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prettycalla · 2 months ago

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|| praeda ||

Pairing: Vampire!Geta/Reader/Vampire!Caracalla

Summary: Geta and Caracalla have never been fond of sharing anything. Somehow you end up in the midst of their games. {First posted: 17/5/25, updated 23/5/25}

Word count: 2k

Tags and warnings: Mentions of blood and violence, horror elements, no use of Y/N.

(This was a tiny blurb that got away from me, but I also don't have the time or energy to make it into a proper fic, so it's just kind of...this. Anyway. Could very vaguely tie in with my other vampire fic.)

Hours have passed. The sun, once hanging low in the evening sky, has since been dragged beneath the horizon by Apollo’s chariot.

You are beyond fatigued, nauseated by hunger and lightheaded from the stifling heat that still permeates the room. You struggle to stand, and your eyes grow heavier with each passing moment.

And still Geta stands there.

And still you dare not move.

The threshold of the room is the sole reason that he has not torn your throat out, has not drained every last drop of blood from your veins. You do not understand it, a kind of otherworldly intervention perhaps; but nevertheless, you are grateful.

His gaze has not left you, has never once wavered in the agonising time that he has kept you trapped here. His pupils, blown wide, all but swallow up the deep brown of his irises. He is something beyond even the mighty Pluto’s creation.

You need to escape. You cannot stay here. There is no sustenance to be found, and you are quickly becoming overwhelmed with thirst.

But Geta is not the only monster after you.

Beyond the walls of your prison, you can hear the howling of something far, far worse.

He waits for you.

And like Geta, he hungers.

"He can smell you," Geta says. "Do you hear him?"

It is the first he has spoken in quite some time. You flinch as his voice cuts through the silence, and a vicious snarl sounds from somewhere far too close.

"He does not know where you are," he continues, in that same low voice that leaves you feeling drowsy.

As if you have slipped into a warm bath. Soothed, safe.

A lie.

You shake your head, in an attempt to keep yourself from falling under his spell.

"My brother and I have never been very good at sharing," he says. "And it has been so difficult to keep ourselves from quarrelling over you."

Your eyes narrow in confusion. You do not understand.

"So we agreed on a wager. Whichever one of us finds you first, wins."

Nothing he has said has made the slightest bit of sense. You have no care for their petty bickering, all you want is to run as far from here as you can.

"I must admit, I have greatly enjoyed this little game of ours," he says, head tilting to one side as his gaze rakes over you.

You do not know how much more of this your heart can take. It beats viciously against your ribcage like a war drum. You can hear your pulse thrumming inside your head.

By the sharp breath Geta takes, you know he can hear it too.

An anguished scream sounds from outside, and it takes every ounce of your waning willpower to stop yourself from falling to your knees.

You have never experienced sheer terror like this, not even in your darkest dreams.

A sigh escapes Geta as he rolls his shoulders. You hear how it trembles in the still air.

"But...I believe it must come to an end now," he says.

He leans forward ever so slightly, and you instinctively stumble back.

"N-No," you stammer, struggling to make your mouth form words. "You- You cannot- I have not given you permission-"

Geta waits patiently for you to pathetically trail off in your ever mounting fear.

"While it is true that we must adhere to such a ridiculous rule...there is one little thing that you seem to have forgotten," he murmurs.

You do not like the smile that is now spreading across his face.

"And that is that every dwelling and every creature in Rome, no matter how small and snivelling they may be..."

You dare not move, blink, breathe.

"...all of it, belongs to me. And so..."

He moves again, and your eyes widen in horror.

"...I do not need your permission," he finishes, as he steps over the threshold.

A scream escapes your dry throat and you stumble backwards. Your ankle twists sharply as you do so, and you fall heavily to the ground, narrowly avoiding knocking yourself unconscious.

Geta stands over you now, and the moonlight that shines through the small window illuminates his face; once beautiful, now cruel in how it has twisted. He opens his mouth, revealing teeth as long and sharp as a wolf's.

You are no longer able to speak, suffocated with fear as you are.

It does not matter. You know he can hear you, in your mind.

"You wonder why I have toyed with you for so long," he says roughly.

He is losing control.

"Because it tastes so much better when you are at your wit's end, enveloped with fear and entirely at my mercy," he all but growls.

He drops to his knees next to you, and you cannot bring yourself to look away. You are frozen in place.

"I will be swift, I promise," he whispers, tilting your head back to expose your neck.

With a snarl that could rival that of a wild beast, he strikes. It is an unbearable pain that scorches through your entire body, and somewhere in the distance, you hear a scream. Was it yours?

Then, the most pleasurable feeling washes over you, leaving you arching against Geta's mouth. It is unlike anything you have ever experienced in your life, and you never want it to leave you. The urge to fight is now gone entirely, and your body slackens in Geta's hold.

Darkness engulfs you before long, and it seems as if your fate is to be left in the hands of monsters.

Taglist: @glassbxttless @getaapologist @lover-rep-fanfic @x-vadon @dubiousmetamorphosis @bib200 @fandom-princess-forevermore @robinbuckleywife

#i'm not deleting it since i put a lot of work into it #but i'm really not happy with this #anyway #emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #emperor geta x you #geta x you #vampire au #prettycalla writes #angie writes #emperor vampire au

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crooked-wasteland · 2 months ago

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Alright, Let's Attempt Some "Good Faith" Criticism:

Part 1: Medrano is also a terrible Director

My post about The Circus was sniped with a comment that feels like Medrano herself wrote it. I'll function in the belief that it actually is what Medrano intended, and then explain why it still doesn't work in practice.

Firstly, before I even attempt to deconstruct this comment, I need to clarify that Bad Faith has nothing to do with author intent. But it seems this is how the fandom and Medrano herself misuse the term. Bad Faith is a philosophical term, not a literary one. It means to be inauthentic or dishonest, not in a compulsive manner, but intentionally.

Bad Faith IS promising to do something you know you have no intention of doing.

Bad Faith IS knowing you are doing something selfishly while pretending to be altruistic.

Bad Faith IS denying your obvious reality.

Bad Faith is NOT believing that an Author's intentions are flawed or failed to be executed.

Bad Faith is NOT reading malice into something that wasn't intended to have it.

Bad Faith is NOT "making mistakes".

Bad Faith would be extrapolating that Medrano is a rapist herself due to her love of the trope. Or claiming to think poorly of Medrano in order to rile up other people's emotions when you really don't care.

It is a Lie, not a Disagreement.

There is no truth in art, and no "right way" to interpret what you see on the screen. The way people feel about Stolas' and Blitz's dynamic will never be "Bad Faith". Because it is a wholly real and unique experience to those who have interacted with the material.

So the main disagreement is that I see Stolas as a narcissist based on his patterns of behavior. And the irony is that as Medrano has become more insistent of trying to "correct" that image, the more it actually reinforces the perception for myself and most other people. This is not bad faith, this is now miscommunication.

Additionally, Death of the Author is NOT Bad Faith. It is a literary reading of the story with the intentions of the author removed to reflect how the work the Author made is connecting to those engaging with the material.

It says so much that Medrano and her ilk believe we are lying about how her work makes us feel due to the poor quality of writing and direction. In fact, the assumption of dishonesty is itself a source of bad faith when it is used in this manner. Not because it perceives malice, but because it creates a false reality for the simple objective of not having a fair conversation.

Instead of seeing that once art is made public, everyone is allowed to have their own experience, or even acknowledging that the fact Medrano is asked so many questions to clear up her bad writing to even consider that maybe she is actively failing as a director as well. Instead we are somehow inauthentic because we don't agree with her, because she feels entitled to her work even after letting it free.

Which, if that isn't a great encapsulation of the problems between the characters of the show themselves, idk what is.

To breakdown this wall of text, this person is saying that Stolas meant "Ravish" in a way that is no longer in use.

The commenter insists that Stolas was actually referencing Blitz having previously stolen from him as children. And somehow extrapolates a bizarre fantasy of Blitz having returned a quarter of a century later to also steal Stolas, like Blitz stole all his stuff.

To be genuinely frank, the idea that this is readily accessible to any degree is demented. The term Ravish being used in this way is not a good term. This goes into bad writing, because I think we all have ideas of what certain words mean.

When I say sad, I mean a gloomy heaviness of an emotional kind. Like the grey cloud over someone's head that may start raining at any moment. It's a feeling of a depressed and subdued mood. Whereas the word distraught means frantic. High, negative energy. It's a panic-stricken sadness. Or even Depression, where the feeling of sadness may not even be tangible, but the similar oppressive heaviness inside one's soul is almost palpable. Grief-stricken is almost like a sense of fear mixed with sadness. A form of painful emotional horror that consumes the victim with a deep and pervasive sadness.

Words have built in connotations.

Ravish under the archaic use literally implies violence as a default. To Ravish something from someone implies the use of force. Meanwhile, the more current definition of Ravish still implies an almost carnal instinct. Something sudden like a viper's strike, but instead of venom it implies bliss. It is still implying something abrupt and physically stimulating.

And if you do not have a wide vocabulary, you will inappropriately misuse words by not understanding their implications. So while this may be a retconned, or even valid explanation from Medrano herself, it doesn't work on multiple levels.

In writing, it doesn't work because everyone who first saw that scene believed Stolas was implying that Blitz had come to have sex with him. Mainly because of this:

It's clear from this sequence that Stolas is viewing Blitz sexually. It contradicts the idea that Stolas had any other intentions, specifically because we see this from his perspective with the pink haze of lust and infatuation around Blitz. Add to it the unnecessarily awkward porn talk by the Hellhound guard and Stolas' blushing after the fact, we know what Stolas is feeling and thinking through nonverbal direction. And he's definitely not thinking about that giant bag of stuff Blitz stole from him.

Second, it contradicts Stolas' character. He's supposed to be intelligent. He finds Blitz's really obscure horse joke funny, but it is only funny to people who know things. We see Stolas' favorite things are books by how he is going through his library with young Blitz when they are children.

So Stolas would know the implications of a word like Ravish. It could have worked if Stolas was in some way upset over Blitz stealing from him, but he clearly is not from the moment they lay eyes on each other. Ravish would never be used for unimportant trinkets. The connotation is that it implies a struggle or having something precious taken from you against your will. And Stolas, being book smart, would know this fact. So him misusing the word in such a way also breaks his character, because it shows the book-smart guy is actually unable to learn from books.

Meanwhile, this is Blitz:

Doesn't take much rocket science to see Blitz is scared. The dynamic is on full display on how Stolas feels (he's seeing this as a porno script) and Blitz feels literally helpless. It's clear in this sequence that Blitz's is trying to gain some control over the situation only for Stolas to shut him down. And Blitz is both resigned and intimidated. He doesn't know what to expect going into this room and it's clear he doesn't think it is going to be anything good.

So when Stolas throws out that Blitz is there to "Ravish" him, you see Blitz concoct the scheme to get the book in real time.

When Blitz says "Oh, yeah...!" You can see it animated on his face how he is trying to come up with a plan to gain some ground. He sees the book, has a thoughtful look while the "Sexy music" plays (another layer of clear indication that Ravish was always intended to mean something sexual by Stolas) before leaning into the setup.

And here Stolas outrightly refutes the belief that he ever thought Blitz came to steal from him. Theft does tend to fall under "nefarious" actions, and if Stolas believed Blitz broke in to steal from him while everyone was distracted at the party, well, he wouldn't be saying this. He genuinely thinks Blitz is there for him specifically.

This line prohibits the audience from linking together the current situation with Blitz's childhood actions entirely. It signals that Stolas either doesn't care at all about Blitz being a thief, or he doesn't even realize he was stolen from to this day. So the idea that "Ravish" was in reference to that setup is soundly put to bed.

Then the two sit down and Stolas starts wanting to "reconnect", like an awkward coffee date after a one night stand. Due to the absolute strangeness of his horny fantasy, it's a good faith assumption that he wants this to be more than just some random sex, he wants a connection. Asking what Blitz does for work and getting panicked when Blitz admits to being an assassin.

Frankly, the best bit of characterization is that Stolas legitimately thinks for a second that Blitz may have been hired to kill him.

Anyway, this is going to have to be split into two parts because I only can post 10 pictures and I've already posted 7 and we still need to cover Blitz's perspective. So, let's call it here.

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #spindlehorse critical #comment response #media analysis #bad faith #lets talk about it #anti stolas #anti stolitz

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etherealily · 2 months ago

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ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ // ꜰʀɪᴇᴅʀɪᴄʜ ʜᴀʀᴅɪɴɢ

Friedrich Harding + fem!reader. Based on this ask <3

My other fics, if you have the time.

Note : Haven't done physics since high school, don't be smart alecks in the comments. Also, I somehow wrote pure love? No angst? Ew.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You're a modern marvel, and he's a futuristic businessman looking to invest.

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"Women are not common in this line of work."

His tongue's close to the mouth of his cigar, and he wonders for a moment if that may accidentally send off the wrong message. Entice you, perhaps. Seduce you. Inadvertently offend you.

"But not unwelcome?" A tilt to your lips. A sip of your wine, and his eyes reluctantly follow the drops down your throat as you gulp.

"Not at all." He's not sure how to do business with a woman, truly. He's trying to be respectful, but he's lost. Did that smirk mean you wanted his business or wanted him? Or both? Or neither?

"You are... a feminist, then, I take it?"

"A feminist? What a novel word. Is it French?"

"It is, indeed. Fourier penned it down first. Means someone who believed women and men can belong in the same opportunities, if I am not mistaken."

"But they do not."

"Come again?"

"You would not be able to imagine a man in the art of child-rearing and a woman sweating in a factory, now could you? Well, unless there is something gone terribly wrong in their lives. A loss of their spouses, perhaps, leading to him to raise or her to provide."

"And this is your segue into saying something has gone terribly wrong with the deal?"

He smirks. Beautiful. "Precisely. Your father and my father had been in business decades ago, and had a fixed deal. Which was expertly designed to benefit both sides back then, but times have changed, wouldn't you agree?"

"The deal is outdated?"

"Very much so. Aged like... milk, perhaps, though I suspect our fathers hoped for wine.", he replies, licking his lips before he leans back to rest his arm on the back of the exquisitely crafted chair you have allowed him to seat himself in.

"I can give you this...", you say, punctuated with a tap of your finger on the topmost layer of the collection of photos (expensive to procure, he notes. You must have fit into your inheritance of the business perfectly) "And throw in its newer model, as well, and lower it to the same price as the original, but that's all I can do."

"But it appears the original has increased in price.", he observes, one knee over the other.

"I assure you, Herr Harding, no price increase is without reason. Tough times, wouldn't you agree?"

His tongue rolls around to the back of his molars, before he shakes his head. "What else can you offer me?"

You lean forward. "This, this, and perhaps an anchor or two."

"For?"

"Twenty-five."

He snorts. "And if I walk out right now?"

"I will close the door behind you. I do not wish to let in a draft."

Audacious.

"You need to help me out here, I'm afraid.", he smiles, courteous and professional. It doesn't matter how breathtaking you were, this was a business meeting.

"Trust me, Herr Harding, this is me helping you out."

"There has to be something you can do. I cannot, in good conscience, you see, unjustly increase my procurement costs while our profits stay stagnant."

You point. "Ah. Stagnant, but never bad."

"No one would say no to more money, would they, madam?"

You laugh at that, though hushed and polite. "Alright. Three of the new models, then. Three anchors. No originals."

"The new models at the price of the originals?"

"Yes."

He stands, his hand out. "You have a deal, madam."

"Thank you, sir."

Your handshake's firm, he notes. You've either been rigorously trained, or you're made for this.

"I do, however, have a condition, Herr Harding, one that I know my father set, but not rigidly enough, not even nearly, and all our customers skirt around it."

He nods, his brows furrowing for a moment, before he sighs. "The weaponry."

"The weaponry.", you affirm. "Herr Harding, we provide solely for cruise ships and merchant ships, not military ships, not ones which create havoc in the oceans."

"You refer to the HMS Medusa.", he mutters, attempting to fix his hat on just perfect so that you are not privy to the bulging vein on his forehead. He recalled the horror stories his father told him about sea-wars, and conversely, the horror stories he'd been told of his business partner who refused to take part in naval ship-building.

"It is said to be huge, stacked with carronades, and it is already the talk of the town, despite having just been ordered this year.", you explain, your hand gesturing to the door of the study so that you may walk him out.

The clicking of heels overlap, just as your voices do.

"But madam, military ships are the new—"

"I am aware, but it was my late father's wish—"

"I understand that, however, you must think of how it looks for me to refuse my customers - the Navy, essentially - simply because you do not wish your accessories part of a military effort.", he reasons, his fingers skirting around the rim of his hat.

"These are my conditions, Herr Harding. I will have my people draw out the deal, and if you are not interested, simply do not sign. I bid you a good evening."

His first time dealing with a woman was proving to be the last time he'd ever want to.

Friedrich had grown up watching his Papa at the factory, his little feet straining to keep up with Herr Harding's purposeful strides as he moved with his hands behind his back, his workers earning warnings, instructions, and approval alike from their boss.

Now, he is the Herr Harding, and he, too, strode with his hands pinned behind him, moustache twitching every time that he sees something he approves of. "Good job, Johann.", he mutters offhandedly, before his eyes fixate on something approaching him.

The annoying "businesswoman" who could not even lower her price for one of her oldest, most trustworthy business partners. You.

Yet, he remains civil, cordial, even, as he walks to you. Although, it's hard to remain himself when the sunset on the horizon strategically behind you blazes the edge of your hair just so. It's as though your hair's dripping Sun.

"You might have written, I could have sent a rider to bring you on horseback."

"Ah, that's no trouble. I quite like walking by the port. The sea breeze calms me."

"So, this is a random visit, then?"

Your brows furrow. "No, it is mentioned in the drawn-up agreement that you signed. We come and ensure our materials are not being used on a war ship, or anything to do with the military."

He fights a scoff and suppresses an eye roll. "Right. I must've missed that. It is the first time this has ever happened. Do you mean to say, all these decades, you have had spies?"

You chuckle at that, shaking your head. "No, no, this is a new condition that we added. We— Herr Harding."

You've noticed, it seems.

"Those are cannons."

"That will be covered. They will be tucked in safely to the—"

"Herr Harding, it was my father's wish not to inadvertently induce violence, because his father, my grandfather, said to him—"

"Military ships are the new necessity.", he grits out, patient and firm.

"My father believed—"

"Your father believed that he could bring popularity to such an imbecilic concept as "cruise ships", madam! They have never, and will never exist ; there is no one with such an interest in the sea besides pirates and dolphins, and your father, god rest him!"

Your scoff (and what would have been a very biting retort, he's sure) is cut off when the foghorn sounds. It seems to give you enough of a jolt not to say something you do not mean, although Friedrich knows that what he's just said had crossed a line.

"You are a liar, then, Herr Harding."

His arms open, almost like a hug, although you know it is not. "I am a businessman, madam."

"A liar. We should not like to do business with you again."

"You cannot afford to lose us as customers!", he calls to your retreating figure. "You know this!"

"My father used to tell your father everything, but those times have changed! You and I are not best mates, Herr Harding! I have gained a lot more customers than you know of!"

That gives him pause.

Truth of the matter was that he could not afford to lose your business.

He sighs. God. Doing business with a woman? Hell. No wonder "feminism" was such a novel phrase. Hopefully it stays in France.

His hat presses against his chest as your maid opens the door.

"Is the Madam in?"

He's not sure what they call you, but he's sure they won't take it kindly if he used their Lady's first name so casually.

"Sir, it has nearly gone midnight."

"It is alright, Frieda.", a voice is heard, and his brows bunch together, paired with a squint of his eyes, and he can almost make you out in the bluey dark of the night, your beauty highlighted by the vague orange tint of the maid's candlelight. What a challenge you were proving to be. "Let him in."

His gaze is fixed on the floor when you excuse yourself to tighten your robe's knot, and then, he dutifully follows you into your study, which is surprisingly already sparkling with gentle glows of burning candles throughout, a gold sheet over the dull browns he'd been privy to not a month before.

"This is wildly improper, Herr Harding."

"Yes, yes. I am aware. I simply wished to convey my apology. I... spoke out of line, and I hurt you. I, of all people, know how tender the name of a father is in a child's head, how precious, and it was a line I did not wish to cross."

"Is that it?"

He huffs. He could leave while he's in the safe zone, having apologised for both the rudeness and the late-night visit. But when has Friedrich ever been able to resist a tiny peek past someone's walls, especially someone as exquisite as you, in your nightrobe, repeatedly running your hands through your hair to ensure the results of sleep (or tossing and turning) left it?

"No. If you have time, I'd like to go over the next order."

You raise a brow for a moment, before you scoff. "Unbelievable."

He, for one, did not expect this. "Come again?"

"Midnight, on a Sunday, and you expect—"

"I'm sorry, I'm confused, how does the day matter?"

"No one reads the contracts!", you whine, shouldering past him and causing him to lurch forward to hold onto the table for balance. You return rather huffily, dropping a tiny stack of papers identical to the one delivered to his house nearly a month ago for him to sign, onto the table with a flutter. "We've adopted Industrial Britain's idea of a "week-end", though they have only Saturday afternoons off. We have a five day workweek. It's novel, but I've found it highly increases my employees' spirits, and they work better."

His finger slides across the page as he reads, his lips mouthing the words before his striking blue eyes move up to yours, brimming with incredulity. "You're telling me that two days of the week, neither you, nor your employees work? And you've somehow managed to gain customers in this... this... chaotic new system of yours?", he splutters, his hands running through his hair.

"It intrigues people that my company's services are not available every day of the week, it makes it seem scarce and exclusive and—"

"Mad! I'm in business with a madwoman, a child, as well, as I've found out from due research on my part."

"I am twenty, I am no child!", you retort, stacking up the papers with aggressive taps onto the table, before you move past him to place them back.

"Two decades you've lived on this planet, then, and more than half that time, you were a child, a non-conscious entity that merely did as told!", he spits, his arms folded so as to not clench and reveal just how vexed he was.

"And, what, you've got a couple decades on me, have you?", you scoff, mirroring his stance. "You're twenty-five, Friedrich, you are considered young in this world, as well!"

The use of his first name is what sets him off. How dense of him to expect the same courtesy of professionalism from a twenty-year-old, a girl at that, that he so kindly provided? It's almost like your very presence disturbs the air around him, tugs at the very ends of his self-restraint, offends his sense of propriety.

His hand is on you in an instant, the soft curve of the side of his palm aligning with your jawline, his index and thumb digging into your cheeks on either side, so hard he could feel your pulse. "Yes. That's half a decade wiser, little girl.", he hisses, ignoring the rage in your eyes in favour of glancing down at your lips.

It's almost as if you're aware of every silly, sinful, wrong thought that's just permeated through his brain that instant, because you slap him away, the impact echoing through the room.

He knows what's coming. It's what any self-respecting woman would do. But before you shriek 'get out', he's going to attempt to salvage this wreckage of a business relationship.

"If you are so against ships on the offensive side, enlighten me with your plans for how ships — even merchant ones — may be able to defend themselves from being seized by pirates or enemies of the Crown.", he challenges, breathily, because he's just come this close to heaven, and hadn't even made his presence known at the gates.

Your demeanour shifts, a split second frown on your brows. "Come again?"

"You have any ideas for a ship that runs solely on defence? Because I'll tell you something, if you manage, that, you'll be a pioneer."

You suck on your teeth, eyes dancing around the room. "Do I have your word to maintain secrecy?"

"Of course."

"Herr Harding.", you warn.

"Yes, you have my word."

"Welcome, Herr Harding, to the future."

It's good there's a lack of light in this room, because it'd have been over for his dignity had you seen his jaw slacken.

"Now, believe it or not, growing up, I was quite the patriot. Quite the skeptic, too, although those often go hand-in-hand.", you begin, gesturing for him to duck as he nearly collides with a hanging model of a ship.

"And I, too, asked my grandfather and father how they hoped to engage solely in non-violence. I thought, should our enemy attack, we must be properly armed to strike back."

He follows you through the expanse of what most houseowners would use as a wine cellar, traipsing past tiny models of ships with labels he can't read, because you refuse to linger long enough with the lamp.

"Then, I realised, a good offence is worth nothing if your ship has already acquired a heavy amount of damage."

"So... you have come up with a preventative measure? Some form of device that can detect offensive intention?"

The glint in your eyes travels to your mouth as you grin. "Not quite, Herr Harding."

He loves this, he decides. There's something about the excited, almost manic way you move around, floaty, dreamlike, angelic, as you speak about what he assumes is the only thing that brings you joy and solace alike, since your father's passing.

"What if you could detect the approach of another ship, as well as its speed and direction?"

Friedrich tilts his head. "Surely you don't mean to suggest—"

"This contraption, Herr Harding, can do two calculations at once. First, the speed of the waves in general will move this knob any which way.", you demonstrate, tapping your nails on the glass. "However, this knob is for any irregularity, any... ripples, I would say, that disturb this regular pattern. Ripples big enough not to be a whale or dolphin, that is."

Remarkable. He must remember not to gasp. "Seems there are plenty variables."

You seem genuinely pleased by that. "A man of science. Good. Yes, this is a prototype. I'm working on it. However, this...", you declare, moving around the unnaturally long table to another model. "A propeller that minimises cavitation—"

"Propellers? For big ships?"

"Why not? David Bushnell did it in 1776. Why can we not?", you ask, a glimmer of mischief in your tone. "Now, these minimise cavitation, which will minimise noise. And less noise means..."

"They won't see us coming."

"That's on the offense-side, Herr Harding. I mean to say that we can creep past them, most likely. I also have a method of creating safe fog that envelops around the ship but not the crew."

He's in absolute awe.

He settles in the study armchair upstairs with a huff after you two climb the arduous stairs, without invitation, though he has a nagging feeling that the two of you had gone far past that.

"You do not mean to tell me you come up with these alone?", he muses, the question a scream in the tranquil of your study at one in the morning.

"You do not mean to tell me you run your business alone?", you retort.

"You are fascinating.", he murmurs, and you pretend you didn't hear it.

"Am I allowed to include these in my ships? Or will it take a while to perfect?"

"It will take a while."

He nods. "Fair enough. I feel honoured to have seen these."

You seem quite pleased at that, a form of childlike validation, it seems.

He points at you with a single ringed finger, with playfully narrowed eyes to boot. "You tell me the moment it's ready, alright? The propeller and the... the fog... contraption. Yes?"

You nod, and he stands, his fingers drumming at his waist. "Anything else?"

You shake your head. "I will give you the regular order by...", you mumble, flicking through pages and pages of a rough yet new book, presumably a ledger. "The fourth?"

The corners of his lips curl down in acknowledgement. "Alright."

He reaches over to the table behind you, nearly desperate for a taste of heaven once more. But he is nothing if not a gentleman, so he clutches onto the hat he'd been pretending to reach for. "I shall take my leave. Thank you for bearing with me tonight."

Doing business with a woman was tiresome, but a business with an inventor? Fantastic, magic, even.

Friedrich isn't sure when his nails had become this blunt. Surely he had a lot more left to chew? He flexes his hands before him. No, he has not got anything left but skin to chew. It's tempting, but he wouldn't want blood to stain his legal documents as he signs them.

Perhaps one day, there will be an invention where a message once sent can receive a reply immediately, without the sender having to anxiously await it. Hell, perhaps you'll invent it.

For now, however, he has to wait the stipulated three days. You live too far, he thinks. Unnecessary.

Today, ideally, is when the return letter should have arrived.

Nine words is all he'd written.

Nine words and that had taken, possibly seventy-two hours to reach you, and another seventy-two for a letter back to reach him.

He wishes it would reach, but he sits, wringing his hands together, a bit too close to his candle.

He contemplates attempting the trick many a friend of his has shown him, swiping a finger through the flame, but recalls that this is possibly the hand he will have to use to place a ring on your finger.

If you accept.

The fog of the early morning, and the fog from trying out your fog-contraption amalgamate into what can only be known as the eeriest blanket Friedrich has ever found himself cloaked in.

But he finds himself cloaked in anticipation a moment later, because something nearly angelic, a silhouette of sorts that seems equal parts ominous and ethereal. He knows it's you.

As you get closer, however, his mind begins to play tricks on him. You're either holding the letter he sent you, or some sort of cleaver meant to mutilate him, and in this fog, he's sure he'd be left unprotected. He's rooted to the spot.

"'I have a proposal. A real one this time.'? What is that supposed to mean?"

It is the former. The letter.

He cocks his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. The daftest, most dexterous girl he's ever loved. "You do not understand? I thought I was the epitome of clarity."

"No, by all means, be vaguer.", you hiss, waving the letter around in front of his face. "Perhaps I'll understand in about a century."

Shaking his head, Friedrich moves closer. "Did you see what came with it?"

"Yes.", you mutter, handing him the necklace. He folds your fingers around it, gently pushing it back to you.

"The ring in it, acting like a pendant? It is for you. Clear now?"

You remind him of a statue, the way you're looking at him, the only indication that you are alive being the way your eyes dart between his.

"Clear now?", he repeats, fingers reaching for your earring. "Lovely is the woman that wears diamonds."

No one has ever said that in his life. He's sure you're smart enough to figure that out, but you say nothing.

"These are pearls.", you scoff, grateful for one bit of banter, one subject change, at the very least.

He nods, biting his lip. "True. But this is not.", he murmurs, tapping on the ring resting on your palm, along with the chain around it.

"I—"

"I do not wish to be unprofessional, and I definitely do not wish to embarrass you, in any way, shape or form, because I have given you more than a tiny peek— no, an endless view behind my walls, and as a businessman... well, you know more than most how that is a suicide in the business world. I— I am afraid I am rambling, and taking up far too much of your time."

Shaking your head offhandedly, you rub the delicate chain between your fingers, your mind clearly elsewhere.

"You do not have to give me an answer that you do not want to give. You do not, in fact, have to give me an answer at all. But you did come onto this pier, to my port, because you wanted... at the very least, to know more."

You don't respond, so he pushes. "Am I right in assuming that?"

"I don't know why I came."

"I don't know why I wrote. We are in the same b— well, ship."

That earns a pity-laugh out of you.

Sighing, Friedrich is forced to shake his head for the thousandth time in your presence, and he's prepared to do it for the rest of his life, if you'll have him. "Here."

"What?"

"May I?", he asks, his palms hovering over your shoulder until you nod with permission. He places them on your shoulders, gently steering you to face the ship. "That's your fog-contraption."

He sees you smiling.

"The propellers are, of course, not visible, but I can show you the plans later."

You're still smiling.

"Look at the ship. Our ship. Your ship."

You do, and he swears he just saw a spark fly in your eyes. God.

"And now, look at me. The only question you need to answer is whether you can look at both the ship and me the same way."

Your lips part, and he's not sure if you're simply amused that he's compared himself to a ship, to your life's work, or if you're about to say something.

It seems to be neither.

You just keep looking at him, and it's throwing him off, frankly.

"What is it?" Perhaps you cannot see him in this fog.

"I'm not—"

Not in love with you.

Not interested.

Not an idiot.

Not ever going to reciprocate.

"Not what?"

"Not sure that's fixed right.", you say, and he looks over his shoulder. The fucking contraption. Teach him to love an inventor. "It's getting caught in the— hold on."

You make for the ship, but he grabs your arm, close enough that it seems like you're in the glistening study again, illuminated solely by candlelight and love. However, his fingers do not jab into your cheeks this time, no, this time, they flow against your features, jaw clenching, throat bobbing as the words he wishes to say are somehow adhered right there.

"I will not hold on.", he says, sternly. "Either kiss me, or give me an explanation, but I will not be made to wait."

He's sure he's inches away from throwing himself into the murky waters beside him.

"My affections may be seen as offensive, or seen as repulsive, or even, unfortunately, disrespectful, but I find comfort in the fact that they are at least seen.", he murmurs, his forehead against yours, tiny little kisses blooming on each of your knuckles.

He's really, desperately hoping your little fog machine works, because the last thing he needs are his employees seeing a younger woman reject him, especially with the bluntness you seem to possess and wield.

"Are they seen? Tell me they are seen. They are seen, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Are they reciprocated?"

"I'm not sure."

A tilt of his lips. "But there is a chance."

Nodding, you shrug. "Yes."

"You're a scientific mind. Tell me the chances. Not in percentages, I can never comprehend them."

A small laugh escapes you. He wants it to ring through his ears until he's driven further into insanity. "A good one."

"Air-travel-being-invented-by-tomorrow-good, or I-can-kiss-you-now-good?"

It's cheeky, he knows, and he knows you're amused, if your scoff is any indication. "Well, you know, I think it may take a few decades, but air travel may be—"

"Teach me percentages so I can tell you which feature of yours occupies which percentage of my heart.", he murmurs, shaking his head with a breathless "Shh-shh-shh." at your imminent snarky retort.

Friedrich will let you talk later. For now, as his lips move with yours and the fog acts like the veil you will wear when he weds you, he'll do the talking.

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islandofsages · 2 years ago

Note

Hey ! I wanted to request a Ignihyde!Male!Reader that look like a little like Grim ? Like, they have the same ears and tail, the same fire (even if the reader controls his fire better than Grim) and people think they are from the same family/are connect ?

Just Grim and Reader looking at each other and asking to themselves if they have just meet their secret brother, and Ace, Deuce, Ortho, Idia and parental figure!Trein being confused to their friend (Grim for Adeuce, Reader for Ortho and Idia) having (a possible) brother.

(Ignore it if you don't want to write it)

Have a good day.

characters: ace, deuce, the shroud brothers and trein x male ignihyde reader

tags: platonic, fluff, imagines + scenario format; implication of yuu, mention of azul

warnings: nothing

author's notes: sorry this took a while! and that i strayed a bit again help. hope you like this <3

You’re one of the only beastmen in Ignihyde - and you’re okay with that. It gets a little lonely at times but that’s nothing new for an Ignihyde student. People mind their own business, you mind yours. And the only friends you have, in this case the Shroud brothers, basically forget that you’re different from the others. Days are hardly interesting, despite the college’s many atrocities - or maybe because, and now you’re desensitized.

Until one day, you spot a creature, all feline-like and sitting on someone’s shoulder. Okay, not the weirdest thing you’ve seen at NRC so far, so you’re about to shrug it off. Then you see it; a tail and a pair of ears that are eerily similar to your own. What’s next, it can manipulate fire as freely as you do?

“Hey guys, I’ve got a new trick up my sleeve. Watch this!”

One thing you didn’t expect for it to have something in common with you is that it can talk. Though maybe you should be less surprised, considering even the paintings on the walls can talk in this place. But still. You forget that you should be expecting something from the words it just spouted and are caught off guard when it starts spewing fire next. This creature is way too talented at throwing out stuff from its mouth, you think as you jump out of the way just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp.

“Grim, you can’t just spit fire whenever you want to! We’ve been over this!”

A redheaded student in front of you starts to scold the creature whose name is Grim apparently. He looks familiar but you can’t quite put your finger on it-

“You’re just jealous, Ace.”

Oh, you feel like Idia’s talked about this Ace person before. He described him as “crafty” and seemed to think of him as some sneaky extrovert but you’ve learnt to not put much faith in Idia’s descriptions of other people. No offense to your friend but at least he’s somewhat self-aware of how anxious he gets around others.

“I definitely am not??? This is the same thing that almost got us expelled, you know!”

You feel like you may also have heard of a group of first years almost getting expelled until they somehow got their hands on a magestone the headmage told them to get, as if you can just swing by a store and buy one. You know how hopeless Headmage Crowley and dumping a lot of work on a bunch of freshmen is in character but you can't help but feel disappointed anyway.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but I agree. You really have to learn how to keep your pride in check…”

Another student, blue-haired and you assume is Ace’s friend, chimes in on the scolding. The student whose shoulder Grim has made himself at home only shook their head, most likely accustomed to his behavior. You watch them bicker as you ruminate on the resemblance of that strange creature to you.

After a few minutes of thinking (and walking so that you don't lose them), you decide that the fact that you were almost a victim of Grim’s flames is strong enough of an excuse to allow you to approach the friend group.

“Hey. You four.”

They turn around to notice you finally (though you can hardly blame them – save for Idia and his glow-in-the-dark-esque hair, Ignihyde students are not noticed as much). It takes them a second to realize that you're no ordinary student. When they do, their jaws fall open, letting out a wild “Huh?!”.

Grim himself jumps off the quiet student's shoulder and stands on his two feet. The day is getting crazier and crazier the longer you entertain this coincidence. He then points at you and begins his bullshit-spewing again.

“W-Who are you?! And why do you look like me?!”

You should be asking the same questions right now but the lack of answers for them makes any word on the tip of your tongue die before they can escape. Plus, the way he's saying his words sound more accusatory than you’d like to admit.

“Don’t look at me! I'm just like this!”

Grim doesn't seem satisfied by your answer and honestly, you can't blame him. You both are quite confused by what's happening at the moment. You two resort to unconsciously recreating the two-Spidermen-pointing-at-each-other meme. The other three students also seem to be at a loss from what they're witnessing.

Ace Trappola

He would laugh at Grim and point out how he's not special anymore but he's too stunned to even say anything (at least for now)

He looks you up and down again then pinches himself to make sure he’s not hallucinating

He feels like he should be less surprised and that the uncanny resemblance could just be passed off as a coincidence but he has to admit, seeing you two as not brothers may prove to be a little difficult for him

He gets used to you two over time and stops questioning it altogether. Sometimes he even forgets

At times, he’d poke fun at Grim and say how you two are way too different personality-wise to even be correlated in some way

But deep down, he’s happy for Grim he found someone similar to him

He won’t say that aloud obviously.

Deuce Spade

His eyes dart from you to Grim then you again. This goes on for a minute

He almost asks you if you can also breathe fire so recklessly

He ends up interrogating you, like a parent doing a background check on the friend you just brought home

Sooner or later, he concludes that you two are “bros”, despite not having the same feline characteristics

He’s glad Grim found his long-lost brother (he gets a smack from Grim for this)

He would notice how Grim’s smiles oftentimes are wider when you’re around, probably feeling some kind of kinship with you

And he gets that - since you all are “bros” now, he’s more than willing to have your backs now

After sorting things out with the freshmen, you return to your cave like the nerd that you are, feeling more exhausted than usual. To your surprise, you also return to two nerds being in said cave. A Shroud brothers ambush is not something that happens too often.

“Hey (Y/N). We decided that your place needs trashing. Also Ortho wants to try out this new game he found but it needs at least three players.”

Sounds about right. The geeks are geeking out as usual, just at your place this time. But you need them to hear about how crazy today was. You open your mouth to say something-

“I tried to convince him to get Azul but you know how stubborn my brother is.”

Ortho cuts you off and you force a nervous chuckle as a response. You agree but you should really get this off your chest-

“Hm? Did you guys hear something~?”

Idia teases and it brings a genuine laugh out of you and Ortho. Then you take a deep breath and release it. Third time’s the charm, right? You try again.

“Listen, you two. You wouldn’t believe what happened today.”

They perk right up at the promise of gossip (specifically, gossip related to you). You jump a bit from the excitement, finally glad you got their attention. Your hands start to gesture while you tell today’s story.

“I found this… cat. His name is Grim? He has the exact same ears and tail that I do! And he can breathe fire too! Except he does it with no regards to his surroundings whatsoever. That’s kinda concerning.”

Idia Shroud

“You saw wittle Gwimmy??? Man, I’m so jealous… I’ve been in need of some cat therapy for a while now…”

By the sound of it, he already knows who he is. You gasp dramatically at this, feeling betrayed at the fact he never told you about him

He tells you to chill and simply excuse that he didn’t think it was that important or anything

Of course, at first he was shocked but then he pondered about the coincidence - concluded that weirder things have happened and can happen

You’re unamused by this but it is very Idia. You suppose if you have a curse where it burns blot in your body nothing can really be seen as weird

Still, he entertains the possibility of you having a non-human distant cousin

If he isn’t already so nerdy, it feels like he’s growing a second brain trying to theorize what your relation to Grim is…

Ortho Shroud

Also already knows who he is. This truly is a Shroud brothers ambush… of betrayal at that

Theatrics aside, you try to pry him for further information and maybe explain how you and Grim may be related

“Sorry (Y/N), I’d love to help but Grim has been avoiding both of us for a while now. Whether that’s intentional or not, I’m not sure, but I sure wish I was with you when you ran into him. I’m sure I could’ve gotten some valuable information from him!”

You have your doubts about that.

While you keep things to yourself, Ortho provides you with Grim’s surface level information - which is basically nothing

So you two vow to get closer to Grim; even with the ulterior motive, it doesn’t hurt to have more friends Idia would beg to differ

Grim-like traits aside, it’ll be eye-opening to him to see if you two are similar in any regard at all - whether it be from your healing presence to your dazzling smile.

The next morning, you walk to your first class of the day: History of Magic. A fairly interesting class regardless of your stance on the subject. Professor Trein goes on and on about something, you write things down in your notebook. Your eyes are on Lucius for half of the class too. Your mind is still stuck on the events of yesterday. You feel like you’d be reminded of Grim any time you lay your eyes on anything feline - including yourself.

At last, class is dismissed. As much as you enjoy the class and genuinely like Professor Trein, you can’t help but feel that classes are dragged out way too much in this college. You pack up your things and you leave around the same time the professor does. So when Grim comes running and tackles you to the hallway floor, he’s there to witness it all.

“Hey twin! Wanna have lunch with us later? You’ll be seating with us cool kids!”

As you try to regain your composure over being literally knocked over and the fact that Grim has already warmed up to you, Professor Trein attempts to comprehend the scene unfolding before him.

Mozus Trein

Yes, of course he needs to scold Grim over misbehaving for the umpteenth time that week, but he’s also in awe of how… similar you and Grim look.

If he’s seen either of you before, whether in vicinity of each other or not, he’s never noticed blame it on the old grandpa eyes

People (and creatures now too, accounting for Grim’s being here) of your traits and abilities are far and few between

As much as he’d like to inquire you two on your ancestries (and their possible connection), he does respect your privacy

He always liked having you in his class but now, he finds himself looking out for you more often, a way to put his energy from his curiosity about you into something else

He’d ask you about your day and jokingly ask how your relationship with your long-lost brother is doing as if he’s not acting like a dad himself

Needless to say, he’s definitely your favorite teacher now.

You accept Grim’s offer for whatever reason and have lunch with the “cool kids”. You feel a little out of place at first, hanging out with people who aren’t the Shrouds, but then you start having lunch with them every other day. Then you start visiting Ramshackle Dorm where Grim is staying and spend time with the others there. At some point, you brought the Shrouds along and they would bring their games.

Suddenly, you know a lot of people. You think to yourself how crazy friendships start. You go from not knowing their name to knowing what they named their pet rock when they were a child. And in Grim’s case, you went from pointing at each other confusingly to pointing at each other for stealing each other’s food.

For the record, he definitely stole your pudding first.

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blimgus · 1 year ago

Text

WHB SLEEPOVER SERIES -GEHENNA VER.

Hey guysss blimgus here

guys guys listen i've got an idea.

_______________________________________

Imagine spending your sweet time in Gehenna. Peaceful slow time in the capital passes with the occasional random explosions in the background. However, when the night comes it's time to head back to Satan's castle for a rest. But due to some devils fighting over your attention with each other, you decide that organizing a big sleepover would solve the problem!

By bribing Ppyong with some chocolate you get the necesarry stuff you needed from Minhyeok's room. You grab the definitly too big bag from the tiny Red Lump Devil and hand over his reward.You check the contents of it,while Ppyong stuffs a bunch of ferreros in his mouth.

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

Satan

○ pretty chill about organising a sleepover, tells you that's a good way to boost morale

○ tbh i imagine he'll pick a classic white tank top and some heart boxer briefs xD

○ imagine having a casual romantic talk with him while cooking marshmallows over a burning toaster

○ he's totally up to play some games and have fun with you ( and his subordinates)

○ causes a massive pillow fight to unleash, anihilates most of the others(don't worry he'll go easy on you, but you will not escape your fate *yeets a pillow*)

○ however true chaos starts when you introduce him to Mario Kart

○ oh God I have the absolutely cursed idea. Like imagine playing Mario Kart with him as a foreplay later (gfhsjsbsb)

○when the time to sleep comes he'll flop down on the huge bed like some kind of a log

○ yeah you wake up to grab some water or go piss and have a Satan jumpscare bc either he sleeps with his eyes open (which totally glow in the dark believe me) or he just pretends to be asleep and we will never know the truth

Sitri

○ahhh Sitri my baby

○ like he's totally rocking the leopard print luxury pyjamas bc like that's so Sitri-coded

○he'll spend most of the with his tea on the sofa.The only person allowed to sit next to him is you, just so he can listen to your heartbeat a bit better ~♡

○ paint his nails, paint his nails

○ i totally see Sitri sitting with you in the kitchen, blind testing some awful convenience store tea and listening to him shit talking the diffrent brands while offering you to try some REAL tea (we all know how it may end)

○ when the places for everyone to sleep were decided, he got kinda fussy bc he was somehow expelled from the bed

○ baby got angy, but at least he gets to calmly listen to your heartbeat when you sleep...

Paimon

○ PAIMON PAIMON YAS QUEEN

○ No.1 sleepover fan

○ Literally teleported to you when he heard you say the word ,,sleepover "

○ Literally girls night , painting nails, eating snacks, doing each others hairrrr, playing dress-up

○ totally into watching Barbie movies, especially the Old ones, or some shitty romcoms

○ came up with the idea of organising a Just Dance tournament to decide who gets to sleep next to you,

○ offers you to help you clean off your make up before sleeping to get alone with you for a while

○ good night smooches from Paimon♡

Leraye

○ Golden retriever energyyyy

○ he would probably wear a kigurumi, or some cute long sleeved pyjamas with a teddy bear pattern

○ gets destroyed at Mario Kart oof

○ tbh I headcanon that the whole pillow fight started bc he accidentaly sniped Satan with a pillow from across the room.

○*insert boss battle music*

○ *insert the sounds of gunshots and screams*

○ all Hell breaking loose

○ also he gets really invested in the Barbie movie's story???

○at the end of the day, he goes to sleep with one of satan's decapitated plushie~

Belial

○Happily agrees to joining the party!...*insert jjyu cursing*

○ he comes wearing matching dark read top and bottom, ngl the colour matches his hair highlights nicely

○ also Jjyu is here with a tiny night cap

○Belial seems like that one person who comes to the party to share some banger music they found on Spootify

○ ya know some small talk with himm while the musics plays in the background

○ some time later puts Jjyu in time out bc he got a little out of control

○ in order to keep chatting with him without straining his voice, you decide to whisper to each others ears

○ so romantic

Zagan

○ Most of the time he just keep to himself. Don't worry he's enjoying himself, just not too good with talking.

○honestly i think he'll wear a black tank top and some totally normal pants. Idk he just seems like the neutral clothing type of guy to me.

○Tries to learn some Mario Kart. I mean he still ends on a higher place in the races than Leraye due to everyone """accidentaly""" targeting him.

○ Have you wondered who won the Just Dance tournament?

○Yeah, it was Zagan.

○ He absolutely destroyed Paimon and Sitri, much to their dismay.

○ Now he gets to sleep next to you!

○ Don't worry we keeping this situation "non-horni" so no naughty stuff or smth

○sooo he just lays there with you on his right side and on the left... there's a drooling and snoring Leraye.

Astaroth

○ honestly nobody expected him to actually show up

○but heyyy he and his snake are here!!

○ totally wears the darkest coloured robe and some classy black fluff slippers

○ kitchen talk with you, him and Sitri so real

○ low pitched chuckle coming from him when he sees you goofing around with others

○he loves hearing your laugh

○ agrees to tell you a bedtime story as long as you'll promise him to repay the favour later~

○ he spends the night on the armchair, his snake chilling on his shoulders, while he reads a book he brought to the party

___________________________

Paying my respects to people writing fanfics, bc it takes a lot of dedication to push out that many words and not go bonkers...

First time writing anything like that on this site, English grammar defeated me here.

Hope you like it!

-blimgus out

#what in hell is bad #whb #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb satan #whb sitri #whb belial #whb headcanons #whb paimon #whb astaroth #whb leraye #whb zagan #whb x reader

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neohoestechnology · 9 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your moodboards and headcanons! Could you do one for Draco? 🥰🫶🏻

Thank you so much!!💗💗

I'm SO sorry it took so long (mainly because I saw the request yesterday 🫠 my university is KILLING me sorry😭). This is LONG so bare with me + my English is rusty af so I apologize for any grammar mistake

☆ Draco Malfoy Headcanons & Moodboard ☆

Okay, so, a quick disclaimer here before we get started -----> now, I really believe that Draco is one the most tricky character to "get right" (speaking of his behavior and thoughts), so I just wanted to say that this is my personal interpretation and could be 100% different from yours so please be kind🥹

Oh boy, it took A LOT for you two to finally get together; a lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of sacrifice and arguments between both of you and your friends. Just a lot.

I think we can all agree that our beloved boy couldn't care less about girls before during his first years at Hogwarts. Some things changed as time passed by, a lot, actually. He changed in the first place, becoming old enough to finally understand his family affairs and secrets. He HAD to change. He wanted to gain strength to be able to carry this new burden on his shoulders and to show his worth, but it all developed into a self-destruction, never-ending cycle that made him feel left out and alone. You, on the other hand, always seemed to have all figured out, and always looked so calm and caring. Truth is that you also felt like you were missing something, like you didn't really fit in for some reason.

It's not really clear how or why you two got together, but somehow, it happened.

Your caring nature always irritated him. How naive, he thought, but that time you found him crying on the bathroom floor, all alone and desperate, he thanked God that you came.

From this episode, bit by bit, your relationship started to form.

You two are VERY good at keeping it private, very discreet.

At the end of the day, you just have one another to stay with, and you are more than okay with that. People started to get suspicious, though; your friends started to notice your frequent excuses and distance, wondering WHAT ON EARTH they did to make you feel this way. Little did they know about your secret midnight meetings with a boy whose reputation speaks for himself.

Even though you two never show up together as a couple, you actually never feel lonely during the day. It's all about those secretly exchanged gazes, the typical side eye thing from across the room when someone is talking bs, him softly brushing his hand against yours when you are leaving a class and no one can see.

BUT, when you two are ACTUALLY ALONE... Soft touches, hushed words and pleading eyes.

You like to share silence together, there's nothing left to share after your first bathroom rendezvous.

I feel like he smells like wood, like deep forest or something like that, but his smell is kinda comforting (my scent-describing skills are nonexistent sorry😭)

I mean, you can feel his presence even without seeing him.

He has this thing about his eyes, like the way he looks at you. Everyone who played close attention to his gaze could tell it was love and admiration.

LOVES when you run your hands through his hair (sometimes you could swear to hear him purring).

Likes to make flowers appear between the pages of your potion book while taking classes, only to give you a subtle smile and turn his head to read his instructions immediately after.

Your first time together was during the Christmas break, when there were just the two of you in the entire Slytherin dorm. It was the first time he said "I love you" (it's fucking cheesy but I love it eheh). Everything was so slow and sensual. Lips, hands and kisses everywhere. Slow thrusts with your hands intertwined and his head buried in your neck.

His hands are always so cold that he has to keep them in your sleeves (he loves it though)

Likes watching you sleep (not in a creepy way don't worry lol). He'd brush your hair out of your face and caress your face softly.

Would fidget a lot while talking to you, mostly to distract himself from the fact that he gets weak in the knees every time he looks in your eyes, even after all this time. He'd 100% play with your hands or hair just because.

You'd literally yank his hand from his mouth every time he bit his nails or picked at his skin.

He's the type of person who would do hot things without even realizing. He would undo a few buttons of your shirt just to button them up right away just because he thought they looked weirdly asymmetrical, causing you to blush and stutter. And this mf would just tell you to go on and finish what you were saying (okay, maybe he does this on purpose).

You know that the way he behaves around others is just a facade. He is so broken and hopeless that he HAS to act that way around them, but when he's with you, his safe place, he feels so grateful that he gets to get loose from his worries and reveal the real person he is that it scares him how attracted he is to you, how primal his need for you is.

When your friends found out that you were dating Mr Bully Malfoy, they just couldn't wrap their heads around the reason that spurred you to do so. Let's just say that you are not friends anymore. You tried to explain yourself countless times, but they didn't seem to understand nor were willing to do so, and you thought you were better off without them anyway.

He got the same treatment from his friends ngl. It was better this way, honestly. In the end, you just needed one another to feel complete and fulfilled.

He thought about running away with you almost once a day during his 6th year. He knew what, better say who, was coming. He was sure that the death eaters wouldn't spare anyone, maybe himself included. When he first told you, he was sure you would laugh it off and call him paranoid, but instead, you listened to him carefully and decided to plan your escape with him without even flinching.

It was a gloomy night in the middle of the winter. Rushed footsteps were echoing in a corridor, then in the hall, down the stairs. Restless eyes were wandering around the path, occasionally looking back to check no one was tagging after them. A subtle creaking of a rusty gate opening was heard, and then nothing else.

OKAY SO I got WAY MORE carried away than I should and I know this is longer and more serious and dark than what I usually do but I tried my best. Actually, I'm not 100% satisfied with how it turned out and maybe the person who asked it expected something different and more light-hearted, and I apologize for it. Again, writing this character is difficult af.

I do not possess any of these photos, all credits go to the owners.

Love you, B. 🌱🤍

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter moodboard #hermione granger #moodboard #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy moodboard #draco malfoy headcanon #ron weasley #harry potter #harry potter marauders #harry potter and the halfblood prince #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanons #hogwarts

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 2 years ago

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Prompt: If someone had told you an hour ago that Vil and Rook would attempt breaking into Ramshackle, drunk out of their minds, you would have laughed and waved off their words. Well, that was what you would have thought an hour ago.

Pairing: Rook x Gn!Yuu/Prefect/Reader x Vil

Genre: Fluff

TW: Underage drinking, mentions of being very drunk, Rook and Vil are most definitely ooc (cause they're drunk)

A.N: For the record, I am not trying to encourage underage drinking. That is not my intention. I just had a funny story told to me by my aunt that inspired this. Again, not trying to encourage underage drinking or heavy drinking (drink responsibly and only after you come of age please).

If someone had told you an hour ago that Vil and Rook would attempt breaking into Ramshackle, drunk out of their minds, you would have laughed and waved off their words.

After all, Rook would never willingly compromise himself by drinking to the point where he couldn't walk without stumbling. He was a hunter; his sharp senses were his pride, and alcohol muddles the senses, rendering them dull. The idea of such loss of control over his actions may be a bit tempting, but you knew he wouldn't be as irresponsible as to have alcohol on a school night.

The same could be said for Vil. He was comfortable with showing you and Rook more of his natural and less put-together side, but he would not exactly let himself be drunk to the point where he slurred his words, each syllable melting into the next as he attempted to communicate with you. Not just to keep his dignified and elegant image, but also because of how horrible the hangover on the next day would be for him (he was a lightweight who learned it the hard way after getting into his father's special alcohol stash one day).

Well, that was what you would have thought an hour ago.

You sighed as you looked at the two boys who had all but broken the door to Ramshackle down. The pounding on the door (courtesy of Rook, who was also saying something that sounded like an essay in French as he stood outside your dorm) had woken you up from where you had fallen asleep completing assignments. You could still remember Grim's confused "Mrah?!" as he walked over and opened the front door for the two, bolting upstairs when the stink of alcohol became too much for his poor sensitive nose to bear.

Somehow, you had managed to bring the two inside, to the guest room, where they were both sprawled in a messy heap of limbs on a couch. It would have been a little cute, had they not been absolutely hammered beyond belief.

"Mon cher Trickster~" Rook hummed, eyes sly and captivating even as they drooped from the influence of alcohol. "Come nearer, and allow me... allow me the privilege of... basking in your glory..."

His voice was smooth and silky, and if it weren't for the way you saw him struggle like a newborn fawn just moments ago, you would have believed him to still be somewhat sober.

Vil, meanwhile, was just staring up at you with an awe-struck look on his face, eyes wide and shiny. Cheeks warm and a soft red from whatever he drank, he seemed content to just watch you as you stood in front of them wondering what to do. You looked over their appearance. Both the Pomefiore boys looked as beautiful as ever, even with their very obviously inebriated actions and reactions.

"What did you two drink? And how much?" You asked Rook, crouching slightly to reach his eye level. Rook scrunched his nose, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to remember; meanwhile your eyes focused on the freckles that had begun making their appearance after hours of being hidden beneath makeup.

"Apple... juice," Rook said, head tilting towards you as he answered your question. "Just... apple juice," Vil agreed, words mixing in his mouth even as he answered you with all the seriousness of a five year old trying to tell his mother that he had not had any cookies before dinner.

"You two don't seem like you had just apple juice though," you hummed, holding back a smile as Vil pouted at your words. Before he could voice any protests, you lightly patted his head, running your fingers through the silky blonde strands. Vil melted under your tender touch, eyes closing in bliss as he rested his head on Rook's chest.

"Stay," you ordered him, much in the way Crewel would with his students, but with a marked gentleness to your tone. Vil nodded, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you tried to make them more comfortable on the couch. Coaxing Rook to get up just a little for you to slip a pillow under his head, getting one of the blankets Vil had gotten especially for you, he watched you do every little thing to make their impromptu sleepover more comfortable for them.

Rook had fallen asleep by the time you finished making arrangements for the two of them to sleep somewhat comfortably. While you would have preferred to get them to your room and on an actual bed, they did not seem to be in any condition to climb the rickety stairs Ramshackle was famous for.

Ruffling Rook and Vil's hair one last time, you turned to move... only to be held back by a hand closing around your wrist. Your eyes trailed down your arm, an amused expression on your face as you saw Vil holding onto you.

"Yes, Vil?"

"Stay," Vil mirrored your words from before, the softly uttered command lacking the impact it otherwise would have had on you. Dewy eyes looked up at you, and a gentle "Please.." slipped through his lips, tugging at your heart strings the way he was tugging at your wrist.

You chuckled and acquiesced, sitting down in front of the couch with your wrist still in his grasp. Moving Rook's hand out of the way, you laid your head on the edge of the couch, looking into amethyst eyes. Eyes that softened with sleep and contentment as he watched you settle down near the two of them.

He stubbornly tried to remain awake, even as his eyelids kept drooping in protest. You, who had already had quite a restful nap (thanks to Professor Trein's homework) kept watching him in thinly veiled amusement and adoration for a few minutes, before speaking to him in a gentle tone. "You should go to sleep Vil. It's late."

A petulant pout was directed at you, and you resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks. "Come on, you need to sleep. It's important for a healthy and glowing skin, y'know," you hummed, using his own words (that he used nearly everyday for you) for him. His eyelids drooped even lower at the warmth in your voice, yet he stubbornly kept looking at you.

"I'm not going anywhere, Vil. I promise."

Finally, the male seemed satisfied with what you said. At least, that's what you figured from the way his eyes fully closed and remained closed, his breathing gradually slowing down as he fell into a deep sleep.

Your hand was still held in his. While his grip had loosened in his sleep... you did promise to stay.

Well, there were more uncomfortable places and positions you could have slept in.

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jeonghansbunny · 2 years ago

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Mini Dress | Scoups

Rating: 18+ | Read at your own discretion

Content warnings: dom/sub, manhandling, tearing up, unprotected sex, creampie. Please keep in mind that I wrote this with the idea that everything is consensual!

Seungcheol

He doesn't want anyone else to see you in it

Who sees you in a cute mini dress

And suddenly his gaze becomes dark

He grabs you by the hand not wanting you to leave the house

Before you could ask what the hell is wrong with him you notice something

His pants seem tight

He notices you staring

Your innocent and flustered expression only turning him on more

Without saying a word, he brings your hand to the swollen area of his pants

And he makes you rub it

Your gaze shifts to his face and you can't utter a word

You want to tell him to let go off your hand

But he looks at you with such an intense gaze you can't say anything

The atmosphere feels so heavy

You've never seen such an expression on him, somehow he looks different

More masculine and dominant

He pulls you to the couch and

Before you know it he has you on his lap, grinding on his clothed cock

Observing the wet trace, you leave behind despite having your underwear on

He decides to take those barriers off

And he assures you he only wants to feel your bare pussy grinding on his bare cock

But the grinding becomes more and more intense

And before you know it his tip touches your entrance

You squeak in surprise and horror

"no you can't" you say while trying to push him by his shoulders

He grabs your wrists and gives you those doe eyes

In a pout he tells you that you have nothing to worry about

It's just his tip

He won't put his cock inside

He'll just rub the tip to your entrance

You're so overwhelmed by the sensation and also because this is your first time doing something like this

It seems pretty harmless and it doesn't hurt so you agree

He's still gripping at your wrists and looking up at you

Excited by the sight of having you grind on him

Grinding on his tip

You in that cute and short dress

Your eyes wide in surprise

Face flushed

This sight of you makes him snap

He decides this isn't enough

So he slowly starts pushing

Before you can comprehend what's happening his tip is inside

"what are you doing" you say as if almost wanting to cry

He tries to calm you down by shushing you as if he would a baby

He let's go of your wrist and pulls you into his chest

"come here" he says

his hands reaching behind you and tugging at your folds

Separating them with his fingers

opening your entrance up and shoving his entire cock inside of you

You gasp in shock

He rests a hand on your neck as if to reassure you

"shhh it's okay baby" he whispers in your ear

Your face resting on his shoulder

You start crying from the sensation

And he starts thrusting his hips up

Reaching a deep part of you that you never knew existed

Is it because of the pain or pleasure

You don't know anymore

You make those desperate sounds and his grip on you only tightens

You try to push him by the shoulders

But at some point without you realizing

Instead of pushing you're holding on to his neck

He has a smirk on his face

And your hips start to move as well

Seeing you so desperate

He can't believe it was even possible

To see the innocent you be so bold

One minute you were a sweet innocent virgin

Now you're whining and grinding your hips on him as if you've done this before

But of course you don't notice him smiling

You're so focused on reaching your orgasm

And the pressure at the bottom of your stomach intensifies

You start squeezing him harder

Getting louder

"cum on my cock baby" he says in your ear and kisses the side of your head

Holding you even closer, if that's even possible

As if his command were absolute

You cum

The sensation of you squeezing his dick while you whine

Has him bucking his hips and shooting his load inside of you

The warm sensation making you spasm

"Such an adorable reaction" he thinks

Even though he came he still won't take his cock out

He wants to stay like that

While plugging his cum inside of you

And holding you close

While you're still breathing heavily

He leaves small kisses all over your neck

And pets your hair

As if he were to say "good job" with his body language

Too tired from the high

Of having fucked you for the first time

Excited for all the other times

He's going to make a mess out of you

And cum inside of you <3

#seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #kpop smut

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space-blue · 1 year ago

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Acolyte theory stuff...

In the trailer and in the youngling training scene, Sol says this:

Close your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you. We must not trust them.

And it REALLY jumped at me, due to my theory that Mae was not actually there with Osha on that gangway. They both think she fell to her death, but has been shown running through the forest on fire, and also the next day is neither injured nor even singed.

We also have Yord tell Osha that the Sith "gets in your head and stays there", which Osha replies with "My mother could do that".

We have this yet unseen shot of all of them with black eyes, so I think we're yet to see the witches "true" work.

There's also a shot of Kelnacca attacking Torbin, and Torbin getting on a speeder at night. There's no way of knowing though if Torbin is defending or attacking, or if Kelnacca is black-eyed in this shot or not.

We have a lot of hints that Qimir was actually there that night. He expects Sol to remember him. He thinks Sol has "hiding his face", which could mean lying to Osha.

The way he speaks about his inner darkness, I wonder if the witches' power reveals the real darkness hidden inside their heart or something?

Also!! While Torbin went on to isolate himself and feels awful enough about it all to commit suicide over it, Kelnacca has been studying the witches' symbols, crazy old man style :

It's the same design Mae has :

Clearly Kelnacca has been obsessed with it since then, so it has to be relevant somehow. It's possible that the Jedi fucked up by interrupting the ritual.

Finally... There's obviously a theory that Mae and Osha will actually switch. And I kind of agree. Rewatching episode 4 today with friends, I noted how Sol once again asked Osha to have faith in Mae. He does so in episode 2, and in 4 he says "but she remains your family". Implying she should make her peace and believe in her.

And MAE does that to Osha. Even after accusing her of being brainwashed, she's so overwhelmed with their reunion, she embraces her fully. She follows Sol's lesson more than Osha, who again displays very black and white thinking. She's extremely binary against Mae. And there she twists her arm and calls her a criminal, even though she could have soooo easily asked Mae to be understanding and to help her get Sol to the ship and at least hear him out.

Osha is constantly unable to forgive. I think she's going to get Qimir's twisted version of events, and Sol will give Mae his version, and each will fall into place.

Now that being said... Sol will have bad spaceship issues (next episode most likely, from the trailer shots of the ship tumbling through space ice and Sol piloting) and since he and Mae both heard the word "Sith", I don't actually like their chances of survival.

Osha will become acolyte, and Qimir and her will found the knights of Ren or whatever. The real mystery being WTF happened on Brendock.

#star wars #sw #sw meta #star wars meta #the acolyte #star wars the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #the acolyte speculation #qimir #darth arms as my friend called him #osha aniseya #master sol #mae aniseya #brendock #kelnacca #spoilers

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thebluestbluewords · 6 months ago

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banter for banter’s sake

I started thinking too hard about this post, and now here we are. This isn’t really about why Ben dresses like a cartoon character, but that’s where it was SUPPOSED to go.

Evie holds up a swatch of gauzy blue-green material. "I know it's horribly cliche to dress the Atlantica girls in ocean colors, but Aria specifically requested it. D'you think I could get away with giving her a caramel sea-foam sort of shawl?"

"E," Mal asks oh-so-neutrally, without looking up from her book. It's not that Through The Wardrobe: A History of Magical Portals is a riveting read, it's just that she'd rather stab her own eyes out with a rusty spork than look at another princess dress. "Do I look like I know jack-fucking-all about what colors a mermaid is supposed to wear?"

"You're the one taking Art History this semester. I've seen your homework, I know you're writing a paper on heraldic imagery for each of the historic royal houses," Evie says, tossing the fabric swatch at her. "You ought to know what colors they can get away with."

The square flutters down to the floor, where Dude the dog immediately trots over to sniff at it. The little monster isn't supposed to be in their room at all, but he keeps sneaking in somehow. Mal suspects foul play. Her shoes have been smelling suspiciously like salami as of late. "Chartreuse and navy."

"Like ocean water and piss." Evie agrees. "Perfect."

"My piss isn't chartreuse," Ben says thoughtfully. He's not supposed to be in their room either, but he's a much larger monster than the dog. Harder to kick out. Also, having him here makes Mal's stomach go all warm and tingly, like Ben lying on her floor is the new, goodness-approved equivalent to half a shot of bathtub whiskey. It's easier to sleep when she'd got him close too, and--

Yeah, she's not exploring that feeling any further.

"Skill issue," Evie says cheerfully. "You need to drink less water. If you're overly hydrated your piss will be too clear, and we can't pass it off as a sports drink when we replace everything in Chad's locker."

"You don't have to torment Chad, you know."

Evie tips her head to look at him straight on, even though she's sitting in her desk chair with perfect posture, and the king of Auradon is laying on the floor with his head propped up on one of Dude's toys. "But it's so fun?"

"I told Chad you're not messing with him," Ben says evenly, rolling over so that he can face Evie straight on, like that ever makes it easier to stare her down. Evie's not as scary as Mal's mother when it comes to staring contests, but she's got a special sort of mortal talent for them. Mal suspects it's the eyeliner. It's too perfect. She cuts through your focus with it, like the sharp ends are a knife. "Don't make me a liar."

"Don't tell lies."

"My father will hear about this," Ben lies, smoothly. "Probably from Mal's father, when he dies of a stress-induced heart attack and goes to hell."

"Hey!"

"Not that I really believe Hades is your father! It's just that you said he is, and I'm trying to be good and take you seriously."

"Don't," Evie advises. "She lies all the time. She'll lie to your face for fun."

"I am a wicked fairy," Mal tells her book. "By the magical laws of the universe, I technically can't lie."

"And we all know you've found ways around that."

"Misdirection isn't lying. It's strategic."

Ben tugs Evie's fabric sample from Dude's mouth. Or tries to, at least. The little monster is tenacious, which is one of their vocabulary words in English class this week. "Like when you misinterpreted my question about how many chocolate bars you had, and threw up all over the carriage."

"That," Mal says haughtily, drawing herself up to her full seated height, which isn't very tall, "Was a strategic misinterpretation of the truth, yes. But it technically wasn't a lie."

"He can eat that fabric, by the way," Evie breaks in. "I don't think it's the right weight for this dress anyway. If Aria really wants her ocean green, she's going to get something structural to contrast the cliche of it all. It's like, I know I have a signature color, but you don't actually need to wear your kingdom colors all the time."

"It's not good for him to eat any fabric. And I do have to wear my kingdom colors all the time."

Mal kicks a foot out at her boyfriend, pointing her toes towards his lounge pants, which are black. "No."

"These aren't mine."

"Stolen goods?"

Ben's cheeks flush beautifully, delicately pink. Like a sunburn. "Borrowed, actually. I have permission."

"They're too short for you," Evie observes, leaning forwards in her chair to survey this new weak point. "Black could be anyone, but I recognize my own work when I see it. Why are you stealing Jay's pants?"

"Borrowing." Ben squeaks out. His face is progressing from sunburn-pink to blood red rather rapidly.

"Mm. Sure. Why are you borrowing them?"

"Normal reasons."

Mal resolves to ask Jay about the “normal things” he’s been doing with Ben’s pants as soon as possible.

“Well, the next time you two do normal things together,” Evie says, with a face so blank and sweet that it could belong to a doll, except for how the very corner of her mouth is twitching, “tell me beforehand and I’ll make you a pair of your very own.” “I, uh—“

The doll mask breaks into a wicked grin. “You what, baby?”

Ben groans, rolls face down, smashes his entire head into the dog’s belly, and somehow flushes so bright that the color starts traveling down his neck. “I like wearing other colors sometimes, that’s all. I know I’m breaking dress code, and I don’t want to encourage you to make me more stuff that I can’t wear, but I do like it.”

“Dress code?”

“Family dress code, yeah.” Dude’s underbelly says. “I—blegh.” Ben emerges from underneath the dog. “Why does he taste like licking a trash can? I thought Carlos was washing him every week.”

“Yeah, he started doing that cause he rolls in garbage more than once a week.”

Ben recoils. “He sleeps on my head!”

“Ooh, see, I know for a fact that he doesn’t,” Evie says sweetly. “Because he sleeps in the boys’ room whenever he’s not in his kennel, which I know because I’m the one who walks him down to the kennel when we kick him out of our room. So unless you’re sleeping in the boys’ room….?”

“I’d never break curfew.” Ben lies. He does it smoothly, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth while he’s saying it.

Mal points. “Evie—“

“Breaking curfew means being in the halls, dorm rooms of students of another gender, and common spaces after hours, yes.” Evie, her beautiful human dictionary, confirms. “It doesn’t technically say that you can’t be in the dorm room of another student, just that boys and girls can’t mix. Sleeping with us would mean breaking curfew, but the boys aren’t technically addressed in the rules. An oversight that I’m sure a good student council member or two must have noticed, am I right?”

“I get lonely,” Ben admits. “Doug noticed it first.”

Doug, her mortal enemy, working in Ben’s favor? Mal doesn’t want to believe it, but the guy does have some weird sort of friendship with Ben. It’s like they genuinely enjoy each other’s company, or something. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

Ben flops his sweet golden head down onto the floor again. "Not really. I got lonely as a kid, and Doug and Chad were in a double together, and we just never corrected the loophole after I stopped sleeping over. I haven't used it much since then."

"Since you stopped sleeping over with my mortal enemy," Mal says, teasing. "I see how it is."

Evie throws a pin at her. "Doug's a nice guy, M! Just because you think he's your mortal enemy doesn't mean we all feel that way."

"He stares at your boobs when he thinks you're not looking."

"So do you."

"I'm allowed."

Evie tosses her hair back over her shoulders in a gesture that, in the wrong hands, could level nations. "So's Doug. I think he's cute. Besides, you're distracting me from my goal here, which is for Benny-boo to tell us why he's got a dress code and we don't."

Ben groans. "I don't, really. It's just. Royal stuff."

"Which is why you wear the same boring blue suit every day," Evie prompts. "Because of your secret dress code. You can tell me what it is, I'll work around it."

"I have a dozen slightly different blue suits, actually," Ben says, ignoring the question. "And I'll wear them until I die, just like my dad."

Mal shuts her book. She's starting a strict no-parent talk policy, and her boyfriend's in immediate violation and must be distracted or killed before he can bring the mood down further. "Unless you die on the toilet."

"Why would I do that?" Ben asks. He looks genuinely confused. It's so sweet, Mal could just vomit.

Evie bounces down from the desk to join him on the floor. "Chronic constipation can lead to straining so hard you burst a blood vessel, which could travel to your brain, and kill you?"

"I don't have that?"

She pats his golden head. "If you keep wearing terrible suits you will."

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #ben florian

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two-white-butterflies · 2 years ago

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parallel lines | d. targaryen | part three

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

"The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that." - Salma Deera.

(HARRENHALL'S CASTLE. 130AC.)

When Alys Rivers was born, there wasn't a word that could properly describe her power. She could coax rain out of clouds, and foresee a million different outcomes - you were the opposite. Yes, you were different than the men of these lands but your powers were scarce it couldn't even promise your own safety.

Alys Rivers was a real witch, more powerful than any mage that has walked this earth. She had the power to destroy everything, but she never lifted a finger against you. You figured that you'd be safe as long as she loved you - she was your sister after all.

The woman that you trail behind.

"I was worried about you - I thought that you'd follow after your husband. I couldn't let you die." she whispered, staring deep into the fire - taking leisurely sips of her wine. "I wanted to die, Alys." you glared at her - memories of last night flooding through your mind.

"You don't really believe that," she says with absolute certainty. What use was living without the man that you loved? "- rain came and we prepared barrels to catch water. Rain is gone and you move on." she turned her head towards you, hidden wisdom in her tone.

"What do you think your husband would've done? If you died last night, and he lived." she mused, already having an answer in mind. "Silence," you gritted your teeth - but it only provoked her.

"He would've married another maiden - perhaps Rhaenyra Targaryen? I've heard stories about his love for her." she antagonized, and you retreated into your bed. "You don't know him, Alys." you breathed, praying that death would come sooner than men.

"I know men like him. My beautiful sister - seduced by that-"

"If you have nothing good to say, you may leave." you placed the blanket over your body. Ignoring her discontent.

yourname_: yeah he's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me 😎

liked by RhaeTargaryen and 283 others

>comments

aemond_hxghtower: 😨 my reaction to that information 😨

Aegspert: Short 🤣 - yourname_: Says the 5'10 asshole ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? - - Aegspert: @yourname_ it's 5'11*

(ST. JOSEPH THE WORKER'S SCHOOL IN DRAGONSTONE. JANUARY 6, 2023)

"Aemond please please please!" Joffrey pleaded while hanging onto his uncle's hoodie. "Please attend my birthday!" he requested showing the older man his 'puppy eyes'.

"He's not going to stop unless he gets what he wants." Harwin crosses his arms, smiling at the boy who was jumping up and down. Aemond wanted to roll his eyes, Joffrey keeps doing this because he knows that he'll get what he wants, once he does. "Your brother only turns five once," you agreed with his family.

His glare softens - he hated you in his past life, was only interested in you in this life because he enjoyed to torment you. But somehow, along the lines of being your boyfriend - and living with each other, he's found himself falling. He's grown to care for you.

"I don't know how we'll have fun, there'll be other kids there -"

"And there will also be adults." you responded and everyone stared at him for a reply. With a shaky breath, he relents.

"Of course we'll come. We have a lot of time." he smiled down at his nephew, mayhaps it was finally time to put his grievances aside.

Daemon's eyes narrowed hearing his phone ping. He never figured out how to put the thing on silent mode. "Take a left over there, much faster." he commented while pointing the right direction to the Uber Driver. "Apologies, it's my first time in this neighborhood." the driver chuckled and he hums. "There's always a first time for everything," he mumbled - staring at his phone.

yourname_ has requested to follow you.

He closes his eyes - should he accept it? Would you be turned off by the types of things he posted in Instagram? There were a couple selfies and charity foundation posts - the only people who followed him were his closest friends, family and students.

He presses the 'confirm' button.

yourname_ 10:28am i hope that you don't mind the follow request I couldn't find your facebook, I don't have an Iphone for imessage 😰

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:29am I don't have a facebook. Rhaenyra's kids set up this account ,,, something about me being a luddite 🤣

yourname_ 10:29am ohh i totally get those kids life is lonely without socmed i wanted to thank you for paying for dinner last night rhaenyra returned my share

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:30am It's nothing, I typically pay for the team dinners. It's not part of the bonus or anything Just my way of saying thanks 👍🏻

yourname_ 10:30am well...thank you anyways !

The driver stops his car in front of Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion. "We're here," he announces and Daemon silently gives his thanks, exiting the car before another round of conversation was started.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion slowly turned into a forest - there were beautiful balloons scattered around the doors, it looked exactly out of a fairytale. "Rhaenyra's husband, Harwin, owns this restaurant chain in the USA. I had no faith in him - but gods did he pull it off." Aemond mumbled, leading you towards the kitchen.

As expected with rich people - their kitchen wasn't exactly the main kitchen. It was a kitchen for decoration purposes, everything looked beautiful in this house. "When you told me that you had a trust fund, I didn't expect that you'd be this -" you stuttered, eyes gazing around the wonderful interior. "Oh no, this is all Harwin." Aemond lied.

He couldn't have you thinking that he could've provided you a better life. There were things that couldn't be bought by money - his happiness was one of those things. "Rhaenyra's husband is cool, he's the kind of person I want to be when I grow up." you whispered and he replied with a small chuckle.

Some things never change.

"Maybe you'll finally start to read that cookbook that my mum bought you?" he teased, hand trailing towards the small of your back. "Or you can cook, and I can keep eating." you responded, he pulls your body closer. "Whatever you say, boss." he agreed.

A man clears his throat from behind the both of you.

"No sex on the countertops, I can't believe that we're having this talk again." Criston Cole rolls his eyes playfully, Aemond smiles. "Criston, it's been a while." he welcomed his father-figure with a warm embrace. Rhaenyra's house used to belong to their father, when Viserys died and Alicent married Criston - they briefly lived in this house. "Too much of a while," the man pats his back.

"Is this her?" he pointed in your direction. "In the flesh," you responded - hugging him tightly.

You've never met the man in person - but via video-call and Aemond's stories, he was a vital figure in his childhood. "You are taller in person." he complimented and you giggled. That was the first time someone called you taller. "You know, the last time I saw Aemond - he was boning his ex-girlfriend on these countertops." Criston chuckled with cadence and Aemond rolled his eyes.

"I do not want to talk about that witch again, what is dead may never die again." Aemond shook his head, his hands finding its place back on your waist. "If you say so," Criston poured himself a glass of seltzer.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought that you were teaching that dojo in Manila?" you tilted your head and the man nods. "It's not everyday that Joffrey celebrates his birthday, plus, I thought I'd come to visit -" he winked at Aemond. "It's nice to haunt your mother once in a while." he joked.

"I still can't understand why you agreed on a divorce. You loved her - she adored you. You know how conditional mum's love is." Aemond turned serious for a second. His grip on your waist tightened. "You know what. You should catch up with Helaena, I have to talk to Criston." your boyfriend whispered and you nod.

There were some aspects of his life that didn't require an explaination.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S FOYER)

You saw him again.

Daemon Targaryen - his name brought shivers down your spine. You stalked him a few hours ago - and to your surprise he was on that same train-ride in Italy. It is certainly a small world.

"Oh hey," he greeted with a smile. He held a large gift with both of his hands. "Where do you put this?" he inquired, searching the foyer for a table. "I-I don't know, I didn't bring a gift." you breathed, suddenly conscious of your simple mistake. "Oh no, it's okay - I'm the uncle that brings big gifts. It's my family title," he chuckled, verbally thanking the maid that came to retrieve his gift.

He had a certain cadence to him. He required no introduction.

"I normally bring gifts to birthday parties but we were here on short notice," you smiled - leading him towards the living room.

Why did he make you feel electrified?

You stared deep into his eyes, unaware of the jazz music that began to play in the background.

'All roads lead to you, even the ones I took to forget you' - Mahmoud Darwish

"I don't recommend bringing these kids gifts. I detest spoiled brats - these kids are far from it but they have everything. Bring them to a park or buy them ice cream, they'll like it more." he advised.

Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"In that case, what did you buy them?" you inquired, and he smiled. "30 kilos of kinetic sand ... they requested it." his voice brought shivers down your spine. There was something alluring about his voice, he spoke like a great commander - he knows what to say. He tells you what you should do.

Who was this ethereal wisp of a man? Why did he bring so much emotions?

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S LIVING ROOM)

A small giggle escaped your mouth.

"What do you think? Should people think with their hearts or their brains?" Rhaenyra inquired, piquing everyone's interest with her simple question. "Everyone should always think with their hearts," Rhaenys begins and Corlys rolls his eyes. "The words of a tender hearted woman." he teased earning a glare from his wife.

He presses a kiss to her hand. "I'm kidding, my love." he whispered.

"I mean as women - we think with our hearts first, then our brains - after that we make a logical decision." Rhaenys adds and Laenor shakes his head. "That would mean that you think with your brain, mother." Laenor argued and Rhaenys shook her head.

"My brain only made a decision between what my heart believed." Rhaenys raised her finger. "I think we should think with our brains. The question itself is the answer. Should people think with their hearts or their brains? What do we use to think? Our brains - is it not?" Daemon questioned the question.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean, uncle."

"What about you, (Your Name). What do you think?" Corlys turned his head and all of their attention crashed towards you. "Shouldn't you give an opinion first, sir?" you smiled, pouring yourself a glass of soda. "Oh, I don't think I'll have much of an opinion. I agree with whatever my wife thinks about." Corlys chuckles.

"- then we think with our wives and not our hearts or brains." Daemon joked, earning a laugh.

"Well - our hypothalamus is the part of the brain that deals with love. When we say 'I love you with all of my heart' we don't actually mean that. What we mean is - I love you with all of the neurons in my hypothalamus. So - we do think with our brains. Daemon is right." you smiled and he patted your back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict has been handed." Daemon teased the others and the table erupts into laughter. "Nerd," Rhaenys rolls her eyes before you both erupt into laughter.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

"On the screen, she looked like Alys. I thought that you found her again, but I know that girl - the comeliest woman in Harrenhal. All the knights used to travel all the way there - just to see her." Criston chuckled, reminiscing the past that he had.

He was much more handsome then, he had muscles, his body was toned - but now he was suffering hypertension and all other human deceases that didn't exist in the past.

"She's still very beautiful."

"I thought that if she and her sister would be reincarnated into this world again - they'd be models or something. Whatever did happen to Alys? I thought you loved her?" Criston inquired, Aemond's heart breaks a little. He's spent 25 years trying to forget Alys Rivers. He tried to forget those cold hands that have ensnared him.

In night, he sees her face in his dreams - eyes with kohl and plum red lips. He misses the woman that he used to love. All that he's loved in Alys, he tries to find inside of you - though your faces were similar, your personalities were as different as sun and moon.

He's grown to love you, yes.

You can never find the same person twice, yes.

But if he were to meet Alys - and she was suddenly different in this life. He'd still love her. He'd still love the different ways he'd fall in love with her. His Green Witch.

"or did you not love her?" Criston's eyes narrowed.

"I did - I do." he corrected himself.

"- but she won't come back. She told me that she'll never have a new body again." he shrugged, walking away from the kitchen - pretending that he wasn't affected at all.

next chapter>>

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golbrocklovely · 1 month ago

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the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter twenty-six

A/N: sorry for this coming out a little bit later than expected. work kept me extra today. but anyway, i'm so excited for you guys to read these next coming chapters. we are down to the wire yall. there's only gonna be 30 chapters altogether, so only four more left after this one !! finally, after all these years lol lmk what you think and hope you enjoy <3

story description

taglist: @cvp1dsdead, @samandcolbypost (if you wanna be added, lmk)

trigger warning: cursing, angst, confession, mentions of - blood, bruises, stab wounds, cliff hanger ending

word count: 3574

~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, when I got the call to meet up here, I honestly didn't think you'd show." Max spoke, his eyes remaining on the menu in his hands.

I took a deep breath as I sauntered into the dining area, his table the only one in the room. My chair was already pulled out for me, just waiting for me to join him. Part of me regretted doing this, knowing I was going behind everyone's back... but I knew it was right.

Weirdly, even though I didn't like Max, he hadn't lied about himself to me yet. And I had many questions I needed answers to.

"I'm not here to have dinner with you, Max. I told you that on the phone. This is strictly business." I stated, pushing my chair in and sitting, crossing my legs.

He hummed, finally looking up at me. "I don't come to Giuseppe’s for business, so you will be sorely disappointed in what I have to say."

I narrowed my gaze, "And what if I tell you that someone is slandering your name and using you to get to me?"

Max blinked, hiding the curiosity in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's been, what? Two or three months since I last saw you? And yet somehow in that time I've been attacked twice. Both people claiming that you are the one that told them to attack me," I explained, leaning back in my chair. "And not just told them, but manipulated them into doing so."

"That's impossible." Max replied, a light annoyance in his voice.

"I agree. I know your power, you know I know your power. And yet somehow... these individuals have been manipulated by you into hurting me." I repeated.

His face dropped, "If you genuinely believe I would send someone to hurt you, you have me all wrong."

"And funny enough, I actually believe you. But I'm the only one that does." I sighed, chewing on my lip.

He paused, amusement spreading across his face. "Your boyfriend doesn't know you're here, does he?"

I fidgeted with my location bracelet, staring down at it. "No. But I do have a tracker on me so... I suggest not trying anything."

"I have no plans of the sort. Honestly," he held his hands up defensively. "So, what exactly have these attacks been like?"

"Well Mike, you know - the one who's tall and has a bunch of tattoos? Kind of mischievous eyes? He became very nice to me, basically flirted with me, and then drank from me. And only stopped because," I held my breath for a second, weighing the pros and cons of telling him the truth. "I'm not sure. I blacked out."

Max held up his hand, stopping me, "First off, I have no idea what any of your little friends look like, besides Colby. And Tara, since she’s an Elder. And secondly, in no way, shape, or form would I make a guy flirt with you."

"You met everyone when you tried kidnapping me the first time." I responded, my voice monotone.

"I wasn't trying to kidnap you. I was just trying to talk," he huffed. "Also, you honestly think I pay attention to anyone else when you're around?"

I exhaled, "You're going really heavy on the flirtiness, you know."

He politely grinned, "That's just my charm, Jade. But continue. What about the other attack?"

"It was my friend of a couple years. Ronnie. The blonde girl I work with. She's a vampire." I informed him, sipping on some water next to me.

"Yeah, that was pretty obvious. You didn't know?" Max raised an eyebrow.

"No, I didn't. But thanks for giving me the heads up," I smiled bitterly. "I only found out she was one when she tried using her powers on me."

"Did she hurt you?" He questioned, his voice sincere.

I shook my head. "Not really. I'm more hurt that she didn't tell me she was a vampire."

"Just like you didn't tell her you have powers too?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side.

I blinked rapidly, "How do you-"

"Do you not remember our date together? You figured out I have dream manipulation. And while I do believe you are intelligent, I don't think you are *that* smart to figure it out. Especially when I did an excellent job of making Colby believe you and I were together." His eyes snaked over me as he picked up his wine glass and took a swig. "So... what are you? A witch?"

"No. I'm a human. I just... have abilities." I muttered.

"What abilities?" He asked.

I crossed my arms, sitting upright. "I can tell what a vampire's power is. And whatever it is, it won't work on me."

He stayed quiet for a moment, then chuckled softly. "...That explains so much."

I eyed him, "What do you mean?"

"When I tried to make you dream about me, I could feel a resistance. Like a wall I kept hitting. That's why the dream was outlandish. I couldn't force you to dream of something realistic." Max admitted, "I usually try to make them feel as real as possible."

"So you can manipulate people into thinking what they dreamed was real." I replied, glaring at him.

He nodded, "That, and it's fun to see people freak out, thinking they did something when they didn't. Or experienced something that couldn't happen."

"Can you control them outside of the dream?" I pushed.

"No. But if I suggest something in their dream to be true, they'll believe it in real life. Like...." His voice trailed off.

I finished his thought, "Colby thinking I cheated on him with you."

"Exactly. So if those two people, Mike and Ronnie, were actually manipulated into hurting you, it wasn't because of me." He dropped his gaze, a subtle look of concern coming to him, "Unless..."

I leaned in, "Unless what?"

"Nothing. It's just not possible." He cleared his throat, smirking, "So, it must be someone else."

"I know who it is. But you're not gonna like my answer." I responded bitingly. "Rinaldi."

"My brother?" he scoffed. "You think my brother, who's been out of LA for months now, somehow used his powers on your friends to hurt you? Why would he do that?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. But he's the one connection in all of this from me to you. He's the strongest vampire I've seen, if not ever. He's the one that could easily make everyone do his bidding. Is it really that impossible to believe?"

"He wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn't drag me into this, if that's what you're implying." Max's voice was sharp, "And if he really wanted you, he would have had you already."

I tried my best to hide the shiver that ran down my spine. Even though I hated admitting it, I knew it was true. "Well, it's the only thing that makes sense. Who else could it be? Another Elder?"

"There's only a small handful that remain. Maybe you should ask Tara." He quipped, staring at me over his wine glass.

"Her abilities wouldn't be able to do this." I argued.

Max rolled his eyes. "So you say."

"Because I know," I emphasized. "Not only that, but the auras don't line up."

"Auras?" He queried.

"Every vampire has an aura when they use their powers," I revealed. "Rinaldi's is red, and both times I was attacked, there was a red aura around Mike and Ronnie, even when they used their powers on me."

He snickered, "You don't think out of the 100s of vampires that just exist in LA alone, there isn't another that could have a red aura?"

I shook my head, "Not this distinct of a red."

"What's mine?" He asked, looking at me innocently.

"Orange." I answered.

"Hmm... So if I use it on someone, you can tell?" He continued.

"Yep." I nodded.

"Interesting." Max leaned in, reaching his hand across the table to me. He lightly stroked the top of my hand, his fingers gliding across my skin softly.

I furrowed my brow at him, "You're not using your powers. You're just holding my hand."

"I never said I was going to." He smiled teasingly.

I yanked my hand away, rolling my eyes at him. "Look, I'm not here for dinner. I'm just here letting you know what I know."

"I appreciate it, but I fear I didn't help you." Max sang.

"You helped me. You solidified the one thing I know to be true: it's Rinaldi." I reiterated, standing up.

He snorted, shrugging, "I think you're wrong."

"And I think I'm the only one that can't be manipulated in this scenario. Which really fucks up his plans." I mumbled to myself, "Whatever they may be..."

"Well, if you find out who's doing this to you, send them my way. I'll make sure they have terrible dreams." His eyes caught mine, "And I'll kill them just for funsies."

I questioned, "And if it ends up being your brother?"

His voice lowered, darkening into a serious tone. "I'll keep my promise."

"I appreciate it. But just so you know, if I find out you're also a part of this..." I whispered, glaring at him, "I'm coming for you too."

He smirked, impressed. "If you can somehow kill my brother, I'll gladly let you kill me. I won't even put up a fight."

I turned away from him, walking out of the dining room. I called over my shoulder, "Don't go easy on me just for my benefit."

I still didn't like Max, but I hoped that he was telling the truth. I think he was, which was the most annoying part in all of this. It was Rinaldi, somewhere in the shadows, hiding in plain sight. He used his powers on Mike and Ronnie and blamed Max so he wouldn't get caught. And Max was either in denial or knew it was him.

Either way, all this time I thought I had two Elders gunning for me. But now I know it was just one. And he was coming for me.

But worst of all... I didn't know why.

~ \/ \/ ~

I stayed in the Trapp Haus apartment, doing my best to get rest. It was hard sleeping, feeling like eyes were on me at all times. Glowing, red eyes... peering at me from the corner of the room.

Leaving Colby's room, I sat on the couch. The club had yet to open, everyone being downstairs. The door to the apartment opened suddenly, my heart skipping a beat. Mike looked up at me awkwardly, my eyes diverting from his instantly.

"You okay?" He mumbled.

I looked back up at him, "What? Y-yeah. I'm alright."

"You look tired." He remarked.

I sighed, rubbing my neck. "That's because I am. What are you doing up here?"

"Gotta get changed into my security fit. I was gonna change out here, but I'll go in the bathroom." Mike replied, walking towards the bathroom door.

I stopped him, "No, you're good. I'll go back in Colby's room."

Before I could stand to leave, he interjected, "Wait, Jade. Can I talk to you for a second?"

"You know, the last time you said that, you tried killing me." I joked dryly.

He huffed, moving closer to me. "Well, I was also under manipulation from an Elder, so cut me some slack please."

I exhaled, sitting back against the couch. "Sure. What's up?"

He stood there, stiff, and then took a deep breath. "I'm just gonna say exactly how I'm feeling, if that’s okay with you."

I murmured, "Okay..."

"The other night you were wrong when you said that I hate you or that I probably wish you were dead. That's not true. Not at all. I.. uh, actually like you." He added, "A lot."

I held my breath, my brain short circuiting from his words. "You. You... like me?"

"Yes. More than I care to admit, clearly. Ever since you came around, it's been hard for me to say it. That's why I've been a total jerk to you all this time," Mike explained. "I'm telling you all of this because I want to apologize for being mean or making you feel lesser than. It wasn't my intention, ever."

"Right..." I exhaled, staring at the ground.

"If it makes you feel any better, when I was a human I was also terrible at expressing how I felt. So, I guess certain habits die hard." He chuckled half-heartedly.

I questioned him, sitting on the edge of my seat. "What do you mean by you 'like' me? Like... as a friend, right?"

His eyes averted mine. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Um, probably a bit more than friends. If I'm honest."

I pursed my lips together, my eyes widening. "Oh."

"It's hard for me to explain. Your blood is very... strong. So strong, in fact, that it makes it hard for me to act normal." Mike sat down across from me, moving his hands a lot as he continued, "The best way I can describe it is this; imagine wanting something so badly. Feeling like on a certain level you need it, that you crave it. You know that if you tried it, you’d be addicted to it. So, you do your best to stay away. To push it away. But it’s still there, all the time. Taunting you. You do your best to fight it, to keep it at an arm's length. But even then, you can’t help but admit to yourself that at the end of the day… you want it. But you will never have it.”

"...That's how you feel for me?" I uttered.

"For your blood, yes. But it also extends to you, too. Your blood makes it hard for me to think sometimes, and I end up taking it out on you." He wrung his hands nervously. Something I had never seen him done before in the year I knew him. Mike was never nervous or anxious. It was an interesting sight to behold.

I stuttered out my response, still processing his words. "I-I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he responded, his tone apologetic. "I just wanted to tell you how I'm feeling because I don't want you to think I hate you. I don't hate you. I never have. You just frustrate me because I know I can't have you. Ever. And I'm okay with that. But I think for a long time I wasn't okay... with that, so I took it out on you. And I'm sorry I did."

I swallowed the uncomfortable feeling in my throat, "This is a lot to take in, Mike."

"I know. I don't expect you to accept my apology now. Or ever, for that matter. I know I've hurt your feelings a lot over the past couple months. But I felt like I should tell you all of this before Colby does." He stated, lowering his voice.

I glanced up at him, shocked. "Y-You told Colby?"

"Yeah. It probably wasn't the best decision. That's why his hands were bandaged the other night when Ronnie was here. He basically beat my face to a pulp, and then that's when Kevin called letting us know what happened. His hand hadn't even healed by the time she was brought here." Mike commented, "That's also why I didn't show up to interrogate her."

I chewed on my bottom lip, "That explains why he was extra upset that night. On top of Ronnie attacking me, you confessed you had feelings for me."

"Probably not one of his best days, that's for sure,” he snickered.

I smirked, "No, I'd say not."

We sat there together, quietly; letting his words settle in. The air had been thick with tension, almost unbreathable. But it dissipated as the seconds ticked by. Was it weird that he admitted this to me, after all this time? Sure. Was I upset about it? ...I couldn't say.

At this point, with how crazy my life had become, him confessing his feelings was the least strangest thing to happen to me.

I was the first to speak, standing up slowly. "I'm gonna go back to Colby's room, if you don't have anything else you need to tell me."

He nodded, "Yeah, go ahead."

I hummed, trudging over to Colby's room. Mike called out my name, stopping me. I spun around, glancing at him.

Mike stood tall, his voice sincere. "I truly am sorry for what I've done to you, Jade. Feelings or not, I shouldn't have acted that way. I promise to do better."

My heart fluttered at the softness of his voice. His facade faded slowly, his eyes holding all of his emotions. I nodded, catching his gaze. "I appreciate that, Mike. I'll hold you to it."

He smiled kindly. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

~ \/ \/ ~

I dozed off after speaking to Mike, feeling strangely relaxed at the thought of him and I being on good terms. As much as he annoyed me, I didn't want to be angry at him all the time. And putting myself into his shoes, I imagine holding all of that in would drive a person to react that way.

Still, he's a dick. And I won't hold my breath in case he acts up again. But hopefully he was telling the truth, given how honest he sounded.

As I slept deeper and deeper into the night, my dreams abruptly changed from my normal ones to something of a nightmare.

I could feel a panic sink in, my chest pounding against my ribcage. I felt like I was short of breath, my body feeling heavy and stuck as I tried pushing through my dream. I was in a thick fog, everything around me a crimson red. I was off balance, my legs like jello as I walked further and further into this dark abyss. As the abyss morphed around me, It looked more and more familiar but it was hard to picture just where I was. Suddenly the fog cleared, a woman appearing in the center of my vision. She was tied to a throne, beaten and bloody. Her body was limp, her head lulled to the side. I trudged towards her, trying to get to her as fast as I could.

I stepped up to her, brushing her hair out of her face. I gasped, stumbling and falling back onto the ground beneath me hard.

Kat's eyes were swollen from tears, beaten and bruised. She was stabbed in multiple places, her blood soaking her binds. Her eyes ripped open, making direct contact with me. She screamed at the top of her lungs, begging me to help her. Crying my name helplessly.

FIND ME, JADE! HELP ME! SAVE. ME.

I jolted awake, a layer of sweat settled on my skin and clothes. I rushed out of Colby's room, finding Sam and Colby in the living room. They locked eyes with me, following me as I ran out to their car.

Sam drove hastily, running red lights as he took glimpses of me from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure about this, Jade? How do you know that wasn't just a dream?"

I shook my head, "I know what I saw, Sam. Something isn't right. When was the last time you talked to Kat?"

"A day or two ago. But that's not that big of a deal. She wanted some privacy since she accidently used her powers." He replied, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"I know that. But you've heard nothing from her since, right?" I queried, trying to catch his gaze.

Sam's voice fell to a whisper, realization hitting him. "Yeah but..."

Colby interrupted, trying to calm us down. "Maybe it's a warning, and not what's currently happening."

"That's all I can hope for. But God... it felt like I was there with her." Images of my dream flashed before my eyes, goosebumps rising on my skin as fear coursed through me.

"Why are you suddenly connected to her?" Sam questioned, looking up at me through the rearview mirror.

My heart squeezed in my chest, "There's a lot of things her and I have never told you guys. Things that we never even discussed ourselves. But if I'm right, I'll have to tell you it all tonight."

I waited with baited breath as we pulled up to her apartment building. Sam typed in the code, having the key to her place already in hand. We raced up the stairs to her door, throwing it open as we unlocked it.

To say the place was trashed was an understatement.

It was obvious that night when Kat used her powers, someone was waiting for her here. Someone knew what she had done, maybe even saw it happen, and knew where she would head to next. Her apartment was torn up, everything thrown about like Kat used anything and everything to defend herself.

My breath shuddered as I glanced towards her room, racing over to see if it was gone.

I glanced down at her books, all scattered about. I searched through them quickly, my breath hitching as I realized what book was missing.

Xiomara's book. It was gone.

Whoever took Kat knows she's related to her. The one that started all of this.

Kat was as good as dead.

<< CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 27 >>

#colby brock #sam golbach #sam and colby #mike's dead #katrina stuart #colby brock x oc #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock vampire #colby brock angst #the chosen daughter

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lostonehero · 1 year ago

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I'm late to mermay, but well, uh, no excuses have Siren! Martin doing such a great job in the archives.

Tim loved going to the ocean. He loved the water in general, and when Danny was still with him, he would try and fail to convince him to try to go with him during the winter. Danny always quoted old legends, but Tim didn't believe in them. Well, he does now, but that's besides the point.

The reason Tim believes is the 6ft5inch man in his apartment who is technically his husband or mate in his words. Of course, this happened years ago he's now a much more jaded man. He works for the insistute now trying to get answers for his brother, and somehow, his husband works there too. He really doesn't understand how he lied about everything on his CV.

"Tim?" A male voice pulls Tim out of his thoughts. "Should I wear this one or this one? We work together now in the archives, and you don't want me to match you."

"The blue one is fine, Martin." Tim smiles softly. Martin wasn't human, and he's honestly surprised nobody has figured it out. He's also grateful for the face that he's his husband, even if he keeps it secret.

"Are you sure? You want our mate bond to be kept secret. I don't know if they can smell it.... I should wear one from the dryer." Martin sighs.

Tim chuckles. "Just because I wore that to bed doesn't mean you can't wear it. We humans don't have the same abilities as you guys."

"Yeah, but I don't know if everyone there is human." Martin huffs.

They have this argument about once a week, which is fine. It's better than the raw meat debate. Tim smiles softly. "Alright, alright, won't wear your jumpers anymore."

Martin huffs. "I didn't say that! You always do this."

Tim chuckles. "Maybe I like seeing you riled up. Seriously though, it's fine as long as we don't arrive at the same time." They've been together years at this point, so they both know when they are joking.

"I know the drill, Tim." Martin sighs. "Can we share the same bed tonight?"

"I'm not sleeping in the tub with you again it took weeks for my skin to heal, and before you suggest it no I'm not going in the ocean either we were both incredibly late to work." Tim raised his brow and pauses. "Oh wait, you meant my bed."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Forget I asked."

"No, wait, yes." Tim moves closer to Martin. "Then I don't have to wear things that smell like you."

Martin smiles. "You're already my mate. You do not need to scent yourself of me."

"What if I want to?"

"I suppose that can be arranged."

......

Sasha rolled her chair closer to Tim. "So Jon totally has a crush on Martin. I was talking to his ex, and she totally agrees. How about a wager? I mean, Martin is totally into him. Have you seen how aggressive he is about taking care of Jon?"

Tim chokes on his tea. "W-what?" He wipes off the mess the best he could. "Sasha, he's that way to everyone."

"Not you, and nowhere near that way to me or anyone else in this building. Besides, the timing is perfect. We have that mandatory institute day out on the beach. Sure, we're picking up trash and sending flyers out about the institute, but there's also games and food. We can totally set them up." Sasha claps her hands together with a smile on her lips.

"No." Tim could feel that green eyed monster rear its ugly head. Danny always made fun of him because he insisted he felt nothing of their marriage. Danny was right, of course. He was about to out them, and he had to think of something. "No, I mean well, what are the stakes? Is Jon's ex going to be there?"

"Oooo, that could be even better." Sasha smirks. "She can help us, and she is bringing her girlfriend. Tim you're a genius."

Tim gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

......

Sasha pushed Martin and Jon together. "You two can start at one end, and Tim and I will start at the other. Then we'll meet up and get some American fair food they have."

Jon raised a brow. He was in a binder with a loose tank top above it and a pair of shorts. He was also in boots and long socks. "Ok? I don't understand why Elias has this to be mandatory."

Martin looked like he was about to growl and hiss. They were so close to the ocean that the instincts to take his mate to the ocean screamed at him. "Yeah, it's an odd choice."

Tim grits his teeth as Sasha pulls him away. He was still mostly human, well it was slowly changing but he was still mostly human but even he could feel the pull of the ocean he can't imagine how Martin feels.

......

Jon rubs his brow as he looks over to Martin, who is carrying about six full bags of trash without breaking a sweat. It was impressive and kind of depressing that there's that much trash. "Martin, we can stop and drop those off, we have a ways to go."

"Why?" Martin tilted his head in a way that Jon thought was adorable.

"Isn't it heavy?" Jon sighs he only had two half full bags since Martin keeps taking the full ones away from him.

"No, not really. Are you alright? Do you need more sunscreen? We are nearly done with our side." Martin puts the bags down and takes out a bottle of sunblock.

"I'm dark skinned Martin I don't need that much." Jon, let's out a noise of surprise since Martin already started to put on a fresh layer.

"Dark skin still burns." Martin is quick but thurough. "It's better to be safe."

Jon blushes a deep red. "I uh right, of course. Let us continue. We're almost done."

.....

Sasha and Tim waved from the start of the stands. "Took you guys long enough!" Sasha laughs.

Jon frowns. "Martin insisted I drink some water and put on another layer of sunscreen. However, we did collect the most trash."

Martin nods. "Yes! We found a big pile someone buried under the sand. Also your health is important."

Tim looked between them, and something clicked. The green eyed beast was dead, and Martin was treating Jon like a pod member who couldn't care for themselves. He did this before with Danny when he was really into extreme sports. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders. "How about some weird American food? Heard double boss man got some cool stuff like pickled lemonade, and fried oreos."

"Good lord, that sounds like a heart attack." Jon scoffs.

"I would like to try that. Sounds like a perfect hangover cure." Sasha chuckles.

.......

Martin somehow ended up on a cliffside. He loved watching the waves from this high up, Tim was behind him talking to Jon's ex, um Georgie was her name. It was very nice and he really wanted to jump.

"Pretty view." A old man was next to him. His white hair was wind swept back. "You can get lost in just how vast it is."

Martin nodded, not realizing he was moving forward until he was tumbling over the edge. Well, he wanted to do this anyway.

Tim did a double take before he started to run. "MARTIN!" He went over the edge as well, and he could swear he heard an old man laughing.

Georgie and Sasha ran to the edge. They saw Tim hanging on grabbing Martin on a ledge.

"Holy shit are you two ok?" Sasha stared down at them wide-eyed.

Tim huffs. "I know you're making that face. I'm not dropping you." He did not hear Sasha, but she can hear the two men.

"But Tim, the ocean! Pleaseeeee I wanna go with you." Martin huffs.

"No, Martin, you're going to out us!" Tim groans his grip was strong but not enough for their combined weight. "Grab onto a ledge! Use your damn claws."

"I will bite you." Martin holds his hand out and then slams it into the side of the cliff and lets go of Tim. "You owe me!"

"We can go swimming when it won't out us." Tim rolls his eyes and adjusts his grip with both hands. "Now focus, we need a way back up."

"I'm not helping you." Martin sticks his tongue out and climbs the clifside like he was a lizard and stops above Tim. "You're also banned until I see fit from taking my clothes."

"Seriously? We're literally hanging from a cliff." Tim huffs.

"You are. I am climbing." Martin kicks off his shoes then his socks. "Last chance."

Tim looks up at the two women staring at them, and of course, they see Martin sink his claws into stone. "Fine. Not because I want to, but because Sasha and Georgie already saw you sink your hands into the cliffside." He lets go of the cliffside and falls with his arms crossed.

Martin follows in a diving position.

Sasha and Georgie screamed.

......

"Now, Sasha, let's not be hasty." Elias hums, walking by the bottom of the cliffside. "You also said Martin pushed his hands into the cliffside."

"I'm sorry, Sasha, but he's right." Georgie frowns. "I believe in the weird, but that's like impossible, and to fall at that height."

"Well, I hope the supernatural exists." Jon mumbles. "They could survive the fall right?"

"Not likely, water becomes -" Elias is cut off by laughter.

"Martin! Bloody hell!" Tim said through laughter.

Martin was carrying Tim. They were walking out of the waves. "Oh, I love cliff diving. We should do that again!"

The four people stared at the two with jaws open.

#the magnus archives #tma #martim #martin blackwood #tim stoker

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