#this is worse than beast and I truly believe that.

[rotisseries]

been reading stormbringer and I'm no longer scared of the rest of jjk btw. jjk will not be putting me through what stormbringer is putting me through. nothing ever will in fact

[vacz]

I present to you my idea of a alternative bad ending for Wirt...

THE HUNTER

Instead of Beast!Wirt is Woodsman!wirt

After accepting the deal with the Beast, Wirt became the new lantern barer in hopes to keep Greg alive. He took the job to cut down the ellewoods and make them oil to feed the lantern so Greg's soul would never turn off, exactly what the woodsman used to do with his daughter. But as different from the woodsman, Wirt does know where the ellewoods truly came from, so the Beast has decided to take advantage of it and included him a little bit more into his chase for new victims. Now having Wirt helping the Beast to guide lost souls to the wrong path, it has become so much easier for the Beast to trap new souls

Wirt's role was this for a time: Becoming the new woodsman and finding lost kids to give them wrong directions or ideas. Despise how much he refused in the beginning, soon the Beast made him understand that this was the price for his mistakes, unless he wanted to Greg pay the price instead...

Until one night, Wirt had to confront a travel soul. A boy like him, wanting to save his little brother from the cruel breaches of the tree growing on his helpless body, and finally leave the woods with him, like Wirt himself once did. However, the Beast pressured and demanded him to take action himself, but unlike the old woodsman, Wirt did cut the boy down.

And since that incident, Wirt now has a new task to commit every time a new soul enters into the unknown.

He could barely sleep at night before, now he can't sleep at all. Wirt has stopped taking care of himself, at least he washes his hair and clothes once in a time but time itself seems so uselessly long for him until the point that things don't seem to matter anymore, nothing matters for Wirt, not even himself and his feelings... except keeping the lantern lit

The Beast knows better than anyone that Wirt's mind has become so weak until the point that he can't even survive by himself. He had succeeded in destroying this boy whole identity, only leaving a white paper to work on, so now he tries mold Wirt according his own twisted needs. Ironically, thanks to the Beast's influence, Wirt remembers the reason why he has to keep going with this but also he slowly starts to see people in a similar way that the beast's twisted perception does; trees to feed the lantern, not ready to burn yet but they must be prepared.

It's not surprising how much he has given up to the Beast. But unlike him, Wirt doesn't like to "play" or manipulate their victims, because he doesn't want to know them at all. Wirt already knows how these people will end, and he doesn't want to feel worse than he feels now, so he mostly tries to make his interactions shorter or cut them down directly, the quicker the easier it is for him to adopt this 'human dissociation' mentally

Of course, when he chooses violence, people tend to run rather than do what he plead, so he has to chase after them. Running after someone is exhausting for Wirt because he isn't that athletic in that aspect, and it's frustrating when he can't reach them. There are times when they manage to escape and some others that they don't

Wirt hates running after them, because it makes the situation more torturous and he gets exhausted. But if they don't start running, he is the one who tells them to do so. He doesn't understand very well why he does this but he likes to think that is a way to give them a chance to escape so he doesn't have to be the one to end with them, after all Wirt wants to believe that he is not evil

And yet, at the same time Wirt finds some kind of satisfaction on it... He is scared of what he is becoming.

Of course, he has this little duality inside his brain. The Beast has done a good job to keep Wirt in his role but still that doesn't make Wirt's guilt disappear at all

At least, his guilt has been manifested into a voice, represented by the rock fact. Even if the rock fact was meant for Greg to make silly but un-true facts, Wirt's interpretation of his own rock facts are the cruelest truths he refuses to believe. The rock fact represents that honest and logical part of him that is still there, under the tone of the self hate Wirt has grown on himself.

Of course, when he is around people for a longer period than he feels he should, Wirt stops trying to act normal and let himself to act a little... dramatic, in hopes to scare them or "prepare" himself mentally to go and chase them down with the axe

For this, he likes to use the rock fact. He always keeps it in his hair and uses it to try to re-create a rock fact like the ones Greg used to make, but instead of charming or adorable he looks insane, and he already knows that. Of course, he tries to re-create them seriously when he is alone but still fails miserably

Wirt does this in a poor intent to feel in touch with Greg, even tho they usually talk a lot with each other

Jason Funderberker has been gone for a long time by now, so the Beast is the only company Wirt has left, but most of the time he is alone.

He doesn't devout that his brother is there anymore, after all, Now Wirt can hear Greg's voice coming out of the lantern so what would be a better proof than that?. Greg is the only person left who seems to not hate him or is scared of him, the little ray of sunshine in his poor cruel life. If you tell him otherwise, Wirt won't want to believe you, even if deep down somehow, someway no matter how delusional he may be... He knows is true

Of course, I wouldn't recommend saying this because after having a nervous breakdown he will absolutely go after you with all pure rage.

Now here are some questions and its explanations:

Where does this idea come from?

Where does the name "The Hunter' come from?

What's Wirt and The Beast's relationship?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

Where does this idea come from?

It's no surprise that it comes from the idea of a bad ending for Wirt, one that is more fitting with the logic of the series. Because let's be real;

If he accepted the deal he wouldn't turn into the new beast because The Beast's motivation was to survive, he doesn't seem to want a replacement or transpass the role to anyone. In that case he would have already done it with The Woodsman.

The unknown was completely fine with the Beast gone so is not that he is THAT important for the forest to need a replacement.

Also, remember this little scene? it's from chapter 1: The Old Grist Mill. When Wirt and Greg just entered the unknown and suddenly heard the Woodsman cutting wood, before talking to him, Wirt said:

"Do you think it's some kind of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims?"

So I thought; What if in the bad ending... He became that deranged lunatic?

Where does the name "The Hunter" come from"?

In the concept:

Since there are times when Wirt's victims escape, those who survived spread the word of a maniac who is wandering around the woods, looking for new victims, and once he finds them he will chase them until he can cut them down to the bone with his axe

They named him "The Hunter"

Wirt knows about his new reputation, since the travelers call him that once he reveals his real intentions, but he isn't really aware of all the rumors and stories people of the unknown had made about him, he knows that he will not like them but at the same time he is very curious about it. Some of them are true and others are just exaggerating. But at this point, Wirt Hunter had accepted that now he is one of the particular characters of the unknown.

In technical explanation:

In Over The Garden Wall we saw that most of the characters are named by "the what" for example: The Beast and The woodsman, they had no name by their own outside of their archetype. So I thought that in Wirt's case he would have a name like that, losing his own as a representation of how he has lost his own original identity. Wirt is no longer "the worthy one" anymore because he is more lost than the woodsman ever was, and there is no chance to bring him back, so he became "The Hunter" for the unique faction that makes himself distinguish from The Woodsman: The killing

The woodsman is just a man who lives in the woods and cuts trees, it just happens that the Beast used one to keep the lantern on. However.... The Hunter is someone that hunts, the whole point of a hunter is that he chases living beings and strap them, mostly for need. That is something The Beast himself does in his own way, which makes Wirt and The Beast more similar and unionite than the previous dynamic with The Woodsman, or even I dare say they are just alike; The Creature and The Man who hunts for surviving

Also, more into Bad End Friend's territory; Every evil alternate version has their own unique name, for example the icon trio, Bipper and Ice Finn (Also officially named "The Snowman") but then we have just "Beast Wirt" and until now NOBODY has come up with an actual name that fits him. I remember that someone already suggested the name "The Hunter" for Beast Wirt but it didn't make much sense (At least to me). However, in a woodsman context I think it could work better.

What's Wirt and Beast's relationship?

In Wirt's perspective

Basically a case of Stockholm Syndrome: At first he felt more like a prisoner, The Beast was a figure who he should follow if he wants to keep Greg alive, he is more than Wirt and his power overcomes his young self. However as the time passed, Wirt realized that the Beast can also be very merciful and at the same time rightfully ruthless as his monstrous nature allows him, as he has 'shown' him acts of trust. For Wirt, The Beast is a dark but fair being, not as evil as everyone told. The Beast acts similarly like a father would do towards Wirt, but without that human openly caring love. He is strict and cold, but is for Wirt and Greg's own good

In Beast's perspective:

Wirt is nothing but an interesting experiment. The Beast has been manipulating every little detail of Wirt's surroundings, so he decides to obey him by own choice, which worked out way better than expected. He has seen Wirt changing to fit into his needs, becoming more useful and useful than last time. Anytime the Beast has thought he reached the limit, Wirt proves him wrong and finds a way to pass it and go on anyway. His determination is so fascinating to the Beast that he continues to see how far he could go

Their dynamic:

Naive teen being manipulated by his father figure to be useful for his plans or desires (but even more mess up)

Examples of this kind of dynamic are Rapunzel and Mother Gothel from Tangled (2010) or Hunter and Belos from The Owl House (2020)

Wirt has been alone for so long to the point that he holds tightly to anything that could give him a minimum sign of love, and The Beast knows that more than anyone

He has taken advantage of this, so by convincing Wirt to isolate himself and showing barely love, Hunter would listen and obey him without any doubt. It doesn't matter if The Beast is the main responsible for his situation, things have been twisted so much to that point that Wirt fully believes that this is all his fault. He must do the right thing at any cost, after all, he would do anything for the ones he loves right Gregory?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

These are the four identities Wirt adopts in the time on the unknown, like states of his sanity slowly decaying

Wirt

The anxious teen we all know and love, the guy he has been during his journey until the point where he faced the Beast face to face

The Woodsman

Wirt post-deal

At first:

He doubts that Greg may be in the lantern, and now he regrets his decision. However he doesn't know what to do now because the guilt for Greg will not leave him in peace, and so Wirt feels like he doesn't deserve to go home, he can't go back, no without Greg. So he still lives in the forest, feeding the lantern and hearing the Beast's words, however The Beast insists that Greg is indeed in the lantern, but Wirt isn't sure whether to believe him or not

Even if Wirt knows he needs the ellewood, like the woodsman, he tries to help and warns about the Beast to those who came into the unknown

The Beast warned him about helping people, but he didn't listen to him until one night. There was an incident where he almost lost Greg's light forever for the lack of ellewood. Since then, Wirt finally cooperates with the Beast

At last:

Wirt knows what he must do. He misguides those who pass through the way in forms to get enough ellewood for Greg, always making sure to keep himself distance and not get too close with them. However there are times where he can't NOT sympathize with the travelers and so he offers his genuine help

The Beast wasn't comfortable knowing that Wirt still kept helping people.

The Hunter

Wirt post-murder

At first:

After his first kill, Wirt felt so guilty that he stopped taking care of his health (He stopped eating, bathing, and stuff) and encaged himself inside the house with all the bottles of oil, fearing that he would hurt someone again

At this time Wirt started to hear the voices of Greg, the rock and the crying of the lost souls, and talk to them until he ran out of oil

When he finally went outside, his body was too weak to even walk and he fell on the grass unconsciously. At that moment the Beast thought Wirt died and so he was about to take off the lantern, but the boy's hands wouldn't stop grabbing it with all the fury. The Beast kept trying until suddenly Wirt woke up and said to him that as long as his brother needs him he would be still here. For his stupid unbreakable determination, the beast didn't see any other option but to take care of the kid

As he recovered, The Beast started to convince him of the idea of taking people as nothing but ellewoods he needs. Wirt didn't like it at first, but the Beast's kind act and the poor health state he put himself into finally made him accept the new task.

At last (actual state):

Most of the time he is alone, searching around the forest for more ellewood to feed Greg with, day and night. He doesn't fully sleep, he takes naps in the afternoon so he can be wake up all night as he wants. To eat he hunts animals, fish, rabbits and some other birds or frogs, whatever living being he finds. To entertain himself he recites poetry and sings songs that the Beast has taught him, all loud like someone would listen to him. At home he writes his poems and composes his own music, mostly for clarinet.

At times the voices are louder and other times they are quiet. If it's Greg then it would be a nice time, if it's the rock fact it's a guarantee he would be at least pissed off, and if it is the distant crying of the lost souls then paranoid it is.

When someone crosses his way, it depends on how things are going to see how things will end. When he just indicates the direction you'll better leave as soon as you can, because the longer you stay and talk to him Wirt will act weirder in hopes for you to leave him alone, otherwise, if you cross the line with your words, he probably will run out of patience and starts to prepare the axe

But it also depends on how likeable he finds you. He could not care and warned you before he attacks you as usual, he could hate you so much to the point that he attacks you with no warning, he could like you and give you five seconds of advantage, and if he likes you a little bit more he would become obsessed with you and will maintain you inside his house so the Beast will not know about your existence as long you don't go outside

The Beast

The Beast (According to the Woodsman's words) is the death of all hope. How low would you have to go so you lost your whole humanity to become the living embodiment of one of the darkness concepts in human kind?

If Wirt ever became the Beast, he should have been falling in grace until the lowest point a person could go. So in my idea of The Hunter, I like to imagine that the differences between The Beast and Wirt would slowly fade away until they are one in the same

Inside The Hunter, Wirt has not only become lost in life but he has also lost his identity, his spirit, his desires and his home. The one thing left to lose is his humanity... His soul

The only thing that separates him from The Beast, is him holding on to the last piece of humanity he has left; Greg

Day after day his sanity is drifting away, but it's because of Greg's existence that he is connected with his humanity, because his actions are meant for Greg's surviving, not his

If Wirt descends to absolute madness and forgets completely about Greg but also openly enjoys his cruelest actions, to the Unknown's eyes, he would no longer be worthy of humanity, and as a punishment he would be cursed to be the successor of the Beast

And becoming worse.

Like I have been having this idea in my mind for a while now and I wanted to share it. I hope you liked my idea and the drawings I made because it really took me a lot of time trying to finish this post because you know... Christmas and happy new year (ah yes, what a happy post to show in these lovely times, yeah!)

SO WHAT YOU THINK?

[loupy-mongoose]

Lil speech guide: Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak will be in parentheses.)

It got pretty long, so under the Bar it goes!

PREVIOUS NEXT

~~~~~~

Jamie, the Gardevoir, and the three Lindens stood locked in tense silence. Randy fought to string together an explanation that wouldn't give away too much, while also trying to gauge Akoya's stance.

Jamie was the first to break the silence. Her expression hardened, her eyes displaying a sharp fury. Well? I'm not letting you a step further until I know it's not a threat.

The pointed stick in her hand lowered to point toward the family, and her authoritative tone chilled Randy. She meant business, which didn't help ease the man's racing mind.

Akoya answered before Randy could, her voice a bit too defensive in his opinion. It's none of your business what's in our bag. It's stuff for travel! What's wrong with that?!

Jamie clearly didn't believe her for a second. Her icy eyes bore into the white haired visitor. I won't tolerate a threat at my home. Tell me what's in there, or you WILL leave. Her eyes flashed ominously. Or worse.

Feeling a wave of protectiveness, Randy shuffled to stand in front of Akoya and Lavender. He hoped they couldn't feel the surge of utter dread that coursed through his body.

Listen, Jamie. He tried to keep his voice low, level, and non-threatening. What's in that bag is very precious to us, and we can't show you out here where others might see it. If we can go somewhere private, then maybe we can work something out.

He felt the sharp jab of Akoya's disapproval from behind him. Between her and the protesting red-head in front of them, he felt his resolve being wringed out of him.

Jamie stood still, her glare unwavering. After a moment, her head lifted slightly as she addressed their Pokemon company in an strong bark. (Darren, Sheila, Percy, please hide us with your wings.)

Percy and Darren gave startled, bewildered looks, while Sheila tilted her head and chuffed questioningly. But they did as she asked, reaching out to their widest wingspans, touching tip-to-tip with each other.

The Lindens hesitantly shuffled to adjust their positions as their space shrank.

There. Jamie eyed them all closely You wanted somewhere private; this is it. If you still won't show me, you'll have to leave.

Randy and Akoya glanced nervously at each other.

What could be done?

They came to a silent agreement.

Akoya turned back to Jamie, giving her a glare that verged on desperation. We're showing you because you forced our hand. NOT because we trust you. If you try anything...

To Randy's surprise, he caught a falter in Jamie's resolve, and something changed. A new expression slipped into her demeanor, if only barely.

Curiosity.

The look on Jamie's face turned from shock to determination.

Swiftly she addressed her three winged Pokemon. (Spread the word; we need to find a little pink Mew with blue accents. It is to be brought back to these three safely and secretly.)

The three beasts nodded in sincerity and took off.

Persim poked his head of of the bag, his face etched in horror, while Momo was shrieking. Stay in there for now, Perzi. Randy's voice was shaky, but reassuring. We'll handle it. Could you please try to calm Momo down?

The orange feline nodded uncertainly and ducked back into the bag. Randy saw a green bubble form in it as he zipped it shut. Momo's screams went quiet, but he knew it was just contained by the bubble. Poor Persim...

The red-headed girl looked solemnly at the devastated family, her expression softer than any of them had seen from her yet. I'm truly sorry about that... I promise you all, this is the best place for a Pokemon like them to be lost at. There will be lots of good Pokemon looking for them, and any humans will be curious at worst. It might scare them, but nobody will hurt them.

I would've done things differently if I'd known they were in there...

Akoya gave up looking nearby for her son and took a breath. She turned to Jamie, for once without venom. Listen, Jamie, with all due respect, we'll be able to find him easier than your little... network, or whatever you have here. He's gotta be terrified! He might just keep teleporting away if strangers find him, human or Pokemon...

Jamie folded her arms with a hesitant nod. You're free to search too, if you think so. Maybe you're right, and he'll only show for you guys. But if anyone spots him, I'll hear of it, so I'd best stick with you.

Akoya gave an uncertain look and opened her mouth to speak. But, feeling her about to protest, Randy interrupted her. We can talk later. Let's go find Midas.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

New skill acquired~

And just for the fun of it, I'm uh... gonna share some of the (very) rough sketches I did for this part, because I find them hilarious.

Luna (my cat) randomly decided to leave the comfort of her cat tower to come lay on my arm. The trouble was, it was my drawing arm. So I made due. XD

[cuppajj]

How would the Ancients react to the Beast Ancients and how would the Beast Ancients react to the Ancients?

Ok so I’ve gotten a lot of asks for this, initially I was waiting to make a big post about it but to satiate everyone’s curiosities:

White Lily would pale at the grim reflection of Midnight Lily. She sees the darkness in her other, the freedom in its most toxically extreme form. The unsettling factor is that they both still adamantly hold similar values, so who knows how she came to be this way? Midnight Lily on the other hand would simply pity the other. She sees White Lily as weaker and more fragile, but understandably so. She’s yet to truly realize how she can save herself by making the world bend to her. She’ll learn soon enough.

Golden Cheese is interesting because I see her understanding Celestial Cheese and even kinda seeing through her. She’s understanding of the kingdom she lost, but at the same time wishes it were back; deep down I think they share the same sentiment. However, Golden Cheese would disagree heavily with Celestial’s actions; greed and abundance are practiced by both, but Cheese was selfless to some degree while Celestial victimizes those around her. There’s a difference between abundance and horrid gluttony.

The cacaos… I think Dark would be both disturbed and disgusted to see that he could decline the way Frigid did. Taming the Licorice Sea was an awe-inspiring feat not even he has done, but neglecting the kingdom he built with his own hands and the citizens who care for him deeply, letting them freeze underneath the ice? If only he knew what caused the Beast to become the way he is… unfortunately, Frigid wouldn’t give him any time or mind. The solitary king is so kept to himself that his thoughts of the other are also unknown.

On the surface both Berrys would respect the other for their intense desire for glory, their enthusiasm, and their adventurous spirit, but once Hollyberry learns of how she became obsessed with dragons to the point she imprisoned one of her closest friends, the horror quickly seeps in. Dragonberry wouldn’t take her seriously when she argues that what she’s doing is wrong, simply because she sees her uncorrupted self as weaker and uninspired. I think Dragonberry would be itching to fight her, so if she wants to prove that her Passion is stronger than her own Pride, be her guest. Let’s see who’s the real warrior here!

Poor, poor Pure Vanilla, faced with the utter nightmare that is Saint. A version of himself where his morals of love and peace have been amplified to such a horrific level that he views himself as a messiah, a savior who wants to exterminate every soul on Earthbread under the pretense of salvation… it’s worse than he could’ve ever imagined; and the worst part is that he knows Saint truly believes in everything he says. A soul who believes the world is too far gone to continue as it is, that there is too much irreparable suffering for anyone to live on. Pure Vanilla wishes everyone could live in peace, but not like this—not when everyone is dead. Curiously, purifying his other wouldn’t be on Saint’s mind if he sees him. There’d be an underlying curiosity, almost solemnly so, in the way he looms over him. Does he see Pure Vanilla as his weaker self, or his better self?

[running-with-kn1ves]

I have enjoyed your some of stories! You are a wonderful writer and I'd like to request a story if you don't mind.

(Kinda related to you mimic one)

Can I get a Yandere male monster that traps the reader in an endless fourth-dimension-like plane? Their they are trapped in a place (whatever you decide) with the monster that endlessly stalks them with mimic appearances or voices, gaslights, acts psychology cruel, and is generally highly manipulative. The creature loves the reader but loves in an utterly devoted alien way.

No non-con. Toxic/forced relationship but no non-con. Plus, I've also believed that any truly alien/nonhuman creature wouldn't think nor desire sex in the same way as us humans do.

I hope you consider my request and have a great day!

A/N: This was sent in a WHILE ago, but here is my interpretation!

CW: Sleep paralysis-like/mimic creachure, kidnapping (?), possessive dialogue & behavior, nightmares, etc. 

Synopsis: You wake up to something staring at you from the end of your bed.

Apparently no matter how many melatonin gummies you take, your sleep is not guaranteed to be a peaceful, long-term slumber. You too, can be awoken in a deep sweat while stuck to your mattress by an unseen shadow figure in the corner of your room. A couple nights ago it was in-between your closet doors, but something about that just wasn’t close enough, apparently.

It reached the end of your bed, black blurred fingers reaching up like the cold beneath your blankets, your ankle crushed by the grip of a frigid hand. It drew you forward, sliding you unceremoniously to the end of the bed. Your eyes were frozen, going watery as your body cramped. fear turned your skin into needles with your heart on the verge of exploding inside of you.

 Each time ‘it’ came to visit you, it was enough to paralyze you in a suffering state of fright. You thought sleep paralysis demon’s were supposed to stay in their corners, just barely touching the tips of your toes, keeping you frozen in fear from a distance. But this, it came to huff on you with damp breath, always feeling unbelievably real, even in the achy mornings. 

You were slid to the edge of the bed, silent screams unable to escape from your mouth as each leg disappeared into darkness, the rest of your body slowly following. You were being dragged into some dark, fuzzy hole of emptiness, yanked completely in by a twisting arm. It circled around your ankles entirely like shackles, turning your feet purple. 

Your wide, dilated eyes were shifted from seeing the spinning blades of your ceiling fan, to the stary black of a rippled room of infinity. The “sky,” twinkled with small dots of light, but they sparkled in a way most stars didn’t. The ground wasn’t wet, but it seemed to flow over you, like waves of blurry obsidian sea brushing against the sides of your body. 

The collective cackling of grainy, laughtrack voices in sync rang out. It was a flashbang of noise in the echoing universe, this other realm repeating sound differently than you had ever heard before. 

“So easy…. Too easy!”

You recognized the voice to be from one of the characters in the show you watched before going to bed… but you couldn’t remember, who it belonged to. It was masculine, almost game show host-esque in inflection. 

You swallowed. You felt worse, frozen in this infinity pool of unknown, trapped to the floor and completely exposed to whatever dragged you in here.

‘Wake up.’ You scrunched your eyes shut. ‘Wake up…!’ Your toes wiggled, still feeling that abyss of dark ‘water.’ ‘Please just wake up!’ 

“There’s no use, not when I have your body here stuck in limbo.” 

The face of your 10th grade “boyfriend” appeared, peering down at you with his post-braces teeth, shining like a shark. But that wasn’t him, it wasn’t even his skin. Parts of him were twisted and too fractured, blurred out as if details of what he truly looked like were manufactured to be hidden. 

The beast, it had his voice though. 

“You looked so vulnerable while sleeping, turning blissfully frightened when you saw me hiding…” He laughed with a snort, a trait your highschool 5-second ‘lover’ often let out. 

But that face was quickly peeled off by black fingers, blurry ones, those that ripped you from your bed. The dark mass left behind turned into a handsome young surgeon, one on the telenovela your friend had forced you to watch the other day. He was famous in Brazil, often for playing the devious, unexpected villain. 

You could see the smile in his eyes before he took of the surgical mask, piercing greens big and bright with cheekbones sharper than the scalpel he killed his victims with. 

You could hardly mumble between your tight lips, frozen as a gloved hand ran down your navel.

“I’ve seen what humans look like on the inside… but you make me so curious.” He spoke, slight portuguese accent snuffed by a long black tongue glazing over his full lips. “But I would never hurt my sweetly gentle creature, who couldn’t help but walk into my den… Should’ve been more careful in your dreams, my dear.” 

“Wht’re talkin’ abt…” Cold drops fell down your neck, lips sewn shut as your gaze unwavered against the demon surgeon. His soft pupils were growing large enough to consume him. 

“Our little, how do you say.. Date.”  His pearly teeth disappeared and swirled into a new face, a 2D one of your childhood cartoon crush, the one you had the pleasure of lucid dreaming a cuddle session of. He had needed your help, desperate and despairing as he was stuck behind a midnight-colored, steel door. “Only you can open it.” He ushered, muffled behind the lock as he pleaded for release. He sounded so guttural, so unlike how you remembered in the hundreds of episodes… 

But that smug, one-liner attitude and charming face that taught you love as a child came through and it praised you for such kindness. He was so flattering, your consciousness wrapped around his finger as the character of your dreams fed you sweet line after line. 

“Have you never heard of leaving unknown doors closed in the unconscious world? Or were you too dense-headed to realize some dreams are too good to be true.” Your cartoon crush spat, A clawed hand coming up to pinch your cheek. 

“Then again if you hadn’t been so brainless, we wouldn’t get to be here together. I guess I have you to thank for making you so… capturable.”

You clenched your teeth, wincing with every painful beat of your heart the closer the creature came. It morphed from your beloved character to a faceless black void, red filling where its features should be. With a ragged snap, its breathing left in chopped pieces. Out sprouted its teeth, protruding from cracks in its ink skin, splitting in its sternum and human-like arms. Along the middle of its fadingly red-black face, layers of teeth were rubbed over with individual tongues. They all seemed to speak, to breathe in rhythm as they chomped and let out guttural purrs. 

“Plsz…Let m..go..!” You gurgled out, the sensation of its black wholeness wrapping around you like a blanket fort.

From its- his? Confession, you concluded he must be the reason your body’s been stuck in a deep sweat, spasming muscles immovable besides shaking against each other. 

Tendrils made of something similar to the thick fog crashing waves over you began to wrap around your legs, leaving a thick, snail slime against your skin with each slow slither. The tips of them had a mind of their own, tentacles swirling, tickling and inching as their latter, larger midparts connected to the shadow beast hanging above you. Each new textured offspring latched and crawled up your body, dragging you closer and closer to the lower half of the beast. Its humanoid-shaped head tilted, fingers-- not tentacles, this time-- grappled at your arms stuck to your sides. Its eyes began to sprout, polka-dotting his body as an array of eyes covered his void of a face.

“You wouldn't be able to live without me… those blissful dreams with whatever handsome creature preoccupied your subconscious. I'm all of them, and they are me.” A black gooey tendril circled around your cheek, the tip wiggling to caress. “I am the prince charming you have run to, night after night, begging to be let out of that hole until you finally caved.” Faces flashed on his empty skin, ones you faintly remember from past dreams that always seemed to make your heart skip a beat. Our rendezvous kept me going all this time..So long i’ve watched you in the waking world from the shadows, wishing I could hold that pretty, unaware face.. My savior, my pet; I'm finally free to trap you for myself!”

He flashed to red again, the tendrils and hands keeping you still staying all the same, before the horrors’ face returned to a horrifying amalgamation of teeth and haunting black eyes. 

You wriggled the small bits of your body that were free from paralysis, however that only seemed to be your tongue and toes, your arms jerking only minutely despite the screams inside your head telling you to move. Wherever you were, whatever time it was, it wasn't the same as your bedroom. You were limitless, the space around you nothing but a black hole sucking up everything around it into nothing. 

You hardly recalled the dreams it mentioned, The faces only barely ringing a bell. But it was enough for him to see the familiarity flash in your eyes, a smile piercing that mouth of a face that looked as if it wanted to devour you. 

“so tender.. so soft, I forgot what it was like having a human nearby at my disposal, receiving the flush of my form and my affection.. I'm afraid I'll never have the heart to free you from my burdened presence.” it chuckled a tad, fingers from its firmly real hands gliding to your shoulders. “Well, to be honest I never intended to, the moment I entered your sweet nightmares...”

You dared to think of speaking, only to find your mouth in a crumpled frown and the air in your chest nearly gone. It felt like you were suffocating under a great weight, sweating under your pajamas as a creature-like nail came to wipe away a drop of perspiration, or a tear, from your eye. 

“Now, let's see what fun we can have here before the sun comes up.”

[andreal831]

Do you see Klaus as an unreliable narrator in TO?

1000% yes.

He's a textbook narcissist so we have to remember everything he says comes from a place of being unable to look outside himself or to empathize with others. Which makes the entire narration of TO unreliable.

One example I can think of is when Elijah and Klaus are talking about Tatia (Elijah is also an unreliable narrator because he centers everything on Klaus. In my opinion due to guilt). We hear, and in TO see, how much Elijah cares for Tatia. But not really Klaus. We hear him and Elijah say Klaus loved Tatia, however, in the scenes in TO, Klaus essentially assaults Tatia by kissing her without even being concerned if she wants him to. Even when she pulls away from him, he just moves on. This isn't the actions of someone who is in love. And then when we see Tatia and Elijah interact, there is clearly some history. They have an ongoing flirtation. Yet, when Elijah and Klaus tell the story, it essentially focuses on their brotherly bond and less on Tatia. We don't hear how devastated Elijah was from her death, but how loving Tatia nearly broke their bond apart. Even when Elijah learns he was responsible for Tatia's death, instead of allowing him to feel that pain and grieve, he has to apologize to Klaus (and also deal with Klaus murdering his own father). Klaus doesn't react the way he did when he learned of what Elijah did to Aurora because he truly didn't care about Tatia. But he continues to push the narrative to center Elijah's past love interest around himself.

We see him do the same with Stefan in TVD, to the point where a large majority of the fandom believes Stefan and Klaus were romantically invovled despite being explicitly told that Rebekah and Stefan were invovled at the time. I'm not saying yes or no to either, but pointing out how the narrative impacts the viewers.

We also see this with how little emphasis the show puts on anyone that is not directly related to Klaus. Klaus is not the sole narrator of the show, but we can safely say it revolves around him. So characters like Aya, Celeste, Gia, Emil, etc. Their flashbacks are quick and just serve to explain how they know the Mikaelsons. Whereas, Klaus' love interest in the past, Aurora, gets exposition and depth through flashbacks.

The narration is told in a way that continues to victimize Klaus and brush aside his crimes. For example, when he lets Cami into his head to "scare her" and show her what a beast he is. He could show her endless slaughters, and that's just in the past year. He could show himself sacrificing a teenage girl or killing Jenna, stabbing his siblings, killing his mother, etc. But instead he shows himself turning for the first time and his family chaining him up to suppress his werewolf side. He doesn't even show the plethora of village people he just murdered which even scared Elijah. He only shows her what will create sympathy for him. We see this throughout their "talks." Even Cami calls him out on it multiple times for phrasing the story in a way that undermines how his siblings were feeling.

Contrast this to how Elijah's story is told. We already talked about Tatia and a lot of his exes. They are either explained very quickly and then moved on without allowing him/the audience time to grieve, or he they are handled through Klaus' POV so that their death's are justified/excused. But more than that, simply how his backstory is told, or Kol for that matter, is done in a less sympathetic light than Klaus.

We don't really see Elijah feed from people or murder without cause. That is up until the show decided to introduce the Red Door. This entire storyline is used to retcon Elijah as "the worse brother." But lets be honest, they've all killed so many people, why is Elijah killing seen as worse? Because they make it scary and bloody and it scares even the main characters. Whereas Klaus' trial is made to be humorous. The audience is supposed to laugh at Klaus forcing a girl to watch her mother burn alive because she was coughing too much. Even Klaus killing main characters like Carol are made to be humorous. They make Kol seem like this unhinged killer, but Klaus is the one who goes off and kills with him. When Kol does it, it's out of control. When Klaus does it, it's funny so their lives don't matter.

We see this with how the show treats Rebekah and her suitors. Rebekah is seen as naive because she keeps falling for the wrong people who take advantage of her. But Klaus is seen as compelling when he allows Caroline to manipulate him, to the point that it gets his brother killed. Or Aurora manipulate him to the point that it gets Rebekah kidnaped. Or Genevieve manipulate him to the point it gets Hayley killed and almost Hope. But when Klaus is manipulated, it's because he cares too much and the women took advantage of him. When it happens to Rebekah, it's because she's stupid and needs Klaus to make her decisions.

We see it in how Cami's transition is told. Cami is struggling throughout Season 3 but all Klaus sees is himself. To the point that when Cami snaps at him for pushing too far, the next scene is him killing a random art critic, essentially implying that it was her fault. She shouldn't have prioritized her own emotions and snapped at a grown man because he can't be responsible for his own actions.

TO thrives on Klaus being an unreliable narrator because it allows his misdeeds to be pushed to the back of the audience's mind and his victimization brought to the front. Even how he speaks about himself is unreliable. Initially, he blames Mikael for making him a monster. But then he learns his mother made him weak and blames her. But then he later blames Elijah for what he did to Aurora a year later. And throughout the show he blames all of his siblings for "abandoning" him when we never see a moment of them attempting to abandon him. Yes, I'm sure all of these things contributed, but the main point is that at no point does he blame himself. He never once takes accountability for his actions and no one ever makes him. Elijah and Rebekah attempt to several times, and lord knows Cami tried, but they are seen as unsympathetic in those moments through Klaus' eyes.

Thanks for the ask! I answered this one so quickly because I don't think I've talked about this individually and it is so fascinating to me. Let me know if you agree or disagree <3

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!vampire x GN!Reader (HC’s)

Growing tired of a lonesome life he sets eyes on you but you can’t ever imagine yourself growing to love such a monster, he isn’t to worried believes you will come around at some point, he’s fine with waiting for a couple of centuries. For now he will just hang around and admire his first and only love; Possible Stockholm syndrome?

No one, not even you, will ever know why you were taken from your house in a beautiful but sleepy European town during dusk; but people came up with theory’s. Most agreed upon was you had been taken by the monster who’d been terrorising the village people for years now, and there was nothing they could do about it. So the case was closed, your loss mourned, then life went on thinking you were dead amongst the other random victims of the beast.

But to him you were anything but random or a victim for him to slaughter, only he knows ‘why you’. No one made it to the manor house, he resided in, alive not even him being dead himself; no one until you.

He’d kidnapped you fairly fuss-free, the only consequence was the nasty bump on the back of your head rendering you unconscious but manageable. He laid you in silks and vintage furs on a capacious bed with gold a painted frame and placed ice on your head in an attempt to soothe the ache in your skull.

You were scared into submission by the creature for the first few days - you could have mistaken it for the devil himself with red eyes that bored into your soul and sharp threatening teeth. He responded in short sentences, usually stern and held a disinterested expression that made his eyes look more menacing than he truly was. It was confusing to decipher what he wanted from you, he didn’t seem to want blood but neither to happy about your unwilling company.

“I wanted you, so I took you. Lets not complicate it”

You’d come to learn that he wasn’t unhappy with you at all that was just the sort of face he has, being isolated for uncountable years meant his emotional awareness and expressions had grown rusty to say the least. You’d learn he just liked to be in the same room as you, he didn’t toy with you or worse, he came to sit in the corner of your bed room one in a while and read or write while you busied yourself with one of the many things he gifted you (found laying around in a draw unused for many years) or slept.

In fact he let you get away with a lot like how you’d try everything from retaliating verbally or physically but he’d only respond with a scowl of disapproval or a strong grip around your wrist briefly to remind you just who he was. He knows all about the grieving process having been through it and seen people go through it over and over, so he’d let you grieve over your lost life but doesn’t appreciate when you get really rowdy; bringing you back to earth with tough-love.

...

At some point during the first year of being kidnapped you’d given into harsh-reality, noticing there was no chance of escape as he hears your every foot step, and that even if you did there would be nowhere to go. Seeing you become more obedient encouraged him to soften a bit more, to meet you in the middle, and you let him grow closer after noticing his intentions couldn’t be that bad since he had yet to hurt you or bite you.

There are still arguments, nights where it would all become to much for you and you’d blow up in a emotional rage, demanding you go home or ‘what his intentions are’ and why did it have to be you specifically. So he’d let you hit and shout until you grow tired and your throat sore, wordlessly he’d pull you into his chest where you’d be forced to stay for the next hour. Doesn’t really take anything to heart during these arguments, he knows -at most- a centuries time you will be happy and love him maybe as half as much as he loves you.

Other nights his frustrations get the best of him and he shouts back, demanding ‘you get used to it’ that your friends and family stopped looking for you long ago and he’s all you have now etc. You’d storm away to your bed and he’d sit frustrated in his chair for a while before quietly entering your room and joining you in your bed to hold you and whisper apology’s, making sure you fall into a peaceful sleep before he leaves.

Forced bonding through board and card games!

Of course he sleeps in a coffin, a luxurious one in the room next door to yours, and he wants nothing more than for you to sleep in there with him but wouldn’t bring it up until your inevitable turning where he make you a vampire just like him. You didn’t think he would let you die and leave him to wallow in heart break for the rest of eternity did you?

This man has had so much time on his hands that he’s messed around with most every hobby, most recently (almost a century) he’s taking a liking to the violin. Sometimes he plays while you sleep and no longer around to entertain him (downstairs, as far from your room to not bother you) and sometimes the muted melody wakes you up for a moment or weasels it’s way into the dream you are in. It comforts you a bit, chasing away the eerie silence followed by creaks and scratching of the old manor house that would make sleep harder to come by and even harder to keep.

[therealdeucespade]

Magical girl first years where Crowley is their magical pet thing and yuu n’ grim r his creations meant to guide them.

————————————————————————

They didn’t know how it happened. One day they were walking in the halls together, and then their names are being called by the HEADMAGE. Well, now that wasn’t good! So rushed to the Headmages office, and when they enter there’s this- this person with a veil??? And a direbeast???

Next thing they know, the headmage is some fucking- CROW THING??? Telling them about them being chosen to protect nrc and the students and blah blah blah blah blah!!! Like hell they would believe /this!/

Oh but it gets worse. The man (crow?) slaps some accessories , pressss a button (THERES A BUTTON IN THIS????) and now they’re TRANSFORMING????? The only one having fun is Ortho for whatever godforsaken reason. Nevertheless they’re dressed in fucking /DRESSES/, frilly dresses. At least they aren’t pink, focusing on a darker color scheme BUT STILL. And /NOW/ they’re saying CRINGE WORTHY PHRASES, and POSING. By the seven this can’t get more embarrassing.

As it stands epel is on his hands and knees on the floor, silently sobbing.

Deuce isn’t fairing any better , in a corner looking haunted and rocking back n forth.

Ace is leaning on the table, using it as support as he looks mortified.

Jack stands there, completely still, his ears pressed down and a colorful blush making its way to his face.

Sebek is inspecting himself, trying to figure if these DRESSES, are acceptable for fighting. But anyone can see the pink dusting his cheeks.

Ortho is the only one giggidy about this. Flying around and twirling, WHY DOES HE HAVE A WEAPON-

The boys screamed and backed away. The headmage turned back and now standing next to the mysterious boy and the cat.

“You all look splendid!! Now, introductions are in order, hm?”

He turned to look at the duo, gesturing to the terrified, embarrassed,mortified (+ one happy) boys.

“These boys will be your responsibility! Boys this is Yuu and Grim! They will help you as I cannot be here all the time! Aren’t I so gracious! Giving you a guide and back up!”

In turn, the person named yuu shook their head as if exasperated. Nonetheless, they politely bowed, never speaking. However, grim was the opposite of them. Jumping onto the desk and laughing with his paws on his hips.

“MYAHAHAHAHAH!! Bow down to grim the great! The greatest mage in all of wonderland!!! HAHAHAHA!!!”

Crowley lightly scolded grim for standing on the table as Yuu picked him up. Crowley began to speak.

“Yuu, grim, their names are; “Ace trappola, Deuce spade, Epel felmier, Jack howl, Sebek zigvolt, and Ortho shroud!! Make sure to take very good care of them!! Ah, I’ve truly outdone myself this time!”

And with that he left the office. Leaving six boys alone with the duo. Grim jumped back into the table and started to ramble again, only stopping when Yuu tapped something against his head. He swatted the hand away but spoke again, looking more bored than anything.

“Myehhh- my henchman said to just tap twice against your charms to go back to normal. We’ll explain everything later or whatever, henchman!” With another cackle the annoying little beast surrounded himself and Yuu with blue flames. When the flames died down, they were gone.

The boys, desperate to get out of these clothes (-Sebek and ortho) did as told. Tapping each of their ‘charms’(?) twice, turning back. All took a moment before heading out. Looking dazed, confused, and more.

What were they going to do now???

————————————————————————

First years charms:

Epel: an apple shaped hair clip(kept on his hair during transformations)

Ace: a magic card pin inside his vest(pinned to his hat in transformation)

Deuce: a rabbit w/ a clock jewel chain(connected to his corset in transformation.)

Jack: a bracelet with a moon charm. (Turns into a band wrapping up to his shoulder with the moon in front.)

Sebek: green bolt shaped earrings that dangle(in transformation they shift to fit around his ear while maintaining the bolt shape.)

Ortho: a necklace with a skull charm + two blue jewels.(the blue jewels turn into decorations hanging off the veil, the skull being a centerpiece)

In this yuu and grim are creations of Crowley! Both almost as old as him (not really, but grim likes to believe so). Yuu wears a veil and a ouji esq fit, grim is in a similar condition, but only wearing frills and a shirt.

For what the first years wear, all dresses, but gothic. Color scheme is black plus a darker/desaturated version of their colors!^^

Any name suggestions for their group, or code names is appreciated!!!^^

[icyblogs]

anyone still thinking about fallout? haha anyways here’s more ghoul!ghost (-‘:

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Ghost x Vaulter!Fem!Reader i’d imagine this takes some time after the events of this. but can be read by itself. (: WC: 2.6K Warnings: dark fic, noncon, mdni. Note: thinking about how ghouls canonly are sterile. this is a known fact, only slightly broken by the miracle that is Saint Monica from Fallout 3- which to this day i’m still not sure if it was some sort of gospel or not as it was from Father Clifford, but regardless. 

“Well um, well, our community is always looking for new members, we’d be happy to have you!” Brown eyes drift down at your familiar form, tilting his head as he watches your mannerisms as you flit around nervously, too polite to outwardly refuse him. His joints ache as they pop absentmindedly by his side, fingers twitching to dig into the soft flesh of your waist- to claw into your skin, aching to reinstate his claim. “And, there’s a lot of homes being built still as you can see but uh-, but I have a guest room here if you’d like to stay here. Our overseer says there might be a storm coming tonight!”  

“Is tha’ right, honey?” Simon croons- voice reverberating in the quiet evening, gloved hand coming up to rest on the top of the doorsill. He leans forwards, soaking in the way you slink backwards into the house, your eyes traveling down the expanse of his broad body. 

He was truly a bad man, made worse by this wasteland, you should be running for the hills- not offering him a place in your home. Like letting a wolf into a chicken coop; an insatiable beast that once it had the taste of you, it wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left. To tear you apart- aching to see if you tasted like how he remembered; saccharine ichor, sweet candy floss- it was enough to make his teeth grit, molars grinding together. 

His eyes drift down to your left hand, noticing the blatant lack of jewelry, jaw clicking in place. No ring, no memory- it was.. not what he had anticipated when he first approached you later that evening after the communal dinner. Maybe it was blissful thinking that when you’d notice him, your eyes would light up- and you’d run at him- into his awaiting embrace, where you belonged. With your husband.  

But, the wasteland had never been kind to him, so why would it continue to be now?

It was mocking in a way, dangling something in front of him, like a piece of meat to a starved, old, dog- one that salivated at the mere thought of it. Of you.

It really was obsolete, how could the world think of keeping the two of you apart? You didn’t belong here with this.. community. With these people. Don’t worry, he’d show you the right way of the world. No need to stay with these vaulters, filling your head about how the world now supposedly worked- this place would probably be blown up in a year or so by some fanatics- why bother staying here?

But if you insisted on playing house here just for a little while, he’d be happy to oblige for a day. Maybe two if he was feeling generous Then you’ll come back home with him in the little slice of territory he’s carved out (blood feeding the plants, bone-marrow for the fertilizer, built on a burial ground of his own creation) to spend the rest of your time together, alone. The way it should’ve been. Maybe chained to the bed so he’d know where you’d be at all the time, so you wouldn’t get lost again. 

All safe and sound.

See, Simon never believed in luck nor fate until he met you all those years ago. And it’s pretty damn hard to deny that it exists when you’re standing in front of him more than two centuries later, and he may as well consider himself the luckiest man alive. 

“I, Simon Riley take you to be my wife.” 

He finds solace with you- even if you don’t remember who he was. Even if you fight against him as he makes himself at home, all but slamming the door behind himself; mud-trodden boots tracking along the wood, smearing dirt and crimson. You don’t have your ring anymore, but that’s okay- he’ll give you a new one so you know who you belong to. Rings of teeth (chipped, missing) along the column of your throat, scarring until there’s no concept of a misunderstanding left. 

“To have and to hold from this day forwards.”

It wasn’t your fault that you’d forgotten who you were- wasn’t your fault that you didn’t immediately go searching for him when you had woken up, but it was alright. He’d teach you. Break you apart and take the pieces, building you right back up to how he remembered you. 

Eventually to a point where he didn’t have to tie your arms behind your back with a belt or stuff a rag in your mouth to muffle your cries for help. As much as he loved seeing you bound- as much as he loved hearing your noises— it would be a shame to pick through any more corpses for the bullet going through the skull of anyone trying to interrupt the reunion. 

“For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer.”

He thinks he’s in heaven, sitting between your spread legs- a bruising grip on your thigh, the other on your stomach, keeping you firmly situated on the bed. Trying his best to ignore the garbled whimper when he pulls down his bandana, watching as your eyes fill with more tears at his face, or lack thereof. Truly earning his nickname, a grim reaper looming over your bound body, licking his chapped lips as he stares unblinkingly down at you. You looked scared but.. it’s okay. Your husband‘s here now, no need to worry.

He leans down to rest against your knee, scarred cheek against soft skin, giving a chaste kiss. He goes up, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the skin up to the gusset of your underwear, trying to recall how you smelt- and he groans, providing an open mouthed kiss to the fabric. Breath warm, reverent as he peers up at you, soaking in how your cheeks looked warm, the moonlight from the outside casting an ethereal glow. 

“Poor girl been all neglected, hasn’t she?” He grumbles- giving the fabric another chaste kiss as he peels it off your skin and watches as you writhe beneath him, like a mouse caught by a viper, struggling so much that it only causes his hold on you that much tighter. Fingertips absentmindedly petting against your stomach, making their way up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples to stiff peaks. He was languid with it, like he had all the time in the world. Now, he supposed he did. Slowly, softly- treating you as if you were glass. As if one wrong move would cause you to disappear. Tongue laying flat as he makes out with your pussy, relishing it the way it gushes for him- or how your hips buck when he sucks on your clit just right. 

Simon worked you like he was orchestrating a band- each string plucked to perfection, remembering exactly what you liked like you were the back of his hand- knowing what made you tick. What made you unravel. His free hand slips between your legs, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head when one of his fingers starts to coax you open. It wouldn’t be the most terrible way to go out, if it was from you. 

Taking his sweet time working you to the edge and then over promptly, eyes rolling back as he laps at your cunt as if your juices was nectar- pure ambrosia. Liquid gold- you really did taste just as sweet as he remembered. He holds you firmly down as he continues to work your high into overstimulation, it was messy- worshiping- tongue, mouth, teeth- and he brings you crashing over the edge for a second time before finally pulling back, watching as you tremble beneath him, eyes a little bit glassy. Brain practically melting out of your ears, unable to really focus- tears slipping down your cheeks, breathing in deeply through your nose as you try and regain some sense of coherence. 

He’s never thought you looked more beautiful.

“In sickness and in health.”

It was easy to forget what home was like. Years of corrosion- sinking into grooves of his brain, plaguing his thoughts. Paranoia, questioning— so many voices that it was hard to think. Yet as he looks down at your already tuckered out form, he only smiles- feeling at peace. No voices whispering in his ear- no phantom pains, he felt relaxed, for the first time in a long while. Home was where you were, whether you knew it or not. 

Breathing staggered, he kneads at the meat of your thigh soothingly as he works to fish out his cock with one hand, giving it a few lazy pumps as he lines himself up, smearing arousal over your puffy clit. He rests one hand on your knee, notching the head at your entrance- watching you closely as you give a little shake of your head. 

“‘ou can take it for me, can’t you love?” He encourages, starting to make his way home. The first inch takes his breath away momentarily, and he moves your knees so they are up against your chest. Watching you flit around and flounder- eyes wide as you gasp for breath behind the rag. Drool falling from the corner of your lips, toes curling at the sheer stretch. 

“Tha’s it. Biggg stretch.” He continues to push in until he bottoms out. Thighs pressing to the back of yours, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your cunt tightening around him like a goddamn vice- “Feels like a fuckin’ dream, love. She remembers me huh? Even if you don’t- fuck-“ 

His hand finds your cheek, throat tightening as he sees your panicked expression, the furrowed eyebrows, staring back at him behind a wall of tears. It was enough to make him almost pull out to comfort you. Almost- you’d understand why he was doing this someday, even thank him for it. “It’s okay, deep breaths, yeah? You can do it.” He coaxes instead, pupils blown out as he looks down at where the two of you were connected, giving an experimental thrust, nearly coming at the pretty muffled moan that makes its way out of your throat. It’s been way too long.

“Feels good?” You shake your head, and his eyes crinkle as a smile graces his scarred lips, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. Going slow at first but he starts to get lost in the feeling of his cock drags in and out of your gummy walls— and he starts to go rougher, ignoring your little whimpers and whines. How your feet try and kick free out of the mating press, and he all but snarls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping- almost as a warning as he continues to fuck you into oblivion. 

“To love and to cherish.”

He used to imagine a family with you back then before the bombs dropped. Take a vacation, build a nursery together- paint the walls. Bring a little piece of the both of you into the world. You always did reassure him that his past didn’t define him, that he would be a good father. That he was enough.

Living this long.. had its downside. He knew that. It was an ouroboros, a constant loop, a mindfuck. It’s been hell on Earth. He’s accepted that, a phantom- a ghost living in this wasteland, thriving on those who were more surviving rather than the living. But he never really considered nor cared about a specific aspect of it. Sterile, never able to reproduce. 

Simon had once wondered if one day you’d sit outside with him, dinner on the stove, watching as he built a cradle. He could’ve just imagined the baby bump and his eyebrows furrow, picking up his pace as beads of sweat drip down his brow.

It was wishful thinking. But that’s all it was- wishful.

Maybe in another life— but damn did it sound appealing now. 

He continues to rut into you, nodding his head as if you were in on the conversation he was having with himself. He could just imagine your stomach all round he starts to pant, dark eyes peering down at you. “Yeah you’d been such a good mama, huh? You’d give me a whole litter of them, wouldn’t you?” His hips stutter, squeezing his eyes closed as he hears your garbled sobbing. Trying to get air through the rag, nostrils flaring for breath. His lips drag up your jaw, gently kissing your eyelids as you keep them squeezed shut, muffled whimpers behind the cloth. “I love you so much. Missed ’ou baby.”

His pace stutters once- twice more and he lets out a guttural groan, releasing up against the base of your cervix. He glances down again, staring unabashedly at the milky fluid coating the base of his cock and his head goes a bit fuzzy at the sight. 

The sound of thunder booms outside, rattling the window as the moment comes to an end. Pulling out, he hums as he shrugs off his jacket, ignoring your small sounds of protests as he lays down on the bed next to you.

He easily maneuvers you, his chest facing yours as he starts to slot himself back between your legs. “Settle, jus’ relax love.” He spreads the combined come around before pushing it back inside, keeping you nice and plugged up. “I’m going to remove the rag, you’re not going to scream are you?” 

You look at the stranger- the man? Monster- it was hard to tell but you shake your head regardless, trying to appease him. “Course you won’t. Because you’re my good girl- and you wouldn’t lie to me.” Bringing the fabric out of your mouth causes a whine, jaw tingling and aching as you lick your lips, trying to regain some sort of hydration. 

“Pl- Please I don’t understand I- why are you doing this— please sir-“

“Simon. Don’ want you calling me anything else.” He interrupts your panicked rambling, frowning as he leans down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Soft, gentle— longing. Even if your eyes were wide and terrified, shaking like a leaf, flinching as you look back at his mangled face. “Now sleep. Don’t want any more talking out of you tonight okay?”

When you don’t respond he nudges your chin up, his brow-bone raising expectantly. “We have a long day tomorrow, don’ want you to be tired, okay?” You catch your lip between your teeth, hiccuping and confused. Eventually nodding, letting out a little squeak when he squeezes your waist, fingers brushing over the leather of the belt. “I know it hurts love, I know- ‘ll let you out of these in the morning alright, just don’t want you to gettin’ into any trouble.” Another smile, and he leans down kissing away the tears falling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

For the first time in years, he feels genuinely content, one leg over yours as he throws an arm around your shoulders, chin notching in on the top of your head. He doesn’t sleep that night, listening to your breathing as you finally fall asleep after a bit of struggling, fingertips absentmindedly trailing up and down your spine. He hears the steady pulse of your heart- sees the rise and fall of your chest, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing your temple. 

You were here. Doesn’t matter how, but you were here. Your current state was a problem- sure- but you had all the time in the world to get reacquainted again, and you’d learn to be happy again. To love him again. 

“Until death does us part.” 

“For this is my solemn vow.”

[the-monkey-ruler]

i've been seeing so many comments about the possibility of wukong (after rebirth) and/or many yaoguais/mortals going to war to overthrow the heavenly palace and seize the emperor after the events in black myth: wukong. is that possible to happen? i've read something in your posts about how despite their actions, the heavenly palace/jade emperor is needed to balance the three realms? if that is so, how is overthrowing going to solve any problems? like i get the unfairness of the treatment of yaoguais but ngl, going to war felt like an even worse solution. idk im not knowledgeable of the rules.

i've been seeing so many comments about the possibility of wukong (after rebirth) and/or many yaoguais/mortals going to war to overthrow the heavenly palace and seize the emperor after the events in black myth: wukong. is that possible to happen?

Think of it like this.

There needs to be a Jade Emporer in charge of heaven without a doubt. I've seen some adaptions have it that if he does fall then the world goes through a small apocalypse but isn't unsavable or unliveable. Personally, I think that the world is more likely to fall into an unliveable state, with no weather regulations, ghosts could leave hell and haunt earth, there would be nothing separating the three realms and honestly, humans would be taking the full brunt of the impact. With at least someone in charge of most of the large phenomenons on the planet I do think that would make earth, the underworld, and heaven into a mess of chaos where maybe ghosts and immortals could survive but humans would be nearly wiped out.

That being said while there needs to be a Jade Emperor for sure but that doesn't always have to be the same guy. I believe the original plan was something like Sun Wukong was going to overthrow Heaven and then take over as the Jade Emperor. I've seen this taken in the Lotus Lantern series in a 'what if' dream if Wukong 'won' the fight in heaven and now HE was in charge. One thing that you have to understand that Black Myth Wukong is taking GREAT LIBERTIES with is that Wukong is fighting for yao rights when in the original novel Wukong was fighting for himself. I have to give credit to the detail that Black Myth put into the game but it HEAVILY changed the lore of the story and can almost be an alternative universe within itself with how heaven functions in relation to earth.

Like there are cultivated creatures in heaven, even in the game we see many heavenly beasts that still keep their cultivated form in heaven and are treated as works/disciples/coworkers. The Zodiac animals have humanoid forms. The Plum Brothers, originally Yao in FSYY are Erlang's sworn brothers. Black Wind King and Red Boy are Guanyin's disciples. Yellow Wind Demon is an OFFICAL disciple rather than being a lil mongoose thing that just run away pet. If anything in Black Myth it just shows how maybe Yaos are in heaven. Sure it frames it as them being oppressed but I truly don't think this reflects the original story.

In the original book, Wukong wasn't trying to overthrow heaven in order to overthrow an oppressive regime against yao, but because he broke the laws, ran away, and knew that war was inevitable. He wasn't looking to dismantle an oppressive system, he was going to become the new head of the system and rule it in a way that only benefited himself.

WUKONG IN THE BOOK IS THE BAD GUY.

We love him, we adore him, but HE IS THE BAD GUY.

You can argue that maybe the Jade Emporer wasn't using Wukong to his full ability with how powerful he is, sure, absolutely, but also he had TWO FORMAL COMPLAINTS about him from KING YAMA and ALL FOUR DRAGON KINGS. He wasn't starting his new job with any good recommendations on his resume so it could also be understandable why he started with a low-entry position and maybe worked his way up. This is a job at the end of the day, Wukong COULD have just worked his way up the corporate ladder, that isn't impossible and with how strong/powerful Wukong is, he could def have done that personally.

i've read something in your posts about how despite their actions, the heavenly palace/jade emperor is needed to balance the three realms?

If Wukong won then he would undoubtedly try to take over as Jade Emproer but considering that Wukong at the start of the book had very lil care of humans or yao (I think people forget how Wukong didn't care that his non-monkey yao army was captured and he was only pleased not a single one of his own monkeys were captured) so that he would only rule the heavens where only monkeys made rights and would benefit him and his Sun Clan. He would be grandfather of the year but the rest of the world would be in shambles. Wukong was never trying to overthrow the system, he was going to be in charge of that system and just choose who he wanted to oppress instead.

The Jade Emporer is the Jade Emporer because he has spent his entire lifetime training his mind and body to balance all three realms to keep all life protected. He studied for about 327 million years to get this job, it is not just something you can casually fight him for and take it, like there needs to be credentials. Ghosts are directed to the afterlife, humans stay on earth to live, love, cultivate, and die, and cultivated humans turn into immortals who then can turn into gods who are in heaven to help continue to keep the balance of the world.

if that is so, how is overthrowing going to solve any problems? like i get the unfairness of the treatment of yaoguais but ngl, going to war felt like an even worse solution. idk im not knowledgeable of the rules.

I love that we are getting more media with Yao being sympathetic but the original creation of Yao is that they are unnatural beings. They go against the balance as they are animals/objects that skip their reincarnation process and just jump into being sentient beings without being reborn as humans first. While not inherently evil it does mess with the flow of nature and does make them more prone to be chaotic as it is in their nature to be unbalanced.

Wukong going against heaven was more for the sake of his own ego at the height of his warlord years and could have been completely avoided. The reason that it seems like a bad solution to fighting for Yao rights is because modern writers make it so.

There is no changing the outcome of the story. Wukong has to lose if the plot is to resemble anything like the original tale. And modern writers know this. The war was NEVER INTENDED to be a good solution because it is a plot device to make Wukong look better and make Heaven look bad. Writers don't have to worry about a 'what if he won' because that isn't possible and was never made to be possible.

Wukong was written to fight a war that could never be won to highlight the hopelessness and powerlessness Wukong is facing, making him more human and sympathetic to a large audience. I've spoken about this maybe times before but the plot of Bio of Wukong 悟空传 from 2000 NEARLY 20 years ago really made this popular. That kind of "It is better to die trying than to live a slave" mentality that Wukong is going to lose this fight but at least he is going to fight at all. It is that early 2000s angst that affected many movies and shows after it and even 20 years later we still see how Black Myth Wukong is following this old plot line of "Heaven is actually the bad guy and yao are the oppressed ones." It's not that this plot hasn't been done well just that this is such a common plot point in modern media that it diverts from the original story so much.

Modern writers change it so that instead of Wukong being an egotistical warlord who doesn't think about the consequences of his actions, he is a freedom fighter who is trying to save a marginalized group. The issue is that it seems hopeless to help the Yao cause because there was never a Yao issue in the first place until this point of view came into being. We see in the story that actually many Yao Kings are taken under heaven or were run away from heaven itself who came to earth for personal power. Guanyin takes in Black Wind Demon, Red Boy, and the Centipede Demon to help her. In the book, there isn't an inherent prejudice against yao (because most of them are flat characters that just want to eat Sanzang) and there are many chances of mercy given to them despite their transgressions.

But we see in Black Myth Wukong that any of these attempts to give Yao grace are framed more as 'subjugation'. Any goodwill or olive branch is now just heaven trying to control this marginalized group and they are just manipulating them into being subservient to heaven's will. I really love that the game takes time to flesh out Yaos in the story and still doesn't shy away from showing how they are still the ones at fault for their own current predicaments. Yellow Bros is still an egoistic more worried about winning than truth, Yellow Wind was using the kingdom to his own gain, and the Elder Abbot did let his disciple die to his own greed. I will say I'm not a huge fan of Red Boy's backstory change and then him just killing himself at the end as it felt disingenuous.

What I'm trying to say is that there is no winning in these kinds of storylines. They are twisted for the sake of making Wukong as a tragic hero who is fighting a losing battle that he shall never win which they do a wonderful job at. Everyone loves a tragic hero story and even makes it relatable to people's own struggles with conformity. Wukong is NEVER going to win, Yao are NEVER going to get their rights and it is meant to be just SAD and EDGY but how people shouldn't stop trying to fight even if it is a losing battle else than fight they would in a fate even worse than death. Spoilers but the end of 悟空传 is that WUKONG DIES because he rather die than be subjugated and THAT HAPPENED IN BLACK MYTH. This is a 20-year-old light novel and they are still rehashing this plot. (I'm sorry if it seems I don't like this trope, I do, but I have seen it for years and find it unoriginal at this point. I have seen it be done very well but I shall say I did enjoy it more in my 'teen angst' years than I do now.)

The OG light novel never made it so that anyone can 'win' and the same can be said in the Black Myth Universe. It almost glorifies being a martyr rather than living in subjugation because modern writers didn't write any viable solutions where our heroes 'win'. And you can't apply this with the original Xiyouji mythos or else it starts to fall apart when looking at what ACTUALLY happened with Wukong and how yaos are treated.

Also having that the fillet isn't gone and that buddhahood is a lie in Black Myth is also a HUGE divination from canon. Just know that if Wukong is a Buddha he wouldn't be bound to the fillet because he isn't bound to his physical body anymore and IS AS POWERFUL as the OG Buddha himself making any case of this null.

Personally (we are getting into AU territory) if there was a case of fighting for Yao rights in a frame of actually trying to find applicable solutions to make a real difference in the world then I truly believe that the ACTUAL JOURNEY TO THE WEST is the answer.

I'm taking some inspiration from the 1996 TV series when Sanzang wants to actually save every demon he comes across on their journey and he believes that the scriptures can provide that way. That through the Buddhist texts, Yaos could cultivate without eating humans and they can reach full human-hood and even enlightenment with the sacred texts thus creating a world where both humans can become more enlightened and kind to one another and where Yao can live peacefully without needing to cause harm to others.

I think that if there was ever a story that really captured the essence of what Journey to the West was about, that anyone can have a second chance and that no one is beyond the line of being saved, then Wukong trying to liberate Yao kind is to find a solution to why there shouldn't be Yao Kings or yao-eating-humans and thus dissolving any reason heaven would see Yao as threats to humans. Not all Yao eat humans yes BUT MOST DO to cultivate, and if the scriptures can bring that kind of enlightenment to a human then they could offer an easy and safe way that Yao can be accepted into society.

Journey to West to me has always been about second chances and how it's never too late for people to change and learn from their mistakes. Even a warlord monkey, an ex-marshall, a disgraced general, a banished prince, or a cast-out disciple could come together on a strange journey and find that violence doesn't have to be the answer but how compassion, teamwork, and understanding lead to try change within a person.

It makes it so that the journey isn't just a 'tool of heaven' but a valid solution not only to humans but also to Yaos who are genuine in wanting to become human and not cause any harm. Even humans can learn how to let go of their prejudices by becoming enlightened and letting go of fear and hate of new things. Bringing in a better world where the goal isn't separation but learning how to connect with others through understanding and patience.

That is more MY THEORY on how a better way to handle a (hypothetical) yao discrimination issue would arise.

I'm sorry for the LONG winded answer, I did have a lot to say on the matter but I hope that clears up more why the 'Wukong fighting heaven as a rebel' is a popular trope but also why it was never written to explain how it would be a viable solution as it was always written to make Wukong a tragic hero than anything else. You are right that it would not likely fix anything but also it was never intended to 'fix' as Wukong is always fate to lose that battle.

[weiila]

About posturing in Helluva Boss

I made a joke post a few days ago about Satan being an angry crier and that's why he needs Yogirt, but I'm only half joking.

A very prominent theme in Helluva Boss is characters putting up a facade of toughness and strength when they're actually close to a meltdown or trying to fake it until they make it and being terrified of being found out.

Blitz is the prime example of course, because he's the main character - his anger and insults hide a very caring and desperately lonely interior.

Fizz is very much the same, a loudmouth who truly believed he could not be loved without earning it, and for years played the role of the sassy jester while in constant fear of losing everything he had worked so hard for.

Loona had to pretend to be a savage, violent beast in the pound to protect herself, but broke down the second she thought nobody was looking. She still has trouble showing Blitz she does care (until Mastermind).

Ozzie is very different when he's working - which is how he's introduced in Ozzie's - compared to how he is in private, which we see later on in Oops.

Millie is an unstoppable murder machine at work but a sweetheart as soon as she can clock out (and sometimes during work as well).

Bee MIGHT be the most honest character we've seen that has been on screen for more than one episode, but there are probably more layers to her as well. I'd say Striker too, BUT he tries so hard to be cool yet can't keep his head on straight when things go bad.

For a minor character, look at Crimson. He seems like this scary, imposing mob boss, but he buckles the second he's out of subordinates and Millie heads towards him. He manages to play it cool as he surrenders Moxxie, but there's zero resistance despite what he's painted himself as. Oh yes, Crimson has absolutely killed people, but if he was half the badass he pretends to be then he'd at least try do deal with Millie himself. But he doesn't. Most likely he can't fight for shit and has only managed to take out people weaker than him or with tricks. Without his underlings he's got nothing.

Now Hell as presented as very much a dog-eat-dog place, so them putting on this air is absolutely a way to survive.

And then there's Satan.

Satan created a whole species to specifically be obedient. Why? Because it makes him feel superior.

Satan flat out lies about being the first ruler of Hell, but Lucifer isn't around to correct him. Would he say that if Lucifer was? Probably not. But he says it because he knows nobody present dares to correct him. (This was vague in the episode with Ozzie and Bee just looking annoyed but confirmed by Viv in case you haven't seen that tweet being reposted.)

I have zero doubt that this dude has self-confidence as sturdy as a gnat. He can't handle being questioned or called out or worse of all, have his power being doubted.

And about Yogirt: Satan can't even keep his own Sin under control - he needs a support demon to do that. None of the other Sins we've spent time with, including Lucifer, are ruled by the Sin they represent - not even Mammon. Even if Mammon is absolutely greedy, he's enjoying himself and more importantly he can control himself and realize when to back off without needing outside help. Satan cannot do that. He needs a lil' dude to flutter up to talk about him about breathing and gemstones, or he loses it.

Every Sin, plus Charlie and Ars Goetia, transform when they get angry, and it seems like it's involuntary to a large degree (angels also seem to have this issue). I believe that the Satan we saw in Mastermind is actually his full demon rage form, BUT he desperately wants everyone to think that's his casual form (and that you wouldn't like him when he's angry!). If he lost his temper too much, it would become obvious that he doesn't change to become even scarier and then everyone would know that the imposing, godlike dragon man isn't what he really is.

My humble conclusion, dear reader:

Satan is nothing but a master fraudster, the ultimate faker-till-you-make-it and he's scared spitless of losing that image. Satan is the weakest Sin because he's controlled by his Sin instead of the other way around, but over millenia he's managed to con everyone into thinking he's the biggest badass in the land.

... except possibly Belphegor since she must have been the one to assign Yogirt to him. Keep a few eyes on that sheep, people. She knows things.

Anyway Satan is probably on the road to having a breakdown of epic proportions because Blitz is about to become his worst nightmare and it'll be glorious.

[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♥︎𓆪 I Choose Me. —

Elijah Mikaelson x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst | fluff | SMUT.

warnings: breeding kink, soft dom!elijah, hybrid!y/n, desperation, need, man falls first, woman falls harder, soft smut, gentle dirty talk. grab tissues for your eyes and tomatoes for niklaus, it’s time for elijah’s ending.

synopsis: but what about elijah’s happiness?

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

To be an elder Mikaelson sibling you had to be strong, resilient...patient. You have to be ready for anything, your back mustn't touch the wall lest the foundation crumbles and you are right back where you started. ... Sacrificing anything to provide your family with everything. Anyone.

And that's when the lines get blurred and you start to question if family is even a thing that exists, is there a family at all if you're at each other's throats, a dagger just itching to imbed itself in your poor beloved siblings, but do they deserve it? Had they ever not?

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

Elijah Mikaelson was a very stubborn individual when he needed to be, he had to be if he were to keep his family safe from any and every threat posed to them. To be a Mikaelson was to command respect the second you should enter any room. The quarter was growing more tense by day and there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep his people alive and healthy.

Elijah believed in the principles of familial relationships, they meant everything to him, if he had to lose it all he would do so all in the name of saving his family, he had done so before and he'd do it again.

That didn't mean family was easy, nothing about being a Mikaelson was anywhere near. Being an Original vampire was something that came with a target on your back, especially with so many bridges built and then subsequently burned, bodies left behind, and bloodshed.

—

Niklaus Mikaelson was a testament to how complicated family ties could be. A product of adultery and lust, condemned to a lifetime of abuse, and far far worse when the truth is exposed his claws begin to lengthen, and the first hybrid is born. Vampire and Werewolf.

The man he thought was his father shuns him, calls him a beast, a bastard, hunts him to the ends of the earth armed with a white oak stake to take his life more times than can be counted in one therapy session. So the hatred and anger...It festers. Brews. Until a beast is truly born, one that takes on his 'father's' traits more and more by the day and still...Elijah has hope for his brother, and in some ways, he envies him, in one very specific sense of the word.

You see, vampires cannot procreate but werewolves, they can and do. Niklaus is a hybrid with a penchant for an affair or two, such is one case with a little wolf so special she held Elijah's heart in her hands from the moment they met even as she'd carried his younger brother's child.

And that brings us to Elijah's sudden hesitation on his principles, his own rules becoming sour on his tongue when he thinks about them any further.

When baby Alyssa was born, her mother and father barely got a moment with her before she was sent off with Cami to be kept safe when the factions started going to war, and the witches specifically had taken a liking, more so a hatred—to the first hybrid having a child they were told he could use as a weapon to make more like him. They needed to kill her.

Instead, the family killed her. As far as anyone knew baby Alyssa had died an hour after she was born, mourned by Y/n, the wolves, the Mikaelsons, hell the entire town felt the loss. Others were happy to be rid of the potential threat.

Only the trusted knew the child was still alive, but her loss in the household was felt nonetheless...especially by Y/n. The birth was traumatizing, she'd been murdered, her baby had been kidnapped, and she'd woken up feeling brand new. — A hybrid.

When they'd gotten Alyssa back before Genevieve completed the ritual, she knew she'd sacrifice anything for that little girl, even if it meant handing her over to Cami and being away from her.

It was for the better.

Elijah had held her tightly in his arms as she sobbed into his chest after they'd returned to the compound without her daughter.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

It was midnight in the compound when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. Despite himself, he feels a smile tug at his lips, he knew it had to be only one person and it took everything in his bones not to snatch the door open just to see her face a little quicker, but he refrained.

Met with those familiar almond-shaped caramel eyes, a deep brown freckled complexion framed with sandy brown butt-length soft locs, lips parted slightly suggesting she was just about to call for him when he opened the door turning her cheeks a rosy pink when she's caught, there's a hint of amusement in his eyes which begin to wander her being, noting the ponytail her locs are in, to the oversized shirt she wore to her glasses sat on her nose and the expression that told him she'd just woken up.

"Y/n." He begins, only to be cut off by the feel of her arms wrapping around his neck and a little sob meeting his ears. He feels it turn on instantly, that protective instinct he'd always felt around her is switched the second the slightest whimper reaches him.

❦ ⌫ ❦

"I had another nightmare." She whispers, leaving me no time to answer before she's inside my bedroom and I begin to tow that invisible line. Temptation on my mind, but my concern for her outweighs.

This has become quite the routine since Alyssa's 'death'. The little wolf had a way of tugging on your heartstrings and with those puppy dog eyes, I can't even begin to unravel the mystery of how more aren't utterly addicted. She bats those lashes and suddenly nothing matters. She speaks like a siren and suddenly I'm weak in the knees. Jelly. If the blood were to pump through my veins, it would pump solely for her. My heart beats solely for her.

I take her into my arms without hesitation though I know there should be some distance and boundary. She's the mother of my younger brother's child. Yet...

I reel in my emotions and keep my composure but the battle within myself is one I continue to lose when it comes to her. When I see the mascara tears streaking her cheeks, I become but a fool; as always, I break.

...

...

...

She needs me.

↳

The little wolf's beauty is simply unrivalled, and more often than not do I find myself entranced, lost admiring her and ensuring every detail, down to the smallest becomes engraved in my mind so much so that I'm sure I could identify her by beauty mark alone.

As she sits in front of me and I watch her wiping away the streaks of black tears, her eyes focused in on the handheld mirror she'd told me once belonged to her grandmother. — You see, I inevitably notice everything that goes on with the wolf. I always have; the slightest shift, the newest look, expression, what have you.

My eyes are still on her, and as they roam, my sights are occupied when I come to the sudden realization that the shirt the wolf wears, one that had caught my eye from the moment she stepped into my bedroom and set my undead heart aflame, was in all actuality, one of mine.

I'm sure my jaw has dropped but I pay no mind to my expression, all too enthralled in what the little wolf had going on, I find myself unable to look away. Who would want to? She's a creature crafted by the Gods and Goddesses themselves.

I guess I was a bit overzealous in my efforts to admire the beauty that she is; She breaks me free of my stupor, eyes directing that chocolate brown gaze my way and I find my stomach churning and tightening all with the thought that she might be the one thing to make me forget all my principles. — The possibility of angering Niklaus seems so worth it when I look to the art that the world hasn't proved itself worthy of revelling at; It seems even further worth it when that honeyed angelic voice of hers finds its way into my psyche and takes home there.

Siren to sailor. I find myself lured, and there's not much effort on her part. There doesn't need to be. Not when I am ready and very willing to fall into the many pieced puzzle that Y/n Y/ln was turning out to be.

"You're staring." I hear her sigh, we're sat face to face. Her in front of me on the sofa; Me, sat in the chair across from her. I feel myself growing a tad hot under the collar when she scoots herself forward a little closer, those hauntingly beautiful eyes of hers staring directly into mine. — There's a look in her eyes that I can't quite read, and though we'd grown closer, and I'd become quite the expert in all things Y/ln; Right now, and still, she was quite the mystery.

All I know is how that stare made me feel...She'd weakened and buckled my knees without me ever needing to stand up.

"Ah." I clear my throat, I wish to respond but my mouth moves not with my mind. She has rendered me defenseless in such a short period of our knowing each other that it feels as if I have known her a millennia.

"Do I still have something on my face, Lijah? You're worrying me. So zoned out..."

I have lived through and survived wars, I have watched famine and plagues kill off entire villages. I have seen the wickedness of man, I have existed and survived, myself, as the wickedness of man. I have torn through villages, leaving blood and carnage behind, killing in the name of family and letting nothing stand in my way, all in the name of protecting my loved ones.

To be a Mikaelson is to be fearless, confident, strong, ruthlessly loyal, and commanding; A leader, and in so many aspects I humbly admit to embodying just that. Yet as I sit here, staring into her eyes, struggling and stumbling over my words like a schoolboy with a crush, I am met with the knowledge that I might've just found the one thing, one person that both makes me weak, renders me speechless.

No, no this is something I am sure of. I have found the one person capable of knocking me down a peg, reminding me that I had once been human; Fragile, meek, and susceptible to a beautiful woman's charms.

I don't think she knows exactly how deep her powers reach. She has the ability to make an Original a nervous little boy.

"No, no. Nothing at all." I muster, but I don't even believe my own words and by the look on her face; She doesn't believe them either and at first I hesitate, wondering if I should let it slip that when I look at her I see a masterpiece. A work of art in my midst.

The little hybrid is one otherworldly creature, never had I ever met a woman as elegant, and ethereal as she. My lips parted, words silenced as I argue with two sides of myself; One so ruthlessly loyal to his family he'd do anything, lose anything for them and though it's normally the former…I find the other side winning me over.

The side that is tired of not living for me. The side that sees me as deserving of love and the little hybrid as worth every consequence.

I finally find my voice. "My apologies, you are just...something else. A vision of empyreal elegance. While I apologize for marveling, I recognize that in your perfection...You are something to be marveled at in all your glory...Gods woman." The words stumble out before I can attempt to hit the brakes. My bed is made.

She flashes that pretty little smile. I am ready to lie in it.

"You sound awfully smitten, Mr. Mikaelson."

A chuckle rumbles through me if only she knew just how much. This storm had been brewing for far too long, and I was no longer willing to try and stop it. Fighting seemed futile.

I find myself moving to sit beside her, my hand reaching out to tuck a few stray locs behind her ear, and I revel, I completely and utterly revel in the way pink dusts those beautifully high cheekbones of hers with a soft blush.

I don't want to fight.

"And what of it, little one? That a bad thing?" My voice is a mere whisper, lost in those eyes of hers. It feels as if she's ripped my heart from my chest and claimed for her own, and I, a willing fool; allow it.

"No...I just see the way you look at me. It matches my gaze when it falls upon...you."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

Their eyes remain locked on one another and the world drifts, it simply drifts away when the lovers fall into one another, ready and all too happy to drown. Elijah simply can't hold it in anymore, his attraction to the hybrid. Niklaus could be angry later, he'd handled his younger brother before, he could do it again. But no longer would he wait. His Persephone sat only inches away, he could feel her breath hitting his skin. He leans in closer, tilting her head up to look back into his eyes.

"May I trouble you for a kiss, sweetheart? It seems I can no longer control my urges. You- You are too tempting." His voice is soft and breathy, and Y/n can feel herself falling all the same. Just like she'd been doing from the moment they'd met. Locked eyes.

This had been building up and it was bound to explode. She nods, her forehead pressing against his. She lets out a breath she didn't know she'd even been holding, a hand resting on his cheek. "I- I have been waiting for you to ask since that night on the balcony."

It was like a switch flips in Elijah because suddenly he wraps an arm around her waist tugging her closer towards him, impish grin spread across his lips, eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation; He finds none, and that's all he needs. His lips meet hers and by no means is it rough or sloppy, their lips a choreographed routine filled with a tender, gentle, and romantic passion. One that set fireworks off in the room and butterflies off in the pit of Y/n's stomach.

When they part from the kiss, at last, Elijah once again tugs her closer until she's sat in his lap with his arms wrapped tightly around her to ensure she was secure and protected, as if she were the most delicate thing he'd ever come across. "Allow me to apologize for my tardiness. I assure you I see the error of my ways, and I assure you no longer am I able to deny myself the pleasures the little goddess in my lap brings. You...You are something so sinisterly entrancing, Y/n Y/ln."

Elijah Mikaelson has a way about him that no one can quite resist, a charm that shines through and blinds you to his last name. There was a reason the factions of the quarter were more open to forming alliances when it was him speaking on behalf of his family. The noble gentlemanly way in which he carries himself could charm the panties off the toughest of Mikaelson critics, and Y/n, herself for that matter.

Perhaps it was a little somber to say but she's never met anyone quite like Elijah before, a man so romantic and passionate she was sure she'd stepped into a fairytale starring a Prince Charming so handsome he could stop hearts with a simple glance. "My, you have such a way with words. You're gonna make a lady's knees week."

That rumbling chuckle once again reverberates through the woman's body, sending a shiver down her spine. She's once again forced to look into his eyes, and this time it almost stops her heart. That half-grin that shows he knows his power, those chocolatey brown eyes filled with love; filled with lust.

"And what happens, little wolf, when you realize that that is precisely my intention? My dear, you see, when it comes to you...that has always been the end goal. Not only do I wish to take claim of the intelligence that is your mind and the heart I hear beating so very loudly for me...No. I am a selfish greedy man, and I want it all." Elijah leans down to whisper gently into her ear, no longer would he take into account those who merely disregarded him in turn. He was so...hungry.

One could define his behavior as obsession, greed, gluttony. Maybe it was all of the above when it came to her. He was mad for the little wolf, and more than anything he needs to feast; His eyes linger on her neck for a moment too long until she's looking up at him through those lashes of hers with a look that speaks nothing but trouble into the atmosphere. —Her next words become a beacon, his fangs can no longer control themselves.

"A sample?" The way she presents her neck to him is all too erotic though vampirism had always been nothing short of, and the male feared his hunger would not dissipate with a 'sample' nor was he sure he'd have the self control to pull himself away, and yet...

He brushes her locs from her shoulder exposing more of her neck to him; leaning down, he inhales deeply and the scent of her. The mere scent. It was enough to have his trousers feel three sizes too small. "Stop me now, dear. I'm not sure I can stop myself." He whispers, breath kissing her neck with a gentle blow.

Y/n, god the minx — She merely tilts her head even further, eyes flickering back over to him. "A sample, Elijah."

The universe was testing him. It had to be so. His breath hitches, eyes flickering over from the spider tattoo that rests on a pulse point to the beauty marks and freckles scattered about the very surface. He looks into her eyes for one last chance. One last chance to stop him where he sits.

In case he ever thought he couldn't find more reason to think the wolf the most attractive creature to him, she'd always been there to prove him wrong. He feels himself letting a silent chuckle escape, his eyes turning black and fangs descending the moment he sees that look of challenge cross her features. "You are a dangerous one, Miss Y/ln...The day you take the Mikaelson name. Dear...You'll fit right in."

She lets out the sweetest moan and it's like music to his ears, something that rivals and trumps the greats. If he were to hear nothing more than her voice for the rest of his eternities, he would live a contented life. And her blood...

Why it's like nothing he's ever tasted, something so sweet, so delectable; He'd be a fool to allow it to be shared with someone else. No. This was his. She was his. When he finally regains his self-control and pulls himself away, his lips are immediately on hers, and lying her down — His body hovers over hers.

His tone is breathy and strained with desire when they break for air, looking down at the little wolf with such lust in his eyes it'd make the strongest fall to the knees in front of him. "It seems I was right in my assumptions...I need more. Much more. And I...Sweet wolf..."

He brushes the hair from her eyes and leans down so they're eye to eye, lips close enough to steal another kiss. He continues. "Don't think I possess the self-control needed to not simply take it, so I again implore, darlin'. Do you wish to go any further?"

As he says this, she watches his hands move to the buckle of his belt and her eyes stick to the scene for a brief moment neglecting to give an answer right away until her eyes meet with his again and her own hands move to help unbuckle his belt.

"Nous sommes toujours jeunes, ma douce...and I could spend all my eternities...drowning in you." She finally speaks, one hand helping unbuckle his belt whilst the other tugs him in by the tie for another kiss.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

They say you only live once, though I have found such to be untrue. My family and I have died a million deaths, hunted, persecuted, making enemy after enemy as we go but I swear. In this moment, I am sure I have never experienced anything coming close to the wolf's soul-piercing, hypnotic, stomach-churning gaze.

No, no, I had never experienced anything coming close to the wolf. End.

My hands run from her chest to her stomach to those deliciously built hips that I had endlessly fantasized about within those quiet nights, fingers roaming to the hem of her lace white panty. I can feel the goosebumps on that beautiful caramel complexion of hers when I slide the lace down her smooth long legs; She busies herself with removing that damned shirt and soon before my very eyes is my every dream.

Her body is a temple and I am here to worship, her cunt stares back at me glistening and dripping onto the sheets immediately in such a way I can't help myself to tease, "You're gushing sweetheart. So soon?"

This, this is what makes the little wolf so alluring. She bites back, and she bites back in a way that makes you want to make her absolutely eat her words, and that alone puts the vivid image of her pretty lush little lips wrapped around your cock, drooling and gagging with tears in those beautiful eyes, mascara streaking down her cheeks.

"And you? That looks painful. I'm surprised you haven't cum in your pants yet." She gives me this smug little smirk as if she's gotten one up on me, and in a way, she has. Hell, in multiple ways, but there were ways to rectify this, and I would rectify this.

I chuckle at her attempt to provoke. No dear, all you've done is provoke me since we've met. It is time I finally allow you to see what exactly wakes up when you do so. "No, no, my sweet doll, I? Oh, I desire to relieve my woes in something far better, in fact? I intend to do just that. You see..."

I take my slacks and boxers down with little regard for where they're thrown. My grip returns to her hips and I can't help to admire the sweet thing I have beneath me, so damned beautiful. So damned inviting. "I intend to breed this pretty cunt until I'm satisfied, and sweetheart I hope you think no less of me when I say this but...Foreplay is the last thing on my mind right now. I need to bury myself in you. I need to drown myself in you. Say the word."

Gods. Gods. The wolf never fails to give me a goddamned run for my money. She wraps her legs around my torso and uses her strength to pull me in, those soft plush lips of hers curling into that same smirk that seemed to want me damned to hell. She's a succubus, and it's only made clearer when her hand entangles itself in my hair and I'm pulled closer, her breath hitting my skin when she breathily whispers into my ear, sending a shudder down my spine.

"The word."

Before I can even blink my body moves before my mind is able to catch up, a growl thundering within my chest, nails slightly digging into her hips whilst the other aligns myself with her cunt hole, sliding in slowly...

I hear her whimper, I hear it dissolve into a pretty little moan, I feel her clench, I feel the way her cunt hugs my cock, and yet all I can focus on is how much better she feels than my fantasies of her ever envisioned. I attempt to give her time to adjust but I can feel my hips twitching ever so.

I attempt to wait, I do. It's my hips that have a mind of their own.

The first thrust into her heat nearly has my body stuttering, her warmth is tight, and the little wolf is so drenched it helps me set a delectable pace. "Elijah..." She moans my name, and I swear I've never heard it sound so good. I watch her face, eating the way her eyebrows knitted and her lips parted in pleasure. She's like no woman I've had the pleasure to bed with, there's something so different about how I feel with her that it feels like I've reached the end of the red thread and am now face to face with my soulmate.

"Listen to that...How pretty you sound when you moan my name."

I hoist her legs over my shoulder to get a better angle, only to slide deeper into the addictive drug that her heat is turning out to be. My pace is nowhere near slow but at the very least I am in control, no, allow me to rephrase. — At the very least, I hold onto a string's length of control and the string threatened to snap with every thrust into the little wolf's cunt.

I see a blush rise to her cheeks, which only serves to rip a grunt-tinged moan from my throat. She looks so beautiful underneath me. Delicate with a slim thick figure, curves in all the right places, it was absolutely no wonder I couldn't keep my hands off of her.

Her nails run themselves down my chest the moans of my name becoming an echo that livens me more than I initially thought possible. She is the perfect definition of a succubus and I, oh I've become a willing victim. A fool for her affections. "I need more. I need you deeper, Elijah." She compels me, and I for once, fall under the spell. I allow my mind to be hers. My body to be her toy in any way she needs it to be. Her hands move to my rear and before I can even think she's pulling me closer, deeper, and I am human again.

My hips thrust with the wildest of abandons and my head is soon buried into inviting neck of hers as I push my way to my final goal; the puppy beneath me was just begging to be bred.

There are such simple pleasures that I take joy in, the ones that remind me of a humanity I'd long since lost, and this. This was one of those simple pleasures. You see, as I bury myself to the hilt in the little things cunt, I inhale the scent, the pheromones she so naturally exudes. I hear her every breath shudder and her walls flutter around me. I smell the scent of her jasmine shampoo. I feel the smoothness of her flesh, the warmth of her body against mine and the feeling of chest pressed to chest.

There was nothing more real. More human than how her body embraced mine, moulded together, moving in perfect harmony. I grunt into her ear with each hard, rough thrust. "Deeper is what you want? Well, sweetest. I think we can come to an agreement. Our wants are aligned."

I can feel myself getting closer to the edge and by the way her walls tighten, I gather she's close as well. I grab onto one of her legs, my lips meeting every inch of skin from calf to thigh, my moans hoarse and strained as euphoria steals me away. I let out a breathy whisper.

"Y-yeah?"

The stammer in her voice is enough to nearly send me flying but I manage to ground myself. I need this to be special, to take my time. To take my time... “You want deep. You want more? Good. You wanna know what I want, pretty one?"

The look on her face only gets me further worked up, I can tell she's about to climax so I stop my movements for a moment just to lean in and get a good look at her face. "I said...Do you want to know what I desire, little princess? Let me hear how pretty you sound all flush and breathy, sweetheart and I promise...We both get what we want. So?"

Ah, there it is. "No- NO. I wish to know what you desire."

There we go. Such a good girl, I don't think I've given in to anything faster than I have now. My hips resume their movements and for a moment all I can do is grunt and moan so primally it reminds me the beast that lies underneath, until I look down to her and I am broken free of my daze. "Me, dear? I want to breed you full of my bloodline. Is that too. much. to. ask?"

My teeth grit together and her nails dig into my back, all that is heard is skin-to-skin and the soft words of two lovers embracing the night.

Have I mentioned how the little wolf continuously surprises me? I am hanging on by a mere thread and soon is my collapse when I feel her lips latch onto my earlobe that voice of hers a melody when she whispers my undoing, "Drown yourself in me. Let all your worries go as your seed spills into me, Elijah. We figure out the rest later."

My pace quickens, my thrusts more erratic and uncontrolled chasing a high I never wanna come down from. It's as soon as those lush lips part, and her eyebrows knit, her heat clenching so tightly I could barely move an inch, the moment I feel her cross that edge? There's a low groan of her name, strained, hoarse, and raw. My hips stutter and I bring our heads together, intertwining our hands, my eyes running over that beautiful face of hers until I am finally too taken to focus, my seed spilling into her and my grip getting tighter on her delicate hands, I take joy when I feel that second orgasm rocking through her body. I find myself laughing a little when I look down at her.

"Again?"

She blushes in embarrassment and it's like another switch is flipped in my head the moment I pull myself away from her and lie down with the little wolf taking no time to come lie in my arms. "Shut up. It was-."

"Cute." I finish for her and pull her closer to me, "It was so damned cute."

I do as she says, I drown in her. I let her take me away to sea. We could figure out the rest later.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

Niklaus Mikaelson, the beast of the compound, merciless and ruthless is he. Elijah had high hopes for his youngest brothers redemption but that had been before the objectification of the wolf had begun shortly after finding out she was carrying baby Alyssa. Niklaus had become more than possessive over the poor woman and Elijah knew there was only one way this would end when it came to the hybrid.

The sun begins to rise but Elijah himself hadn't slept a wink, he'd been too energized to do so with the little angel by his side, head resting on his chest and light snores heard whilst she sleeps peacefully. He had almost been too afraid to move but the jitters find him soon enough and he's carefully removing the tired thing from his embrace, jonesing for a mug of tea to help calm his excitement. He hadn't felt so happy in such a long time.

Unbeknownst to him there were far too many people in the compound for his dealings to be kept secret, a head peeks out of a nearby bedroom with a smile of genuine happiness for the Original all the same. — But not everyone could be so.

He's stood in front of the tea kettle, his back turned until he hears a boisterous clap and his eyes roll so far back into his head he's almost discovered the secret to life when the familiar cocky English accent belonging to his younger brother hits his ear. Tea time would have to wait, he disappointed-ly supposed before turning around to deal with Niklaus's already felt anger.

"So I see the little wolf has woven you into her webs. Splendid brother." Niklaus sarcastically speaks up, his hands falling to his sides eyes scanning his elder brother in utter contempt. Only this time, Elijah feels himself struggle to care for Niklaus's hotheaded-to-be-expected mood swings.

Elijah lets out a breathy chuckle, lips wrapping around the rim of his mug with a finger up to signal Niklaus to wait whilst he takes a sip. He sees the hybrid's jaw clench. "You know brother, I never really cared for your taste in women but that one upstairs? Oh, she's the best decision you've ever failed to make."

"Failed. She is the mother of my heir, my legacy. That is not a failure, no. No, the failure is yours for neglecting to keep your promise, dear brother and all for the likes of..."

Elijah puts his mug down when he feels the disrespect towards Y/n on his brother's tongue, stepping up to him with no hesitation; He gives him a smile with zero joy beneath it, only a calm, levelheaded warning. "Think carefully of your next words before you speak them Niklaus. I plead this for your sake."

Niklaus laughs in disbelief, clapping his hands together before taking a mimicked step forward as well. "You would fight your own over a woman you've barely known a year?"

"You've killed your own for less."

Niklaus's glare falters when Elijah speaks, he dares not refute the truth but oh it stings his ego to hear his flaws thrown back at him, Elijah isn't the least surprised when he's pinned to the wall with Niklaus's hand wrapped round his neck. "Well then, since I am the bastard son. The beast. Maybe I should live up to my title. Tell me, brother, are you prepared to die behind the little wolf? I simply can't allow my own sibling to be with the mother of my child so it seems I'll simply have to fix this...My way."

"Oh drop the victim complex, Niklaus. No one is calling you a bastard, nor a beast but you are acting like one, no? Yes, I'd die for her, and so so much more because you see to me she's more than a walking incubator. Tell me Niklaus...Do you think she feels safe around you? Happy? When all you've done is treat her like a possession to be had? Or is she afraid? Terrified of the monster you're turning int-."

Niklaus is seething, throwing him into the nearest wall with a growl, his eyes turning that familiar black and silver, fangs popping out as he rolls his neck, fury absolutely steaming from his ears. "Oh, the little wolf has you in the palm of her hands. Wrapped around her finger. But you know, I get it. The whore was a wonderful lay."

❦ ⌫ ❦

It was like a switch flipped in Elijah's head the moment he heard the disrespect towards the woman he cherished more than the air he breathed, his eyes mere voids in contrast to their natural chocolatey brown. "Y'know Brother, I've always prided myself on my love and loyalty for my family so hear me when I say this," He clears his throat, cracking his knuckles and taking a page from Nik's book when he rolls his neck, "Because you are family I will give you one chance to right your wrongs, you're allowed to repeat yourself, but I surely and strongly advise against it."

Niklaus growls, a rumbling sound that feels as though it may shake the compound without so much as a care or thought for the survival of those who inhabited the rooms or roamed the halls. "Well I wasn't planning on it but maybe I should go upstairs, find your little wolf and truly make the whore my, what was it you called her? Ah yes, my possession."

It was then that Elijah could feel himself lose it the moment the words were uttered once more, and it's at the moment Niklaus says the word possession that Elijah makes his move, pinning his younger brother to the nearest wall and landing a punch to his jaw.

Always and forever be damned. There were so few siblings other than Rebekah and Freya that actually used the oath wisely, and Niklaus had gotten away with the opposite so many times with his "woe is me" act — turning his traumas into a crutch that had held the Mikaelson clan hostage for decades; Millenniums. No more.

He should've listened to Rebekah from the very start when she'd told him that Niklaus was simply too far gone to be saved. Still, it tears at his being that it has to come to this.

"You should be thanking me for not snapping your neck where you stand, dear brother for the words you speak are so disrespectful I'm not sure I wish to stop myself."

Niklaus pushes him back only for Elijah to slide back with a hiss tearing through his throat, ready to fight for his happiness. Ready to fight for her. Nik runs at him, wielding a piece of white oak in his hand that Elijah dodges just barely, the stake mere centimetres from his neck stuck inside the compound walls. They struggle and fight for the stake but in the end, no one wins for something stops the men where they stand.

Freya stands exhaustedly next to Keelin and Rebekah who didn't look too amused themselves, all in matching states of unrest. Then and only then is it noticed that Niklaus's free hand held a dagger which pierced into Elijah's stomach.

An agonized scream is heard so gutturally and before Niklaus can take another breath, he and the blade are both pushed away from the Original, a familiar head of sandy brown locs coming to Elijah's aid. “ELIJAH!!”

Niklaus looks between the women and his brother; all he can muster is a scoff. "You dare betray your own flesh, your own blood for the little wolf? How noble." He licks blood from his lips just as Freya pulls the stake and dagger from his hands with no more than a wave of her hand.

"Niklaus, listen to yourself for a second." Freya finally speaks up, ushering her girlfriend behind her in case the hybrid gets any bright ideas.

"You drone on about family and loyalty without knowing what either mean." Rebekah swallows, tears in her eyes; she gestures to Y/n and Elijah, the wolf wrapped in his arms whilst the vampire groans from the pain but dares not pull away. The agony seemed more than worth it when it's her causing it, "You were about to end our brother's life, and for what? Your ego? Pride? Insecurities that run so deep now that you're a father? Is that it?"

Niklaus's face falls, and that's when Freya tells Keelin to head back upstairs before she takes part in the conversation. "You know nothing...nothing. She is the mother of my heir and he..."

"He's treated me more like a person than you ever have since you found out Alyssa was to be born."

"You will no longer blame Elijah for your losses, Niklaus. Your tendency to do so is a flaw that's been ignored too long." Freya whispers fully prepared to snap her own family's neck if need be.

Niklaus is stunned. He's frozen on his spot at this point, looking from gaze to gaze and seeing nothing but disappointment and fury.

"Elijah has done nothing but fight for us, our happiness...your redemption. And all that you give him in return is control over his life. Over ours. Have you ever thought, Nik...That- You'd be a better father if you stopped behaving like ours?" Rebekah is nearly pleading with him now, her hands shaking like never before. She walks up to Niklaus, grabbing his hands in hers. "You starved me of my love, my family, my happiness. I am begging. Begging. That you not do the same to Elijah. I will never and I mean never trust you again if you don't."

A tear falls down his eye, breath shuddering as he once again looks around the room incurring the wrath and sorrow that lie within it. His eyes fall to his bleeding older brother and his child's mother, embraced safely within each others arms. He looks back to Freya and Rebekah and his hand lifts with his final words.

"I'll go. A family should stay here. I fear I must relearn what that is before I trust myself enough to be apart."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

I sit in front of him, my hand dabbing away at the wound which would no doubt heal in only an hour or two, but still, I get lost in my thoughts blaming myself for he and his brother's fallout tonight. I guess I'd been more out of it than I thought.

His hand catches the wrist that held the towel I use to clean his wound, and suddenly I'm brought a breath apart, my hand on his chest. I feel his heartbeat beneath my fingers, his index and thumb coming to tilt my chin up. Our eyes meet.

"Always and forever, Little wolf." He whispers, breath tickling my cheek as he leans in to press a sweet, slow, and gentle kiss to my parted lips. — I feel my breath is stolen. I feel my chest is tightening.

When he pulls away, all I can muster is a weak nod, those five special words close to follow. My eyes close, our foreheads pressed together. "Always and Forever, My lover."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: this took way too fucking long to write cause sickle cell kept kicking my ass but it was soo worth the wait, genuinely think this is my best work. made niklaus the slightest bit bearable at the end because i’m still mad at actual niklaus’s actions. 😭

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 22

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn] (please read tags)

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GIW.

****

The holidays were strange, in a word.

Danny had never been a fan of Christmas, with his parents always too caught up in their work to get into the holiday spirit. And, sure, maybe some of that resentment over his parents doing the bare minimum or—on a few occasions—outright forgetting to celebrate Christmas had built up over the years. 

Sue him.

But it was weird this year. As Christmas approached, Jack came home one day with a few bags full of decorations. He then spent the rest of the afternoon putting lights outside.

The Fenton house had never had holiday lights before. But Danny’s fear of his father finding a way to set the house on fire overrode his excitement about the lights.

Before he knew it, nutcrackers and green wreaths decorated the house. The next day, Jack came home with a tree, and the whole family was ordered to decorate it with him. 

While they did have a tree most years, the last time they hung up ornaments as a family was…

Well, Danny didn’t remember when that was.

“Jazz, stop putting all the ornaments on the bottom branches,” Danny whined, batting her hand away as she attempted to put yet another ornament within the limited scope of Danny’s current reach. “That’s my territory.”

“Then hurry up, slowpoke!” she teased, nonetheless moving to a higher branch.

“So rude. Can’t believe you’re bullying me.”

“I moved it!”

“Mads?” Jack said, handing an ornament over to her.

Maddie had been quiet all evening. She wasn’t in her work jumpsuit either, and Danny wondered if she had spent the day at yet another meeting with their lawyer.

Curiosity was a sinister beast, and part of him wanted to ask his mom what else the lawyer could have possibly said. But considering the last conversation surrounding his zero protections against the Guys in White stalking him everywhere he went, maybe this wasn’t the time.

Jazz fiddled with the Christmas music, skipping over a particularly terrible cover of Feliz Navidad, before she plucked another ornament out of its box.

How depressing was it that Danny was sixteen years old and half of the ornaments they were hanging up were brand new?

“You’re all gonna love your gifts this year!” Jazz said brightly. “No spoilers, but I tried really hard!”

Maddie gave a weak smile. “I’m sure whatever you give will be great, honey.”

“Mine are gonna be bad. Sorry, online shopping only,” Danny said. “Also, I’m broke.”

That, and he’d forgotten that Christmas was—well—a thing.

Express shipping was truly a gift to humanity.

“It’s the thought that counts, Danno!” Jack said, putting that happy-dad mask back on his face. “That’s what I’ve always said!”

He had not always said that. His parents were typically too busy catching ghosts during the coldest months of the year to bother with the holiday season.

Which was fine. It was all just fine. Every family had different traditions, and Sam’s family didn’t even celebrate Christmas at all. But pretending this was suddenly a foundational holiday to the Fenton Family Tradition was ridiculous.

“No rest for the weary, son!” Jack said, placing another ornament in Danny’s lap.

“Sure, Dad.” Danny pushed himself back over to the lopsided tree. 

Jack turned to Maddie. “Your crazy sister is coming up, right?” 

“She’s not crazy, but yes.”

Jazz paused, her ornament dangling in the air. “Aunt Alicia’s coming?” 

“Yes.” Maddie’s gaze flickered to Danny for the briefest moment before settling back on Jazz. “We felt bad we were too busy to get together for Thanksgiving, so we extended the offer for Christmas.”

Danny could translate that well enough: We were too afraid of our mentally unstable son to travel for Thanksgiving.

Dancing around the truth felt almost worse than his parents just openly admitting what a disappointment he was.

No, that was exactly the sort of negative thinking that would rouse suspicion. Not that he had anything to hide, of course. He was a model outpatient kid now.

They continued hanging up the holiday ornaments to the chorus of terrible Christmas tunes that had Jack and Jazz singing along and Danny trying to keep his ears from bleeding. Perfect pitch—or any kind of pitch, for that matter—clearly didn’t come in the Fenton genetic coding.

When they finished, Jack attached a green star on top and plugged the lights into the wall, turning their ornament-bloated tree into an LSD-induced fever dream.

But Danny still couldn’t get it out of his head that Alicia was coming here. Why wouldn’t they go down to Spittoon like they always did?

Maybe they were worried about his wheelchair? Which would have been even more of a reason to give Danny his powers back. Or, maybe because Alicia’s community was anti-ghost?

…yeah. Danny thought back to that old community of closed-off people. Them being anti-halfa was probably the most likely scenario.

His suspicions were more or less confirmed that evening as he floated invisibly in the hall, too lazy to use his wheelchair to go to the bathroom. Jazz, the only perceptive one in the house, was already asleep, so there was no fear of getting caught. The light was still on in his parents’ room, however. Their sleep schedules were almost as bad as Danny’s.

Danny pressed a hand to the bathroom door, about to slip through the wood, when he heard the unmistakable mutter of, “...Danny…” from their room.

His parents were talking about him. Again. If he were smart, he would have ignored it. He already knew what they truly thought about him. There was no need to ruin his night.

But, in fact, he was not smart. So he drifted closer till he was pressing an ear to the door and fighting the impulse to stick his head inside.

“...a good idea?” Jack was asking.

“She’s my sister, hon,” Maddie responded. “Besides, you know what the therapist said about isolating Danny.”

There was a sharp huff from Jack. “I know, Mads. I know she’s been concerned about those patterns reemerging, but it’s one thing to encourage Danny to connect with his classmates and another to invite Alicia into our house.”

“Whatever issues you two have—”

“This isn’t about me!” Jack hissed, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. “I’ve put up with all sorts of talk from her over the years. You’ve seen it! It’s not about me, it’s about our son.”

“She said she was willing to try.”

“Trying isn’t good enough, Mads. I know you two don’t see each other often, and I don’t want to keep you from her, but she can’t step one foot in this home if she’s going to even think about disrespecting Danny.”

There was a brief silence as Jack’s words hung in the air. Then, Danny heard the duvet on the bed shift, a heavy sigh accompanying it. 

“I know.” Maddie’s voice was so quiet, Danny almost didn’t pick it up. “I’ll call her tomorrow, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too.”

The light switched off, and their conversation was finished.

Danny stayed floating in the hallway for some time. So…Alicia hated him now. She thought he was a freak. She thought he was better off back with the Guys in White. And now she was coming here, staying overnight at their house. Perfect. Wonderful. Awesome.

Danny hoped he had enough painkillers to last through her stay.

****

Jazz was going to school early. She needed to do the winter orientation and get acclimated to the city. She was also doing some volunteer tutoring for the kids in the area and wanted to complete the training before the semester started.

Danny had known this. He was fine with it, Jazz, quit asking for his opinion about it.

It was like she thought he was a dandelion about to drift off with the slightest breeze. But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t. 

He wasn’t some child who couldn’t exist without his "big sis"  holding his hand. He was sixteen and had people like his therapists and his best friends to rely on. Of course, he hadn’t talked to his friends about Jazz leaving yet. And although his therapist had brought up the topic a few times now, they hadn’t really talked about it too deeply.

But that was only because there really wasn’t anything to say. Jazz was leaving, and that was that.

“You’re sure?” Jazz asked. “There’s really nothing?”

Nothing? Huh?

Right, there was nothing he wanted from her. Nothing he wanted to do with her. No bucket-list items. He’d already demanded too much from her. She even deferred an entire semester of her dream college because of him. 

So why was she asking if there was anything he wanted to do with her before the holidays were over? Why was she wasting her time?

“I’m sure. Not like I can really get around easily, anyway.” Danny slumped back on the couch.

“Danny, I’m sure we can find some wheelchair-friendly things—”

“That—that’s not what I meant.” Despite his best efforts, he felt his face flush. Or, maybe it was partially what he meant. Who knew anymore, with the way his TBI liked to scramble all his thoughts? “I meant that—with the paparazzi…”

“Okay, then we can dress incognito!” Jazz said. “Come on, not even a trip to the movies? It would be fun!”

“You hate horror movies,” Danny pointed out.

“Did you forget about, oh, I don’t know, every single other genre of film out there? Would it kill you to switch it up for an hour?”

“Yes. It absolutely would.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Come on, Danny. For me?”

And there were those big eyes and clasped hands that had defeated Danny so many times before. Really, how was he supposed to say no to his sister when she pulled her trump card like this? 

So unfair.

“Fine! Fine, you can dress me up in a stupid wig or whatever and we can go see one of your dumb movies before you leave. But if we get caught…”

“We won’t!” Jazz grabbed his arm, apparently too excited to contain herself.

She almost looked like the old Jazz, the Jazz that didn’t have to worry about her little brother staying out of the hospital.

Maybe focusing on other things would be good for her. Maybe it was time for her to get away. Maybe she needed this sense of normalcy again.

Maybe it was time to let her go.

Before Danny could ponder that thought any longer, the door swung open with enough force to nearly plow through the wall. 

“Aunt Alicia!” Jazz scrambled from the couch. “Welcome!”

“Jazz!” Alicia stepped through the interior, her suitcase in hand. A green coat had been thrown over her overalls and plaid T-shirt, and she shed it as soon as she stepped through the threshold.  

Jazz hugged her. “Good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit!”

It was true. No matter how old Alicia got, her red mullet and bulldog-like features stuck around.

“I can’t say the same about you!” Alicia pulled Jazz away, surveying her up and down with a grin. “Look at you, your hair’s so long now. And have you grown?”

“Not since I was like thirteen!” 

Maddie peeked over their shoulders. “I can take your suitcase to the guest room.”

“Nonsense!” Alicia barked. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here. I remember where it is just fine!”

“Don’t worry, Alicia,” Jack said, getting up from the couch. “Go catch up with the kids! I’ll bring your stuff upstairs.”

As usual, Alicia hesitated at Jack’s offer, looking him over as if he were three feet tall and made of fool’s gold.

“Thank you, Jack!” Maddie snatched the suitcase and coat from her sister’s arms and passed them off to Jack, who quickly disappeared upstairs. She ushered Alicia into the living room. “Come, sit. It was a long flight. Would you like anything to drink? We have both red and white wine somewhere in the cabinets—oh, the white hasn’t been chilled.”

Danny sat rigid on the couch, the cushions suddenly feeling hard underneath him. His brain registered a strange pressure on his thighs, and he glanced down to see his hands gripping his legs. He let go, allowing his arms to fall awkwardly to his sides, and when he looked back up, he saw how Alicia was slowly lowering herself onto an armchair, leering at him like he was some sort of alien at Area 51.

That wasn’t even a far-off comparison to make. He was the alien. Only, instead of being located in the desert, Area 51 was his damn living room.

“What would you like, Alicia?” Maddie called from the kitchen.

Alicia blinked. “Huh? Oh, whatever light beer you have is fine.”

“I’ll see what we have.”

Jazz hopped back on the couch next to Danny, stretching out like she did after returning home from a run. “How was the flight?”

“Long. It’s cold up here,” Alicia said, frowning at the window.

“It’s been a mild winter so far,” Jazz said.

“Mild to you, maybe. I haven’t been outside of Arkansas in…well, since the last time I was here, actually. When was that, six years ago?” 

“Eight,” Danny said, his memory—usually so full of holes—surprising even himself. He stared at the ground, not wanting to see Alicia’s reaction to his alien voice. “I was eight. My dad tried to play Santa and—and fell on the tree.”

Silence lapsed in the room, and Danny risked glancing up to see Alicia’s inquisitive face once again turned on him, nodding slowly. “Right, I remember that.”

“Oh god, I’d forgotten!” Jazz laughed as if the air weren’t awkward enough to cut with a chainsaw. “Mom was so pissed!”

“Till I got the whiskey in her.” Alicia winked.

Winked. 

Danny, thankfully, didn’t drop his jaw.

It…was okay? He wasn’t a disgusting little cockroach then, infesting this human home with his gross ecto-blood?

It was naive to hope that someone accepted him for what he was. He knew that. He’d been let down too many times in the past. But still, he couldn’t help it, the desperation leaking into him, lifting him up, straightening his spine. He couldn’t stop that pang of longing from stabbing through him. 

And of course, it was stupid, because as soon as Danny’s wide eyes made contact with Alicia’s, a frown appeared back on her face.

Though, only momentarily, as it was broken by Maddie stepping into the living room a second later with a beer can in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. “This alright?”

“Looks fine to me!” Alicia said.

“You’re all set!” Jack called, bounding down the stairs. “Oh, you ladies having drinks?”

“Of course we are!” Alicia said. “Jazz, you’re old enough, aren’t you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Jazz said.

“Plenty old enough! Maddie, get her a glass of something too.”

Maddie pursed her lips at Jazz.

“I’m going to college soon anyway, Mom,” Jazz pointed out.

Maddie sighed. “Fine, one glass.”

Jazz shot a smug smile at Danny, who was only a tiny bit jealous. Not that he could drink with all the medication he was on, anyway. But a glass of something to diffuse whatever tension he was causing through the horrible crime of existing sounded great.

Well, worst-case scenario, he always had the bottle of pills in his backpack. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t already taken something before this. 

For the pain, of course. 

“You excited for Harvard?” Alicia asked, snapping Danny from his rumination. 

“So excited!” Jazz responded.

“Smart girl! I always knew you’d get there. I remember Maddie calling me all worried when you were applying, saying stuff about how hard it was to get into, and I told her not to worry one bit! I said that girl’s something special, she is. Smartest of the bunch! I said she’d show up every other applicant in the pool!”

“That she did! My Jazzypants kicked some major butt out there! We’re very proud of her,” Jack said.

Alicia only looked a little bitter that Jack had spoken to her before turning her attention back to her favorite niece. “Have you thought at all about what you want to study?”

“Psychology,” Jazz replied easily. “I got a five in AP Psych in high school.”

“That’s the top score,” Maddie explained.

Alicia beamed. “See, Maddie? They’re lucky to have such a bright young woman in their program!”

They were. They really were.

With Jazz now only weeks away from leaving, these conversations had become more and more commonplace with people they met. And Danny was happy for Jazz, and he was a little glad that the spotlight wasn’t on him all the time, but with each new mention of Jazz leaving came a new realization that Jazz was leaving.

“They are definitely,” Maddie said. Glancing at Danny, she added, “We’re very proud of both of our kids. They’ve both worked so hard this year.”

Oh, no.

Now Alicia’s attention was fully back on him. Back on his oversized sweatshirt, his plain sweatpants, his mussed-up hair that he couldn’t remember if he’d combed that morning. He felt just like when Plasmius assessed him for the first time. Tiny, like an ant being crushed under the overwhelming force of a large boot.

Just from the way her eyes squinted as she surveyed him up and down, Danny could tell that she didn’t know if she wanted to give him a fake positive answer or spit in his face. And with every microsecond she continued her internal assessment, he felt the weight of her metaphorical boot crushing him further and further into the ground.

“Yup, Danno’s been getting those grades up!” Jack carried on, his commentary doing little to settle the atmosphere. “He’s got a real knack for science, too!”

Hardly.

And, judging by Alicia’s narrowing eyes, she was certainly thinking of a different kind of science anyway. The kind that involved strapping ghosts to lab tables and cutting them open. 

Still, he tried his best to go with it. “Well, when you live with my parents, it’s hard not to pick up a thing or two along the—um, way…”

Oh no. He had definitely made it worse.

Okay, time to flip the script back onto the favorite kid. “But Jazz is really better at all that stuff. She was in AP Bio last year and aced it too.”

“I didn’t ace it, Danny.”

“A ninety-two is still acing it in my book.”

Jazz’s face was red, though Danny could see the glowing pride that she was currently trying to bury. “Well, college is going to be harder than a high school class, you know!”

“And—and Danny? You’re in school too?” Alicia spoke up.

Suddenly, Danny felt small all over again. “Oh—uh, yeah. I am.”

Only for half of the day, and not in any general education classroom. But saying that out loud would have been too embarrassing. It would have just proved to Alicia that the media was right and he wasn’t able to function like a normal teenager doing normal teenage things, like going to class.

“Danny’s been working very hard to catch up,” Maddie said, offering her most loving and supportive smile, which Danny was sure had to be an act. “Especially after everything, he’s really putting such great effort into his classes.”

“So…Danny…” Alicia tried, shifting her beer can from one hand to the other. She pursed her lips, and Danny wondered what words she could possibly be searching for before she opened her mouth and said, “What do you plan on doing after high school?”

It was such a banal question that Danny almost thought that Alicia was being genuine. But then her voice echoed in his head just once more, and Danny could hear the underlying tones of curiosity and…scorn? 

Or was he reading too far into her?

“Um…” Danny shifted his gaze between Jazz and his parents. “Well…I’d like to—to work for NASA. I think.”

Alicia sucked her teeth. “NASA, huh? That’s certainly a reach. Doing what, exactly?”

Danny shrugged. He’d wanted to be an astronaut before all this. But now that he had more health conditions than he probably knew? 

Yeah. Fat chance.

“I don’t know. I just like space. I know it’ll be difficult, but…”

“Are you kidding, son? All the space agencies will be bidding on having a kid like you work for them.” Jack raised his glass, grinning. “You know how much money it’ll save them to have an astronaut who doesn’t need a space suit?”

Danny winced at Jack’s brazen reference to his ghost half, but thankfully Alicia had done little more than quirk a brow. 

“And Danny’s really handy at working our dad’s gadgets, too,” Jazz said. “I’ve been saying for years that he’d make an awesome mechanical engineer.”

“Yeah, well…” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll see what happens.”

“But you do wanna go to college?” Alicia asked.

“I mean, I think so? Why?” 

“Well, I would have assumed you would have wanted to keep doing that ghost-fighting Phantom business.”

Ah. So they were talking about this now.

Danny had never felt so put under a microscope in his life. He would take another round of paparazzi interrogation over whatever this was.

Was it hot in this room for anyone else? Or just him?

“I—I don’t—” 

He caught Jazz’s eye, who thankfully came to his rescue. “Danny does that as a sort of community service. He doesn’t make any money off of it or anything.”

Alicia, for once, looked genuinely surprised. “No? Not even on your social media? I thought all you kids were making pocket money on social media nowadays.”

Danny had to suppress a guffaw. “Um, well, I couldn’t exactly link my bank account to my social media before all this went down. I—I guess I never really thought about that. I probably could now, but…I don’t—I don’t know. It’d feel wrong.”

“Huh, well I’ll be.” Alicia leaned back in her chair. “I’ll admit, kid, you certainly never cease to surprise me.”

He had no idea if he was supposed to thank her or be offended by that.

“As I said, we’re very proud of both of our kids,” Maddie said. She sipped her wine, giving a slight nod of approval to her sister as she did.

“The world is definitely changing. That’s for sure,” Alicia mused.

Danny let out a silent breath, supposing that was about as good as it would get from her. She was an old-fashioned woman from an old-fashioned community. Danny would almost certainly be second place to Jazz in this woman’s eyes for the rest of her life, but considering that he seemed to be lower than dirt to most of the public, Alicia not considering him the favorite was hardly the worst place to exist. 

So long as she didn’t show up with a gun and try to kill him, Danny could take a dose of skeptical comments here and there from her.

****

As usual, Danny woke up on Christmas Day with a foreboding sense of dread coursing through his body.

Although, this year, he couldn’t figure out why. Surely, he had undergone far worse things this year than surviving Christmas. But still, he couldn’t help but let that old resentment linger. And when the realization that he’d need to get out of bed hit him, he was half-wondering if he should just feign ill to avoid his family for the rest of the day. His parents would almost certainly believe him, with his long list of medications he dutifully took every day. Though, Jazz would be able to tell he was bullshitting.

He had to get out of bed, it seemed. But he would let himself take a little white pill first…

When the pain in his chest lessened and his limbs felt light once again, Danny was finally able to take his first real breath today. Maybe everything would be okay, and they would eat good food together, and make good conversation, and everyone would be happy.

Yeah. That would be nice.

He grabbed his walker and headed downstairs. Soon, he would be using forearm crutches. He’d tried a pair out at his last PT appointment and was surprised at just how much more convenient they were than a walker. He hadn’t been able to use them without the support of two adults bracing him, sure, but even just the taste of a smaller walking device rather than the bulky wheelchair and walker that he was currently using was more than a little tantalizing.

If he mastered the crutches, he could go on stairs. He wouldn’t be living the rest of his life under the constraints of elevators and—heaven forbid—stairlifts. 

He knew logically that there was nothing wrong with using those tools. Other people who needed stairlifts and elevators should use them judgment-free. But there was something wrong with him needing those things. 

Because he was Phantom.

And that was the key difference.

Pride at the forefront of his mind, he abandoned his stairlift in favor of trudging down the stairs at a painfully slow pace. He knew Aunt Alicia was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and he hoped that she could see just how much he was trying. No matter how weak and helpless the Guys in White wanted him to be, he wasn’t.

“Danno!” his father called once he’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “He’s finally awake!”

A little more breathless than he wanted to show, Danny meekly turned around to see his father in a full Santa suit, fake beard and all. 

“Merry Christmas!” Jack said.

Oh, that was right. His dad was his dad. “Merry Christmas.”

Jazz sauntered over to him and plopped a Santa hat atop his head.

“Hey!” Danny glared. He couldn’t risk letting go of his walker to bat the hat away. 

Her eyes sparkled impishly in return. “Just passing along the festive spirit!”

“Hi, sweetie!” Maddie said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Look at all the presents that I—Santa—delivered to these good children!” Jack puffed out his chest and pointed toward the now sufficiently stocked Christmas tree.

“Oh my god, Dad.” Danny almost cringed to death. “You don’t have to—”

“Of course I do, sonny boy! It’s all about getting into the Christmas spirit! Ho, ho, ho!”

“I’m going to puke.”

“Hah!” Alicia barked a laugh, her cheeks rosy.

Danny eyed her eggnog suspiciously.

“Not much for the Santa stuff, huh, kid?” 

“Not really,” Danny responded. “My parents never really did this stuff before, either.”

“There’s always time to start new traditions, honey!” Maddie responded, taking a sip of her eggnog as well. Like Alicia, her eyes seemed a little too bright for the morning.

His legs sufficiently shaking, Danny wasted no time in following his family over to the kitchen where a giant spread of food fit for a family of ten was waiting for him. 

“Good timing, by the way! If you hadn’t come down soon, I would have come wake you up,” Maddie said, stowing his walker off to the side once he’d gotten settled in his chair. “Brunch is ready. Juice?”

“Sure.”

“God, it’s been ages since we’ve had a Christmas together. Hasn’t it, Mads?” Alicia asked.

“I know!” Maddie closed the cupboard, glass in hand, and opened the fridge for the orange juice carton. “Not since Dad was still around.”

“I miss that old geezer.”

“He was a good man!” Jack agreed.

For once, Alicia didn’t bite his head off for speaking to her directly, likely too under the influence to care. “I’ve been trying to figure out how he makes that smoked brisket, but I’ve never quite mastered it.”

“You’ve gotten pretty close!” Maddie said.

“Mads, you’re just saying that ‘cause you have the palate of a toddler,” Alicia ribbed. Lowering her voice, she said to Jazz, though loud enough for everyone to overhear anyway, “Your mother’s a lot of things, but a chef is not one of them. One time when we were teens, she damn near burned the house down making toast. Toast! Who the hell does that?”

Maddie laughed, placing the orange juice and this morning’s dose of medication in front of Danny.

“Our neighbor thought the house was gonna burn down and called 911! The fire department showed up and everything!” Alicia pounded the table with her fist, howling laughter overtaking her.

Everyone else was also in stitches. Everyone aside from Danny, that was, who was trying to down his meds as quickly as possible so as not to let Alicia get a glimpse of the cocktail of pills he’d been prescribed. 

He’d only just gotten her as an ally. There was no need to remind her that he was actually a mutant freak.

“That was a long time ago!” Maddie countered through her chuckles. “I’ve improved since then!”

“Okay, that’s fair. Although, I still did most of the handiwork today.”

“You cooked all this?” Danny asked, eyeing the pans of quiche, cinnamon buns, and bacon.

He was so thankful that of all the things the government had ruined for him, the smell of bacon was not one of them.

“Most of it! Your mom helped me some.”

“Well, let’s not dillydally!” Jack ripped off his hat—taking the beard with it—and tucked it off to the side. “Dig in!”

For once, Danny actually let himself enjoy the meal. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, this new spark of energy that there hadn’t been before. The laughter constantly emanating from the table, the warm, inviting smells of good food, the rambunctious chatter popcorning off the walls of the kitchen. It had been so long since Danny had felt like his home was truly a home. But today, at this moment, he could genuinely feel some of that cold begin to thaw, and he could almost forget that his parents were designing a chip to control his core, that Alicia secretly hated his ghost half, that Jazz was going to leave him soon.

Almost.

But not quite.

The loud conversation made it hard for him to follow along sometimes. Especially under all the drugs, his brain had a habit of zoning out mid-conversation, and when he’d blink back into the chatter a moment later, he’d be missing some key information and would have to scramble to catch back up. His loose limbs helped the pain go away, but the dizzying side effects made him noticeably slow and clumsy with his fork. The first time his fork slipped through his fingers and fell onto his plate, he laughed it off with a comment about the Fenton Butterfingers Curse. The second time he dropped his fork? Well, that was a pattern.

One that he didn’t want Alicia to catch onto.

But that aside, the breakfast was good. It was wholesome. It was proof that they were really a family. A true, loving family. One that did family things like celebrate Christmas together.

At least, that was what he could pretend.

After they finished dishes, they opened gifts. He had actually tried—somewhat—with the little money he could scrape together this year. He’d long since understood that his parents loved their practical gifts, so he got his dad a pack of metal screws, and his mom a new pair of winter gloves. For Alicia, he got her some cleaning supplies for her gun collection. 

For his sister, he managed to find a notebook with little green ghosts on the cover, and the excited hug she’d given him seemed genuine enough. That, along with the promise that she would use it in her psych class next semester. 

“Only if—if you want,” Danny ducked his head.

“Of course I want, Danny!” Jazz playfully batted his shoulder. “Now, it’ll be like you’re right there with me every time I go to study!”

Danny tried his best to shove down the heat that threatened to overtake his cheeks. His sister could be such a dork when she wanted to be.

Although Danny wasn’t expecting much in return—his family had never really given big gifts before—his parents had genuinely left him speechless with theirs. 

At first, it was because he had no idea what the gift was supposed to be. 

“Press that button right there,” Jack said, pointing vaguely at the two small metal contraptions in Danny’s hands.

“Where?” Danny asked.

“Right on the side!” Jack said. “There’s a button on each of them.”

Danny felt around the sides of one of the sleek tubes for a button, and sure enough, when he pressed it, the tube expanded into a full-sized metal forearm crutch with black and green accents. 

Danny couldn’t help but let his eyes widen as he expanded the next one too. “Oh, whoa. Wow.”

“We know you don’t have your ghost form back right now, hon, but when you do, you’re not going to want to carry around anything bulky when you switch back and forth,” Maddie explained. “We didn’t think the current crutch designs were compact enough, so we’ve been working on these ones for the past few weeks. You just press the button and they’ll collapse back into their tubes that you can shove in your backpack or store wherever you need.”

Danny turned the crutches around in his fingers, his brain already buzzing at all the opportunities this would give him. Now, he didn’t have to worry if his Phantom form got tired. He could just switch back. Well, as soon as he figured out how to use the crutches, that was. But he could go outside now! And if he got good enough, he could even use them at school!

The thought of not being half the height of his classmates anymore was enough for his lips to curl up in a smile. “Wow, thanks.” He looked up at his parents, not sure if he’d managed to suppress the green glint in his eyes, and not exactly caring either way. “This—this is going to change so much. Holy—wow. Thank you.”

His dad slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Course, son! Gotta make sure you’re all set up now, don’t we?”

The rest of the gifts were doled out, and though Danny had collapsed the crutches back into their tubes, he refused to let them part with his hands. They stayed curled in his fists until long after all the wrapping paper had been cleared from the floor, his dad took a break from the festivities to disappear into the basement, and his mom and aunt made their way into the kitchen to drink more eggnog and chat about the good old days.

The tree lights gave the room a warm glow, warping around the ornaments and bubbling the walls with splashes of yellow. It was cozy, and for maybe the first time in his life, Danny understood why people liked having Christmas trees in their homes.

“Hey, Danny?” Jazz asked.

Danny turned to see her eyes trained on the fake fire flickering on the television.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you gonna be okay? You know, when I go off to school?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny asked, but his voice didn’t have the bite he had intended.

Maybe it was the warmth in the room. Maybe it was his fatigue hitting him. 

Maybe it was the odd guilt clawing in the pit of his stomach.

“I just…” Jazz huffed. 

“Jazz, you need to go to school,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll—I’m fine. Seriously.”

Jazz didn’t look convinced.

“I’m really happy you…you stayed. But I’m healing, I got Mom and Dad and my friends. I have the—the therapists. You know? I—I’ll be fine.”

Jazz nodded slowly. 

But Danny could still see the fear in her eyes.

“Why?” he asked, turning it back on her.

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be bringing this up now, but I know you’re still holding back with…everything. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to bottle stuff up just because I won’t be around anymore.”

“I’m not bottling anything up,” Danny countered. At her look, he amended. “Okay, I’m bottling a few things up. But—but really, Jazz, the big stuff? I promise I’ve talked about. I’m just adjusting still.”

“You promise?” Jazz asked, her teal eyes wide with hope. 

The nothingburger his lies had been now felt like a thousand pounds on his shoulders, but he knew that if he said no, then Jazz would never be able to be present at school. That she’d be too afraid to make close friends, commit to a club, or enjoy her new life because she would always have one hand on her phone waiting for a call from Maddie, or worse, the police. 

So Danny put on the most reassuring, loving expression he could as he uttered the words that nailed the metaphorical coffin shut: “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

****

previous / next

****

Thank you to @imekitty and @astatia-ghast for the beta work! Also huge thank you to @bibliophilea for helping me get over my insane writer's block with this chapter. I owe y'all for real 🙏

[shadyshaylee114]

Orc x minotaur x oc

Zephyr and Vasileios watched the little human female stumble thru their labyrinth her soft brown hair was laced with flowers while they couldn't see her face with her back turn she was dorned with a long white dress. Zephyr looked at Vasileios the minotaur stood atleast a foot taller then the young orc his fur pitch black the only real color on Vasileios being the gold septum piercing he had earned before being placed in the labyrinth.

"They probably threw the poor thing in here as a sacrifice as they have the others before her. We can lead her out as always." Zephyr stated. Vasileios laid his pale blue eyes on the young orc who had sworn loyalty to him ages ago when he still only had two tusk now the forest green orc was alittle over 6ft tall with four tusk and well earned warrior marking dorning his skin. Zephyr's gold eyes looked at him for his guidance and wisdom on what to do with the young woman. But when he looked at the young woman again a sense of longing filled him, the urge to take the female back to their lair and dourn her with the jewels and furs they had earned over there years.

"No, not yet lets see what she does first." Vasileios found himself saying hoping that the longer they watched either his urge would go away or Zephyr would also get the same instinct.

Aria sighed, unaware of the 2 pairs of eyes watching her every move. The village was going to sacrifice one of the children into the labyrinth. Knowing the tales of the monsters who ruled the area and how ruthless they were rumored to be. She couldn't believe they'd do something so awful, but fear made people into fools. Aria knew that better than anyone. Shaking the darker thoughts from her mind Aria smiled brightly she'd made it through worse situations then be stuck in a labyrinth with some beast aslong as she moved and left it alone hopefully it'd return the favor. She quickly picked a direction, hoping it'd lead her to an exit.

Zephyr couldn't believe it. Vasileios had never let a mortal walk the labyrinth this was their home, and he didn't take kindly to strangers being inside. He always got them out as fast as they had entered. Zephyr looked back at the little female who had started to make her way deeper inside she was attractive for a mortal, but they had plenty of pretty females thrown in as sacrifice, which made this one different. Sure, her curvy body was a site to behold, and the way she smiled softly even at the roughest portions of the labyrinth was enough to steal a man or monsters breath. Zephyr cursed in his native tongue, realizing why him and his brother were truly drawn to the female she was there's or at least she would be. A true mate while Zephyr and Vasileios where both honorable and deserving of gifts a true mate was something not given lightly.

This is later on in the story but since this accidently posted I wanted to share a small smut part. At this point Vasileios and Zephyr have decided to collect there female she had fallen asleep and they are talking on there way back to. There home.

"She's so small Vasileios." Zephyr stated as they began to walk towards there lair. Vasileios chuckled understanding what the young orc was thinking. How was she going to take one of them let alone both.

"That's where we get to enjoy ourselves the most Zeph we get to make sure she's stretched, wet, and needy enough for use that no other thought then taking us will consume her." Vasileios groaned out the images flashing thru his thoughts. Wondering what color her closed eyes hid and what they would look like brimming with tears as she begged for more even though she was much to sensitive, from cumming on both his and zephyr's fingers and tongues.

[traumaboyexo]

CIRCLES UPON CIRCLES: DOWNHILL

[[[Hey look more fanfic writing for the au called Circles Upon Circles by @ivipl1. This time about my fav character in this au, the lovable intern Ted Italics! Ted I love you please answer my calls]]]

You lie awake, staring up at the shining stars. Watching each of them chatter, scream, shout, swoon. Every single one, almost more insufferable than the last. Every single one, a cluster of disorderly madness driving you insane.

At least you're not doing it in a pool of your own blood.

At least you aren't suffering. Ripped apart again and again. Crushed by weights or bitten by beasts. No pain. Not a one. Your body free of scars and your mind released of agony.

It could be so much worse.

You could be them. The ones who are torn apart. The ones forced to be wise. The ones forced to be amongst the fools. The director who sees the script while dancing with the actors. A burning bloody violent world for each and every single one of them.

How lucky you are. To watch as the people are thrown to the wolves, to watch from above, so safe, so far away, so alone. It's so fantastic that you have this job. Don't you feel grateful? Don't you feel so utterly filled with joy? To know your life shall never become like that? To never have to feel the horrid sensation of death?

To be rid of the nightmares. The wishing. The falling. The failing. The guilt. The time. The walk. The run. The fight. Rid of it all.

You're practically living in a pleasant dream.

A dream that will never end.

Why do you cry? Why do you yearn? Why do you crave?

You don't truly wish to be amongst those riff-raff, do you? The scum, the unfortunate. You used to be one of them. You know the madness. You've seen it firsthand, you've felt it firsthand. And you've said you'd give anything to forget it. To get a new pair of eyes, to replace your broken nerves.

You don't really believe that these happy endings mean anything, do you? That they matter? That these lives or actions or events hold any weight?

The routine is all the same.

To be crushed. To wake. To cycle through and discover. To go forward and backwards. To be annoyed and to be frustrated. To befriend and to bond. To lie and scream. And then, to be together.

All of it nonsense. All of it seen again and again and again. Like an awful cliché.

Just a blip. A blip in your eternity. A blip in your part to play. All of them end the same. All of them are nearly identical. All of them suffer. All of them burn. All of them die. And live. And fall. And smile.

...are you not happy that your life is worth more than theirs?

And then you realise why you cry.

Because you're alone. Not a single friend is with you. Not a single companion to share your burden.

Because there's nobody with you. Because there's no one to smile with. Or laugh with. Or cry with.

It's just you. Alone. With the distant employer you call the Universe.

Not a drop of blood. Not a person in sight.

How long as it been since you'd had a bit of company? That you had someone to talk to that wasn't the insanity of the stars? Someone you could even relate to?

...you can barely remember.

...

Would anyone even hear you?

If you screamed aloud, at the top of your pitiful lungs, into the abyss of space and time, would anyone's ears catch even the slightest of a whisper of it?

If they did, would they care?

...

...perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to try.

...YOU HATE IT ALL. YOU HATE THIS PITIFUL EXISTENCE THAT'S CLAIMED TO BE A LIFE, A GIFT. TO COMPENSATE AS THE "FIRST".

A WRETCHED JOB THAT COMES WITH NOTHING BUT REGRET, JEALOUSY AND SOLITUDE.

YOU ARE BUT AN INTERN. FORCED TO DO THE TASKS NOBODY ELSE WISHES TO PERFORM. UNPAID, UNAPPRECIATED. NOT EVEN A "THANK YOU" TO BE GIVEN OR GIFTED. WITH NO BENEFITS, BUT THE CURSE OF ETERNAL EXISTENCE.

AND EVERYDAY IT BECOMES HARDER TO FIGHT OFF THE ENROACHING MADNESS. TO STOP YOURSELF FROM CURLING INTO A BALL AND GIVING UP. TO STOP YOURSELF FROM TRYING TO RIP INTO YOUR OWN SKULL. YOUR OWN AUGMENTATION FOR SKIN AND FLESH AND BONES. HOPING FOR ANYWAY OUT. HOPING FOR THE DAY IT ALL ENDS.

MAY EVERY WORLD BURN TO NOTHING BUT ASHES AND CINDER. MAY EVERY WORLD CRUMBLE AND CRACK AND DIE. MAY EVERY HAPPY ENDING YOU'VE BLESSED GROW SOUR, BITTER AND COLD. MAY EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU BE DEVOURED WHOLE, MAY EVERY SINGLE FAMILY FREEZE AND LEFT TO ROT. MAY ALL THE VOICES FADE INTO SILENCE AND BURN UP LIKE THE STARS THEY WERE MEANT TO BE.

MAYBE THEN THEY'LL KNOW. YOUR WRATH, YOUR ANGER, THE UNJUST NATURE OF YOUR VERY BEING. TO START AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL, FORCED TO WATCH EVERYONE ELSE CLIMB AND REACH THE PEAK AND PLANT THEIR FLAG OF VICTORY.

MAY ALL UNIVERSES CEASE TO BE! MAY ALL ENDINGS BE CURSED! AND MAY ALL SUFFERING LAST ETERNAL! MAY ALL DIRECTORS LOSE THEIR EYES AND BE BLIND FOREVER!

MAY IT ALL BE FOR NOTHING FOR IT TO MEAN SOMETHING TO ME!

...well, that's probably what you'd shout anyways.

You wouldn't know for certain.

You've never been one for long boring monologues.

Back to work.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

BG3 Halloweek Day 2 Classic Horror Movie AU: Frankenstein

Full credit to @gufu-vire for this fun idea and all her help and encouragement ☺️

-

Fleagore wasn't very smart. He knew this because Master Mephistopheles told him often, and Master Mephistopheles was very smart indeed. It suited Fleagore just fine. He followed orders obediently: go here, fetch that. Easy. No real thinking required. Sometimes, though, Fleagore was given more complicated tasks - or, worse still, tasks he didn't like.

Deep in the bowels of Cania Palace, where even the most demented, tortured souls feared to linger, Master Mephistopheles’ creature lay tied down on the slab, as usual - being pieced together like a puzzle, its womb this secret laboratory of sinister science and Infernal ego. Inert, he said the creature was. Dead, for all intents and purposes, but Fleagore couldn't shake the feeling that the thing was more alive than Master Mephistopheles believed. Its large, piercing yellow eyes seemed to stare at Fleagore from the sunken sockets of its three twisted skulls, even if they didn't move. It was always watching. Aware of all the terrible things Fleagore was doing to it as Master Mephistopheles put it together. Brought it to life. Like snapping ribs of obsidian and fire to access the hollow of its chest cavity so that Master Mephistopheles could imbue it with his sickly green magicks. Or skinning segments of its long, whip-like tail so that Master Mephistopheles could shave and sharpen its bones.

Fleagore usually enjoyed tormenting things, especially things uglier than him, but the malice and intelligence he thought he could see in this abomination's eyes - like it was cataloging each iota of pain they were inflicting upon it with the promise of returning it all, tenfold - made Fleagore uncomfortable. But he wasn't very smart, so what did he know? Don't think. Just connect the contraptions of tubes and bronze and glass like he'd been taught and watch souls and electricity course through the creature's large body.

The thing twitched and convulsed. Flames erupted beneath its blackened obsidian flesh. Dim at first, steadily picking up volume. Master Mephistopheles watched with disinterest from afar - until something else happened. Something new. The creature made a sound. It began quietly, a rattling whine like metal scraping on stone, setting Fleagore's jaw after the brief shock wore off. Master Mephistopheles didn't seem at all surprised. His cold eyes gleamed with anticipation, a thin smile spreading across his face as that grating whine deepend into an unearthly bellow. So loud that Fleagore covered his ears. A truly terrible roar full of terror and rage.

“Master?” Fleagore queried, nervous as the beast began to violently thrash. The thick infernal iron restraints keeping it down creaked and strained against its strength. Screws popped and pulled and clattered to the floor. It was going to escape. “Should Fleagore get the prod, Master?”

“No,” said Mephistopheles. He didn't even glance at poor Fleagore.

Metal bent and gave way. The creature had managed to free one long, gnarled arm, clawing and ripping at the remaining restraints. Its tattered wings beat wildly. It shook its three skulls side to side, slobber drooling from its tusked maws, uncanny eyes rolling.

“Mmmmmaster,” stammered Fleagore, “shouldn't we -”

“I said no,” snarled Mephistopheles, and he frightened Fleagore more than the angry abomination, so he cowered obediently and watched with dread as the thing snapped its last restraints and staggered off the slab.

It stumbled, at first - it had never stood upright or walked before - but it found its balance quickly. Each thud of its big burning hoof-like feet were heavy. It collected itself, its bearings, breathing in slow growling pants. Its tail whipped madly. Then it turned its horrible heads to focus on the two watching it.

Focus on Fleagore.

In that moment he knew he'd been right. Fleagore felt the beast's hatred for him, its desire for vengeance. Felt its desire to hurt and maim him. Fleagore only had a few seconds to consider that, however, because the monster launched itself at him faster than something its size should ever be able to move. He had no chance to run.

“Master!” Shrieked Fleagore. He wriggled desperately in the thing's grip, but he was trapped. Its cruel claws sank deep, squeezed hard, cracking bones and tearing skin. It glared down at him, and Fleagore knew he was despised. The thing's hot fetid breath washed over Fleagore's face. “Master, help!”

But Mephistopheles was not going to help Fleagore. He was going to watch his fresh creation butcher an expendable minion. He was going to watch the first display of his creature's brutality with satisfaction, because this was what he'd built it for, after all.

“At last,” purred the Arch Devil, Lord Without Mercy. “He is alive.”

The creature roared, bursting Fleagore's eardrums, shredding and pulling his body apart as easy as it had its metal restraint. He had one final, resigned thought before he was destroyed.

'Why is it always me?'

Fleagore's blood and guts spilled out like worms from a corpse, but the beast wasn't done. It called on Hellfire, as instinctual and effortless as its creator, and incinerated Fleagore's messy remains. Only scorched jelly-fat stains and the stink of burned skin and hair remained.

The monster stared at his kill, somehow dissatisfied, and then swung his massive horned heads towards Mephistopheles. He was a little taller than the Arch Devil. He made gurgling, raspy sounds, as if he was trying to speak. Mephistopheles waited, curious. After a few tries, the monster croaked out something understandable. Something that disgusted and amused Mephistopheles in equal measure. Something that could hold a lot of potential.

“Fa…ther?”