#the next day half their face is deformed and two days later they have a fever and the nest day they're dead

[daceytheshebear]

Hey kids, remember that sage piece of advice not to pick on your skin? I hope you're good at following it. I haven't been for the past twenty years and it was fine, really, untill today I woke up really hurting and unable to open my left eye because a pimple I repeatedly popped and squeezed inflamed. I have cellulites and I'm hospitalized taking intravenous antibiotics every four hours for at least the next three days to deter any chance of sepsis.

Thinking about all the fics set in a pre modern world where characters die of blood poisoning after minor wounds.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Jealousy Jealousy Smut Ver (R.R.)

Summary: Roman getting jealous after a waiter "flirted" with you turns into something more...Inspired by the Grace x Roman phone scene.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, degradation, lots of cursing, male masturbation, insecurity, mention of his ED

“So you have fun tonight?” Roman asks, undoing his tie

“Seriously?” You scoff, turning to look at him while placing your heels on the floor. He looks back at you already annoyed. 

“No because you were being a huge asshole but hey, what’s new?” You shrug, turning away from him and unzipping your dress. 

“Oh fuck off, you had fun. Certainly had fun flirting with that waiter,” he says, taking his dress shirt off. 

“Fuck you,” you reply, getting increasingly annoyed. Roman had been incredibly rude to the waitstaff today, giving you the cold shoulder. He got jealous when you had a simple conversation with one of the waiters who asked how your day was going. There was no flirting but Roman let his insecurities get the better of him.

“Yeah you fucking wish,” he mutters. 

“No you wish… or do you? I don’t fucking know at this point,” you say putting on one of his oversized T-shirt. 

“Yeah yeah you want to suck my cock,” he shrugs, grabbing his sleep clothes. 

“What’s wrong, Rome? Got a micro penis or something? Are you trying to hide some hideous deformation from me?” You taunt, anything to get him to just acknowledge the elephant in the room. Every time you tried to bring it up he’d just make a joke and try to change the topic.  You’d been dating for two years now, surely he’d be comfortable just talking about it. 

“I’ve got the most gorgeous cock. If you make a mold of it I guarantee Connor would buy one, better than fuckin’ Napoleon’s,” he quips, tugging on his sleep shirt. 

“I just want to see it,” you joke, looking up at him with a glint in your eyes.

“You’ve fuckin’ seen it, pretty sure you’ve got a whole folder of dick pics to blackmail me later with,” he laughs climbing into bed with you.

“That’s a photo, it doesn't count, the scale is off. Maybe put a quarter or something beside it next time. I’m not saying we have to fuck I just want to see it,” you say, turning to him and cuddling putting your hands under your head. 

“Just call your waiter if you want to see a cock. It might not be as impressionable as mine but it’ll make do in a pinch,” he nuzzles into the pillows, closing his eyes. 

“You know what… maybe I will,” you say reaching for your phone. His eyes whip open, watching your movements. He gapes as you turn your phone on then quickly yanking it out of your hand. 

“What the fuck?” You try to reach for it, he stretches his arm back. 

“No,” he simply says.

“No? Isn’t that what you wanted? You have a kink for being cucked or something? I’m just doing what you asked,” you shrug. 

“Oh fuck you! You know he’ll never be able to please you. You want to get fucked? Fine,” he says, unceremoniously detangling himself from the sheets, cursing under his breath. He climbs on top of you, pinning your hips down.

“Wait… Roman, are you a pervert? You want me to go fuck the waiter and tell you how much better his dick is?” You laugh, scanning his face. He stays quiet, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you. 

“Oh my god, you little fucking pervert. You’re disgusting,” your face turns a little more serious as his eyes turn half lidded. He seems almost dazed at your words… oh, he likes this. You break free from his grasp, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him down next to you. You straddle his hips now. 

“Look at you so fucking pathetic, you look so stupid right now,” you say looking down at him from the bridge of your nose. 

“Aww the spoiled little brat can’t even get his dick hard,” you taunt, hand on his chest as you lean forward. You get close to his face. 

“Is this what you want? Want to be treated like the piece of shit you are?” You ask, eyes flicking toward his lips. His chest rising faster in anticipation as he nods. You shift down his hips to give him more space until you feel the unexpected bulge in his sleep pants. This was entirely new.

“You’re already turned on? No doubt, since no one ever fucks you. Can’t find someone to give you want you want,” you say. 

“Take off your shirt,” you demand, leaning back on his thighs. 

“W-what?” He asks, he’d never taken his shirt off in front of you. Afraid you’d call him fat and he’d dive straight back into restricting his calories.

“Did I say you can talk? Disgusting perverts like you aren’t allowed to speak unless spoken to, understand?” You say, arms crossed. He tries to nod his head, his mind spinning at this new dynamic.

“I’m fucking talking to you idiot,” you lean forward, face centimeters away from his.

“Yes, yes I understand,” he stutters, reeling in the feeling of being out of control.

“Take it off,” you say, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. He hesitates, slowly sliding it up his torso before leaning up and yanking it off. He can’t even look at you, he shrinks into himself, arms across his torso trying to hide. You forcefully yank his arms to his side. 

“Fuck, Roman,” you say looking down at him. Scanning every piece of skin you see like it’s the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen. 

“What’s wrong?” He says, voice shaky.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” you peck him on the lips. He’s far from fucking gone. In all the reactions he imagined he’d received, this wasn’t one of them. 

“Good now, sit up and take your pants off,” you say, completely removing yourself from him. He misses your weight on him. He tries to ask why but you shut him down.

“God you’re not only a fucking sicko but you’re a moron too? Follow my fucking directions,” you say sitting down close to the edge of the bed. He scrambles to sit up, pulling at his pants off but keeping his boxers on. 

“Touch yourself,” you command, staring at him. You open his legs wider and sit in between his feet. You wanted to be close enough to see him but far enough so he can still have full control over the situation. If he said no you’d stop immediately but he slowly drops his palm to his bulge. Nudging at it like it’s something foreign. 

“Look at you, you’re so fucking disgusting. trying to hide your little cock from me. Put your hand in there, fucking pervert,” You hiss, gaining more comfortability in this dynamic. He looks up at you before sliding his hand in his boxers, sighing at the warmness of his hand. He only strokes himself with the tips of his fingers, head leaning back at the sensation. 

“You’re fucking pathetic, already whining and you haven’t even fully touched your cock. God you’re just a filthy little fucking pig,”you say, he’s panting as he finally grips himself. 

“You’re gonna finish in two seconds like a little virgin. You’re fucking revolting, look at you squirming like a worm. You’re just a disgusting little worm,” you say.

“Y-yeah, I am,” he says, maintaining eye contact. 

“What else are you, huh? A selfish spoiled little brat. A sick fucking pervert, you disgust me,” you sneer, his hips jolting as he’s feels the familiar feeling in his gut. 

“Yes, yes,” his voice breathier. Hand stroking faster as he’s practically fucking his hand.

“Cum in your fucking underwear, gonna make you sleep in ‘em. So you can be reminded all night how repulsive y’are, can’t even fuck your partner, gotta fuck your own hand like the fucking loser that you are” you finalize, his hips stuttering, eyes rolling to the back of his head. You can’t help but stare at the wet patch in his underwear. You take your time to study him, eyes roaming the expanse of his chest, the vein running up his neck after squeezing his jaw tight, and the way he pulls his hand out covered in his cum. 

You grab his hand, looking at the glistening cum on it and take a lick. He moans at the feeling of your warm tongue on his skin. It’s the first time you’ve touched him. 

“Finish it for me,” you hold his wrist to his bottom lip, smearing it with his cum. 

“Typical, always having me finish what you started,” he rolls his eyes, shuddering at your proximity before licking his hand clean, not taking his eyes off yours as you stare at his tongue working at his fingers.

“Good, let’s get to bed,” you say, crawling over your side of the bed. He looks at you dumbfounded. 

“What ‘bout you?” He slurs, tiredness catching up to him. 

“We’ll worry about me another day, c’mon” you motion for him to join you. 

He takes a second before getting under the sheets next to you. The pent up cum spilled all over his underwear, it sticks to his skin like glue, making a mess of himself. He snuggles into your chest pulling you close as he intertwines your legs. 

“Ugh, you’re disgusting. Your cum is getting all over my thigh,” you complain at the sticky feeling.

“Fuck off, you love it,” he sighs, nuzzling his head into your chest. He just knows he’s gonna have the best sleep of his life. You were the first person to understand Roman, you help him explore this new side of himself.

[edgessunflower]

Wisdom teeth

Pairing: Kris Statlander x Fem reader

Description: Kris takes care of you after you get your wisdom teeth removed

You wobble to the car with Kris beside you after getting two of your wisdom teeth removed gently talking to you whenever you moaned in pain trying to sleep if you could which you did for some of the way home. After setting you down on the bed you slowly spoon eat a milkshake before she gives you over the counter pain meds putting gauze in your mouth falling asleep a few seconds later waking up to use the bathroom with kris standing in the kitchen waiting for you and staying close to you until the anesthesia wears off reminding you not to drink soda or eat anything that requires tons of chewing mainly sipping on chocolate milk and eating mac n cheese to have something a bit solid while still being easy to eat so you wouldn't spend the next two days eating soup "Hey baby here's a little bread since that's easy to eat as well" you take a few bites of the bread roll she gives you before taking pain relievers watching tv in between talking with Orange, Hook, Willow, and Penta on facetime for the next few hours until kris hears everyone laughing "What's funny?" they point at you half asleep with your gauze sticking out quickly fixing it and kissing your forehead "Looked like a small deformed state puft marshmallow man"everyone bursts into laughter before ending the call waking up and watching tv before kris brings you soup opting to eat it and soaked up bread with milk before changing out your gauze feeling most of the pain going away. The next few days go by without pain and halfway through the third day you didn't use the gauze seeing that the bleeding had stopped feeling your eyes water at the sight of kris making hamburgers your mouth and taste buds melting when you took the first bite making kris laugh seeing the expression on your face as you eat the hamburger and fries "God I can finally ear without pain" you had two of the four wisdom teeth removed one cause it was infected and the other cause it was pushing on the nerves of the tooth under it keeping your other two since you had lost the previous two in a texas death match against Ruby letting them grow in and replace the lost ones, you enjoy eating like normal again without the unbearable pain coursing through you and you thank kris for taking care of you by making dinner the next night even though she insisted you didn't have to but you did anyway.

[acorn-squash-writes]

[Image 1: A photo in an old newspaper of a person holding a sign that says “U.K. Feed the Starving Now.”]

[Image 2: An old newspaper in a cardboard box. Transcription:

Peace News

This Week: 2 special features on war-economy & war-psychology pages 2 & 6

Friday 14 March 1969

One Shilling

Headline: Squatters family given rent-book

Subtitle: GLC climb-down

Kevin McGrath writes: The first solid—and vital—victory of the growing squatter movement in London came last week, with the decision of the Greater London Council to give a rent-book to Maggie O’Shannon.

Maggie, who is a widow with two children, became the first actual squatter of the current wave when, with the backing of the Notting Hill Squatters, she moved on January 18 into a GLC-owned house in Camelford Road, Notting Hill.

She had been living in a squalid, leaking basement flat a few doors away. This has now been condemned as unfit for human habitation. She was joined a few days later by the Matthews family, escaping from similar conditions.

At first the Council blustered. But faced with a street united behind the squatters, and with the certainty of appalling publicity—at best—if they attempted an eviction, the accepted the inevitable and issued the rent-books.

Section header: More Concessions

More concessions have been wrung from Kensington and Chelsea Council, following the action of the squatters. The leader of the majority Tory group has announced that the Council will be introducing rate changes on empty property.

Moreover, five families on the Council waiting list have been moved into Council-owned properties that have stood vacant for up to two years.

But if the GLC has been forced to back-pedal in the name of suffering humanity and public relations in Notting Hill, it can be expected to hit back all the harder where this is politically possible. And the occupation last week of a derelict hope in Drury Lane, by the Arts Lab-oriented “Human Rights Group”, looks the obvious target.

Headline: ‘No one wants the war to end’

The text below is part of a letter sent to a Peace News reader by a nurse working for one of the aid agencies in Lagos, Federal Nigeria. We’d like to thank both reader and nurse for permission to use it.

The longer I stay here, the more frustrated I become. There is a large British expatriate community who discuss the price of fish, and when they’re next going to have their hair done.

The men (middle-aged husbands) are no better, and are only able to talk about the wickedness and corruption of the Nigerians.

Nigeria is certainly more racialist than South Africa, though not as blatantly so, the difference being that 50% of the African population is unemployed.

There are five servants in the house I’m staying in. They get £6 each a month, which is pitifully low.

Section header: Poverty

When I try to discuss the war, no one is interested, except to moan that all imported goods have gone up in price. But as far as I can gather, no one wants the war to end, since it partly solves the unemployment problem.

The soldiers are paid £18 per month, and given a pair of boots. However, when the order comes for them to go into the bush to fight, there is mass desertion.

The poverty in Lagos is horrible to see. Corrugated iron shacks, no water or light, housing 15 people at a time, face the Hosues of Parliament which have been empty for 2 and a half years.

Matches are split in half and sold singly, and children are deformed by their parents to make them beggars.

Oh, how I want to leave Lagos! Do write and tell me about life in London. It seems so far away.

Headline: Saigon: More Repression

A relief worker who was in Saigon till just after the recent Tet New Year holiday—i.e. before the new NLF offensive began—has had the following report forwarded to us by Susan Miles.

The markets were crowded with shoppers. The streets were filled with crowds of people, visiting and being visited, giving and receiving presents and good wishes for the New Year.

There were many Viet Cong in Saigon and the suburbs, distributing leaflets with Ho Chi Minh’s New Year Greetings and caring on the people to support the Viet Cong.

I was told that the distributors were surrounded by sympathizers, not necessarily Communist, so that the police could not arrest them.

Section heading: ‘Normality’

Behind the apparently gay normality is a different story, though many of the people themselves may not be aware of what is happening.

The Government—insecure—becomes more and more repressive. All but one of the committee of the Students Union at Saigon University were arrested at the end of December and the beginning of January.

The one who escaped is, of course, in hiding, but she has written a report which was given to me to bring out, though it has still to be translated.

The only crime of the students is that they discuss peace. A report of one of their meetings, attended by non-students as well, said:

“In a country where it is illegal to discuss peace, much of the discussion was about how to put our ideas frankly and still be lawful.”

A young Catholic priest and a layman, who have taken part in such activities, were called for questioning by the police many times during January.

Section heading: Dictatorship

In one instance, the layman was questioned for 24 hours without a break. The questions are about meetings. “Why did you go?” “Who are the organisers?" The assumption is always that if peace is discussed, then Communists are behind it.

I talked with a Buddhist monk, concerned with how to keep contact with the outside world in what he considered was going to be a very critical period for those who do not support the Government and the war.

He told me that on the radio, during Tea, President Thieu had said he was prepared for a military dictatorship and would destroy the “minority” who were in opposition.

All these people I talked to looked very tired and strained, but by no means discouraged.

Headline: ‘I want the war to end’

Black and white photo: A person is holding a sign that reads:

U.K.

Feed the Starving

Now

In Nigeria

And Biafra

The person with the sign is light-skinned, with dark hair and bangs, and is wearing knee-length leather boots. End photo description.

America—One of about two dozen members of the Philadelphia Emergency Committee on Nigeria/Biafra who picketed the British Consulate on South 12th Street last month.

The Committee is just one of about 150 action groups in America concerned to stop the suffering and end the war. Photo by Peter Johnson.]

[Image 3: Section heading: ‘Normality’

Behind the apparently gay normality is a different story, though many of the people themselves may not be aware of what is happening.]

I randomly saw this old newspaper at work yesterday, and it sent me on a slight depressive spiral. It's some young person protesting the war, wanting peace and for all the hungry to be fed. It's just like the protesters on the campuses right now! And this newspaper is so old it cost ONE SHILLING. The UK hadn't even decimalized their currency yet!

We've really been protesting "the war" for a barely interrupted half century? Just every decade or so they switch up which war it is we have to protest.

[hello-nichya-here]

alright living up to my reputation as a tipsy anon :) how about that halloween party idea I mentioned? is it original? no. do I wanna write it anyway? yea :D 

also, I know I promised a part 2 on a different drabble but I didn't like that one & I (think?) I do like this one so maybe there will be a part 2 idk 

---

---

"You good, buddy?" Sokka asked, laughing and patting Zuko on the shoulder as Zuko stumbled out of the porta-potty, swaying on his feet. 

Zuko rolled his eyes, flipping Sokka the bird as his friend went into the porta-potty next. The massive event was winding down. A girl in a catsuit was holding back her sexy nurse friend's hair as the nurse puked in the bushes nearby. The food trucks had all closed by now. A handful of 'whooping' kids were still playing a game of beer pong at a folding table. Zuko had worried he would run into Azula tonight, but so far - no sign of her. He knew she'd started this semester, a freshman and two years behind him, but he'd yet to bump into her on campus. It had been just over six years since Zuko saw his sister - since the day he was taken away by social services and sent to live with his uncle after his father scarred the left side of his face beyond recognition on a hot stove. 

Halloween was the biggest party of the year for Caldera University students - it took place just far enough into the autumn semester that everyone was desperate for a chance to unwind. Plus what twenty-something didn't love a good excuse to dress up ridiculously and drink enough booze to destroy their liver? 'A Halloween Party's a rad excuse, to put your body through mad abuse,' Zuko thought, amusing himself with the reference. 

"What are you grinning at?" 

Zuko turned at the sound of a piercing voice nearby. A very beautiful girl in a very tiny red dress was leaning against a tree, smirking at him. Her lips matched her dress. She was wearing red stiletto heels with straps showing off her perfect calves. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders in soft locks, and she wore a red and black masquerade-style mask. She was also wearing a headband with curling deep red goatlike horns on top. 

"Here to tempt me into another drink? Or maybe into bailing on my buddy and walking back to my dorm alone?" Zuko asked, opting to ignore her question. 

The girl chuckled. "Why would I do that?" She was trying to convey a sense of certainty, but Zuko heard the slur in her voice. 

"Well, you're the devil, right?" Zuko said. 

"Perhaps not original," the girl said. "Granted. But it's fitting, trust me." She winked. Then she walked a little closer, touching the white mask covering the left half of Zuko's face. It was just them under the trees. A shiver ran down Zuko's spine at her touch. Her fingernails were long and painted black with intricate blue designs on each of them, like flames. "And you're what - hiding a horrible deformity?" 

Zuko glared. "The Phantom of the Opera is a very popular book." 

"Most people have only seen the movie," the girl said. Her hand was still on Zuko's face. "But I get your point." She narrowed her eyes, peering at him through her masquerade mask. "Do I know you from somewhere?" 

"Don't think so," Zuko said. Then he frowned. "You seem kind of familiar too." 

"Oh trust me," the girl said. "I'm not the kind of person you'd forget." She laughed, and it was a surprisingly cute sound, soft and uncertain. So far this girl had come across as cold, maybe even a little mean. "I'll admit I'm new here and I haven't met a lot of people worth talking to. Do you want to go back to my dorm with me?" 

Ten minutes later, Zuko found himself in the cleanest dorm room he'd ever seen. Unlike his and Sokka's shared space, there were no clothes or books scattered across the floor or on the desks. The single-bed dorm was so spotless it would be easy to mistake it for empty. Zuko sat on the bed while his mystery friend dug in a drawer, producing a bottle of Kors Vodka, Gold Edition. 

"You have expensive taste," Zuko said as she sat beside him on the meticulously made bed. 

The girl laughed, taking off the lid and drinking from the bottle. "Well, consider yourself lucky I like you." She handed him the bottle. "Normally I'm rather stingy." 

Zuko smirked, taking a drink. "You must not have met many people worth meeting here." 

The girl frowned, looking down as she took the bottle back. "No, not really. Then again, I have a way of chasing people off." 

Zuko moved a little closer on the bed, instinctively putting a hand on her knee. "I'm not going anywhere."

The girl smirked, and Zuko's insides warmed up. "No, you're not." 

Zuko found his eyes wandering the girl's body now. He might have had more shame if it weren't for the booze flowing through him. As it was, he ran his hand up her thigh, pushing the ends of her skirt up. She leaned into it, touching his chest with her hand. Zuko's eyes were drawn to the low cut of her costume, showing off the edges of a black silky bra. 

The mystery girl pressed her lips to Zuko's then and it was sweet for a moment - hesitant and shy. Then Zuko pushed her backward on the bed, climbing on top of her and kissing her with everything he had, running his hands across her curves and exploring her body. Zuko wasn't sure what compelled him to do it - if it was the booze or the intense attraction. He thought maybe though that something about this girl was just begging for it. The soft, surprised, sound of pleasure she let out as his hand slid between her legs, playing with her tiny panties, confirmed that she was enjoying the way he was holding her down. 

"Are you always this forceful?" she panted, a challenge in her gold eyes, still encased in the mask. 

Zuko grinned, sliding his fingers under her panties and teasing her as he bit down on her neck, making her cry out. "No," he said, kissing lower, until his face was between her breasts, kissing the exposed cleavage. "You're special." 

The costumes make total sense, and hell yes she's special! If that's how extra horny Zuko was just by looking at her, imagine once he knows it's Azula AND has moved on from the shame of "I can't sleep with my sister (again)."

Always great to see your scenarios! I live for them!

[serasvictoria]

So I was supposed to be writing an incubus Hvitserk drabble and instead I got this beast that’s a little in over 2k long…

Under the moon, the wolves gather

“You want me to do what?”

“Chain me up.”

Ubbe held up the thick chains and a heavy padlock. You looked at them and then up at him again in confusion. Why was he asking you to do this? The two of you had dabbled in some kinky stuff a couple of times before, but asking you to chain him up was new and you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to subject him to something like that. What if you did it wrong? Besides, the roles were usually very much reversed. Ubbe wasn’t exactly what you’d call submissive. He had always very much been the alpha in your relationship and you liked it that way.

“Did you get this idea from Ivar?” You grabbed one of the ends of the chain and lifted it up. It looked like the kind of chains that people used to tow cars, not like something that people used in sexual games. “I know that he’s into some sick shit, but this is next level…”

“It’s not about that.” He sighed deeply, growing exasperated with your inability to get why he was asking you this. “It’s about that attack.”

“The animal.”

It hadn’t happened that long ago. Ubbe had been in the woods that stretched out at the back of the house. He later told you that he had heard noises and had gone to investigate while you slept. You always slept like a log so you hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten out of bed to begin with. It wasn’t until he stumbled back in later on, crashing against the door that led into the bedroom, covered in blood and using his shotgun as some sort of makeshift crutch, that you had even realised that he had gone outside.

He started rambling incoherently about how there had been something in the woods that had attacked him, something big and black, something that had scratched him and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Thankfully Ubbe hadn’t just lain down and given up. Not him. Despite the fact that the animal had a firm grip on his shoulder, Ubbe had started throwing punches wherever he could hit it. From what you had heard from others, he had a mean right hook and he had once broken the jaw of some idiot who had decided to hit on Ubbe’s then girlfriend. It was safe to say that something like that had never happened again afterwards.

Somewhere in between hitting the animal’s muzzle, it had released him and howled in pain. Ubbe had launched his full weight into the animal, knocked it against the ground and had run back into the house. You could only assume that his adrenaline had taken over at that point. While you did your best to clean out his injuries, he was pointing the barrel of his shotgun at the door right behind you in case whatever the hell had attacked him followed him into the house.

It never came.

The ambulance came half an hour later and after spending the good part of the following day in the hospital, where they disinfected his wounds and gave him a rabies shot just in case, he was home again. He did nothing but lay in the bed and sleep for the following two days. You assumed that it was because of shock, but you weren’t exactly an expert. Hvitserk came by to check on his brother daily and he reassured you that you probably didn’t have to worry. He checked the injuries with you and despite the fact that they looked horrific to you, Hvitserk had confidently stated that your concerns were unnecessary. According to him they were healing just fine. Apparently. Again, you were no expert.

It wasn’t until Ubbe eventually woke up, got out of bed and started eating again that you could finally breathe easily. He acted the same way he usually did. Just the same caring and sweet soul that you had first fallen for.

But then odd things started to happen. His sense of smell seemed to have gotten better. Even to the point that when he was out in the woods, which he patrolled almost endlessly in case the animal came back, he always seemed to materialise from out of nowhere because he could smell that you were making him a sandwich for lunch. That had actually happened a couple of times. Didn’t matter how far away from the house he was, he could smell food. His wounds also healed at a speed that seemed far from normal. About a week after he had gotten attacked, all that you could see were faint markings on his skin, like they were old scars. And one night you had found him in the kitchen while he was eating a raw steak that you were going to cook him the next evening.

Odd things. Too many things to count. And now this.

“I know what it was.”

“I thought it was a bear?” Despite the fact that Ubbe had sworn high and low that it was some kind of wolf-like creature that had attacked him, you knew that it couldn’t be the case. There were no wolves near where you lived. But there were bears so maybe he had gotten it mixed up while he had been attacked? It had been night after all. “It couldn’t have been anything else.”

“It was a werewolf.”

“A werewolf?” You shook your head. “Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright?” You instantly recalled a line from a werewolf movie that you had seen a couple of times. “One of those?”

“Not like in the movies.” He held the chain out to you again and you took it with some slight hesitation. “This is real.”

“Come on. Werewolves aren’t real.”

“Just stop arguing with me and do it.” Tired of talking, he grabbed your hand and dragged you down into the basement. There were hooks anchored into the wall down there which one of the previous occupants had installed for reasons that were entirely unknown to you. “Wrap the chain around my chest and arms. Lock them together. Then go back upstairs and don’t come down here to check on me no matter how much noise I make.”

“Ubbe, this isn’t funny.” He wasn’t one to play pranks on you, but there was a first time for everything. “Why are you even asking me to do this?”

“Because I don’t know what I’ll do if I change. Please just…”

“What if I lose the key to this padlock? Am I supposed to just call Ivar and ask him to bring his bolt cutters? How is that going to look?”

“Just do it!” In all the time that the two of you had been together, he had never once raised his voice at you. You dropped the chain out of your hands and stared at it as it lay at your feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He grabbed your hands and angled himself in such a way that you had to look at him. “It’s just… there’s not a lot of time. I don’t know when it’ll happen, when I’ll change…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You brushed your hand over his cheek and smiled at him. “Do you really want me to do this?” He nodded. “This is definitely one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done…”

Ubbe sat in front of the wall and you picked the chain up off the floor again, but before you could take the remaining few steps in his direction, his face twisted in agony. The chain was instantly forgotten and you made it to his side, cupping his face in your hands to make him look at you, but he pushed at your chest hard instead. You landed on your ass on the hard concrete floor. Swearing loudly, you’d been about to ask him what the hell his problem was, but all words failed you when you looked in his direction again.

He was laying on the floor, back arched, clawing at his chest and tearing at his clothes, like they were constricting him. It wasn’t until he managed to tear the fabric away, that you noticed that his nails had gotten longer and not only that, his hands seemed to have changed. Stretched out and deformed, his palms lengthened to almost inhuman proportions. His shirt gave way and when you saw his chest you started scooting away from him, moving backwards until you were sitting underneath the stairs, your back pressed against the wall behind you.

His claws were tearing at his skin, creating large openings in his skin and fur started poking through somehow. His jeans tore open as the entire lower part of his body started transforming as well, legs getting even longer than they already were. You could hear his bones breaking and he started howling, his own voice turning into something more animalistic the longer he kept going. You slammed your hands over your ears in a weak effort to stop yourself from hearing him, but it was to no avail. Nothing could stop that noise from reaching your ears.

Rolling over, he was on his hands and knees now, his limbs changing to something new, more wolflike. The scream that had kept pouring from his mouth got lower as his rib cage expanded. His face was the last thing to change. His entire skull was shifting. His jaw elongated to properly accommodate his new teeth and where had once been his nose, a muzzle was appearing, pushing itself out of his skull. His ears, longer and pointier, started appearing out of his fur. Somewhere in his howl, his own voice still appeared to be mixed in there, making it sound altogether eerier. Right before he collapsed to the floor, he turned his head in your direction and you saw that his beautiful blue eyes had turned yellow.

You released a shuddering breath when you saw that he wasn’t changing anymore, but when you saw him shift, you were frozen. You found yourself wishing that you could press yourself further back into the wall or that you could get your legs to move. But even if you could make your muscles cooperate, what would you do? He could probably smell you. The fear that was wafting from your pores was bound to be some delicious perfume that he’d be able to follow no matter where you went. On the off chance that you even managed to make it outside, he’d probably pounce on you before you ever got into the car and then he’d tear you limb from limb right there on the driveway.

You didn’t stand a chance.

Where his transformation had obviously hurt him immensely, none of that pain was present now. He got to his feet and shook his head. Where Ubbe had been before, a huge wolf now took his place. A whimper escaped from your lips and he turned himself in your direction almost lazily, big yellow eyes completely fixed on you. His movements were slow, probably not seeing the need to throw himself on you when it was quite obvious that you weren’t going to move anyway. It was almost as if he moved in slow motion and the closer he got, the more that you became aware of the fact that saliva was dripping from his lower jaw. He took in a deep breath, taking your scent in deeply and he blinked once before moving in even closer.

Right before he stuck his head underneath the stairs, you closed your eyes and found yourself silently saying prayers to whichever god you could think of, praying that it would be over soon and that you’d go quickly at least. As soon as his warm breath hit your face, you stopped breathing, too terrified to even take as much as another breath. It wasn’t until your lungs started burning up from lack of oxygen that you finally took in another deep breath. You opened one eye carefully while you waited for him to move. Instead you found him looking at you almost curiously with those new big yellow eyes of his.

Completely out of the blue, he suddenly pressed his muzzle against your neck, taking in another deep breath, before turning his head so he could lick your cheek. You wiped at your cheek when you felt the wetness and he briefly looked down, almost apologetic in his gesture, before fixing his eyes on you again. With shaking hands you reached out, slowly moving towards his head and when he didn’t move, you ran a hand down his jaw. He eased into your touch almost immediately and you saw his back leg move to scratch at his side when you scratched his ear. When you giggled nervously, he fell down onto his side and nudged at your legs with his nose. You stretched your legs out in front of you and he dropped his head down onto your thighs, putting one of his paws over you to make sure you couldn’t pull away.

“What am I going to do with you now, huh?” He cracked open one eye to look at you and you leaned forward to press your lips on his head. “Big bad wolf.”

*****

Tagging: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @methotrex8 (I forgot to do it last night, it was late!)

[plant-flwrs]

Hellloooo!

Can I request a Ravenclaw!Reader x George Weasley where the reader is studying and George is trying to distract her. Thought that would be funny lol

Thank you very much!

essays can wait // george weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: i wanted to give u guys at least a little something as i get my brain started again, and this may absolutely suck, but if it does u r all obligated to lie to me and tell me u love it :D (jk) (not really)

summary: George is just too cute to ignore, even if he’s trying to distract you from two huge essays. 

(1.3k)

---------

Sometimes, it felt like Professor Sprout and Professor Snape wanted you to suffer. 

You had massive essays for both of the classes due on Monday and you were not looking forward to it. 

The Great Hall was fairly empty, it being a Saturday, and you poured over the second roll of parchment on your Potions essay. You looked between a book you had checked out at the library, your Potions textbook, and the notes you had taken in class, trying to make sense of the subject. You struggled to wrap your head around it, and soon you let your head fall to rest on the table. The stress had overcome you, and you felt exhausted.

You were barely sleeping, homework piling up more and more every day. You had hoped you could have just this weekend to yourself, George had even asked you to Hogsmeade for the day. You told him no, explaining your essay problem. 

You lifted your head with great efforts, your neck feeling so weak and your head feeling like it weighed 20 pounds. You blinked a few times, looking back at your essay.

You noticed a small balled up piece of paper on the table. You picked it up, unfolding it and smoothing it in your hands. It was a simple doodle of some flowers, so you began to cast it aside. Just as you were about to put it down, an assortment of beautiful flowers sprang from the paper, seeming to appear from nothing. Just as quickly as they appeared, they sank back into the paper, becoming doodles again. The smell of flowers, however, hung in the air. You smiled, already knowing who it was from.

A strong and easy pair of hands slid onto your shoulders, and two thumbs pressed into your neck, applying some pressure and rubbing. You leaned into George’s touch, mouth opening in relaxation as he eased away some of your tension. His hands let up after a while, moving to wrap his forearms around your neck in an embrace. His mouth was close to your ear, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, sending shivers down your arms.

You nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into his chest behind you. 

“I liked the flowers,” you finally said, turning around to look at him, “thank you.”

He smiled and looked at your lips. He leaned in slowly, kissing you gently. His hand cupped your cheek, the other diving into your hair. You pulled away after a moment, feeling your mind getting clouded.

“I’ve got loads of work to do,” you mumbled against his lips, frowning.

“That’s alright,” he said, pulling away and sitting next to you.

“You should go to Hogsmeade with Fred,” you said, feeling bad that he was staying in the castle with you.

“No, I’d rather hang out with you,” he said, pulling a bag of candies from his pocket and eating a few.

You smiled gratefully at your boyfriend, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked down at the work in front of you. You scanned through the books, gently removing your head from his shoulder and getting back to work. 

It had only been ten minutes before George interrupted you.

“What’s that?” he mumbled with candy in his mouth as he pointed at your Potions notes.

You looked to where his long and slender finger rested on the notebook, seeing a picture you had drawn of one of the herbs needed for the potion. 

“Bubotuber,” you mumbled, turning your eyes back to your now third roll of parchment. 

“Hm,” George mumbled approvingly, looking deeper into the notebook. 

You nudged it towards him with your elbow, no longer needing it for this part of your essay. He picked it up and looked at it thoughtfully, eyes scanning over your handwritten notes.

This time, he had gone an entire hour until another interruption. You were rolling up the final rolls of parchment for your Potions essay, putting it away. You began to pull out your materials for Herbology, sighing as you dipped your quill into ink.

“How long will this one take?” George yawned out, shutting your Potions notebook.

“Not sure,” you said airily, sighing as you opened your textbook.

“Do you want a nap?” he suggested, sitting up straight and looking at you with an excited expression.

“Now?” 

“Yeah,” he said, looking at your things, “you can take this stuff with you and finish it later.”

“Are you tired?” you asked him, looking hesitantly between him and the papers in front of you.

“Well, I was up all night learning how to make flowers sprout from a paper, so yeah,” he said, holding your bag out to you.

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you gave in and agreed to go up to his dorm with him.

You climbed the stairs to his room, and he sprang onto his bed the second he was close enough. The red that covered almost everything was something you were used to by now, but you still preferred the soothing blue of your own common room.  He moved to the edge, curling his body in a deformed ‘L’ shape so he lay on his side with his top half rested against the pillows and his legs bordering the edge of the bed.

You sat next to him, resting your back against his legs as your legs hung off the bed. You began pulling out your papers, setting your roll of parchment on your lap on top of your textbook.

“I thought you said we could nap!” he whined, shoving his face into a pillow.

“You can! I’ll just finish this really quickly,” you assured him, watching as he removed his face from the pillow.

You reached out and brushed some hair off of his forehead, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. 

“Promise?” he mumbled, already half asleep.

“Promise,” you whispered back, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

You ran your fingers through his hair a few more times until his soft snores filled the room. You retracted your hand and got to work on your Herbology essay.

You were just about finished with writing about the purpose of Snargaluff horns when George stirred behind you. He adjusted his body so he curled around you, now creating a ‘C’ shape as his legs bent around you. His arms wrapped around your middle, and he perched his head in your lap. He had trapped one of your arms in his grasp, preventing you from flipping the piece of parchment over when you covered the front. 

You were usually able to work through George’s distractions, but this one may have been too cute to work through. You carefully leaned over, making sure not to squish his head, and put your books on the table next to the bed. You carefully unwrapped George from around your middle, cupping your hands under his head and lifting it gently to rest on the pillow. He stirred again, this time waking. His eyes blinked open.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and deep, “what’d you do that for?”

He moved to wrap himself around you again, determined to prevent you from being productive. You giggled, shifting in his grasp so he would let go.

“Fine,” he huffed, turning over to lay straight on the bed with his back to you.

“George,” you said, smiling at his antics.

You leaned over, placing your hands on his side and pulling him to lay on his back.

“No, I get it,” he groaned, covering his face with his arm and muffling his words with his sweater sleeve, “Herbology is more important than your boyfriend.”

“It is,” you said, extending your legs and leaning back into the pillows, “but for some reason I like you more than Herbology today.”

George uncovered his face, revealing a wide smile as his eyes were still closed.

“Just today?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Just today,” you repeated, resting your arm against George’s chest as you turned to lay on your side.

[bamf-jaskier]

Who the Fuck is Eskel?

If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy? 

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books. 

Post under the cut

Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves. 

For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show. 

We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:

“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”

“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.

“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”

“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”

Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.

She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped. “Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”

Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.

“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”

She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.

“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.

“Wolf, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”

Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear. 

Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them: 

“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”

Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV. 

Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.

“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”

“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”

This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s. 

“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”

“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”

“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”

“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”

It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.

“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”

Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself: 

Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.

“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”

Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society. 

There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:

“White Seagull.”

“What?”

“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”

“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”

“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”

“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”

“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”

I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.  

Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted. 

In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word. 

Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier. 

Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.

And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events: 

This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.

“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?”

“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”

“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”

“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”

“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”

Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict. 

This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:

The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.

Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.

So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen. 

The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this: 

The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.

“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”

“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.

“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”

“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”

“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”

“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”

“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”

They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.

“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”

Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks. 

So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point. 

Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel. 

[fqirysung]

build me up, buttercup! l.jn

buttercup, don’t break my heart.

✿ pairing: lee jeno x popular!reader ✿ genre: just pure angst ✿ warnings: small cursing ✿ notes: gender neutral!reader, intentional lowercase, reader is referred to as they/them, the reader is also a huge bitch, mostly in jeno’s perspective ✿ word count: 1.4k ✿ rating: pg ✿ author’s note: my first non-timestamp wow, why did this take so long omg. btw i felt so bad for jeno throughout this entire thing, WHY is y/n so mean TT plz dont be a silent reader and i hope u like it!!

why do you build me up then let me down?

lee jeno had been asking this question time and time again. ever since he first asked you out on a date that summer day.

contrast to his reputation today, middle school jeno was much more reserved and quiet, very shy and not having many friends. he had developed a small crush on you ever since he was seated next to you in math class. although this had it’s pros and cons, the pro being that he could see you every day, with the con being that he could never exactly pay attention in class.

although this crush had been around for ages, jeno never exactly built up the courage to act on it until the first year of high school. by now, he had gained himself a reputation of being the school pretty boy, with his infamous eye smile and being amazing out on the field, it would be a lie to say you haven’t heard of him.

when he approached you after school, stuttering and stumbling over his words, you were a bit confused, to say the least. from what you had heard, you would expect him to be an overly confident yet cocky jock who had a new little toy every other day yet here he was, struggling to even say a sentence.

“just spit it out, jeno,” you shrugged nonchalantly, tapping your foot impatiently. your friend, gahyeon and you had plans at her house later today and you didn’t want to be late. “i don’t have all day.”

jeno took a deep breath in, exhaling out before pausing. “will you go on a date with me?” he expected a cold and harsh “no.”, scrunching his face as he braced himself for icy hard rejection.

“sure,” ‘wait what’ the boy opened his eyes, relaxing himself to the response, “i mean, why not? what’s the worst that could happen.”

his face slowly contorted into a smile, his eyes turning into small crescents as he resisted jumping up and down from excitement. “r-really? cool, uh is tomorrow, 6 pm, good?”

“sure, we can meet at the cafe near school?” jeno nodded ecstatically as your phone rang abruptly, you gave jeno a small but empty smile as you turned your back on him. you didn’t see it, but jeno began to pump his fist into the air excitedly.

the next day had come earlier than jeno expected, but the school day went just as slow. seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours. throughout the day, the boy was anticipating his date, his first one in a while, actually. contrary to what many people say and talk about behind his back, jeno was never really one to go on dates, always politely declining the offers he was given.

jeno sat in maths class, his eyes darting over to the clock every second as the loud ticks filled his mind, cancelling out his teacher’s words. the final seconds ticked in as the third hand on the clock got closer and closer to the second hand.

finally, a shrill ringing echoed throughout the halls and classrooms. students quickly jumped from their seats, bolting out the door to escape the classroom as quick as possible. 

as jeno ran out, he began to look through the stampede of students, his eyes darting everywhere for you. there you were, in the middle of a conversation with gahyeon. he nervously approached you two.

“uh, h-hi!” he smiled, his eyes folding into crescents. you turned your head towards the boy, “oh hi jeno, what is it?”

“about our uh,” jeno cleared his throat awkwardly, “our date, it’s still on, right?” he asked, uncertain.

although you’re untrue,

“yeah of course! i haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.” the boy breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded, “okay! i’ll see you there!”

i’m attracted to you all the more.

almost an hour had passed. you weren’t there. jeno half-heartedly smiled at the waiter as the latter handed him his coffee. “uh- are you waiting for someone, sir?” the waiter asked awkwardly, pointing to the other seat.

why do you build me up, buttercup?

“yeah but i’m not sure if they’re coming.” the waiter gave a sympathetic smile to the boy, when the former headed back to the kitchen, jeno stiffly pulled out his phone, pressing a couple buttons as it began to dial a number.

baby, just to let me down?

“what is it, jeno?”

“i think they stood me up, jaemin.”

the next day, jeno decided to confront you about it. “oh i’m so sorry! i was going to go but then things happened, the car broke down and yeah.” you lied, in all honesty, you had just forgotten about the date but jeno was a sweetheart and you didn’t want to say the truth.

“it’s fine! it happens, would you be okay with rescheduling?” you perked up, you had stood up many people in your time but never did anyone try rescheduling. with a shrug, you replied, “sure.”

jeno lit up, “would my house tomorrow, at 5 be fine?” tomorrow was a weekend so he doubted there would be any problems. “yeah, of course.”

i run to the door,

an hour and a half went by, it was around 6:37 pm now and there was no sight of you there. jeno pursed his lips, before the doorbell rang. he perked up at the sound, bolting to the door. but as he opened it, instead of you being there, there was only the pizza delivery man.

i can’t take it anymore, it’s not you,

jeno’s smile fell as he sighed, he took the pizza from the man and gave him some money before slamming the door shut. “did something happen again?” he wondered out loud, falling back on the couch as he opened the box.

you let me down again.

parts of the pizza had slid to the left side, causing it to look deformed and sad. with a small sigh, jeno took a slice, taking a bite as he chewed on it emotionlessly.

the months went by like this, jeno would ask you out on yet another date and you’d agree. he’d get all ready then wait for you but you wouldn’t show up. then you’d make up some bullshit excuse. 

“sorry, my dog died and my sister got really sad so i had to comfort her.

“sorry, i lost my way and my phone battery had ran out.”

“sorry, i was really behind on some assignments and had to do them quickly, or else mr. yang would have failed me and i don’t want to disappoint my parents.”

jeno was understanding and he was always willing to try again. he was starting to get suspicious though, he was a little tired of getting stood up. this has happened way too many times for it to just be a coincidence.

many wondered why jeno was still so resilient with you, why he didn’t give up and why he didn’t ever get fed up with it. truth is, he is. but he loves you, and will keep trying however long it takes.

why do you build me up, buttercup?

today, you two had plans at 8, to head over to a small restaurant nearby. jeno had come early, as usual and was on his phone, waiting patiently.

baby, just to let me down.

time passed, the other customers left as new ones arrived but jeno was still there. jeno got nervous as he sighed, he couldn’t even keep count of how many times you had stood him up, for the number would be too high.

he had called you time and time again yet it always went straight to voicemail. “hey kid, the restaurant’s closing.” a staff member approached him, jeno apologised, taking his belongings and paying for the bill.

and mess me around,

as the boy walked outside, he felt a small cold droplet land on his head. then another one and another. before he knew it, the rain was pelting at him, he let out small shivers as the coldness engulfed him.

and then worst of all, you never call baby, when you say you will.

he tried again, dialing your number but once again, voicemail. he wanted to get angry, his patience level was dropping but he couldn’t. after all, you’re not his and you never will be.

but i love you, still.

[kat-katsuki]

Fast and Slow | Hawks x Reader

Fluff!

Word Count: 1.3k

All the pictures of you and Hawks shared were just blurry after images. The two of you were known as the fastest duo in Japan. Whenever someone mentioned Hawks, they would always talk about you, his only sidekick, as well. Hawks doesn't like sidekicks – rather, he had no use for them. Throughout his hero career he hired and fired multiple sidekicks because none of them could keep up with his speed.

Then you appeared. It was a hot summer day, and all Hawks wanted to do was to hurry up and catch the villain and finish the day off with some ice cream. The villain was fast, he had to admit, but Hawks knew he was faster. He smirked as he glanced back at the heroes who couldn’t keep up. That was when suddenly, something flashed before his eyes.

His eyes widened when he saw the villain spazzing on the ground while you stepped on him with one foot, keeping him against the pavement. He saw sparks of blue electricity flash around you, and he swore for a second your face deformed into a streak of lightning.

"Did you….do that?" he asked. You nodded at him. He couldn’t help but notice how breathtakingly beautiful your eyes were. Your big, round, innocent eyes reminded him of a toddler, and with your blank emotionless expression, he found you adorable. He knew then and there that he had to have you as his sidekick.

You were still a high school third year, interning for another hero during that time, but he quickly offered you a position as his sidekick once you graduate. There was no way you’d turn down the number three hero. Even though you didn’t show it on your face, you were ecstatic.

After graduation, you immediately became his sidekick. Hawks had to admit, you didn’t disappoint as a sidekick. You were lightning itself, whether it was chasing villains or reacting to attacks, you never missed a split second.

However, outside of hero work, you were excruciatingly slow.

"Hey Dove, nice work," he told you when the two of you finished capturing a burglar.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawks." You bowed politely. You weren’t a very expressive person, he learned, and you’re almost always wearing that blank, dazed, almost clueless expression on your face.

"Mr. Hawks?! That makes me sound old, I’m only 22! Just call me Hawks. Puts less of a distance between us," he said as he walked up to you with a grin on his face, physically decreasing the distance between the two of you.

Your brows furrowed lightly as you gave his words some thought. Putting age aside, he technically is your boss. It would be rude to address him without honorifics, but since he insisted, "Okay Hawks."

The corners of his lips tugged upward when his name rolled off your tongue. Your voice was just as enchanting as your eyes. He tilted your chin upward with his index finger, and leaned his face close to yours, eyes half lidded seductively as he tried to lower his tone, and whispered, "Now Dove, why don’t we go back, relax on the couch, watch a movie and eat some chicken to reward ourselves for our…fine work today." Boy does he think he sounded sexy.

"But it’s barely 3 pm," you stated matter-of-factly. "We don’t get off duty until 7."

As your boss, he didn’t hate that part of you, but as a man trying to court you, he really wished you took a hint. From the compliments and the flirty pet names to the lunch and dinner dates, none of them seemed to be getting to you. He honestly started to question what exactly was going through that cute little brain of yours, or if anything went through at all.

In the end, he decided that he should give up on the hints and just ask you out in a straightforward approach. "Goodbye Hawks, have a nice day." It was past 7, and you were going to leave to go home. That was when Hawks pinned you to the wall, preventing you from getting out of the agency. "Hawks?"

"Songbird, will you go out with me?" he asked. He would change up the pet names every day, today was Songbird.

"Go out? Where? To KFC or to Chickenman?" You listed his two places he took you the most often to get chicken.

Hawks slammed his head into the wall beside your face while letting out a loud groan of defeat. As his body pressed against yours, a wave of heat started rushing to your cheeks. To say you didn’t find the bird man attractive would be a total lie, but you naturally had the tendency to take everything literally, and the idea that this handsome, successful young man would be in any way interested in you was absolutely appalling, to the point you never even considered it.

Hawks chuckled softly as he tilted his head and directed his lips to your ears. You could feel his hot breath tickling the inside of your ears and you winced a little at the strange sensation. "Songbird, sometimes I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose or if you really are that slow," he whispered.

"Um, sir, I whatever I did wrong, I swear it wasn’t on purpose," you apologized as the blush on your face deepened. Hawks’ eyes widened. You were weak against physical contact. Before, he’d get a little bit touchy here and there, but he always made sure he gave you enough personal space. Now, he was practically pressed against you, sandwiching you between his chest and the wall.

Finally getting an expression that’s not a blank stare out of your face, Hawks’ lips curled upward victoriously. He took your hand in his, and interlocked your fingers with his. His golden orbs were locked onto your face, taking in your every movement, from the redness of your cheeks, to the way your eyes darted around, and the way you bit your bottom lip. Oh god, he was having too much fun with this.

"Songbird, you can’t be that clueless. Surely you understand what I mean now," he whispered softly in your ear.

"I-….I uh…" Yes, you finally understood. All the subtle hints and the flirty comments now seemed to click. You felt like someone had put your heart on a train; you could practically hear it slamming against the walls of your chest.

Hawks tilted your chin up. This time he made sure to stick his face so close to you that you could feel him breathing over your lips. "So what do you say? Still thinking about KFC?"

"N-….No…." Your voice cracked as you cowered under him.

"No as in you won’t go out with me or no as in you stopped thinking about chicken?" he chuckled.

"I….I uh… I stopped thinking about chicken."

"So you’ll go out with me?"

"That’s not-" That’s not what you meant, but at this point you honestly don’t want to say no. "I mean….. Yes… I will…"

Hawks finally closed the gap between the two of you. He cupped your cheek with one hand while the other stayed intertwined with yours. You closed your eyes as he gently massaged your lips with his.

KACHAK!

The two of you turn your heads to see a man scurry out of the bushes outside the window. Paparazzi. They had been waiting for something like this. In an instant the two of you were out the door. A blue streak passed by the paparazzi, and next thing he knew you were in front of him. He turned around to see Hawks hovering right before him. You took the camera out of his hand and confiscated the SD card. "Nice work Songbird," Hawks winked.

"Thank you Hawks," this time, you wore a subtle smile, and your cheeks dusted in pink.

Later you and Hawks loaded the pictures from the SD card onto his computer, and for the first time, there was a photo of the two of you that wasn't blurry.  

[stab-the-son-of-a]

And We’re Live

“This ought to be fun.”

The man, the being, the figure, doesn’t introduce himself, of course not. He needs no introductions, not because he’s notable or particularly renowned, but because he refuses to. You may call him the announcer, capital and article optional, as that’s what he is, and all he will be. 

The Announcer adjusts the display on the screen for the optimal viewing experience. On it is a dim, possibly damp even, basement, with a small crowd of people huddled inside. Three is company, but four is a crowd, and this collection of people is certainly a crowd crammed inside. 

Three men, one woman, but only one of the men stands. He’s one of the only ones who can, as one man is clearly too weak to, and the other, the older man, has a broken leg. The woman could stand, but her faint wavering even while sitting down belies the fact her balance is not yet restored from the head injury that left a streak of blood dried in her hair.

“You recognize these, don’t you?” The Announcer asks. He asks you, in fact. You can’t recall the color of his eyes, the tone of his skin, or anything, though you can recognize his attentions on you even through the screen. “Yes. You. It’s been some time since you’ve last seen or heard from them, but I’m sure you remember.” 

The Announcer smiles. It appears, a flash of expression, but you can’t remember the emotion behind it or recognize any other feature of his before he fades away in your mind again to nothing more than a vehicle of your entertainment. He knows this. He is not the star. Your gaze slips back toward the more interesting people. Thom nods off, cradled against Dale’s side opposite to Jaden, and Summer is half hidden behind Dale’s bulk. Half, because her focus, even as fuzzy as the concussion leaves her, never wavers from Jaden. Focus, and wariness.

“When last you saw the unfortunate guests of the Pierce couple, they were not enjoying their stay. I’d wager they enjoy it less and less as the days pass. How long?” The Announcer laughs. It’s as unremarkable, and unmemorable as the rest of him. He answers his own question. “Long enough, let us say. Such trivial matters don’t lessen your enjoyment of the main event, does it?”

You feel like maybe the announcer winks, inviting you in on some inside joke or exclusive club.

On the screen, Jaden Pierce towers over a floor-bound Dale Gibson, an ugly smirk on his features, and dangles a water bottle in front of them. 

The Announcer speaks a final time. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your show, my whump aficionados.”

Jaden slowly uncaps the bottle, the seal crackling being the loudest thing in the room. Preening under the cumulative weight of his captives’ stares, he asks, “Aw did you guys want any? There’s only one bottle and really it’s like, unsanitary as hell and super nasty to share so. Take your pick, babes, which of you is desperate enough to earn it?”

“Go to hell you bastard,” Summer croaks. Clearing her throat, she glares, as if that would cow him. Instead, it seems to encourage him, a smirk growing on his face.

Jaden rolls his eyes at the display. “Ooooh I’m so scared.”

“Please. You can’t mess with this like you have our food,” Dale reasons. “We can’t last as long without water. I’ll- I won’t eat. Just please, they need water.”

“Pretty sure you’re showing every sign of dehydration too, so why aren’t you arguing for more water for all of you?” Jaden shifts the bottle to hold it in the crook of his arm before he crouches down and cups Dale’s chin, forcing their gazes to meet. “Oh that didn’t occur to you, did it? Look at those eyes. Anyone ever tell you that you got eyes that tell a story?”

Dale doesn’t justify that with a response, setting his jaw and silently returning Jaden’s curious stare with a furious glower. 

“Get your disgusting hands off him,” Summer snarls. Jaden’s attention flickers to her, and Dale immediately moves to reach out for Jaden’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing their gazes together once more. Or at least, it did, but surprise has Jaden jerking back from the contact, eyes wide and jaw clenched. Unsure of what to do with his hand, or if his impulsive action just ruined any hope of good will from their captor, Dale slowly withdraws his hand back to cover Summer from Jaden’s potential retribution. 

After a few more tense moments, he seems to find whatever he was looking for, or come to some sort of decision.

“Jesus H Christ but you’re boring these days,” Jaden grumbles half-heartedly, but he does shove Dale back. The older man tips, just barely catching himself from dragging an semi-conscious Thom to the floor with him. Noticing the fact Thom barely reacted to the motion, the young man stands back up and takes a few curious steps to the side, an odd expression on his face as he studies his collection from a new angle, and especially the branded man. “So… Uh. What’s up with Thommy boy? He seems a little... not poggers.”

“You branded him,” Dale points out evenly, forcing his panic down. “He needs proper medical attention.” 

“Well, yeah, he got branded sure, but Sunshine there looks right as rain after her little Jack and Jill impression down the stairs, and she didn’t even need anything. So why hasn’t he gotten over it yet?”

“He’s starving,” Dale explains, right as Summer snarls, “Are you really that dumb?”

That’s the perfectly wrong thing to say, as Jaden flips- his eyes dark and hateful, lips twisted into a sneer, focus entirely on her now. Dale flinches back on instinct, free arm extending to block Jaden’s path to Summer. Dale knows, Summer knows, Jaden knows, that it won’t do anything concrete to stop him, but the younger man still does not advance.

Silence descends on the room, heavy and oppressive like the midday heat leaching into the basement.

Though Dale pushes her back, bodily places himself between Jaden and his two charges, Summer continues. “How could you be this... stupid? I can see your report card now. ‘Dear Mr. and Mrs. Moron, look into McDonald’s applications’.”

Emboldened by the silence, and undeterred by the way Dale whispers for her to stop, Summer adds, “Now I know we’re going to go free. You’re going to forget something so fucking simple and get yourself in trouble. And the whole world will forget all about you, you miserable mistake of a human being.”

At the almost petulant look on Jaden’s face, Summer bursts into short, sharp laughter. “I can’t be the first to point out you’re a failure! You’re going to ruin your worthless life-”

“Be quiet,” Jaden orders. Growls. His grip on the water bottle has the plastic bloating and deforming, the flimsy packaging crinkling. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you. Do not test me.”

“You’re too incompentent to make me do anything, idiot,” Summer fires back.

“Fucking BITCH!” His shriek ends with an abrupt and solid crack.

Dale hurries to gather Summer in his arms, to check her neck and her head. A heavy, purple bruise blooms on her face and jaw even as the swelling shuts her eye. “Come on, Summer, come on,” he whispers, “just open your eyes and look at me.”

Thankfully, despite the lurid color, she is only a little unsteady and dazed and forces her clumsy arms to prop herself up properly. Swallowing a furious sob, Summer screams at Jaden’s retreating back, “You’re fucking pathetic!”

-

Three hours later, Lab Coat Lady entered the basement, flanked by Jaden bearing that damned pistol. When Dale tried to get his attention, Jaden silently raised the gun to the center of the older man’s forehead. Only when Dale slumped and allowed the woman in pink access to Thom, even as his heartbeat climbed ever faster and higher in his throat, did Jaden lower his threat. 

Sluggish and flushed with fever, Thom struggled to cooperate as the woman ordered, except for her last demand- to remain still- as she readied to pour a faint yellow liquid down his throat. She glanced up at Dale, then Summer. Quietly, she offered little explanation (“Hydrocodone”) before tipping it back, and, when Thom realized what had hit the back of his throat, she expertly covered his mouth and nose and held his jaw shut. 

Dale watched it all, feeling like Judas.

Only after his motions slowed and his eyelids drooped did the woman in pink release her hold enough to settle him onto his back. 

From there, she debrided his burn, slathered a generous amount of antiseptic cream, and bandaged the wound with a silvery material, all under Dale’s watchful eye. 

The woman approached Summer next- and again, as soon as either she or Dale moved, Jaden leveled the gun at Thom’s head. Both captives froze, a single, too long moment of realization that despite this effort, he might still decide to blast a bullet into Thom’s skull; blissfully unaware, Thom dozed in a drugged haze. 

He kept the gun trained on Thom the whole time the lab coat lady attended to Summer’s head injury, cleaning out blood from the wound and her hair. Summer, even if only for a moment, leaned into the rhythmic sensation of fingers gently carding through the freshly detangled locks. After that was settled, the pink coated woman checked her pupils and eye tracking, and apparently gave her a clean enough bill of health. Her carving on her lower stomach received the same treatment Thom’s branding had. 

The silence began to itch, like a week without a shower, and Dale clenched his fists as best as his broken wrists allowed. He just wished someone would speak and explain this abrupt change. Was it because of what Summer said? Had they gotten through to him somehow?

Dale stared at Jaden, expecting him to say something, make some sort of joke or verbalize his threat or name what they owed for this kindness. Jaden acted like Dale didn’t exist at all. It was unnerving, the same way it was unnerving to see teachers outside school hours, or parents when they were children- someone with a previous persona acting entirely differently from what one could expect of them. Unexpected was never a good sign when it came to Jaden. 

“On your back,” Lab Coat Lady directed him, pushing him back, powerless, helpless in everyway. He couldn’t defend himself on a good day, let alone stuck supine. He couldn’t even fight back as she pushed down on his chest and drew his hands away from his body. “Cooperate. Things will go smoother.”

They did. His wrists were rebandaged, and his leg braced. That simple act alone brought tears to his eyes, both from the metal pressing against the swollen flesh, and the relief of loose bone finally finding stability. Again, he tried to find Jaden’s gaze, to lock eyes and try to understand, but the man didn’t glance in his direction at all, though he had to feel the weight of his stare. 

Wiping her hands down with sanitizer again, the pungently clean smell permeating the poorly ventilated basement, Lab Coat Lady pulled out three prescription bottles. Haphazardly, Boomer, Thom1, T2, and a sun were written on the bottle lids in sharpie. The lids themselves had timers on them, presumably counting down to the next doses. Next to emerge from the bag was four more water bottles. Just as silent as Jaden had been the whole time, the pair left the basement and latched the door behind them.

“What the hell was that?” Summer whispered after a few minutes. 

“I don’t know,” Dale admitted, struggling to sit back up, even as Summer reached over and helped him to change positions. His gaze dragged back to the locked door, and his mind to the man who had walked out. He didn’t know that man at all. He hadn’t considered that sort of behavior in Jaden’s abilities. His palms began to sweat and shake as he checked the bottles left behind. 

Thom’s was more hydrocodone and an antibiotic. The instructions were clearly detailed on the side of the bottle. The same for Summer’s, another antibiotic. Dale had been… not prescribed, but given, pain relief. Tylenol-3, codeine. The bottles were light, and almost more full of air than medicine, but they contained an unimaginably heavy question within: Why.

[multific]

Wife

General Armitage Hux x Reader

Summary: Kylo Ren and General Hux didn’t like each other. But when Kylo learned something about the General, he didn’t waste much time investigating it.

 Every person who counted in the First Order was invited to a secret planet for a very important meeting.

The Supreme Leader found it to be very important for everyone to meet and to speak on the matter of completely destroying the Republic, since it seemed like that individually all have failed.

So, every commander and general of all the ships were there to attend.

As Snoke’s apprentice, Kylo Ren, and General Hux was put as the two most important people, right after Snoke himself, they had to make sure that everyone who arrived was welcomed.

Kylo was bored and frustrated out of his mind. Hux was just as bored, but he didn’t groan every moment a ship landed. Nevertheless, Kylo sure did. So when the next ship and its occupants arrived, he was all ready for the hundredth welcoming.

“Commander Glung, and General Hvujk. Welcome to Troitih.”

“General Hux. It’s been years since we met, nice to see a familiar face.” explained the commander ignoring Kylo Ren’s welcome.

“The pleasure is mine Commander Glung.”

“How’s your wife lately?” asked the commander. This got Kylo’s attention. He didn’t know Hux was married.

“She’s doing just fine. Thank you.”

“Well, since she is a general like yourself, I assume she will be here too.” said Glung as he walked away.

“You have a wife?” asked Kylo, his helmet deforming his voice.

“I do. The Supreme Leader arranged the marriage about ten years ago.”

“Oh.” of course it was an arranged marriage. “And why isn’t she on the same ship as you?”

“Supreme Leader decided to have her move three years after we got married. She is a commander now. Commander of the ship, Black Swan. There she is.” Hux said pointing at a fully black ship.

Kylo watched a half-droid creature getting off, soon after the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She was in a very elegant dress, high heels and a long black cape followed her, the only jewellery she wore was a band ring. Kylo watched every move of the woman, he closely examined her face. In his opinion, she was too beautiful to be Hux’s wife. But he came to the conclusion that you must hate your husband.

But oh how wrong he was. Because he saw your eyes lit up with joy when you saw Hux, your lips formed a smile which he envied from the ginger general.

“Commander Hux and General Grieven. Welcome to Troitih.” said Hux after a few seconds of silence from Kylo. The man seemed to be frozen.

“Hello Armi, it’s nice to see you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Y/N.” with that, both you and your general walked away. You didn’t even look at Kylo.

A few hours have passed. All guests have arrived and Kylo was in his room, still shocked from the news he learned earlier that day.

He wanted so bad to find out who you really were. Then he realized that he should ask the only commander who was friendly with Hux besides you, Commander Glung.

It took Kylo two minutes to find him, and the commander was already tipsy when he found him in the common area. Perfect for Kylo’s plan.

Two more drinks later, the commander was speaking freely.

“You seem to know Hux.”

“Yes. The ginger and I were mere kids when we got into this, we grew up on Arkanis. I mean he is quite distinctive with his red hair, you cannot miss him. Then when he got 23, he was forced to marry, Y/N.”

“She grew up with you too?”

“Oh no. Snoke got her from somewhere. Some said he bought her, some said he rescued her. But that’s just gossip. I think he either kidnapped her or something similar. She hates Snoke. She made attempts to kill him even.”

“But why not kill her?”

“Snoke needs her. Apparently, she is force sensitive. And a really strong one at that. A maid once said she saw Y/N stop Snoke’s lightnings. But she wasn’t in full awareness of her powers at that point. So he needed something or someone to keep her under control.”

“Hux? Really? He’s weak.”

“He might be, but it was said that he needed to marry Y/N so she will stop disobeying. Snoke’s plan was to make her fall in love. And after that happened, Snoke had her in a corner.”

Kylo didn’t understand that and the much drunker man answered to his confusion.

“Since she’s in love with Hux, she doesn’t want him to get harmed. So, she’ll do as she’s told if she doesn’t want her husband to get hurt. And it clearly works since she hadn’t been doing any of her shenanigans ever since.”

“Oh.”

Now it was all clear to Kylo. Snoke must have wanted you to be his apprentice but you disobeyed. Even the fact that you were a force user wasn’t really a shock to Kylo he sensed something the moment you got off your ship and why else would the Supreme Leader need you?

In the meantime, you were in your assigned room, waiting for Armitage to arrive. You told him that you needed to see him due to an urgent matter.

And soon, your lover arrived.

“Why did you call for me?” he asked, with his emotionless face.

“I just wanted to see you.” you said as you went to hug him. He hugged back. “I haven’t seen you in a long while, and those hologram calls don’t count.”

“I missed you too.” he finally admitted as he pulled you closer. His voice was so quiet, you barely heard him.

You pulled back from the hug but didn’t waste time and immediately started a make out session with him.

You two were like heated dogs. You shredded the clothes off of him, and he did the same.

You missed him so much, you missed being touched by him, kissed by him and you missed him making love to you.

So, he spent the whole evening with you. But you didn’t sleep much.

Armitage got up first when morning arrived. Collecting his clothes and getting ready for the meetings.

“Darling, you should wake up, the meetings soon start.” he said but you only groaned, turned around and went right back to sleep.

While Armitage got ready he noticed his own clothes in your room. The two of you were given separate ones, but he figured you made them to be moved.

He went along with his day.

Soon arrived to the meeting room, which was rather huge to fit all the attendees in. Armitage saw Kylo Ren walking in.

“General. How was your night with your wife?”

“None of your business.” was all the General’s answer.

Soon the first meeting began. But you were late. The Supreme Leader was in the middle of his big speech about plans when you barged in. Looking flawless, you obviously didn’t care as you sat down. There was awkward silence. Everyone expected Snoke to get angry and punish you, but after a few more minutes passed, he just continued.

Everyone was shocked but no one mentioned it.

The day went on and the meeting came to a break. During the break you and your husband chatted a little while the others either sat in silence or also talked. Kylo seemed to be a very popular but only because you sent everyone away or completely ignored them.

It was also obvious that your General wasn’t a social person. He was only sitting there beside you looking out of his head.

In the meantime you were making plans with your husband. Trying to convince him into taking a day off to visit you or to meet on a planet.

Armitage excused himself and left you at the table. You continued drinking your water while waiting for your husband to arrive back.

While you were waiting for him, you watched as Kylo Ren took the seat right in front of you. You knew that he had the force like you, but you also knew that he was much weaker than you. And you didn’t like speaking to weak people. You felt his intent to talk with you, but you refused. You didn’t like him, you saw him as a danger to your husband and you hated that. You wanted Armitage to be safe at all costs.

Kylo Ren watched as you refused his offer and continued to sit there with a stoic expression. You only smiled when Hux arrived back.

Kylo thought of ways to use that against you, and wondered why others didn’t. But he soon realized.

A man came out of nowhere. You were about to convince Armitage about the little get away that you have planned when the unknown man started talking.

Armitage knew who the man was, at least his name. The man wanted a higher position and talked to Hux to arrange it for him. From what you heard he wanted to work on the First Order’s biggest and strongest ship or the Finalizer. And when Armitage rejected him, he flipped out. Started yelling, calling him names. Everyone was looking at the scene.

Suddenly the man stopped and started chocking. His head became red. The man suffered for a few seconds before Armitage spoke up.

“That’s enough.” he said it with such a calm and collected voice. The man stopped chocking and the droids took him away.

What Kylo found interesting is that you didn’t even move a finger. You didn’t even look at the man, yet still managed to almost kill him.

The meetings went on for the whole week. You loved that you got to spend time with Armitage. The week was too short for you two, but you managed to enjoy being around your husband. Even if you didn’t remember any of Snoke’s speeches or anything he said.

You remember when you went on a long walk in the middle of the evening. Kissed under that beautiful glowing tree. Slow danced next to the small lake and made love every single night.

You couldn’t wait until the next time you will see Armitage.

And just as you arrived, when you were about to leave, your husband and Kylo Ren were there to say goodbye to everyone.

“Commander Hux, and General Grieven, thank you very much for coming. Have a safe flight.” But you didn’t care about Kylo Ren as you pulled Armitage close one last time to leave a kiss on his lips.

“I will be waiting for you.” you said to him as you pulled away and headed back onto your ship.

Armitage could see even with Kylo’s helmet on that he wanted to make a comment, so instead he just left the scene and went back to his room to pack all of his stuff.

While he was in there, all he could think about was you. You were the first person who cared for him. Even if you were forced to marry him, you never blamed him for it. Instead you did the opposite and fell in love with the man.

Armitage couldn’t thank you enough. He fell in love with you shortly after. Your kindness, smile and power amazed him. How can someone be so gorgeous while chocking someone to death at the same time?

This week was something Armitage really cherished and will remember forever.

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH128

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 128: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XVIII)

{cw: helminthophobia}

The atmosphere was stagnant in the dark, and the night watchman’s exhaustion and confusion was truly written all over him. His deformed body was bent, seeming as though it was about to be destroyed by the weight of his soul.

The truth of the disaster of the new moon was so heavy that this Holy City, once known as the "hometown of God's brethren", had fallen into sin. No soul was left pure white or innocent.

The night watchmen were still struggling in vain for the ignorant residents - they couldn't tell the truth, which would destroy the Holy City’s last remaining peace and plunge the city into despair and sin, but if they didn't tell the truth, they couldn't persuade everyone to stay awake on the night of the new moon, and as long as one person fell asleep... the consequences would be like a hungry wolf getting into the sheepfold, and after dawn, the whole city would be a hell on earth.

Therefore, they could only choose to guard silently, make humble efforts, persist desperately, and try their best to make everyone who woke up forget this nightmare.

Qi Leren took a deep breath and the cold air entered his lungs, suppressing the discomfort in his stomach. A gloomy cold spread from his lungs throughout his whole body, making him feel like he was in a refrigerator.

Su He's cold and gentle voice sounded: "The disaster of the new moon couldn't have started suddenly without warning. Please recall, did anything special happen eight years ago?"

The night watchmen shook their heads.

"We’re also exploring the cause of the disaster in the new moon, but there’s been no evidence so far... There is only a suspicious rumor that eight years ago, the Lord's wife gave birth to a baby girl."

Qi Leren instantly got an inkling. Eight years ago, a baby girl? The blonde girl who tried to trick the memento brooch out of his hand happened to be seven or eight years old, so…

"About the baby girl, tell us about her," Ning Zhou suddenly said.

Qi Leren looked at him with puzzlement. Although the night was too deep for him to be able to see Ning Zhou's expression clearly, there seemed to be a vibrato in his usual cold tone just now. What was he worried about?

The night watchmen looked at each other. Finally, the leading night watchman said, "We’ve never seen the baby girl. This rumor came from the Lord's castle. It’s said that the Lord's wife was pregnant eight years ago. At that time, no newborn had been born for 13 years. It was even rumored here that there would be no more human beings born. If one was born, they must be a demon. Therefore, the Lord and his wife concealed this matter and only the closest servants knew of it. The maid who was ordered to take care of the child revealed it to her relatives because she was afraid. Later, the child was born on the new moon. From that day on, the whole city fell into a nightmare, and the maid disappeared with the new moon..."

"Has anyone seen this little girl in these eight years?" Qi Leren asked.

"Occasionally, some people say that they’ve dreamed of a little girl with blue eyes, long golden curly hair tied into two braids, and white roses in her hair. She looks dignified and holy, just like the portrait of the Virgin in the Vatican," said the night watchman.

Blonde hair and blue eyes, a portrait of the Virgin Mary... Qi Leren’s mind flashed to the figure of Maria in Ning Zhou’s half-field…

Ning Zhou went to the Vatican at the age of thirteen because Maria had died that year, just eight years ago.

Was this really a coincidence?

Qi Leren once again looked at Ning Zhou in the dark. Perhaps at this moment, only he understood his inner worries and fears. This field originally created by Maria to protect the Holy City had now become a hunting ground for demons, and the most terrible thing was... They couldn't be sure if Maria's dead soul had returned here, but had been polluted by demons’ energy and become evil.

If it had, it was the most ruthless mockery of fate for a pious holy nun.

"Dream..." Su He muttered to himself.

Dream? Come to think of it, everything that was happening here was related to dreams. Even the little girl would peek into his memory from dreams…

"The Witch of Nightmares? My friend and I have studied the data of the human world’s first demon invasion. At that time, the old Devil King’s most trusted witch was called the Witch of Nightmares, as she was good at manipulating dreams. If she didn’t die in the disaster 22 years ago, she must have fallen asleep then awakened eight years ago. It makes sense," Su He said slowly. "I'm afraid the cause of the disaster on the new moon is that she’s polluted this dead area created by the Holy Nun and is slowly recovering her strength until she can escape from here, or..."

Su He looked in the direction of the church grounds, eyebrows furrowed.

Dr. Lu suddenly covered his lower abdomen and said with a pale face: "My stomach hurts..."

Qi Leren, whose stomach had also been feeling uncomfortable, was also suffering from stomach pain. Cold sweat dripped down from behind and instantly soaked the clothes on his back. There was something there, as if something was rolling in his stomach!

Dr. Lu spat out a mouthful of blood. In the blood, a blue-black butterfly that had grown from a pupa was hatching from a chrysalis. The soft butterfly wings stained with blood quickly became dry in the wind, and it fluttered its wings and flew.

The Witch of Nightmares? Thinking about it, when she pretended to be Su He in the library, she had poured tea for him and Dr. Lu. At that time, they drank it without worry and the Rain-Day Clothing skill hadn’t been triggered.

Qi Leren, who had no time to dwell on it, took out the holy water Ning Zhou had given him a long time ago and drank it down. The stomach acid and blood fumes in his stomach settled slightly, but it still had him in a cold sweat. He didn’t know when Ning Zhou had rushed to him from the roof and held his shoulder to check the situation. Qi Leren handed him one third of the remaining holy water: "To Dr. Lu."

The butterfly hatched from Dr. Lu's stomach flapped its wings in the night. A childish laughter came from the butterfly and said in a sweet voice: "It's useless, even if the holy water can temporarily suppress it, you two will die in an hour because of the toxins."

Dr. Lu was in enough pain that he nearly lost consciousness. He used "Doctor’s Orders" once on himself, but his skills had no effect on this strange witch poison-medicine. Qi Leren's condition was a little better, but he was also shaking and unable to stand. If Ning Zhou hadn't been holding him, he would have already fallen down.

"Isn’t it painful? This kind of pain will get worse and worse as time goes by, until you can't even breathe. It's really pitiful. This feeling of slowly dying may be more painful than being eaten alive." The Witch of Nightmare's voice was still innocent and sweet, but her tone was full of grim malice.

The night watchman roared, "Is that you?! The one who made all this!"

The butterfly gradually changed into the outline of a little girl, and she giggled and said, "Oh, I remember you, you really are a poor worm. Whenever I see you trying your best to maintain this false peace, I can't help but want to laugh. Thanks to you, those ignorant fools have continuously sent me the power of dreams for the past eight years."

The Witch of Nightmares clapped her hands and praised the night watchman. The crisp applause made the night watchman roar and he went forward to fight with the phantom without thinking, but the witch's butterfly spread its wings and flew high above the air: "I hate places with lots of people. It seems you can endure for a while. I’ll give you the antidote in exchange for you bringing the field memento you hold to the old site of the Vatican."

"Sorry, madam, we don't believe a demon’s promises," Su He said lightly.

"I have no interest in your lives, but if you need a promise, well, I'll give you a devil's contract." The witch's butterfly flapped its wings, and the blue spots scattered from its wings and changed into a blank sheet of paper with a contract written on it.

Ning Zhou glanced at it. The contract required that the Holy Nun's field memento be exchanged for two antidotes, and the witch promised not to harm the contractor on the way to and from.

Su He turned his back to the witch and mouthed: Promise her.

"I’ll bring the memento," Ning Zhou said coldly.

"I can't agree to that. I don't want to be given something by the Holy See," the witch's voice became cold and disgusted.

"Then let me bring him," Ning Zhou said to the witch.

The witch's butterfly paused for a moment, then slowly flew to Ning Zhou and circled around him: "You remind me of someone... Okay, but this gentleman who controls the field must stay here and must not leave here until the contract is fulfilled."

"Fine," Su He said lightly.

After adding the contract amendment, the transaction was established.

Although Qi Leren's pain was so great that he’d lost the strength to speak, his brain was still awake. Everything was going according to their plan. Although the poisoning exceeded their expectations, they had planned to let the witch take one person away and then wait for her to offer to exchange hostages with the field memento. The poisoning was painful, but taking risks would make the witch let down her guard.

"Come on, follow me." The witch's butterfly flapped its wings in the night and the blue butterfly scales gave off faint fluorescence, floating like powder in the night.

Ning Zhou put Qi Leren's arm around his shoulder and led him forward.

In the heavy night, the pain beat on the body wave by wave, suffocating him from pores to bone marrow. He tried hard to stride forward, but his strength was gradually lost from the pain. He almost fell down from his legs giving out several times as Ning Zhou pulled him along.

"I can carry you," Ning Zhou's voice sounded in the dark.

Qi Leren shook his head. At this time, when he didn't even have the strength to embrace Ning Zhou's neck, he still wanted to say that he was walking. In fact, it was simply Ningzhou carrying him forward.

As he was holding him Ning Zhou paused, and the pain made this short moment become infinitely long... He hugged him against himself and strode forward.

The world was quiet with only one person's footsteps. Qi Leren trembled in the severe pain, struggling to keep breathing, and his will became fragile because of pain. Finally, he abandoned rationality and logic, leaving only pure instinct.

In the dark, memories rolled in pain, and Qi Leren remembered the cold and damp hole in the Witchcraft Sacrifice. At that time, he had just been rescued from the lake, so he was cold and in pain as he was held by Ning Zhou and carried forward step by step.

That dark road was full of his innocent sweetness and shy snickering, so warm, so gentle, and so joyful.

When the past and the present overlapped, he suddenly discovered that the mood at that time was no different from that of today.

Pain blurred his line of sight and his thinking was replaced by absurd imagination. He looked intently at the starry sea above his head, the eternal wilderness and the vast expanse. They seemed to be in a long river of time, and there was no future without the past. In only this short island of time, they were pulled by the net woven by the goddess of destiny. The two from different worlds met at that moment, were soaked by joys and sorrows, and sprouted feelings that they dared not admit.

-----

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[thefoodwiththedood]

"The Last Time I Saw My Father"

Here's the next sort of installment in my new OCs story, this time talking about where they were when a certain, very significant Galactic event took place. To see what events have led up to this story, you can also check out my other stories I've made so far: "Strategy," "Rising Phoenix," and "Good Guys". Let me know what you think of this bit!

Characters: Hatou Koros, Princess Eobea Xovrada, Oesta Varg

Setting: 19 BBY, Various

Word Count: ~2,100

The last time I saw my father, there was still a war raging beyond Iridia. But we were home, and we were happy.

My father, General Autugo Koros, had hardly seen Iridia in years; leading Emperor Stotrau’s armies kept him busy on its own, but in recent times he’d been embroiled in the various skirmishes of the Clone Wars, fighting alongside the Republic and stopping any separatists who dared attack the Zabrak worlds. I, on the other hand, had been charged with protecting Iridonia’s princess, a position I’d been granted in no small part due to my father’s friendship with the Emperor. He got me there, he later admitted, because he knew it would be safer than any battlefield; I’d protested at first, tried to assure him that I could be a great leader like him, but he assured me that I would get my chance. Someday.

Finally, however, the Clone Wars appeared to be winding down, and a Republic victory seemed imminent; during this lull in the fighting, we were able to return to Iridia, for a respite we knew would be brief. All too brief.

I remember that night well. We laughed, shared war stories, and caught up on all the time we’d lost. I remember sparring with my father and my sister in our family’s dojo, helping my mother cook dinner, watching the sun set over the mountains as we ate and drank. I remember speaking earnestly with my father, thanking him for all the opportunities he’d given me, even the ones I’d resisted taking at first. He’d told me, as he often did, that it was his duty to make his people’s—and certainly his son’s—success possible. He always saw the best in us. In me. More than anything, I wished to be even half the man he was.

In those moments, the war felt impossibly distant; my family was together, and nothing else mattered.

It was just after that, however, that my father and I were called to serve for the final time.

. . .

The last time me and my dad talked, we were fighting. Again. But this time, it was important.

My dad, the great-and-powerful chieftain of the great-and-powerful Clan Varg, sovereign ruler of Darkon III. Jehaat’e. If my dad was ever great or powerful, I’d never seen it. For as long as I’d known him, he’d been a paranoid coward, too concerned with maintaining his power and influence to ever do anything of worth with it. What mom saw in him, I’ll never know.

And the worst part? At every turn, he tried to get me to act like him. Walk this way, talk that way, act like the leader you’re destined to be—hey, dad, ever think to ask if I even want your stupid throne? ‘Course not. I’m just here to make sure the Alills don’t seize power after you’re gone, right? Long Live The Vargs, I guess!

That’s how we’d spat, back in those days. He’d chastise me for doing something, being something unconducive with his grand plans, and I’d tell him where to stick it. Rinse and repeat, time after time.

Then, we got that message, and everything changed.

. . .

I was there the day Emperor Stotrau was murdered. His final words, as far as anyone knows, were spoken to me.

Stotrau the Defender, he had been called. He had been the latest in a long line of benevolent, devoted Iridonian Emperors, a proper bearer of our ancestor Xovrada’s crown. It was his decision to protect the colonies, to send Iridonia’s finest soldiers away from home, to send me out as a diplomatic envoy. That was just how he was; he put the needs of others before his own, made it his life’s mission to protect his people.

Frankly, it was annoying at times. He was the most protective of me, of course: his treasured little princess, born frail and deformed, too pure and too weak to defend herself, let alone rule Iridonia. I knew he was only so protective because he cared about me, but even so, I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong for as long as I could remember.

Soon, whether I was ready or not, I would have my chance.

. . .

The Jedi Order had turned on the Republic. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine had just barely survived an assassination attempt, and now the Clone Army, which had once so dutifully served their generals, was being tasked with hunting down and eliminating any and all surviving Jedi.

As my family turned on our HoloNet feed, this was the news that was thrust upon us; a message from Palpatine was supposedly about to follow, but my mother turned the feed off before it could start. I remember all eyes falling on my father, who now sat in deep thought across the room. His hard gaze and furrowed brows suggested he had a firm grasp of the situation, but his shaky breath and anxiously-bouncing knee betrayed him. He was scared now, just as all of us were.

My father’s communicator rang before long, and soon after, mine did too. We overheard each other’s calls, but we had already known what was coming. He was being called back to the battlefield, to deal with a Separatist holdout in the Vardoss system. I was being called back to Iridonia, to protect the Princess and the Emperor.

Quickly, he and I packed our things, and we made ready to leave. My sister hugged my father, silently begging him to stay. My mother said a brief prayer for the two of us. We promised both of them that, no matter what happened, we would be together again.

We rode together to the spaceport, my father and I. Neither of us said a word. There was too much to say anyway, and far too little time.

. . .

I had thought my dad was a coward before, but what he pulled with the Empire was a new low.

Near as I could tell at the time, the Jedi, in a move that surprised absolutely no one, turned out to be corrupt usurpers. They tried and failed to kill the Republic’s leader, and they bungled that so hard that the Republic was now the Empire, and the Empire was now at our doorstep. The message they sent us was so sickly sweet I almost gagged. They congratulated us, told us to rejoice, that we’re now part of a safe and secure Galactic Empire—and of course, at the end they tacked on that they’d be occupying our system and mining on our islands.

For any true Darkonan warrior, and certainly a Chieftain, the next step should have been clear: we rally our people, put aside our differences, and repel these invaders together. I told my dad just that, too, and I expected that, just this once, we’d be on the same page. Instead, he told me he was going to cooperate with the Empire.

It’s almost fitting that our last fight was our worst. I tried to change his mind, tried to remind him who we were and what we should stand for. He wasn’t budging, though, and it only devolved from there. We got angry, and our words got spiteful. Venomous. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean, and a lot of things I’d been wanting to say for a while. I never knew if he meant what he said to me, and I never would.

What I did know, though, is that I couldn’t be part of what he was doing. I refused to be.

. . .

A week had passed since the Republic fell, and the Empire had risen in its place. That was how Stotrau put it; whatever this thing was that Palpatine and the Senate had wrought, it was not the Republic he had sent his troops to fight alongside during the war. Not anymore.

So naturally, he spoke out.

Mere days after the war had ended, Stotrau had stood before the whole of Zabrak space, openly denouncing Palpatine’s rule. He refused to sacrifice his people’s personal liberties in the name of security, shamed the mindless accumulation of governmental powers, raged at the massacre of the Jedi Order without fair trial or due process—everything the Galactic Empire now stood for, Stotrau had promised to stand against.

Our people cheered him on, as they always have. He was confused by this new era, as all of us were, but he had a duty to his people he was determined to carry out. For this reason, one was compelled to stand with him against the Empire.

And for this reason, I feared for his safety.

. . .

“Hatou”

I turned to face my father. He set a hand on my shoulder, giving me a more stern look than any he’d given me before. I still remember what he said, as if he’d said it yesterday. “No matter how much I turn it over in my mind, this isn’t adding up” he began. “The Jedi wouldn’t just turn on the Republic. The Separatists wouldn’t just stop fighting. Something is amiss, and I intend to find out what it is. Son,” he paused, setting his other hand on my other shoulder, giving me a gentle shake, “Stay vigilant. Don’t allow yourself to be led on or deceived, not by anyone. Dangerous times are ahead, that much I know—if our people are to come out of this in one piece, they need help. Help them. However you can”

I don’t remember what I said to him, but whatever it was made him smile, if only briefly. With a final, solemn pat on my shoulder, he turned away, and he was gone. Off to save our people, as he always did.

I would never see my father again.

. . .

“Oesta!”

Dad never could take a hint. The minute he saw me—down in our fortress’s hangar, packing my few belongings into one of our Fang Fighters—he was running towards me, shouting at me to stop, repeating more than a bit of what he’d said to me in our last fight. I was done fighting with him, though. I’d never change, and he’d never take me as I am.

Before he was halfway across the hangar floor, I’d closed and locked the cockpit. By the time he started running towards me, I’d gotten the ship in the air and pointed it towards the horizon. I was never much good at flying those things, but I knew enough to get me the hell out of there. Dad could have easily had someone shoot me down if he wanted, but for some reason, I was able to leave Darkon III without any resistance. I tried not to dwell too much on that.

It wasn’t until I left the atmosphere—my first time ever doing so—that the reality of what I was doing set in. In that moment, I realized that I was about to be more alone than I’d ever been. Even though I was leaving a place I hated, even though I knew I couldn’t go back, I found myself afraid.

It was a long time before I punched in the heading I’d decided on. Finally, I said goodbye to my home, and I never looked back.

. . .

“Eobea?”

I looked up from my plate to see his old, tired eyes fixed on me. We’d been having dinner together, at opposite ends of our large yet empty dining table. We hadn’t been talking much, and my mind had begun to wander. This, like many things, he could tell from just a glance. “You appear anxious, daughter. Distant.” he stated, pausing to cut another piece of his roast. “What’s troubling you?”

After a moment, I found my words. I told him of my fears: that his speaking out against the Empire may have put him in danger. He smiled. “Sometimes, daughter,” he explained, “a ruler must put aside their fears, lest they be too afraid to do what must be done. Too afraid to fight for their people, for their world. Palpatine may have us outnumbered and outgunned, but I promise you this: we can outmatch him with our own bravery. Have faith.”

Somehow, his sagely advice didn’t make the threat of the Empire any less salient in my mind. Still, I nodded. “Besides,” he continued, “If anything happens to me, I have made sure you will be well taken care of. You needn’t worry, Eobea”

“If anything happened to you,” I reminded him, “I would become Empress, would I not?”

His expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. “Yes. You would”

We finished our meal in silence, and he rose from his seat. “I think I’ll take a walk in the gardens” he said, looking across at me again. “Will you join me?” I smiled, and said that I would soon.

He left, and I was alone.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Probably crack and a result of staying up way too late, but how do you think an AU where Peter dated and married Naomi instead of Nora would go?

This officially goes on the list of “ships I never considered before, but now that you say it I can kinda see it.”  Peter’s clearly got a competency kink, between Eva and Nora.  Naomi deserves better than Dan.  They’re both overworked single parents who try to do what’s best for their kids, and don’t always succeed.  Peter’s good at the nurturing and hug-giving and supportive side of things, not so much at the day-to-day practicalities.  Naomi’s excellent at making sure everyone is fed and sheltered and keeping up in school, not so much at the touchy-feely stuff.  Yeah, I can see it.

Anyway:

They meet through the PTA, naturally.  Naomi’s there to stage a formal protest about the high school’s suspension of late-bus service, and Peter’s there because this is the once-a-month night out of the house that Marco keeps scheduling for him.  Naomi makes a sarcastic comment about the U.S. government’s idea of “sufficient funding”, Peter jumps in with a one-liner about science grants, and four hours later they’re still companionably trashing the NSF over their third round of bake sale brownies.  Peter makes the first move, of course.  Naomi sets the time, the venue, the curfew, the transportation, and the expectations for the night, of course.

Jake thinks this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to him in his entire life.  The more both Marco and Rachel call him to complain about their respective parents, the funnier he finds it to be.

Both Naomi and Peter are pleasantly surprised at how well their kids get along.  They were both vaguely aware that Marco and Rachel knew each other through school, but neither one is prepared for the instantaneous companionable banter the teenagers fall into the moment Peter first brings Marco over to meet Naomi.

The first four or five times Marco comes around Rachel’s house for dinner, Jordan hides under her hair and watches him in enraptured silence.  After about two months’ worth of this, Rachel drags Marco aside after an Animorphs meeting and has a stern conversation with him.

Neither of them will tell the others what they talk about, even though Ax expresses concern at the brilliant red shade both their faces have taken on and Cassie gives them a knowing smile.  Technically Tobias overhears the whole thing — the others tend to get so caught up in hawk eyes that they forget all about hawk ears — but he’s nice enough to keep his silence.

The next time Marco’s over at Rachel’s house, he lets out a seven-second belch after downing an entire can of Mountain Dew in one go.  Over the next ten minutes, he insults Jordan’s favorite boy band, picks his nose in front of everyone, claims he’s going to die alone because girls are gross, and (to Rachel’s quiet shock) too-casually acknowledges his raging crush on Brad Pitt.

Anyway, it works like a charm.  Jordan gets over her crush pretty quick after that.

“You didn’t have to go quite that hard in the paint, you know,” Rachel says to Marco much later.  “Pretending to like Brad Pitt, I mean.”

Marco is lying on her bed, looking through one of her back issues of CosmoGirl with the air of a forensic anthropologist picking apart the dismembered remains of a human sacrifice.  “What?” he says, back in that too-casual tone.  “I can appreciate a good pair of lips, no matter what type of human being they grow upon.”

Rachel spins around, looking away from the mirror where she was fixing her hair.  Marco is now staring at the magazine as if trying to detect a coded message between two lines of the spread comparing different brands of eyeliner.

“No matter what type?” she asks.

Marco lifts his chin.  He doesn’t back down, and he doesn’t laugh.  There’s a defiant set to his smirk, and the careful confidence in his expression is betrayed by the slight trembling of his fingers clenched around the Cosmo.

Their parents are engaged, that’s all.  And it’s not something he’s ever told anyone... but he also thinks it’s maybe the sort of thing that one tells one’s siblings.

“So you do agree with me and Cassie about Jeremy Jason McCole!” Rachel says triumphantly.

Marco gags so hard he risks straining his own throat muscles.  “I have taste!  You, clearly, have none.”

If Jordan still has any romantic interest in Marco at all even after the you’re going to be step-siblings news broke, it disappears the instant that Naomi announces Jordan and Sara are going to be sharing a room from now on, because Marco and Peter are moving in with them.  A week later, Jake’s mother has a stern conversation with him about the extent to which he’s been running up their phone bill.  He grumbles that he didn’t ask to be everyone’s agony aunt, but that doesn’t get him out of being grounded.

Marco teases Rachel endlessly when he figures out why she leaves her window open every night, even — especially — when it’s cold or rainy outside.  But he also helps cover for her and Tobias without being asked, and one night in gorilla morph he deforms the oak tree out in the back yard so that a sheltered branch rests directly underneath her windowsill.

Rachel stops in the door of Marco’s room the day after the confrontation with Visser One outside the fake hork-bajir valley.  She doesn’t bother to knock.  He didn’t bother to shut the door.

Marco’s sitting in the narrow space between his bed and the wall, staring at the blank blue paint in front of his face.  His knees are drawn up to his chest, his hands limp at his sides.

“They didn’t find a body,” Rachel says, blunt as ever, standing over him.  “I know that’s not good news or anything.  But I also figured you had a right to know.  There’s no sign of Vis—  Of her body.”

Marco squeezes his eyes shut, hard, but still can’t stop the tears.  “Shit.”  He lets his head fall back against the bedspread.  “Shit.”

Hesitating only a second, Rachel scoots in next to him.  She doesn’t try for a hug or anything stupid like that, but she sits shoulder-to-shoulder with him.  She’s the kind of person given to stillness, but she stays put as he struggles to breathe and swipes his sleeve across his face time and time again.

“It’s never going to end, is it,” Marco says at last, when he’s got enough air for words.

Rachel shrugs.  “I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“Shit,” he whispers again.  “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You wanna play Sega?” she asks.  “Not think for a while?”

Marco shakes his head violently.  “I just need some space, okay?”

“Sure.”  She stands.  “I’ll tell my mom not to expect you for dinner.”

Their parents are downstairs cooking.  Laughing.  Arguing companionably over one of Naomi’s cases.  Every clink of dishes, every fond word, feels like a spike driven under Rachel’s fingernails right now.  And if that’s how she feels...

“Anyway, I know you think I’m a crazy psycho killer, but for what it’s worth I think you made the right call.”  She says it sharply, standing to go.  Marco doesn’t respond, not that she expected him to, and she yanks his door shut when she goes.

Peter doesn’t try to be Rachel’s dad.  But he helps her with homework and shows up to her gymnastics meets and acts more excited than she is when she aces a history test.  He asks her what she wants to study in college, not whether she’s going or how they’re expected to pay for it.  He doesn’t try, and he does pretty well anyway.

The Animorphs meet in Rachel’s room almost as often as they do in Cassie’s barn.  It’s more centrally located, even if it doesn’t have nearly the selection of morphs right at hand.  Jake and Cassie both have preexisting excuses for showing up several times a week, and Tobias and Ax never bother using the front door anyway.  Marco’s also taken the time to confirm that no one in the house is a controller, so it saves everyone a little peace of mind.

Rachel wakes up screaming in the middle of the night.  No, that’s not it; she’s screaming in her sleep, and then Marco snaps the light on and wakes her.  He sets a glass of water on her nightstand.  Tilts the alarm clock so she can see the time.  Pokes her in the arm to remind her that she’s human, at least for now.  When it becomes obvious that she’s not going to talk about it, he turns and leaves without ever saying a word.

“I need you,” Marco says into the phone, middle of the night, apparently apropos of nothing.  “They took my dad.”  He gives the address, and then he hangs up.

He and Rachel have come to a decision, without discussion, without niceties like consulting Jake, by the time they’re done fighting off the half-dozen controllers who were dragging Peter toward the portable yeerk pool.  Rachel demorphs as Peter watches.  Marco goes through the explanation the first time, then the second.

Midway through the third round of attempts to convince Peter he’s not crazy, Rachel gives up.  She herds both Peter and Marco into the backseat, and drives back to the house.  “Pack for a long trip,” she tells them both, and goes upstairs to tell her mom.

Maybe, Jake concludes, exhausted just at the thought, they could’ve kept going if it was just his parents, or just Cassie’s.  But Rachel and Marco can’t both disappear without rousing too much suspicion, and getting rid of just one of them will put the yeerks on the tail of the other.  “I guess it’s time,” he says.  “Better get ready to tell our own parents, then.”

By the end of that day, Rachel’s and Marco’s blended family is in the hork-bajir valley.  By the time two days have passed, Jake’s and Cassie’s families are there too, even if Tom is currently secured with about a half-mile of duct tape and will need to be babysat by several hork-bajir for the next three days.  A week after that, Tobias shows up with Loren in tow.  One hellish mission later, and Visser One is dead, but her host is rapidly recovering.

Naomi and Eva circle each other like a pair of housecats thrust into the same room, at first.  They’re prim and aloof and wary, unable to know what to make of each other.  Peter helps exactly nothing by retreating from the conflict entirely, busying himself with an elaborate irrigation project the hork-bajir don’t actually need his help with.  But he can’t escape them forever.

One night, all three of them get roaring drunk on some kind of regrettable fermented-bark thing, and finally have it out.  Peter makes a passionate speech or two about his love for them both before retreating into morose silence.  Naomi’s sixth drink ends in her making an elaborate attempt to draw up a timeshare contract over who will keep Peter on which night.

Eva slams a hand down on the table, and they both fall silent.  She won’t share, she announces quietly, and she won’t be with a man who cannot choose.  She’ll find her own way.

Her own way, as it turns out, is even worse than Marco could have possibly imagined.

“Why?” Marco cries, flopping on the ground in the middle of the next Animorphs’ meeting.  “Why, why, why does this keep happening to me?”

“Pretty sure we’ve been over this before, back when it was your dad, and concluded it’s not about you,” Jake says.  “Anyway, the yeerks —”

“No!”  Marco sits up.  “We have more important things to talk about than yeerks.  Tobias, back me up on this!”

«Uh, yeah.»  Tobias looks over at Rachel.  «By the way, all those times you talked about how weird it was when your mom started dating again... Sorry for not being more sympathetic.  Now that I’m in your shoes...  It’s really weird.»

Rachel sniffs.  “You only met your mom like a month ago.  It’s still worse for me.”

“And it’s worst of all for me!”  Marco has flopped back over.  He emits a noise something like a wookiee being murdered.  “Please someone acknowledge that it’s worst of all for me!”

Cassie pats him on the back of the head.  “It’s worst of all for you,” she says.

“Thanks,” he says into the grass.

“Okay!”  Jake throws up his hands.  “Marco’s mom and Tobias’s mom have a thing going.  Now do we have it out of our systems?”

«Personally, I think Loren and Eva are most compatible,» Ax says.

«Nobody asked you,» Tobias snarks.  «And Jake, just imagine for a second if it was your mom who was macking on—»

“Nope!” Rachel says loudly.  “Nobody is thinking about anyone’s mom and anyone else’s mom.  Or dad.  We are ignoring it, we are pretending it’s not happening, we are carrying on as Marco and I have been for over a year now, we are killing yeerks.”

“Yeah, like I was saying.”  Jake rolls his eyes.  “There are aliens invading the planet, remember?”

“The horror,” Marco mumbles, still facedown in the grass.  “The horror!”

Cassie gives him another sympathetic pat on the back of the head.

[yunhostinyuyu]

you‘re gonna make it

pairing: boyfriend!haechan x fem reader

genre: zombie apocalype au, angst, hurt, a little fluff

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: thinking that monsters only existed in movies was a bit naive of you, but since the world is about to end you have no other choice...

warnings: monsters, blood, injuries, implied death

—

seven days. it had been seven days since the world started to end.

Only a week ago at this time, you were laying in bed with your boyfriend, cuddled into loads of blankets and your head rested on his chest. Calming whispers, tangled legs and soothing strokes against your back was everything you felt that moment which seemed to never end. Only source of sound was the TV, were a scary movie played in the background. In these times you felt true happiness - Only the two of you against the world. Little did you know that those words could have an alternate meaning soon...

In the end, that feeling didn’t last long. No more warmth and safety. Now you are both fighting for your life. Only coldness and uncertainty.

It all started so quickly, thousands and thousands of people were reported dead, and not because of war or sickness: it was because of those creatures. You are not sure on what to call them - mutations, zombies, monsters... all that was certain that they were out to kill. And they did just that without mercy. So it was safe to say that it was more than foolish to believe, that those sort of things only existed in books or movies, since this was most certainly the brutal reality everyone had to face now.

Five days ago, the apartment complex were you lived was attacked by those monsters. It seemed like a miracle that you survived, given the circumstances. Everything broke down and got destroyed, and everyone who lived in there was either killed or bitten. Haechan explained from the Informations he was able to get on the dark web, that they used to be human as well, but there was not much left that would let you confirm that fact with your own eyes. Deformed arms and legs, additional tentacles and limbs grow out of thier white and green skin shimmering in slick. Teeth everywhere you looked, some had more, others had less, but they were all dangerous, able to take your life in a second.

Since you left the apartment, you have been wandering around the area, searching for other survivors, but only finding more monsters and corpses. And that’s were you two are at now, looking deschevelled and dirty, legs and arms sore from walking and fighting monsters off with really, anything you found laying around. Haechan was looking like another person now, dark pants ripped with his legs beneath covered in scratches and bruises, his Jacket and Pullover are dirty and sprinkled in blood stains. His hair looking crazy messy and his beautiful face was also covered in dirt and mud. Backpack strapped against his back and a gun resting in the loop his belt. You yourself didn’t look any better in all honesty, but you were just glad you were both alive.

After several hours of walking, you stumbled onto a building that has not been destroyed yet, with no sign of any monsters nearby.

“Should we go in?” You ask the tanned boy, as his eyes continued to scan the area. After a while of comparing the surroundings to the wrinkled map that they had found a while ago in an abondoned building that was also run down and destroyed like everything else. You both look up the building, which had about twenty stories.

Haechan hesitates, “I’m not sure... there could be plenty of mutations inside. It could be dangerous.” You sigh, another shimmer of hope about to extinguish in your grasp, but you didn’t give up so easy. “But what if there are other surviours in there aswell? It would explain why the building is the only one intact! We have to go in and try!”

But he wasn’t as keen about going in to the giant house and tried to keep you from it. Then, like on cue, a flag arose from the top floor, being held by shaky hands out of the window. The dark red letters spelled ‘it’s safe’

“Come on, we have to go inside! The creatures would not be able to make such a sign! Haechan, let’s gooo~” a sudden wave of a relief spurring you into action, dragging your boyfriend with you. Only for him to stop and shrug you off, “Y/N, listen to me...” he pulled you back to face him as he held your hands in his rough ones. He reaches down to the gun, and gently slips it into your grasp.

“I want you to have it. You should be able to defend yourself. If something was to happen in there, and I couldn’t save you, I-... I could never forgive myself. I just can’t let anything bad happen to you.” He stuttered, but still firm enough in his pronounciation to understand the words clearly. You gently take the gun from him and put it into the back of your pants.

“I’m not scared, not when you’re with me.” You whisper and bring your hands back to his, this time without the heavy weapon. Looking up to meet his soft eyes, you just wrap your arms around him and hug him like it’s the last time. Haechan truly cared for you and loved you with his entire heart, always wanting to be by your side to make sure nobody hurt you. Before everything went downhill, it was easier for him to go after the promise he made to himself, but still not letting up on it, even if it was hard. And even if the moment you hugged him tightly, you felt safe and loved, even if one of those things was far from the reality. Thinking about the times you promised to marry each other when you were finished with your school and apprenticeships, the secrets and promises you told each other and things you expierienced and overcome together - they were so tangible in this moment, never wanting to let go of him.

After a minute, you ripped yourself together and decided to finally enter the building, taking the lead with Haechan close on your feet. The interior looking almost untouched, but there was still a lot of sand and dirt on the floor and stairs. Taking a step onto the first section you whipped and turned your heads upwards. You sigh, “better get going, those are a lot of stairs.” he joked and you fell into step with each other as you started walking up.

“Are you clean? Are you bitten?” A new voice called out from above you. “Yes!” Haechan screamed in in reply to the strangers question. “Hurry up, or the zombies are going to find you before you get up here! There’s not much time!” his tone drenched in distress and worry, it transmitted to you both and sped up your steps drastically. You were confident you were going to make it, find other survivors, figure something out. But the only goal right now was to get to that damned floor on top. Safety. Safety was there, just in your reach. You sped up even more, Haechan struggling to keep up with you.

“Y/N, slow down, I’m not that fast!” He argued, but you didn’t slow down, your tired and worn out legs somehow still carrying your at an unnatural speed.

Suddenly, something wrapped around your stomach and chest, and pulled you to the side, away from the stairs. Before you even realised what had happened, you hear a desparate cry from Haechan. The tentacles leaving you again, just to find one of the knives that he has been carrying, is now stuck in the middle of it’s head. You sit up, catching a chance of your boyfriend who was hurrying up the stairs. But there was another problem: a mutation was behind him, and according to his careless movemts, he didn’t know. Quickly grabbing the gun from behind you, you let you a bloody scream “Duck! Something is behind you!” He followed your order quick and let himself fall down the stairs with a loud thud. Half a second later, you shoot the creature three times. As it went down and falling back the stairs until it stopped moving.

Haechan pulled himself up to his feet, and you met his eyes for a brief second, before his focus shifted onto something else, and truly, you had never seen him so scared before. He let out another scream, this time louder more nerve wrecking than before. But right in that moment, it was too late.

The monster that was behind you, took the knife that attacked his head just moments prior, was now ramming its way deep into your back. Letting out a cry of pain at the stabbing feeling, losing grip of the pistol and tumbling to the ground. You heard steps from both infront of you and from further above. Haechan took the gun as soon as he reached the top of the stairway on which you were laying. Shooting the monster five, six, seven times. The sounds of gunshots, quick footsteps were accompanied by your screams and cry’s, slowly failing to composure yourself. Dark spots started to dance around the edges of your vision, before Haechan comes to a rest at your side, kneeling next to your bleeding body. The wound was so deep and fatal, that there was no way of you surviving it. You had to grew accustom to the thought, even before your dear lover did.

“No, no this can’t be happening. Y/N you have to stay with me! You can’t just die on me, come on... you’re gonna make it, you have to make it!” he cried, tears and snot running down his face as he took hold of your numb frame.

You focused and breathing and tried to ignore the throbbing, indescribable pain that is slowly but surely sucking the life out of you. His hands are on your face, shaking you slowly ro keep you awake.

As your breaths grew even more uneven, you took everything that was still left in you to say the following words:

“Make me happy... I know you can make it... don’t be weak... I love you.”

“I love you too. So much it hurts. I don’t know if I can live without you...” he sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You can, Hyuckie...” Tears left both of your eyes, and he pressed a short, last kiss to your lips, before everything went black.

He cried into your lifeless body, shaking “From where ever you are watching me from now on... I will make you proud.”

—