything, partly because no one wants to read that and partly because my D&D party follows me here and there's still a few secrets I want to keep.

Foxtrot's Lapine name is Homba-Suíl (pronounced "HOM-bah shool"). Homba means fox, but since there isn't any Lapine word for "trot" or anything similar I took the Gaelic word "suíl," meaning "speed" or "movement". I've always felt that Lapine sounds like it needs to be spoken in an Irish accent, so it only made sense to draw inspiration from that language. His name is meant to mean "speed of a fox," which is actually an insult from his mother (rabbits are of course much faster than foxes), who never saw any potential in him when he was born.

Foxtrot is albino, making him naturally disadvantaged because he has poor eyesight and his coat makes it hard for him to hide. He's also a very small rabbit, so everyone in his warren always expected him to die pretty early. Ironically, despite the name he was given, Foxtrot grew up to be the fastest runner in the warren. This caught the attention of the chief rabbit Marlirah (MAR-lee-rah, "mother queen"), who invited Foxtrot to join her owsla (military force, similar to a king's guard). He was the youngest and smallest member of the owsla, and the other officers didn't take kindly to him being there </3 Foxtrot didn't really get upset about not having any friends though. He was completely and totally devoted to Marlirah, and as long as he had the chance to serve her he was the luckiest rabbit alive. All of the rabbits in the warren practically worshiped Marlirah, but Foxtrot had a particular love for her because she had believed in him when no one else did.

One day during a particularly brutal battle, Foxtrot received a devastating head injury, and woke up to find that he had been separated from Marlirah and the rest of the officers. His memories were pretty scrambled, and he spent the next year or so wandering around searching aimlessly for the others. He doesn't remember most of the period after waking up. The party found him sometime during this wandering period, after his wound had mostly healed but his amnesia was still very present.

Now my little level two fighter has to fight vampires with these crazy jackasses. Oh how the times have changed.

#van draws #original character #dnd oc #d&d oc #oc art #dungeons and dragons #watership down #oc

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iamcautiouslyoptimistic · 8 months

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Call of Duty Werewolves🐺 - Part 2!

{Author's Note} Since y'all loved the first part so much, here's a second for you to enjoy! I've included more lore and some cute werewolf snippets for each of the characters I mentioned in the first post so hopefully I managed to write them all accurately. I'll probably do a fic for one of them at some point so let me know who you'd like to see! Thank you for all the love and please feel free to write/ask for more headcanons for this AU! I'm having so much fun with it❤️ Happy Halloween! 🎃🧟‍♂️👻 >Call of Duty Werewolf AU -> Part 1 >Shadow Company Snippet by @http-paprika -> SC Werewolf AU (she's also writing her own werewolf AU fic so go give it some love👀)

~ ~ ~

>Werewolves have fangs in both forms. The human canines are replaced by longer, sharper teeth when natural werewolves lose their baby teeth. In bitten werewolves, the human canines are pushed out within their first month of being turned. While in human form, only the sharper tips are visible, resulting in fanged smiles (just imagine your favorite boy flashing you a fanged grin👀). When transforming, the teeth extend from the gums as the muzzle forms.

>Werewolf hair and nails grow faster and are usually thicker, requiring more frequent trimming, especially after a transformation.

>Werewolves heal faster than their human counterparts. Cuts heal in a few minutes, broken bones take days rather than weeks. Most tissues can be fully regenerated, except for entire limbs. The canine teeth will always be replaced if lost.

>Bones and muscles are thicker and heavier than those of humans, resulting in increased strength and stamina.

>Werewolves digest meat more easily than humans and prefer carnivorous diets. It's healthier for them to consume more meat on a regular basis.

>Werewolf senses are far more acute than humans'. They have great night vision and colors are more vivid to them, as if the saturation has been increased. Their enhanced hearing, however, can be problematic and a werewolf will often have to learn how to tune out certain sounds so they're not completely overwhelmed. Scent is also important to them as it denotes health, emotional state, and belonging. Familiar smells offer comfort, whether they belong to people, places, or things.

>While transformed, werewolves can't really speak. The fangs and muzzle tend to prevent intelligible human speech. On the other hand, their unique vocal cords allow for animalistic grunts and growls, even in human form.

>Transformations will always be painful for both werewolf types. With practice, the process can become smoother and faster but it will always have a pinch, especially as the face changes. Heightened emotions can trigger the beginnings of the change, though it takes a conscious effort to completely transform, unless a werewolf is suffering from moon blindness. Bitten werewolves tend to be more reactive but transform more slowly as it takes longer for their bodies to get used to the shift in comparison to natural werewolves, who are specially built for it from birth.

>A werewolf's transformed state is so dependent on their human traits that they don't always look very wolfish. Some can look like coyotes, foxes, or even bears because of differing body types, features, and hair colors.

>Poisonous to humans, wolfsbane also has an adverse effect on werewolves. It clouds their senses and prevents them from transforming but it won't kill them. It's often used to control a werewolf and keep them in line. However, it can also be mixed into a poultice to treat wounds caused by silver.

>Silver causes mild allergic reactions in werewolves. It only becomes fatal when enough of it pierces the skin and enters the bloodstream, which is why hunters lace their weapons and bullets with silver. Despite this, many werewolves still revere the metal for its association with the Moon.

🌙 🐺 🌙

💲Price is the fluffiest. His iconic beard remains when he's transformed, making him easily recognizable, though he has been mistaken for a bear in the past. If you laugh at that fact, he'll simply huff in feigned annoyance and lay on top of you to prevent you from escaping. Being a natural werewolf, not only does he have more hair but Price's transformations are about as easy as they can be so he'll often use his time with you to relax and catch up on sleep. He sleeps the most soundly when you're cuddled into his chest or back, your face pressed to his fluffy mane. He loves hearing about how much you love his fluff and secretly takes pride in it.

💀Ghost is the biggest. As a 6'4 mountain of a man, he's even larger when transformed. It'll take some getting used to, especially when he transforms in your living space. If you try to make the area more comfortable for him, he'll be especially grateful for your effort. More than anything, he'll just want to be close and feel your touch. His body aches after he transforms and he's more easily overwhelmed so the gentleness of your hands helps him settle into this second shape. No matter how many times you've seen him transformed, he'll always feel some degree of shame around you so make sure he knows just how adored he is.

🧼Soap is the most playful. His transformations tend to energize him rather than exhaust him so expect him to be bouncing off the walls for a bit. If you match his energy level, he'll never let you go. He'll want to chase you and wrestle around but he's hyper-aware of his own strength so any change in your attitude will make him settle down. Once he's burned through that extra energy, he'll just want to listen to you ramble about anything that comes to mind, even if he can't really respond.

🧢Gaz is the sweetest. In the field, he’s known for his level-headedness and clever quips. When he gets home, he’s nothing but a big softie with you. His favorite place to be is in your lap, his wolfish head snuggled against your stomach as you card your fingers through his hair. To know that you accept and love this side of him warms his heart and he'll let you know just how happy it makes him with plenty of cuddles and kisses. He absolutely loves hearing you giggle and does just about anything he can to get that reaction from you.

🦿Alex is the most sensitive. All werewolves tend to be very in-tune with their surroundings, especially in the military, but Alex is even more so. His job as a secret agent of sorts has honed his ability to pick up on the tiniest changes in his environment and, when it comes to you, he's even more aware of your reactions. A slight change in your scent or heartbeat will immediately have him hurrying to your side to check in. More often than not, he can tell if he's actually needed but you're always grateful for his attentiveness and respond with a reassuring hand to his head or chest so he knows you're alright. When you're not, prepare for some inescapable werewolf cuddles.

🪦Graves is the most stubborn. As the Commander of Shadow Company, one of the most notorious groups of werewolves around, he's used to getting his way. When it comes to you, however, he tends to give in far more easily, especially so when he's transformed. A simple scratch around his ears or under his chin will make him melt in seconds and he'll never be able to resist when you run your fingers through the sandy blond hair covering his neck. The usually snarling and snapping werewolf commander will want nothing more than to hold you close, peppering your skin with gentle kisses and warm huffs of breath. Just don't let his Shadows know or he’ll withhold his cuddles.

🐺 🌙 🐺

*BONUS: Werewolf features! Thought it'd be fun to do short descriptions of how I imagine the boys! This includes height, eye color, and hair color for each of them. Pretty straightforward lol

💲Price - 6'2" -> 7'2" ; blue eyes ; brown hair w/ strands of gray

💀Ghost - 6'4" -> 7'4" ; brown -> yellow-amber eyes ; dirty blond/brown hair

🧼Soap - 5'10" -> 6'10" ; blue eyes ; dark brown hair

🧢Gaz - 5'11" -> 6'11" ; dark brown -> orange eyes ; black hair

🦿Alex - 6' -> 7' ; blue -> silvery-gray eyes ; light brown hair

🪦Graves - 6' -> 7' ; blue eyes ; sandy blond hair

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alex keller #phillip graves #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty au #cod au #werewolf au #werewolf #werewolves #lycanthropy #Ren's writing #mine mine mine

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