#this post went way deeper than i thought it would but I'm trying to work on being more positive and I wanted to share | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wearysparrows · 10 days ago

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I (Almost) Shot You Down

Summary: A chance encounter with Sylus snowballs something much larger, and you're pushed even deeper into the depths of his world -- whether you like it or not.

Chapter 1: A pillar of Salt

After being forced on leave from the Hunter's Association, you try to find respite outside of the safety of your apartment. By chance, you see Sylus engaged with someone else. You nearly take his head for it -- but he gets his way, in the end.

CW (18+): Sylus/reader, no use of ' Y/N,' Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Guns, MC is chronically depressed and exhausted, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Gambling, Reader is MC, AFAB reader is implied but no pronouns are used

A/N: This is my long, ongoing work that is still being updated. There are many more chapters up on ao3, and I'm working on getting them to tumblr. They're also being edited and improved from their original postings, so if you've read it before, there may be some changes as I upload!

You had finally begrudgingly accepted a few days off from your work with the Hunter’s Association, at the behest of your primary care physician (citing your declining physical health), your boss (citing your declining work performance), and your work partner (citing your declining mental health). The aforementioned meddlers had teamed up in an effort to finally tear you away from hunting, and would not allow you to return, despite your valiant attempts at protest. Work was your escape – from yourself, from the reality of your life, from your relationships – and everything in between. Hunting never changed, and you only got better at it.

Your blatant disregard for yourself had failed to continue to go unnoticed by those who cared about you, though. Now, here you were, sitting in your empty apartment with only the all encompassing silence to keep you company. Left alone with your thoughts. Again. You hadn’t bothered to kick the lights on. Only the sound of the heater clicking filled the otherwise empty air around you. Your mind went where it always did, then. That day. No bodies were ever recovered. You didn’t even have something to bury. Caleb’s dog tags had found their way into your hands at some point, and you gazed at them listlessly in your palm. You could still feel the heat from the residual fires of the explosion radiating off of the metal. The warmth of his hand in yours. It was all you had left to prove he ever really existed.

You desperately needed to get out of the house. Anything was better than being here, and perhaps you would accidentally run into some wanderers while the ghost of you made its way about Linkon city. Throwing yourself at hordes of wanderers was the only coping mechanism that had shown any signs of taking your mind off of things. Sort of. With this scheme in mind, you quickly dressed yourself in your usual, strapping your gun to your thigh, concealing its comforting weight under your coat. It wasn’t like you were on forced bedrest, so a walk wouldn’t hurt, right? You stashed Caleb’s tags in your nightstand drawer, returning them to their safe place. You imagined that someday, they’d burn a hole in that wood, and you’d come back to nothing at all.

You left your apartment with no particular aim in mind, being sure to lock the door behind you. The biometric lock shifted into place with a soft whirr behind you. You may have been utterly exhausted, but you were never complacent. The weather outside wasn’t ideal for a walk, and the wind buffeted your hair about your face, and bit at your skin, as if you were offending it with your mere presence outside. Your eyes watered, protesting the assaults by the air. You opted to ignore these sensations, and continued to walk in what you thought was the direction of the nearby shopping district. Your appetite had long since left you – months ago now – but you knew you could find a small measure of pleasure in a cup of coffee on a day like today.

After many twists and turns, your weary feet led you to an area you weren’t wholly familiar with. Maybe it was new? This was more upscale than your usual, you realized – your Hunter’s salary was decent enough, but definitely not this decent. Cobblestone that looked suspiciously new made the click of your boot-heels echo loudly off of your surroundings. You scrutinized the buildings before you, searching for somewhere that your presence would not offend, where you could also acquire what you were after. Everything was just a touch too upscale, too unwelcoming. All of the storefronts blurred into one image, one place where you weren’t welcomed. You chased thoughts from that same morning out of your mind that threatened to break through as you were forced into a moment of mental silence, and the still of the air and the lack of bustle kept returning you to reality. The last place you wanted to be.

After a time of aimless searching, you spied a place that looked acceptable. It was smaller than the other establishments, tucked away conservatively into an alley, lit by warm sconces along either side. Unlike the other buildings, it was painted in a warm, sandy beige. You couldn't tell much else about it from the outside, other than that the interior was dimly lit. The imagery of the cup of coffee on the signage was enough to guide your way. You pulled open the heavy glass door, and half expected it to be partially empty on the inside, but you had no such luck. It was bustling, but warm as a result, and you realized how cold you had been before you had stepped in. The change in temperature almost immediately made you feel too hot in your coat.

The patronage was definitely outside of your tax bracket. The patronage was clad in an array of expensive looking furs and fabrics, all speaking to each other in the lowest of dulcet tones. You felt their eyes on you, but disregarded them. It wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to be here, regardless of how out of place you may have looked. Which, you thought, wasn’t that much. You might not have been born into high snob-society, but you took good care of your looks. Your fingers were still moving slowly in protest to the inclement weather as you fished your wallet from your coat pocket, stepping towards the counter with the intention to order. You hardly glanced at the menu. You didn’t even have a drink in mind. Just something as a distraction. Liquid, hot enough to burn your tongue. A sensation to chase the thoughts away.

This course of action was quickly interrupted, however. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of a shock of white hair on someone who seemed to tower over the rest of the people in the room, even while sitting. Clad in blacks and velvet reds, he both fit in perfectly and stood out starkly all at once. He was talking to someone else you couldn't see in a hushed tone.

Sylus?

Surely not. Why would he even be here, of all places? Sure, it was nice, but not places-Sylus-frequented nice. Or at least, the places you imagined he frequented. You still didn’t have a full idea of all of the things Sylus did with his free time. Short of that, what was he doing cavorting about in Linkon in public? Your eyes bored holes into the back of his head, trying to catch wind of what could have possibly brought him to a place like this. You side stepped into a corner table that allowed you to get a better look at who he was speaking with.

A woman?

This clearly wasn’t just any woman, either. A cascade of elaborately curled blonde hair fell down her back in elegant waves, and a deep red dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining her perfectly against Sylus’s dark form. A small nose, and full lips. Long, dark lashes. She was saying something to him, but you couldn’t make out the words in the den of the conversations from the other patrons. He laughed in response to her words, and leaned closer to her. She was smiling at him, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Her other hand touched his shoulder.

Stones stacked neatly in your stomach as you watched them. You felt like a voyeur. They looked exquisite together – it was undeniable. She was even wearing the perfect color of red. It looked as if she had exsanguinated someone and dyed the dress in their blood – a perfect match for Sylus. Everything else – everyone – in the room paled in comparison. Sylus was still smiling at her, full of charm. You thought about what Zayne had said to you before forcing you to take time off.

You look like you’re two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Well, his observation was more astute than he realized, clearly. You certainly felt that way now, in light of the spectacle that was playing out before you. Maybe only one step away. Half a step. You told yourself this was none of your business, that you should just quietly take your leave before he noticed you had ever been here. There was no reason for him to take notice of you while he was attending to his private matters. You were just passing through his life. Brushing through his fingertips. Never actually touching him in any way that mattered. Physically, mentally, spiritually.

You decided you needed to leave. Urgently. Despite telling yourself staring down the couple wasn’t bothering you because there was nothing between you and Sylus anyway and what the hell was your problem, you had begun to feel nauseated. You clutched your arm about your midsection, and hurriedly peeled yourself out of your seat. Every one of your muscles protested at the movement, reminding you that you should be at home right now. On forced bedrest, probably.

That just wasn’t in the cards. You weren’t sure you had a hand to play at all. You silently cursed the great dealer in the sky.

You made a beeline for the door, but not before you took one final glance at Sylus and his companion. Even if you were to turn into a pillar of salt for looking back, you just needed one more glimpse. To satiate your curiosity. But luck wasn’t on your side (when was it ever?), because you met Sylus’s eye as you looked, as well as those of the beautiful woman. You saw surprise pass over his features, and thought you saw his lips part as if he were going to say something. The woman peered back at you curiously. You cast your eyes away from the bewitching image before you.

You could feel all the water being sucked from each of the cells in your body, one by one. You would shrivel up on the spot, and leave behind only the base impression of yourself in the wake of your shame. Hopefully, your rotten yearning soul would be freed to roam elsewhere, far from here, in this place you didn’t belong.

Ah, take me, O salt pillar!

There were no such mercies in this life, of course. You left the cafe as quickly as your feet would allow. The glass door slammed behind you. You were running now, for reasons you couldn’t (didn’t want to) quantify. It wasn’t as if he was chasing after you, coming to explain that no, she’s just a friend, just someone I work with, don't worry. Faster you went, the need to see the comforting outline of your apartment against the sky becoming more desperate by the moment. Fortunately, the run home was certainly shorter than the walk to the cafe, and the image you so desired to see appeared before you, blessedly.

Only then did you allow yourself a moment to rest. Your lungs screamed in protest at your outburst, and you sucked in great mouthfuls of air, trying to forcibly still your rapidly beating heart. It was always betraying you in one way or another, even now. You bent over, your hands on your knees, and took a moment to collect yourself. You were grateful no one had been around to see this display, from you leaving your apartment, to running away from a damn coffee shop empty-handed. You curled a fist in your hair, willing it out of your face as you righted yourself. A few stray strands came away in your fingers. That had been happening more and more often, as of late.

The walk up the stairs was nothing else if not excruciating, and you thanked even your unluckiest stars that Xaiver didn’t seem to be home from work yet to see the unfortunate events of your life play out as they were. You stumbled into your apartment – being sure to lock the door behind you, as always.

The safety of your home did good work to soothe your nerves, a stark contrast to the horrid occurrence in the cafe. You shrugged into something more comfortable: a camisole and a pair of soft, cotton pajama shorts. This set had yet to let you down in the comfort department. Even as you changed, the events played over and over through your mind, and you burned with the embarrassment of it all. Sylus’s smile at that woman, his laughter. The way his gaze had twisted into something else entirely when he saw you. Your nausea refused to calm. Your mouth kept filling with too much saliva, over and over.

Why did you have to run away, of all things? You had left like a petulant child who was unable to cope with the sight before them, instead retreating to your small corner of safety in the world.

Wry thoughts came to you. This is what I get for taking a day off. You knew you had been wrong to do so. Your prophecy was always fulfilling itself. Take that, Dr. Zayne.

Still, you were yet unwilling to heed the siren’s call of your bed, despite the increasing intensity of its song. You flopped onto the couch instead with a sigh, the air entering and leaving your lungs easier now. You longed to be rid of the image of Sylus entangled with someone else, and decided you needed to busy your hands with something to scrub the thoughts from your mind.

As a result of not taking nearly any days off lately, you were definitely behind on the maintenance of your weapons. It technically wasn’t work. It was only related to work. You bent over from your position on the couch, and peered underneath it. Here was where your smallest gun safe lived. Perhaps not the most ideal place for it – but it wasn’t as if you had company over often, anyway. Save for Xavier, your steady and ever-reliable partner. And more recently, Sylus, who you hadn’t yet found an accurate definition for. His presence was usually accentuated by some excuse to intrude on your space.

You unlocked the safe. It was an old-school version, not biometric like the newer models. Pure, vintage analog goodness. A gift from Grandma when you had entered the Hunter’s Association. It came open with a soft, satisfying click. Only two weapons were usually inside – your Hunter’s issue handgun, old faithful. You returned it to its rightful place, now, as it had dutifully attended the cafe fiasco with you. With it was a piece that had forced itself into your possession – or rather, Sylus had forced it into your possession. You eyed the offending object, picking it up gingerly and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. It was considerably heavier than your standard issue. It had thunked onto the glass of the table, as if it were moderately offended to be there. Did even his gifts take on aspects of his personality? His influence seemed to know no bounds, so nothing would surprise you at this point. He certainly had a penchant for creating objects with personalities, if Mephisto was any measure.

This gun wasn’t the only firearm Sylus had thrust upon you. A gift, he had said. You weren’t wholly unconvinced he wasn’t using your house as his millionth-whatever-armory. You had accrued so many weapons that you had to acquire a secondary safe, the hulking mass of which sat in your bedroom forebodingly. It held all of the other “gifts” inside, tucked safely away in the darkness, waiting to be used for their dark purpose. You hid it underneath a spare sheet. The second safe was another gift from Sylus. It reminded you of him, in a way – it imposed its presence in your house: tall, cold, stark, and white. It didn’t fit here at all. And it was full of things meant to rend flesh from flesh, flesh from bone. Life from this plane into the next. You thought about the first time you met Sylus, and how he had obliterated a man from existence before your eyes with his evol. There hadn’t been so much as an ounce of recognition in his eyes for the life he had taken. The memory made your nausea threaten to return to you.

Your eyes came back into focus on the gun in front of you. You liked guns, and as much as you hated to admit it, this one was no exception. It was a beautiful article – a faithful reproduction of a vintage Colt 1911. A classic, by anyone’s measure. It was a forty-five caliber, with an eight-plus-one round capacity. The recoil of your Hunter’s association issue paled into comparison to this, and it affected your accuracy negatively. You had recently replaced its bullets – standard full metal jackets – with hollow point rounds. Higher accuracy, higher damage. You planned to test this on the next Wanderer who was unlucky enough to be at the other end of your barrel. Or the next man. Those had only recently come into your sights, as a result of your exploits – at the request of Sylus. He had never actually asked you to gun a living person down, though. You weren’t sure you were even capable of doing so. Or if he would ask.

The wood grip was custom engraved with your name, and encrusted with jewels, courtesy of him. Naturally. The body was scrubbed of any serial number. Naturally.

Ugh.

You placed it on your knees, with the intention to take it apart to clean and maintain it. You intended to add a suppressor, which you had purchased with your own money. Not a gift from Sylus. Small victories.

Just as you began to take the weapon apart, you caught a sound. There was a sort of shuffling at your door, as if someone were standing behind it. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, prickling. Your intuition told you that whatever was behind it was something to be feared. You loaded the spare magazine of hollow points into the piece with a soft click. You flicked the safety off. Your hands had already begun to sweat.

You pointed the gun at the door. It was too heavy in your hands.

Whoever was behind the door was making quick work of the lock, despite it necessitating your biometric data to unlatch.

What if it was the same people who had taken the lives of Caleb and Gran? Had they finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse, and come for you?

You held your breath to steady yourself. The extension of Sylus’s violence wavered back and forth in your grip. The door came open at a painfully slow pace, and a large figure in black slipped through. You cocked back the hammer, which had previously given you difficulty. Now adrenaline bolstered even the strength in your fingertips, any previous weakness forgotten. The figure turned, closing the door behind him. Upon seeing you on your makeshift gunner’s perch on the back of the couch, he raised his hands in surrender, showing you the calloused tan of his palms. One of his hands was nearly the size of your head.

“Sylus?”

His eyebrows had initially shot up in surprise at your current posture, but he quickly relaxed his face into that of his usual mask of easy confidence. You hated that about him, his composure. You adored it, too. He couldn’t even bother to look afraid at the end of a gun. The gun he gave you. You exhaled the breath you had been holding through your nose.

“Expecting someone else?”

He sounded pleased, of all things. You suddenly felt very exposed, in nothing but your camisole and shorts. Despite the gun in your hands, it was as if you were at the other end of his. Your head felt hot. Your forearms began to protest at the weight of the weapon. You blinked new wetness into dry eyes.

“Why the fuck are you breaking into my house?”

You didn’t lower the gun. You didn’t want to. It wasn’t as if it was the first time you two had ended up like this. You, trying to kill him. Him, accepting your choice. Probably not the last, either. You were angry with him – not for breaking in, no. Not for his casual nonchalance in the face of death (could he even die?), not for his disregard for your poweress as an opponent. But for his date with someone else. Someone who was decidedly not you. The feeling bubbled up, stronger and stronger until it was burning you from the inside out. Shame accompanied it, hand in hand.

Of course, you had no real justification for this feeling. You and Sylus weren’t dating, as you needed to remind yourself more and more frequently. You weren’t even sure you could call your relationship friendly – it was somewhere in the bizarre stage of you wanting him, and him accepting your every move with grace. He took you for all you were in stride, met you for all your whims, and you trailed after his every word. You had something he wanted – what it was, you were never quite sure. It changed with his tides. You couldn’t pry it from him. Questions were only answered with more questions, so you had given up on asking them. Sylus’s response to your question cut through your thoughts. His voice was soft, imporing.

“You didn’t answer my texts or calls. I was knocking for a while, too, but there was no answer. With the way you left, I came to make sure.”

Make sure of what?

You hadn’t heard any knocking. You also hadn’t checked your phone.

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and they came in a slow, steady stream into your consciousness. You thought about the first time you had shot him. How his blood erupted from his chest in hot streams. It stained your hands as you tried desperately to stop his bleeding, pressing against the pulse of the open wound. When you thought you had taken his life. When he had pressed the trigger for you. When he didn’t die. The heat of him was still there, under your palms. It wouldn’t wash off. He was under your skin.

“I’m glad you like the gift, by the way.”

He took a step towards you as he spoke. You adjusted your grip. He was still in your sights. Your breath came quick, your mouth dry. You licked your lips, cracked from worrying your teeth on them so often lately. You thought about the woman and Sylus. Together. The red dress. Sylus’s blood. His laugh, for someone else. Not you.

“You’re welcome to take my life again,” he murmured soothingly, “But it might disturb the neighbors. Particularly the one downstairs. Of course, I’m willing to help you deal with the aftermath. Either way.”

He still had his hands raised in submission. The image of it was practically ridiculous. This wasn’t a posture that Sylus took up under any other circumstance. You knew it was all a show for your benefit, and that you were no match for him, despite your own prowess. Something about his unrelenting acceptance of his own death at your hands (again) dragged you out of your stupor by your achilles heel. You lowered the gun. Sylus took the opportunity to stride forward, and quickly slipped it from your hands with his own. You let him. His touch lingered just a moment too long, fingers pressed to yours. He was warm. Too warm for someone who had just been out in the cold. You resisted the urge to take his hand. His evol materialized, and quickly turned the safety on, ejecting the magazine. It returned the gun to the safe, shutting it away as if it had never happened. The red cloud disappeared as quickly as it came, as if it never were at all. The process took no more than a few seconds of silence between the two of you.

“You were going to modify it?” He asked, nonchalant. As if you hadn’t just been almost making an attempt on his life. He glanced at the suppressor, now cold and lonely on the coffee table.

“Yeah. I was going to...add a suppressor.”

You could hear the flat affect in your voice. It reflected how drained you were beginning to feel by all of this, on top of everything else. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it.

What the fuck was this conversation, actually?

Sylus nodded, still managing to look pleased with the situation. You felt your life force actively draining from you as the seconds ticked by, as if you were the one who had almost been shot. His gaze shackled you in place, still. The sterling of his hair and the garnet of his eyes were just as enticing as ever. Radically out of place in your modest apartment.

“Can I help you down?”

His soft inquiry brought to your attention that you were still perched with one foot up on the back of the couch, poised to kill him. Your hands were now very much without the gun. Nothing connected you to the world below you concretely, anymore. Except him. He was standing before you with an offered hand. At some point during your conversation, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing the rippling capability of the muscle of his forearms. It enticed you without voice. You took his outstretched hand, wordlessly. To your surprise, he pulled you over the back of the couch and towards him, catching you like you were nothing, his free hand supporting your waist. You landed softly on your feet in front of him, still in his arms, hand in his own. For a moment, the posture reminded you of how you had danced with him at the auction. You looked up at him, he down at you. His expression was inscrutable, save for a little smile. You were close enough to see the soft sweep of his eyelashes. The circles under his eyes. Proud nose and soft lips. You pulled away, hugging your arms to yourself. It was much colder for his lack of touch. His hands hovered at the place where he had held for a moment, and then fell back to his sides.

“What has you so wound up? I tried to call out to you this morning, but you bolted before I could greet you.”

Sylus had his head cocked at you now, as if the answer you had for him was something very simple. He adjusted one of his sleeve garters. You averted your gaze, studying a now very interesting speck of dust on your floor. You wanted to put all of this behind you, to forget it had ever happened. You would have never brought it up had he never shown his face. But he had to be here, asking questions. Making you lie to him even more than you already did. You had never been a liar until you spent time with him. You tried to keep your tone level as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”

Even saying it made your insides crawl. You spat the last word out with more venom that you had intended. Your lower intestine was trying to creep up to your diaphragm, and seemed to be succeeding. Sylus raised an eyebrow in your direction.

“Date?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement made his biceps all the more prominent. He sounded puzzled, and was scrutinizing you, now. You couldn’t comprehend what was so hard to understand about all of this. You sighed, despite your best attempts to keep your emotions from bleeding through your cracks.

“Yes, date. What would you have me do? Come up and introduce myself while you’re clearly in the middle of something?”

You were aware you were completely out of line here. None of this was any of your concern in the first place. You had stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Sylus had, quite literally, no obligation to you whatsoever. Certainly not to explain himself, or who he chose to spend his time with. You wanted to shrink and disappear into the floorboards. Perhaps you could seep through the cracks like smoke, and escape this confrontation all together. But you didn’t have that kind of power – unless Sylus was with you, holding you in his arms.

He had been quiet for a time. He started again.

“The woman I was with today is one of my contacts in Linkon. She helps me smuggle things in and out when I can’t attend to them personally. I’ve been working on...procuring something. For you.” He cleared his throat a little, as if he had just told you an embarrassing secret.

You gawked at him. He was still smiling at you. His eyes met yours. Seeing everything you didn’t want him to see. He didn’t even need to use the protocore in his right eye. It was all bared to him, regardless.

“And yes,” he continued,

“I would have been very pleased to introduce you. You only let me show you off every so often – I wanted to seize the opportunity by the horns.”

There were too many things you didn’t understand. How he could move about Linkon so nonchalantly. How he could be having conversations about smuggling in an upscale Linkon cafe. How the man before you, who gained all of his income from untold numbers of criminal activities, was the same who willingly spent his free time with you playing Kitty Cards and screwing around in the arcade. It was too much. You turned from him, and instead returned to the safety of the couch. You sat on it, grounding yourself with the feeling of your own belongings. You heard him follow after you. His shoes were still on, but you didn’t have the heart to scold him for his disregard for your floor's cleanliness. He sat next to you. The couch sunk under his greater weight, and caused you to slip a little closer to him on the furniture.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sylus.”

It was all you could say. Better to keep the respectable distance between you just as it was. Any further and you wouldn't be able to keep up this facade around him anymore. He kept pulling at your threads, trying to reveal your insides.

“No one owes anyone anything. But I wanted to tell you. Besides,” you felt his evol touch your hand, ever so gently. It was as if he was holding it without actually holding it. The little red extension of himself curled around your fingers playfully. You remembered how it had choked and shackled you in the past. Now it sat in your lap like a beloved pet, curling about your knees and fingertips. It’s usual crackling intensity was gone, now only a light, pleasant buzz against your skin. You focused on the sensation. It was warm, like him.

"Here I was, excited to think that you were going to shoot me because you thought you saw me out with someone else. I’m a little disappointed that wasn’t the reason.”

He was chuckling, like what just occurred had amused him. Something to spice up the usual banal repetition of his everyday life. You felt yourself deflating. There was no more hot air left inside – just the residual exhaustion, both emotionally and physically. You found yourself wishing, again, that you hadn’t taken a day off. If you hadn’t, Sylus wouldn’t have broken into your apartment to explain he wasn’t out with someone else. To you. The person he was also decidedly Not With. You fiddled with his evol in your lap. You had been around him often enough to know this teasing was his way of trying to cheer you up – to take your mind somewhere else besides exhausted and angry and I want to leave this plane of existence.

“I’ll be sure to follow through with it next time.”

There was no real bite to your words – to your ears, you only sounded exactly as you felt. Like you were threatening the man you had feelings for who did not return them, yet still refused to leave you alone. A plaything for his own amusements. Sylus merely nodded. His evol had since made its way to the drawstrings of your shorts, and it was tying them in various intricate knots, there. You wondered at it. It seemed to have a mind of its own – but you were certain that this, too, was another idle whim of his.

“I’m looking forward to it, then.”

His statement was quiet, nearly a sigh of pleasure. The back of your neck and ears burned in tandem. You examined the knots that were now likely forever tied into your poor drawstring.

What the fuck kind of knots even were these?

You pointedly ignored the minor arousal that threatened to arise at this.

“There’s something wrong with your brain. Seriously.”

“It takes a thief to catch a thief, my dove.” You could hear the smile in his words as he spoke.

“You have a few days off, right?” He was rolling the previously abandoned suppressor around in his fingers, examining it. You swore he had somehow gotten closer to you on the small couch – with the way his legs were spread, his knee was just barely touching yours.

“Yeah. Wait, how did you know?”

He ignored your question. As he almost always did, as it suited him. Instead, he responded with another question of his own.

“Why don’t you come back with me to the N109 zone? You can rest there, instead of here. Or, we can go out. Whatever you’d like.”

You were about to deny him, but his voice took on a more serious tone as he continued to speak.

“This place is going to claim your life if you don’t leave it every once in a while.”

You look two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Why was everyone in your life so thoroughly convinced of your impending collapse? Even your criminal mastermind was in on it. You scrunched Sylus’s evol up in your hands. It wiggled, protesting your treatment in your fingers, but not dissipating. You wondered if he could feel your touch through it. If he could feel it when he killed. Maybe you did need to leave – maybe this place was killing you. If it wasn’t Wanderers, it would be your own disregard for yourself. Maybe the air was forever tainted by the death of your family, and the miasma would never quite leave your lungs. Maybe running away was the best thing to do. Sylus was giving you an out – at least for a little while. Maybe there were strings attached. There had to be, without a shadow of a doubt. He was silent while you mulled it over. You expected him to comment on your lack of response, but he said nothing.

Irritatingly patient.

You sighed. You turned to Sylus.

“Fine. But I only have a few days. Give me a few minutes to pack my things.”

Sylus had the good grace to look surprised at how easily you had agreed to his suggestion, but it quickly turned into a look of barely concealed smug satisfaction. His evol vanished from your grip, and you found yourself missing its comforting touch.

“You technically don’t need to pack anything. I have everything you could possibly need at the base. Clothes, food, weapons, shampoo, conditioner…the kinds you like.” He trailed off. You couldn’t tell how serious he was being, what with the expression he was serving you. You shot him a look.

He raised his hands, showing you his palms, submitting once again.

“Like I said. Give me a minute to pack my things.”

Sylus leaned back on the couch, relenting. He dropped his hands.

True to your word, gathering your things for a trip to the N109 zone took little time at all. It wasn’t that you were particularly Spartan with your assets – but rather that Sylus really did keep all of the things you needed around, and much more. Knowing you could trust him on this front made warmth creep to your face, and the cold began to seep from your bones. After changing, you returned to the living room with your bag, where Sylus was patiently awaiting your return. He was peering out your window. The sun hit him just right, and it illuminated his eyes with its beams. The red only intensified in the light, the color of blood only just exposed to air. You could have stared at the image of him forever. He always claimed to be unlucky, but it seemed to you as if every aspect of the world bowed to him. For someone who was so weak to its rays, he was lit brilliantly by the sun. He turned to you, squinting. Your eyes fell to your gun, which was in his hands. You recalled that he had definitely returned it to the safe, previously. He waved it at you, careful not to point the barrel in your direction.

“Don’t forget this.”

He stood as he spoke, and stepped toward you. His form loomed over you, and you felt him slip the gun into your thigh holster (where you had planned to put your standard issue) underneath your coat.

Bastard.

His hand lingered on your hip before he put it in his coat pocket. He smelled good. He was wearing something today that you couldn’t quite place. His natural scent was there, too.

Rosemary? Figs? Cloves?

“Shall we?”

His voice cut through your mental musings on men’s fragrance notes. You nodded, following after him as he led you out of your apartment. You were sure to lock the door behind you. Again. His bike was waiting faithfully for you in the parking lot. Sylus slipped your helmet on for you (why did he even have a second helmet on him today in the first place?), making sure your hair was tucked neatly away behind your neck. After repeating the action on himself, he kicked the stand out from under his bike, and you got on behind him. You always had no choice but to wrap your arms around him when you rode. You wondered how it made him feel – or if he felt anything about the contact at all. His back was broad, solid, and warm underneath your touch. You swore you could feel his muscles ripple underneath you, even with the barrier of his clothing between you. You squeezed him a little tighter as he began to drive. Even through your jacket, the air nipped at you for your speed. As he pressed the bike harder, you felt something tickle around your waist. You peeked down as best you could through the visor of your helmet. Sylus’s evol was keeping you neatly attached to him, as if your arms weren’t enough. The inside of your helmet suddenly felt hotter. You tried not to think about why he did the things he did. Sylus offered no acknowledgement or explanation for any of this. As always.

The bike sped on to the N109 zone, eager to return to where it belonged.

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace

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poppadom0912 · 7 months ago

Text

Is it too late?

Warnings: Mentions of periods, hospitals, surgery, pain and illness

Summary: When your older brother is a fancy surgeon, being sick is the last thing you want.

Requested by @1chicago5021

A/N: I'm still alive people. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and thought I'd finally get all these requests done before the next round of exams. I am in a lesson right now so I can’t do the usual aesthetic collage I always do. This was sent quite a while ago but I actually had so much fun writing this so thank you! I hope this lives up to your standards <3

*****

Two weeks ago now, your body randomly started not working the way you wanted it to, but you put all the blame on your period whose cramps hadn't been very forthcoming.

The painkillers were a coming in at a constant stream, hot water bottles never having the chance to go room temperature.

Your never-ending migraines and 24/7 cramps were a constant, so you expected to feel relief once you were back to normal. But that never came because this week started and somehow, you felt even worse.

When you woke up this morning to your throat feeling weird, you knew something was wrong when you drank water and the feeling didn’t go away.

Despite that, you went to school anyways, bidding your brother goodbye when he dropped you off, completely unaware of your wellbeing. But you couldn’t blame the guy, he was stressed enough over work as it is, you didn’t need to add to his already overflowing workload.

You only felt worse as the day progressed. It was only spring, nearing summer, but your body temperature wouldn’t stop fluctuating. One minute you were shivering and asking to borrow your friend's hoodie but the next you were sweating like you had just finished a marathon and was trying to get rid of as many layers as possible.

The cramps were immense. The worst you ever had and to consider you just got off your period, you weren’t a stranger to post period cramps, but this was on another level. You hadn’t been in this much pain ever even while on your reds. None of the pain killers your friends kindly provided for you alleviated the pain. Death would feel ever so sweet right about now.

You knew you were seriously sick when you were on the verge of collapsing at lunch. Your friends all shouted in alarm when you faltered on your feet in the cafeteria. You ignored their efforts and attempts to get you to the nurse's office. There wasn’t long left of the school day, there wasn’t any point in leaving with barely two hours left.

As soon as you got home, you fell face first into bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow and you pulled the covers over your body with however much strength remained in your arms that got heavier as the day went on.

You were in a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your dreams were non-existent. You weren’t too sure what time it was, but you felt someone shaking you, going from gentle to a hand tightly holding your shoulder, a muffled voice inaudible as you came in and out of your slumber.

Their gestures were painful, but you didn’t have it in you to tell the intruder as you struggled to even muster a groan. Your eyes fluttered, face digging even deeper into the pillow as if to suffocate yourself. That was all the indication the person needed to shake you harder, adamant to wake you up.

With a blocked nose, breathing out through your mouth proved itself to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. And stuffing your face into your pillow might not have been the best idea taking that into consideration.

Their voice sounded way too far away, as though they weren’t in the room with you. One second they were roughly holding you, the next, all pressure ceased but the pain didn’t.

Before you could even register what they were doing now, your eyes heavy with sleep dropped once more as you were enveloped into darkness again.

*****

Over the past two weeks, Connor had noticed your depleting energy but when the mood swings came along with your hot water bottles, he didn’t think any much more of the matter.

But then you showed no signs of improvements and at first, he could hardly notice. You hid it quite well at first but as the week progressed, it was apparent to him you were getting sick, and you were too stubborn to admit that to your surgeon brother.

Nonetheless, things didn’t look too bad that staying home was necessary. You were managing quite well, going to school the entire week without complaints, so he found no reason to intervene into something he knew would end up in an argument that would result in you holding a grudge and not talking to him for a few days.

He dropped you off and drove to work expecting nothing. You smiled at him when you left the car, and nothing seemed physically wrong when you picked up the pace to meet your friends.

His twelve-hour shift seemed to never end. When he had a moment to himself, he messaged you as he waited for his coffee, staring at his message that sat alone with no replies for hours. School has finished, you were sure to be home now, so why weren’t you answering?

He didn’t think much of it till he was meant to go home at twelve. He was all ready standing at his locker but then Maggie called his name and he saw several ambulances piling up outside.

As amazing as he was, his attention couldn’t be in two places at once and unfortunately for you, car crashes had more significance in this situation. But as soon as this was all over, you’d be his number one priority once more.

It was all over six hours later when he came out of the second surgery he had to take lead in.

Stepping out of the surgery theatre, he thanked all his co-workers and was dashing away to collect his things, not wanting to be here any longer. Having time to finally check his phone again, his concern skyrocketed when you still hadn’t replied to his messages.

Waving off the few staff remaining in the emergency department, Connor wasted no time in driving off. His adrenaline had yet to die down from the rush of a packed-out emergency room and doing several successful surgeries. Adding to this was his building concern for you. Maybe you were just sleeping, and your phone was on charge. Maybe it was on silent, and you didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was stolen, and you couldn’t contact him-

Connor sighed as he parked the car. Wasting no time, his body still thrumming from the surgery high, he walked into the building and took the stairs instead, taking large strides as he skipped every two.

The house was drop dead silent when he opened the door which you hadn’t locked from the inside like you usually would. That and the completely pitch-black apartment was the first things that put him on edge.

He locked the door behind him, walking in further and inspecting the living room and kitchen that didn’t look lived in. Everything was in its same place as he left it in this morning. Closing the blinds in the living room, he walked towards your bedroom, your door slightly ajar which had never been the case since you started living with him. You always shouted at him whenever he left the door even a slither open, you always needed complete darkness to sleep. The tiniest bit of light always hindering your sleeping ability.

Pushing the door open, Connor poked his head inside first to survey the room. He finally let himself relax at the sight of you lying in bed, your figure completely drowning in your duvet. The weird lump in your sheets being the only reason he could identify you.

He felt himself relax, his body physically deflating now that he had eyes on you, knowing for sure that nothing was wrong.

For some reason, your curtains were still open which they never were since you were young, always complaining, once again, that you needed complete darkness to be able to sleep. Closing your curtains, he found your phone on your bedside desk, and it was littered with notifications from not only him but all of your friends too. All of them were asking in variations if you were okay, if you felt better, did you get home safe and how you were feeling.

They were all sent at three in the afternoon. It was now two in the morning.

Concerned at the topic of the messages, Connor came over to the side of the bed you were laying on and placed his hand on your forehead, his eyes widening immediately. He felt himself warming up just from how hot you were.

Sitting down on the space by your knees, Connor shook you gently, trying to rouse you from your apparent very deep sleep but the only movement you made was from what he was doing.

“Y/N? Hey, wake up. Can you get up for me really quick?”

The adrenaline that was just dying down was picking up again along with his heart rate, why weren’t you waking up?

He shook you once again but this time, he was more rough, his worry meaning he gripped your shoulder tightly and shook you with a force that he’d never use on you before as his baby sister.

This time he tried calling you name while he tried getting you up. Lifting the duvet off your body, not only were you shivering but you were sweating a very unusual amount.

Swallowing harshly, Connor tried one more time, calling your name and roughly shaking you. “Come one, I need to you wake up Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N get up.”

But you just wouldn’t budge.

Deciding that enough was enough, he scooped you into his arms and it must’ve been the sudden movement that caused you to let out a small whimper in what was clearly pain. It was small but it was the most he’d gotten from you since he got home and that was better than nothing.

Foregoing his jacket, Connor made sure to slip your cardigan over your torso, so you weren’t going to die from the cold outside. He quickly slipped into his own shoes and left the building not a moment later.

*****

No one had been expecting Connor to be back at work so soon, not even him. It was a few minutes to three and the ED was relatively calm taking into account the big accident not too long ago, but Connor was grateful.

Getting out the car, Connor looked into the ED and called for the first person he saw.

“April! Get me a gurney!”

Said nurse was caught completely off guard, jumping from where she stood at the nurse's desk with Will not too standing behind her. He too clearly was confused but Connor had no time to dwell on them.

Not checking if she was listening, Connor rounded the car and picked you back into his arms, your head resting on his bicep and your legs on the inside of his elbow. Slamming the door shut, Connor strode into the emergency department and luckily for him, April and Will were more than ready to help.

“All the gurneys are used up from before, but we’ve got a free bed.” April said, leading the surgeon into an empty treatment room where Will was lowering the bedside rails.

“Talk to me Connor.” Will said, understanding there was no time for formalities when he saw it was you Connor was carrying.

“No clue what happened but she’s as hot as anything, she’s shivering and sweating at the same time and will not wake up for anything.” Connor started, gently laying you down and standing back to let Will and April do their jobs. He was itching to help but physically had to move further away from you so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Pretty sure she’s been sick and in pain for a while now, but she never said anything.” He continued, looking at all the numbers on the machines that were popping up as they were connected to your body. “When I asked last week, she just kept saying it was her period cramps.”

As April hooked you up onto an IV drip, Will started palpating your body in search for any particular place of pain. And when he came to a particular area in your lower abdomen and you cried out, the three of them looked at each other knowingly.

“Kieran should still be on shift.” Connor said, remembering the surgeon he left behind that was in charge and available.

Will nodded in confirmation, “Let’s move.”

*****

Waking up felt different to all the times before. Your levels of disorientation and haziness and confusion were on another level.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the lack of pain. You couldn’t feel not even a pinch in your stomach, maybe it was weird to say but it felt liberating to not be in debilitating pain.

“Oh, thank goodness your awake.” Connor looked dead on his feet in the doorway of the room but the immense relief painting his face was like no other.

You made him feel and look like that- Shit, what happened, what did you do?

Before you could say anything, Connor beat you to it. “How are you feeling? In any pain?”

As he questioned you, a poured you a cup of water, holding it so all you had to do was drink and not need to exert energy that he knew from experience, you didn’t have.

Once again, before you could ask, he answered for you. “It was appendicitis. Your period cramps were in fact your appendix and last night it burst.”

“But it’s all good. We got you into surgery and your appendix is gone as should your pain.”

“Wow.” You said shakily, your voice so quiet from the lack of use.

“Please don’t do that next time.” Connor said, sitting on the empty seat by the bed, taking your hand into his. “Please tell me when you're in pain and when you feel sick. You matter to me; all your small or big problems are mine too. I don’t care how trivial they are.”

Silence followed as he set the glass aside. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo.”

And to say you felt guilty was an understatement.

“Claire’s pissed.” You both winced at the thought of your sister finding out. “She’s going to visit when she’s finished with work. I told her your healthy and out of surgery but she’s still pissed.”

“M’Sorry.” You apologised, voice hoarse and lips chapped. “I didn’t want-“

“Y/N.” Connors face made it look like he was in pain from your admission he cut off. “You’re never a bother to me okay? Me being a doctor is a good thing, use it to your advantage.”

You nodded, confirming to change next time if there was another time. Fingers crossed there isn’t.

“How hard was it to not do the surgery?” You smiled, squeezing his hand and poking his bicep. He was still in his scrubs from his shift last night.

Connor rolled his eyes and groaned. Such a sight made you laugh.

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago fic #onechicago #chicago med #one chicago fanfiction #chicago med x reader #connor rhodes #connor rhodes oneshot #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes x sibling #sister reader

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drea-ms · 1 year ago

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WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING by KUSUO SAIKI

٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Inspired by Laufey's song "While you were sleeping", Kusuo Saiki falls in love with you at 3:30 am, he "hates" it ( spoiler; he does not )

warnings. pure fluff. ooc!saiki i think. corny and cheesy story i thought of at 12:47 am after thinking of the guy i like. mentions of yn. grammar mistakes. from saikis pov kinda. being in love. sweet fluff before all the angst (707 angst coming soon.) i just love saiki a lot :(.

The clock read 3:30 am, and the pink haired boy still couldn't sleep, so deep in his thoughts. But, what was he thinking about? Could it be a plan to become average and leave his friend group forever or the amount of noise there is in the middle of the night that the average person couldn't hear? or maybe it's the girl with [h/l] [h/c] hair. Probably the first one, or maybe it's the last one. It's definitely the last one.

He doesn't know how he began to think of you this late, one moment he was getting ready to sleep, the other, he was thinking of how pretty you would look if he wasn't a pyschic and without his powers. He hates how you left him in this position, while you were sleeping without a care in the world, Kusuo Saiki had just began to fall in love with you. He absolutely hates it (he doesn't. he's lying to himself again.)

He just hopes it's a one time thing, that your playing mind games with him (how is that possible??? he's a god damn psychic!!) and that when he does go to sleep, that it'll never happen again. Yeah, this is just a one time thing...

It's 9:76 am. Six hours after that predicament. And he was so wrong, since that night, he couldn't bring himself to sleep without the thought of you within him, each time he did try to sleep, you were in his dreams. One way or another,you started to appear in his daily thoughts more and more often. When he was getting ready for school, everything and everywhere he went and did, you were in his mind. Like a lost puppy you were following him around in his thoughts, he absolutely hates it. He hates how when he gets to school you're there and you're talking to your friends and spot him and wave at him with your dumb smile. He hates how after class you greet him and both of you hard to lunch, he hates how you know that he likes being alone and leave him to himself, knowing well enough that he doesn't mind being with you, even if it means he's sacrificing his own time just to be with you.

And he's back at square one, the clock ticking and the time is 3:30 am, thinking of you again, how candy can't compete with how sweet you are, that the way you smile might as well be on par with Teruhashi, how your kindness and friendliness can make someone's teeth fall out. Everything about you is on his mind, and while you're sleeping again, like a baby, he's falling more and more deeper in love with you.

Sweet and Kind YN LN stuck in Kusuo Saiki's head, and he's beginning to like it, he likes everything about you, he likes how you always get him coffee jelly, even though you don't like coffee. He likes how you try to get him away from his and yours friend group just for you and him enjoy the silence for a while, he loves loves loves the idea of being your boyfriend one day.

And maybe that idea might become true. He just hopes that when it does, the both of you will be in bed together awake at 3:30 am and in love.

VAL TALKS?!? back again :3 it's been a couple of weeks but i have school and i'm busy most of the time living life and going to school:) i wrote this because i was bored and start playing mystic messenger again and i thought of the guys i like :). i'm not sure i'm back for good, but i like writing and i have a 707 angst that's being brained stormed rn so i wanna focus on that and other stuff rather than just over work myself to point where writing isn't fun anymore to me:) it'll take some time for me to come back but i'll write and post every so often :) asks are open!! send me stuff of your favs!! especially mike from the fnaf i want to write him, so send requests!!

#🌙 — val writes #the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki k #saiki k x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo

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radioisntdead · 8 months ago

Text

Adore

Alastor x reader

Warnings:

This is short, not my best work I WILL REDEEM MYSELF. Alastor is implied to break in at the end.

Good evening folks!

APOLOGIES FOR THIS BEING DELAYED, I accidentally deleted the whole thing and then I just laid on Barnaby out of defeat and slept.

ANYWAYS HERE'S WEDNESDAY'S ANGST, or Wednesday's poor excuse for angst, the original was better.

I'll be posting another angst fic later today, hopefully, it's either gonna be with Lute or another Alastor one

Song

A-one, two, three, four

You completely and utterly adored Alastor, how could you not?

He was quite charming! Sure he was a cannibalistic murderer but that for some reason wasn't a deal breaker for you.

A side effect from being in hell probably or possibly because you were just as screwed up as he was just in a different format!

Everything you do, it sends me

You had met him while working at Rosie's emporium, Rosie had asked you to make some tea while she taught Alastor the newest slang she had gathered.

Higher than the moon with every twinkle in your eye

Turns out you both had so much in common!

Both of you had gained deer attributes after your fall to eternal damnation, had a strong distaste for the lustful cravings of the flesh, thought cannibalism was neat, Rosie was a dear friend, and held a fondness and strong preference for the years you were alive.

You strike a match that lights my heart on fire

Rosie being the matchmaker she was decided to nudge the two of you together, after all she saw how well you and Alastor matched together, and it worked! Of course it did.

When you're near, I hide my blushing face

You and Alastor fit together perfectly, like pillows and blankets, like shoes and laces.

And trip on my shoelaces

He'd take you dancing, hand gently placed on your waist when you would dance more classically, or you'd have arms and legs frailing around like a octopus when you'd give more energetic dances a try.

Grace just isn't my forté

The two of you enjoyed cooking together in the kitchen, Jambalaya, curries, biscuits and gravy, pasta, gumbo, baked breads and whatever else you could think of, you made together.

But it brings me to my knees when you say

You'd help Alastor out with his radio broadcast, by either proofreading his scripts or finding an unfortunate sinner to make an appearance with their screams.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

You didn't know where things went wrong, everything was going well!

I fall into a pile on the floor, deer love is hard to ignore

At least you thought so, the last day you spent with Alastor the two of you had made a lovely dinner together, you had set the table with fresh flowers, a candle or two.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

After dinner the two of you danced to some jazzy song from his era, and he twirled you around.

We're as different as can be

His hand holding yours.

I've noticed you're remarkably murdery and I'm slightly less murdery

His red eyes staring adoringly into yours.

We balance out each other nicely

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before you went to sleep that night.

You wear fancy shoes in the snow

You had awoken in the morning and Alastor wasn't there.

You assumed he had stepped out and he'd be back soon.

In mid-July, I still feel cold

But as the clock continued to tick and the red skies turned into a deeper red you were worried but you knew he could handle himself maybe he just got caught up in something? Perhaps with that TV guy he was 'friends' with?

We're opposites in every way

Hours turned into days and days into weeks,

No one had heard from nor had they seen Alastor.

You looked everywhere for him, asking around, desperately trying to find out where he went.

but I can't resist it when you say

Vox apparently tried to get him to join his little V themed posse and Alastor rejected him, rather harshly and also broke his little TV antenna while he was at it.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Rosie hadn't heard from him either, and obviously you wouldn't be asking around if you knew where he was.

I fall into a pile on the floor

Weeks turned into months and before you knew it those months became years.

He was just gone, leaving only traces of his existence.

Puppy love is hard to ignore, when every little thing you do, I do adore

For the first few years you would frequently pop into his radio tower, hoping that maybe, just maybe he would be there for some reason, and when he undoubtedly wasn't, you cleaned the place up, keeping it in tip top shape.

Finding words, I mutter

Once it hit the five year mark you stopped popping in, allowing dust and whatever else to consume the radio tower untill further notice.

Tongue-tied, twisted

You stopped hoping that Alastor would just waltz on into your shared home, with that yellowed grin of his and static following.

Hoove in mouth, I start to stutter, Ha, ha, Heaven help me

You stopped looking for Alastor.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Seven years, he was gone for seven years,

He was back and he didn't have the decency to even pay you a visit? You had to hear about his return from him publicly beefing with Vox.

I fall into a pile on the floor, Puppy love is hard to ignore

If Alastor wasn't going to come find you then you wouldn't go out of your way to find him either, even if that hazbin hotel where he was residing was only a 30 minute walk away.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

Alastor didn't intentionally ghost you, his absence was only supposed to be for a short while.

Unfortunately he was foolish enough to make a deal that had kept him away from you for seven long years, his dear friend Rosie had been kind enough to fill him in on your activities since his disappearance but not before scolding him harshly for not even having the decency to send a postcard.

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

He had been back for a time now, how rude of him to not pay his dearest a visit! After all you were looking for him until recent years right?

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

Alastor was someone you completely and utterly adored once.

And unfortunately he still adored you to some degree considering he was standing in front of you in the doorway of the house you had once shared, he was as smiley as ever, his grin grew larger as he saw your confused expression.

"Good evening my darl-" he was interrupted by you slamming the door in his face.

Every little thing you do, I do adore

It seems you weren't as excited to see him as he expected, oh well! Good thing for him that you didn't bother to change the locks.

Good evening folks my apologies, this is more comedic then angsty, hope you enjoyed though I will redeem myself.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you

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inkyycapp · 1 year ago

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how i think characters would react

if you got (very) hurt: adventure time edition.

tw/cw : angst, fluff, blood, violence, gore?, terrible story building, implied romance, fionna and cake spoilers, a lot of cringe, self-indulgence, character hcs, etc...

[a/n: this is very sloppy and rush as i made this between classes so it's half edited half not and not at all proof read. forgive me. thank you for the love on my last posts!! i wasn't expecting my adventure time hcs to get the attention it did, thank you so much!! i have finished fionna and cake(twice) so, my hcs might slightly shift a bit. at the moment. thinking of cross posting on ao3. reader is usually always gender neutral in all my posts unless stated otherwise. that's all! i'm open to requests and my dms/pms are open. thank you! new additions as well!! this is all i have, i'm sorry. a few more are in the drafts. please tell me if i missed anything tag and cw/tw wise! thank you.]

[holy shit, fionna and cake's finn. honka honka. i don't deserve a platform.]

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

|| it all happened so fast. you could barely recall what happened. one moment you're up-right, after the next you're trying to pick yourself off the ground. your breathing grew more labored at every attempt, and the smell of iron hung heavy in the air. the warm liquid on your hands was a stark contrast to cold that began to wrack your body. it wasn't long 'til your vision faded to black, leaving only questions behind into your last fleeting thoughts. ||

finn.

(the favorite. my favorite.)

-the both of you were exploring an old cave. deep, dark, and damp. it was said to hold treasure far back into the cave, and out of curiosity you both went to explore. what you didn't know was that many people sought out that treasure. many dangerous people.

-going deeper into the cave, you and finn found the treasure, though nothing cool to take back except for a few cool rings. turning on your way out, with your back to the entrance, a sharp pain was felt through your body. looking down you saw the bloodied blade of a sword. you had no time to react as you were shoved off the blade and onto the ground. from there, it was a blur.

-finn would (violently) remove anyone involved. while brutal, he makes sure to end it quick--he doesn't have time for them when you're bleeding out on the ground.

-finn never stopped talking to you, even if you're asleep. it's always optimistic-- he talks about; new things he's found, friends he talked to recently, any new news, old and new stories, the next date he'll take you on, etc... he rambled hours on end in a one-sided conversation. it's how he copes.

-finn's trying to be uplifting. but, by himself he's a mess. he rarely stays at the treehouse because he's too restless. he feels weak, and unable to do anything. when finn's not at your side he's fighting through his feelings. finn had learned it wasn't healthy to use violence as his only outlet, but it makes him feel something that isn't the heavy stone in his chest when he sees you.

-he's a patient man, he knows you'll wake up soon. he just had to be patient. but after around a few days he doesn't want to be "patient" anymore. he wants you to wake up now. finn knows he can't make that happen, but it was a selfish want to keep himself going.

-when you did wake up, he was all over you. there wasn't a time when he wasn't with you, or at least in the same vicinity as you.

-good luck trying to pry yourself away from his arms. this man has fought monsters thrice his size for fun. even your prettiest please wasn't going to work, not this time. you almost died. you could've died and he couldn't do anything about it. those memories never left his brain basket, even when your recovery was going smoothly.

-very anxious about letting you tag along, but knows you'll probably go off on your own if he refuses to take you along. he feels it's safer to allow you to come along, rather than go off on your own. with him, he knows that at least this time he could do better. he won't ever have a repeat of last time.

-finn keeps you close during each adventure, even losing sleep watching the surroundings to be sure no one sneaks up on you. he will refuse to sleep, so you'd have to force him. please give this man all the reassurance, he really needs it. it won't stop his anxiety, or his fear of it happening again, but it puts him at ease. even if it's just a little bit, it helps, nonetheless.

fern.

-the green knight has plenty of enemies. of course, fern could protect himself, and you could do the same. however, even if you could protect yourself, there wasn't any chance to protect yourself getting jumped, and a dirty stab to the back. the most dishonorable way to lose to a foe. the amount of ever growing disrespect.

-he loses his shit. sure, he gets mad quickly, but if you were awake to see him like this: holy shit. he grows plentiful thorns, and poison flowers all over himself subconsciously. (he's actually very pretty like this.)

-he's livid, and you're not conscious to do anything about it. and that's just it, you're unconscious, bleeding out on the ground. fern couldn't quite process it just yet. normally you'd stop him from going too far, but you can't right now. that's supposed to never happen. he's confused and angry, and you're not waking up. you're not moving. so, he cuts down anyone involved in a quick motion. he doesn't care how brutal, as long as it's quick. fern wastes no time in picking you up (after managing the thorns and flowers) and taking you to doctor princess.

-fern can't stand seeing you like this. laying weakly on that hospital bed.

-if you think finn's not good at coping, fern is much worse. he doesn't even cope. he's just...there.

-he's so confused, and just shuts down a bit. like he's still there, he's still the green knight-- fern. but, he's just distant. not quite himself-- off.

-fern is unable to wrap his head around what happened to you, but he goes about his 'normal' life. he tries to just go about his casual life without you there, and he's just confused. it doesn't take long before he grows upset, allowing the rage to boil.

-'they used to do that.' 'this was their favorite color.' 'they were supposed to fix that.' 'they like bird houses.' everything reminds him of you. it's impossible to go a single day without a reminder that you're still unconscious.

-i think it gets more apparent when he's out and about as the green knight. he's more violent. but, he doesn't mean to be. it just...happens.

-he's likely not there when you first wake, but when he gets there fern's complaining about everything under his breath. but when he sees you up, that bed isn't just for you anymore.

-he's holding you close, with a firm hold and refusing to let go. he's scolding you for not waking up sooner, and complaining about how life without you was too different. he tried to be casual, but he missed you a bit too much.

-there is also no prying fern off of you-- a common thing between all of them. once you're up, there is no separating you both for a few hours at the least.

-fern is also hesitant about letting you rejoin him on the adventures, but as long as you stay close, and keep weapon on you at all times, he'll agree. but, all of your wounds-- every. single. one.-- had to be medically evaluated as ok, and no threat to your health before anything.

farmworld!finn.

(post crown -- pre fionna and cake.)

-he's in shock, not moving for a few moments. he knew why he'd be hated, or hunted down, killed even, but why you? why did they have to drag you into this?

-someone in the many gangs around the parts found you somewhere in the clearing waiting for finn. you both had previously planned a picnic out in a nice clearing in the woods. he was running late. but, once he found you bleeding out and onto grass, he's thrown way off guard.

-finn is quickly trying to pick you off the grass, trying to get you out of there, and dragging you back to his cabin. finn manages to tend to each of your wounds. though, the moment he's done, and you're in a stable condition-- he's leaving the cabin for a few hours.

-he finds whoever did this to you, and doing what he couldn't earlier. finn is driving in the same injuries they gave to you over and over again. he doesn't let up until he's in tears. finn knows that this changes nothing. he knows this won't make him feel better, but he needed to do something. anything. even if it's for his own sadistic pleasure to see the regret on their faces-- to see them like this. pathetically clawing at the dirt in an attempt to ground themselves through the pain-- trying to crawl away from his bloodied hands.

-(robot hand included.)

-finn leaves them with their lives(barely), and a warning before disappearing into the woods.

-he is struggling to cope. finn hold your hand in his abnormally cold one running his thumb over your knuckles. he's constantly checking in on you, and rarely leaving your side. sleeping, and eating could wait. after all that's happened with the crown, you're all he has left. he can't lose you too.

-he stays by your side as much as he can. finn knows he should probably take his mind off of...your condition and stay productive but it's difficult. the only reason the cabin is warm is because if it got too cold you'd start to shake. he makes food only because if you wake up you might be hungry.

-he doesn't know what to do for the most part, just waiting and hoping that you'll be better in no time. a fear lingers deep inside him that you'll worsen the moment he closes his eyes. so, finn stays up. there are times when he has passed out around the house, and when he wakes up he's absolutely terrified; running to check on you, checking to make sure your wounds haven't reopened, making sure you're alive.

-a deep seeded fear the you'll wilt away in his arms. it keeps him up at night-- it eats at him day by day.

-you're finally awake, but even then the fear doesn't fade. he's at you're every call so much that it begins to worry you.

-you'll have to force him, and i mean force him to sleep. you're ok, he's ok-- everything is ok. he can finally rest.

-he's just happy you're still there with him.

prismo.

-you? hurt? nope. not on his time watch. prismo has you out of the situation in seconds, without a scratch. he refuses to ever see you in any pain.

-though, hypothetically, if there's ever a time where you do get hurt, and your wounds cannot be fixed with his wish master magic, and he's "too late", he's not so well.

-you're on a comfy little bed in the wishing room, laying on top of him. your wounds are bandaged up, and cleaned, with your breathing finally stable.

-he never leaves you side once. (sensing a pattern in everyone.) it's either him, or a copy of him. when he's granting wishes to whoever manages to make it to his wishing room, he keeps you in the cube with a copy of himself to watch over you.

-tries to make small talk with your unconscious self...it doesn't go well. the owl visits more often only to lay it's eyes upon the slum prismo is in.

-the cosmic owl tries to ease the depression, though fails miserably. if jake is still alive; his visits, brings gifts, barber sessions, the whole mile for his other best bud. it does kinda help, even if it was just a bit-- but, he's greatful nonetheless.

-while he could be doing better, prismo is doing the best out of everyone to be honest(if jake is around). jake's visits have been more than helpful to this guy, and honestly without jake, he'd be worse than just a mess.

-when you wake up he doesn't believe it at first but he's ecstatic. there is never a time where he's not with you, talking your ear off on how horrible it was without you. and while prismo wants to contuine talking you to your grave, he can't deny hearing your voice after so long does wonders to him.

-bonus if jake's around and prismo's like "and i like...really miss her. y'know? like she's right there but she's not..." "no, dude, i get it..." "i'd kill just to hear her voice just once..." "...prismo..." "ah, shit now i'm hallucinating!!" "no prismo, behind you." "jake, don't play into my delusions!" "god dammit prismo." "YOU'RE AWAKE!? FINALLY."

scarab.

-this man is already insane. he already needs therapy. the anger issues on this psychotic man are insane.

-he loses all sense of morality(that he had left) but surprisingly holds off and tends to you first. by sending you back to headquarters for someone to tend to your injuries while scarab spends the next few hours tearing their molecules apart.

-honestly the worst out everyone. like, if he has a chance to off someone, they're going to die but in the most unconventional, painful, most gruesome way possible. he's....coping?

-at this point it's hard to tell with him, one moment he's rambling under his breath about annoyances, the next....he's offically lost it!!

-sadly he can't be at you're side at all times even if he really wants to, but with his job and all that. when given any chance he's right there next to you. he excuses this behavior as protecting you against anyone who might try anything, but in reality: it's just hard to stay away when you're like this. he wants to stay close even if he can't sometimes.

-scarab has difficulties with intimacy, so he finds it difficult to express his concern the "right" way. others see him as uneffected, and taking it too easy, but he is genuinely scared. he's scared that he loses the one person who can see him for what he is. an emotionally fucked up person who can't stand rule breakers.(joking).

-he finds holding your hand a way to ease the tension.

-when you wake up, he just sitting there, holding your hand.

-he's never letting you go anywhere without a weapon three times your size. of course he teaches you how to use it, but just because he wants you to protect yourself when he cannot. scarab views your injuries as him failing as a partner in more ways than one. he should've made sure you could protect yourself even when he couldn't.

-later on after your wounds have healed you're allowed with him on his missions. he denies being scared. reassure him anyways, he really needs it.

e/n: sorry prismo's and scarab's are short! first time writing them :')

#adventure time #finn mertens #finn the human #finn mertens x reader #fern mertens x reader #fern mertens #the snowman #fionna and cake #fionna and cake x reader #icefinn x reader #the scarab #the scarab x reader #prismo #prismo x reader #adventure time headcanons #adventure time x reader #fionna and cake headcanons

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the-badger-mole · 2 years ago

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But FWIENDSHIP!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay, so you all know how I get when something gets stuck in my head, but yesterday I saw a post talking about how Katara and Zuko's potential romance messes with their friendship, and I don't understand how, but that's beside the point. This is an anti-Kataang post.

I will once again admit that I don't spend a ton of time in Kataang/anti-Zutara spaces (cause I'm respectful like that), but every so often, I see one of those takes pop up in my safe area (because respect isn't always a two way street, unfortunately). It's interesting to see how many times this take seems to crop up. Katara and Zuko falling in love would ruin their friendship, yet those same people fail to acknowledge that Bryke went ahead and ruined their friendship anyway out of jealousy. These same people also tend to hold Kataang as a prime example of Friends to Lovers, the only problem is, Aang isn't Katara's friend at any point.

Throughout the series, it's made very clear that Aang likes Katara, but for most of the series (until literally the last few seconds, in fact) it's also clear that Katara only sees him as a friend. This should have been an object lesson that sometimes crushes don't work out, but friendship can be stronger than temporarily disappointed feelings. However, that's not what we get. Aang doesn't care about Katara's friendship. He doesn't want Katara in his life unless it's in a romantic capacity. We see it in how he reacts when he feels romantically rejected (lava fissure, EIP). The narrative doesn't give Katara any space to say no to Aang without it permanently damaging their relationship, because they never had the relationship Katara thought they did. Katara thought she was Aang's friend, but for Aang, their 'friendship' was just a precursor to romance. In this, the year 2023, I know we all understand why this is a problem.

Aang can't even conceive of a world where Katara does turn him down. He dreams about her enthusiastic response to his declaration of love; he assumes that since they kissed he kissed her and staked his claim, they should be together, despite there never being any sort of conversation, and the fact that the one time he did try to talk about it, she changed the subject very quickly. Katara's feelings are an afterthought for Aang, which is terrible for any relationship, but particularly in a romantic one. There is never a moment where Aang puts Katara's emotional needs ahead of his own. He never puts a value on her platonic friendship. There's never a moment where he decides that despite his feelings for her, having Katara in his life as a friend is better than not having her at all. That moment should have happened regardless of whether they ended up together or not, because friendship is the most important component of the Friends to Lovers trope.

By comparison, the friendship Katara eventually forms with Zuko is much deeper, and based on a mutual respect, understanding and emotional support for each other. This is a fantastic foundation for a romance, although bafflingly, people who laud Katara and Zuko's deep friendship don't seem to agree. Them potentially falling in love doesn't cheapen their friendship because they actually were friends first. On top of that, their Enemies to Friends journey ending romantically would not only not cheapen their friendship, it would tie into the themes of the show beautifully (the illusion of separation; love being stronger than hate; learning to respect other people's differences etc).

Let's be real, what Kataang actually represents is The Hero Gets the Girl, and I think deep down we all know that, even the ones calling it Friends to Lovers. In the Hero Gets the Girl trope, the Girl in question doesn't really matter. She's less of a romantic partner and more a prize for the Hero saving the day. Her emotional journey to falling for the Hero mostly plays out off screen, even though she may not have even liked the Hero like that initially, and the hero doesn't ever show that he respects her as a person. For the most part it works (arguably) because the Girl isn't a character in her own right, she's just part of the Hero's story. The reason it doesn't work with Kataang is that Katara is a character. She does have her own journey, and as passionate and outspoken as she is in pretty much every other aspect of her life, it doesn't make sense for her journey to falling for Aang takes place largely off screen. Not unless you understand how little Katara's feelings matter to their relationship. Had Katara actually rejected Aang, their friendship would have ended because Aang was never interested in her friendship.

It's interesting to me to see people who claim to value friendship over romance spend more time complaining about a romance that isn't canon over the actual canon ship that really does cheapen the friendship. But then again, I guess that was never the problem in the first place.

#atla #anti aang #anti kataang #zutara #enemies-FRIENDS-lovers #that would have been worlds better than the Hero Gets the Girl ship masquerading as a friends-lovers romance #if you prefer platonic zutara that's fine #but let's not pretend that the problem is that their potential romance would spoil their friendship #not when you don't speak about how the actual canon ship completely devalued katara's friendship towards aang #be so for real #just say you don't like zutara and keep it pushing #because now the argument just looks hypocritical when you have nothing to say about kataang #the actual canon ship devaluing both friendship and consent #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

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personastrologyhub · 1 month ago

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The Journey Between What Was and What’s Next

So a little transparency post.

Right now, I’m at a transitional point in my life, and I love learning more and more about astrology because I realised how practical and fundamental it is in helping me understand myself better. I’m currently trying to really investigate and learn all there is about how each house manifests, looking into deeper interpretations of what we can learn about each part of life through the houses.

Lately, I’ve been exploring the 1st House with a lot of focus on the Ascendant. We already know that the Ascendant represents the lens through which we experience the world, so I won't get into detail about what it means assuming that we all know but nevertheless, I was looking into text and work from Howard Sasportas and I really love his perspective of the Ascendent describing it as the "maze" we navigate, which also holds clues to finding our way out. Out to greatness, and out to our sun, where we shine.

For example, as a Scorpio Ascendant, which you probably guessed, the moment I mentioned (investigate). I know there’s an association with uncovering truth. I have always been about trying to find out how things work and digging deeper, uncovering doors that people would rather leave closed.

The lens through which I see the world can sometimes be of depth, sometimes secrecy, but most importantly, it's through transformation. For me, my path involves, investigating my own inner fears and shadows, bringing them to the surface and then truly transforming by letting go of habits that no longer serve me and coming face to face with my own devil.

Doing so requires me to go deeper, to surrender and let go of control and trusting that things will work out for me, and that sometimes, things need to be destroyed so that you can rebuild.

There's a connection there, between the Ascendant and how we experience new beginnings —not just literal birth but every new phase, chapter, or transition in life will bring about or evoke the Ascendent. In the book, "The Houses" he suggests that early life experiences, particularly around birth, set the tone for how we approach these moments. For example, Capricorn/Saturn Ascendants may feel cautious or hesitant, rooted in early struggles or responsibilities tied to Saturnian energy.

Scorpio Rising on the other hand, are often marked by physical, emotional, or situational crises—a dramatic or difficult entrance into the world, may approach things with suspicion, lack of trust and the need to control everything.

I thought this was fascinating, and went to investigate and uncovered that during my birth, there was a real tussle between life and death for both my mother and me. When the doctors were delivering me, I was breached so they had to do a Emergency C section then things were going wrong and my heartbeat was raised, the process was so frantic that they accidentally dislocated my shoulder as i was being pulled out. My first baby pictures shows me in the hospital wearing a little baby sling. It’s fascinating how astrology can provide insights like this.

So for me as Scorpio is ruled by Pluto (modern) and Mars (traditional), both associated with transformation, survival, and regeneration.

Approach to New Beginnings:

Transitions for me often involve endings first—a symbolic death before rebirth.

Every new era in my life resonates with my instinct to dig deep, transform, and emerge stronger, much like the mythical phoenix rising from the ashes.

Starting this blog for me was really hard. IT WAS quite literally a tussle between my old self, thinking "will people want to read this, I'm not good enough or more knowledgeable enough than the other astrologers bloggers here and my new self that wants to rise into this new version of me where I am doing what I love to do. I snuggled immensely with cautiousness and inability to just let go and trust that it will all work out.

The Role of Intensity and Regeneration:

Scorpio Rising thrives in situations that push them to evolve. They may unconsciously attract or create circumstances that force them to confront their limits and grow.

Each new phase in life echoes the qualities of the Ascendant and the issues tied to our first house. These echoes are like subconscious patterns imprinted at birth that reawaken during transitions.

Aries Ascendant

Maze Created: Life is seen as a battleground where action, courage, and decisiveness are necessary. They interpret life as a place that rewards boldness and initiative.

Birth Symbolism: Often associated with quick or eventful births, Aries Ascendants may have entered the world energetically, perhaps as fighters, literally or figuratively.

Transitions: They approach new beginnings with enthusiasm but can rush headlong into situations without full consideration, often learning through trial and error.

Way Out: They must learn patience and strategy, realizing that not every situation requires immediate action or confrontation.

Taurus Ascendant

Maze Created: Life is seen as a place to seek security, comfort, and stability. They create patterns focused on holding onto what they have.

Birth Symbolism: Taurus Ascendants may have had slower, steadier births or situations where grounding and perseverance were required.

Transitions: They approach new phases cautiously, preferring to ensure stability before taking risks. They may resist change, needing time to feel secure in new beginnings.

Way Out: They must embrace change and let go of attachment to material and emotional security, learning that true stability comes from within.

For someone with Scorpio Rising, the story of their birth—literal or metaphorical—might hold keys to understanding their life’s themes. How do you feel about transitions? Do they mirror the intensity or struggle associated with birth? Are new beginnings met with a sense of profound transformation, or is there resistance tied to fear of change?

Understanding these patterns can offer deep insight into how we meet life and find ways to break free from the "maze" we’ve constructed.

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thegamingcatmom · 2 months ago

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Guess who? Spoiler: me, its me and I come with a question(s) bc it is 3am and my mind can't shut up (:

So I think this was mentioned previously in another ask or post but I don't remember if it went much into detail. My question is about mates and separation. It is said (dont remember if canon said something about it) that vampires have a hard time being away from their mates and I would like to go deeper into this, know your thoughts on the matter.

Like, how bad it is? How long can they stay away from their mate? Is it minutes, hours, days? Is it painful, like physically? What do they feel, like I think despair, anxiety? Are there vampires who have a better time than others?

And finally how each sister individually is regarding this 'separation' situation? How clingy are they, if they are that is? How do they handle it? Do they call a lot? Text? (They know what phones are right? Ancient creatures they are :p)

Thanks as always for the answers❤️ (this is so long and i probs forgot something but i cant think so im gonna try to sleep xD)

Hiii! <3

Totally relatable! 3am has, unfortunately, become the time my brain works on overdrive as well. Which means I usually have to quit when I feel like I'm making actual progress, because I do need to sleep at some point. 😭

Right so, I think vampires defo have a hard time being away from their mates. I don't think it's actual pain in the sense of being "physical," but I reckon it very much feels like that for them.

I also think that, just like us humans, they have different ways of dealing with that pain. Some seek the company of their other coven members, some prefer to be alone, some (try to) play it cool and don't let anything show, and so on.

With that said, how long they´re able to stay away also varies and depends on multiple factors, I´d say. It´s not just their own personality and their way of dealing with things that plays into it, but also the cause of the separation. I think the latter plays a rather big part, actually. Like, if it´s for a "good" cause then it might be a lot easier for them to endure, I imagine.

...Y´know, this kinda reminds me of Carmen and El and the things I have planned for them in The Sisters, because separation might actually become a recurring theme for them (we see a snippet of that in the upcoming chapter.) I haven´t quite decided yet how far I wanna take it, but your ask kinda makes me wanna explore how Carmen might cope with a possible long-term separation. 💔🥺

As for what they´re feeling when separated from their mate:

JOKES ASIDE THOUGH-

Truly mated/bonded vampires (thinking of James and Victoria here cause I have my doubts about those two) are like fitting puzzle pieces, shaped to align perfectly with the other. If one breaks away, you won´t have a complete picture. Other puzzle pieces might fit with some force, but it will always result in a crooked picture because it´s just not meant to be.

With that said:

I think it´s agony. Like a part of you is missing. A big part. Like, half your body, to be precise.

As for the sisters:

(yes, they do know what phones are, lmao)

(...valid question though)

Tanya would probably cope best. Or, well, she´d be the most convincing at pretending she´s alright. She´s a leader and, in my head, that´s like its "own" personality. If the situation calls for it, a switch is flipped in her head - topdog leader mode activated.

Ofc, the separation from her mate is more of a personal challenge and probably her biggest one yet. Also because it´s one she´s never had to face before meeting MC. But I still think she would handle it a lot better than her sisters...at least on the outside. Like I said, it´s like a switch being flipped, a "mental shield," if you will. She will put on a brave face, act like nothing´s out of the ordinary. She will do her damn best to function, because that´s what she always does in times of hardship. It´s what leaders do.

It might not be the healthiest way to cope with things, but it´s what she knows and feels comfortable with.

…Besides, you can bet your ass there´ll be at least 50 calls, 30 FaceTimes, and 250 messages per day.

A good leader always stays on top of things.

Kate is a lot softer than she lets on, so I think she´d actually struggle the most with being separated from her mate. She would probs try and avoid her family for the most part. As a former warrior, the last thing she wants is to be seen as "weak." Like with Tanya, it´s not the healthiest way to cope with it, but there´s still this thinking that feelings get you killed on the battlefield, y´know? There´s just some things and habits we can´t shake, no matter how hard we try. Kate being reluctant to show any kind of "weakness" in front of others is one such habit. She´s gotten a lot better at allowing and showing those feelings since meeting MC for sure, but when MC´s gone? I imagine she´d be quick to fall back into that spiral.

So yeah, you´ll probs find her in the woods, sparring with the trees or smt to get her mind off things, to distract herself from the immense distress she´s feeling over her mate being gone.

As for contacting her mate:

Hm...I´m actually torn on that one. On one hand, you have the battle-hardened warrior who refuses to show feelings. On the other hand, you have the moonstruck sap who turns into mush the moment her mate is involved in any shape or form.

With that said:

Kate would struggle with exactly that, lol. Like, it´s a constant inner battle between who she was and who she has become since meeting MC. So I can imagine her sitting somewhere, glaring at her phone, doing her best to keep herself from typing in those damn numbers or writing out that stupid message because warriors don´t show "weakness."

...She caves, eventually. And both she and MC are damn glad she did, that lovable dork.

Irina would cope better than Kate, but her struggles would still be more obvious because she doesn´t usually hide her feelings like Kate does. On the contrary, she pretty much wears her heart on her sleeve, which is also why she´s the only one (out of the sisters) who feels 100% comfortable with confiding in others about how she feels. She usually goes to Carmen when she seeks comfort or guidance, like pretty much everyone else in the coven, lol. So, when it comes to dealing with that pain, I´d say Irina defo has the healthiest way of doing it.

She also has the healthiest call/message count btw, lmao. She´s not as overbearing as Tanya (nobody is, lel), and also not as stone-faced as Kate. She gives a quick call or leaves a heartfelt message here and there, just checking in, y´know? Sometimes they´re short and sweet, other times they´re literal novels in which she proclaims her undying love over and over and over and over and over and-

...I mean, there are times where she just...she gets carried away a bit, which usually ends with her dropping everything to go and seek out her mate.

...Her mate, who went to the supermarket for a quick errand.

I mean, listen-

In the end, I think it all comes down to why the sisters have been separated from MC. They´ll probs cope a lot better if they know the separation is short-lived.

...Or maybe not, lol. *points to Irina*

Thanks a lot for your ask! Always stoked when those pop up in my inbox. 💋

#keepthethirstalive #keepthedenalisalive

#tumblr asks #twilight #the twilight saga #vampires #and their mates #the denalis #denali coven #denali sisters #tanya denali #kate denali #irina denali #keep the thirst alive #keep the denalis alive

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hermitw · 4 months ago

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I've been thinking about this reblog of yours for months and I finally figured out how to respond to it.

I went and read No Longer Human by Junji Ito and it was a very upsetting thing to go through. I don't think I can read it again. However, I came out of it thinking that Gege was probably inspired by it.

When Yozo is first introduced, I noticed that Takaba's backstory was very similar. Feeling isolated from others, he decided to become a clown to gain acceptance from others. (Citations in Image Captions)

And later when Yozo was caught "cheating" (it's in quotes because those women are child rapists), I noticed that her face was really similar to the one Higuruma's client made when he felt betrayed by the trial outcome.

There's probably a lot more to say about how themes surrounding CSA and suicide in this work are echoed in JJK, but I'm not able to make the post myself. No Longer Human is too far out of my comfort zone in terms of graphic depiction to delve into it deeper.

But you seem strong enough to handle it, so... Idk maybe run with this some more.

Ohhh this is so interesting! I could definitely read No Longer Human again - tbh I read Junji Ito's version years ago. This year I listened to the audio book and bought a copy - but it's like, a draft in the author's handwriting (bc I thought it would help me study Japanese and if I had an English translation that I'd read it on repeat lmao). But you're real for that - I forget how disturbed people tend to be trying to read through it, I'm sorry that was rough.

I did go back to read the reblog and idk how relevant all that was - I've reread the manga since and felt like, oh I might have been misremembering some things like Uraume - idk if they actually had a freeze response in ch. 219, since they did tell Yorozu to back off though it took a minute - but it's also interesting how their CT deals with ice. Like to have a fight response, they freeze others? It's so interesting but I can't be sure whether it's there at all. (ik that yap II inspired some more coherent posts, like how it influenced Choso's self-image, etc., I linked but didn't tag you back then bc I felt Annoying especially w heavy topics but I can definitely go back and find them if you'd like.)

On a twin peaks note (without spoiling it), I feel like it inspired jjk to some extent - I've been feeling like the last chapter will end the way s2 did. Or at least - with the weird dreamy themes, "we are the dreamer who dreams and who lives inside the dream", etc...

But you're right - Yozo and the others' reactions resemble more jjk characters than I would think to connect. Takaba's jokes are truly a shield... And now I have an excuse to read Junji Ito's version again? Thank u so much (also isn't it funny how September 28 Uzumaki airs and September 30 jjk ends?).

I think gege gets inspired by the most tragic stories, I wonder how much of that is accurate but I can't always be convinced otherwise.... Especially when anime / manga series that he's confirmed as influences often deal with autonomy in ways that I couldn't handle (Evangelion, the night beyond the tricornered window).

By the way - ik we've mentioned elfen lied before, but in the first episode, you know that coffee mug? How it looks like jjk foreshadowing? Even has snail head Mahito - cut off-, the baseball, Panda, the worm (also cut off).... and later the newborn babies that look just like Yuuji...

I swear that elfen lied, Kagewani, and banana fish influenced jjk. It seems so obvious w those, maybe Vampire Princess Miyu as well.

Sorry for getting off topic - I've been looking into why Momotaro keeps coming up in jujutsu kaisen, and in the end it came back full circle to that damn coffee cup. Invest in a baseball team? A zoo? I'm going insane.

All this to say - rereading Junji Ito's version and seeing if I notice similarities between manga panels is so exciting. Gege even made a note that he asked for permission before drawing - I think it was the Uzumaki CT - So we know he's a big fan of Junji Ito. And it seems like there is a rly good chance No Longer Human inspired him as well (though I feel like characters with similar traumas having similar reactions is inevitable to some extent, if they're written in a believable way, it should be clearer when I'm reading both stories in the same format) based on the stories he has officially referenced.

#I've seen those side by side panels of like. The Eva? And mechamaru vs Mahito so #This is exciting #I fear that I'm not the one to make Buddhist connections though - the books that I have are not rly in the same school but might have the #Same foundational teachings so I still think I'll read that #Or the dream and sleep one - that was so good but idk if like. Sleeping on the edge of a high thing to maintain awareness in your dreams or #I dunno I don't think I finished it bc I got into another book by the same author lmao it's been a few years #ANYWAY I have an excuse to get this book and something that I might actually be able to notice #Which is rly nice bc idk I love fixaring on jjk mysteries #mentions of sa #No Longer Human #tw csa #ask box #Junji Ito #Elfen lied #Gege akutami #jujutsu kaisen manga #jjk meta

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nikos-oneshots · 1 year ago

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hello HELLO guess who's back and is into monster prom now.

could i have some headcanons for calculester with a friend who struggles in school?

:D - 🪐

Calculester & Reader who Struggles in School.

Warnings: No beta we die like everybody in the z'gord ending ✌️ Word Count: 0.6k Pronouns: None Notes: I COMPLETELY FORGOT THIS SAID HEADCANONS UNTIL I WENT BACK TO POST THIS!! D: I'M SORRY ANON!! If you want me to remake this, then I will! Note 2: ALSO IM SO GLAD YOUR INTO MONSTER PROM ANON!! I love monster prom so much so i'm always happy to do requests for it!! I hope you enjoy!

Calculester Hewlett-Packard does really well in school. He has the internet as his brain, everything known by man at his fingertips. I wouldn’t assume he talks about school much because he knows he has a huge advantage over everybody else and doesn’t want to upset people by telling them that he has straight A’s in most of his classes. This rule especially applies to you, Cal knows that you don’t do the best in school. Whether you are a person who tries super hard and still doesn’t make it that far or decides to skip class multiple times a week, I would imagine Calculester would be clueless about your struggles.

I would think that he would only notice after midterms.

Everybody is sharing their scores. Liam is subtly bragging about how he got the highest in the school, Polly is super excited to show everybody that she got a 69 and Scott is relieved that he just did good enough to stay on the football team. You on the other hand, aren’t really happy about your score, you did your best, or maybe you didn’t, point is, you got a 20. Cal comes up to you asking about your score, you were hesitant to show him, but after he showed you his score of 89, you showed him your score.

“Oh, dear Friend Y/N. Not to alarm you, but that has been the lowest score I have seen yet. I apologize for your test failure.”

You look down in shame, you thought at least somebody would have done worse.

“I notice your struggles now Friend Y/N. If you are open to the idea, I could teach you what I know, like tutoring. Your problem may be that the strategies the professors here use aren’t effective for you to learn from. What do you say?”

You decide to take him up on his offer and once you begin your first session at the library. Calculester proves himself to be a great teacher, he knows how to tailor the way he teaches to match your learning style. You get through worksheets faster and actually begin learning the material. Along with potentially turning your marks around, you also begin to connect with Calculester more than you have already before! As you get him to talk about himself during your breaks, you learn about the way he also tutors Scott and how much of a struggle it was. You learned that even though he is a sentient computer, he still has so much he still needs to learn about interacting with others. You also learn a couple new plant facts!

When your next big test came up for your science class a couple months later, you went into it with a newfound confidence, an attitude completely different from your usual one. Calculester wished you luck, he was confident you would do amazingly, but deeper down, he was nervous for you. He dreaded the possibility that you come back with a terrible score again, he was scared that you would lose faith in him as a teacher and along with that, your trust; He could have sworn he was about to malfunction with how worried he was for you.

As you received your scores a week later, you instantly go to find Cal to show him your score. You try to hide the smile on your face, but you can’t as you give him your paper marked with a large 79 at the top. Relief washed over him and pulled you into a hug. He was so glad he was able to help you, both of your hard work paid off and he was glad that you had managed to achieve your goal with his help, validating his ability as a tutor. As the bell rang, you guys walked to your next class together. As you guys passed his classroom, you shouted to him as he was going to walk in.

“See you after school for our study session!”

Lots of Love -Niko

#🥞💡= niko writes #monster prom x reader #calculester #calculester hewlett packard #calculester x reader #monster prom #calculester monster prom #monster prom calculester

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rudystopit · 5 months ago

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iii. Let Her Captivate You│M.O'Hara

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Summary: Father O'Hara, tormented by hunger and guilt, escapes the abbey for a bar. There, he meets a woman who becomes his prey. Consumed by his monstrous cravings, he brutally attacks her while haunted by thoughts of you. As he disposes of her body, he wrestles with his monstrous nature and fractured faith.

Pairing: Priest!Vampire!Miguel O'Hara/Nun!reader

Warnings: Public sex, fingering, pinv sex, biting, murder, and ripping apart a body (very brief line about it).

a/n: its slightly gory. I'm pretty desensitize to gore but if that's not your thing then i dont judge for abandoning this fic.

word count: 2,496

masterlist

{cross posted on AO3}

𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔟𝔰 6:25 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶 𝔬𝔯 𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰.

Father O'Hara woke up at his desk. The painting is still on the floor. The shattered glass reflected the moonlight into his office. He stared at the bright shards and tried to think about what happened. He traces the grooves on the desk from his nails. He hums at the memory of you bathing in the bathhouse. A pain shot threw his body. He clutches his stomach and looks out the window. The sun had been long gone and most people were either ending the night or just beginning their exploits. His stomach screamed and he looked at the clock. It was late enough he thought.

He stood from his desk and grabbed his coat. He figured the other fathers had either left or too into their work to hear him. He stretches and unlocks his office door. Wiping sleep from his eyes, he moves swiftly through the hallways. His shoes clicked against the tiles. He figured if someone was woken up by his shoes they either wouldn't care or try to confront him but notice he's not in a good mood and leave him alone. All he could think about was getting out of the abbey and getting some food.

Once he saw the front entrance of the abbey, he darted for the door. The early spring air envelops him as he walks to the other side of the street. He quickly checked behind his shoulder to make sure no one saw him leave or tried to follow. Sweat dripped down his neck as a shiver went down his spine.

The night was delightfully warm and the street lights added a soft glow to the streets. He made his way to the bar on the other side of town. He walked with haste down the sleeping streets. He didn't care who saw him. Most would think a priest was sent to do final rites at this hour. Not that he cared what they thought. He knew if someone did see him they would ask tomorrow and he would have to come up with some stupid lie about the town a few over needed him. The town was too small to get away with the 'last rites' lie.

He kept his head low. His chest fills with guilt about what he's about to do. He catches his reflection in a shop window. His figure makes him pause for a second to look at the slight in front of him. He studies his face. The dark circles and sunken cheeks. He scoffs and continues his travels to the edge of town. He kept his jacket close to him.

He thought about the last time he ate. I swore it was more than enough, he thought. He grits his teeth and his stomach screams once more. He closed his eyes and took in the air. The crisp early blossom smell invaded his senses. He thought about your scent this morning. You had a floral aroma. He dug deeper into his memory, he wanted to know what flowers were around in the bathhouse or if you had brought your soap in. His pace quickened as he searched his memory for any clue of your scent. He tried going through all the flowers in the bath house trying to remember what they smelt like but he came up empty.

He took a deep breath in frustration and stopped in his tracks. His eyes snapped to the right of him. It was a small house. One of the types that normally had a family of one or two kids. He looked to the side of the house. A tall bush swayed in the breeze. Lilac. He walked over and held a flower in his hand. He closed his eyes and carefully brought the flower to his nose. He inhales the familiar scent. As if to ruin the mood his stomach turned once again. He groans and turns back to the street.

Once he got closer to the bar, he quickly removed his collar and shoved it into his pocket. He figured the people out this late on a weeknight probably weren't the same people who frequented the abbey but having the collar would ruin his chances to get you out of his mind. He unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt. He walked with haste to the bar. He tried to keep some wits about him and not get lost in his hunger. His mouth filled with hot bile from his stomach. He tried to ignore the feeling and try to not break out in a sprint.

He rounded a corner and headed down the alley to the bar. Spray paint littered the old brick walls as he stepped over discarded posters. He hears people laughing in the bar. A few people were outside in the alley smoking. He gave them a nod. He placed his hand on the handle and took a deep breath.

He swung open the door with so much gusto that some of the patrons looked up in horror. He put his head down and walked to the bar in shame. The bartender looks at him and figures it's a strong drink kind of night. He pours him a glass of rye and slides it to Father O'Hara. He nods and drinks. He stares at his foggy reflection of the bottles on the shelves. He hates that he has to be here. He hates what he has to do.

He feels a person sit beside him. He shifts his eyes to look at the stranger. A young blonde. She calls over the bartender and orders two of "whatever he's having." She turns to him. "Hello, I'm." he doesn't care to know her name. She goes on about how she's traveling around Europe because she "came into'' a lot of money. He fakes his interest. He's hungry and she'll do fine. He places his hand on hers and she swoons for him. She goes on about how this trip is to remember what it feels like to be free again. Her hand sits on his thigh. As he maintains eye contact with her. He can smell her overly sweet perfume, it's making him feel sick. Not including how much his stomach hurts.

He knows he needs to feed. He just doesn't understand why it's so soon; normally it takes about a month before he becomes starving. He watches her lips move. He hasn't listened to a word she's said. He can only think about how hungry he is.

He orders more drinks and she downs them one after another. She starts talking about her douche ex-boyfriend who was supposed to come with her on this trip. He said something along the lines of 'Oh then how would we have met if he was here?' She giggles and he puts on a fake smile. He keeps drinking knowing it won't affect him anymore. He remembers the one time he and Parker got plastered at an old park. A part of him longs to get drunk. But that part of him is gone now. Just like the part that could taste food. He stares at the blonde. She hasn't stopped talking about her plans after the trip. She talks about how her family would have wanted her to be a mother and settle.

Imagines of you flash in his mind as she talks. He thinks about how sweet you are. How you are content with whatever people give you. Content with whatever God gives you.

The Lord works in his own ways. He smiles at your phrase. The blonde thinks it's about something she said. He's staring at her lips. She leans into him and plants a kiss on his cheek. She giggles and excuses herself. He turns back to the bartender and orders a few more drinks for himself. The bartender strikes up a conversation with him.

"She seems quite keen on you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he says as he brings the glass to his lips.

"Might get lucky tonight then," the bartender chuckles, "But, the way you're drinking and how you haven't been paying that poor girl any mind, I think you've got someone else in mind," the bartender says his bold statement while cleaning a glass. Miguel just looks up, through his brows, and the bartender retreats to the other end. He finishes the rest in the glass and looks at the blonde coming back.

She puts her hand on his arm and sits down. He flashes a smile and she sips her drink. "I've been talking too much about myself. Tell me about yourself," she leans against his bicep and looks at him through her lashes.

He gives a fake name. Says he's from out of town and was out in the woods hunting. She swoons about the hunting part of his story. Says something about how she likes a big, strong, rugged man. He makes up stuff about his hunting trips. She asks about family and he tells her about some sob story about his dad dying in a hunting accident and his mom becoming insane with the loss of her love. Which is furthest from the truth, They both live happily in New York enjoying retirement. She asks where he's originally from since his accent is "abnormal." He lies and says from a few towns over.

Father O'Hara pretends to stare longingly into her eyes. He keeps drinks coming and acts as if she has been his soulmate. Touching her hands, her arm, slowly moved up to tuck a hair behind her ear. She leans into his hand. His hunger was raging.

"Come on," he simply says and they make their way back to the alley. Her hand in his, he pulls her to the wall and her lips try to meet his. He pulls away at the advance. He spins her around so she is up against the wall. He kisses her neck. He listens to her breathing. Her hands travel up to his hair. His hands explore her curves and begin to lift her skirt. She shifts, accidentally letting his hand slip up her thigh. Her mouth falls open at his cold hands. His fingers hook themselves around the waistband of her underwear. He dips his fingers down. A small moan comes from her lips. His stomach rumbles and he groans. He needs to hurry this up.

He removes his hand and pulls away from assaulting her neck. He flips her around and pulls up her skirt. He's completely uninterested in this. He removes himself from his pants. She turns her head.

"Wow, you're big," she sloppily said. He rolls his eyes and pulls down her underwear. He rubs his tip in between her folds. He slips into her entrance. His hand comes to the top of her back. He pushes her into the wall as he slowly slides in. She lets out a loud moan. He growls and begins his assault on her pussy. The alley filled with skin and lust. His hand holding her skirt up moves to her clit. He can almost hear her eyes rolling to the back of her head. He pounds harder, whispering in her ear to come.

He feels her tighten up and he smiles. He kisses her neck and whispers praises. She comes undone beneath him. His smile turns wicked as he opens his mouth to bite.

His fangs pierced her skin with ease. Her moans sounded more like screams but the head rush she must have... he slips out of her and begins to drain her. A flash of your face appears in his mind. He snarls and bites a chunk off of her neck. Her body falls limp to the dirty ground of the alley. He looks down. His stomach finally settled.

He picks up her body and starts to the woods on the other side of the bar. He tosses her against a tree and looks for 'his' old cabin. He had stumbled upon it a few months after arriving in town. He had asked around if there were any hunters in town and Parker said there was an older man that had recently passed and his family didn't live around here. You know it is frowned upon if a priest hunts. Parker's warning whispered through the wind.

He walks up to the cabin and goes inside to wash off his hands. He grabs the shovel from its home next to the door. He walks back to the girl and drags her deeper into the woods. He thought about how you would react if you knew what he was. He wondered how scared you would be if you knew. A pain in his chest made him understand that he didn't want you to be scared of him.

He started digging. The dirt flies behind him and the pile grows. He doesn't know why he's in such a rush. He knew no one would find him. No one goes in the woods. The townspeople fear the Beast. He smiled at the name. It was given to the bear attacks that happen in the fall and spring. The Police said it was just a bear attack but the news spun it to sound more fantastical. There's a Beast in the woods. A Bear reaching EIGHT feet! He remembers all the folks going into the abbey praying their family would be spared from its wrath.

He continued the hole to depths of at least seven or eight feet down. He looked at his work then at the body. The body of the girl swifts in his mind to look like you. His brows narrow. He sat next to the hole. He stared at you. He thought about how your skin looked in this light. He tilted his head and wondered what your cheek felt like under his touch. He thought about how he would treat you better than how this girl's boyfriend treated her... hell, even how he treated this girl. He sat there just staring at this girl's body while dreaming about you. How you did everything with purpose and how graceful you were with even the smallest movement. How you gave everyone your full attention, even Him. God. Your God. the same God that he's supposed to worship. the same God that created a monster like him. The same God that placed rules for him and forbade him to even think in the ways he was. Anger bubbled in his chest and he lunged at the body. He begins ripping her apart.

When all is done he looks around, covered in dirt and blood, he pushes the pieces of her into her grave and begins filling the hole. The somber air fills the wood with silence as he ponders why he decided to be the man he is.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #cw: gore #cw blood

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moongothic · 24 days ago

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As a crocodile theorist. Are there any crocodile theories? You just can't get on board with it & why? I know from the previous post you've alluded that you're not the biggest fan of the Croco-Former Empress theory. For me, It's Crocodile theory about him/her being the former ex-wife of Whitebeard. Many people on the JPN side of fandom like the theory but for me the whole theory gives me the "Ick". It's not that I don't believe it or think it's Impossible. I just don't like it and don't think I could ever get on board with it if confirmed true. * I'm trying to be open-minded to all crocodile theories lol*

The short answer is that if a theory is based on some very blatant misogyny or transphobia I do not give a flying fuck about it, the theory is going in the trash, where it belongs.

The long answer because I got really sidetracked writing out all my thoughts about everything ever before I realized "I could've just written the short answer above and left it there." But I already wrote all this other shit so I'm not deleting it

Personally I'm mostly just interested in speculating about what might be the most likely theories to be actually true. There are theories(/headcanons) that could be fun or interesting on their own right, but if it doesn't feel Plausible to be canon to me then I tend to have little to no interest in it. As such, for me how interested I get in a theory depends on its "narrative value" (what would it add to the story and/or change if X was true?), and how well the theory fits in the story as we know it (is there lore to support the theory and/or lore that might suggest otherwise, if not straight up debunk it? How many hoops do we have to jump through to make the theory work in canon?).

Like for example, Croc is 1/4th merman. Literally nothing to prove it or even suggest it, but it could be kind of interesting on a very subjective level. This is my personal kind-of-a-joke headcanon, I don't actually believe it, the concept just facinates me. Then there's Croc is Rayleigh and Shakky's son. Nothing to debunk it, it would fit into the story fairly smoothly, but there's nothing to really suggest it and most importantly I don't think it'd actually add anything to the story. (Former Empress didn't quite make sense as far as the timeline went but that's been Officially Debunked so yeah hardly matters anymore)

Never heard of that Whitebeard's Ex-theory, that's. Yeah that's an option right there, huh. But honestly I feel about it the same way I feel about Croc being WB's bio-son (or having been part of WB's crew). It just doesn't really add up to me. For one, while we don't know the Full Story behind Croc and WB, I do feel like the fanbase could be overthinking the relationship those two had in the past. We know they clashed once upon a time, and Crocodile lost. It genuinely does not need to be any deeper than that, Croc's beef with WB could be just that personal grudge from losing and having his dreams crushed when he understood he was too weak to become Pirate King. Another thing is that "Oda based Whitebeard on a gay man he knew, thus it is very likely WB is canonically gay", but since I still can't find any source for that rumor (just another person casually mentioning it on Reddit unprompted, aka my only proof I didn't completely hallucinate that backstory), you have to take that with a giant pile of salt And last but not least, Marco had some very choice words to say about Weevil being related to Whitebeard (from chapter 909)

If Marco of all people believes Whitebeard never had a family nor biological children with anyone (let alone dated a woman), for one that adds to the theory that Weevil was probably brought to the world through cloning/in vitro (and that WB could indeed be canonically gay), but also yeah, that makes me HIGHLY DOUBT that Crocodile could be Whitebeard's biological son EITHER, let alone WB's *EX*. (To be fair, a lot of these theories are old as balls, far older than the material we can now use to debunk them, and yeah if you'd been a fan of a theory for a long time it can be hard to let it go (when Crocodad gets debunked I am going to cry a literal river and it will be called the Nile) so like, yeah, nothing wrong with the theories existing, and they haven't been debunked quite as definitively as the Former Empress theory was with Tritoma's official portrait)

But like, yeah, for the most part I tend to be quite lukewarm about most theories for one reason or another.

Rocks' son is like, fine (if you really wanted to add something more to Crocodile's grudge against WB then this would be a very smooth way to do that), I just feel like a lot of the fandom wants to make their Special Blorbo Rocks' son (be it Blackbeard, Dragon or Buggy), and so I'm kind of biased to take any attempt at connecting any character to Xebec with a grain of salt.

Miss Buckin's first son and Weevil's older brother is. Well it was one hell of a Reddit post I'll give you that. It did not convince me but I appreciate the thought put into the theory, and there were some cool observations there that did make me go "motherfucker are you onto something"

Croc and Mingo having a shared past. I feel like this mostly comes out of shipping more than anything, canonically we know Crocodile hates Doflamingo's guts and can't stand that pink menace, so I can't imagine Crocodile having ever spent time with Doffy before voluntarily

Shared past with Mihawk. Again, feels like this comes out of shipping more than anything, and yeah to be fair I am a sucker for CrocHawk (and those two seem to tolerate each other at the very least, perhaps even have some mutual respect). But based on the conversation they had on the phone when Crocodile invites Mihawk to join forces with him, the way Croc talks about Mihawk makes it sound like they're NOT that familiar with each other. Like if they had been former crewmates, would Crocodile be inviting Mihawk by saying "you were known as the Marine Hunter in the past" and "We're the same, we don't trust anyone"? Like. If they had been crewmates or something you'd imagine Crocodile saying something more like "You know just as well as I do that we're a menace when we work together"

Former Slave + Branding was on his left hand. Discussed in the past how it could be a smidge too repetetive for THREE of the Warlords to have been former slaves. Also, now I could be just remembering poorly but I'm not sure we've ever seen anyone get branded on their limbs, just their torso? Which would make sense, the Tenryuubito putting their branding on a limb would make it ""easy to get rid of"", where as on the torso you either have to tattoo over it or remove a huge chunk of skin entirely. But yes my main hung up is Hancock and Kuma already being there

Crocodile had a sister who is Luffy's mom. I've talked about how stupid and pointless that would be. C'mon.

Crocodile's secret is that he had a crush on Girl Mode Ivankov/slept with her and is embarassed about it. That's just plain transmisogyny I hate the OP fandom so much

There's obviously other theories, ones I can't remember at the top of my head at the moment, but you get the idea. Most of these theories I feel just don't really add much to the narrative (at first glance at least), and even if they did I feel the lore makes the theory dubious/weak (sometimes for meta-reasons)

This is kinda why I'm so Unhinged about Crocodad specifically, because although it does require us to jump through some hoops and make some wild assumptions just to make it work (shit like "Dragon never told his name to Croc" etc), those hoops aren't too out-of-the-question within the story already, and some of them I feel fit into the existing lore really well (like Croc being openly trans explaining how Ivankov rose to fame as a miracle worker, etc)

Sorry this got so long and rambly. But yeah, as I said, the only theories I straight up dislike are the ones that're just platantly misogynistic and transphobic, the ones you'd throw in the garbage without a second thought anyways (like "Crocodile became a man because the scar on his face made him an ugly woman" or "being a woman is weak so he came a man to escape being a weak woman" like that's not how being trans works, is very misogynistic and transphobic, jesus fuck), you get the idea

#Moon posting #Asks #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #CW Discussions of transphobia

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tealfling · 1 year ago

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A/N: I was insipired by a post commenting on how obvious it would probably be that Astarion is a vampire to the characters. This went perfectly with my Tav and how salty she would be about being called naive by Astarion.

Astarion x FemaleTav, Named Tav, Amaranth- purple tiefling cleric

Summery: Astarion tried to convince Amaranth it would wasteful to not take the power of the Absoulte for themselves. Which is fine, he's always trying to get her to reach for more power, but he called her naive. As if her good nature made her stupid or blind. Him. His pale-assed, red-eyed, pointy toothed-self. The nerve.

Act2-ish, kinda proof read

Mentions: his scars, alludes to his backstory, and peppered in innendoes. PG-13-ish

Reflect

"You've been in the bath a long time, Darling. What's taking you so long?" Astarion drawled, walking around the divider.

Amaranth sunk deeper into the tub, her furrowed crystal gaze remaining out of the steamy water, but not turned toward the voice she recognized.

Astarion reguareded her, tilting his head. "tch. Oh, are we brooding? Moping?" he jested, "Your tail tells all my Sweet." Noding toward the slapping thud rippling at the corner of the tub. He thought for a moment. She'd been quite since they last spoke- about taking the power of the Absoult- so he carefully considered what he might have said to offend her. "Are you still upset that I called you naive?" he probed. Her eyes darted to him. Seemed so. "Don't be like that my dear, we all have our flaws-not me of course-but the others obviously," he teased grabbing a towel. "Now come out of there my Treat, there's no way that water's warm enough for you and I don't want supper getting cold." He tried to keep his air light and up beat. Whatever it was that they had going on was working, he liked his favorite traveling companion, maybe more than he cared to admit. The last thing he wanted was for her to cast him aside, especially now. They'd come so far.

Lifting her mouth out of the water, Amranth bit, "I just can't believe you of all people would think I'm the naive one."

Astarion's red eyes narrowed as he paused. "And what is that supposed to mean?" he hissed ready to take offense.

The purple tiefling turned to face him, gripping the side of the tub. "Well, since you don't know, let me paint you a picture," she said. "There I found myself on a beach, where I could hear the calls of a man for help," she said pushing herself up from the water. "When I found the man, I noticed how anemically pale he was, paler than any elf I'd seen-- and remember, Darling, I work with people preparing to be corpses," Amaranth stepped one foot over the tub. "True to form my bleeding heart fell for your siren song for help and pleading eyes, an unusual red color, by the way, but who's to say what's in one's ancestry?" She straightened, taking out the other foot and planting it to the ground, and standing tall. "Of course, this came to bite me on my sorry ass when I found myself thrown to the ground with the business of a dagger to my throat. There those red sullen eyes really bore into me, but what really caught my attention was the pretty mouth with fangs bigger than mine." She said, stepping forward to punctuate each sentence. Astarion, though unsure, held his ground as she approached. His eyes locked on hers.

Amaranth continued. "Now those, I couldn't think of an excuse for being in an elf's mouth. And all of these little things together might look a little suspicious to someone only half paying attention, but probably not anyone sauced out their mind in some tavern back-alley past mid-night. For me though, as someone that choose Deathcare as a career path, what really sells it for me are these. " Amaranth reached her hand and placed two fingers on his neck, one on each fang scar, ignoring the way Astarion flinched. "These aren't the small, tender bites you pepper across my flesh, no these are jagged and wild, made worse by these." she ghosts her fingertips between the holes, her eyes saddening. Astarion sntached her wrist preventing her from touching further. His jaw clenched, his eyes were furrowed and locked to her's, but he didn't interrupt her.

"This texture? Scars from his incisors. That son of a bitch bit you so hard he almost ripped your throat out," her voice cracked where she didn't mean and her eyes began to sting. Amaranth pulled her fingers from his neck, wanting instead to caress his check. Her wrist still trapped in his hand, she gently grazed her knuckle across his jawbone. "Sorry," she whispered smally. Astarion loosened his grip at her apologetic touch.

Trying to save herself, she joked, "You were also terribly conspicuous about the boar, Darling. Even before we even added a half-baked monster hunter to our group. So I don't see how I'm the naive one." Blinking away the wet in her eyes, Amaranth said softly, "No, I took one look at your cover and knew what kind of book you were, but I'm the one who decided to read you." She peeked at him through her lashes, "And I'm glad I did, I'm surprised by what I've found in your pages."

For a long silent moment, Astarion stared at her. Reading her or collecting his thoughts before scoffing, "I didn't realize I was so easy to read, I'll have to double my efforts for the future."

"As if you could, I'm your mirror remember? Now, hand me that stupid towel, dinner's getting cold," Amaranth said playfully reaching for the towel Astarion still held, but she failed.

With deft hands, the elf flicked the towel around her shoulders earning himself one of those darling smiles of her's he'd grown so fond of. She'd known all along. No wonder she reacted cooly, but it still didn't explain why she'd agreed to any of it. Always full of surprises. More so than him apparently. His eyes softened. She always saw him with those big, beautiful shining eyes of hers. He supposed he chose the perfect mirror. He pushed a wet strand of hair from her forehead. Her eyebrows pinched.

"You're giving me that look," she said.

"What look?" Astarion asked with the lift of an eyebrow confused.

Amaranth playfully narrowed her eyes, " That soft look. You know it makes me want to indulge you. Perhaps Gale is right, maybe I do cater to you too much."

At the mention of Gale, a switch went off in Astarion. "Gale's just jealous," he dismissed. "Here you are lecturing me naked, why I'm sure Gale just wishes he could indulge in the whole, Dinner and a Show package, you cater to me," he purred, closing in on her.

With a small eyeroll, Amaranth hummed, "You're incorrigible." She muttered an easy encantantion matching signs in her hand and instantly dried off. "All right, let's go. I think I've hogged the bathroom long enough," she said, ducking around him to grab her dressing robe.

"Lovely," Astarion said, straighting out her robe, "Now with all this talk of Gale-can we do it in my tent tonight? I want Gale to hear you indulge me." He asked through a devilish grin extending his hand.

Amaranth returned a cheeky smile, "If that's what you want. But I'm not going to be intentionally loud." She grabbed his hand to be led out the room.

"I'll see about that."

"You know I can cast Silence right?"

"Oh, you're no fun."

"I thought your whole point was that I am a lot of fun?"

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