#this was slightly inspired by the post talking about a creature wanting blood when they are not vampiric and are not Made to take that

[faesandfaunas]

There’s a simple fact to a Xerneas, they are not made to kill.

They are walking avatars of life itself, Xerxes is built far more with the intent to heal than he is to harm. He has the same capability as any other pokemon to deal damage and cause fainting as needed, but achieving actually taking a life, as the god of life? It’s slow and painful process, it’s not the sort of death that pleasantly sweeps you away into the afterlife. It’s going against everything that he is to his very core, the very idea of having to do it repulses him because of that.

But it’s not impossible for him to achieve and he will make them suffer, just as much as he is while having to work against everything he stands for. So far he’s never felt a need to do this, but someday? Who knows, his patience with cruelty has thinned over the past hundreds of years, that’s for certain.

[heyitsghost57]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing 1

Pairing: Lamb x Narinder/The One Who Waits

Chapter: Chapter 1 | My darling’s betrayal

Chapter Summary: Lamb was excited to have their final meeting with their God, their beloved, their devoted. They’re upset that this reunion is soured with their followers tagging along, though they suck it up, doing anything to please their God. How will this meeting go, Lamb wonders?

Content Warnings: blood, gore, killing enemies, obsession, idealization, and injuries

Word Count: 3k

Authors Note: credit to @maibel-mai for inspiring me to make this fic & giving me permission to post this! this fic is also cross-posted on AO3

Centuries ago, Lamb wasn’t like this. Past Lamb couldn’t imagine themselves as the cruel, desperate, insecure monster they were today. Standing in front of their mirror, it was hard for Lamb to recognize themselves as the docile creature they were before. The night before, Lamb had finally brought down the last god of the Old Faith, Shamura. Although Lamb was a skilled fighter, they weren’t left unmarked. There was a gash along their stomach, slicing their pretty wool, and their knees were scraped. A slight cut marked their face. Lamb was never known for their vulnerability and their cultist being able to see their injuries, so obvious on their face, felt like a failure to them. It would take a bit longer before their wounds healed. With bandages and their fleece worn tightly, Lamb hoped it wasn’t obvious. Before the prophecy was made, Lamb never entertained the thought of being a fighter, let alone a cult leader. Unfortunately for them, they had the perfect little mind that their God could manipulate to his liking. Back then, they had a loving family located in a tight-knit, small village. Lamb had an older brother and a younger sister, as well as kind parents. They adored their family and their quiet little life; it was simple and calm.

However, Lamb didn’t socialize well with others, resulting in them having very few close friends. It was always so hard for them to connect with those around them, though they tried their best. It was like Lamb could physically feel the distance between them and others, making it hard for them to form connections. Although Lamb loved their family, with them long gone, it was hard for them to trust others. Lamb forgot what they looked like and how they sounded, only remembering their names. The only one they truly felt a connection with was their beloved savior, The One Who Waits. Perhaps that was a warning sign of what they’d morph into all along?

Upon meeting The One Who Waits in the gateway, Lamb felt a swirl of many complex emotions. Hatred, fear, aching, and loneliness. When realizing their family was really all gone, Lamb was disturbed and their heart felt heavy. They had expected themselves to cry and pound the ground in heartbreak, though they felt too numb to do so. Tears threatened to spill, yet they were afraid of letting it happen in front of the creature towering before them. They were slightly snapped out of their state of panic when their God spoke. To Lamb, it was outrageous for him to request their life for his freedom. How could Lamb go on at all, after what had just happened? They stared at their chained hands, covered in grime with dirt caked into their nails. They wanted to scream and refuse, just wanting to be in the afterlife with their family, though they couldn’t find the words to do so. They hoped it was just due to the shock they were feeling. Certainly despite their fear, they could deny this request. This had to be the one time they could properly talk, when it mattered the most. They had survived execution and now they were met with Death himself. They could barely process the words he was saying; something about a cult and worship. They were still reeling in their head, trembling and panicking. Just seconds ago, they were laid before a blade, their hands painfully pinned to their back by chains.

However, it felt like something in them had snapped, cracking within their skull. It took them a second to collect themselves after this painful sensation, processing a change within them. Unbeknownst to Lamb, Narinder grew tired of their panicked state and used his divine powers to get them to focus on what mattered most: him. They hummed slightly, cocking their head to the side to look up at their God. Starting a cult seemed tiresome. They were never known for their social skills, but what choice did they have?

“I guess I could,” they answered, rocking on their heels and sighing. Their God narrowed his eyes at the lack of respect. Sensing his annoyance, Lamb cleared their throat and tried again. “I suppose I can, my Lord,” they mused, smiling a bit. It was a weak smile, as they were exhausted and numb. With little motion from The One Who Waits, his crown and powers were given to Lamb. Soon after they were resurrected, they felt phantom pains in their neck. There was a prickling sensation underneath their wool underneath the collar they wore. They had little time to react to this, stumbling to gain balance against the cracked stone. Their blood from moments ago stained the ground, warm under their hooves as their crown morphed into a sword.

It felt wrong to Lamb, to be killing these people. While they had just killed them or aided in it, it was hard for them to stomach emotionally. The screaming and resistance the skin gave before being pierced made Lamb wince. Their ears turned down at the sounds as they continued their slaughter. Once they were in the clear for the time being, Lamb stopped to catch their breath; they were protected by rocks preventing others from crossing without breaking them. While they did labor in the village as a woodworker, they never had to strain their body the way they did now. Their calves ached and their lungs burned. There was also the uncomfortable burning feeling of foreign energy coursing through their veins.

After catching their breath, Lamb cautiously continued to the next room. At the sight of something burrowing out of a hole, their sword was raised in defense. They were met with Ratau, a rat. He reassured them that he was an ally to their God. Lamb breathed through their nose in amusement. What did Ratau look like when he served their Lord? It seemed hard for Lamb to imagine. However, they didn’t look much better in comparison minutes ago, with a tattered tunic and their hands bound in chains.

Lamb sighed, a bit upset watching Ratau burrow underground again, before continuing their wandering through Darkwood. If Ratau knew of a way to safety, why didn’t he lead Lamb there through the ground? Their thoughts were interrupted with a chaser worm crawling towards them, trying to ram into Lamb. Their breath hitching, Lamb dodged as fast as they could. Their slow reflexes led to them getting slashed in their calf by the worm’s twigs. A low hiss came from their throat, their grip on the sword loosening briefly. They held it steady once more and cut through the worm, then the next that followed. Lamb cleared three more areas of heretics; it was already deep into the night by the time they had reached a chest. Upon opening the chest, it held a single gold coin. They huffed, looking up at the sky. They could hardly see, considering how dark it was. Their sword was covered in blood, invading the Lamb’s senses and gleaming against the red hue of the crown’s eye, so they wiped it against their cloak.

Already breathless and tired, Lamb rolled their eyes when met with heretics and a tied-up, lavender rabbit. They seriously debated leaving her there to be sacrificed by the heretics; however, they held slight sympathy for yet another victim to the Old Faith’s blade. They hadn’t noticed Lamb yet, looking through the bushes, and they convinced themselves to leave the heretics to their own devices. As they were turning back around, a sharp pain pierced their skull. It hurt much more than last time. Groaning in pain and stumbling forward, they numbly gripped their sword in front of them before lowering it when seeing Ratau. Tired, Lamb tuned out Ratau’s speech about indoctrination and fought against their foes quickly, hardly noticing Ratau moving underground again. They tried to make their work as quick and as painless as possible, as to not scare the poor rabbit more than she’d been already. It was more for their sake than hers; they couldn’t have a traumatized rabbit as their first follower.

Cutting the rabbit’s bonds haphazardly, Lamb supported her to her feet. They felt their speech failing them as it usually did, Lamb avoiding eye contact momentarily. They had to say something, though. The poor bunny was crying and whining in fear on her knees. “Don’t be scared,” they forced out, “I know of somewhere safe. You can rest there.” Their voice was meant to be comforting, though she only let out a whimper in response. The crown teleported her to safety and Lamb quickly saw Ratau again.

“We’re safe now. You’ve done well so far,” Ratau praised. Humming slightly, Lamb thought about how that praise would’ve meant more to them coming from their God. They had half the mind to ask why Ratau didn’t help them more, tired and grumpy, though they held their tongue. It was early into the morning by the time Lamb got to the cult, dried blood caking into their wool. The fact that they killed so many heretics and enemies made them sick. Exhausted from their first day as cult leader, they laid down next to the bunny, Nana.

They watched her rest. Ratau told them to order her to work. They tried doing so immediately, though Ratau argued she deserved a break. Bitter, Lamb wished they had gotten a break before getting sent to do The One Who Waits’ work. They watched her chest rise and fall as she rested, getting a much needed nap. Lamb felt emotionally tired, their limbs sore, though sleep never came to them. Groggy and opening her eyes slightly, she saw her savior and smiled briefly. Her paw grabbed their hand softly. Lamb held back a noise of disgust, their hand burning up at the unwelcome sensation. Begrudgingly, Lamb stayed still and already wished for Nana’s death.

Present day, that promise didn’t hold true. Despite it being centuries ago, Nana continued to work throughout the cult, a golden necklace clasped to her fur. She worked as a farmer and as one of Lamb’s disciples. She was one of his most loyal disciples, in fact. Lamb noted how they could use this to their advantage. Besides Lamb’s hesitancy in the beginning, they grew to be an amazing cult leader. They were kind, hardworking, and great in combat. Of course, Lamb only cared about The One Who Waits’ approval; they could care less if all their followers had fallen ill and died. It was so draining to keep up this persona. Their followers idolized them too much to the point it made them sick. Giving babies blessings, listening to the elderly’s confessions before they passed on, comforting the ill till their final breaths; it was all too much. Lamb often gave themself a pep talk before facing their cult, hyping themselves up to please their beloved.

Smoothing out their fleece and playing with their wool slightly, they sighed deeply before forcing a slight smile on their face. When Lamb rose, it was signal for their flock to rise as well. It was time for their daily morning sermon and this one was possibly the most special of them all. The night before, Shamura had fallen to their blade and their master had praised them. Just recalling it made Lamb’s heart race. Many followers gave greetings as Lamb walked past and with a saccharine smile, Lamb sweetly returned the welcomings; their daydreaming of their god was interrupted. A chime went off that rung within the common grounds, signaling everyone to gather for Lamb’s speech. Cats, deers, dogs, and many other animals huddled within the temple, watching Lamb elegantly take place in front of the altar. Their legs stilled and Lamb opened their prayer book, thumbing the pages till they found the desired scripture. Although Lamb smiled calmly at their flock, internally there was indifference. They all looked like insects to them, lesser beings that Lamb would kill to crush under their feet. It took control and strength for Lamb to not let their mask slip as they eyed their followers. It was a bit easier today, however, because they could be reunited with their beloved soon enough. A genuine smile stretched across their face at this, their heart fluttering.

“Good morning, my flock. As you all know, thanks to your devotion and our God’s blessings, I was able to kill the last of his betrayers, Shamura. With them being slayed, our Lord may finally be free from his capturing. Rejoice, for I couldn’t have done it without my devoted following,” Lamb spoke, projecting their voice so their followers in the back could hear them clearly. Animals cheered in excitement, clapping and praising their leader. The words were in one ear, out another. Their words felt so empty to Lamb, making the constant aching within themselves much more present. Swallowing down their internal hollowness, Lamb continued, “You’ll be delighted to hear that our Savior has requested your presence, as well.” Lamb smiled and let their flock express their excitement, lowering their ears at the tortuous sounds as they grimaced slightly, “I declare a Sabbath today, as it’s an important one. After years of dedication, you can finally meet our Lord.” Lamb smiled, though the thought of sharing him with others annoyed them, “That is all, my faithful. Please enjoy the Sabbath.”

Floating slightly, Lamb felt the familiar warm presence of their devotion overtake them. Their eyes turned white as they happily absorbed their faith. It felt so strong today, given their soon meeting with Death. Once it ended, their hooves met the hard floor again and they blinked until their eyes were normal again. Dismissing their following, they were quick to leave and don their Sabbath clothes. Today was important and they didn’t like keeping their Lord waiting, though to keep up appearances, Lamb let their flock enjoy themselves a little.

Before meeting with The One Who Waits, Lamb nervously breathed in. They made sure their fleece and collar were adorned properly and that their face had no blood on it from their previous escapades. They were pleased to see their past markings had healed, so they removed their bandages. For such a big achievement, Lamb had hoped for praise in private. However, he stated at least twenty of his followers had to be present for him to be freed. Begrudgingly, they complied, with their followers trailing behind them like ducklings following their mother. Though this wasn’t how they envisioned this meeting going, Lamb would hate to disappoint their lord. With all of them joined together, they prayed on the marked stone with Lamb in the center, transporting all of them to Death’s doorstep. No matter how often Lamb was sent to the afterlife, the blinding hues of whites and creams never failed to hurt their eyes. It always felt cold in here. Thankfully, Lamb had thick wool; it didn’t make it that much more comfortable though. Lamb was beaming with pride, awaiting their love’s sweet words. They felt giddy and butterflies filled their stomach, their face flushed while being in the same realm as their God. They were snapped out of their delusions when they noticed they were met with weapons and curses at their disposal. The sight of it made their stomach drop. While he had mentioned Lamb would “lay down their life for him,” they didn’t take it literally. They thought it meant they’d spend the rest of their life devoted to him, which seemed like a dream. Lamb’s hopes were being crushed before them.

He spoke of how with Lamb’s death, he’d finally be freed and stronger than ever. Thinking to himself, Narinder was proud of his vessel’s work. He decided he’d give them a merciful death and they’d have a peaceful ending before being resurrected again, always at his side. Although he didn’t like admitting it, he had grown attached to this vessel in particular. He grew fond of them and wouldn’t mind their relationship developing into more. He brought a single claw down to Lamb’s head, patting and stroking the soft wool softly. It made Lamb’s breath quicken and despite this betrayal, they couldn’t help feeling swooned momentarily. Lamb wished time would stop here, with their beloved’s affectionate touch being all they felt. He didn’t know what he did to them. Weak to his touch, Lamb wanted to drop to their knees and be held in his hand. Lamb let out a slight whine, sighing. They felt dizzy. Lamb usually welcomed their God’s touch, but now it felt slightly tainted. The idealization Lamb held for their savior lessened slightly due to this betrayal.

He didn’t seem that bothered by losing his vessel, which stung. It brought out an icky side of Lamb they tried hard to control. Although Lamb had died countless times before, sometimes to their own blade just to see their savior, this was different. If Lamb kneeled for their sacrifice, that meant their beloved would eventually get someone new to worship them. Not a new vessel, but perhaps a new disciple. The thought of that made them sick, their face flushing slightly as possessiveness overtook them. They couldn’t let that happen; they forbid it. Narinder was theirs, their God, their beloved, their savior. It was fate that Lamb was the last sheep to be sacrificed. It had to mean something; it couldn’t just be a coincidence. It was destiny for them to meet their God. No, Lamb thought, he doesn’t really want this, he just doesn’t know it yet. Staring up at their God, Lamb felt hurt. It was very similar to when they were first resurrected in his domain, with that familiar helpless feeling they hated. Lamb couldn’t let him be taken away from them. He was theirs and they were his. It was fate. Fueled by their need to have their God as their own, Lamb refused to kneel. Although they didn’t know it yet, this was the best decision Lamb had ever made; to Narinder, this was the worst outcome possible.

previous chapter | next chapter

[lunasuccor]

Alone Together

Hiei x (Fem)Reader

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Author’s Note: This fic came from the inspiration I got from reading other user’s works about Hiei and being such a huge fan of his character. Mainly written for me and my friend a fellow Hiei enjoyer, this is kind of a feel good type fic that has a lot of buildup playing on his curiosity and softer side. When I first wrote this I never thought about posting it anywhere, but the more I wrote the happier I was with it, and near the end I realized how proud I was of it and wanted to share it around. I may be posting another part or two, and if I do, feel free to send me an ask with suggestions if you liked this one :) enjoy!

TW: Blood, Hickeys, Biting, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Pinning Down, Minors DNI, 18+

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Everyone had been asking why you were suddenly taking a different route home from class, not walking with your “friends”, and even going a good distance out of your way. Your explanation was always the same, that you just like being able to walk by the water - a lie of course. Your interest wasn’t so much the water glistening during the sunset, but a person who sometimes could be found there. Ever since you were young you’d seen and felt things you couldn’t explain, like the creature that knocked aside your parents car like a toy back when you were in middle school. Of course no one believed you, that your parent’s death in that crash was no accident, so you had learned to keep whatever you were seeing and feeling to yourself. Maybe that’s what drew you to him, the dark haired boy dressed in black, sometimes laying in the grass by the river other times miraculously standing on telephone poles nearby. You never really gave how he got up there much thought, all you knew was that like you, he seemed to be so alone.

Finally, you reach the river and like everyday, give a cautious glance around for the mysterious boy. Despite your numerous trips this way passing him, you’d never dared speak to him or even given him more than a passing glance. You’ve put yourself out there far too many times in an attempt to make friends, only to have your hand slapped away. It was enough that you and the boy could share in this moment of silence together as you strolled by, that, and your own imagination. But looking down the street you notice him, with a group, and your heart sinks. You retreat back behind the building, sliding down the side of it to sit on the ground, pulling your legs in. Of course he’s not alone, no one would be as lonely as you are.

You lean out from the side of the building to get a look at them all. The tallest one had orange hair in a pompadour, which was….certainly a style choice. Both him and the other dark haired guy looked rather plain, average even. The third guy had pretty features and long red hair, and then there was him. Though you’d never noticed before quite how short he is, it hardly seemed to matter, as his voice and demeanor easily dominated the conversation when he felt the need. You suddenly felt your face turning red, and realized you probably shouldn’t think about him and “dominate” in the same sentence. You shake your head to dismiss such thoughts and then you notice his ear twitch ever so slightly, he motions to turn his head but you’ve already retreated back behind the building. After a moment, you dare another peek and try to focus on what they’re saying, the boy seems to be disagreeing with something. Suddenly through the groups arguing you hear “C’mon Hiei”, which he seems to answer to.

“Hiei” you repeat back to yourself under your breath, though somehow he seems to have heard and whips around in place, and you can no longer be sure if he was able to see you as you darted back into hiding. Still you listen as they seem to resume talking, causing you to sigh in relief. You sit for a while with your eyes shut, listening for them to finally leave so you can finish walking home. Letting your mind wander, you think about how you’ll go about trying to approach him the next time you come this way. Not that you’d ever have the courage to do something as bold as that, besides you feel it’s doubtful he’d be interested in someone like you anyways.

After some time you hear them saying goodbyes and breathe a small sigh of relief, you open your eyes to get ready to go and yelp involuntarily. There Hiei stood mere inches from you, his stature meaningless since you are sitting on the ground. He stares daggers at you saying nothing, perhaps expecting you to merely flee yet you sit there frozen, staring at him as well like cornered prey. After a moment, your heart begins to pound in your chest, you’ve passed him countless times but never been this close. As much as you hate to admit it, you enjoy having him stand over you like this, right now he may as well be 8 feet tall. You yourself feeling so small and helpless, your mind spirals thinking about the possible things he could do to you. Suddenly, Hiei also blushes, seeming almost embarrassed and angry.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT??” he blurts out before turning around seemingly to hide his face as he seethes.

“I…what?”

“Listen girl, I’m a demon, it would take less than a second for me to kill you.” He says turning around and pointing at you accusingly. “The idea of what I could do to you that would stimulate your sexual human desires should be the last thing on your mind! Now who are you, why were you listening in on our conversation and what are you doing here?”

You sigh, tell him your name and continue on to explain everything, he listens but clearly seems annoyed nonetheless. It feels rather strange that Hiei was just a stranger a few minutes ago, yet you find yourself so comfortable with him, demon or no. Hiei is surprisingly silent even as you finish explaining, perhaps some part of him understands your feelings, or maybe he’s just being polite - not that he seems like the type.

“So, is it…still okay if I come this way after school? Maybe talk with you?” You ask sheepishly, Hiei merely giving a vacant stare as though considering it, he closes his eyes and turns away.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you that demons can be dangerous, and if you talk don’t expect me to converse with you.” Turning just his head to look at you, Hiei appears to be deep in thought, hesitating even.

“What’s the matter?” You ask tilting your head to the side, confident that he’s merely trying to find the words.

“...What even is ‘making out’ anyways” he says plainly, causing you to snicker a bit but turn red once more all the same. “Those words seemed to cross your mind a lot when I read it earlier, so what is it?”

“Um, well…it’s like you touch your lips together in a kiss but like, over and over. It’s what people do when they have a connection or you know like each-” You barely manage to get your description out at all then abruptly Hiei grips your side pushing you against the wall merely collapsing before he presses his body against yours to hold you up. He is warm, and a scent reminiscent of a campfire wafts about him, using his other hand he cups your face. Hiei’s staring at you once more but now there’s a curiosity in his glare, like he’s studying your reactions and wondering if they’re the right ones. Grabbing you at the back of your neck he pulls you down somewhat - into a kiss, your heart flutters and his warmth seems to spread through your body. After a moment, he pulls away, still keeping your faces touching.

“Is this what you had in mind, how you pictured it?”

You find yourself unable to find the words to answer but manage a few quick nods, Hiei then takes this as reassurance and kisses you again, then again.

Despite supposedly not knowing what making out was, he quickly finds his rhythm, even starting to grip your hair causing you to moan softly. You feel your breath getting heavy and the growing excitement between your legs, when suddenly he stops, pulling back to look at you while quite red himself. Slowly, he pulls away as you get your balance back, then turns on his heels taking a few steps away.

“Interesting.” Hiei says without turning around, and in a flash he’s gone. You slump back against the wall trying to process what just happened, soon enough however, you collect yourself and head home.

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The next day went by in a blur, all you were able to think about was Hiei, about feeling his warmth again. As you walked to the river, you couldn’t help hoping he’d be there and in the mood to talk - among other things. You shook your thoughts away once more, after all Hiei seemed to do what he did out of curiosity more than anything else. Turning the corner to the river, you peek around for your mysterious ‘friend’, and there he was - laying in the grass on the hill without a care in the world. Doing your best to still your rapidly beating heart, you approach, stopping once the sidewalk meets the grass.

“Hey Hiei, it’s me *****.” you provide your name again half expecting him to have forgotten you, he doesn’t open his eyes but answers you nonetheless.

“Yes, I knew it was you, human.”

“Is….it okay if I sit with you?” You request hesitantly, yet Hiei still does not move, hands supporting his head and his dark coat billowing in the wind.

“As I said, do whatever you like.” Hiei answered you plainly, he almost appears mad - frustrated even, although he’s doing his best to hide it.

Regardless you quietly step through the grass and sit a few feet beside him, setting down your bag as well. You sit for a moment enjoying the gentle breeze, the sunset glistening on the river, the soft fresh grass beneath you. You may have been alone and sat in silence for much of your life, but never like this, sitting beside Hiei gave you a comfort you’ve never known. He can struggle to hide it all he likes, but you can sense Hiei more than simply tolerates your presence, perhaps even enjoyed the moment you shared yesterday.

“You have an unusual level of spirit awareness, you know.” Hiei said suddenly, shattering the silence and startling you.

“Spirit Awareness?”

“...Demons can make themselves invisible to humans in this world, I’m doing it right now, and usually am for that matter.” Hiei turns his head towards you and opens a single eye as he talks. “So right now, you look crazier than everyone already seems to think you are.”

“...That’s…fine, I’m comfortable here - with you.” You manage to force the words out while looking away, and when you turn your gaze back, he’s staring at you. It’s just like yesterday, he’s gauging your reactions, searching for anything you might be holding back. You get the distinct impression he doesn’t spend much time around people, and he’s learned to be cautious, never risking giving something away he shouldn’t.

“You’re a strange one, finding comfort beside a demon.” He turns his head back to stare at the sky before continuing “You have no idea the things I’ve done, the things I’m capable of doing.”

“I’d say you’re a strange one for finding comfort with me then.” You cover your mouth unsure where you even got such an absurd idea in your head, but then again he does seem interested in you doesn’t he? Looking back at Hiei you see he hasn’t moved or reacted, perhaps he didn’t hear you? Just then he laughs, sitting up to lean back on his hands.

“Oh? I tried out a single human gesture, let you sit here with me, and that must mean I’m utterly infatuated is that it?”

“Typically that’s what would happen, yeah though not necessarily in that order.” You explain calmly once he’s finished attempting to make a fool of you. “However, maybe it’s different for demons.”

“If you must know, mating simply isn’t as big a deal.”

“Is that so? Then you didn’t feel anything after yesterday?” You retort but Hiei seems to have lost interest as he turns back toward the river leaning on one knee, at least so you thought. Even with the sunset turning the river into a shimmering stream of golden light, you can still see Hiei’s cheeks redden as he thinks to himself. You inch closer, again taking in his woodsy campfire scent, Hiei only turning to look once your shoulders are nearly touching.

“That feeling? Your body, sending the blood rushing to your face like that.” You whisper to him, even reaching out to poke his face to make your point, but Hiei continues to stare unflinchingly. “That's what gave me the idea you’re comfortable with me.” Feeling ever bolder, suddenly you cup his face in your hand, and kiss him - a long heartfelt kiss. You feel the familiar warmth spread through your body as Hiei hesitantly places his hand on yours, gripping it tight enough to pull grass up with it, as though he was afraid to get lost. When you pull away, Hiei’s expression fades back to normal ever so slowly, and he turns to face the river once more without another word.

After sitting together for a while, you finally attempt to get to your feet, only to realize Hiei is still holding your hand. You lift up your hand and Hiei turns, watching you curiously. Removing your palm from his grip, you then slowly take the opposite hand and interlock your fingers with his. You then give his hand a gentle squeeze and Hiei gives a much rougher squeeze in return, though he seems to get the idea. You smile and take back your hand but Hiei merely lays back down onto the grass with his eyes closed as he was when you arrived. Picking up your bag, you make your way back to the sidewalk, but stop when you hear Hiei call your name.

“See you tomorrow.” He uttered the words so simply, but you could feel the weight that was behind them.

“See you tomorrow.” You repeat back with more enthusiasm, then noticing the faintest smile on his face, you smile and head home.

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Another day of class, and another day of doodling poorly in the margins of your papers, constantly distracted by thoughts of Hiei. You haven’t been able to stop from wondering what else Hiei might’ve seen in your mind that day, what else he might be curious about. Funnily enough, you’ve never fallen for anyone, even your kiss with him was your first. Still what you lack in experience, you make up for in imagination, and the long list of dark romance movies you’ve seen has given you plenty to think about. You reach your typical meeting spot but Hiei was oddly nowhere to be found, you give the area a good once over to be sure, but eventually resign yourself to sitting back down in the grass.

Besides your spot you can still barely make out the indent in the grass where Hiei was laying just yesterday, you smile until a chilling thought slips into your mind. Remembering Hiei’s words about how crazy you must look to people since he’s invisible to everyone without Spirit Awareness, you fold your arms, looking back toward the river. After a moment you grip yourself tighter, reassuring yourself that you’re not crazy, Hiei is real and he’ll be here. Giving Hiei’s spot in the grass a few quick side glances, you take a moment to look around again, it’s mostly warehouses around here so there is rarely anyone around as usual.

“Hiei? Are you here?” You ask the open air beside you, considering that maybe your Spirit Awareness isn’t high enough to see him today, you have no idea how that works after all.

Suddenly, you’re startled by laughter from behind you, it seems you somehow failed to notice a group of boys from your class walking by on the sidewalk behind you. You blush and turn back towards the river, thoroughly embarrassed and hoping they didn’t notice you talking to thin air. Closing your eyes and burying your head in your arms, you sit there a while, reassuring yourself once again that you’re not crazy. Finally, after the boys have long gone and the dark of night begins settling in, you get up and head home.

————————————————————————

The next day you’re heading back, and although you get the feeling you’re being followed for some reason, you push on regardless. Hoping that yesterday he may have merely been busy, you hold out hope that Hiei will return today, even having thrown on some makeup and the star earrings you have left from you mothers belongings. Cautiously, you approach the river again, only to discover Hiei is once again absent. Even the indent in the grass has since stood back into full vigor, you make to approach the grass to sit but stop on the sidewalk, considering just heading home instead of waiting in futility. You’ve come this way for over a month now, and Hiei was always in this area, the fact that he hasn’t been here might mean he won’t come back.

“Did you come here to talk to yourself again girl?” A voice calls out behind you and in your desperation you whip around.

“Hiei?” You blurt out, only to see the boys who were walking by yesterday, you collect yourself as best you can and stand up straight. Though it’s not enough to hide the fact that you’re blushing in embarrassment, and the boys chuckle to themselves, certainly at your expense.

“Is that your imaginary friend’s name? It sounds like even your imaginary friend has left you, huh?” The other boys chuckle to themselves again, and you hold your bag tighter in your arms, you can’t believe you mistook this guy for Hiei and the frustration shows on your face.

“Hiei is not imaginary.“

“Isn’t he? Everyone who comes by here says you’re a freak who’s been talking to yourself.”

“That doesn’t make it true.” You insist back, though even now you’re second guessing your actions, one of the boys grabs your arm but you pull away.

“Why don’t you just admit you’re a freak, and this worlds better off without freaks.” He says back before nodding and the boys get a better grip on your arms.

“Stop it! Cut it out!” You cry out, but no one comes to your aid, the sound echoing off into the distance, before being drowned out by the sound of the river. The boy lifts his hand, taking hold of one of your earrings.

“You may be a useless freak, but these sure seem like they’d be worth something.”

“Those were my mothers, stop!” You yell and scream, but he gets a grip on it regardless, and instead of removing it he simply pulls it down. Tugging your ear harder and harder still, you stop struggling not wanting to hurt yourself but it doesn’t matter, he tears the earring straight out of your ear lobe. Tears start streaming down your face, it may be a small cut in your ear but between that and realizing you’re truly alone it’s just too much. You hear something faint over your crying but everything is such a blur, you can barely feel when he reaches for your other ear.

“Move another muscle, and I’ll end your pathetic lives.” You heard it that time, the voice and tone unmistakable, it’s Hiei. Sure enough his voice is enough to make the boys freeze, easing their grip on you as they turn their heads.

“What the-”

“I didn’t give you permission to speak worm.” Hiei’s voice sounds more aggressive, as though he’s teetering on the edge of erupting, similar to how he seemed to speak with that group before. “Release her. NOW.”

Shuddering at his words they comply, letting you slip carefully to the ground, you grip your ear keeping the pressure on it. You’re in a lot of pain, but you continue to shed tears of joy all the same. You slowly look over at Hiei several feet away through your tear-filled eyes, and he’s giving you the same stare he always has, though there’s a heat behind his eyes. He raises his head to stare at the boys, now backing away from him besides the one who ripped your earring out. In an instant, he closes the gap and has drawn a sword he’s touching to the boy’s throat, his expression unchanged. Each of the other boys starts freaking out and starting to calm down yourself, you can see why, their ears have been cut in a similar fashion to yours.

“I suggest you return that, before I make you.” Hiei hisses at the boy, he drops it onto the ground near you and raises his hands. Unsatisfied, Hiei slashes across the boy’s already bloody hand, though it doesn’t appear deep. Clutching his palm, the boy backs up to his friends and they run off. Hiei places his sword away and kneels down to your level, you can’t help but smile regardless of the state your face is in. “And just what are you grinning about?” He demands while placing his palm gently on your head.

“I’m just happy to see you.” You say simply, then Hiei gets to his feet offering you his hand and helping you up.

“You really followed me, Kurama?” Hiei questions as he turns his head, all the while keeping a firm hold on your hand.

“You can hardly blame me, Hiei.” Kurama answers as he steps out from the shadow of a nearby alley, he’s the pretty boy with red hair you noticed Hiei talking to the other day. “You were in such a hurry to get back to the human world, and I know all too well that’s not like you.”

Hiei gives a sharp exhale, tips his head in your direction, and releases your hand. Kurama steps over to you asking to see, and in seconds he’s healed your ear, apologizing that you’ll have to get it re-pierced. After a handshake and a quick goodbye, he takes off walking away, apparently not nearly as concerned about making a snappy exit as Hiei. Hiei takes a few steps away in the other direction, then stops and turns to you over his shoulder, staring at you expectantly.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” His voice much calmer now, he waits for you to grab your other earring, and you catch up to him offering your hand. Hiei hesitates, then holds your hand just as you had instructed the other day, obviously the difference in height between you makes it difficult but you make due.

————————————————————————

Hiei is silent most of the way home, despite the fact that your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest, being this close with him feels like a dream. Still a few blocks from home, he speaks up.

“I had something to take care of, duties, obligations.”

“I gathered. You don’t need to apologize, Hiei.” You respond in kind, but Hiei merely stops on the spot, unmoving.

“It was just humans this time.”

“What?”

“It could have been worse.” Hiei sounds tense, though not angry, like he can’t just bring himself to voice his concern.

You gently tug on his hand, and Hiei continues moving with you. When you reach your door at the apartment building, he stops again, releasing your hand. You unlock and open the door, Hiei turns away but you catch his arm.

“How…um…how much of what I was thinking did you see the other day?” You ask hesitantly, but he does not respond, and only turns back toward you. You pull his arm out of his pocket, and gripping his hand, you lead him inside.

Once you’re both inside, you set to work attempting to tidy up a bit, since you haven’t had a guest in - ever. Hiei looks about and finding your coat hooks, he removes his in one swift motion, placing his sword down gently near it. He takes a few more cautious steps into your apartment carefully taking in his surroundings, then stopping when he notices your open bedroom door. Once you’ve finished you walk over to where Hiei is and take his hand once more.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He whispers, usually you have a good idea of what Hiei is thinking, although he’s quiet his body is rather honest. Yet you can’t figure out what’s on his mind right now, maybe despite his usual calm collected attitude you’ll have to walk him through it.

You take his face in your hands and kiss him deeply, He returns the gesture whole heartedly. Pulling away, Hiei manages to sweep you up in one quick motion, princess-carrying you to your bed. Setting you down gently, Hiei wastes no time climbing on top of you, taking only a moment to gently caress your cheek. Staring at you and once again reminding you of your first meeting, a beast who’s cornered his prey, except you’re far more willing.

Hiei leans in and kisses you, letting slip a moan you lay back helplessly as he trails a line of them down your neck. You reach up to feel his side through his shirt, gripping it needily, your other hand snaking around his arm as his hand travels up running fingers through your hair. Slowly Hiei’s grip begins to tighten, tugging ever so playfully at your hair before biting down on your neck lightly, putting just enough pressure to leave his mark. However, it’s little more than a tease, Hiei’s taking it slow likely out of fear of hurting you. You mumble under your breath, and Hiei pauses to listen as you find the words in your throat.

“Harder . . . please.” You whimper to him and Hiei hesitates before obliging, getting a firmer grip on your hair, biting your neck deeper, sucking a second more intense hickey into your skin. His sharp canines threatening to pierce your skin, you yelp and moan all at once, your breathing getting heavier as you grip Hiei’s arm harder for comfort. When he pulls back you can hear him almost panting, his warm breath further teasing your sensitive new bruise. You lock eyes for a moment, your lips crashing against one another the next, your hands exploring each others aching bodies. Hiei’s hand traces teasingly over your breast, quickly throwing your uniforms tie aside and gripping the top button of your shirt then stopping.

You give a quick nod before tugging up his shirt in turn, Hiei instead taking it from you, repeating his previous trick and removing it in an instant. You giggle under your breath and Hiei gives a small smirk, kissing you again before moving back down to your neck, his fast hands making quick work of your shirt buttons. You take a moment to revel in his kissing while tracing your hands over his arms and back, his skin was warm, inviting to the touch, and coated in several scars depicting a lifetime of battle and hardship. It made it all the more comforting that he was being so careful with you, while so vulnerable at the same time.

Suddenly Hiei pulls your shirt open, and you sit up to remove it along with your bra. Placing his hand at the curve of your waistline, he ever so slowly moves upward towards your chest, teasing you. Taking and massaging your breast with one hand, Hiei kisses around your other before beginning to suck on your nipple, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. You squirm and moan beneath him from the sensation, running your fingers through his hair once more, the excitement beginning to grow between your legs.

After alternating, giving your chest the ample attention it deserves, Hiei gently traces his fingers down, slowly pulling up your skirt as he wraps his other arm around you. Coming to rest his hand over your underwear, you become aware of just how wet you are with excitement and moan, Hiei smirks as he pulls your panties aside. Runing his fingers along the wetness of your entrance, he teases it while rubbing his slicked thumb over your clit, you whimper in between moans.

“Please Hiei…” you beg and Hiei obliges, slowly inserting one finger, then two. You gasp from the sensation flowing through you and Hiei takes your exhale as a sign, beginning to slowly fuck you with his fingers, still tracing circles over your clit with his thumb. You cling tighter to Hiei, the edges of the room starting to soften, he holds you closer as you quickly begin approaching that peak. It all feels so surreal, of course you’ve touched yourself before, but here with the boy you’ve pined over for so long feels leagues more intense. You stare up at Hiei and he kisses you, moaning against his lips as he curls his fingers while maintaining the rhythm, quickly bringing you to a rather loud orgasm your muscles gripping fingers nearly in place.

You struggle to catch your breath in Hiei’s arms, his hand still idly teasing your entrance, he stares at you with a half smile still breathing heavily himself. Having calmed down a bit you run your fingers along the top of Hiei’s pants, taking a quick look at how excited he himself is, you flick your gaze back up to meet his.

In a moment you’ve both removed the last of your clothing, Hiei kissing you while lightly pushing you back into your place on the bed, you moan feeling the gentlist graze of his dick over your clit. Lining himself up, he begins grinding himself against your wetness, trailing kisses over your neck while pinning your hands above your head. Holding your wrists in place with one hand, he brings the other down to massage your breast once more, you can’t bear to hold back moaning as his kissing moves further up your neck.

“Hiei . . .” You barely whimper out between moans, yet he only nibbles your ear in response.

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it *****.“ Hiei whispers directly into your ear, hearing him say your name sending a shiver down your spine in the best way.

“Please. . .fuck me Hiei.” You beg in desperation, finally able to get out the answer that Hiei already knew.

With that, Hiei sat up somewhat to steady himself, flashing you a mischievous grin. You bite your lip, running your hands over his shoulders and back. The next second you can feel him starting to part you, moaning as you throw your head back, Hiei’s dick enters you slowly and completely as his hips meet yours. He moans along with you, leaning lower to wrap a protective arm around you, he pauses for a moment as if he’s overwhelmed which isn’t surprising given how tightly you feel yourself gripping him.

Then Hiei begins slowly but steadily fucking you, just as you begged, your nails now digging into his back. Keeping his pace as his eyes lock with yours, you kiss eachother deeply, and Hiei speeds up. Pounding his hips into yours, you can feel yourself approaching the peak again already, and based on Hiei’s sounds of pleasure you imagine he is too. Placing a hand on his face, you smile up at him, Hiei is thrusting hard when he suddenly cums and you along with him. The feeling of him filling you up pushing you over the edge, Hiei moans deeply between reaching the peak and your orgasmic grip on him as he does.

————————————————————————

The remainder of the night is a blur as you wake up, groggily rubbing your eyes you wonder what happened, your room is still a mess but theres no sign of Hiei.

Looking over at the clock, you realize you’re going to be late for school and hurriedly get ready. As you’re brushing your hair, and despite the bit of bruising on your neck, you can’t help but wonder if your night with Hiei was all a dream. Afterall, you can’t remember falling asleep after . . . on second thought, you probably shouldn’t think too hard about it in fresh underwear. Struggling to slip your shoes on, you grab the doorknob and pull it open. There leaning on the railing was Hiei, who turned around when you stepped out the door, you could feel your heart practically jump into your throat. Hiei sat staring, disinterested as usual, then held out his hand.

“Come on *****, I’ll walk you there.”

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Part Five: Interrogations

First Installment: Here.

Last Installment: Here.

Current Installment: You are here!

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson. This installment of the Viking-time-travel au sees Arthur ever so polite, some light torture and gore, some slightly tenderized federal fillet and some primo semi-sane eldritch Mattie. This should be the last use of humans.

21st Century

Washington DC

Diplomatic Security Service

It was easy enough. Two minutes in the car, three key card swipes of Alfred’s ID cards Matthew had lifted from his apartment, four steps past the secretary’s back as she left for the night. Five more as he entered a shitty little office in some shitty little government building.

“Good evening,” Arthur, in the very image of proper manners, greeted the man sitting behind the desk, hand extended to introduce himself. "Arthur Kirkland, I believe I may have some business with you."

“They said you might come.” Corcoran muttered. He didn't shake Arthur's hand. His son’s handler was a paunch-laden man with a red face and puffy hands named Cocorcan in his forties. He was only somewhat familiar to Arthur, as Alfred had been on his best behaviour lately, studying hard to fling himself off the planet again. No one serious had been given the post for some time.

"Did they do? I am glad to hear it! Hopefully, that will help us smooth this along!"

“What… would that be?”

“I haven’t heard from my son, your chief responsibility, in some time.” Arthur had not sat. He ran a finger through some dust on a shelf holding official-looking framed certificates and made a face—Corcoran sweat. Arthur squashed his pleasure. “Now, why would that be?”

“I’m sure service is spotty.” Corcoran tried. And failed.

“Is that so?” Arthur countered. “Are you quite sure about that?”

"It's a space station. How reliable could cell service be?” Corcoran gave a pathetic shrug.

“You may want to consider your answer. You have one more opportunity before I hand things over to my associate, if only because Alfred is ever so fond of the inept fools put in charge of him. Have you anything to say about that?”

“Like I said—”

He didn’t get another word out before the blood had drained from his face. Matthew appeared at Arthur’s shoulder, and Corcoran looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“You’re dead, they dragged you out of Hudson Bay!” Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Is that right?" Arthur glanced at Matthew. Honestly, it was more difficult to keep him alive now that he was grown than when he was small. Well, grown. Overgrown. He took in the lad's height. They would have to talk about that. And the Matthew did look like he’d been dead for a day or two, but that was par for the course for his boy when stressed. Somewhere between refusing to cry and appearing at Arthur's, his face had transformed into the one Arthur had rarely seen in recent years. His son had not been a creature of the shadows for some time, and the sharp points of his face were predatory. “Well, that would explain how uncontrollable he’s become! Made quite a mess. Come back wrong, did you lad?”

Corcoran didn’t respond. He put his hand to his waist, where there would be a service pistol. Matthew was faster, his fingers finding the attaching small joints of Corcoran’s dominant hand and pinching so tightly that Corcoran’s grip jumped open. One smooth motion saw the man’s face smushed against the wall, one arm flailing, the other bent at an extreme angle behind his head. Even the smallest resistance would see the shoulder pop out at a sickening angle. It was Matthew’s favourite grapple. The maneuver didn’t require strength, and he efficiently used his stronger left hand and great height. Smart lad.

Matthew easily disarmed him, kicking the pistol across the floor, then an out-of-date mobile phone. Arthur pocketed both. And then, looking happier than he had in days, Matthew put the tip of his old paratrooper knife against the man’s jugular.

"You can start talking, or I can start cutting." The knife's point rested against the man's skin, and Matt stared hard into his eyes as the Corcoran dragged his head to stare out at Matthew. Matthew hadn’t slept, which would be evident to anyone, but his son was unstable. Arthur knew better. Matthew looked unpredictable, unhinged and half mad, precisely what the situation needed. What had been frustrated tears were now red-rimmed eyes on a sharp, bone-pale face. He looked out of control, breathing hard, his eyes narrow, desperate and… oddly gleeful. “You choose.”

"I'm afraid the lad is rather handy with his whittling." Arthur added as if noting the weather was particularly pleasant that day. He pulled the points of his waistcoat down and leaned over. “Won medals when he was a lad. I suggest doing as asked.”

“I can’t!”

“Loyal to your country, are you?” Matthew asked, his voice hardly audible. Soft and insane. “Might want to give that loyalty a second thought."

Shot through with pride, Arthur suppressed a smile and clicked his tongue in a scolding way, and shook his head, like Matthew was being petulant about naptime. “Just answer a few questions, and this will all go away.”

“You can't do this! It’ll be right to the electric chair for both of you.”

“Just because you kill me doesn’t mean I’ll die.” Matthew’s pressure on the blade increased; just enough that blood trickled down Corcoran’s jugular. The man trembled. Matthew put his face closer to Corcoran’s jaw. “You did something to my brother. My brother. His laughter was the first thing I knew of humanity. And you’re going to tell me where the fuck he is or you will never hear another laugh. Neither will your wife or your children. Anyone who ever knew you will know nothing but the silence I have endured. There will be nothing but winter where you once knew joy.”

Jesus Christ. Arthur blinked, once and then twice. Well, the boys had always been fond of each other.

Corcoran whimpered. Arthur rolled his shoulders and sighed, disappointed in him.

"We wouldn't want you to make a poor choice, would we? My boy is wonderfully creative.”

Corcoran broke.

[vagabondfromkanto]

LIFE-FIBER HUNTER

A returning MOSTLY post-canon Ryuko Matoi. Est. 2014. A traveling vagabond and a fighter on a mission. (Or a delinquent school girl, if that's more your style.)

Indie | Semi-selective | Almost anything goes 18+ on account of Mun pushing 30 Please read [About] and [Rules] OR hit "Read more" if you're on mobile.

[Permanent Starter Call]

[Mun's art for the blog (tag)]

You are highly encouraged to go on the desktop version and read all of this in detail, however here's a brief rundown for mobile users, for the sake of convenience:

Muse: Ryuko Matoi from Kill la Kill, post-canon AU (other verses available, see below). 25 y.o., traveling Life-Fiber hunter (which gives her reasons to meet all kinds of characters).

Mun: Is very much of age, been roleplaying in various ways for like 15 years and then some.

Rules (in short):

No sexual NSFW here.

Anything goes, from one-liners to novel, from crack to crossovers to angst and blood. (apart from point one in this list.)

Don't overthink it, just shoot me an ask or tag me. Or message me. I'm very chill.

If you want other verse than the default post-canon, pls specify when interacting. Otherwise she will react within those parameters. To canon muses as well, she'll assume you're 8 years older or (if gone during the plot) a trick of some kind.

Sometimes I accidentally write too much 'cause I got too into it. Don't feel like you have to match me. And do tell me if it gets overwhelming.

Godmodding: if you godmod or powerplay me, you give me the right to do it right back. My muse's abilities are powerful and specific enough for that within the basic canon. You've been warned.

Abilities:

[FULL PROFILE HERE (pls click)]

Fast regeneration, super-strength and durability, but not infinite, she can die. Life-Fiber absorption (makes her stronger). Can harden her hands into claws, if need be, but it takes some effort. Can potentially drink blood at a crisis dying point, but would rather not to.

Bonus canon abilities are reserved to be used in case of exceptional crisis (see: godmodding/powermodding or pre-planned over-the-top threads).

Important headcanons:

Aroace (there's plenty an explanation on desktop). (This doesn't mean no shipping. Just a certain kind of shipping.)

While traveling crashes at friends' places chaotically when available. Especially likes to enter Satsuki's home through a window, 'cause it's fun to friendly bicker.

Talks to Senketsu out of habit, after one too many Life-Fibers absorbed she can actually hear him talking back.

Got her scissor blades back, since what else do you fight LF with. At some point had to absorb them too, which now lets her harden her hands into claws... but not for long. It's tiring.

Is down for not traveling alone sometimes, as long as you can handle yourself. Or if you are Mako.

WILL freak out if meeting Ragyo, Nui or Junketsu!Ryuko. (Can use this for angst.)

Verses:

Verse 1: Life-Fiber hunter Years after the finale, there's a sudden resurgence of Life-Fibers all over the globe due to power-hungry people going into willing contact with them. As the only creature on Earth still capable of going toe-to-toe with them (and not quite managing the "normal" life anyway), Ryuko steps up. Now travels around searching for the things and fighting them. 25 y.o.

Verse 2: OG anime Ryuko Matoi is a transfer student at Honnouji Academy trying to find out who killed her dad. You know the drill. (Mun can attempt doubling for Senketsu if need be.) 17 y.o.

Verse 2.5: Pre-canon Ryuko Matoi is a punk-ass student who can't make a friend to save her life and fights everyone on account of chronically not fitting in. Walking trouble. 14-16 y.o.

Verse 3: Cyberpunk AU (2077/Edgerunners inspired) Basically the canonical events, but slightly aged up and converted for the setting. A high-class corpo school, a loner nomad with a dead father, a corpo-bitch who experimented on hooking her own children up to Blackwall. Life-Fibers are rogue AIs, goku uniforms are implants, Senketsu is a friendly AI and Ryuko doesn't know that she's a digital construct of a dead teenaged stuffed in a highly chipped body. She's also trying not to think too hard about living at the house of an unethical ripperdoc. 18 y.o.

Down to discuss other AUs or crossover multiverse-style.

[degrees-of-fuck]

Lettie Infodump so I can talk about her here and it'll make sense

I realised I haven't properly explained what I ended up deciding my OC Lettie's uh... Deal is. I have an insane number of thoughts about her too. She's kinda my main general OC that I ported over to DoL cuz she's my main gal that I constantly rotate in my head, so this makes sense. But. Yeah. Anyway, attempting to explain miss lettice rosangel for people that follow my for my OCs for whatever goddamn reason. Infodump to provide Context about her for future posts - and a couple doodles below!

cw for more Blood Stuff than the usual DoL fare. Sucks 2 be a sacrificial lamb. and also for long.

OK so Path/ologic has always been one of the Lettie Games of All Time to me, but the way I adapted her into DoL was pretty heavily inspired by The Changeling's route (Though I also OFTEN make jokes about Cult of/the Lamb in relation to her.) Initially, because of her Dainty Woodland Weirdo vibes and stuff about her personality, I was gonna toss her at Eden and have her be a miracle-worker on the side when she's in town, but then she uh. Then she stopped being a PC and now she's just here. Among my other OCs. Doing whatever it is she does. God I really wanna do a comic based on the Pathologic intro with my PCs lol

anyway. What I actually ended up doing was making her Full Time miracle worker that was raised at the temple, because I found the image of her after being Found, spawned by the elements, getting thrown at it when her behaviour of inflicting indiscriminate psionic torture instead of crying and generally just being an absolutely horrifying creature kind of finally Broke Bailey and his goons a bit, so. Here, temple. Take this fucking thing. Kill it or exorcise maybe, I don't care just keep it away from me. And then she promptly started acting sweet as anything, having gotten old enough to start communicating a bit. (On her gaslight grindset even as an infant...)

SO. Her being thrown at the temple, plus her mysterious powers plus the circumstances of her 'birth' cleeaarly mean this is some kind of divine being, but the question of course is, In Which Direction? Upon realising that this even WAS a question, the obvious thing for her to do is to start acting the role of The Heavensent AS HARD AS POSSIBLE - Perfect and Pure and Incorruptible. Because being revealed to be even slightly bad might get her diagnosed with Lying Hellspawn. So. Yeah. Kind of a situation where you are sat up nicely on a pedestal, but don't have the Right to display any kind of moral greyness. Which is hard at times, because Lettie's kind of an asshole and only More inclined to be awful when she's being constantly treated in such a bizarre manner. Honestly even with her best efforts, I think there's murmurings of people thinking she isn't what she seems. The odd nun or monk cornering her out of sight about it and so on forth.

But yeah. Essentially, she exists more as a symbol than as a person with real thoughts or feelings. Performs illusion-based miracles, pretends to have visions and then makes them come true to fuck with people, lots of Charitable Good Deeds for Brownie Points... The OTHER thing her daily life seems to entail (Other than occasionally being molested by members of the church and overhearing people wanting to kidnap her) is being a BLOOD SACRIFICE. Her body sure is covered in weird scars from being bled on altars for religious ceremonies, or to just collect some lambs' blood for later use. And also sometimes being touched a lil inappropriately during That.

So yeah. Much thoughts on Perfection and Purity basically equating to Emptiness, Fractured Identity Stuff, Religious Trauma, the general horror-show that is the way the people that basically raised her treat her, the effects of the public eye and having to live a life where you're straight up Not Allowed to change or grow at all, because you're already supposedly Perfect. Just a hollow doll (Well not entirely hollow. She has Blood.) to project onto and adore, but also viciously blame whenever literally anything goes wrong. (I mean, is this a lamb or a goat? It's anyone's guess.)

Much Power but Zero Rights.

I have a lot of Other thoughts thematically and such but I find them hard to put into words that make sense so this is all you're getting for now.

Some Extra Facts About Her???

-Chronic Illness Moments! Being constantly a bit drained of blood, side-effects of psychic burnout plus just. Generally being sickly. This paired with the frequency with which she slips and slides around on temple floors on her sheepy hooves, I wanna start keeping count of how many times she almost gives Jordan a heart attack : )

-With her and Sydney both having kind of a IT'S COMPLICATED parental relationship with Jordan and both of them being how they are, I do NOT think Lettie likes Syd very much. Keeps telling on her when they see her break character a bit. And also is constantly just, there, being a human that she can be compared to. And if she's seen to be less virtuous than some fucking initiate, then it's OVER for her which is kinda terrifying. They rank above most of the nuns and monks at the temple on account of not personally mistreating her, but they sure do make her life harder and she delights in fucking with them.

-At some point, I made Original, Non DoL Lettie transfem because of thematic Gender stuff. Anyway I think that she came out via mix of "Your human genders don't make sense to be, but I like dresses :)" and gaslighting the temple into thinking she'd ALWAYS been this way. So she uh. Didn't come out. She gave herself bottom surgery via a terrifying blood ritual of her Own. Good for her.

-I think there is So much to explore with the Ivory Wraith. Idk the details yet, but... Yeah.

-Cuts her hair into a bob and shears her leg-wool in the summer. Also has to do smaller shearings/cuttings throughout the year probably. I think she spins it into yarn, bleaches and dyes it and knits with it. : ) Very into fiber arts in general. Sewing and embroidery and quilting are Fun and also no one can tell her idle hands are the devil's workshop if she's constantly doing something with her hands.

-I've still yet to settle on how to draw her fucking horns.

EDIT:

-Shortly after making this post, I decided she can be the PC Kylar fixates on, so I've been thinking of that. My other OC Edin already is kind of a fucking stalker, but. Yeah, it makes perfect sense for her to have multiple stalkers I think. Part of her whole deal is that she CONSTANTLY has EYES on her. Never free. Two stalkers, each with completely conflicting expectations of her is supremely on brand.

-Feeling of Kylar has figured out that she isn't what she presents herself as - but doesn't know who she actually is, instead deciding to view her as what they Want her to be, leading into the hgufkdsdjd, <3 <3 <3 You're So Naughty type shit. ... Don't tell Kylar she doesn't have a womb.

-Kylar maybe has Hopes relating to her ~special powers~ and what they could do for their parents??

[dc-ocs-200x]

Funny one shot inspired by this post from @jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear (sorry for the tag but like if you're looking for good Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane content definitely check them out!)

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It was clear to anyone that, even at the young age of 7, Dedric Crane was just as fascinated by fear--following painfully close in his father's footsteps-- as Jonathan. The thought naturally thrilled Jonathan, determined to teach anything he could to his son about his favorite topic. Luckily enough, Dedric absorbed all of it in return, listening to his father's lectures as he looked up as though Jonathan had hung the stars and the moon.

Of course, still being a child, Jonathan made sure to try and monitor what he exposed Dedric too, he didn't need to traumatize the boy. Still, when on a grocery run and seeing the Halloween mask section, an amusing idea came to him. Dedric never expressed fear to the classic horror movies, rather pleading for them to watch some together, so surely a plastic mask would be harmless. A little surprise spook then rendered to a simple child's toy. Satisfied with the idea, he tossed a ghost face mask into the cart knowing it was one of Dedric's favorites.

He'd waited a bit to enact the idea. A good week of it hiding in his room. If Jonathan was honest, he'd forgotten about it, until stumbling upon it when looking for his notebook for work later when Dedric was fast asleep. With a chuckle, he enacted on his plan. With the mask pulled over his head, little pressure bulb in his hand and hidden behind his favorite arm chair. He knew Dedric would be entering soon enough, being a little creature of routine, or at least as much routine as he could have with a rogue father.

Sure enough, it wasn't too long until Dedric came through looking for his afternoon snack, "Daddy?" he chirped peeking into the kitchen. It didn't unease Dedric too much to not find him there knowing there were times Jonathan got a little too absorbed into his work. As he went to check Jonathan's room however, he passed the chair which Jonathan took as his time to strike, jumping up from behind it with a yell, ensuring to squeeze the pump to make the faux blood run down the white portion of the mask.

Dedric was startled enough to fall back, all it took was one look at the mask for the boy to burst into tears. This surprised Jonathan who quickly pulled the mask off and disregarded it on the floor in favor of picking his little boy up, rubbing his back, a bit panicked by the sobs, "Oh darling boy, it's ok," he murmured, "it's alright. Its just daddy with a mask..."

Dedric hiccupped softly, immediately clinging to Jonathan's shirt as soon as he heard his father's voice, only able to manage out, "Sc-scary mask! W-with blood, daddy!"

Jonathan winced slightly at this, he hadn't anticipated the blood being an issue, then again there was a stark difference in seeing it from the safety of a television screen and seeing it right before your face. He sighed heading to the kitchen resolving to settling his son first and getting him his snack then handling the mask, for now though, distance from it seemed to be a must for Dedric's sake.

"I know. I know it, but there's no need to be scared, little boy. I wouldn't let anything hurt you. Certainly not some mask," he reassured, getting a bowl of various fruits like blackberries and peeled orange slices from the fridge, having prepared the snack beforehand.

"I-I don't like it!" Dedric sniffled, "Don't ever want to see it again," he mumbled miserably, still, the boy took the bowl, picking a strawberry out first.

Jonathan sighed simultaneously relieved at his never-ending ability to comfort his son in a matter of minutes, and stressed at how the little prank went so wrong.

"You won't have to," he promised, "the mask is going away for a long time.." '

'In a closet,' his mind finished bitterly.

[bored-storyteller]

Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area… is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

[lawslessons]

Not So Tough Now, Huh?

Not So Tough Now, Huh? (Zoro x Luffy)

Hello! This is inspired by the amazing @xruffyx drawing of Zoro and Luffy where Zoro is holding Luffy up by his shirt. I saw that drawing and thought of a cute and somewhat spicy little one shot to honor the amazing art piece! Please check them out and send them all my love xx

https://xruffyx.tumblr.com/post/636611591540998144/yeah-more-zolu-redraws-because-i-do-not-know-how

Warnings: Teasing, Suggestive Behavior

Synopsis: Challenge accepted. Luffy, Chopper and Usopp decide to see who can manage to wake up the swordsman first. But little do they know that Zoro has a little trick up his sleeve for his captain.  

No one knew what exactly spurred Luffy’s mood, and they were all too amused to even ask why this was happening. But it seemed to be a rather average, uneventful day on the Thousand Sunny when Luffy came to the middle of the lawn deck and started to smile. 

“I want to play a game!” Luffy laughed. Chopper and Usopp both looked at each other in excitement, they both smiled and looked at their captain with stars in their eyes. 

“A game? What game?” Chopper asked as he clapped his hooves together and moved to be standing on top of a box to be more at Luffy’s height. Luffy sported his signature toothy smile and rested his hands against the box. 

“Zoro is sleeping, right?” Luffy asked. Usopp rose a brow and looked around the deck. Nami and Robin were both talking to one another, steam was coming from the kitchen so he knew Sanji was in there. A slight hum could he heard too, so he knew Franky was in his workshop while Brook worked on orchestrating a new piece. 

“I think? He’s supposed to be watching out of the crow’s nest to see if any ships are getting close,” Usopp explained, but Zoro sleeping came as a surprise to no one. “But Luffy, what does that have to do with your game?” Usopp asked his grinning captain. 

“Perfect! It’s everything. I wanna see who can wake Zoro up first,” Luffy explained with a cheeky smirk. Usopp and Chopper both felt the blood drain from their cheeks at that suggestion. 

“Luffy, isn’t that dangerous? Zoro may be upset by that,” Chopper pointed out, but he was honestly just saying that out of fear for himself. Luffy simply laughed away the concern and shook his head. 

“It’ll be fine! Come on, it’ll be fun!” Luffy said before he grabbed both of his friends by the hand and moved to run up to the crow’s nest. When they were there, Luffy pointed to the door and nodded. “He’s asleep.” He stated. 

“Shouldn’t you be more upset by that?” Usopp scoffed to which Luffy shook his head. 

“No one is here! It’s ok,” He assured his friends before he pointed to Chopper. “You’re first.” Luffy said to the small creature. Chopper gasped and moved to hide behind Usopp’s leg. 

“Me? Why me?!” Chopper asked as he glared up at the captain. Luffy shrugged and started to scratch at his chest. “Because you always have the best ideas.” That seemed to be all Chopper needed to snap out of his funk. He smiled and started to dance around and giggle. 

“It’s not like you saying that makes me happy or anything, idiot!” Chopper giggled to which Usopp sighed. 

“You’re too easy...”

After a couple minutes of thinking, Chopper opened the door rather loudly with an armful of medical paraphernalia in his arms. “Oi, Zoro! I need your help! Someone’s dying!” Chopper exclaimed. The swordsman didn’t seem to notice Chopper being in the room, he continued to snore and relax under the afternoon sun. “You’re dying...?” Chopper tried next with no avail. He stood there for a minute before he pulled away, sighing. “He won’t wake up!” Chopper complained as he put his supplies back in his backpack and looked over at Usopp and Luffy. 

“Usopp, you’re next!” Luffy said as he tried to shove Usopp into the room. Nearly on the verge of tears, Usopp grabbed at the doorframe and looked back at Luffy. 

“I can’t Luffy, I have an incurable disease known as I-am-scared-Zoro-will-kill-me-if-I-wake-him-up disease!” Usopp proclaimed as he started to use his feet against the door frame to stop Luffy from pushing him in. Luffy pouted and pulled back after that. 

“I thought you were the bravest one here,” Luffy mumbled, and within seconds, Usopp was away from the doorframe and standing tall and proud in front of them. Usopp smirked and ran his thumb and pointed finger along his jaw until it met at his chin. 

“You’re right about that, Luffy. I am the bravest man in the world, the conquer of all seas, Captain Usopp!” Usopp declared as he stuck his hand up in the air and quickly brought it down in a fist. Chopper gasped in excitement and clapped his little hands together. 

“Amazing!” Chopper praised to which Usopp smirked. 

“I shall be the one who wakes him up! No one else can beat me!” Usopp said as he went into the room with a brave look on his face. But the moment he laid eyes on Zoro, his entire bravado fell. “Oh.” he said in realization. And before he could back out, the door behind him was shut and he heard giggling. Panicking, Usopp began to bang his fists against the door. “Oi, Luffy! Chopper! Open the door!” He loudly whispered as his banging became as panicked as his voice. “Please! He’s going to kill me!” Usopp pleaded. After a minute of deliberation between Chopper and Luffy, and more begging from Usopp, the door was finally opened and Usopp fell down with an unsatisfactory thud. “I am never doing that again!” Usopp stated as he pushed his laughing captain away from him. 

“It’s your turn now Luffy!” Chopper said with a big smile on his face. Luffy didn’t look phased, he smiled and looked at the now closed door. 

“I can do it,” Luffy said before he walked inside of the room. Within an instant, the door was closed on him and he heard Usopp and Chopper snickering behind the door. Luffy looked around and saw Zoro resting his back against the wall and sleeping. His soft snores filled the room and Luffy slowly approached the beast in front of him. But just as he was about to grab Zoro’s shoulder, a hand met with Luffy’s wrist and tightened around the small joint.

Zoro groggily opened an eye and looked up at his captain while he yawned and tried to shake the sleep out of himself. 

“Zoro?” Luffy asked in surprise as the swordsman stood up and towered over the petite male in front of him. 

“I heard you were trying to wake me up,” Zoro said with his deep, raspy, tired voice. Luffy felt a strange shock go through his body just by hearing Zoro talk, it made his heart begin to race. Unbeknownst to Luffy, Zoro was able to feel it. Because of the hand on Luffy’s wrist, Zoro was able to feel that slight rise in his captain’s heartbeat. He had to admit that it made him feel a little proud, he didn’t even know he could have an effect like this over his precious captain. He was going to have some fun with this.   

“Why did you want to wake me up, captain?” Zoro asked as he leaned in closer to his captain and smirked down at him. Luffy looked at Zoro with wide, searching eyes and felt his pulse increase just a little more at the way Zoro was addressing him. Luffy was stunned silent, his lips slightly parted when he looked up at the swordsman. 

Zoro chuckled and gently popped his thumb into his captain’s mouth and felt his tongue and warm mouth before he pulled away. He was still tired and somewhat annoyed for being woken up, but seeing Luffy like this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Luffy’s cheeks turned red as he tried to pull away. But he wasn’t really trying, something deep inside of him kept him close to Zoro and kept him interested. 

“Why did you want to wake me up?” Zoro asked, this time he didn’t bother to hide that annoyance he had towards Luffy, after all he always prided himself in how long his naps were, being interrupted wasn’t something he liked no matter the circumstances. “Ever since Chopper came in here, I’ve been awake, I’ve just been waiting for you,” Zoro felt Luffy’s heart drum rhythmically under his thumb and he smirked and gently traced the vein that was there. Luffy’s breath became shallow and the captain looked confused with himself and why he was reacting like this towards Zoro. Maybe Zoro wasn’t really that annoyed anymore.  

“T-The reason was -- “ Luffy began before he was interrupted by Zoro grabbing Luffy by his shirt and lifting him up so they were eye level.  Zoro stared at Luffy and tightened his grip, the bags under his eyes were evident. 

“You got something to say, Captain Bastard?” Zoro asked as he pulled Luffy closer to him just to make the poor captain that much more embarrassed. Luffy looked away with red painting his cheeks and he started to squirm to leave Zoro’s hold. Zoro smirked and moved to use his index finger to feel down Luffy’s jaw and down his neck. Zoro drank in Luffy’s soft sounds and devoured the small groan that came when he applied pressure on the sensitive spot on his neck. 

“N-no, sorry...” Luffy said before Zoro finally put Luffy down and eyed him. Luffy didn’t understand what Zoro was doing, but he liked it. The tingles that shot down his spine nearly made his heart jump out of his chest. 

“Better tell them that you won, captain.” Zoro breathed into Luffy’s ear. Luffy softly gasped and reached forward to grab at Max’s shirt in his surprise. This was the exact reaction Zoro was wanting. He smirked at Luffy and gently nudged him away from him. “Or maybe I’m the one that won, you’re not so tough now, huh?” Zoro teased as the flustered captain quickly moved to make his way out of the crow’s nest. With Zoro’s laugh ringing in his ears, Luffy left the crow’s nest and used his hat to partially cover the deep color on his cheeks. 

“Luffy? Are you ok? You’re all red!” Chopper gasped as he reached for his beg and began to rummage through it for some medical supplies. Usopp looked at the captain and then at the swordsman who went back to sleeping. 

“So why were you in there so long?” Usopp asked.

Luffy pulled his hat away and plastered on one of his signature smiles. “I won!” he said as he glanced over at the closed door and felt his pulse race again. Luffy wasn’t even sure if he won, after all, his feelings were all jumbled together and he didn’t know how to sort them out anymore because of Zoro. 

The raspy voice, the hand on his wrist, the thumb in his mouth, him grabbing his shirt, the fingers on his skin. Him whispering in his ear... Luffy felt his chest tighten and a small sigh escaped his lips. How could he win if he was still so confused? Maybe that was what Zoro was plotting. 

“I didn’t win.” Luffy suddenly said. 

“We know,” Usopp teased as he pointed to the door. Luffy tensed, did they find out what happened between him and Zoro? “Zoro is still asleep, so I think that he won.” Usopp pointed out. Luffy had to admit that Usopp was right, but his reasoning was completely different for that. 

“Yeah, Zoro won.” Luffy agreed with a flustered smile. Unbeknownst to him, the swordsman sported a cocky grin at hearing Luffy’s words through the door. Oh yeah, he was winning. 

[mikiib]

The Magnus Archives: ALIEN AU (Part 1)

     So in short I had come up with an AU where the cast of TMA characters are set in the universe of ALIEN. They’re both my FAVORITE pieces of horror media I’ve consumed and so my brain figured- WHY NOT? So I have 13 pages and scenes in my brain that would take place in this AU. If this or the following posts that I’ll make inspire anyone I would LOVE to see what you come up with! In short this story has a mostly good ending.    

 Here’s a list of the things that ARE and AREN’T in this universe. 

- 14 Fears aren’t in this world. It’s fully immersed in the universe of the movie ALIEN/ALIENS. - The xenomorphs however have more powers- they can shape shift into anyone they ‘kill’. So if the alien hatches from the host but somehow the host survives then that creature can pretend to be that person. If they kill someone they can pretend to be them.  They still however take the main biological forms of the hosts they came from in regular form. - Queens are born when there is no other queen in near vicinity detected by the unhatched egg.  - The hatching of an egg takes a lot longer after implantation rather than a few hours like the original movie.  - The aliens acidic blood is still STRONG but not nearly as much. I nerfed that to a slower burn- if left on the surface for more than a few minutes it can still be JUST AS BAD as the movies version. - Cyborgs are a thing in this world- who is and isn’t a cyborg is up in the air- however you’ll find out if you follow the posts. - The aliens are weak to extreme heat and extreme cold. The younger they are the more vulnerable to both. Fire extinguishers and flamethrowers will be a big weapon in both firepower and as a melee weapons. - The technology is slightly more up to date compared to ALIEN’s 80′s tech, as there are in short video calls that can be held. -Mother (MU-TH-UR 4900) is the ships computer mainframe, and can connect directly to Elias with his acceptance of the transmission. Mother also monitors the crew and their vitals when they are under cyosleep. - They can quit. No bindings to ‘The Eye’ here. 

ARTIFACT RETRIEVAL VEHICLE: THE COEUS CREW: SEVEN

Captain and Scrivener (Archivist): Jonathan Sims (Age: 31)

  Executive Officer: Sasha James (Age: 35)

  Warrant Officer: Georgie Barker  (Age: 29)

  Navigator: Melanie King (Age: 27)

  Engineers: Tim Stocker (Age 33) & Martin Blackwood (Age: 27)

  Science Officer: Nikola Orsinov (Age: 30)

CARGO: OTHER WORLDLY ARTIFACTS UNDER STUDY COURSE: SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY MOON BASE: THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES 

-Everyone shares the role of being a Scribal (Archival) Assistants to Jon- no exceptions.  -The Magnus Archives is a space station on the Moon orbiting Earth.  -The cargo they carry is found from the ships that collect samples from uninhabited planets as well as statements from those who report to them their findings to investigate.  -The Admiral is the ships designated therapy cat to help the crew cope with isolation brought on by Georgie. -Elias Bouchard is the head of The Magnus Archives.

STORYLINE: 

     The story starts after they’ve collected the last of the artifacts required on the list to retrieve. They’ve been in cryosleep for over 6 months and only need 3 more months of it till they’d arrive to their destination. Everyone wakes up on their own time, Georgie first, along with Melanie and Martin. Followed by Tim, Sasha, Jon, and Nikola, they gather at the dining table of the living quarters. Martin makes everyone their preferred meals, seemingly the most nervous. This has been Martins first time aboard THE COEUS, and his banter with Sasha and Tim prove while not the best at his job there, he makes a mean meal out of the ‘rubbish space food’ provided. Melanie comes back after taking a look at their current location frowning, letting the others know they aren’t even close to Earth yet- not even in their solar system anymore. In surprise they turn to Jon, who himself has only been Captain on ship for only just before this crew was assigned to him. He gets up to check out whats going on, many of the others follow him, much to his disgruntlement as they basically fill the small room. Mother has intercepted a transmission of unknown origins and under contract of their jobs they must check it out. Curious to know more about their new course Jon calls Elias, who informs them it will be a 2 week set back on their schedules course. Jons not exactly excited about this but Tim’s quite happy to be informed it does give them quite a large bonus since it does seem confirmed of unknown (non-human) origins. 

     Once they arrive to their destination, Melanie sets the ship into motion for landing. She reads off all planet signs to the crew on. It’s a nearly isolated dwarf planet of 600 kilometers in diameter (372.823 miles). The surface on landing will be 23 degrees celsius- much warmer than expected but it does seem to be orbiting a sun fairly closely. They prepare for landing and Martin and Tim are set to get the ship in position. Martin and Tim talk together as they prep and make sure the landing legs will be fine against the surface of the planet. While they do so Sasha pops in announcing she gets to go with Jon and Melanie to investigate the source of the spooky transmission on foot. Meaning also she gets a bigger cut in the bonus than them. Tim and Sasha razz at each other but stop when sparks are spat in Martins face for wiring something wrong. He curses and Sasha comes over to help see what's wrong, pulling on gloves. She laughs a bit and gently teases him to choose a different degree to lie about next time he wants a new job as she fixes the wiring for him. Martin shushes her, claiming he didn’t expect them not to do background checks, nor did he expect to be given a position on one of the biggest damned cargo retrieval ships known. While he worked originally as a simple warehouse organizer at The Magnus Archives sister base on earth he had needed cash to help support himself after his Mother had moved out. Tim wraps an arm around Martin, claiming he’ll shield Martin from Jons prying eyes if anything goes wrong on this detour. They laugh a bit before the radio goes off from Jons office room. He’s complaining about the lights not turning on in there and would be thrilled if someone did their job correctly when fixing it before he gets back on the ship. Tim radios him that they’re on it before they tease Martin more on his obvious crush on Jon before Sasha is then called up to suit up. 

     Georgie is helping the 3 suit up properly, making sure their heart monitors are secure and attached to their neck to get an accurate pulse. Jon seems to be struggling most with the suit up, this unlike the other two, being his first time in a suit outside of the initial training. Sasha after having her camera feed double checked helps Jon out. And while Jon doesn’t say anything about it, it’s obvious Sasha should’ve gotten the job as Captain. Melanie the entire time rattling on about how excited she is to document her findings of a foreign transmission. 

     They land with ease, nothing going wrong as the planet, while rocky with a constant rain, is also somewhat flat. They make their way to the source of the transmission. Tim and the others are now watching from the ship- cameras live feed and audio coming to them as Georgie talks with Melanie about all the kind of things they could find on the ship to study. Nikola reminds everyone that without the items and everyone following the procedures for quarantine, no one is touching the items that may be brought back. The conversation dies out into aww when they see the space ship the signal is coming from appear on camera. Melanie is excited as Sasha and Jon start to look for a way in. Jon reminds them to stay close to him at all times as they enter the ship- its obvious he’d rather none of them go in here due to how degraded the place looks. Everything seems to have been heavily melted in random patches, but the ship itself seems to be made of a biological element of some sort- comparing it to a ribcage almost as they walk through it.

     As they traverse the ship they stumble across multiple dead alien bodies. They aren’t fresh but they also don’t look years old. Melanie goes to take a closer look at them but Jon quickly pulls her back from them, yelling about how obviously unsafe it is as well as the fact that she just broke formation rushing off into a different room. They both get into an argument about what should be done with the bodies, and how far their investigations should go. At this point the feed is hardly coming through via camera, but the audio makes it back to the the ship roughly. Sasha goes on without them as she’s getting closer to decode the transmission. it’s a warning of sorts is what she can gather. Looking at the bodies it may have been an illness of some type, each of them dead from some type of acid but she finds one with an open chest- like an explosion. she gets closer to one, that seems to shift out of the corner of her eye. She tries to let the others know but she realizes that they can’t hear her over their arguing, and she’s almost certain she’s lost on the foreign ship. So instead she brings herself closer to the alien body before something crashes behind her and she stumbles back, tripping over something, and screams as she bashes her head on the back of her helmet. She gets up and looks around and sees the shadow of the creature run off and she chases after it.

     That got the attention of the others as not only with the scream but Tim tells them her heart rate is spiking drastically. Jon and Melanie cry out for Sasha and she stops after meeting a dead end. She sighs and tells them she’s fine, she just fell and admittedly was just chasing after shadows. She turns around however and suddenly her heart monitor on the ship starts to read dead.  PART 2 

[mariyekos]

Ishgardian Fangs HC

Inspired by some posts about Ishgardians having fangs (thank you @drachenblood and some twitter folks for the inspiration)... I think it’d be fun to think about how characters react to that. This will have late HW spoilers (and Stormblood for one character I guess, but you meet him in ARR), so be warned! Also this is far longer than I meant it to be, whoops. I’ll cover why they have fangs, how current elezen are influenced by it, how Nidhogg’s eye influences things, and how some of the people we know are impacted by this (Luquelot, Carvallain, Aymeric, Estinien). 

First, there’s why they’d have fangs: Ratatoskr’s Eyes. The heretics we meet in game transform into Aevises/dragon-like creatures. Very dragon-like creatures, to the point that to the uninformed, they wouldn’t appear Spoken/”human” at all. I think some sources say the blood they consume is actually more of a concoction that includes blood rather than pure blood, so this could be part of it. Point is, some dragon blood turns Ishgardian elezen into Aevises because of their relation to the knights who consumed Ratatoskr’s eyes. Which are the source of a dragon’s power. So, HC is that by consuming the eyes without the special concoction, the knights would’ve gained slightly draconic traits. Like extended canines (fangs), longer nails (claws), and some other things that dropped out of the bloodline much more quickly. Fangs stick around forever. Claws die out after a few centuries, though Ishgardians tend to have fewer broken nails than other elezen.

How they would explain this to the people I’m much more “meh” on. They could claim it was part of Halone’s blessing. Try to separate it from the dragons, or try to hide it away. But whatever the case, the original knights who consumed the blood would have definitely looked different, and this change would have been hereditary. For the first few generations, the children of the non-High House surviving knights were told to hide their draconic/Dravanian characteristics as to not draw attention to themselves. But as the children of the High Houses began to have kids of their own (whether bastards or children born in wedlock that simply didn’t inherit the title of Count and went on to be the head of their own houses), more people with fangs and claws started showing up in Ishgard, and they abandoned their attempts to hide. Especially after four of five generations when the children didn’t care so much about the warnings of their founders.

Ishgard has a huge class divide. Nobles stick with nobles, commoners are stuck with commoners. So, I’d imagine the nobles (who are very easy to identify by their fangs, which gives bastards more threat/power because if you’re a commoner with fangs you have to be some important noble’s kid) would generally marry each other. Not talking cousin with cousin, but you know. People with long fangs having kids with people with long fangs. Passing on a high percentage of Ratatoskr-fed blood to their children. So over time the non-nobles, bastards, lesser houses, and people like that would see their offspring have shorter and shorter fangs, even if the fangs never completely blunt back to traditional Wildwood elezen levels, while nobles would keep long fangs.

Implications for Seventh Era/current elezen: Easy class identification, easy Ishgardian identification. Ishgardian elezen in canon are basically just Wildwood elezen who we say are from Ishgard. Identified either by an accent if you HC that (which I do, but irrelevant here), customs/habits/actions, or them plain saying it. In fang-verse, you’d know someone has Ishgardian blood if they have fangs. Wildwood means Gridanian (as does Duskwight, but they’re clearly separate in their own way). Ishgardian elezen are just called Ishgardian elezen. Because Ishgard is traditionally isolationist, even if some of the city elezen went out into Coerthas and spread Ratatoskr-fed blood to the elezen there, they generally stayed out of Gridania/other city states, leading to 99% of elezen with fangs having at least several generations of Ishgardian/Coerthan heritage. 

Going back to what I said above, fang length is an easy way to judge class. Gridanian elezen do not have fangs. Coerthan elezen have minor fangs, very pointed and slightly elongated (all Ishgardian elezen children have to learn not to cut their own lips/tongues accidentally), but nothing super noticeable. Ishgardian elezen commoners’s teeth are just slightly longer/larger, to the point it makes some do double takes. Nobles are definitely longer and larger than the teeth nearby, being the true double-take fangs that could do serious damage if they bit someone. With the High Houses having the most prominent/noticeable fangs of all. The type that definitely go over the other row of teeth.

How this applies to some of the elezen we (the player) know:

First, some minor elezen. Luquelot is the guy in Gridania who works at the chocobo stables. He’s Ishgardian in canon, and so of course here as well. Since chocobos are from the Dravanian Forelands and are a sort of pride of Ishgard, I’d say they’d tend to be more comfortable with Ishgardians because that’s who they’re used to. The fanged elezen. So while the Gridanians tend to be somewhat wary around Luquelot because he’s kind of weird as most Ishgardians are, and he has fangs, the chocobos love him. And they especially love when he smiles. There’s something about the fangs that comforts them. So you’ll notice that Luquelot tends to have his mouth open and his fangs visible when working with the chocobos (particularly jumpy, scared, or injured ones) as that has some sort of calming effect. The Gridanian elezen don’t really get it, since they’d assume fangs mean danger and danger should be scary, but whatever. The chocobos like his fangs. He can smile like he wants. (Which he doesn’t like doing when around other people, because he’s somewhat self conscious of the fangs, but he’ll do whatever it takes to help the chocobos).

Carvallain is, as we know, Count Charlemend de Durendaire’s missing son. So a member of a High House. Thus, his fangs would be very prominent. But his whole thing is that he doesn’t want to go back to Ishgard, and he doesn’t want people to recognize him. Thus while there are two ways I could go with him, I’ll go with this: while later in life he might think back to how his fangs could have been useful/interesting intimidation tools, as of the Seventh Era he no longer has them. Or at least, no one can tell what they once were. Because soon after his ship was attacked and he changed his name, he decided to file them down to look as normal as possible, so that no one could look at him and go “oh Gods, look at those fangs, he has to have Ishgardian noble blood.” Because fangs are distinctly Ishgardian, and fangs that large mean noble. And as a kid (or 14 year old) who’d finally been afforded a chance at freedom, he’d wanted to sever all ties best he could. If he regrets it later in life, well he’s not going to grow a new pair so it’s too late. They’re filed down to normality as best as he could manage it. So what I’ll go with is that current Carvallain just has slightly odd, but not necessarily Ishgarian looking canines. Maybe a little large/sharp, but not so much so that anyone who sees him open his mouth goes “Ishgardian!!!”. (You could also say that’s part of why Charlemald dismisses the rumor that someone like his son was seen roaming around Limsa - yes they look like his son, but his son had beautiful, powerful fangs. This stranger does not.)

Now some of the more prominent elezen (not that Carvallain is unimportant, especially after Stormblood and the Firmament quetst, but eh.)

Aymeric has prominent fangs. Not as much as the high houses. But his father was from a lesser house pledged to House Durendaire, so they have noble blood, and fangs associated with it. When he was born this automatically marked him as being an important bastard. When he was adopted into House Borel, it was both good and bad. For one, he wouldn’t stand out as much among nobles because he had fangs. Conversely, it meant that anyone who knew he was adopted would know he was certainly someone’s bastard, and not just an orphan the Borels picked up, because a legitimate son of a noble would have been picked up by family, and not a childless Viscount/Viscountess. 

Side note now that I’m thinking about it. Ishgardians like showing off their fangs in arguments. Intimidation toward non-Ishgardians. But a sign of class/superiority to other Ishgardians - the bigger your fangs, the more connection you hold to the High Houses, and the more of Halone’s blessing you hold.

Aymeric doesn’t really do that. He doesn’t keep his mouth closed at all times to try to hide his fangs, but he’s not one for flashing them off either. They’re sort of like a reminder that he was not wanted by his father. But he has a habit of starind at them in the mirror, running his tongue over them, wondering when he’ll be able to confront the man who gave them to him.

Estinien has the Coerthan “extended canine” fangs. They’re pointier than Gridanians, they’re a little longer, but if he opened his mouth in a group of Gridanian elezen you wouldn’t immediately be drawn to his mouth unless you specifically looked straight at it, and even then you’d have to compare to the other elezen there to make sure his were in fact longer. (With noble Ishgardians it is very obvious they are longer/abnormal. Coerthan elezen typically give a “are they longer?” question until a comparison is made, in which case they obviously are). Estinien’s are a little thicker than most other Coerthan elezen, but he would stand firmly among or even slightly below the ranks of city-Ishgardian commoners.

He realizes this. He was teased for it while among the Temple Knights. His fangs marked him as less than a commoner, adoption by the previous Azure Dragoon (who was a hyur and thus entirely fangless) irrelevant. Some of the dragoons we meet don’t wear a helmet. Or uh. Heustienne doesn’t. Maenne and Alaimbert do but whatever. Estinien gets a little spiteful about his fangs, and so when he becomes a dragoon wears the helmet with visor down at all times to specifically draw attention to his lack of prominent fangs. You can see three things about him when he’s in his armor. 1) He has fairly light (though not the lightest) skin. 2) He’s about average height. 3) He does not have big fangs. And while the first two don’t matter to most people, that last last one certainly does. That tells you everything you ned to know about him. He is not a noble, and he worked his butt off to get to where he was. It was his own effort, not anyone else’s. 

Since we’ve finally reached Estinien, it’s time to talk about the influence of Nidhogg’s Eye.

I said above that Alberic doesn’t have fangs because he’s a hyur. Except, he kind of does. Not fang-fangs. But by the time he relinquished the Eye, his canines had extended ever so slightly. You might say, but it shouldn’t work like that! He already had teeth, how/why would they get bigger if they’re the ones he already had. And my answer is all of this is because of magic and I want that to be the case so there! They’re not super noticeable at all (as in, no one who looks at him would be able to tell the Eye lengthened them, and new people might think he just has slightly pointier than average teeth for a hyur), but Alberic notices. His canines were completely normal length and near flat-blunt before the eye. But after they got just the slightest bit longer, and just a little pointier. Mostly it made it slightly uncomfortable to close his mouth until he got used to it.

So take Estinien, a Coerthan elezen who has a small but still extant bit of Ratatoskr-fed blood in him, and add in the time spent running around Coerthas with the Eye pre-HW... 

Estinien doesn’t particularly like how his teeth lengthen the longer he has the Eye. He doesn’t care for much of Ishgard’s upper class, and fangs are the most visual sign of that. He’s becoming like them. But he doesn’t concern himself with it too much, mostly just getting annoyed when he accidentally nicks his lip/tongue while still getting used to the increased point of his canines. Other people do notice, and get a little wary. There are the uncomfortable nobles who don’t like how a commoner (or Coerthan) is noticeably looking more noble (again emphasized by his choice to wear the Dragoon helmet as he does, so the only thing you notice about his appearance is his mouth and thus canine length). Then there are those who don’t like how rapidly his teeth are changing, because people are supposed to be born with fangs. Why are his teeth becoming fangs? It’s kind of creepy. 

Then the Nidhogg incident in the Singularity Reactor (post-Thordan fight) happens. And when Estinien is freed from the Eyes... well I have a lot of HCs about what happens to his body anyway. But fang wise, where he’d previously gone from extended-canines to definitely-but-not-amazingly-large-fangs, he’s left with oh-halone-those-are-terrifying-fangs. Like, larger than any living Ishgardian has fangs. Were they alive, they’d be ever-so-slightly larger than Haldrath’s. Or the same size as Haldrath’s when he died, influenced by not only consuming Ratatoskr’s Eyes but also holding Nidhogg’s. Which are larger than the other knights. Point is, post-possesion, Estinien has fang-fangs. Ones that wold do real damage were he ever try to bite something (which is not his thing. He wouldn’t do it unless his arms were bound, his legs trapped to prevent him from jumping/kicking, and no other option available to him. In which case whoever was bitten would get some really deep puncture wounds). Upper being extremely prominent, lower being somewhat prominent (which, given only the noblest of nobles have lowers that could somewhat be considered fangs anymore, means they are a complete an utter oddity and thus extra terrifying). 

At first, it’s really annoying. First, it’s a constant reminder of what Nidhogg did to him, his failures, and his loss of control. Second, it’s uncomfortable. If you look at the dragons in game, they pretty much always have their mouths open because of how large their teeth (and fangs) are. It’s not impossible for Estinien to close his mouth fully, and it’s not as though the fangs stick out of his lips, but they’re long enough it makes it uncomfortable for him to have his lips tightly shut for long period of time. He’s not super self conscious, but he does have some standards, and so this is particularly unpleasant. Physically and mentally because of that discomfort/Nidhogg reminder combo.

It’s relieving leaving Ishgard. Eyes aren’t on him as much. He tends to leave his mouth ever-so-slightly open, enough that an outsider could see the hint of fangs (and when he does encounter people, boy do they do a double take) without putting all of his teeth on display or seeming like a complete weirdo. Sort of like the amount you open your mouth to breathe or sigh. Perfectly acceptable, but slightly odd to be the resting state rather than a closed mouth.

Over time he sort of forgets about it. Gets used to it. It’s not until he catches the Scions staring at him that he remembers and gets a little self-conscious, but decides it’s not that big of a deal. He is who he is. There’s nothing he can do about it (the thought of shaving/grinding his teeth down doesn’t even cross his mind, because fang size is a point of pride in Ishgard and most Ishgardians would be horrified to hear what Carvallain had done. Which is a side fun story, where Estinien gets to Kugane via the Misery and doesn’t realize Carvallain is Ishgardian because his teeth are shaved down whereas Carvallain looks at Estinien and thinks “what in the ever loving f*ck” because nobody should have fangs that big. His crew figures Estinien is some secret Ishgardian noble and that’s why he has big fangs, knowing Ishgardians with fangs is a thing, but as a noble himself Carvallain knows that is not normal and something really odd is going on because the dragoon has a distinctly Coerthan and thus commoner accent and giant fangs why are they on both top and bottom who even HAS bottom true-fangs.). 

People flinch when he grins since it shows off some fangs. It’s still annoying. But that’s their problem for getting scared, not his. He doesn’t like when people point it out. He’d rather no one react. But every once in a while, if someone has really annoyed him, he’ll make a point to yawn or grin very wide to show off his fangs. Only if they’d pushed him hard. Though Nidhogg may have changed him, and though he may hate the permanent reminder, he doesn’t want to allow nidhogg the victory of forever making Estinien upset at his own being. Where Nidhogg may have changed his appearance to damn him, he’ll use it as a tool instead. 

I might go into this more at some point, or proofread it, but for now this post is ridiculously long so I’ll end it here. If you’ve made it to the end, congrats! Thank you for sticking with my spur-of-the-moment rambling about Ishgardians with fangs. Maybe some day I’ll go into other HCs I have about Ishgardian dragon traits. But that’s for later. See ya!

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch​, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series! 

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly … yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending. 

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so. 

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her. 

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued. 

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly. 

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it. 

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye. 

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly. 

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn. 

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.  

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass. 

A Time Turner. 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it. 

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly. 

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously. 

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop. 

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her. 

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. 

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. 

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt. 

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.”

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand. 

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. 

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time. 

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient. 

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell. 

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled. 

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door. 

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Come in,” she said. 

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes. 

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. 

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked. 

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk. 

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore. 

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.” 

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile. 

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not. 

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do -- 

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time. 

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc. 

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it. 

Good luck. 

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

[the-gay-prometheus]

Either 15 from Fluff; “You saved me.” Or 48 from Angst; “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”

Hehe. You gave me an angst prompt. This was a mistake.

So I decided to do something completely different with this. I had the sudden inspiration to write something not for my main AU... but instead for that ridiculous Red Dead Redemption/Frankenstein crossover AU that I'm now affectionately dubbing Undead Redemption because I have absolutely zero creative talent.

No I'm not planning on actually seriously pursuing this AU. But uh... this prompt made me think of it so I decided to write for it! This... this is a doozy of a piece. Be warned... it’s.... intense. It’s also pretty long so... sorry about that. (needless to say - I chose the angst one)

TW: Blood, character death, murder, hysteria? panic? something like that

~~~

The town of Strawberry was charming - well worth the travel, Henry thought. Remote, but certainly not too much so, as the larger town of Blackwater was only a half-day’s ride away. Surrounded by pine forests and brisk with a mountain’s breeze, it was a quiet town of bare-log houses and little in the way of amenities. A rushing stream cut through the town’s center, turning a large wheel which likely produced what little electricity could be found there.

Henry smiled as he rode down the dirt road, his red roan mare plodding along patiently until he pulled her to a halt at the hitching post in front of the house that was to be his lodging for the week. “Ata girl,” he cooed softly, ruffling her mane with his hand before dismounting. She shook her head with a snort, and rested one hind hoof on its edge as she settled in to stand for however long it would be until she was to be ridden again. Henry reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, holding it out to her with a flat palm, and she gladly snatched it up. Chuckling at her eagerness at the scent of a treat, Henry pat her on the neck and pulled her reins over her head, tying them securely to the hitching post. Though he was giddy at the thought of adventuring through Mount Shann over the next few days, today was to be a day of rest before the excursion, so he took his time unloading what little he had brought with him into the house before retiring to a sturdy wooden chair on the porch to watch the townsfolk go about their day. Part of him was itching to retreat further up the rocky hill behind where he was staying and sit in the woods to write as the sun set, but he was aching after a day of riding and he was far more inclined to stay and rest.

The evening was quiet yet cheerful, until out of the corner of his eye, Henry caught sight of what appeared to be a massive shadow approaching the town from the northern road - one that sent townsfolk scattering and shouting as they all shut themselves into whatever dwellings they could, some choosing instead to hop onto their horses and gallop off. Now thoroughly curious, Henry stood and squinted to get a better look. That shadow turned out to be a massive draft horse, the tallest he had ever seen, with what looked to be an even taller person sitting atop its back. As the stranger rode past the sheriff’s office, Henry could see the sheriff open the door, then quickly shut it again the moment the stranger turned his head to look at him. The odd figure continued on, then halted his giant steed in the middle of the road and dismounted, resting their hand on the horse’s neck and slowly sliding it away as they began striding down the road. As the stranger approached, Henry could hear the jingling of spurs and a sudden chill went down his spine. At about the midway point from the road to the porch where Henry stood, the stranger stopped. His hair was long and black and billowing like the tails of his heavy dark leather duster in the wind, and his face covered by the rim of a black cattleman’s hat that was tipped downward to hide his eyes. “Clerval!” The voice that echoed through the streets was clear and cold as the rushing stream it rose above, yet pitched somewhere between roaring thunder and the creaking of old pines. Henry felt his hair stand on end at the sound of his own name, but he kept his composure and slowly descended the steps, standing a distance from the stranger on the road.

“Is there something you need from me, s-” Henry felt his breath catch in his throat as the stranger slowly raised his head and pulled a dark bandana that covered his mouth and nose down with one gloved hand. Even from a distance, beneath the shadow of his hat’s brim, the stranger’s eyes seemed to glow a dull yellow, sickly and pale yet burning bright enough to be visible from afar.

“The eyes! Those horrible eyes!”

“Victor! Victor, compose yourself! What eyes?” Henry held Victor tightly as the scrawny scientist writhed in feverish agony and pointed toward the wall.

“Surely you can see them! There! The fires of hell burn within them!” Henry looked up and surveyed the empty room with worried eyes.

“Victor… love there’s nothing here,” he reassured him. Victor broke from his grasp and tried to stand, only to stumble backward again.

“Yellow! That dreaded yellow glow- he’s returned for me! He’s- he…” He suddenly went silent, eyes still bugged and wild as he collapsed onto the ground. Henry desperately wanted answers, but… whatever had happened, whatever Victor had seen to haunt him in such a way, it was still far too traumatic of a memory to be discussed. With a heavy sigh, Henry gently picked Victor up off of the floor and carried his limp body to bed, where he laid him down and kissed his sweat-covered forehead tenderly.

“Just rest, Victor. No one is here to hurt you. It’s just me. Everything will be ok.” He took Victor’s clammy hand and held it tightly. “So long as I am here with you, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Who- What are you?” Henry managed to ask as the memory passed through his mind. The stranger’s gleaming eyes seemed to widen, then narrow again. His left hand, which was bare unlike his right, pushed aside the leather of his duster and revealed a pistol holstered on his hip. The fingers that hovered over the pistol’s handle were long and bony with a mixture of pale and discolored skin. Henry felt his heart jump at the sight, and he instinctively raised his hands. “Sir I mean you no harm,” he reassured him. “Just… tell me who you are and how you know me.” The stranger hesitated, and Henry saw in him a sudden moment of weakness.

“I-” The stranger’s voice broke as he began to speak, and he faltered. “I am no one. I am nothing.” Henry’s racing pulse began to slow, and he cautiously stepped forward.

“Everyone is someone, everyone is something.” The stranger’s hand fell back and he dropped his head.

“Not me, Henry. Never me.” Henry felt a sudden sense of sympathy toward him. Surely this was the man Victor was so afraid of, and yet… he seemed so sad, so alone, much more like a lost child than a fearsome demon.

“Maybe not now, but if you let me help you, maybe we can find where you belong,” Henry called to him softly, slightly lowering his hands as he approached. The stranger took a step back. “May I ask your name?”

“I have no name,” was the stranger’s hushed reply. He raised his gloved hand and removed his hat, revealing his face. A scar with obvious stitching ran diagonally down it, and though his raven hair primarily covered over it, another ran along his forehead, and two more ran from his ears to about midway down his jaw line. Henry felt himself taken by the shock of the sight, but he showed no fear as he continued to approach. “Your Victor never gave me one.” Now finally putting the pieces together, Henry’s hazel eyes widened.

“So he finally did it,” he murmured. “He managed to create life from death-”

“And then leave it to die,” the creature interrupted. Henry could see tears streaming down his papery-skinned cheeks.

“I can see you’ve been through so much,” Henry pointed out sympathetically, lowering his hands further. “You can talk to me. I won’t hurt you.” The creature’s chest heaved and his eyes clenched shut as he turned his face away.

“No, no I certainly think you won’t.” In one swift motion, the creature pulled the pistol from its holster and held it cocked, pointed in Henry’s direction. Henry jumped, raising his hands up again as his heart began to race. Though his gun was pointed, the creature seemed hesitant. His hand shook and his face was still turned away. For a moment, he lowered his gun and he wiped the tears from his eyes with his gloved hand.

“You don’t want to do this,” Henry muttered, suddenly filled with a strange mixture of fear and empathy. “You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s just it, Henry,” the creature whispered. His eyes lifted to the red painted sky of dusk. “I have no choice. There are consequences for his actions. A price must be paid as reparation for what he’s cost me.” There was a sudden shift in his expression that made Henry feel his blood run ice cold. “And that price is you.”

He barely felt the bullet when it hit. All there was, was the deafening sound of the shot and the screams that rose from the buildings that followed, the flying open of doors and windows to see what had happened, the terrified whinnies of horses, and a sudden gush of something onto his hands which instinctively flew to his chest. As he fell, he saw the creature become unsteady, nearly falling himself as the smoking pistol fell from his hand, before tensing and letting out an unearthly cry that seemed to echo through the still dusk air. He could see the creature’s stallion turn from the calm shadow he was into a panicked wreck of a beast, pawing and pacing and rearing onto his hind hooves. The creature himself turned and ran, jumping back into the saddle. As he turned his horse around, he looked over his shoulder to Henry one last time with a sorrowful look in his yellow eyes before placing his hat back onto his head and spurring his steed into a swift gallop until he disappeared over the hill beyond.

Hooves pounded on the dirt road that led to the western side of the town, kicking up dust as horse and rider flew down the path. Victor’s eyes kept a steely gaze on the town entrance ahead, his heart racing. As he had been walking down the road, there had been a sudden exodus from the town, with folks high-tailing it out as fast as they could, and he knew something was very wrong. Though his silver gray Kladruber mare was pushing just about as hard as she could, the sound of a gunshot spooked Victor into kicking his heels into her sides hard. She leaped from the pain of it with a panicked neigh, her ears pinning back as she kicked her legs out and pushed into a faster gallop than she had ever managed in her life. Tearing past the arch of the town entrance, Victor tore at the left rein, and his mare nearly tripped over herself as she made as sharp a turn as she could and tore over the bridge that led to the other road. The moment they crossed, Victor watched as one figure stumbled back and another far taller, ran and disappeared over the hill on his mount. Yanking back on both reins, Victor forced his mare into a skidding stop, leaping off her back before she had even fully stopped and racing to Henry just as he fell. He caught him in his arms, but struggled to hold up his weight and fell backward himself. Frantically, he tore the bandana from around his own neck and pressed it hard against the wound that spilled with blood. “Stay with me Henry,” he muttered, though he felt he was going to be sick. “Stay with me, come on, stay with me.” Henry coughed and sputtered, but looked up at him with a strained smile.

“Victor- it’s- it’s ok,” he wheezed. Victor pulled the bandana back slightly to inspect the wound.

“I’ll need to get that bullet out-” He paused, wildly searching around. “Is there a doctor in this town?!” he exclaimed, searching for any sign of a practice that might have the tools he would need. Henry suddenly gripped his arm.

“Victor, no,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t- don’t…” His voice trailed off and his breath grew more ragged. Tears began streaming down Victor’s face and his vision started to blur, his heart pounding hard in his chest as panic coursed through him.

“Somebody! Anybody! Help!” he cried out. A few terrified but curious townsfolk began opening their doors to see what was happening. Henry suddenly twitched and sucked in a deep breath, his eyes growing wide. Victor gripped him tighter, pressing harder at the wound. “No- no no no- Henry!” In his arms, the body he held convulsed, and after an exhale and another sudden sharp inhale, it went limp, and once bright hazel eyes stared coldly up at him, sightless. “Henry,” Victor croaked his name, his hand falling from the wound and taking the lifeless hand of the one he held. “Henry please…” he whimpered, choking back a sob. “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me,” he begged. The warmth from the body he held was already beginning to seep away, and the skin began to grow cold. He was gone. Truly, completely gone. There were no longer any thoughts in Victor’s mind. Everything was as blank and empty as the soulless stare from the lifeless eyes that seemed to pierce through his soul. In a blind state of panic, Victor dropped the body and stared down at his hands. He stood, shaking violently as he stared down. Blood dripped from his fingers, but he could barely see it as his vision was so hazy and unclear. He gripped at his face hysterically, smearing blood over his hair and skin. The sudden feeling of it and the realization of what it was sent him into utter turmoil, and he let out an inhuman shriek, stumbling around in blind panic and screaming until he tripped over the corpse’s outstretched arm and fell into the dirt below. As he writhed, a mess of blood and tears, he felt himself go numb, and with one final cry, his eyes rested back on Henry’s lifeless stare and he drew in a ragged breath. Panic turned to searing rage, and he grit his teeth. Around him, a few townsfolk had gathered to check on his condition, but their voices were drowned out by the pounding of his own heart, and his sight faded away to white as his consciousness slipped away.

[thefanficmonster]

Close Call

John (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS, Swearing, Near-death scene

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Colleagues John and Y/N are stranded in the ghost town of Little Hope with four of their students. Will the two manage to save their group from the horrors the town has to provide for them? Will they both live long enough to see the next day and maybe finally come clean to one another?

Requested by @artlovingbre  Hello dear! Sorry to be posting your amazing request so late, hope it makes the wait worth it. I love John, he’s such a comfort character and he needs to be protected at all costs haha. Please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

“Are you alright?“ Shiny eyes shed a concerned gaze on him while a warm hand hold his cheek, adjusting his head to a specific angle. “Try to open your eyes, John.“ She speaks in a soft voice, guiding him back to consciousness.

His eyelids lift ever so slightly, his foggy vision not doing the woman crouched in front of his slumped body justice. He can see the worry mixed with light fear on her features. Something about the look in her eyes tells him she’s seen something that mortified her.  John’s gaze clears up when he focuses on that exact element of her gaze, the one suggesting she’s not doing as well as she’d like others to think. He almost chuckles to himself at how signature of a Y/N move that is.

Y/N Y/L/N, the Business and Management professor who has recently been transferred into their college. In her early thirties, she’s only had about ten years of teaching experience but she has easily become the most liked and professor on campus. Her attitude and her teaching are basically a formula for success one can’t deny. She’s earned herself this job with a lot of work, having come from a much smaller and less-known college where she taught a class of roughly twenty people, she had to teach many other classes as well, considering she also possesses great knowledge in Economics and English Literature. She’s continued to do so, being a substitute professor whenever an English Lit or ECON one couldn’t make it, while also tutoring on the side. She has worked hard to make it in the world of knowledge and John finds her incredibly inspiring.

He met her when he was looking for a professor to cover for him while he got through the final preparations of the school trip he was planning for a group of his students. She would’ve volunteered immediately, he’s definitely certain of that, but this time around he was actually directed to her by a fellow colleague. Seeing her for the first time felt like he was witnessing a phenomenon he’s heard many people talk about but no one was sure it existed. He had heard whispers about her all over campus, she was rather popular - she had come to the college and brought a breath of fresh air with her, getting the students wondering and making assumptions about her. She carried herself with such powerful confidence, it got everyone thinking she’d be a strict, no-nonsense, stuck-up professor who asked for too much while not giving the students enough.

Needless to say, they couldn’t have been more wrong.

John has never connected to a person so quickly and easily before. The new professor was certainly something the school needed but no one could suspect it’d be someone of her rank. Even he felt he was below her and he has been teaching for twice as long as she has. There’s something so appealing about her, makes him want to never stop talking to her - if circumstances allowed for such a thing, he’s certain neither of them would run out of things to say. They have plenty in common, a lot of stories to share and a lot of advice to give one another despite him being the more experienced professor.

“What the hell was that?“ He mutters, sitting up in a more upright position.

Y/N scoffs, “You tell me. That man, he looked just like you. And....there’s no explanation for this, is there?”

They’ve just witnessed John’s double’s execution. It was a real torture to be exposed to such a horrifying scene. The death in and of itself was disturbing, but one can only imagine how the entire situation is messing with their heads - especially Y/N’s. She’s a person of logic, she likes being in the know and fully understanding issues and problems. She can’t just accept this illogical occurrence that has been happening to them all night. It’s tiring her out and driving her mad. Matters are a lot worse when you don’t know why they are the way they are or how they came to be. Knowing she functions based on this principle, John can’t help but feel bad for not being able to help her. Hell, she’s doing all the helping around here, he’s the one who blacked out when they returned from that hellish trip back in time.

Their students are surrounding them, all looking on with worry and confusion as to what they saw. These trips back in time have become common in the past our or two, they no longer question it when it happens, instead they focus on what they see.

“None as of now, but...“ He starts speaking, looking for words of comfort which are cut short when a sudden noise comes from somewhere nearby, amongst the tall grass and bushes.

It sounds like a fast movement, quickly accompanied by a growl-like sound that is enough to freeze the two in their spot while their students each took a step back, getting further away from the possible danger up ahead. John and Y/N get up hand in hand, eyes glued onto the now visibly rustling grass from which emerges a gruesome creature straight from hell. It’s not their first run-in with a monstrosity like this one - they faced the chain-bound one going after Angela; the floating, long-tongued one with it’s target on Taylor and the spear bearing one in pursuit of Daniel.

This one is his. It’s finally his turn to spin the wheel of fortune and see how likely he is to survive. 

His thoughts are racing, he can hear the thumping of blood in his ears. This is either gonna be his demise or a story to tell, the two options so far from one another, so surreal. They remind him how fragile his life is. How little it would take for him to be wiped off the face of the Earth, but how much effort he’d have to put in to save himself and the people he’s responsible of. Among them, a person he hasn’t been fully truthful with this whole time...

“GO IN THE HOUSE! NOW!“ Y/N’s voice grounds him, pulls him back to reality. She shakes his arm, yanking his attention to her, “John, we gotta move!“

The thought of one of these things even daring to get close to Y/N mortifies and angers him. He doesn’t want to run from these creatures, demons or whatever the fuck they may be. He’s done choosing flight.

“I’m sick and tired of allowing them the upper hand.“ He exclaims in frustration, looking around for something to use as a weapon. “Y/N, go inside. I’ll meet you there shortly.“

His words are insanity to her. She can’t even imagine leaving him behind as he’s suggesting, but she knows arguing would be futile. Instead, she backs away without as much as a word.

The demon starts approaching, this one’s movements a lot faster and more rapid in comparison to the rest they’d faced. John is aware he’ll need to stay razor sharp to even have a chance of survival, not that there’s much for him to do against an overpowered demon moving at that speed while all he has is the old sledgehammer he finds laying nearby.

He manages to get one good swing in, pushing the thing away, earning himself some time to put distance between him and the demon, but before he is able to do so, the thing is already charging at him and has him toppling to the ground, promising to seal his fate right here and now.

A sudden hit is delivered to the demon’s head with incredible force, giving John the freedom to stand up and look to see who his savior is as they go in for another swing with what looks to be a metal pipe.

It’s Y/N.

“Take that, you piece of shit!“ She yells, delivering another blow to the head. 

John runs to her side, guiding her away by the arm now that the demon is far enough away. Adrenaline is pumping through the both of them, keeping them on their feet despite the shaking of their knees. They attempt to make a run for the house, but Y/N’s movements are hindered by the chain that wraps around her calf, yanking her back and onto the ground.

John wastes no time rushing to her aid, using the sledgehammer to free her from Angela’s demon’s grasp and pulls her to her feet.  This time, the run to the house is successful. They make it inside, mildly harmed, out of breath and with rapid heartbeats. And with their lives, of course. Surprisingly, they made it in with all their limbs and their lives. That has to count for something.

“You suck at following instructions, don’t you?“ John asks Y/N after they briefly catch their breath.

She chuckles, holding the wrist she sprained when manning the heavy metal pipe as a weapon, “No, I just protect the people I care about. You should know what that’s like.” She bumps his shoulder with her, sending him a warm smile.

He sure knows what it’s like.

                                                               *  *  *

It’s all over. They are safe, back on campus. Shaken up, bruised and traumatized but alive and safe from any physical harm. For the mental torment they will be helped by professionals, friends and family. What matters is that they’re alive.

“Hey, um, I never got to thank you for saving my life back there.“ John hesitantly approaches Y/N once each student is picked up by someone from the school parking lot, presumably to be taken to a hospital. The two of them can’t go anywhere before they take responsibility for what happened.

Y/N grins at him, her tired eyes shining in the late morning sunshine. “I couldn’t leave my favorite colleague to die now, could I?” She laughs, placing a hand on his shoulder, “And thank you for saving my life.”

He returns her smile, covering her hand with his, “Couldn’t let you die on your first school trip, could I?”

She laughs again, shaking her head in what appears to be disappointment, “First and last. I bet I’m getting fired for this.” She looks down at her shoes, digging them into the pavement.

“Hey.“ He gives her hand a squeeze, grasping her attention  causing her to look up at him and meet his warm gaze, “I won’t let that happen. I promise.“

Y/N sighs and nods, exhaustion radiating off of her, “Alright, I trust you. Let’s just get it over with, shall we?” She tilts her head towards the entrance of the school.

Ok John, now or never. Just spit it out

“Um, Y/N?“ He says her name questioningly, causing her to turn to fully face him, “Would you maybe want to head to lunch afterwards? I completely understand if you’d prefer to be alone, but if you want some company...“ He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck, nervous as all hell. That’s really telling, considering they just escaped hell.

He resists the urge to close his eyes and cringe at how hesitant and awkward he sounds. Where is that bold side of him that wanted to fight a demon earlier?

“Sure, John. I’d love nothing more. Lord knows company is just what I need right now. I’d hate to be alone, I think I might lose it.“ Her response accompanied with a slightly shy chuckle sends an overwhelming wave of relief crashing down onto him, allowing him a sigh.

Sometimes, as John would learn, going through hell may be worth it when you consider the aftermath.

A chance with Y/N is his aftermath, and it just about makes the hell of Little Hope worth it. He’s yet to find out for certain though.

@sparrow-gg  @megandaisy9

[horanghaechan]

Freedom (Johnny) - final

pairing: Demon!Johnny x Dancer!You (female character)

word count: around 6k

synopsis: After dancing at NCT’s party and having a private session with Johnny, you find yourself in a different situation. 

Inspired by Freedom - Kris Wu ft Jhené Aiko.

(Part 1 here)

[a/n]: i actually had a side-blog once and posted it there but i got author’s block and deleted everything. anyway, i’m rather proud of this scenario so i decided to post it again lol

You say you want some freedom You ain't got a leash on, you ain't coming home But where you wanna go You already know We can blow a creeper on the low I’ll be on my throne Tryna take it slow Guess you can control, let's play

 On rainy days, Y/N would rant about having to go to college in such a weather, then she would eat a schwarma and watch a good “Vines Compilation” until her mood was slightly better. Chances were that, if the “Bewitched boy vine” or the Mexican kid screaming "Alguien se comió mi torta” were in them, she’d smile.

However, since Johnny Seo happened, Y/N didn’t do any of that.

And that was three months ago.

“You’re really refusing a ride for college in this shitty weather?!” Yuta rolled his eyes.

“I’m refusing dying for a second time, Yuta.” Y/N chuckled.

“I won’t pick you up if the storm gets stronger, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She opened the door of her apartment. “Before you leave, turn  the lights off.”

“Why don’t you move back to our house?”

“Because I can’t stand Youngho.” Y/N quipped. “Don’t forget the lights, dear!”

“I’ll pick you up at 9PM, college’s main door. One minute late and you’ll go back home all alone and in the rain.” Yuta yelled while she was leaving.

“Thank you.” She grinned, knowing he would always play hard to get.

  Later that night…

When Johnny heard a loud – excited – scream coming from Lucas, he knew she was there. It took her almost two months to come back... But who was counting, huh?

He pushed the girl out of his lap and barely looked at her while he dressed back.

“You gotta leave.”

“What?” The blonde beauty glared at him, shocked.

“You gotta leave. I need to address to an important matter right now.”

“B-but you said you didn’t have any business today!”

“Turns out I do.” He sighed. “Hurry up, I’ll escort you to the door.”

The girl pouted, but it didn’t make him change his mind. His attention drifted to the new female demon that had entered his property, the one that made his blood boil. He checked himself in the big mirror, feeling extremely hypnotising and sensual. Obviously, Y/N would pretend not to feel a thing, but he wanted her to be a bit shaken by his appearance. They didn’t part in good terms, so Johnny decided to give her a sample of the life she lost by gently telling him “to fuck off” and storming out of the room like a crazy ex-girlfriend. While closing his door, he made sure the sound was loud. When he walked to the stairs, he could hear Taeyong and Yuta saying something about ‘kitchen’ and there was a small silence. Perfect for his dramatic entrance.

Y/N looked up to the foyer at the sound of steps, her insides tightening at the sight of Seo Youngho. Then, right behind him, there was a tall, golden-haired lady that looked like a model.

“Cassiopeia is leaving.” Johnny announced in that hypnotic voice of his.

“I thought she had just arrived?!” Lucas frowned.

“Turns out she has some stuff to do.”

The girl looked so offended by his remark but didn’t object to any of it.

“Oh, ok then.” Lucas shrugged. “Y/N, Doyoung and I are going up to play some games, she’ll sleep over. Yuta and Tae are cooking dinner. Wanna join us?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “Bye, Cassiopeia.”

And without a word, he left her alone in the staircase. She made an ‘I’m offended’ sound and came to the main floor, looking at Y/N and Lucas in pure annoyance.

“Johnny said he didn’t have anything to do, but then he kicks me out… What is happening, Lucas?” She inquired, trying to pout cutely.

“How would I know that, dear?” Lucas ventured, dismissing her with a soft grin. “C’mon Y/N, I’ve bought the French deck so you can teach me that truco game.”

Truco is a card game for two, four or six players, who shout a lot and make signs to tell their partner what cards they had. It’s a popular game in Latin American countries, with some regional differences, but funny either way. She was used to play that with her friends, Inez being the one that taught them how to. Since she couldn’t see the girls ever so often, Y/N decided that she would teach the boys, so whenever she felt like playing, she’d have company.

When Lucas opened his bedroom door, Johnny was there – his silky black hair parted in the middle and the white button-up shirt with the three first ones unbuttoned. Y/N felt as if she was punched in the stomach, his beauty too much for her own good.

“What are we playing?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing.” She replied. “Actually, I’ll go to the kitchen to help Yuta and Taeyong.”

“Are you really going to run away every time we meet?” Johnny pouted. “I didn’t take you as a coward, mei fortuna.”

“And I didn’t take you as a joke, Youngho, but look at where we are now?!” She spat.

“Ok, I’m gonna get Doyoung and when I come back, I want everyone behaving politely and pretending to be friends, huh?!” Lucas spoke slowly, as if he was talking to small, naughty children.

He left the room, closing the door with a dry sound. Y/N sighed, throwing herself on his bed and facing the ceiling in a stupid attempt to ignore the male demon.

“So, how’s life?” Johnny tried going for a small talk.

“Pretty good.” Y/N muttered. She intended to sound rude.

“Did Yuta tell you about the party this weekend?”

“He did, yes.”

“You coming?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” She looked at her nails, pretending to be uninterested.

“You can’t possible think about living only with your friends’ sins, Y/N. What if they notice you’re always the reason they start gossiping?”

“I don’t live off of only gossips. People commit sins every hour, duh.”

“You manipulate them to commit small sins, then?” Johnny laughed. “That isn’t enough.”

“Well, you should’ve thought better before ruining my life and turning me into a demon. I prefer doing things this way, it’s easier and doesn’t make my conscience ashamed.”

“Are you kidding me? You make your friends sin! What type of conscience is that?”

“And what about you? Do you even have one? You, I quote again, ruined my fucking life!”

“Aw, don’t be petty. At least I did it for myself and never pretended to have done with for something or someone else.” The corner of his mouth quirked up and she rolled her eyes. 

What was she expecting, to begin with? That he killed her to save his friends?! To save the world?! Ha, ha.

“See? And I’m doing this for myself too.”

“You won’t be powerful enough if you keep doing it.”

“I don’t intend to be powerful enough.”

“Are you sure?” Youngho tilted his head to the side, only the tiniest bit, but it drove her crazy.  That horrible man was so sarcastic and so arrogant… Ugh! She wanted to choke him!

Doyoung walked in with Lucas, automatically putting an end to their discussion.

“Let the games begin!” He shouted happily.

Y/N really tried not to get affected by Johnny’s presence, but it was impossible. She couldn’t stop remembering everything. Every fucking thing.

The tension when they met, how she was so hypnotised by him at first glance. Her dance and his eyes on her all the time. When they flirted. When she rejected him. The lap dance. When they kissed. When they fucked and how amazing, ethereal, unique that was… Then she died because of him. Fuck, it was so hard to accept the truth! Only being able to live because she took advantage of others and made them sin… She even brought her loved ones into the mess! What kind of disgusting creature would even do that?

But demons were like that and the faster she learned to deal with it, the better.

Also, there was one more thing bothering her: if she hadn’t arrived, Johnny would’ve slept with that Cassiopeia girl… Right? She said he kicked her out when they arrived.

Y/N felt the need to vomit.

“You seem a bit off, dear.” She was surprised by Doyoung’s soothing voice and the petname. Normally, Lucas was the one to be affectionate (and caring).

“I’m tired from college, so I can’t get into my competitive mode and make the game funnier.”

“How many months until it ends?”

“Two, thank God.” She chuckled, earning three smirks in response.

“You’re really a believer now.” Johnny teased her, knowing she would get annoyed.

“I actually had no other option.” Y/N’s tone was dry and she refused to look at him.

“Well, I’m sure the supper is almost ready, so what about we stop the game for now and go to the kitchen? If you eat you’ll get a boost of energy.” Doyoung held her hand, shocking her even more. 

Did the boys actually feel sorry for her having to put up with Johnny?!

“Agreed.” Lucas shook his head. “Let’s go, princess.”

Youngho was frowning due to Doyoung’s odd behaviour, but it got unbearable thanks to Lucas’ boldness. What the fuck was wrong with his friends? Did Y/N need to be pampered and treated as the most delicate flower now?

If he was going to be honest with himself – which he was not –, he'd admit that he was a bit jealous. Y/N didn’t need sugar-coated treatment; she liked things rough, she was tough and cold when she needed to be, and knew how to put people in their place. A woman like her should be treated as a goddess, not as a fragile lady. And, well, Johnny knew how to treat her right. He knew exactly what to do to make her squirm, to capture all of her attention, to crawl under her skin. Unfortunately, since they were connected by her transformation, he was sure Y/N knew what to do to him as well…

Even though she never seemed interested in using it to her favour.

That was the saddest thing about turning people into demons: you created a bond with them; so you could feel when they are struggling, when they’re excited, when they’re mad or happy... That’s why less and less demons offered or agreed to do so; it was too much trouble. When Y/N woke after “dying” and they talked, Johnny went out to find more experienced demons who could help him figure out what really had happened, but there wasn’t much information about what happened when someone becomes demon without selling their soul and requesting to come back as one of them. Then, he wasn’t able to answer all of her questions and Y/N freaked out, deciding she had enough and was wasting her time... So she left him.

Him.

She didn’t leave Yuta, Taeyong, Lucas or Doyoung.

She left just him.

Moreover, it was a hard punch on his ego. No one ever left him, he left them.

When they sat down for dinner, Y/N was between Yuta and Lucas, looking more relaxed than before. She loved Taeyong’s food because it was always homemade and he usually cooked dishes she could use as “comfort food”; besides, that’s what eating meant to her: comfort. He had prepared dough soup (sujibae), mushrooms, courgettes and garlic bread as sides, and for dessert chocolate lava cake. 

Yuta poured her some soup while she devoured in one bite the bread.

“Do you live in hunger?” He joked.

“Only when the weather is shitty.” Y/N stated. “Oh God, Tae, I love your food!”

“I’m glad I can help.” The leader smiled lovingly. “Did you have fun playing cards?”

“No, dear, not at all.” She shook her head. “Would you ever be so kind to pass me the mushrooms, Dodo?” The adorable smile she gave Doyoung (and that hideous petname) made Johnny scow. 

What the fuck was happening there?

“Should we start with the British accent as well?! Maybe some Regency outfits and a full decoration?” Doyoung joked, handling her the mushroom bowl.

“Capital! That would be precious.” Y/N leaned forward, a hand on her heart and eyes twinkling. “I’d like to be called ‘Your Grace’ or ‘milady’.”

“Holy fuck!” Lucas tried to muffled a laugh. “Suits you perfectly, tho. However, since I’ve always been calling you ‘princess’ I might have to stick with ‘Your Highness’, huh?”

“The higher the better.” She winked.

“Damn, you’re still here but I’m already missing you so much!” Yuta bawled. “Please, come back home! You’ll be safer and happier here, I swear.”

“Agreed.” Lucas and Doyoung said at the same time.

She felt her heart warm up with that. It was awesome living together with them – unfortunately, she didn’t want to put up with all the trouble Johnny brought her, and he sure would. Also, what would she do if he showed up with girls night after night? She couldn’t spend the whole day in the bedroom and the boys would think she was sick or going officially crazy… Yes, of course she could talk about Johnny with any of them, but she didn’t want to. Talking about him would make things more real… And she preferred to ignore it.

“You know I can’t, Yuta.” She was about to change subjects when she earned the puppiest ‘puppy eyes’ look of all them: Taeyong. “Stop, Tae! Don’t look at me like that! It’s not good for the baby.”

“Which baby?” He paled.

“Me.” Her mouth twitched.

Lucas chuckle soon turned into a laugh and soon everyone started laughing too… Everyone but Johnny. His eyes were bored into her, trying to tore her skin and uncover all truth she had hidden – sincerely, with the intensity of that gaze, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was naked.

  Johnny left her mouth, his strong body hovering over her and his hand kept its work. Y/N felt her heart beating loudly thanks to the pleasure.

It had to be the pleasure.

‘We’re not doing things your way.’ She moaned.

‘Are you sure?’ There he was again, being the stupidly arrogant man he was.

‘We’re not.’ Y/N tried to assure her own head.

‘Aw, I think we will.’ His long digit eased its way inside her, making Y/N’s eyes shut automatically. The hideous man! ‘What do you say?’

‘Stop, Youngho, that’s what I say. Stop.’

He paused as instructed but his finger was still in her.

Y/N abruptly shifted on the bed, the wet dream still painfully alive on her memory. She looked to the side – Lucas, as the heavy sleeper he was, didn’t even flinch at her agony. Leaving the mattress, she grabbed her night-robe and decided that the kitchen was the best place to deal with frustrations… Or whatever “wet dreams” should be classified.

  She was in the middle of preparing hot chocolate when she heard steps.

“Oh, you’re here.” Johnny’s voice sent shivers down her spine.

“Youngho.” Y/N breathed in.

“Y/N.”

“Why are you here?”

“Am I not allowed to enter my own kitchen?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m here because I was hungry and smelled chocolate, so I thought Tae was having a midnight-crisis and wanted to bake something to chill out.” He shrugged. “Anyway, mei fortuna, what about you? What made you wake up so early? A wet dream?” He smiled innocently at her, doing his best to look uninterested.

“How the fuck did you know?”

“I’m connected to you, I told you already.”

“Yeah, in a really dumb and weak way.” She sneered. “Stop reading my mind, then.”

“I’m not reading it; what the fuck do you take us for?! We’re not in Twilight!” Johnny crinkled his nose. “You died in lust and greed, that’s why these are more intense in your life now. And, not to be nosy, you need to fuck often.”

“Oh my fucking God.” She rolled her eyes, turning off the stove.

“You’ve been calling Him a lot.”

“Yeah, I found out He’s the only one listening to my complaints, currently.”

“Aren’t your soldiers working hard to grant each one of your wishes?”

“My soldiers?”

“Lucas, Yuta, Taeyong and Doyoung. I’ve never seen them this devoted.”

“They aren’t my soldiers, but I won’t apologize for the way they treat me.” She smiled coyly. “If it bothers you, I suggest you mind your own business, then.”

“It is quite hard to mind my own business when they’ve been all petnames and sugar-coated actions on you.” Johnny stated matter-of-factly. “You don’t need this.”

“What are you trying to suggest? That I don’t deserve to be pampered?!”

“Precisely.” He agreed. “You don’t like that.”

“Do you even listen to yourself sometimes?” She scoffed, offended.

“Mei fortuna, you like roughness and choking, you like playing the femme fatale and you like the idea of being in control even when you know that it ain’t true.” Johnny raised a brow. “Or am I wrong? Do you really enjoy those ‘princesses’ and ‘dears’ and ‘sweethearts’?”

“Judging by this I suppose you call me a whore when you go on with your ‘Mei fortuna’ thing, right?!”

Johnny’s eyes lighted up in surprise. He thought she would know by now, but that wasn’t the case.

“Actually it’s a Latin expression that means ‘My luck’… Since you’re my lucky charm.”

She didn’t mean to be touched by it. She didn’t even like what it represented… But she, somehow, felt her heart getting warm and small.

Oh, for fuck sakes, the man was hideous!

“Hmpf. Well.” She stuck her nose in the air, dismissing him. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Without your hot chocolate?”

“You can have it.”

“Are you coming to the party this Saturday?”

“Perhaps I will.” Y/N disappeared into the hall, leaving Johnny with a smug smile.

It was flattering that she had a wet dream with him and felt bothered by it. He couldn’t wait to put his hands on her again… And he would make sure to do it on Saturday.

  ●●●

Yuta had showed Y/N all the possible souls she could buy or feed off. He knew how to handle her and how to make it all seem less horrible – which she preferred.

“You have to feed yourself, love. Properly.” He had told her, compassion shining on his dark eyes.

Yuta was right, as expected. After corrupting two souls, her body felt stronger, alive. And the feeling was addictive; she wanted to keep doing that for ages.

Congrats Y/N, you’re a hideous being. – her conscience screamed.

A tall man walked past the group she was talking to, the dark blue suit so beautiful and shiny that it caught her attention. Her eyes went straight up to the man’s face… Just to find out he wasn’t a stranger at all. Of course Seo Youngho would be walking around as if he was God himself. They exchanged glances and Y/N felt another type of hunger.

Damn, she would give everything to get dicked down by him (again).

With a handshake, she dismissed her targets and approached Devil.

“Youngho.”

“Y/N. You came.”

“Not really.” She couldn’t help but rejoice in his grin.

“That can be arranged.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it can.” She shook her head positively. “These guys are really easy to convince. In fact, Yuta showed me some of them, and the rest happened almost automatically.”

“So no more gossips? Are you eating properly?”

“Wanna check out?”

“No, no. I might get jealous.” He gave her a half smile. “But I’m glad you’re finally doing it right.” His eyes turned slowly into the devilish cognac colour, shining with wickedness and proudness, and Y/N felt her throat burn with desire.

That man was impossible.

“Isn’t Cassandra around?” Right after asking, Y/N felt stupid and childish.

“Cassiopeia?” Johnny looked at her with humour. “I don’t think she will come. She’s mad at me and I’m not in the mood to deal with humans.”

“But are you in the mood for demons?”

“It depends. Are they female?”

“Maybe…”

“Interesting. What else?”

“It’s just a possibility, though.” Y/N started cautiously. “I mean, you’re really arrogant and I’m still fed up with all that happened months ago – but maybe, and I stress it, maybe, I want us to fuck.” She blushed. “The wet dream and all…”

Johnny smirked.

“Wanna discuss it somewhere private?”

“Please.” She agreed.

  They got inside Johnny’s chamber and Y/N remembered the day she went there for the first time. Apparently, even though she didn’t sleep with him that night, it was bound to happen. And now, luckily, she would lay on that wicked bed and do wicked things with Mr. Wicked.

“Why are you still mad?”

“I’m having a hard time concealing my demon shit with my previous life. Now that I’m eating properly, it downed on me it’s real, you know?!”

“Yeah, it is tricky in the beginning.” He chuckled. “But I don’t see why you should stay mad at that, nor at me.”

“Oh, of course you only turned me into this, but where’s the problem, huh?!”

“Are we having this conversation again?”

“Well, I apologize for not fully adapting into a life I didn’t ask for!” Her tone was sarcastic, but the way her brows knotted together made her just cute.

He could feel her anger and her lust… Oh, she was so adorable! He couldn’t help himself.

“Y/N, look, I know you didn’t ask for it and I know you’re annoyed by what happened but there’s no way to reverse it. So, instead of being bitter and petty forever, why don’t you enjoy what was given to you? You have powers, you can manipulate lives and destinies… And you have me.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped.

“Well, I’m here to fuck you senseless, aren’t I?”

“I-I kinda hope so… I guess.”

“Then let’s close the topic. After I'll fuck your brains out, I think you’ll be able to see things clearer, alright?” Johnny locked the door. “Now be a good girl and strip for me. This skirt is driving me nuts.” He gestured to her leather skirt.

Her hands went to the clothing piece, but she stopped mid-way.

“What?” Johnny inquired.

“I was thinking… I’ve stripped for you once and did a lap dance.” She tilted her head to the side. “Would it be too greedy of me if I ask you to take them off yourself?”

He hesitated for a brief second, then smirked.

“It would be a pleasure.”

Y/N felt her heart beating fast while he approached her – those long fingers going straight to her cropped top. Her boobs fell down, free from the fabric, and Johnny’s mouth watered at the sight. He played with one nipple, feather touches, just to tease. Y/N was too focused on his alcoholic yellow eyes to try to make him stop with the teasing.

“You make me so thirsty, Youngho.”

Something in the way she said his name – as if it was a prayer – ignited him inside.

“For what?” One of his hands travelled up to her chin, cupping it.

“For cognac.” She closed her eyes and breathed in. “For kisses.” And then when she looked at him again, her irises were also yellow. “For you.”

He kissed her urgently, passionately, violently. It had been months since he felt something like that… Something so right. It couldn’t be just because he transformed her; he had that feeling long before. However, Johnny didn’t want to analyse anything but her body… Well, not yet. He tugged on her skirt, pulling it down slowly. Stopping the kiss to look at her in her burgundy lace set, he sighed contently. Oh, he would devour her.

“What?” Y/N questioned.

“Nothing. It’s just that you are too pretty for your own good.”

“And you’re too dressed for my own good.” She giggled.

“Well, do you want me to strip?” His voice was pure mockery, but his eyes were predatory.

“If you’d ever be so kind, sir.”

“Oh.” He smiled, his body beginning to withdraw from hers. “Then if you allow me to be greedy too, I have a request.”

“I thought you were the boss here.”

“Normally, yes. But once in a lifetime I can let someone else play the role… That being said, can you call me ‘Youngho’ or ‘Johnny’ as for tonight? Nothing about ‘sir’ or ‘Devil’.”

“That’s an odd request coming from you, sir, but I can comply.”

“Alright. Now that we’re settled, maybe you should sit down… I won’t be able to catch you if you faint while I strip.” He blinked in fake innocence, which made Y/N grin.

She didn’t want to argue with him right now. They were teasing each other and it felt good, not resentful like it has been for the past months. Even though calling him by his name would make things way more intimate, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Also, she needed a proper fuck. She needed someone like Johnny; and she didn’t want to ruin everything before she had an orgasm. 

When Y/N sat down on his bed and it was as if she was embraced by pure lust. She touched the black satin sheets and smiled to herself… She had a set that looked like that, and it was her favourite one. Then she looked up and forgot how to breathe. Handsome boys undressing from their suits should be elected as the first of the Seven Wonders of the World. After taking out his jacket, Johnny started unbuttoning his shirt, loving the way Y/N followed his fingers as if she was under hypnosis. He threw it aside, hands now on his belt, and Y/N licked her lips.

“Holy fuck, let me do it.” She reached out for him, but he slapped her hand.

“No, no. This is my time to shine, mei fortuna. You asked for a strip and you’ll get one.”

“You’re taking too long!”

“You took two months and a whole ass song! I’m not even gonna take four minutes.”

“My tongue is impatient.” She nagged. “Please, Youngho.”

“What does your tongue have to do with it?”

“I want to lick every inch of you, that’s the problem!”

He chuckled, finding her eagerness so adorable that he gave up. “Oh, ok then. Guess you can control now.”

Y/N wanted to take her time with his body, so she started from his neck. Getting up, she let her hands touch his shoulders while her mouth went to his chin and collarbones. Oh, he was delicious and addictive! What a horrible, hideous man! Johnny’s chest rose, breathing in, closing his eyes to enjoy the caress properly. Her tongue left small licks all over his torso, getting lazier with every step further down, next to his belt. One warm hand got rid of his trousers in a quick move, leaving him with his underwear. Y/N smiled to herself, undressing him from his last piece of clothes. Without warning, she swirled her tongue over his shaft, receiving a raspy grunt in response. She looked up, repeating the movement, slower. Youngho sighed, feeling shivers run through his body. He watched, mesmerised, Y/N start to suck him off, swallowing him as far as she could handle. He tightened the grip on her head, but not moving at all, because it was her time to dictate the rhythm. Her large nails clawed at his thighs and the shivers intensified. He let out a loud groan as Y/N squeezed her testicles lightly, testing them. Johnny leaned against the wall, succumbing to the pleasure, but his attention remained on her, unable to take his eyes off the wonderful scene that Y/N was sucking his dick.

She guided his wrist to her hair, not really needing to “be in control” to make him cum. Johnny accepted it as if he needed to be tugging on her hair tightly for his life. He kept her head still and started to fuck her mouth. Y/N looked up again, and her eyes were so lustful that it was more than he could bear; Youngho was never prepared to see her as beautiful and disposed as she was in sex. He really wanted her to be in Louvre, the most precious paint to ever be shown.

“Can I cum in your mouth, mei fortuna?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside.

She shook her head positively the best she could, due to their position. It didn’t take much to make Johnny cum – he got out slightly, so he could see his seed filling her mouth. It was all too erotic, too lustful, so right. He watched Y/N eagerly lick her mouth, giggling. Without giving him more time to take enjoy of the scene, Y/N stood up.

“I think you should lay down, Youngho.”

“Anything you want, love.” Johnny mocked her, doing as she suggested. “What are you going to ride tonight?”

Y/N tried to pretend she wasn’t surprised he guessed what was going to happen. “Your face, and then your cock... If you behave.”

Johnny chuckled. “The only noise you’re going to listen from me is my mouth devouring you, I promise.”

It took her a deep breath to start moving. Her heart was beating so fast and she was so anxious to have his mouth on hers that she, for a moment, thought she wouldn’t handle it. Y/N passed one leg on either side of his face, slowly going down before sitting on that pretty mouth. His tongue began to move, the friction and speed so wonderful that it made her moan loudly. That was so much better than what she had imagined. Holding on the headboard, Y/N tried to focus entirely on the sensations. Youngho licked her like a lazy cat, sucking ever so often on her clit and letting one hand rest on her thigh. When she felt fully enchanted, her hips started moving slightly, riding his face as she had warned before. Johnny growled, his tongue speeding up.

“If you suffocate, please just throw me aside.”

He pushed his face further on her pussy, as a response. Y/N’s eyes flew shut, the orgasm building quickly. Oh, the hideous man he was! Her body just couldn’t get enough of him! She gasped, tipping her head back, enjoying the tight grip on her stomach. Somehow, he smacked her butt and it was everything she needed to fall into the pool of pleasure.

Johnny didn’t wait for Y/N to calm down. He gently pushed her to the side and sat down, bringing her to his lap, kissing her hungrily. In a matter of second, she was already aligning herself in his member. His eyes brightened in anticipation. It was incredible how anything made by her became an intense erotic act. Her breasts arched forward while she sunk on his dick, and he took them in his hands, squeezed them, sucking her nipples and leaving little bites that made Y/N moan loudly. He stared at the spot where they met, feeling pure bliss. The first thrust was so precise that she ran out of air. Only Johnny could touch her in the right way, make her feel right. At that moment, while the two were together, Y/N did not think about her problems or their complicated relationship; she concentrated only on Youngho and all the wonderful things that made her feel. How desperate she had been for him, and it seemed to get worse over time. Staring into his alcoholic eyes, Y/N began rock against him, increasing their pleasure. She was still sensitive from the past orgasm and that was enough to make her hungry for another. Johnny grabbed her hip, the noise of thrusts being louder than the grunts and gasps they let loose. She ran her hands down his tanned backs then wrapped them around his neck, still grinding, but she lost some speed as he lowered his face and sucked one of her nipples. It was hard to focus on only one place in her burning body. She began to quiver, her nails digging into his shoulder and indicating her orgasm.

“Here.” Youngho took her hands on his, intertwining their fingers. “To keep you steady, love.”

The petname was too much.

He should come back with ‘Mei fortuna’ or anything that remembered her of who they truly was… But ‘Love’ was too much. ‘Love’ made her heart feel warm and melt. ‘Love’ made her think she could never stay a day without looking at those yellow eyes.

Y/N gave in to the spasms and searched for air as she reached her high – she was far away, plunged into absolute delight. No more than a minute later, she felt Johnny's arms hold her down, laying her on her back while he climbed up and shoved into her again. Y/N let out a little shriek from the surprise thrust. The strength in which he held her would leave marks, but Youngho was too eager for release to care. When he came, he moaned loud his hips slowing down only a bit. He grinned, sticking his forehead to hers and opened his eyes.

“One time I heard Lucifer is the prettiest being alive.” She murmured, hypnotised. “Are you sure your name is Youngho?”

“I am, Y/N.”

“Damn, if he is prettier than you than I hope to never meet him.”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s good when you don’t die after we fuck.”

“It only happened once.” She groaned. “Are you really going to ruin the mood?”

“It keeps me from doing something crazy.”

“Such as?”

“Asking you to move back home… Asking you to stay.” He shrugged, getting out of her.

Y/N sat down, shocked. “What to do you mean?”

“I thought fucking you would make you come to your senses, but turns out it backfired.”

“Youngho, I don’t have time for metaphors.”

“Maybe demons do fall in love, Y/N, and maybe I’ve fallen for you.”

She choked, too surprised to answer or pretend to be fine with what he said.

“And maybe that’s why you didn’t officially die when I corrupted you.” Youngho ruffled his hair, wiping a bit of the sweat off. “I don’t know, honestly. Nothing like this happened to my friends that corrupted beings of light, but none of them felt this drawn into their victims.” He approached her, holding her chin up and looking into her now yellow eyes. “When we met… When you left two months ago… It was you from the beginning, Just Y/N, not your light.”

Oh, the hideous, horrible man!

And just like that, he had her heart wrapped around his finger.

[whitecatindisguise]

Blood in My Veins

I decided to do a thing. This story was inspired by this post. Sooo.... let’s see how it goes.

P.S. @honeyxmonkey, I told you I will do it if you tell me no lmao

------

At first Varian didn’t suspect the thing. So what, his jail-mate seemed to be more awake during the night than day? It didn’t even disturb him how he always scooted away from the daylight pouring through the small window. After spending months in the darkened cell he, too, started to show symptoms of photophobia.

It was after their escape and taking over the kingdom he started to notice it wasn’t just Andrew. All of the Saporians tended to stay away from the daylight. They ordered to cover the windows with dark curtains, basking the interior of the castle in darkness. They never came out during the day, unless it was cloudy or raining. Varian couldn’t fathom, why all of them shared such peculiar dislike to sunlight.

Then, it started to get weirder. Whenever he worked in his lab, which was situated so low there was no windows inside, pushing him to use candles to even see anything, one of the Saporians was there. It wouldn’t bother him that much, if not how they always trailed after him, keeping too close for his own comfort. One time, he was quite sure he caught Clementine sniffing him.

But it wasn’t until few months after their escape that he finally learned, what was wrong with Saporians.

He just finished work for today, deciding to rest a little. His eyes were closing on their own and he could barely keep himself steady, as he walked towards his bedroom. Andrew trailed behind him like a shadow. It still sent the chill down the alchemist’s spine, no matter how much time has passed.

He finally managed to drag himself to his room and pushed the door forwards, making way towards his bed. The door behind him closed with a loud clank and he turned, surprised to see Andrew turning the key in the lock.

“What are you doing?” He asked confused.

The Saporian turned to him and the look he gave the boy was nothing like he’d ever seen. Andrew’s eyes bore into his small frame, assessing him, almost EATING him. It was disturbing, to say the least.

“I have no idea, what you’re doing in this lab of yours kid...” Andrew said, stepping closer, a sinister smile on his lips. “... but whatever it is, the smell of your blood is just breathtaking.”

“What?” Varian blinked and stepped back, tripping over the leg of the bed. He lost his balance and fell backwards, landing on the plush blankets.

Before he could react, Andrew closed the distance and was looming over the terrified boy. He licked his lips in delight and leaned closer, sniffing on  Varian’s neck.

“Yes... I’ve never smelled something like this before.” He murmured, hands gently but firmly pinning the alchemist to his bed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to held myself any longer.”

“What do you-?” Varian’s question was cut as Andrew lunged forward and he felt something sting his neck.

He let out a startled gasp. He tried to push the man away, to escape the grasp, but he couldn’t. He felt weaker by the second, his vision fogging. Finally, the pressure on his neck disappeared, followed by unpinning him from his bed.

Andrew pulled away and licked his lips again, a drop of red trailing down his chin.

“Ah, I knew you were special, kid.” He grinned and Varian could swear his teeth were sharper than they should be. The man reached out his hand and gently cupped the alchemist’s cheek. “Sleep now. We’ve got so much time before us.”

Varian tried to argue, tried to get the man explain himself. But his clouded mind refused to cooperate. His vision blackened and he passed out, two bite-marks visible on his pale neck.

~~~~~~

After that night, it became a somewhat usual occurrence. To Varian’s dismay, it wasn’t only Andrew. All of the Saporians shared the same trait and he started to find himself pinned and bitten in the neck more times than he would like. It came to the point he was constantly on edge, watching over his shoulder, trying to spot red eyes in the darkness of the hallway.

No matter how much he wanted to find another, scientific explanation for their behaviour, he was painfully aware of who exactly were they. Vampires. The creatures he only read in fairy tales, never believed to truly exist. If it wasn’t for the constant pain in his neck, his growing paleness and developing anaemia, he wouldn’t believe it either.

Somewhere along the time, he started to wear a coat with high collar, to hide the sickening sight every time he looked into the mirror. It helped a bit, but the marks were still visible, so he purchased a bandana, which successfully managed to cover his neck.

It was only for show, he knew. So that he could pretend everything was alright. Pretend his allies weren’t bloodthirsty creatures preying on him. Pretend he wasn’t getting more and more tired as the days went by...

~~~~~~

When Rapunzel came back, at first he was furious. It was the first emotion he felt, seeing the woman who destroyed his life, made him a criminal.

After the Princess and her friends were pushed away from the castle, Andrew didn’t even bother to wait until Varian was back in his room. He sunk his teeth right there, earning a moan of pain from the boy. The man murmured something about how anger made his blood even more enthralling. It was hard to pay attention, as his vision swum once again, his limbs losing strength.

He awoke in his room, neck hurting from the bite. He curled on himself, weeping silently over his fate. 

Then, the Princess came back, sneaked inside right under their noses. Apparently, she was found crying in Cass’ room, holding her dress to her chest. If it wasn’t for that, Varian wasn’t sure she would be found and caught.

But there she was, stuck behind the bars as he once was. The irony of the situation was laughable, to say the least. He bantered to her how she made his life miserable, how he’s going to fix it up himself, because he couldn’t count on her. And then, everything went south.

The Saporians revealed they were planning to use the unstable Quirineon to blow up Corona. Varian was furious. Not only they used him a their personal food source, the thought of which sent a chill up his spine, but they even refused to listen to one request he had, that no one got hurt!

In a spur of a moment he tried to trap them, throwing a bomb in their direction. But, of course, nothing ever goes like he wants it too. The bomb turned out to be a bathbomb, useful when you want to take a quick bath, but useless to use AGAINST someone.

Andrew laughed, his eyes glinted red, and Varian shivered, backing away.

“Bad move, kid.” The man stepped closer, licking his lips. The alchemist could see the teeth sharpening.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!” Rapunzel cried from behind him. If Varian wasn’t frozen in fear, he would have laughed. So NOW she’s concerned about his well-being, huh?

“Oh, don’t worry, princess.” Andrew was now so close, the boy could smell the cologne he used. The man leaned forward and sniffed, letting out a pleased sigh. “We would never hurt our favourite snack, would we?”

Before the princess managed to process what he said, Andrew pulled away the bandana from Varian’s neck and sunk his teeth. The alchemist cried out, as the man was more forceful than usual. His teeth sunk deeper, he was sucking blood with more strength.

Varian’s knees buckled, his eyelids started to close. Andrew pulled away and watched the boy fall to the floor, wiping the blood from his mouth.

“Consider it a punishment for your disobedience, kid.” He said, kneeling next to the alchemist, the hazy blue eyes staring at him through the fog. “You are mine now.”

Varian’s eyes closed, world turning black. He didn’t hear Rapunzel crying out his name, begging the Saporians to let him go. He didn’t feel Kai pick him up, sling over his shoulder and take him away. He didn’t hear the cling of metal, as he was chained to the floor in the airship.

~~~~~~

“-an... -rian...” His hazy mind picked out, but he was too out-of-it to understand what was being said.

He felt so weak. His neck hurt, and so did the rest of his body. He just wanted to sleep.

“-rian...! Varian!” This time the words sounded clearer. Someone was calling him, voice concerned. “Varian, please. Open your eyes.”

Easier said than done, he thought, feeling as if his eyelids were made from stone. After several attempts he finally managed to pry them open, even if only slightly. His vision was blurred, but he spotted something distinctively familiar and purple just in front of himself.

“Eugene, he’s not waking up!” Someone called, voice trembling as if they were crying. Eugene... he knew that name... And purple meant...

“Rapu.....nzel...?” He managed to breathe out, voice hoarse and barely audible. The purple moved and something yellow and very bright appeared before his eyes.

“Oh my god! Varian!” It was truly her. She leaned down and he was pulled into a bear hug. “I thought we lost you! When they all started to...” She trailed off, not letting him go yet. “You were so pale, we could barely feel your pulse!”

“You gave us quite a scare, Goggles.” He heard a male voice. Eugene.

“Wha...? Where...?” Varian’s mind was still hazy, barely registering what Rapunzel was talking about. What has happened? Why was he so weak? Why did his neck hurt so much?

“The Saporians almost killed you, kid.” Eugene spoke up. Varian moved his head to the dark-blue blur which seemed to be the man. “They were all sucking up your blood like maniacs. Crazy, if you ask me.”

Varian tensed at the explanation. Usually it was only one of them that... drunk. And they gave him time to rest and his body to refill the lost blood. If they all tried drinking so shortly after the situation in jail...

He trembled and subconsciously reached out to grab Rapunzel’s dress. He almost died. He almost died. He almost-

“Varian, calm down.” Rapunzel called out. He didn’t even notice when he started hyperventilating. “Deep breaths. You are safe now. They are not going to hurt you anymore.”

He gripped her dress tighter, burrowing his face in her chest. Tears stained the purple material, dumping it. His whole frame shook, as he cried and hiccoughed, Rapunzel gently stroking his back.

You are safe. You are alright. You are not alone.

She spoke quietly, whispering into his ear as he trembled and weeped. And, this time, Varian believed her.