#like you know the only reason that man is still alive is spite right

[rebelliousstories]

Magical Relationships

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader, Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Reader (Platonic)

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by @oh-prettylady

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 1,466

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: He had spent so long looking for her, only to find that she was closer than ever suspected.

Consider Donating: Here

If there was one thing that Gambit always asked for whenever he could, it would forever be a relationship of his own. He had seen Jean and Scott fall in love, witnessed Beast try himself; hell, everyone he knew had tried. But for some reason, Jean and Scott were the only ones that made it work. But Remy wanted that. He wanted his own lady to call his, to love, and to spoil. When he came back from a mission one day, he got his wish.

A beautiful girl around his age had shown up with the Wolverine. She was shy, only sticking near the burly man, and not speaking to just about anyone. But she was gorgeous, sweet and kind. Her ability to transform into any animal she wished never ceased to amaze Remy when they were in the danger room.

Slowly but surely, she began warming up to the other, but not Gambit. She was still hesitant around him, refusing to say more than a few words to him. It threw the Cajun for a loop the first few times he tried to flirt with her.

“My, my, my, chere. Ya face would look so much prettier up close, ya know? Just close enough for a kiss perhaps.” This caused her to flush red.

“How’s about you and me go and paint the town red tonight, chere?” She turned to Logan for help who kindly told the man she was off limits.

“Oh, I’m feelin’ awfully weak, chere. I hear ya kisses are magic though. How’s about one for ya patient, yeah?” Turning to scamper off was her course of action for this.

Each time he tried to flirt with her, she refused. Maybe he was coming off too strong for her. He knew very little about her backstory when she came to the school. So, Remy decided to switch tactics. He tried to bond with her over something, anything. But they seemed to have very little in common. But he was desperate to have her talk to him in any way they could.

After a few weeks of this, Gambit made very little leeway in his attempt to talk with her. It was not until Logan decided to go off on his own again that he finally got a break. This was not how he wanted it to start, but it was how it happened. Remy had found her staring out of a window towards the road in the school on a day off for them.

“You miss da Wolverine, chere?” He asked quietly. She got a bit spooked, jumping in her seat, and went to leave.

“No, no. I didn’ mean t’ make ya scared. I can leave if ya want.” Holding his hands up, Gambit tried to make himself appear as non threatening as possible to the woman. But what she did next shocked him.

She shook her head, and patted the sot next to her in the window. Waiting, Remy tried to see what exactly she meant, which was met with her patting the spot once more. At her insistence, he made his way over, and slumped down into his seat.

“I just really miss him, you know?” She began, still staring. “He took care of me when I had no one around. It’s hard being without him, not knowing where he is or if he’s alive.”

“Oh, chere. Don’t worry ‘bout it. The Wolverine will come back soon. Besides, I’m pretty sure that man lives purely off of spite, so he be fine.” Remy tried to comfort the girl, but only felt like he was causing her more discomfort.

“You’re right,” she spoke after a brief silence, “Logan will be okay. He’ll come back.” Looking out the window, she looked towards the road once more before turning to the mutant to her right.

“I love your eyes, by the way.” This time, it was Gambit’s turn to be bashful. His face blushed something fierce as he turned away from her. He could only hope that she did not see what was happening to his face, or the smile that appeared on his face.

“You flatter Ol’ Gambit. Ain’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” He stammered out, hoping that she would let it go. But to his fortune, and mis. Fortune, she did not.

Her giggles rang out through the small nook that they were tucked away in, and Gambit turned to face her fully. Even he was not immune to her infectious laughter. Soon, he was joining her in his own deep chuckles that boomed out next to hers. After a few minutes, they began to wind down. And as he looked over at her from across the windowsill, Remy thought something to himself.

This might just work out.

After that night, it was like a flip had been switched. Instead of constantly being shy, and running away from the Cajun, she had begun to enjoy his company. She was enjoying a cup of tea with him in the morning while he made his coffee. In the evenings, she would make a bowl of ice cream for each of them to enjoy in front of the fire in the main study room.

And all through this, they grew closer. Remy’s flirting no longer made her anxious, it excited her. She still had yet to get over her blushing and shyness when he did so, but she was no longer running away which he considered a win in his books. Gambit so badly wanted to properly ask her out; it burned within him. But he had to contend with Logan coming after him.

Oh, he was well aware that the Wolverine would just give him the tough love act, but that did not make it any less intimidating to ask her pseudo-father for permission. It also did not help that the man was currently somewhere that they at the school could not reach him. So for the time being, Gambit was sticking to making her blush like a school girl at every chance he got.

Remy loved the challenge of getting her to blush harder and harder each time. Sometimes, it was the fact that it was in front of the other team members. Other times, it was because of what he had actually said. One particular instance stands out better than the rest.

“Chere, jus’ need t’ ask ya somethin’. Will you Brie mine?” Remy drawled out as he leaned against the counter. Storm, Beast, and Cyclops were sitting at the table nearby and actively listening to what was coming next.

“Don’t you ever get tired of thinking up different pickup lines to use on me?” She teased back, finishing her making of food at the stove.

“Ain’t no trouble to the Gambit if he has t’ think of you. So whatcha say?” There was quiet laughter coming from the table nearby.

“Can I at least have my breakfast first?” Her tone was teasing, even if her words were annoyed.

“Never too early to start the greatest love story ever.”

“Sometimes it is.” The laughing stopped. Gambit stopped in his tracks, and was afraid to turn and face the voice behind him.

“Logan, you’re back!” Her plate was quickly abandoned in favor for wrapping her arms around his neck. His own found a home wrapped around her back before they pulled away.

“Missed me, kid?” A smirk toyed at the edge of his lips.

“Maybe a little.” She admitted; a smile of her own forming on her lips.

“Now, what was this I hear about you wanting to ask the kid out, Cajun?” Logan near growled in his low-rumbling voice.

“Now, Mon Ami, jus’ remember is just Gambit.” He stammered out, holding his hands up defensively. The Wolverine placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop what he was saying immediately.

“Treat her right, or you’re turning into a kebab. I’m going to unpack and go to bed.” Passing the girl on his way back to his room, Logan gave her one last pat on the shoulder and left. There was a stunned silence that enveloped the entire room as everyone tried to process the events that had just unfolded.

“So, Remy,” she began with a teasing tone, “something you wanna ask me?”

He could not speak. The smooth talking Cajun was speechless after that interaction. But once he began to recover, a smirk overtook his rugged features. He walked up closer to the woman and placed a hand back on the counter.

“Will you go out with me, chere?” Remy finally asked her.

“Of course, Gambit. Besides, I have a man waiting to turn you into a kebab if you mess up.” She began to laugh, but the color started drawing from his face once more.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 10 - The King

Chapter Summary - Hongjoong and Y/N have some much needed bonding time.

warnings: mentions of child death, grief, Hongjoong is infuriating, smut

Series Masterlist

MINORS DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT

The documents I found in the library were full of knowledge that had never been printed for the public eye. Aurora had gotten so close, even having a list of suspects that she'd narrowed down to five people. I'd reviewed the documents secretly, keeping the papers under my bed the nights Jongho or Mingi would spend with me.

Seonghwa had started spending time with me during the day, even letting me teach him some of the ballet duets I'd learned over the years. I could really tell he was a fan in those moments, his eyes lighting up with the slightest bit of excitement.

I hadn't forgiven him, nor had I worn the ring yet. I don't think they deserved to see that yet.

On the nights Mingi or Jongho wouldn't stay with me, I'd stay up late working through the work that Aurora had left. Now that we were nearing the final show day for Coppélia I had more nights off during the week, only performing Thursdays through to Saturdays, which left me plenty of time.

Aurora had discovered another tell aside from poison. All of The Cobra's victims were 100% targeted. Not just random killings of the rich, no, it was calculated. She'd highlighted potential reasons why they would be targeted and who would be the killer for those reasons.

It made me wonder how many I knew now who had targets on their backs or still do. Did ATZ have one? Is that why Aurora was so stubborn in investigating?

One night I had gone downstairs for a glass of water. It was colder than usual tonight, I figured it would start snowing soon since the holidays were right around the corner.

As I climbed back up the stairs to go back to bed, I noticed the light under Hongjoong's office door was on. It wasn't unusual, I knew he'd stay up late most nights to work. However, it didn't stop my feet from carrying me towards the door. I had so many questions, and for some reason, I believed they could be answered by the most infuriating man I have ever made conversations with.

I stop at the door, I can't hear anyone inside, but I know he's in there. He's probably still in his work clothes, his hair messy with a stern yet concentrated look on his face. I softly knock on the door, hearing a groan from the otherside.

"Seonghwa, don't lecture me again." Hongjoong grumbles from the other side. Ny hand finds the handle, and I turn it, the door clicking softly as I push it open. "Seriously, I'm almost-" He finally looks up, realising it's me. "Oh."

"Hi." I say, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me.

"Why are you awake?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"I could ask you the same thing." I respond, earning a quirk of amusement on his features.

"I'm working." He answers simply. "Couldn't sleep?" He asks.

"Yea." I answer, taking a seat in the plush chair across from his desk, one that wasn't there the last time I was in here. The place was tidier. Maybe he cleaned it thinking I'd come back inside.

I always had trouble sleeping around the holidays. Everything that could have happened back home happened around this time. And I mean everything. It was like a higher being had purposely put a curse on my family out of spite.

"You and I have that in common." Hongjoong smirks, placing his pen down probably for the first time in hours. "However I don't think you enioy my company much."

"I don't." I confirm

"Then why are you here?"

I hesitate for a moment. Would he react badly if I started asking questions? I made a promise to them over dinner that I wouldn't investigate anything, that I was just curious and wanted to know as much as I could. Eventually, I did let it slip to them about what I thought had happened to Chalita, before Hongjoong had told me she was alive, and I think the understanding was met.

"I want to ask questions." I say finally.

He nods slowly. "Go ahead."

"How much did you know about The Cobra?" I ask. He leans back in his seat, his right hand coming to hold up his head as he thinks for a moment.

"I know enough." He answers. "He tortured our world for years, killing those who he believed deserved it."

"Aurora thinks that his killings were targeted." I say, his face gave me no tell of how he was feeling in that moment.

"She'd be right, I suppose. It makes sense." Hongjoong says, standing up from his seat. His suit was a little crinkled, and his tie was loose, probably from fiddling with it. "He was an intelligent killer. I found it hard to believe that he just killed for sport, it would be a waste."

"And how he killed them... All their deaths were so specific." I say, sitting up in my seat. "Like Mr Sun. He has his face burnt off right after his modelling company sky rocketed through the market." He looks back at me, a tinge of interest in his eyes.

He hums in agreement, connecting the dots in his head. "It's a long shot."

"A long shot?" I scoff, standing up. "Are you kidding me?"

"Well, what do you want me to say? That I agree with you? So you'll run off and do the exact same thing Aurora did and get yourself killed?" He snaps. He'd never raised his voice at me, not yet anyway. I got the impression he was more of the teasing type.

"It would be nice, yknow. Considering you've done nothing but tease me since I arrived." I argue back.

"I thought you liked it?" He laughs.

"Well I don't! It's infuriating- You're infuriating!" I groan, throwing my hands up.

"Alright then princess." Hongjoong says, leaning against one of the bookshelves. "Keep ranting. What else do you hate about me?"

"It's not just you! It's everything about this place." I exclaim. "Only two of you talk to me and actually treat me like they want me here. Hell, Seonghwa is the one who invited me here, and he treats me like I'm some innocent doll for him to play with. And you -" I point my index finger at him, which makes him raise his eyebrow. "- You are one of the most immature men I have ever had to displeasure of knowing. Do you never take anything seriously? And when you do, do you always expect everyone to agree with you because guess what, they don't!"

He watches me, his expression showing a hint of pride at my outburst. He lets me rant for a while longer, about the other boys, that stupid ring Seonghwa gave me, and his stupid apology, the rules, and keeping me in the dark. Eventually, when I stopped, he grins widely, a laugh escaping his lips.

"You continue to surprise me." He cackles, shaking his head as he looks out the window.

"This is what I'm talking about!" I say, frustrated. "I tell you how I feel, that I'm upset, and you laugh at me!"

Hongjoong stops laughing, looking back at me. "You're really upset?" He says, scanning me for a moment.

"Yes! I've been saying that for weeks." I says, feeling my eyes burn.

He stands there for a moment. The amusement on his face vanished now.

"It's been a while since I've had someone voice their feelings so openly." He says, moving around to sit back in his seat. "When you spend so much time with someone, you just get the feeling that somethings wrong."

I stand there, my arms crossed.

"I should have listened." He says softly, looking me directly in the eye. "Please. Sit." He says.

I sit down, my arms still crossed over my chest.

"Aurora and I met through a business exchange." He says. "Before my parents passed, her and I were betrothed to one another." I look at him in surprise.

"As we got older, we grew to love each other. The others loved her too, and she loved them.. It was -" He stops finally looking into my eyes. "I want that with you." He whispers, leaning forward in his seat.

Something flutters in my stomach, and I break away from his gaze. I wanted it, I really did. To be loved so fully, that material goods wouldn't make me feel the same type of happiness.

"The Cobra isn't gone, Hongjoong." I say softly. "He could have a target on any one of you."

He nods. "I know, but the safety of you and them comes first." He says, pointing towards the door. "One wrong move and everything that I've ever loved disappears."

I shut my mouth, my eyes lowering in understanding.

"I know. But I've lost everything." I whisper. "He took everything from me."

"What happened in that house, Princess?" He asks gently, standing up and moving around the desk to lean against the front of it, in front of me. "Talk to me. I'll listen this time."

I look up at him as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I thought Chalita was dead. You all know that now." I start. "I had another sister, Chaluai, she died at only 12 years old." His eyes soften as he listens. "I wasn't there when she passed... I had already run away, but I saw it on the news."

"5 years ago. I remember." He says softly. "They said she died in her sleep."

"It's a lie." I say. "She had been sick for months beforehand, the doctor found poison in her system around a month in, and my mother had everyone in the house fired."

"Poison?" Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.

"I can't remember the type, but yes."

"That sounds..."

"Like The Cobra?"

He nods at my words. "It seems like your family had a target on it's back." He says, his voice grim. "Maybe it was a good thing you ran away."

"I should have left sooner and taken her with me." I say, fiddling with my fingers.

"You should never blame yourself for things you had no control over." He says, moving to kneel in front of me. "You were a child too."

I watch him carefully as he takes my hands in his, his eyes never leaving mine. I liked this side of him, how he'd listen intently to every detail I said.

"Believe me when I say it's not your fault." He whispers. My eyes start to burn as tears threaten to spill, and he reaches up to cup my cheek.

"So you do know how to comfort people." I joke, fighting back the tears. He chuckles softly, standing to kiss my forhead before taking the seat beside me.

"I get it from my mother." He says.

"Tell me about them. Your parents." I say softly. our hands still holding tightly to one anothers.

"They were good people, didn't deserve what happened to them. Same with my brother." He says, looking down at our hands. "I was happy, we were happy. Then it all just got stripped away."

"It's hard... Losing your family." I say softly, squeezing his hand.

"It's strange how we all lost our families, yet all found each other." He says with a small smile.

"No one has a family?" I ask, I knew Jongho had lost his, but the others?

"Pretty much, everyone. San still talks to his sister." Hongjoong says. "Our parents however, are either dead or want nothing to do with us."

I felt a pang in my chest, maybe we weren't so different.

"Something on your mind, Princess?" He asks softly.

"A lot of things." I whisper. "I think a lot."

"I can tell." He chuckles. "I find it endearing."

I woke the next morning in my own bed. Hongjoong and I had talked for hours, and I must have drifted off not long after he started showing me some of his work. Funny.

I get out of bed and get ready for the day, I can hear them all downstairs already. Their lovely voices ricocheting up the stairs. I smile as I follow the noise. It had been a while since it was like this.

"Good morning!" Wooyoung chirps as I enter the dining room, the seat next to him open. I sit down, saying good morning to them all as I look out on the food before me.

"Pretty girl, can you pass me that?" Jongho asks, sitting across from me. I feel my cheeks burn at the nickname and hand him a butter knife.

"Sleep well?" Hongjoong asks from the head of the table. I give him a knowing look and nod, earning a wink from him.

The boys continue to chatter, their voices mingling as I try to listen to everyone at once. Even Yunho was chatty, his laugh boisterous as Mingi cracks a joke mid-conversation.

I wanted this. This is the life I wanted with them. I wanted to be in their circle, I wanted to love them and to be loved. It felt weird to finally admit it even to myself. It had been months now, and such little progress had been made. Maybe they were waiting for me to make a move this whole time?

"I have my final show next week." I finally speak up when their conversations die down. "I want you all to come."

Seonghwa smiles brightly. "The final show already? It feels like it only started a few weeks ago."

"You really want us there?" San asks, his eyes watching me curiously.

"I do." I say softly, glancing at Hongjoong.

"We'll come." Hongjoong says, taking a sip of whatever was in his mug, and I'm fairly sure it was alcoholic.

I smile widely at his answer. A few of them smile back, while the others turn their attention back to their meals.

After breakfast, Hongjoong asks me into his office. He takes my hand when we're out of sight and leads me back up the stairs.

He twirls me as we enter his private space, closing the door behind him with a soft click and locking it. He strides towards me next, pinning me against the front of his desk.

"You forgot something last night." He says, his gaze sending shivers down my spine.

"And what would that be?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He grins before leaning in, sealing my lips in a kiss. He pulls away briefly, his grin widening even more when I chase him before pushing forward again.

His hands grip my hips as he deepens the kiss, letting out soft breaths as our tongues collide.

When we finally pull away, he rests our forheads together, catching his breath.

"You're perfect." He whispers before leaning back in.

His hand travels under the hem of my dress, his fingers dancing lightly across my skin. I jump up to sit on the desk, the dress bunching up around my hips as he stands between my legs. Our lips never break apart, like it was the only thing keeping us alive.

"Can I have you?" He whispers, his lips pressing sloppy and desperate kisses to my jaw and neck.

"Yes." I respond softly.

He brings his hands up and starts to unbutton his white button-up, slowly shrugging it off of his shoulders. I noticed a scar on his abdomen but decided to ask about it later. He groans as I reach forward to palm him through his trousers.

"I need you so bad." He says, his voice almost pleading. I had the leader of one of the most notorious mafia gangs begging for me.

His fingers push my panties to the side, one finding my core and slowly pushing in. He watches my face as my mouth hangs open in pleasure.

"Hongjoong.." I moan softly, my hands gripping his biceps. He shudders at the sound of his name on my lips.

"You're soaked, and I've barely touched you." He chuckles, pumping his finger in and out of me at a steady pace.

"Can I ride you?" I ask, surprising myself.

"Absolutely." He says, quickly removing his finger and hustling to undress himself further. I do the same, hopping off the desk and pulling my clothes off one by one as I follow him arlund to his desk chair.

He sits down, his hair a mess, and his erection is standing proud. I straddle him, his hands instantly finding my waist as I do so. He reaches a hand down between us as I brace myself on his shoulders to guide himself to my entrance.

His head rolls back as I slowly sink down onto him, a low moan escaping his lips. His hands gently massage my waist as I adjust to the position, his eyes on me as I started to move.

I rode him with expert skill, my moans lingering with his as we both chased our pleasure. His hands guided my movements, whispering soft praises into my ear.

"Good girl.." He says with a happy sigh. "Doing so well for me."

I whine softly as he bucks his hips up. "Can you go a little faster?" Hongjoong asks, almost sweetly. I nod, bracing myself again as I start to move faster. He bucks up into him, timing our movements perfectly that made me see stars.

"Perfect." Hongjoong grunts, his release rapidly approaching.

I could feel my orgasm slowly reaching its peak. My thighs burnt, and I'm sure Hongjoongs shoulders were in pain from my nails digging into his skin, but he didn't care. He was too focused on me, just me. His eyes never left my face, my body sonce we started. He wanted me.

"Gonna cum?" He questions, feeling me clench around him. "Cum for me." He says, his voice low but desperate. The encouragement was all I needed to push me over the edge, my orgasm triggering his own.

I relax on top of him, his arms wrapped around me in a comforting embrace. On hand, rest behind my head as he presses kisses to my forhead, the other rubbing my back.

"You okay?" He asks softly, his fingers gently tangling inbmy hair.

"Yea.." I whisper, my head resting on his shoulder.

We sit in comfortable silence, neither of us wanting to move away from the others' embrace. For the first time ever, I felt safe with Hongjoong, and I knew the others would be the same.

I just got to give them a chance.

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[carlsangel]

EMBARRASSMENT

carl grimes x fem!reader

(negan embarrasses you and carl during the lineup.)

tags: i have no idear but negans in this one and he’s a BITCH

masterlist here!

The Lineup was the worst day of your life. Not only were you practically sobbing for half of it but you were also angry. You were angry, scared, and frustrated.

Before the lineup, you were helping pack up the RV, you were in charge of packing all the medicine and food that Maggie would need for the ride. You’d had a large bag of anything she’d need and you approached the RV and walked up the steps, heading to the bed in the back. You put it on the shelf and turn to leave to be met with Carl.

“Hey.” He puts a jug of water on the floor by the door. “Nervous?” You ask, knowing he’d not gone to Hilltop before and with the risk of the Saviors after the death of Denise, losing tons of people, he was worried. But he refused to show that. “No. Why would I be?” He mumbles, making his way back out of the RV and his tone sort of throws you off.

Before you can think of an answer, Rick instructs Carl to collect guns from the armory, and you decide to follow. You catch up to him and look at his expression, he seems different which is explanatory but you wanted details. “I was just thinking…you’d be worried since…the Saviors? Everything that happened.” You explain. He walks with a blank expression.

“I’m not nervous, I’m not letting it happen again. That’s why you’re not going.” You stop in your tracks and he slows down, looking back at you as if your reaction was unreasonable. “Excuse me?” He turns back around and continues walking. “Don’t just walk away, you can’t just tell me I can’t go.” You try and reason with himself, but he simply doesn’t wanna hear it. He continues walking to the armory.

In spite of that, you went home and started packing. Anything you’d need or anything important for the trip, you didn’t know how long you’d be staying at Hilltop.

When you left the house, you hopped down the stairs, noticing Sasha grabbing from the house’s cabinets. She stops you before you continue out the house. “What was all that about?” She questioned, you assume she and some others had seen what’d gone on with Carl earlier. It sort of threw everyone off, he was never that closed off with you.

You pause before thinking, trying to figure out what’d happened yourself. “I…that’s a good question.” You sort of chuckle embarrassingly, you were thrown off by his demeanor. “I’m sure it’s nothing, I think he’s just…upset about everything.” You continue. Sasha nods. “You’re still going?” She zips up her bag and throws it over her shoulder.

“He’s not stopping me.”

Which he didn’t, he tried his hardest to persuade you but you wouldn’t budge. You wanted to be there in case anything happened, most importantly you wanted to be there for Maggie. It took an entire argument for you to be able to get on the damn RV. “You know they’re out there. I can’t let anything happen to you.” While you understood where he was coming from, it seemed relatively hypocritical.

“You’re being ridiculous, when have we not been able to handle something? If anything happens, we’re getting out alive. I don’t care. I’m going.”

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

Unfortunately, you were in for a rude awakening. Maybe he was right, but you still wanted to be there. Be beside him during everything. You had to be, you had to see it all happen. He believed that as well. Maybe not for you, but he knew he had to see it.

This man, Negan seemed to be a total asshole, the way he had you all lined up for him, his cruel jokes. You had to admit he was a little funny, but now was definitely not the time. He’d been taunting you and the people you called your family for what felt like hours. He threatened you to no end, explaining how your life basically revolved around him now.

Negan paced back and forth, looking between you all. You were angry, you hadn’t cried yet but you were pissed, reasonably so. He was at the other end of the line when he looked in your direction. His sharp gaze made your stomach drop, you knew it was your turn. You look down for a moment as he walked over to you, swallowing hard before looking up at him like his presence was irritating, not terrifying.

He smiles as he approaches, immediately noticing the look in your eye. “Someone’s mad.” He chuckles, looking to the others while gesturing to you with Lucille. Despite your nerves, you were fairly irritated. Your knees felt like they were nailed to the ground, they hurt terribly and it only rubbed off on your attitude towards Negan. “How does a girl like you, get wrapped up with these kinds of people?” You tilt your head at him with a disgusted look. “You’re one to talk. This is my family.” You retort. He jokingly acts shocked at your rebuttal. “Well excuse me! The last time I checked, your people,” he puts Lucille in your face, “…killed a whole lot of my people, completely unwarranted.”

You knew it was bullshit. You knew about their agreement with Hilltop, the sixteen year old boy they killed. But you couldn’t say anything, not now. While Negan spewed bullshit, you looked to Carl for the first time since Negan had noticed you.

He was glaring at him. Something told you this wouldn’t go well, especially for Carl. He was going to say something but you didn’t know what. Negan noticed your attention strayed away from him, god knows he had to be the center of attention all of the time. This prompted him to put Lucille under your chin, directing you to look back at himself. Doing so, the barbed wire sliced the bottom of your chin open, causing you to wince slightly.

“What the hell are you getting out of this?” Carl exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention. You wipe the blood off your chin with your sleeve, staining the shirt you were wearing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you all hot n bothered.” Negan sympathized sarcastically. “Just leave her alone. Harassing her won’t do you any good.” Carl grimaces at Negan and he can’t help but laugh.

“Wow…” Negan smiles at Carl’s efforts to stick up for you, realizing that he could use it to break him. “So, I’m assumin you two are..well you know.” He suggests. You both look up at him with peevish looks. “I see why. You both got somethin in common.”

You look to Carl and he looks to you. You both avert your eyes back to Negan. “You’re both very, very easy to piss off. I imagine you’ve got a healthy relationship.” He taunts.

“I guess I’m just shocked you got a girl with that eye of yours, I bet you haven’t shown her what’s underneath that bandage huh?” Your eyes go wide at his comment. Carl doesn’t seem to react to it in any way, he was too angry. “The game you’re playing, it’s not gonna work.” Carl remarks. “You’re not gonna win.”

Negan kneels to Carl’s level, boring his eyes into his intently. The rage Carl felt gave him the urge to just kill Negan right there. That’d only get everyone else killed. “I guess we’ll find out.” Negan smirks before returning back to towering over the lot of you.

God, the embarrassment.

a/n: hey guys currently writing this very hungry. anyway i have a final tmr for english and im praying it goes well muehehe IVE BEEN STRUGGLING TO FIND THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE but tomorrow is my last day of school so you guys will get me for about two months HAHAH you’re gonna be so sick of me. also, don’t be worried to send requests even if you think they’re bad, half the time they’re really good so keep sendin them!

taglist: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[calisources]

IN LOVE AND WAR, EVERYTHING GOES. a sentence meme based around the subject of allies, enemies, war and enemies to lovers and more of the same tropes we all love. change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit. these are all scrambled around.

“Friends ask you questions; enemies question you.”

“You can live safe and be protected by people just like you, or you can stand up and be a leader for what is right.”

“Where do we find allies?"

“War created bizarre allies, while peace itself could be divisive.”

“I promise you, nothing will happen to you.”

“I choose my allies carefully and my enemies more carefully still.”

“People fight wars over ideas.” 

“Wars begin when you will, but they do not end when you please.”

“I was raised in hatred, Roma. I could never be your lover, only your killer.”

“We were enemies, no matter the truths. No matter that I loved him.”

“He’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her.”

“She's not the type to swoon for pretty lies.”

“The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn't stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.”

“These violent delights have violent ends."

“Men without morals are dangerous beasts.”

“The spiteful, little stars.”

“Death is real. Death is inevitable. Death comes when you're not ready for it. Be ready.”

“I was alive, but I wasn’t living. You took things from me. My soul―my heart.”

“You’re supposed to keep your enemies close. Therefore, it stands to reason that your sworn enemy should be kept closest.”

“When will you see I'm not your enemy, but your weapon. Wield me.”

“Can’t even get out of my grasp? Or is it because you secretly don’t want to?”

“Why are you confessing all of your crimes?”Are you trying to get hit?”

“You're a hero and I'm a monster. There's only one way that story ever ends.”

"Tell me you came to find me. That you changed your mind."

"How--how can you even say such things,on an evening you are meant to choose another as your bride?"

"My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned."

"I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.”

“The road for hell for me is paved with everything I would do for you, and that list never ends.”

“You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you."

“You have no idea what I could give you."

“If you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.”

“I see you truly for everything you are and everything you will be and I claim you as mine.”

“I don't think I've ever met anyone as vexing as you."

“Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.”

“A wise man gets more use from his enemies than a fool from his friends.”

"We're on opposite sides, you know."

"You're the one claiming we're all villains. There's no black or white, only gray area. We can coexist somewhere in the middle, can't we?”

“A man with no enemies is a man with no character.”

“I smile to myself knowing that they may be dead.”

“I like your savage brutality."

"That's a poetic observation, coming from such a savage creature.”

"And you are mine, Victor Nox. whether you agree is irrelevant.”

“Bitter people are not interested in what you say, but what you hide.”

“Enemies can't break your spirit, only friends can.”

“In order to know your enemy, you must become your enemy.”

“Such a pretty face, but so weak and emotional. Just a regular man, after all.”

[lilacxquartz]

TO SAVE A BROKEN SOUL • suguru geto x cursed spirit fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • mdni < previous chapter • next chapter >>

summary: saved by someone who claims to want to help you, your life quickly takes a turn for the worse.

trigger warnings: uncomfortable scenes, dehumanising and objectifying language, violence

Chapter 2. Sinner

Willingly returning back to the temple felt strange for you, especially when facing the curious glance from the girl before again, with another pair of eyes cautiously leaning in from around a corner to look at you.

The girl with darker hair stepped forward towards the monk you kept firmly glued to the side of. Her voice sounded so soft and gentle despite the words that came out of her lips, “Are you going to eat the monster, Geto-sama?”

You paled for a moment.

What could that posstibly mean…?

The man before you stopped for a moment, as if considering the situation and how to calm the two young girls while keeping your presence on the down low. “Not this one,” he replied at last, sensing the girl’s fear towards seeing you, “this one will be working with me personally.”

You felt comfort settle as you didn’t seem to be headed down such a strange route, but at the same time, you still didn’t quite understand what exactly you were brought in for. So far, as you understood it, the two girls could not only see you but didn’t fear you within his company.

This little detail unsettled you.

You weren’t afraid of many things, but this predicament you had found yourself in didn’t sit quite right with you.

And as he led you further away from the outer section of the temple, you couldn’t help but wonder what this strange person truly had in store for you. Working together? You thought you were just helping him satisfy a curiosity. Unless he was being purposefully vague to keep you on the edge. Whatever it was, you didn’t fully trust his intentions.

“Come,” he spoke once again, opening a slotted wooden door, “you’re going to bathe.”

You cautiously padded towards the room, spotting a small square bathtub with no curtain to hide being. The floor was made from bamboo and the window, although concealed by wrapping leaves around the outside of the exterior, still looked outside.

“Can I do it privately?” you asked, settling into the idea. You didn’t need to wash yourself as a cursed spirit, there was very little point in doing so. You didn’t perspire like humans did, and dirt therefore didn’t cling to your skin the same way. The rain that fell washed anything resistant away and due to not being alive in the same way that mammals were, you didn’t smell.

However, you could entertain it to keep your life.

Something told you that he wasn’t going to let you get further than this if you didn’t bathe, at least.

The man, who you had by now determined was referred to as Geto, tilted his head to the side in what appeared to be confusion. His long, cascading black hair hung in the air as his brows furrowed. “You’re a cursed spirit, aren’t you? Why are you being shy?”

“I’m not being shy,” you replied, attempting to stand your ground. You weren’t totally oblivious, knowing exactly what sort of form you had. It was feminine and through your feedings in the past, you understood that the anatomy wasn’t too far off either. “I am wary though,” you admitted, “you should understand why.”

He nodded, although his gaze didn’t wander away. “Sure, you’re a pretty face,” he considered, “but you’re also just a cursed spirit, so anything that I might do to you or not doesn’t actually matter, does it?”

“Is that why you brought me here?” you attempted to call out, trying to find the reason behind his words.

He shrugged. “I’m not being rude. I’m laying out a fact. Cursed spirits can’t feel anything.”

You tried to challenge his claim however, your words carrying some spite as you spoke, “But I might. Not every single one is evil without cause.”

“They all taste the same to me regardless,” he said, leaning back against the wall, his eyes trained on the steaming tub, “like rancid gasoline.”

There he went again, reminding you that you weren’t the only one who had the capacity to feed. You didn’t like that he had reduced your life to just a flavour that he didn’t like in his mouth. It felt demoralising, bleak and hopeless. Perhaps not too unlike how humans felt right before meeting their end.

You couldn’t quite shake the unsettling thought that now coursed through your body, understanding that while he took you in for some sort of strange hidden purpose, that he was going to very likely treat you poorly because of what you were. In his eyes, you were likely disposable because your life didn’t hold the same sort of weight that a human life did, for example.

Yet he emitted some sort of aura that made him call to you—making you drop your guard around him.

Some sort of cursed technique, maybe?

In a resigned sigh, you didn’t prod at the subject for any longer, deciding to get this whole thing over with and despite the lingering discomfort you felt from his eyes settling over your now exposed body, you pressed on, washing yourself under his hungry gaze.

He stared at you with such devotion, almost. His eyes practically worshipping you the longer that he stared. This was shaken off quickly though, his thoughts reminding him of your true nature. How horrid you truly were.

A disgusting sight.

An even more bitter taste.

You weren’t anything special, maybe even below human in his eyes.

Even despite the looks he gave you and the things your body made him feel. The way your curves sloped, the way that water rolled off of your skin—no, this wasn’t right. You weren’t right.

You were simply below him.

~~~

The next morning, he led you someplace else, guiding you off to another location. You didn’t in particular like it there either, finding that the stares of the people he acquainted with were nothing short of hateful.

Pulling you off to an airy room with a small stage, he explained your divine purpose to you with concerning detail.

“My role is to… deceive people?” you asked, not quite understanding, “Most people can’t see me, though.”

Suguru tilted his head at you, his voice dripping with a sarcastic tone, “That’s the whole point,” he smiled, glancing at one of the attending members, “I would like to be perceived as a higher power to those unsuspecting and unaware. Maybe even a deity amongst simple monkeys.”

You frowned in response for two reasons in mind. First, you didn’t want to be around humans for an extended amount of time for obvious excuses and second, for his own stated desire. Just who was this man actually and why did he seem so much worse than you?

He had the audacity to call you disgusting and yet, he spoke of himself so highly.

…Why did he have to bring you here?

“You see,” he continued, “people’s beliefs can be fragile, but that’s why in religions, miracles must happen and also… punishments.”

Just before taking you here, he did brief you on earlier with a threat to ensure your compliance. You understood fully why you felt confused around this man now and it was likely due to his cursed technique. The same reason humans feel strangely at peace before death, was likely what you felt when it felt like he was close to using it. A false salvation, a doomed hope if not only a means to an untimely end.

“You have other cursed spirits for this sort of job, don’t you?” you pressed with that information still fresh in your mind, hoping he would give you a better answer than the meaningless ones he had been giving you so far.

“True, I have my… collection,” he mused, crossing his arms in consideration, “but they act more as tools rather than helpers. I can command them to fight, to feed, to… kill, but they can’t perform miracles. That’s where you come in.”

Holding onto a sceptical tone you continued to prod, “And how could I possibly accomplish that?”

Suguru smiled at your linear way of thinking. He supposed that you couldn’t help it. “Do something positive, no matter how small. Or do something terrible, no matter how evil. These fools will interpret even the smallest act as a sign from something greater.”

You exhaled deeply, continuing to feel trapped. He was revealing his intentions to you as though you were just another one of his tamed spirits, yet you were free. Being so often around humans wasn’t something you wanted to be doing, finding the situation almost agitating.

“For example,” Suguru continued, his eyes catching onto a random man that stood in a small crowd nearby. “What do you pray for?”

The man hesitated from the sudden question, but answered the question anyway, “Wealth…?”

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, Suguru scoffed, “Such a selfish desire, but let’s see if it’s granted shall we?” he dramatically gestured, his sights pointed at you but you didn’t know what exactly this meant. He brought you here with very little context and zero guidance.

Returning to you, he quietly reminded you in a very flat tone that he could either exorcise you or you could, you know, feed, right on the man that he had just spoken to. That he didn’t deserve this wish anyway, because if you couldn’t understand—being what you are—that selfish wishes like that aren’t worthy of miracles but punishments instead.

“I know you’re barely holding back,” he whispered, trying to tempt you, “think of just how good it’ll finally feel to give in, to not worry about consequences.”

And just like a cornered animal with a desperate desire to carry on living, you gave into instinct once again.

You couldn’t even help it.

Acting out of desperation, you reluctantly moved forward as an opportunity to sate your burning hunger had been so freely presented to you. Oh, how tempting it was to give in, to bite into flesh, to drink such thick red blood as though it was red wine—you felt so drunk, intoxicated even—as you chewed against disfigured flesh, but then, you heard it.

Screams. A lot of them. Gasps and shudders and an atmosphere of boiling dread; a feeling that both continued to intoxicate you while sickening you at the same time.

Albeit reluctantly, you pulled away from your feral stupor while still grinding against bloodied flesh, licking the blood that dried quickly over your lips. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of disgust roll over you as you backed away, with wide eyes as you surrendered to a lapse of something you didn’t want to become just yet.

(As long as you remained aware, you could remain in control. As long as you didn’t give into your instincts, you could still be you. That’s all it took. Yet, he sought to take it away from you under the false impression of becoming a god.)

In your heavily heaving state, swallowing the last bit of meat, you watched on as the man who took you in, who stared hungrily at you the same way you did at flesh, that claimed to be disgusted by you all at the same time—approach and ask someone else, repeating the same sort of question to them and snorting, hearing a finally acceptable answer.

“Good, that’s a good answer,” he praised, even if his tone did carry a hint of disgust, his eyes blank when talking to what seemed to be just regular people. “Why, it even appears that there might just be a miracle in store for you later on, but first, let’s get this… mess cleaned up.”

Gesturing for someone to come and clean up the unfortunate aftermath, he finally led you away. It wasn’t like he was completely oblivious to what you could potentially become, but that’s why the punishments would be just as rare as the miracles.

After all, if such things were a little too frequent, then what meaning could they possibly have?

~~~

this is part 2 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

[no-thoughts-just-the-clouds]

My ranking of Nightmare Time episodes (and illegible ramblings about each bc im not normal about this)

1. Honey Queen- Nibbly and Wiggly fighting over Linda; IM THE LATTE HOTTIE WITH ALL THE CLOUT 🗣️🗣️🗣️; Paul randomly showing up is so funny though; roman sleep with one eye open i am coming for you, you leave our queen Linda alone; all of Linda's kids are named after bodies of water Brooke is her daughter head cannon is growing; villain couples wish they are Gerald and Linda; ah yes these four prepubescent boys *proceeds to show four grown men, two of which has facial hair*

2. Yellow Jacket- made me cry, comedy my butt; Sophia and Daniel they can never make me hate you; i will die for you Hannah; Lex is so me coded (i am an older sister and i have issues); Charles talking about Otho: "even the babies are the most dangerous animals so i built this self destruct device to keep him secure so there's no possible— *otho proceeds to escape* —oh my go-"; Joey as Ethan is kinda 👀, i am looking respectfully sir

3. Time Bastard- KEEP KEEP RUNNING AWAY YOOOOUUUU BASTARD TIME BASTARDDDDDDD 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥; Kim's voice>>>>>>; Tinky really said i will find you in every universe but in the worse way possible; imagine that the reason why pete considers steph the most important person in his life is because the other person he loves the most, his brother ted, is missing and even considered dead, leaving steph as the only person he cares for that is still alive; tinky symbolizes the cycling hell that Ted is stuck in, the labyrinth like halls of his office job alongside his inability to connect with any woman he meets, or just any person in general, aaaandd post

4. Abstinence Camp- VIRGINITY ROCKS 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥DON'T TOSS IT AWAY NEVER TOUCH ANYONE ANYONE NOT EVEN YOUR BABE, that was the best song in the entire series i am not accepting criticism; HE'S GOT THE STEPS THAT CRUMBLE HE'S GOT THE MIND OF A PSYCHO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️, second best song in the show; i am fully convinced grace is the most powerful character besides the LiB in the hatchetverse, with becky being the second because she did defeat her in pitstop; Steph calm down girly 💀; Boy Jerry is one of those news reporters in hatchet town?????; im on lumber axe's side, i too would be very irritated if some horny teenagers decides to do the do in my own home

5. Killer Track- "oh right, he was watching the fireworks" SCREAMING WAILING SOBBING AND THROWING UP; Miss holloway deserves happiness; the upcoming holloduke break up episode is going to destroy me i just know it; Bryce's character designs>>>>>>>; if the LiB always asks for what the summoner treasures the most, then that means all miss holloway ever wanted was to be remembered; is the killer track connected to pokotho!????

6. Perky's Buds- i love you ziggy; ah yes nightmare time, the series of all time; farmer gives bird magical weed and ends up becoming a slave to the nest of nighthawks; the birds throwing up food down their throats vs the entirety of hey melissa, which is more disgusting?; Ezekiel is my favorite Joey character; emma finally gets her dream of a pot farm and it all immediately went up in flames (literally)

7. Watcher World- TRIP TO AN AMUSEMENT PARK GONE WRONG (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT); don't worry alice go on and join us at the "i have parental issues" club; poor snigglet; "Jeff are you drunk again" there goes the fourth wall; kudos to mariah that panic attack scene is well acted and accurate; im kinda shocked that sylvia isn't someone bill made up to spite his ex but alright; the final part of the fight scene between bill and alice will never leave my mind thank you; That one guy shouting out all of bill's insecurities while playing the high striker, like my man james and corey you outdid yourselves

8. Daddy- i did not expect the sherman young lore but alright; sheila young kinda 👀, am looking respectfully ma'am; sheila young please just one chance 🙏; MAN IN A HURRY NAME DROP LETSSSS GOOOO BARRY SWIFT; out of all of the deaths in NT frank's dog is the saddest, change my mind; behind every dirtbag (frank) in hatchetfield is an even bigger dirtbag (sheila & sherman)

9. Forever and Always- Paul 23 & Emmdroid my beloved; THE CONNECTION OF THIS EPISODE WITH TIME BASTARD THOUGH!???? LIKE STARKID YOU ATE; behind every girlboss (Emmdroid) is a malewife (Paul 23); RIP to the real paul and emma but these two clones deserve their weird, happy relationship

10. Hatchetfield Ape Man- "welcome to america, you tea taxing son of a b****"; correct me if I'm wrong but from what i remember none of the events that happened in this episode are connected to the lords in black, all of this was just produced from professor hidgens being unhinged; anything for working boys; "iT's ObViOuSlY a NaKeD mAn" 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️; WHAT IS UP WITH TED AND HENRY COMMITING WAR CRIMES TOGETHER AND ENDS WITH HENRY KILLING TED!???

11. Jane's a Car- G O T M Y F O O T O N T H E G A S; the way my jaw dropped when i found out tom and jafar have the same actor; that ending though; oh wow lore on emma's sister how cool, and then THAT scene happens; Becky barnes you beautiful gorgeous intelligent kind-hearted lady, i need to know the story behind the whole "climbing a tree" thing; the audio playing in the radio when the car crashed being connected to the LiB? These eldritch beings literally looked at these small town jerks and went- "ah yes, these are my favorite humans"

12. The Witch in the Web- MISS HOLLOWAY INTRODUCTION LET'S GOOOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️; i wish a very horrible evening to pamela foster; WILEY!?????? THE DAGGER ALSO SHOWING UP IN THE PITSTOP LIVESTREAM!??? I NEED MORE LORE ABOUT THAT DAGGER; Hannah's actress put her entire soul into the acting, goodness gracious.

[linkito]

👀 you know I HAVE to ask about that one incident now because nooooo he hurt Grian?? What happened??

Especially if there's sketches involved, because you two are apparently gods to be so good with both writing and art.

-🎀

pffffft hardly gods, ribbon anon, we're just very obsessed with our own au LOL<3

Now behold!! The Incident™!!! rambles and art below cut! (sorry it took so long :'3)

So somewhere down the line, though before any of the events of the mimic/Juni arc, Grian and Scar get attacked by a large group of hunters. It’s a coordinated effort, incredibly calculated.. 

They’ve prepared a thick, heavy net to throw over Grian that tangles into his wings if he tries to use them to escape. And though it takes multiple men to subdue Scar, they get him by stabbing him through the shoulder with a long pronged spear.

It locks in on the other side and makes it almost impossible to remove without worsening the wound or breaking the spear, and someone can keep holding onto the handle.

The hunters clearly want them both alive (for now). Their plan seems to be to sell them, or at least Grian (or at least Grian’s wings).

They can sort of force Scar to move by threatening to jostle the spear, and they tie his hands, too, so he can struggle all he wants, but all he can do is walk while he just continues to bleed. Grian is practically dragged along, twisted and tangled into the coarse net. They’re both scared out of their minds.

Eventually they arrive at a village of sorts, like an outpost for bounty hunters. The humans discuss keeping the vex for sparring purposes (more like target practice), and how they should go about turning a profit with the avian— whether they should sell him as a whole or in parts. One particular hunter removes the net from over Grian and steps his boot down onto one of his wings, knife in hand like he’s going to slice off a few feathers or even a whole damn chunk.

Now, Scar’s gone vex-brained before, but seeing this unfold before him? This time it’s different.

His eyes glow and his hair turns entirely white. Claws and fangs emerge and he sees nothing but pure rage.

With newfound strength, Scar easily breaks through the ropes, but he’s still got that wretched spear. It doesn’t matter to him in the slightest though. He lashes out, slashing and attacking wildly, blood spilling every which way.

Worried he needs to aid with controlling the vex, the hunter with the knife hesitates. And Grian takes that moment that he feels the weight of his boot shift to use his other wing to slam into the man’s body and knock him onto the ground. It’s his mistake for underestimating Grian.

Together, the two of them manage to scramble to flee, but there are hunters on their trail, both humans and bloodhound creatures. And Scar is still entirely feral. He’s not himself at all. He’s not seeing things right, it’s just rage and instinct and blood.

He tears through men and monsters alike, not even bothering to draw his sword. It’s all teeth and claws.

Grian thinks he ought to be afraid, but in spite of everything, Scar’s instinct to protect is just as strong, and his claws weave masterfully around Grian, only striking down their foes.

In the midst of the chaos, however, Grian notices something. While in whatever arcane form this may be, Scar is rapidly healing all his wounds. Blue wisps of magic weave his skin back together as it breaks, although it leaves behind awful, ragged scarring. (How interesting...)

But the spear is still there.

Scar can’t heal while that thing still pierces through him.

And that’s a serious wound. Scar may legitimately die from it if he comes out of this haze without dealing with it. And something tells Grian that Scar doesn’t have enough reason right now to realize that himself.

So as soon as he has a chance, Grian grabs the spear, and with great difficulty, manages to snap it so that it might be pulled out. 

But Scar doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. All he registers is pain and that someone else caused it. 

There’s confusion.

There’s lashing out. 

Grian can maybe manage to dodge out of the way, but he still has to remove the spear, and in the end, in order for Grian to succeed, Scar also lands a wild slash directly onto Grian’s wings. 

The spear gets yanked out, but now Grian is bleeding and in a nightmarish world of pain and Scar’s onslaught is far from over. He pounces onto Grian, pinning that injured wing onto the hard ground underneath them both.

Scar is confused and betrayed and hurting and no longer has any sense over his actions.

And Grian is terrified. Terrified out of his mind, but also—

It’s Scar.

And Grian’s wings have been nothing but a beacon, nothing but a source of danger to them both. And if Scar decides it’s better if they’re gone? ...maybe Grian would let him. 

And as blood trickles between his feathers, he thinks maybe it would be better after all.

So Grian goes limp beneath him, entirely giving in.

“Scar...” he mutters, and maybe it’s a plea. Maybe it’s a surrender.

Scar’s pointed ears twitch. He hears Grian call his name, clear as day, amidst the haze and adrenaline and fear. And Scar needs to protect him. He has to keep fighting. Grian is scared.

He’s scared.

He’s scared of—

“...oh god.” Scar’s voice comes out hoarse, eyes flickering weakly back to their normal green hue.

He sees his hands hovering near Grian’s throat, claws outstretched, and his hands are drenched in blood and he doesn’t know whose it is. Scar stumbles back, horrified. He thinks he’s going to be sick. Everything rapidly returns to normal and suddenly he feels so weak, absolutely drained, his hands are trembling now and—

They both hear shouting in the distance.

Unfortunately, there is no time to come to terms with any of this at all.

They have no choice but to keep running.

...

Now Scar already does everything he can not to touch Grian’s wings. Grian has so much trauma surrounding his wings already, and now? Now Scar feels no better than any of the other monsters after Grian’s feathers. He doesn’t deserve the right. He failed and he hurt Grian, and Grian can barely even bring himself to treat the wound because part of him truly believes he ought to leave them tarnished and broken. 

And later, when Grian inadvertently flinches at Scar’s touch? Scar vows to himself to never use that savage state ever again. 

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

svt reaction: the one who got away | part 1 hyung line version

this v angsty request is from @f4iryjjosh and IT HURT MY SOUL TO WRITE hahahaha thank you so much for the request angel <3 i hope it fulfills all ur desires! (part 2 coming soon :))

the idea is that SVT breaks up with y/n after meeting someone else and falling for them, and then realizing they made a huge mistake, but you've moved on and there's nothing they can really do about it. it is all angst and pain. there is no relief.

seungcheol. he hated hearing his full name from anyone's lips, and he should've hated it even more coming from the lips that he'd be dreaming about for ages. but for some reason, in your voice, it made him smile. even after all this time.

and that smile, the one where he looked at you with his big shining eyes like you'd saved his life or restored his family honor, was almost enough to make you forget everything that had happened between you.

almost.

as it was, you gave him a soft smile back. "hey," you said. "you okay?"

a thousand thoughts pass through his mind at once -- you in his arms, you sighing his name, you breaking down in tears in your best dress in the restaurant where he broke your heart, you you you. god knows all the ways he’s thought about you, in spite of himself, with an alcohol burn to the back of his throat or stone-cold sober. some mistakes stick around, and what he said to you that night is undoubtedly the clingiest one he’s ever made. he knew it then, and he knows it now — seeing your face, however hesitant or worried you might look, is enough for him to know he’s still dead gone over you.

he shakes himself back to reality. "yeah," he says. "i'm okay. you look...great. happy."

"i am," you reply, and he notices, like a knife to his chest, you playing with a glittering ring on your finger, a nervous habit.

"is that --" he says, pointing, "what i think it is?"

you look down at your hand. "oh, yeah!" you exclaim, and despite yourself you smile broadly. "yeah, it is. um, it's pretty new, though. just happened last week."

"does he treat you right?" seungcheol asks, his eyes serious, his tone sharper than he intended. he'll know if you're lying, he always does.

so when you nod, thinking about the man you'll marry, about how he's sweet and gentle and knows how to pull a smile out of you on your very worst days, seungcheol's heart breaks a little more. because he knows it’s true, which means it’s all really over. the fire that kept your relationship with him alive has burned out, and he's the only one with any ashes left to spare.

he musters a smile as well. "good. i'm happy for you. well, it was good seeing you again," he says, turning away. and he curses his eyes for stinging, because he knew if you saw him cry you'd feel guilty, but after everything he put you through, you deserve to just be happy -- happy and nothing else -- for once.

jeonghan it was gradual for him, but it could be traced back to a very specific moment: when he found that letter from you, the one you’d written in class before you’d ever decided to mean anything to each other:

“date me?” it read, with two checkboxes, yes or no. jeonghan remembers how he checked the box labeled “yes” with a crisp black pen to hand back to you, and the look in your eyes when you unfolded it, and the smiles on both of your faces after you’d made out in the boys’ bathroom on the second floor like a couple of love-drunk highschoolers.

that note had heralded feelings jeonghan was desperate to ignore. he had ended it with you. his life was a carefully orchestrated set of advantageous events. he was always the one in control, and he never, ever lost.

so why did he feel like the world’s most pathetic loser whenever he saw that stupid note?

in the end, he’d had to do some serious soul-searching to determine why he even cared so much. he’d been bored, he determined — bored because you were so easy to be around, bored because you never made him feel unsafe or unloved, bored because loving you wasn’t a game he could play to win.

even now, as he stared at the note in his hands, crumpled with the years, jeonghan fought off the urge to call you. he lurked on social media and saw you traveling, eating, living like you’d always wanted to live. just a week prior he’d nearly cried at a picture of you in front of a castle somewhere in Germany, your arms outstretched like you were ready to hug the whole world. it was so you — the castle, the pose, the huge smile in the photo, even the windswept hair. and it hurt so much to see how beautiful you still were.

and a part of him knew that if he called, you would come back for him. because that was who you were.

so he never called, even as he burned with a thousand regrets for all the things he’d done wrong. selfish as he might be, he wasn’t monstrous enough to rob you of a life that was fuller without him in it.

joshua. you really never could be mad at joshua. not even when your relationship was staggering to its painful end, not even when you both knew that it wasn't working, not even when he broke up with you and started dating someone he'd told you not to worry about.

and not now, when you've run into him at a restaurant, right around the two-year mark of the breakup. you weren't in a great place when you'd started dating joshua, and the relationship had brought out the very worst in you, prompting a long period of self-improvement following the breakup.

now, you're in an amazing place, so much so that you're actually happy to see joshua here -- still with the girl he left you for, but looking preoccupied until you called his name and he met your eyes.

his eyes light up. "hi!" he says. "wow, it's you!"

"it is," you say, smiling. "how are things?"

he hesitates, and your heart sinks. you can tell that he hasn't done as well post-breakup as you have, and where the past you would've been a little smug about that, now you just feel compassionate. "things are crazy," he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

because in truth, joshua's looking at you, and though his hand is on the knee of the woman he thought would be better for him than you were, he's wishing he could stand up and hug you. here you are, just like in his memories but better, because your eyes are bright with life and your brows aren't knit together in worry like they always seemed to be when you were together.

joshua knew the relationship you'd had with him had been really hard on you. and he understood the reasons why it didn't work. you had been so insecure you couldn't see your own appeal, and joshua had been burnt out trying to prove it to you. and he could see that he'd made the right choice -- for you, at least.

because for him, every time he looked into the eyes of the woman he was with now, he wished they were yours.

this was an admission he couldn't make to himself until you were there in front of him, in a way he'd only let himself imagine after his lover was asleep next to him and he was drifting off himself.

and oh, it burns.

he doesn't say anything about it now -- that's going to have to wait for later, at home, where things are going to need to be said. but for now, he greets you politely, watching you leave after a bout of small talk that taught him nothing at all about where you ended up after he broke your heart. and he wonders vaguely if he'll ever, ever, ever forgive himself.

the odds aren't good.

junhui. "hey stranger," he says, and even after all the time and everything that has passed between the two of you, it still makes you ache a little.

but you muster a smile, a little wave. "hey jun."

"you're here for work?" it's not really a question he's asking, because you know he already knows that that's why you're on this particular street.

"yeah," you say anyway. "and you? what brings you here?"

he smiles to himself. "just needed some fresh air."

he'll never tell you that it's because he's been religiously coming here since you blocked his number two years ago, hoping this very thing would happen.

"how have you been?" you ask him, and he fights back memories of the times he spent without you, with someone else, knowing that if he remembers them it'll show on his face.

"good," he lies. never mind that at the back of his closet is a hoodie he let you borrow, and it's hidden back there because it still smells like you. never mind that he's been spending day after day in this same stupid alley where you film those same videos for your job, hoping that you'll show up so he can see you. "and you?"

"i'm happier than ever," you tell him.

and you look it. you look happy. happier than you were with him.

with a funny feeling in his stomach, jun turns away from you with a little wave. "well, it was good to see you again. i'm glad you're happy."

he'll never come back to this street again.

soongyoung. "what are you doing here?" asks soonyoung with wide eyes.

you gesture to the man at your side. "i'm here on a date, actually," you say. and oh, thank goodness you look good, and your date (who is your longtime boyfriend, actually) looks good, because, well, soonyoung also looks good. and you're glad you've run into him at an opportune moment for you.

"oh," he says, looking at the man beside you. "uh, you must be..."

"my boyfriend," you finish for him. "this is soonyoung," you say to your boyfriend.

your boyfriend gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. he's heard all about the man who broke your heart into a thousand pieces, leaving him to pick up all the pieces and put them back together again. he doesn't mind doing it, but because of how badly you were hurt, he has spent more time than he'd like to admit wishing you'd never met the man in front of him right now. "hi," he says, shaking soonyoung's hand.

"hi," soonyoung says breathlessly. "wow, uh...nice to meet you. i'm, well..."

"my ex," you say with a smile. "it's okay. he knows."

of course he knows, soonyoung thinks to himself. of course you had to have had the discussion about how your previous boyfriend fell out of love with you.

or thought he had.

"how's ... um... i don't remember their name," you admit, trying to recall the person soonyoung had left you for.

"it didn't work out between us," he says quickly. "we broke up six months ago."

"oh," you say. "i'm sorry."

it's awkward now, the three of you standing there staring at each other, so you grab your boyfriend's hand. "well, it was good seeing you," you say as you pull him away.

you have a nice dinner with your boyfriend and even laugh over the encounter later. but soonyoung is haunted for months. because he noticed how safe and easy it was between you and your boyfriend, and it reminded him of how you used to act with him before he messed everything up.

wonwoo. as cautious and careful as wonwoo always was about everything, regret was not a common experience for him. so it was quite the shock when he found himself filled with it night after night following his split from the person he left you for.

when he'd broken up with you, you'd sincerely wished him well, and promised he'd never see you again if he didn't want to. and two years later, you'd kept that promise, never reaching out to him, never begging him for an explanation he didn't want to give, never worrying him with memories of the two of you when you'd been happy.

and this had been part of the reason why he'd broken up with his new girlfriend -- he kept remembering how unobtrusive you were. the way you fit into his life like a puzzle piece made for him. and even now, as he rereads all the passionately hateful texts his now-ex spams his phone with, he remembers you.

it's been forever since he unfollowed you on social media, but he looks you up all the same. he almost follows you again, almost likes your most recent post of you out with some friends, but thinks better of it.

you were so fair to him, so up-front and honest about everything. how unkind it would be, he thinks, to dredge up the past when you look so happy. how unpleasant for you, to be reminded of someone who hurt you so deeply.

so he shuts off his phone and sinks into bed, allowing the regret to wash over him like a wave.

jihoon. explaining that he'd fallen out of love with you was the second most exhausting task of jihoon's entire life. the most exhausting one, it turns out, was staying in a relationship with the person he'd left you for while pesky reminders of you kept flooding his brain.

after yet-another fight with his current partner, jihoon lies awake in bed, his jaw clenched, as he remembers how you'd make up with him after a fight, crawling into bed beside him and kissing his cheeks and whispering "i'm sorry", sometimes through tears, until he'd turn and embrace you back.

his current partner never apologizes or even admits any responsibility at all. as he lays there remembering how it felt to have your face buried in his neck, he comes to the shocking realization that he wishes it was you beside him still.

because with you, he knew he could always tap you on the shoulder and beat you to an apology, and it would be immediately forgiven. the guilt of having broken a heart like that is too overwhelming for him, and he suddenly needs to talk to you like he needs air in his lungs to live.

so he silently slides from bed, picks up his cell phone, and leaves the room. he dials your number from memory, having deleted it from his phone.

"your call cannot be completed as dialed," the voice says. he blinks and tries again. same response. it occurs to him that you may have blocked him for your own sanity, and the guilt intensifies, turning into tears he hates almost as much as he hates himself.

he spends the rest of the night with his phone in his hand, looking for any traces of you that may be left in the photos and memories there.

[ultraericthered]

Well actually, two hot takes. Both about Disney's Wish ('cause the Moana 2 situation just makes me wanna talk about Wish instead.)

First off, King Magnifico did not fail as a Disney Villain, regardless of what the Tubers would have you believing. He's a Disney Villain who was failed, thus whose depth of character and the nefarious nature of his villainy ended up not fully realized in the finished film we got. Because conceptually and in the moments he got that were executed the strongest, he's got all of what you'd want to see in a Disney Villain; much like the movie as a whole, all the ingredients are there and on display, which makes it gallingly noticeable that he ended up as an "alright, good enough" villain rather than the truly great one he might've been had the movie not been turned out so undercooked.

He technically aces the Three Core Tenets Of Being A Good Villain, but he's held back in his fulfillment of Tenet 2, and Tenet 1 was so bungled that you have to reach really deep to find it 'cause otherwise it's hard to know and understand him when he makes wild shifts in character rather than keep consistent, his motivations are so murky as to be nonexistent to many viewers, and his style and sense of dramatic flair is largely lifted from past Disney Villains, the only things uniquely his being how decorated Rosas is to match his aesthetics, what he can do with wishes, and that he's both a legitimate king and a married man. I think this video does best at getting to the heart of what's interesting about Magnifico in-film and what went wrong.

(Only place we disagree is that in spite of how badly it clashes with his earlier scenes, I'm in the camp prefering Second Half Magnifico to First Half Magnifico 'cause at least he finally picked a fucking lane and stops irritating me with wobbling in different, often contradictory directions. I came for a villain, might as well go full ham with that!)

That Magnifico in the final product still ends up the film's strongest and most memorable element should speak volumes to how he himself was not a failure. And I love Early Drafts/Deleted Scenes Magnifico too, he's also a fine villain in his own right from what we can gather, but there's much to appreciate about the Magnifico we ended up with in the Wish we got too. To count all the ways...

He gets a few relatable human moments (admit it - you feel bad for the guy when Asha asks about Sabino and he feels he's being used.)

The visual clue-ins with the mirrors and his reflection - notice that when he first appears and is acting kindly towards Asha while looking at her, his reflections have his back turned, like to signify he doesn't really care too much about who he's speaking to, or about anyone who's not himself for that matter. This is contrasted with later on in his villain song when his reflections come alive and he looks at them.

That little character tic of touching his hair. The reason he chooses to not wear an actual crown is he wants nothing messing up that hair!

How covetous he is towards the wishes he's given, and how that's visualized in the movie. A bit Gothel-esque, but it gets the job done.

His hamtastic performative displays and just what a show-off he is.

He has a wife with whom he has a loving but ultimately imbalanced and ill-fated relationship. (I love how even when he's going mad, he's happy to see Amaya and calls her "darling". Like with everyone and everything else, he loves her so long as she doesn't give him reason to stop loving her, based entirely around how she may service him.)

His displays of petulant anger, still somehow imposing to look at.

His silly, humorous moments and how animated he can get.

His bone-chilling cruelty, as he shifts from this cold, collected sneer to outright maniacal pleasure at what crushing wishes gains him.

His self-corruption when he gets the green eyes and green magic. In particular, how fucking deranged and scary the visuals, animation, and voice acting get for him here (Chris' delivery of lines like "I feel like I can do ANYTHING", "The Star...I must have it!", "Through me, you may serve a greater purpose.", and "I told you: I decide!" Yikes!)

How epically dastardly he gets in the climax, especially with those fucking thorny chains - Magnifico got there ahead of the Black Rose!)

And to make it better, the graphic novel adaptation adds to his part here, even managing to reconcile his earlier character material like his backstory and his pledge to protect the wishes "at all costs" with his current pure evil character in a way that further condemns him.

And of course, Chris Pines giving a very passionate and dedicated performance as the character is virtually impossible to disregard.

All that said about Magnifico, what was even the second hot take? Oh, right. For Wish, Jennifer Lee and Chris Buck really ought to have gotten Craig Gerber on board as a consultant and co-writer for the script. Lee and Buck, with Frozen II and Wish, have proven to be not up to the task of writing and executing an animated fairy tale built upon deep, heavy and complex themes and/or subtext in a way that makes them digestible to young children and satisfactory on the whole to older viewers. While Gerber, with his work on Sofia The First and especially Elena Of Avalor, has proven successful at that.

Wish already looks like it could take place in Gerber's Disneyverse, so they might as well have leaned into that with the man himself!

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Do you have any predictions for s2? Will they completely destroy the greens as many fans think?

Hello, and thank you for the ask!

Truth be told, I gave up on trying to actually predict what will happen in season 2 a while ago - because HotD writers can pull literally every plot stunt imaginable (and whatever you can imagine, it usually turns out to be even worse).

So, I would like to mention some things that could happen in Season 2:

Team Green divided because of their views on the way the war should be fought: most likely, Alicent (team "mercy and caution") vs Aegon and Aemond (team "give them no quarter") with Otto and, later, Criston somewhere in between. This is definitely not what I would like to see; however, since it's quite likely to happen I am kind of interested about Criston's attitude and actions. On the one hand, he is utterly loyal to Alicent and practically bound to take her side (Fabien mentioned this during the promo campaign as well). On the other hand, Criston is a man of war and of action; plus, while he is sworn to Alicent and it's her will he is enforcing, Targtower boys are also close and dear to him. Also, he was once shown to hesitate in carrying her orders out before, at Driftmark (Viserys was still alive and ruling back then, and that made a huge difference, though).

Aemond consumed by his desire for power (because "he's worth it" *hair toss*). It looks like quite a sure thing at this point as well; what matters is how and when it will happen. If the writers make ambition and pride a reason enough for Aemond to stop caring about his family's best interests - I, for one, am not accepting that as canon. Specifically, if he decides to deliberately hurt/try to kill Aegon at Rook's Rest (don't even get me started on this one).

Aegon embracing his role as a King and taking action (it's been pretty much confirmed by TGC several times). Well, this is one of a few good things I can see happening. I think Aegon will still be presented as someone capable of acts of cruelty (and not hesitating to commit them) - in contrast with Rhaenyra and Alicent - but these acts will be justified (although not everyone will see them this way, that's for sure).

I don't even know what to think about Alicent's character at this point. She was given one of the most inconsistent and WTF-inducing arcs in season 1, literally going from "Rhaenyra is an enemy, she will kill my children, and I would die myself before seeing her bastard son marrying my daughter" to "You will be a fine Queen, oh why are you leaving already". From what we've seen, she is not eager to start the metaphorical blasting - but how far will Alicent's unwillingness to resort to violence go? If the show opts for making her defend Rhaenyra from Aegon and Aemond's wrath (which is not a given, but still), from where I stand, Alicent's character will be completely and utterly ruined. And it's not her I will stand with.

Alys Rivers presented as a character full of mystery and dangerous charm. Her playing mind tricks on Daemon and driving him nearly crazy (crazier than he already is, that is) will probably establish her as someone to be reckoned with. I don't think her character will be given much depth this season (if only for the lack of screen time) but the teasing of Alys having something deeper about her than just being "a weird witch woman" might be there.

And the Blacks? Well, in spite of Ryan Condal and Co droning about how "the writing is unbiased, and there is no right side in the Dance. and the story is full of grey characters", I think they (save for Daemon, most likely) will remain their the-true-Queen-Rhaenyra-supporting, righteous selves. Jace, Baela and Rhaena apparently will get some personal character development this season; but will it be enough to make them less of Rhaenyra's appendages and more of characters in their own right? I have my doubts but we`ll have to wait and see.

[w4nd3ring-gh0st]

I know right now things feel like they're going to shit, but right now is the most important time to not lose empathy. I'll admit I woke up thinking there was no reason to try a keep going, but after understanding that my end is what they want, I need to live. WE need to live, even if it's just out of pure spite. You deserve to feel angry, you deserve to feel sad, you deserve to feel all these things or nothing at all because you have been failed. Hatred and misogyny are one hell of a motivator but that flame can only burn for so long until it dies. Protect yourselves and those around you in anyway that you can. There is no shame in hiding your beliefs if it can cost you your safety. You are not any lesser, and we will still be here for you when the smoke clears. Do what you have to now to make sure you and those your care for are safe. This tragedy will end one day, we will make it through this nightmare the way we did before, we will overcome this awful situation and out live this moronic man. Just PLEASE stay alive to see it.

[lakesbian]

Re: this post https://www.tumblr.com/lakesbian/715722672922902528/i-think-the-best-society-would-not-be-happy-if

I would LOVE for you to elaborate on how Amy’s whole character concept ties into this!

amy is an absolutely terrifying example of the fact that powers are 1. randomized and 2. designed to be useful in combat.

you have the people who randomly trigger with something horrifically powerful and then immediately pull a nilbog and take over a small town. you have the people who hide or downplay aspects of their power to avoid demonstrating how much damage they could do, like crucible only using the "bubble forcefield" part of his power and not the "can cook the absolute shit out of anything, or anyone, he traps inside his bubble forcefield" part of his power.

and then, as chance would dictate, you have the amys. the people with horrifically powerful abilities desperately trying to keep the amount of harm they're capable of doing under lock and key. the people trying very, very hard not to use their powers in the worst way possible. and that's fucking difficult--as chevalier observes in his interlude, powers drive you back to your lows, back to the circumstances under which you triggered.

(and every time amy uses the full extent of her power on victoria, it is when she's been driven back to the circumstances of her trigger. she triggers because she was terrified victoria was going to die and leave her alone. she impulsively changes victoria's brain because she's terrified she's going to leave victoria and be alone. she makes victoria into icktoria the wretch because she is, again, terrified of letting victoria go and being alone.)

amy is, in many ways, almost designed to piss people off. she's got one of the scariest, most useful, and most plot-important powers in the entire story. people can't hear about amy without having an opinion about what they would do with her power, and that applies to characters within the setting. there are a million different terrible-glorious things she could do with it, and yet she's...a generally pathetic, unlikable teenage girl, who has to be wheedled into giving taylor useful bugs during a slaughterhouse nine attack, who makes spiteful threats about what she could do while firmly restricting herself from healing brains. she fucking irritates people. she's got power most other people could only dream of, and all she does with it is stand around bleeding from her finger-stumps firmly rejecting anyone with an idea about how she should be using her power.

and everyone should actually be really grateful for that, because literally all of the alternatives for how she could be using it are worse.

no one would make fully good choices about having her powers or directing her in how to use them. imagine if someone like taylor or saint or rachel had amy's powers. imagine how very quickly that would all go to shit. amy's power-related decisionmaking skills are obviously awful, but they're still good enough to keep her alive and get her to the right spot to actually use her power to its full extent during gold morning. she's holding one of the most important cards in the game, and despite everything, she doesn't totally fumble it. i don't think many other characters could have done the same in her spot.

and the reason she doesn't totally fumble it is that for vast amounts of her life, she's keeping its actual intended usage under tight wraps. as far as society is concerned, she's panacea the healer. takes care of your physical injuries and neatly avoids doing anything that would make you think about how powerful she actually is, helpful or otherwise. (no viruses which make you immune to this year's flu being released into the air! we don't want people realizing that means she could release another black plague, too.) the random citizens she's healing don't know that she could turn them into something out of a junji ito comic or man after man*. they don't know that she could fine-tune their brain until they're ready to compulsively fight to the death for her. they're not thinking about how she could kill them with a touch of her pinky finger, they're thinking about how she's panacea, the healer, the cure-all girl.

they're not thinking about the fact that her power isn't supposed to be for healing. it's supposed to be for creating wretches. it's supposed to be for tapping people and making their hearts stop. it's supposed to be for hurting people in ways you did not know it was possible to hurt someone. it's supposed to be for conflict. every cape in worm is walking around with a loaded weapon sewn into their body and mind. amy is a horrifying and deeply compelling subversion of the healing-superpowers trope. worm's token healer cape, the cape with the white robe and the miracle touch, the panacea, is also one of the setting's scariest weapons.

and in worm's setting, every weapon, every power, can't help but be used. amy was carrying the weight of idolized, godlike power on her shoulders. everyone in the setting is lucky that she only faltered and never completely fell. society would not fucking be happy if they found out how much damage amy is capable of casually doing.

*the speculative evolution book seasons greasons is from. it is not good. but go look it up so you can visualize what i mean by 'turn them into something out of man after man.'

[blackjackkent]

All right. Let's go smack us a hag. :D

I left off with Rakha having met the Hag Support Group, which consists of two civilians, one very depressed cleric, and (apparently) Mayrina, who is currently a sheep.

All things considered, Rakha is not really thrilled to see Mayrina again. She hoped to come here and make an effort to learn about having normal conversations with people who have shared some of her non-tadpole-related experiences. But the last time she met Mayrina, she was still deep in the grip of her Bhaalspawn heritage, and Mayrina more or less screamed in her face for helping her escape Ethel. So an ordinary conversation seems fairly off the table.

For that matter, her only experience with sheep has been the disguised redcaps in Ethel's swamp and the time a wild magic surge turned Rakha herself into one.

[ANIMAL HANDLING - FAILED] Examine Mayrina.

Narrator: It appears to be an ordinary sheep.

To the degree that Rakha knows what an ordinary sheep is... sure.

She's sensitive enough to the Weave, though, that I think she has no trouble figuring out how to break the hex currently keeping Mayrina hostage.

Really, the biggest question is how Adrielle DIDN'T pick up on the fact that this was clearly the problem. Anyway, it's immune to fire so Rakha blasted it apart with a lightning bolt.

And as the hex fades and Mayrina emerges from the sheep transformation, there's the sudden sound of heavy boots on the stairs.

The strange, smooth-headed dragonborn that was standing behind Adrielle downstairs looks at Rakha with a strange, dreamy blankness in his gold-glowing eyes.

"You removed my hex?" he says, his gaze drifting past Rakha's shoulder. "Ah... that's annoying. I wanted to play a little longer. Auntie likes her toys broken... She's not going to be happy I had to get my hands dirty."

Rakha blinks. 'Auntie'?

It's clear enough what's happened. The dragonborn is a traitor, a spy for the hag that hexed Mayrina. He meant to betray the whole support group, and probably would have gotten away with it if Rakha hadn't arrived.

But... 'Auntie.' It's possible that all hags go by 'Auntie' and Rakha is just not aware of it... but somehow that seems unlikely.

Damn it.

Perhaps someone more practiced at being reasonable might stop to talk at this juncture, to try to find out if it truly is Ethel this man works for, despite Ethel most certainly having been killed. Rakha did, after all, come here partly with the express purpose of practicing being reasonable.

But the abrupt and unexpected threat puts her hackles up, and habit takes over.

Ready yourself to attack.

In a blink, her staves are out in both hands. She levels them before her, ready to strike... and the dragonborn just laughs.

"How cute. I see why Auntie has her eye on you." He twitches restlessly, his head cocking to one side. "They want to hurt Auntie," he whimpers. "They have the book. I will *die* before I let anyone touch a hair on her head."

Certainly he means Ethel. The hag they met south of Moonhaven is somehow still alive in spite of all Rakha's attempts to punsh her for what she did - for the false eye that still itches and throbs in its socket after her betrayal.

She is starting to get used to the fact that her anger no longer controls her like a mad animal, now that the beast in her head is gone. But it is still anger, and it still burns hot, and violence is still the best solution she knows.

"Tell the hag I'm coming for her," she growls.

The dragonborn laughs again, higher-pitched now, and his form begins to twitch and shift, the draconic features sliding away to reveal the redcap underneath. "The others I will leave to rot in this house," he hisses. "But you? I will gift Auntie your corpse wrapped in your own intestines!"

[notthestarwar]

Snippet

No children

He thinks that Shmi probably knows. She is far too perceptive, though she’s well used to hiding it. Cody imagines its one of those things that kept her alive all these years.

He slips occasionally, mentions something that’s yet to happen, and she gets this look in her eye. He sees it again, when something pops up on the news, that he’s already spoken about. He can see her stringing together the bits and pieces that he doesn’t intend to drop.

He doesn’t bring it up.

How do you raise such a thing?

I think you might know that I shouldn’t exist.

I think you might know that I am a time traveller.

I think you might know that I came here, meaning you harm and I think you invited me in to your house anyway, because that’s what kind of person you are. I accepted your hospitality in spite of my intentions and I’m afraid what kind of person that makes me.

-- break--

“Jango stop. I don’t want this.”

“Sometimes parents make decisions for their kids. This is what’s right.”

“It isn’t. you know it isn’t. Look at yourself.”

“I don’t need to.”

--break--

Jango wouldn’t stop. This man was not yet the man that Cody knew, before, but he was well on his way to becoming him.

Might Cody have a chance of helping him be someone better? Maybe.

But he could likely say the same of Anakin.

He could try and save Jango, at the cost of Anakins life, or, he could try and save Anakin at the cost of Jango’s own.

Jango’s life wasn’t his own. Without Jango, Cody had no brothers.

Would a good man agree to partner with the Kamineese?

If he saved Jango from himself they’d be gone all the same.

An impossible decision.

-- break--

And that's when he saw it:

A woman who’d die for her son.

A man, who’d kill for his own.

A boy, angry and alone.

Cody looked at Anakin, cowering in the doorway, and laid out in front of him, the bad path, he saw it.

And the path was a circle, around and around.

So he changed it.

He raises the blaster and aims for Jango. As Shmi screams and Anakin cries, he pulls the trigger and in doing so, puts a blaster bolt between the eyes of every brother he might have ever known.

Jango falls and to Cody’s surprise, he himself stays standing.

He holds a hand out in front of him, flipping it back and forth, expecting to see himself fade.

It doesn't happen.

“Oh.” He takes a breath, before mumbling. “I’m still here.”

Shmi looks down at Jango’s body; malnourished and thin, a hole burnt through his forehead, but undoubtedly the image of Cody all the same.

“Who was he?” She says quietly.

Cody looks in to Jango’s face. “My Father.” He admits, crouching down to close his eyes.

Shmi doesn’t question this, she only tilts her head. “Have you been born yet?” She asks, looking up. “In this timeline?”

He holds her gaze. “No, and nor have any of my brothers.” He says, swallowing. “I suppose now, they never will be.”

She takes this in, but she doesn’t thank him, for saving her family at the cost of his own. Cody thinks she probably knows that it wouldn’t be appreciated.

“What now?” She asks.

Cody looks back, towards Anakin, hiding in the shadow of the door.

“He became something terrible, in the life I lived.” Cody says, before adding; “I intend to make sure he never has reason to be that person.”

Shmi looks at him eyes wide.

Cody looks at his blaster, checking he has sufficient ammo. “Tell me, do you know where Watto keeps the remotes for your chips?” He says turning back to her.

She nods, slowly.

“Good, you can tell me on the way. If a good childhood can’t save your boy, nothing can.”

Snippet from my looper au wip no children

[lightandfellowship]

A Single Step

(A short Xehanort fic inspired by this ask @starlightwayfinder sent to me.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sometimes, Xehanort just...sits.

That strange (and frankly, highly suspicious) man he had met while preparing for his Mark of Mastery exam had been right, in the end: after some time, Xehanort didn't need to wear the black coat inside the dark corridors anymore.

Repeated exposure to the dense darkness within these corridors had strengthened Xehanort's heart and toughened it, much like how repeated exposure to the elements toughen the bottom of your feet after walking barefoot for miles and miles. Eventually, the skin hardens, and the sharp edge of spite, the biting chill of indifference, and the scorching heat of animosity become—for the most part—bearable. Nothing can stop you from making any trek, no matter how perilous the terrain may be.

He no longer required the protection of the coat, and sometimes, he just sits within the depths of the dark corridor. Waiting.

It doesn't usually take too long for "it" to appear.

The afterimage of his mentor.

He doesn't really know what the afterimage is, exactly. Oh, he has theories, sure, based on his own observations and what he was taught in school. But no true way to test those theories. And in any case, he doesn't particularly care about the specifics—not now, anyway.

The resemblance is striking, he thinks. No, not their appearance, for every time Xehanort has run into them in this place, their face has, without fail, been obscured by the hood of their favorite blue cloak. But their heart—their heart!—he can feel it: their emotions.

The emotions are different each time (he recalls them with ease, as if they were engraved upon his own heart: guilt, doubt, pity, grief), but he recognizes them as belonging to his mentor all the same. It's them, somehow. Were it not for the figure's ghostly translucence betraying their true nature, Xehanort could almost swear that his mentor was standing right next to him again, alive. Rhythmic waves of emotion imitating the heartbeat that he used to know so well, that used to lull him to sleep every night as a baby.

Used to.

Use—yes. He utilizes these dark corridors so frequently now. A journey of hundreds of thousands of miles, reduced to nothing more than a brief stroll. A method of travel that is quick, convenient, and covert. It would be foolish not to take advantage of all the benefits such travel provided, so of course that's why he's gotten into the habit of using the dark corridors whenever he can. For efficiency, and for proving the strength of his heart. No other reason, really.

But sometimes he doesn't pass through the corridors with the swift, purposeful pace that he ought to. Sometimes, he loiters, peering into the turbulent darkness as if looking for someone. He waits, in those halls that should not be traversed by the living.

And he just sits.

Finally, a figure coalesces several feet ahead of him. He's so used to it by now, and yet he can't help but draw in a sharp breath at the sight of it.

His mentor. Or something close to them.

Close enough.

Xehanort gets on his feet, and slowly inches his way towards the apparition. He's encountered it several times already, but has always kept a safe distance away. Today, however, will be different; today, he will indulge his curiosity.

The spirit remains perfectly still as Xehanort approaches. It doesn't react, doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't seem to notice him at all. He may as well not exist.

He's only a couple of feet away from the spirit when suddenly, something inside of him shatters. His knees buckle on their own from the shock, and he crumples to the floor without meaning to.

All at once, the pain he was so masterfully ignoring up until this point hits him in full force: the rapid, uncontrolled beating of his heart; the bone-deep ache in his legs; the soreness of his feet; the lightheadedness and stinging intakes of air that follow running out of breath.

The rough skin of his heart had finally fractured under the strain of the corridor, and the darkness that flows into the cracks feels like water rushing into his lungs.

He doesn't know what caused his heart to falter like this. Was this the spirit's doing, somehow? But the pain is so relentless, so overwhelming, that he can't focus long enough to consider the possibilities.

Endure it. Keep going.

His arm shaking, he desperately tries to grip the hand of the only parent he's ever known (known, but not the only parent he's ever loved) to steady himself, but his own hand passes right through.

He knows this will happen. He knew this would happen. But a pained sob escapes his throat regardless when he fails to make contact, soft and broken and child-like and utterly drowned out by the sea of unintelligible whispers surging all around him.

Trying to stand up in this state would be a futile effort, he realizes. Instead, he crawls the final few inches to his intended destination and collapses, curling up next to the memory of someone long gone.

And, for once on this seemingly never-ending journey of his,

he just

sits.

[qunaricatnip]

Hiiiii it's me the person who reblogged your post about the Cousland x Loghain marriage (this is my main blog but 99% of my tumblr activity is through my side blog queenmelisende sorry for the confusion lol). Lets talk about Ferelden nobility. Their marriage would be an insanely good political alliance -- the two teyrnirs of Ferelden uniting? Cailan should be quaking in his boots. You said she would eat him alive??? I am desperate for more elaboration.

hi!! this is a sideblog too so no worries! but yeah cailan absolutely should be worried but the best part is, at least in my little au, he’s like…. 12 when all this is happening so all he really knows is that uncle loghain is leaving him (and anora) and it’s gonna be a while before they can see each other again :( it’s really maric that should be worried (and is) because he had to make a lot of concessions to the couslands for bryce and eleanor to be okay letting their baby girl go clean up maric’s mess (even if she really wanted it for spite reasons).

Tl;dr siobhan cousland was planning a coup from jump because she was raised to be queen and got told no and then maric dropped the perfect opportunity in her lap with a bow and his blessing, loghain was both collateral and a prize

siobhan in this au was born before the occupation technically ended and so her parents, still in the rebellion mindset of “ferelden first” was sort of groomed to believe that she’d one day be queen of ferelden because she’s the only noble girl within marrying age of cailan right up until anora is born and maric and/or rowan lose their minds. the couslands are Important, second to only the royal family and that shows in siobhan’s upbringing- she’s very politically minded, everything is duty/responsibility/optics with her and that’s something that (imo) would and should drive loghain crazy.

Politically on paper, her and loghain are an amazing match after celia dies right up until we remember that a) the couslands have already married their son and heir to a well known/regarded antivan trading family creating ties to a foreign, unallied country without the crowns express permission right after a war and b) loghain for all his accomplishments is not a man made for politics in any capacity that man is a Follower, he’s the type of person that need to be wholly devoted to a person/cause and c) uniting the only two surviving teyrnir’s is actually a recipe for disaster because oh my god why would you even think that maric that’s giving your subjects too much power and influence even with ferelden’s weird political structure

and siobhan knows this!! she knows that the people of gwaren don’t feel safe or supported by their teyrn and abandoned by their king and she’s also been personally slighted by the crown twice now!! so she graciously concedes to step in and throw the weight of her name around to build gwaren back up to the prominence it once had before the occupation gutted the city all while subtly reminding people that it was the couslands that actually care about the people of ferelden, its cousland gold bolstering the economy, its cousland trading partners bringing ships back into port without even saying anything because she’s a mac tir now after all that would just be gauche to rely on her maiden family name. its siobhan that runs the show and every single person in gwaren knows it, loghain is just insurance in the beginning (before whoops they’re actually in love your honor)