#tw forced relocation

[tellthemhowihopetheyshouted]

creds: jakeperalta

one thing about taylor swift is she will have you going "god these lyrics 😭🥺🙌😪" and "god these lyrics 😬🤨🫣" in the same song

[vivwritescrappythings]

words fall short

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5 - part 6

you can’t stop thinking about some rude words said about you at last night’s feast, but your knight doesn’t let you worry for long.

tw: plus size reader, fem reader, kissing!, negative self talk, body image issues

wc: 2.5k

masterlist

—

Winter’s chill had settled over the castle. Snow blanketed the courtyards and gardens, ice frosting the windows with flowers at the corners of the panes. The evenings stretched longer, fires became more comforting.

You found your days occupied with the other ladies in court, the social season in full swing as you attended parties and feasts and balls. It was hard to watch your father still hold out hope, each event had him sending middle-aged suitors your way. Each one was worse than the last, his desperation apparently growing.

König did not broach the subject of your dance, so neither did you. You chalked it up to the lack of sleep and your knight being far too kind. That was all it could be, a misunderstanding on his part of his duties. Maybe he did not like seeing you dejected.

Nothing more.

The day was slow and lazy, a thick layer of snow covering the land around the palace forced everyone to the comfort of their hearths. You were curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the large fireplace in the library, slippers kicked off onto the carpet and knees drawn up beneath your skirts as you read.

The library was your favorite part of your father’s decision to relocate you to the royal palace, you had never had access to so many books in your life. It was a lesser-traversed part of the castle, members of the King’s Counsel occasionally searching the shelves for some historical ledger that had been filed away. They hardly did more than green you politely.

If anything, König’s presence was what alerted them, his large stature looming near a column that stood a few paces away from your preferred armchair. Their gasps of surprise pulled you out of your reading, your eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones before your gaze cut to König’s conspiratorially.

He always met your smirk with a slow blink of his blue eyes beneath his shroud. You were starting to memorize the broad variety of his expressions, hanging onto every movement of his eyes and tilt of his head. It was easier to decipher what he was feeling—his eyes were shockingly expressive when you actually paid attention to them.

Any time he startled a lord he straightened up like a peacock ruffling its own feathers, squaring his shoulders and stacking his head at the top of his spine rather than his typical slouch. That was when you realized he enjoyed the way they paled at the sight of him, their stammered greetings to you.

You would not have been surprised to learn he was smiling beneath the shroud.

You thumbed through the book in your lap absently, chewing your lower lip as you stared at the flames crackling in the hearth. There were few interruptions that morning but you still found yourself distracted.

Words from last night’s feast still lingered in your mind.

At first it had been a normal evening. The great hall had been outfitted with long tables lined with candles and greenery from pines arranged into elegant centerpieces. The king was celebrating the birth of yet another son, so the food was plentiful and the drink flowed freely.

Even you had been allowed a cup of dark blackberry wine so sweet it nearly hurt your teeth.

It warmed you from head to toe, your smile coming easier and conversation tumbling from your lips before you could even consider your words. You had been seated with other ladies from the court, your father up on the dais with the king and the queen.

You were speaking with Mary across the table when you heard the first whisper of your name intermingled with the voices around you. It ran a chill down your spine like a fingernail sliding along your vertebrae.

It was impossible to place. Perhaps it was not your name at all, just a string of syllables that sounded enough like it to alert you. Slant rhymes had always been your favorite poetic device, why would you not encounter it in real life as well? Or at least it was easy enough to convince yourself of it the first time.

The sound of your name kept going off like a bell, the word said so softly each time that you continued to convince yourself it was something else entirely. Mary did not seem to notice, so you wrote it off as paranoia.

The first snippet of conversation reached you as the bards took their first break and guests stood to stretch their legs. It was quiet, just a scratch at the edge of your ear. “I heard that her sister married into the Garrick family, but her poor father is desperate to find a match for her.”

You looked up, jaw set as you scanned the people around you. None seemed to be looking your way. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been tossed over your head, soaking you to the bone.

“Well, she is rather strange compared to what I have heard of her sister, it is said that Ser Garrick married a great beauty.”

“Unfortunate that it does not run in the family.”

Strange.

Strange.

Strange.

It was all you could think about. You never found out who said it, part of you was glad that you never knew who labeled you as such.

You had tossed and turned the entire night, worrying over being thought strange. Strange. You were many things: brash, loud, difficult, stubborn… but strange? It hurt more than you had expected it to.

König had noticed your sour mood as he escorted you back to your chambers, badgering you to know what had happened. You did not have the heart to tell him. The fear of looking into the cool blue of his gaze and finding that he, too, believed you to be strange was too great. You did not think you could bear it.

So you let the word fester.

“My lady.” You jolted at the sound of König’s voice cutting through your thoughts. It took you a few moments to blink the blur out of your vision before you looked up at him over the back of the armchair, the emerald green fabric soft against your cheek.

“Yes?” you responded, sounding more exasperated than you intended. He took a few steps forward, the gray cloak affixed to his shoulders swishing against his armor with his movements.

Your tone must have made him reconsider before he shook his head slightly, the fabric of the black hood over his face settling into place once more. “It is obvious that something is on your mind, my lady,” he finally said, slouching to meet your gaze. “You have not even turned a page in several minutes.”

Heat of embarrassment blistered across your face before you could even think to deny König’s words. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that he should be paying more attention to your surroundings than your mannerisms.

Instead you took a breath, looking away from the knight back to the fire. “Do you think I am strange, König?” you asked. You allowed the cover of your book to fall shut, fingertips running over the fabric.

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side. You watched as he cast a long glance around the room before moving in front of you, kneeling on the plush rug with one knee as his forearms rested on the flat of his thigh.

Your eyes widened, you straightened a bit out of your contorted sitting position. The question begged a yes or no answer, not something… intimate.

“Why would you think that?” König asked, his accent making the words harsh. It was so sincere you already felt the sting of tears in your eyes.

You huffed, expression crumpling. The frescoes on the buttressed ceiling begged for your attention as you tried to find your words. “Last night… during the feast I overheard a conversation about my being strange and that being the reason my father has struggled to find me a match.”

It pained you to admit it. Repeating the words made it feel so much more real.

You took a deep breath, pressing on despite the tears building at your lash line. “So it begs the question, do you think I am strange?” You were brave enough to look at him again. “You are the only person I can ask. The other ladies in court would lie and my father would as well.”

König’s deep breath was audible, his body leaning toward you. His head tilted back, the two of you close enough that you could see the light of the fire on his blonde eyelashes.

“I think you are wonderful, my lady.”

His gloved hand took yours from where it rested on the cover of your book, fingertips smoothing over the ridges of your knuckles as he drew your hand toward his chest.

Your heart was in your throat, his compliment rendering you speechless. It would be easy for you to try to dismiss his words as a lie, brush them off as a kindness to you. But his eyes were sincere, rounded with gentleness as he looked up at you.

“Wonderful seems like an exaggeration,” you mumbled. You suddenly felt too aware of the extra flesh beneath your chin, the way your upper arm spread out as it pressed against your side.

König snorted, shaking his head.

You spoke before he could, gently trying to tug your hand back. He kept it in his hold. “They also wasted no time comparing me to the great beauty that is my sister.”

“Your sister?” König kept close, his hip pressed against the emerald green cushion of the armchair. “The woman with you at the tourney?”

You nodded, scraping your teeth over your lower lip without mercy. At that rate you would chew it until you were bleeding.

He shrugged, his breastplate now touching your thigh through your heavy skirts. “She was beautiful, yes, but no more so than you,” he said, the same sincerity in his tone. “It was you that caught my eye, my lady.”

“Truthfully?” you asked, voice trembling.

König’s free hand reached up, his palm finding the curve of your cheek. The leather of his glove was warm, broken in enough that it felt almost soft.

“I would not lie to you.” There was no room for you to question him.

You took a deep breath, your cheek pressed into his palm as you looked down at him. Your throat was closing, tears stinging behind your eyes as you struggled for something to say.

Then König surprised you.

He released your hand, pinching the bottom of the black hood over his face as he leaned even further into you. You watched the frayed edge of the fabric lift higher and higher, greedily awaiting the secrets beneath.

His skin was just as pale as you expected, gnarled scars marking his neck. The scar tissue was shiny and white in some areas, tinged pink with lingering irritation in others. You wondered if he sustained the wounds in battle along the eastern border, but you could not find your voice to ask.

Honey-blonde stubble scraped across jaw, the same color and the locks of hair you could see curling out from beneath the fabric of his hood. You would never have guessed his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders. If anything, you expected it to be cropped close to his scalp.

Two scars met on his chin, crossing into an X just below the curve of his lower lip. One went vertical, bisecting his pale pink mouth before jutting off to the right and disappearing beneath the black fabric of his hood.

“König,” you whispered, bewildered at what earned you the privilege of seeing his face, even just a part of it.

“Forgive me, my lady, my words simply continue to fall short.”

His palm slid against your cheek, fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he brought your lips to his. You braced a hand against his chest, the metal of his armor smooth beneath your touch. His heartbeat thrummed somewhere beneath all the layers.

It took you a moment to kiss him back, your eyelashes brushing against the bunched up fabric of his hood as you finally closed your eyes. Your mouth moved clumsily against his—the most you had ever kissed was the cook’s son behind the grainery when you were fourteen. It was a tender and nervous thing, far from the slow and sure press of König’s lips.

His fingers caressed the hinge of your jaw, tilting your head to match the slant of his. The scrape of his stubble against your face sent chills all the way to your toes. Your mouth parted on a soft sigh, letting him slot his scarred lower lip between them.

The feeling of his smile was so distracting that you almost pulled away just so you could finally see it.

There was a vague sense of danger curling up your spine as his tongue teased between your lips. You should have pushed him away, rebuked him for advancing on you and immediately searched for your father. Instead you were leaning so far toward him you would have toppled out of the arm chair if not for the spread of his shoulders and his forearm pressed against your collarbone.

“You must meet my daughter, I assure you she has a wit that catches most lords off guard.” It was your father’s voice drifting between the shelves of books that reminded you of the severity of the situation.

König was already pulling away, dropping his hood back into place as he gracefully brought himself to his feet. You removed your hands from him with reluctance, the only soothing balm the quick press of his lips against your hairline through the fabric.

You did not have enough time to marvel at his speed before your father and a lord you did not recognize rounded the last shelf into your little alcove. Your knight was already at his typical spot against the column, studying the newcomer for threats.

A fake smile plastered itself to your face, hiding the fact that you wanted to scream as you stood to curtsy. The man already was appraising you, watching you like you were a horse he was purchasing.

“Lord Fischer, meet my daughter,” he said cordially. The man was your father’s age, maybe older. But he smiled and greeted you politely.

You wanted to retreat into König’s embrace, pepper kisses along his scarred throat and coax his lips back to yours. Instead you sat down across from your father and Lord Fischer with your hands folded in your lap. The conversation was polite, nothing remarkable or interesting was said before your father proposed he joined you for supper that evening. It was the last thing you wanted, but nevertheless you stood and walked with your father and Lord Fischer to your father’s chambers.

As always, König dutifully followed.

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, forced captivity, isolation | masterlist

unedited | 669 words

I would like to suggest, high school boyfriend yandere.

He starts off as this loyal soft boyfriend that asks you out after class. Maybe you’re the one that asks him out even, he’s over the moon regardless when you start dating. He’s the type to never forget anything you tell him and look like a lost puppy every time you have to leave him to do something else.

Then he starts taking up more of your time, suddenly you aren’t free to hang out with your other friends. Can’t go out because you’ve got a date with him and you just hate how dejected he looks when you have to cancel at the last minute. Your friends stop asking you to join them after the tenth time this happens.

You’d get whiplash with some yanderes where one day you’re out and about and the next you’re suddenly kidnapped in his 14 room mansion in the middle of the woods. But not this one, he develops slowly, you’re his first and probably last lover. He’s still young and impressionable so a combination of his surroundings and probably traumas that have built up to this point lead him to spiral. Next thing you know you’re sharing an apartment and going to the same uni, maybe you’re studying different majors but his classes are scheduled at the same times as yours aside from a few minor ones that just couldn’t be changed. In the end all you’ll be left with is him. He’s just so nice to you, if anything you’re the one that should be afraid of him leaving you knowing how popular he is but seeing how he spends every moment outside of class with you gives you some solace.

Almost conditions you to be as possessive as him. He learnt all of your likes and dislikes, he doesn’t argue with you and always has a soft tone, you don’t have any friends to begin with but slowly you find yourself disliking other people's presence. They don’t treat you like he does, they could have ulterior motives or might be using you but you don’t have to worry about that with him, he’s not like that. You’ve heard of cheating stories in the past but he doesn’t have anything to hide, you’ve never given him reason to, he’ll go to any lengths to assure you of this.

The few times you do talk to other people they always fawn over how cute you two look together, even your family loves him. No one is surprised when you two get married.Maybe the only grievance you have with him is how he doesn’t let you work, assures you that he’ll make enough to provide for you, in just a few years he’ll make enough so that you don’t even have to look at the cost of something before buying it, just stay comfortably at home. But you don’t think of it much after you get pregnant, it's better to stay at home when you’re expecting.

But sometimes it just can’t be helped, no matter how perfect he is, sometimes you just fall out of love, crave to experience things outside of the rose tinted world he’s made for you. That’s when his cracks really start to show. He’s not used to seeing you like this, to going against him like that, you’ve always been so compliant that he started feeling complacent. This is when you see the side of him he’s hid so well, the one that suddenly decides to relocate far out in the countryside, the one that gives you no reason to leave the house. He just works from home now (he took this into consideration when choosing a major). If you need anything it can just be ordered online, but even that’s monitored, your own phone is nowhere to be seen.

You’ve never had anything other than him but back then it was your own choice, foolish as it may have been but now, he’s left you with no other option but him.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

welcome home

—you inherited a strange mansion you vaguely remembered visiting in childhood. you were excited to start a new life, but, now, from the way the lone statue perched on the roof seemed to be watching you, you weren’t so sure anymore.

—a/n: happy (belated) halloween! this had been requested forever ago, though not as a concept but as a smutty headcanon. but it had been stuck in my brain since seeing it—so...introducing the...gargoyle!

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied confinement / isolation, implied mind control(?), implied possible grooming (from the monster), implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, long post, uncut post, sfw.

—featured character(s): gargoyle, the unnamed uncle

“What happened to those two?” you wondered aloud, balancing the stack of boxes in your arms as you gestured with your chin towards the two headless statues perched atop the pillars of the front gate.

Your uncle cleared his throat, hesitating slightly at the sight of them through the tall, ornate window, “That’s a...good question,” he laughed, his voice trailing off.

You glanced up only to see the back of his grey head, your boxes successfully placed on the floor, eyebrows arched high. “Uncle?”

“...were...a week ago...” you caught the tail end of his murmur.

“Hey!” you erupted, jabbing the old man into his ribs with a playful poke. He responded with an amused chuckle, regaining his composure. With a quick complaint about the way he had ruffled your hair, you slapped his hand away with a suggestion, “probably got weathered from old age,”

You weren’t about to add more to his worries with the anxious face he’d had seconds before. He was already so old it just didn’t feel right to push for answers he probably didn’t have. Helping you to move into his old home had been so overly generous that you hadn’t felt comfortable pressing for more.

Still, as you resumed your unpacking, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the statues.

They...looked wrong, somehow.

Their necks were too...clean.

As if they had been sliced through with a sharp blade.

Had there ever been heads to begin with?

You shook your head as a faint memory resurfaced. The statues had definitely had heads once, from your visits as a child. So, where had they gone?

As you pondered, your hands became slick with water-thickened dust and soap as you wiped down the wooden furniture in the large living room while your uncle busied himself somewhere in the background. The bright glare of the afternoon sun forced your lashes to flutter together in a wince and you groaned, relocating yourself to a shaded corner as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

You blinked.

Something strange was perched outside the window, its wings casting long, dark shadows across the room from the setting sun behind it. You paused, a brief gasp, ever so slight that it might as well have been a breath, escaped your lips. Before you could think of anything to do, a deafening explosion of something shattering rang out from another room, and you spun toward where your uncle was, shouting the old man’s name.

You pivoted again, to see what you thought you saw.

The window was empty, glowing brilliantly with the blinding midday sunlight.

As if you’d only imagined whatever that creature was.

You stumbled out, confused and unsettled, to find your uncle with a troubled look on his face, assuring you that he hadn’t meant to scare you. As you attended to the accident, the strange sight remained in the back of your mind. Discomfort grew in your heart, and you wondered if it was normal to feel so familiar with what you thought you saw.

“You always had such fanciful imagination as a kid,” your uncle chuckled, rocking in his chair in the library you remembered frequenting as a kid. This was supposed to be his final night here with you, before he took the trip back to his assisted living home.

You cocked your head as you looked for a place to slot your favorite books in one of the many shelves. “Did I?”

Truth be told, your childhood memories were muddy at best.

“Oh, ho, yes, you always chatter on about an angel trapped in stone and the stories they’d share with you. Very...terrifying tales, may I add! Frighten my ol’ love, yer did. He never did like listening to these things, said you were listening to the devil.” Your uncle sighed, plucking a framed photo from a small table to reminisce about his deceased husband—

You...vaguely recalled how upset your other uncle was, though the reason still came blank.

“...Wasn’t he the reason I had to stop visiting?” You absently added, stilling your hands in your large tote of books to look at your uncle.

He tilted his head to think, “...Said it’s for your own good, or the devil would spirit you away.”

A question lingered heavily on your tongue and you blurted it out before your uncle could step into his vintage car.

“Why leave me this mansion if Uncle,” it felt strange to say your other uncle’s name after so long when you hardly remembered ever liking him as a kid. He was a mean man, but now, after what you’d learned, you started to wonder. Shaking your head to halt your straying thoughts, you pressed on, “was so against me staying here as a kid?”

You hadn’t meant the words to sound so demanding.

He stopped mid-hobble, looking up at you with his wrinkled hand still holding the suitcase, just before tossing it into his car. For a moment, your uncle opened his mouth, hesitated, then his eyes glazed over. Finally, with a small, uncertain smile, he admitted, “I’m...not sure. I just felt compelled to give this place to you, is all.”

Compelled?

Before you could dwell on that one strange choice of word, your uncle waved you over, “C’mere and give this silly old man a hug before he goes!”

He felt especially small and frail in your arms, as you held him. You remembered him so tall, but now he was just a tiny, old man with a heart too big for his tired body. As he slipped from your ebrace with a warm grin, you were disturbed by how cold his paper-like skin was under your palms.

Words and tears were exchanged, and that was it.

He bid you a farewell, adding a gentle ‘I love you’, and he was gone, his vehicle kicking up dust as it disappeared down the winding driveway. The sound of its sputtering engine gradually faded into the distance, leaving you in the utter silence of the mountain you now occupied. When it was no more than a speck in the dense, green horizon, you made a half turn—

And then you caught sight of something unfamiliar perched on a pillar of the hipped roof of your new—albeit ancient—home.

Blinking, you tilted your head high and squinted to make out the sudden appearance of a gargoyle.

Was...it always there?

It loomed above, a bulky, weighty thing, its great wings curled protectively over its hunched back, with its claws clutching at the gutter. A crown of horns fanned out over its elongated head, shielding itself from the rising sun in the shadows of its bony appendages. The creature’s hulking form sat in a perfect stillness, its long tail wrapped tightly around its hind legs in a stony coil.

As if it had been there all along.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t recall seeing the gargoyle above the main doorway before.

Even when you’d first arrived to meet your uncle about your surprise inheritance, nothing so stellar yet so grotesque had sat above the door before in your memory.

Yet it seemed so oddly familiar. The childish urge to grin and laugh as if upon seeing an old friend again, rose.

Deep in your heart, you knew this was wrong. A shiver ran down your spine, and confusion twisted your expression into one of fear.

You couldn’t see its face clearly beneath its wings, but you felt its eyes pierce your soul.

With another blink, you shuffled your feet, grinding your heels in the crunch of the fine gravel below. You inhaled the cold, crisp air—and you swore you saw it

breathe.

Unable to take it any longer, you fled inside, into the safety and isolation of your new home. The door slammed shut behind you, and you collapsed against the hardwood flood, gasping. The old wood needed a good waxing, but that was the farthest thing on your mind right then, as you panted and your heart was pounding against your ribcage.

“I’m being so stupid—this is silly...!” you muttered with a weak laugh, even as your erratic heart tried to jump out of your throat.

Before you could brush it off with the excuse of the jitters of being a new homeowner, a low creak groaned from above, echoing off  the roof outside.

You stiffened, your sweaty skin prickled with the chilling realization.You were all alone—

With this stranger outside your house.

A loud thud rumbled through the floor, vibrating the door you were leaning against—as though something heavy was dragging its claws across it.

Quietly, its voice, so deep and croaky, a disembodied whisper slipped through the thick wood, sighing with unsettling fondness: “...welcome home,”

The way it said your name had you trembling, but its next words gripped you with a terrible, numbing fear.

“...it’s only two of us now.”

—end

[the-californicationist]

Hello hello! I got super happy once i saw your requests open again <3 i love your writing and i would love to see Price and a reader who is too recluse and uptight, cold and distanced. He somehow noticed she likes him and stuff and it turns into what you write best, something hot and more. Basically Price shaking some sense into her, breaking her down? I don’t know if this is too much detail and I don’t know if it gives any ideas. Feel free to ignore. Love you, have a best day 🧡

Thanks so much for the ask! This is really unique, and I like the concept. I'll do my best! <3 <3

TW: female reader, afab, cunnilingus

Price scanned the meeting room as his teams filed in. The 141's operations had grown, now that Shepherd was out of the way, and new recruits with a lot of promise had come in to aid in the operations. Gaz, Ghost, and Soap sat up front, reports prepped and ready to be handed out, the logistics team sat around Alex and Farah, and sometimes, when she wasn't out doing the dirty work, Laswell would hang around the back corner, arms crossed, watching the meeting unfold. But, he was waiting for you.

You were the newest addition. Your specialty with data analysis and reporting had meant a stream of fresh, sparkling intel that was immediately actionable and nearly allowed him to predict the enemy's movements. You were a magician, and you never talked over anyone's head. Very professional, but kind. Beautiful, even though you were not a fresh-faced youth.

You also had a body that would not let him rest. He'd taken more cold showers in the past two weeks than he ever took as a teenager, and his cock was in his hand, hard and drooling, hungry to bury itself between your thick thighs.

He tried not to stare, really, he did. But, you would wear those cargo pants, belted to your waist, and he could see where your generous ass stretched the tight canvas. The way your hips swayed when you walked across the base with your data-tablet made him want to fight someone for you, even though, as far as he could tell, there was no competition in sight.

That was part of the problem. You kept everyone at arm's reach. Well, that was about to change.

Price started the meeting and tried not to keep glancing back to you in your seat. You were listening diligently, doing your job, and he felt downright lecherous at what he was about to do...

"...and so we'll be pairing off for a full facility inventory."

Groans resonated throughout the team. Complaints flooded in.

"Check the board for your partner and meet in Hanger 3. We'll start in the back storage."

"Back storage! Cap'n, unless you're lookin' for flip phones and manuals from 2007, there's nothin' we need in there," Soap protested.

"Well, Sergeant," Price grinned, "We're about to find out. Spring cleaning!"

He felt someone's presence behind him, and when he turned, he was delighted to find you there, shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be heard.

"Yes, Corporal? Do you need something? Going to whinge about the inventory as well?" He joked with you.

"N-no. No, sir. I just... I checked the board, and you are my partner, sir."

Your eyes were wide and bright. You were staring up at him and clutching that data-tablet to your chest like a shield.

He threw an arm around your shoulder and walked with you side-by-side,

"I'm just pullin' your leg, Corporal. Let's get to it."

As you worked together, the ever-observant John Price noticed a few things. First, you would stare at him when you thought he wasn't looking. Second, you would move to the opposite side of the room to work if he decided to relocate. And third, you had a bad habit of chewing on your bottom lip when you got nervous.

"You'd be no good at poker, Corporal," he commented, stacking a set of boxes near you.

"What, sir?" You looked up at him, biting that poor, innocent lip again.

"That bottom lip gives you away," you fixed it as soon as he said it, but he forced you to sit with him and asked you, "Hey, what's going on? You're doing a great job here, but I can't help but feel like you're not keen on being a part of this team."

You shook your head, sighing,

"No, sir. It's not that. I love this team... I just..."

"Just what, Corporal? We're not leaving this storage crate until you tell me. You have a crush on one of my soldiers, or what?"

Fear, now. He could see it all over your face. He reached out tentatively and put a hand on your knee,

"Hey," he dropped his voice to a dark whisper, "It's alright. I won't tell anyone."

Your voice was so small when you answered him, but gods you were brave for answering him,

"Sir... it's you who I shouldn't tell."

Price's breath caught in his chest. All this nervous energy, all this seriousness... for him? You were nervous to be around him?

"Corporal..." He was stunned.

You stood up, quick as a flash,

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forget I said anything."

You were backing away towards the door, looking like you were ready to bolt, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

"Me?" He stood above you, his body looming, covering you in the small storage room. It felt like it was getting smaller by the second.

You swallowed, nodding,

"Yes, sir..."

Price reached behind you and popped the metal lock into place, sealing you in,

"Mmm... Corporal, if you only knew how long I've been prayin' you'd say that to me."

"Wh-what? Really? Captain, I didn't --"

He put his thumb on your chin, pulling the skin so that your bottom lip would be freed from your teeth, and he bent to suck it into his mouth. He wasn't kissing you so much as he was working your full, lower lip, slowly and gently, taking it between his own lips and tongue, making you catch your breath.

"In here... I'm not your captain," he smiled, kissing you fully now, "And when I'm not your captain... you give the orders. We can stop, if you want to stop."

He let the news register, showing you how true it was, backing away a bit, giving you room to say no. Price watched your face as the information sank in. It was understood, analyzed, and filed appropriately in that beautiful brain of yours, and then, the results.

You set your tablet down on the boxes and took off your shirt. He still hadn't touched you, happy to let you drive. You pulled his face to yours, placing your hands on his furry cheeks, petting his hair and knocking off his hat until it hung around his neck on its string, almost letting him kiss you, but just before he could, you whispered into his open, gaping mouth,

"I don't wanna stop."

He kissed you, then. So softly it was almost chaste. He matched your energy. If you explored him with your tongue, he explored you just as far. If you spent time kissing his jaw and neck, so did he. After a few minutes of such restrained torture, though, he was breathing heavy, and his body was begging for more.

His hands rubbed across the tight muscles of your neck and down your arms before finally discovering your heavy breasts. He let them fill his warm palms, plucking softly at your nipples and making them harden beneath his fingers.

Price spoke to you as he kissed you, as he fondled you into pliant submission,

"Do you wanna stop, love?"

You shook your head, whispering back,

"I don't want to stop..."

He bent himself like the bough of a great tree, leaning to suck your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Price warmed it with his tongue, and put it between his teeth just enough to make you writhe. Then, he slid a huge hand between your legs and felt the heat you were hiding from him there. He sighed raggedly when he found it, like he had just dropped the weight of the world from his arms.

John pressed the canvas of your pants up into the spot where your folds would part, rubbing the seam against your center, making it shove your clit back and forth along its line, making it swell and tingle. You writhed beneath his teasing, moaning from it.

"Mmm. Do'ya wanna stop, love?"

"No, fuck, no. Don't stop."

He forced open your buckle with a swift pull, snapping the metal tines and popping open your button fly. Tucking his fist into the elastic of your panties, his fingers found their soft, wet prize.

The captain sighed again, that same ragged relief, and just before he opened his mouth to speak to you again, you clasped your hand over it furiously, and warned him,

"Don't you dare fucking stop."

He chuckled, but he said nothing as he sank to his knees, looping one of your legs over his shoulder as he began to eat from your body, hungry and thirsty and needy and ready to be full of you, smearing you all over his beard, smiling all the time.

If you liked this story, please consider buying a coffee for your favorite feral cat <3 Comments, reblogs, and kudos are also appreciated!

AO3 Link

[igetnosleep]

Rekindling

Sequel to "The Night we Met" another attempt at angst. mostly written in Leon's point of view set after RE: 4 remake in mind.

So some TW: Four pages of Leon picking you apart, Leon being needy (If you count that as a warning), thoughts of mutilation (Leon wants to get close to you but is unable to express himself properly), Anger, implied smut (I cannot write smut for the life of me), angst, some comfort but I take it from you.

Six years.

Six years since Leon had last seen you.

It felt so far away the memory of Raccoon City was ingrained into his mind like a brand.

Then they took you away had you relocated far away from him away from anyform of comfort. He wished he could have followed you at that moment and have you in his arms longer.

It felt like decades had passed since he saw you.

He wished he could pour everything out, rip his skin off and have the weight in his chest fall out bloody and ugly, but you couldn’t know that. He had to beg on his knees to make sure you didn’t end up like him. You wouldn’t have survived USSTRATCOM. He barely survived. You would have died.

Mission after mission, saving the president's daughter, the DSO decided to throw him a bone. Reward him for all of his hard work.

Now here he is finally, he gets to see you, standing in front of your apartment door. Not Sherry unfortunately, Simmons wouldn’t let him. “Make up your mind Golden boy, what's it gonna be? Think fast or I’m pulling my offer off the table.” He wanted to kill that man, jaw clenched as he accepted his superior's terms.

He steeled his nerves reaching up and knocking on your door staring hearing a dog barking and the sound of nails tapping against wood floors then scratching and more barking, you had a dog. “Coming!” your voice rang out as you unlocked the door and he was met with a determined pitbull sticking its nose past the door trying to get a feel on him.

You held onto its collar the large puppy with a powder face, sniffing excitedly as its tail whacked your leg. “Noooo don’t run off you’ll get me in trouble again.” You spoke gently, eyes trained on the pup. Slowly you looked up at him and your eyes widened in surprise, like you saw a ghost.

“Leon?” Your voice was confused and unsure. He gave you a small nod, his lip quirked up trying to give you some semblance of comfort. Your grip on your dog loosened giving it the chance to approach him, he offered his hand allowing for a sniff of approval and affectionate licks to his palm.

You had changed a bit, you looked skinnier, unfortunately, he missed the softness in your body even if it was brief how long he’d held you. You looked tired, you hadn’t been sleeping. Why did you look frail? 

You looked at him like you didn’t recognize him, your eyes searching for something, a remnant of him from when you met.  The same man who had left you alone now thinner, cheeks sunken and heavy eyebags and dark circles. Hesitantly you touched his cheek watching him tense before forcing himself still.

Those blue eyes you couldn’t get out of your head dulled and tired. The back of your hand gently smoothed over his cheek and he sighed shoulders drooping, a hint of vulnerability. Leons hand coming up and grabbing yours pressing your hand against his cheek as he took a breath.

He needs more, more than just you touching his cheek. Morbidly he wished he could sink under your skin and feel your warmth, would you mind? Would you mind if he did that? You wouldn’t would you? 

Sink his teeth into your skin and rip your throat out, maybe claw his way into your chest and make a home next to your beating heart.

Your life felt too inviting. Your warmth all too accessible, willing, open for something like him always longing for something.

Then again. There was that fear. Fear of getting too close too fast, seeming all too eager for something more. He’d come out bloody and red staring back at you scared and confused. 

Your voice cut him out of his head. He blinked and hummed a small beckon for you to repeat yourself “Do you want to come in?”

You led him inside pouring both a cup of tea, chamomile, “Helps the nerves..at least that's what the lady down the hall told me.” you spoke almost in a daze, still surprised to see him there. You pour some honey and lemon into both mugs.

Silence felt deafening between the two of you, his eyes trailing the interior of your apartment, the dog lying peacefully on the couch cushions, he never took you for a dog person, the way the carpets seem to overtake the living room, how warm it felt in the apartment despite the air being at the coldest temperature known to man.

“How have you been?” It feels like a stupid question to you, but he knows it’s all you could think of at the moment, you weren’t social you could barely keep eye contact. Were you trying to go back to the night when you looked at him trying to find the puppy you met all those years ago?

It almost felt nice that you were trying to find something to cling to like how he’d started trying to take note of how you lived every detail to how you dressed was something he wanted to write into memory. You were an open book he held the highlighters and pens writing annotations on your pages underlining and highlighting the details that caught his attention.

You could barely peer into him. Leon felt like a blank journal, the cover beautifully decorated yet when opened held nothing, no words or details to keep note of, how he preferred it now, it wasn’t your fault. He reminded you of the ones you collected but never got the chance to use, he seemed torn and frayed, being through too much to know pages torn out secrets hidden between lines and invisible ink. He felt more like the blacked out lines you’d see in a government document. At least in the movies you’d seen but at this point you were sure it was the same.

A part of him felt angry you didn’t immediately know, you couldn’t get a read on him, see what kind of person he was now without feeling like you were intruding. The man in your living room is more of a stranger if anything rather than someone you thought was a friend.

Could you classify what you had as a grounds for friendship?

You hardly knew let alone understood what happened yourself.

Leon barely tried to acknowledge it, finding himself torn between wanting to acknowledge and longing to forget what happened even if it meant forgetting you sometimes.

He almost wanted to scream at you, resentment at the life you were living now like he didn’t make the choice to protect you. 

He bit back a scowl. Glowering from his spot. “Fuck you.” his mind supplied it was terrifying how it felt like it was creeping into his veins, anger, resentment.

You looked small under his gaze, did you regret it? Did you regret meeting him? Were you starting to regret letting him into your home?

He took a deep breath, the aroma of honey and lemon mixed into his cup easing his nerves. He needs to calm down. He’ll scare you if he keeps going on like this. You hadn’t seen him in years. You didn’t even know what he’d done for you. “And you never will.” 

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. 

Leon knows better. He’s not his father. You’re not at fault.

“I’m..” he paused, debating telling the truth before shaking his head “I’ve been better.” you bit your tongue. Your cheeks flushed red as you rubbed your forehead. “Sorry..I just..You can’t talk about anything can you?” You were smart peeking into the cracks of his walls. He shook his head “No, sorry.” He looked down, somber hand coming up to rub his forehead. 

You sat in awkward silence, you weren’t used to the bitter tone on his tongue. You didn’t know what to say, what could you say? What could you do? His shoulders looked squared; he was guarded; rigid. 

His eyes narrowed and observed the area, what was he looking for? God fuck who knows something a hint that you had moved on that you were just fine without him. 

Resentment towards you festering in his mind despite him pushing it down but it clung to his gut unwilling to go away. Bitterness coated his tongue. You were scared one wrong move could break him and have him crumble like he was fragile. He wasn’t fucking fragile. “You have something on your mind?” He asked his finger tapping against the mug in his hands impatiently. 

You weren’t stupid, mostly just caught off guard by his behavior. Shifty eyes and rigid body language. Clear indication that he wanted to leave, to go back to wherever he called home.

“Sorry..I guess I’m still surprised to see you..” you apologized for your lack of words, it only proved to make him feel worse.

This meeting felt like a mistake. Everything about it felt wrong. 

Leon placed the mug down on the coffee table as he tapped his knee anxiously. “I should go.” Already getting up and moving towards your front door. You stared at him confused. He wasn't here for maybe a few minutes.

You didn’t want to leave it like this: a wordless exchange of nothing too much simmering under the surface too much needing to be said but fear and reluctance prevented them from being said.

“Leon.” Your voice was gentle trying to pull him away from his head “Are you..feeling up to a hug?” You asked, arms opening up in a curious invitation. 

For a moment he wanted to decline her out before he did something he would regret but he wanted to be selfish. He gave so much and let his superiors take so much of him it felt like there was nothing left to take. 

Just for a moment, let him have something.

Let him have this.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, hands moving over your back slithering down and locking you in place while your hands hesitantly rest on his waist. Your hands were shaking at the unexpected contact not understanding how quickly he would change his demeanor. 

Leon nuzzled your neck, his hands clutching your shirt for a moment. He felt like he was reliving a good memory. A piece of heaven he thought was locked away from him his hands felt bloody, unclean, clutching your shirt.

You smelled nice. The scent of the soap you used was intoxicating a deep breath and he was ingraining it into his memory, his hands roaming down to your sides then up your shirt, feeling you jolt in surprise “Leon?” You voice surprised but not pushing him away cheeks flushed warm, almost burning feeling lips against your neck.

You pulled away staring at him eyes wide “Push me away. Please say something.” he murmured, his forehead leaning against yours. Your breath mingled with his while his fingers dug into your back pulling you closer with each moment of silence.

Your mind was racing, the sudden change the way he stared at you.

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

You were certain you might blow a fuse or burn out with how he was staring at you. What could you do? Say no? He did say that but the words weren’t forming in your mouth. Your name was rough on his tongue “Please say something.” he whined his voice cracking his hand coming up to cup your cheek his lips brushing against yours as you managed break out of your thoughts staring back into those pretty eyes of his ones you knew you could get lost in staring into for a long time if he allowed it.

“Keep going.” You gently urged your hand going over his thumb brushing over the back of his hand. He could get used to that feeling. His eyes darted down nudging your nose as he murmured, asking gently “Can I?” a small pause and you nodded allowing him to continue.

His lips were chapped desperate over yours. Your hands on his cheeks as you moved your mouth clumsily against his. “Bedroom?” he asked clumsily, he felt like a rookie again, legs wobbly as he guided you to where you spent your nights and mornings wrapped up in nothing but peace.

Need and desperation were the two emotions he felt during that moment. Being able to hold you to bring you close to the feeling you wrapped around him, his nails digging and clawing into your skin begging to be let in to be a part of your life without the blood and the fear, without the constant mockery or over reliance of his skills.

The morning after it was like he’d slept for the first time in a while, a proper sleep, no restless tossing and turning, no screams and vivid nightmares that came for his throat. Just sleep.

Leon breathed for what felt like a long time. Searching for you before wrapping his arms around you pulling you close his hand smoothing over your chest, a familiar heartbeat, a rhythm that made him relax with a scary realization.

He didn’t want to leave.

He wanted the warmth of the mornings and the cold nights wrapped under your blankets wrapped in you.

You.

You.

Fuck how long had he needed you?

How long did he need to be away before realizing that this was heaven. 

The pearly gates that he knew he’d be rejected from, He realized he gladly fall if it meant staying with you.

His hands were stained in blood staining your skin with his filth. He needed to make his place here. He needed you. He wanted you.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

What was he doing? What was he thinking coming here? Back to you? Back to the memory he wanted to forget?

Leon buried his nose in the crook of your neck, screwing his eyes shut, reluctant feeling like a little kid after being told he had to go to school after summer break stamping his foot whining. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

He refused because he didn't want to leave. This was perfect. Everything about this was home. This was home. You were home. His nails dug into your skin drawing out a whine from you still asleep. This was only supposed to be a visit. He didn’t need to look at his phone to know he was expected back. 

Could he come back?

He wasn’t sure.

Leon stared at you, stirring in your sleep, blinking with bleary eyes staring back at him “You okay?” Your voice is still asleep but trying to stay up for him. “Yeah..go back to sleep sweetheart.” he kissed the crook of your neck while rubbing your arm lulling you back to a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up again, Leon was gone.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Am I allowed to request a Johnny Cage brother figure? Or Even a Kenshi one? Ofc I understand that you’ll only do one but no rush ~👻

Actually i have a good idea! I know this is more like a headcanons type thing, but it helps answer both of those!

Two's Company

Johnny Cage/Kenshi Takahashi x Siblings!Reader

TW/CW: None. Mentions of some violence, some petty sibling crap, Kenshi's history and injuries.

Kenshi Takahashi

• You were one of the reasons why Kenshi wanted from beneath the Yakuza's thumb. The day you were born, Kenshi vowed he would be the best big brother he possibly could to you, from the very second your tiny fingers first gripped his and you cooed at him, innocent of the evil you and he were born into thanks to generations of necessity to hide.

• Growing up, Kenshi would tell you stories, myths, and fables. But some of his favorites to tell you (and reenact under the safe watch of your mother) was the stories of the Taira clan.

• Kenshi always stood up for you. When you were bullied in school? Kenshi was there. The bullies always came up and apologized shortly after, sporting bruises, cuts, and the occasional missing tooth.

• Some asshole stood you up on a date? Kenshi would pay them a visit. He wouldn't kill them or injure them like he would have in his youth, but he would make it well known that they were no longer allowed to come near you.

• When one of the Yakuza would get too close to you, Kenshi was forced to act violently, much to the delight of his "overseers" as your mother would call them, always with disdain. It was one of the only times he genuinely enjoyed inflicting pain on someone, it was a way of striking against your oppressors.

• Kenshi has your name tattooed over his heart, or inside his wrist, so that way you were always with him, the bright light he refused to let be snuffed out by the Yakuza. The hope for the future of the Taira.

• When he told you of his plan to break the Taira free of their chains, you supported him, but you feared for your big brother's safety.

• You supported him when he told you he knew where he could find Sento, your family sword. It was in the hands of some big shot Hollywood has-been.

• You cried and hugged him goodbye, wishing him safe travels and good luck.

• Kenshi had pleaded with Liu Kang to let him tell you what his new arc in life would be, what he was doing with the Wu Shi, what he was training for.

• Liu Kang agreed, standing off a ways as Kenshi came home, arranging a meeting with you in one of the (few) Taira safehouses to give you the rundown.

• To say you were shocked, and skeptical was an understatement. Liu Kang grinned at you, the corners of his eyes creasing at the edges when you told him that if your brother got hurt--or died--he would be "very sorry" and that yes, your brother kept you largely out of the wrongdoings of the Yakuza, but you still knew how to fight.

• But when Kenshi returned from battle, blinded, with Sento strapped to his back? All you could do was hold onto each other as you cried, your mother sobbing as she held the two of you, her babies, her most precious gems.

• You helped arrange the split from the Yakuza, helping relocate somewhere safer to rebuild your clan, occasionally working with the Shirai Ryu when you needed to. After your clan's history, you needed to build bridges. And the leaders of the Shirai Ryu, Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada, were welcoming and warm to your family and clan. They earned your respect by fighting alongside your brother against some evil man named Shang Tsung.

• Kenshi fell to his knees in laughter when you slapped Liu Kang, for not keeping his promise that your brother would come to no harm.

Johnny Cage

• One Cage was bad enough, but two? Liu Kang didn't find out Johnny had a younger sibling until it was brought it to his attention. Right when you walked into Johnny's mansion. Gawking at him, Scorpion, Sub-Zero, and Kenshi Takahashi.

• You had even begun to try and wail on Scorpion (Hey! That guy and his friends were trying to beat up your big brother! What did they expect, you to just sit by and chill?) before Liu Kang stepped in and told you who they were...

• He knew Johnny had an older brother, but you? Yeah... He was certainly surprised when he found out. When he asked Geras why he never mentioned it, Geras merely smiled and said "You never asked, my friend."

• That attitude runs in the Cage (Carlton) genes, that's for sure.

• You were a hothead, always ready to punch first and ask questions later when your big brother needed you to.

• As kids, you and Johnny were thick as thieves. (Some would call you Dumb and Dumber, however, with the antics you got up to. Like the glitter bomb booby trap you'd put in your neighbor's mailbox)

• You guys were so close, when you were little, your parents would always find one of you not in your bed, but instead in your sibling's room, clinging to a stuffed animal and blanket as you two snuggled, snoring softly.

• Johnny had a typical big brother attitude when it came to certain things. When you had your first heartbreak? Johnny didn't have to even touch them, instead giving a verbal lashing so good the school talked about it for months.

• But when some girl had cheated on Johnny? Oh, you were downright diabolical. You had slipped Nair in her shampoo so when she came back from cheerleading practice, she'd be in for a nasty surprise. When she came running out of the shower, hair in clumps? You leaned against the lockers in the hall, a smug smirk on your face. "Geez... Looks like Karma got you good! Now stay away from my brother, bitch."

• You never knew why you didn't get in trouble, after that.

• When Johnny made it big, you made it to all his premieres, even if his parents didn't like his career choice. You were his biggest fan, and best critic.

• Johnny adored bringing you on set and listening to you give unabashed, unfiltered critique on his skills. It always made him laugh and stoked the fires of improvement.

• When he fell on hard times, you were there to lend an ear for him to vent, providing comfort when he confided that his marriage with Cris was falling apart.

• Johnny ignored his companions' complaints about keeping you in the dark, spilling everything to you about what was going on, and how he'd planned on using the stuff he saw to turn his career around.

• You hugged him tightly, clinging to his shirt as you bid your goodbyes.

• He sent you texts and selfies everyday, as well as lengthy--and I mean lengthy--paragraphs of the "crap" he was doing. It always brought a smile to your face when you'd hear a ping and saw it was from him.

• The moment he told you that he'd be going to another world? You were skeptical. Until he started sending you the pictures and videos. That Raiden guy shot lightning from some kinda plate thingy!

• You still had that one promoter friend who could help build hype from the recordings and pics he sent you, right? Of course you did.

• When Johnny came home, you hugged him. And punched him in the gut for making you worry and going radio silent for weeks. His friends, Kung Lao and Kenshi laughed.

• Johnny had even surprised you with one of the lead roles (which you turned down in favor of a lesser one).

• But it was when Johnny showed you some moves he learned from the Wu Shi, that you learned you both had the same power.

• And from somewhere in Earthrealm, Liu Kang felt a chill run up his spine.

[gracemain919]

(The Fungus universe)

Tw: Yandere, mind alteration

Summary: How a mold evolved.

Trial and Error

Back when fish ruled the sea and plants governed the land, down in the deepest depths where specific fungi thrived, there lived a peculiar fungus. Creatures passed by this strange parasite at every given moment, helping it reproduce, helping it spread. The thing every single fungus was intended to do.

But it was tiresome.

‘Attach to that fish, migrate in that fish, breed in that fish, then spread using that fish’s corpse’

No plant or fungi ever got tired of doing the very thing that kept them alive, but this specific fungus loathed such a process. Still, it couldn't stop.

Even when fish started uncovering the secrets of land, it just couldn't find a way to change. When it detached itself from the unsecured cycle, it never ended well.

Living inside creatures caused the animal itself to grow sick. Migrate in their stomach? No, they will vomit until they die. Relocate into their lungs? The creature will die even faster.

Everything on a time crunch forcing the fungus to continue. Migrate, reproduce and spread. Why couldn't its subjects just live? Then the wonder if it could live to see another would be less… scary.

Fear is the backbone of evolution, along with time. Survival is the result of it.

Only after eons of trial and error did this fungus discover a certain cozy part of an animal's body. Their brain. Treating it like a sacred piece of meat, this slithery parasite could live in creatures' heads without instantly killing them.

On the other hand… the brain is hard to understand. The fungus could understand how to live in it, but each living being it tried to live in ended up dying. Not by expected causes like sickness or organ failure. No, things like starvation, dehydration, and falling off the fricking cliff. These beings could always figure that something was in their heads and instinctively decide to lay still. Until they inevitably die.

This parasite finally found a solution, and mother nature decided to screw it over. Yet it couldn't give up. Following the same cycle only with a different change. No animal seemed to want to live with this thing in its skull, or the fungus itself caused them to not want to live either. Hard to know.

It had to witness the rise and fall of great animals and beasts as the same unfulfilled creature until something changed. The day they found an interesting rabbit. Poor thing caught in the fungi’s cage right at the start of mating season. Couldn't even find itself a lady before laying completely still on the ground almost instantly. Expected, geez.

The fungus was already planning on obeying the cycle it followed throughout the ages until it felt movement. Out of nowhere, the once dormant body shifted with haste a certain welcoming warmth taking over the body.

It didn't take long to discover what caused such a bizarre turn of events. The poor bunny was shaken awake by a very needy mate. This action single-handedly brings life into the bunny’s body. The fungus tried everything, in every single animal's brains, but procreation is the thing that fixes it?

Ok, ok… it could work with that.

The bunny did die. After the very clingy bunny finally left, it returned to its original state. Still, that specific moment sparked a new desire for trial and error. During a time when a specific ape thought they were done crawling on all fours.

The parasite was witness to how this animal grew. Of how it stopped picking at the lice in their hair and started hunting beasts that were twice their size. Such capacity and all this mold had was a writhing corpse on the ground.

It worked hard to even get a resemblance of what it once had with that bunny. Poked at every mush in the brain until it figured. Lust… a certain bundle of nerves lunged deep into the brain. They could make their host's body heat up, shake, etc. Force them to move in pure… need.

It worked on random animals until they would get so overwhelmed. So many mates or options, it wrecked their host’s already declining minds until they would snap ending their own pathetic lives. Damn it!

Ok, a mistake. It just had to try again, and again. Maybe if it- or?

The poor mold was stepping into zones of true unknown. Taking a step in a direction and seeing if it would drown or not. No matter what it did—it didn't ever go back—it just moved forward even if the solution was redundant, and a solution was indeed found. One mate.

If too many options is the problem then one shall suffice? Right?

Well, it kinda worked. A random fox chasing another fox like a desperate puppy kept the animal entertained and alive. Although, in the animal kingdom it was hard to stay alive. Humans promptly killing and taking their stolen place on top of the food chain really was screwing with its plans. They lived 5 times the lifespan of any of the creatures it controlled.

So, a few infected animals were consumed and now started another tedious trial. Humans…

God, so many emotions, so much to understandd. Yet, it will never stop learning.

It gives and takes and whatever buys it a second of time is kept forever. Remove the ability to procreate? More hosts survive that way for a bit longer. Why? Well…

It doesn't comprehend what it’s doing. Still, it's doing it. The love and lust humans show are so different, but they keep it alive. Maybe that is for the best. Whatever nonsense that it has to do shall be done in the name of time.

(Yes, I waste my time figuring this stuff out. Sue me. Also I would love to expand on this concept in later posts)

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

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

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.

[truths33k3r4]

Day 7- Forced Sedation (Comedic Version) - SIW

(TW for needles, sedation, tranquilizer dart, and mention of dislocation)

I think y'all know what scene I'm referencing here from Rise. ;) Don was just testing the potency of his new tranquilizer, nothing moreeee~ And hey! Look at that- his little thief of a brother was the perfect test subject!!

Day 7- Forced Sedation (Angst Version) - SIW

I imagine this is what it looked like when Leo needed to re-locate Mikey's ankle from his fall in chapter 1 of my story. (here) Mikey usually isn't one to really express his pain. (Like, genuine pain, not making a big fuss just to get the attention of his family.) So Leo and Don seeing their little brother crying from the sharp, twisting ache of his injured ankle truly shook them. After injecting him with something to calm him down and zone him out, Leo and Don called Raph in, (cause there was no way he would be in the same room as a needle, thank you.) and they carefully relocated it.

There were a few different artistic challenges I had for this prompt. The first being I made a FULL comic- the second being showcasing the character's moods by the colors/vibrancy of their speech bubbles, and the third being DRAWING A HAND USING A SYRINGE. DUDE- That was- HOLY CRAP THAT TOOK A LONG TIME-

Anyways, enjoy! :)

~ Melissa

~ TMNTember Prompts List ~

[animeyanderelover]

Greetings 😊 Could I request Hashirama,Tobirama,Madara,Itachi,Pein,Shisui,Sakura and Sasuke with a darling that can shrink themselves?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, paranoia, stalking, abduction, arranged marriage

Darling can shrink themselves

Madara Uchiha

🌑 Considering that Clans like the Nara, Akimichi and Yamanaka relocated into the Hidden Leaf Village after it's establishment, I can see darling also being part of a similar Clan. There's no major interest in any of those clans, Madara only cares about the fact that all those clans will make Konoha a very strong nation but I do see him being interested in the secret arts of all the clans. He can technically copy them, including the ability to shrink the own body if we're going to assume that it's not a kekkai genkai but a secret art passed down within the clan. The only reason he's refraining from it is because Hashirama tells him to not dig into the secret of those abilities since it will damage the relationship between the village and the clan. His darling would have to be special among their own clan to stand out to him, maybe they're just exceptionally talented and smart and get paired with him on missions a lot.

🌑 If Hashirama notices that his somewhat grumpy friend works well together with you, he'll definitely put you two constantly in the same team. Madara's not complaining though. You caught his interest, obviously he'll use every excuse to get to know you better. I do feel like he would feel somewhat weird during missions where you have to use your abilities and shrink yourself to the size where you can easily fit into the palm of his hand. The look he gives you the first few times where he witnesses it is priceless before he learns to mask his mild shock. Occasionally you make him mad on purpose and in such moments he threatens to squash you, you know that he's just kidding though. The Uchiha already have a good idea what's going on when he starts forcing you to spend time with him in the Uchiha compound, that doesn't make the following discussion with the eldest of the clan easier though, considering that Madara is stubborn. There's nothing holding him back from courting you although an arranged marriage will be held if you should refuse his advances.

Hashirama Senju

🌳 Considering the kind of man he is, I can totally see him trying to help literally every clan that settles into Konoha with the built of their compound, even if his brother reminds him that he has other things to do. For Hashirama it's important to take this time to strengthen the relationship between the clan and the fairly new village and connect with the people who will from now on call this place their home. So that's how you two meet when he pays the compound of your clan a visit to ask if everything so far has been working out and if there's anything he can help with. He's just walking up to you and begins talking with you as if he isn't the Hokage of this village. That makes it easier for you to talk with him though as you don't feel any pressure or stress like you'd feel normally if someone in a high position talks to you. So you engage him with your own quips and wits and before he knows it, he's spent far too much time talking with you. He couldn't help it though, you were just that great in talking. You don't think that it's weird that he visits often, you've heard from other clans that he does the same with them.

🌳 You think it's nice how much he cares and you often wait for him to visit again. The time you two talk together when he comes over gets longer and eventually you take strolls together through the village where he excitedly shows you everything that the villagers have worked on and that he plans to do in the future. Then begins the phrase where he suddenly starts giving you flowers and beautiful kimonos as his mind seems to only revolve around you. The times Tobirama has caught him grinning like a lovesick fool whilst sitting in his office is far too much to count on all hands and feet. It's so easy to realize what is going on with Hashirama and whilst his clan initially hesitates a bit, they at least figure that you have a special jutsu. When your clan receives the offer of an arranged marriage between you and Hashirama, they seem willing to accept it, knowing that it would greatly benefit their clan. You search for Hashirama in shock who wasn't aware of the schemes of his clan either although he did plan on asking them for your hand in marriage. Seeing you so devastated with the thought of marrying him breaks his heart though, do you really hate the idea that much?

Tobirama Senju

🌊 Tobirama isn't such an emotional fool like his brother is, he just wanted you and your clan in the village to have as many strong people in Konoha as possible to have an advantage over the other nations. The comfort of those clans so that they stay in the village is obviously also important to him so makes arrangements to ease any tension and doubts. The people from your clan are mostly used for spying and collecting informations as your hidden jutsu suits such tasks perfectly. Eventually you get choosen personally from him as a new member of his own team of trusted and skilled shinobi so you often tag along when he goes out on highly dangerous missions. It's a huge honor for you and your clan so you dedicate your everything into helping him to succeed every mission. As someone who is rewarded with his trust, you realize that beyond that grumpy and serious facade is a more caring and loyal man than some might think. Tobirama just doesn't seem to be fond to show such a side of himself often.

🌊 Everything goes well until Tobirama starts acting weird around you. His newfound obsession disturbs him and he tries his best to not let it have a bad influence on your teamwork as he tries to keep it professional. Yet his feelings are something he can't beat with logic and worst of all, he realizes that his change of attitude hurts you and it awakens guilt inside of him. You still try to not let it get too you during missions, something that only makes him admire you even more. You don't see him very often outside of missions anymore as you just assume that he needs time alone, in reality Tobirama is watching your every step very closely. Be that with the help of the Anbu or with his sensory abilities, you can never escape him like this. Not even if you shrink yourself as he can always track you down. He doesn't want anyone to find out, the shame would be too much to bear for him. I do see him as less opposed to suggest an arranged marriage between his darling and him since he knows that your clan would all too happily agree if it means having a better relationship with the Senju. Only if you refuse him of course and hurt his pride.

Pain

🌧️ You live in Amegakure and are the last one of your family alive, meaning that you're also the last one who knows about the secret art of your family. It seems like this jutsu will die down together with you, that is until two very mysterious people approach you and ask you if you'd be willing to work for their organization. You lack the courage to reject, your guts telling you that it would be a bad idea to refuse their request. You've heard about the rumors of the god and the angel of Amegakure and just sort of know that the people in front of you are those legends everyone keeps whispering about. You're less responsible for catching any Tailed Beasts though as you're only given few information about the goal, origin and purpose of the Akatsuki. Your only job is to infiltrate, to spy and to collect certain pieces of information before reporting back to Pain and Konan. You never dare to run away or betray them out of fear that they might kill you as both always seem to figure out your location, even if you shrink yourself.

🌧️ You find it strange when your missions decrease and you're instead often kept in the tower where you just sit around before helping those two with whatever you can do within the tower. Pain's Rinnegan never seems to leave your form, something that gives you shivers as his unwavering gaze on you creeps you out. It's especially terrifying if Konan isn't there and the thick silence engulfing you two threatens to stop your heart out of sheer nervousness. There are times where he tries to break the silence by chatting a bit with you but it only does little to soothe your nerves. You don't know what's going on inside his head and it's only on the day where he suddenly tells you that you won't leave this tower anymore that you finally get an idea of what's happening. A few of his other bodies stop you from leaving as you glance at Konan, pleading silently for help before you see that she looks away guiltily and you understand that she won't help you. You can try to escape by making yourself as tiny as possible but Pain will always find you. Hopefully you know that already.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂 Both you and Shisui are part of the Anbu and you've been part of his team since years now. The reason is the simple one that you two make a very good duo together and always get the job done, no matter how difficult or bloody the task at hand might be. You can rely on each other and often know what the other one is thinking by simply looking into each other's eyes. Even outside of missions you two spend a lot of time together, you know Itachi and Sasuke very well because Shisui has introduced you to both of them already. You merely see Shisui as a really good friend of yours though whilst Shisui's feelings have changed throughout the years. A simple crush which he never told you about because he knew that you didn't feel the same as he did have turned over time into a deep obsession he's unable to get rid off. It's only because of his amazing amount of restraint that he hasn't done anything yet. You're part of a well-known clan in Konoha and a famous Anbu after all, not to mention that he admires and respects you so much. He would like to avoid underhanded tactics when it comes to you.

🍂 Yet there's this brooding feeling inside his chest as his patience runs with time thin as he starts wondering why you've never considered him as a potential partner for you. He's seen you crushing on so many people before and can't help in some emotionally vulnerable moments why you would choose them over him, someone you've known for years now. Why not him? The only saving grace is that you never went out of your way to ask any of those people and Shisui is partially to blame for that. He has stalked people that caught your interest, has observed them and memorized their routine and their tiny ticks and everything that he can use to help you lose interest as he points out why you wouldn't like that person or why you wouldn't be permanently happy. Even if you try to hide that you have feelings for someone, Shisui always finds out as he knows more about you than you're aware of. For the time being he holds himself back as he stalks you, waits for any sign that you might hopefully return his feelings one day. He's waited so long for you after all, he won't give you up to anyone else.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡 The history between you two starts as you join the ranks of the Akatsuki and get paired with Itachi for a new mission as Pain deems your abilities to fit perfectly for retrieving important information and scrolls, looking on how you've perfected your jutsu to the point where you can even shrink objects around you. Itachi is picked because he has experience as an Anbu and knows how to be stealthy so he is supposed to help you infiltrate the village and steal the scrolls. To your luck he's very silent and not as intimidating as you expected someone from the Akatsuki to be. The mission goes to your luck well as both of you exceed in teamwork as something about Itachi manages to ease your jittery nerves. As you collect more experiences with other members, you soon realize that you work best together with Itachi and Pain notices that too and puts you two permanently together. You feel relieved about it and even Itachi seems weirdly peaceful about it as you're one of the few members he's met who doesn't kill people out of fun or is necessarily happy to murder.

🍡 There's some sort of innocence surrounding you and he soon realizes that you're only here in the first place because you didn't have a choice, looking on how you're the last one of your family who knows the secret art of shrinking yourself and things around you. Almost as if to preserve your innocence, he starts hurting and killing others just so that you don't have to as he has already no chance to make up for his sins. He protects you from doing something you can't bring yourself to do and you appreciate it. Both of you bond like this as your bubbly attitude around him in peaceful moments is a breath of fresh air for Itachi, the last ray of sunshine in the world he has resigned himself into. Love isn't something that he deserves nor did expect to find so imagine the sudden paranoia he feels whenever you go on missions, the fear that you might get hurt. He tries to rationalize his fears, tells himself that you got chosen for a reason yet all it'll take is one miscalculation from your part which will get you seriously hurt for Itachi's paranoia to blind him. You don't belong into this world, so he'll keep you away from it.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙 A trophy of Orochimaru is what you are now, he saved you from the brink of starvation when he found out about your secret art that only you know about now as all your other relatives have been killed in attempts to figure out the Hidden Jutsu. It's not like you want to be here but you know that the man would otherwise either kill you or use you as a lab rat so you choose the less gruesome outcome. By the time you join, Sasuke is already there and your intial hopes of befriending him so you feel less lonely are crushed when you figure out how much of an asshole he is, rude and only focused on his own training. He doesn't bother with anyone who can't help him gaining more power and so you're left completely on your own with little to no choice but work on your own jutsu. Orochimaru expects progress from you after all and it's only when Sasuke finds out about your abilities that he seems to be a tiny bit interested. To your demise, Orochimaru for some reason wants you to train with him together looking on how the both of you are of similar age. He seems convinced that you'll benefit from your training with Sasuke.

��� The training does pay off as you get significantly better in ninjutsu and taijutsu but it comes with the price of ruthless attacks, scars, wounds and many sleepless nights as Sasuke forces you through hell with the training. You don't know why he's all of a sudden that invested since he didn't want to spare you even a single glance before but now all he focuses on are his own strength and you. He forces you to tag along with him all the time, there's rarely a moment where you two are separated from each other and you can always feel his hardened eyes following you around, his grip on you tightening when something bothers him or he simply wants to warn you to not do something that will anger him. Sasuke himself is equally confused about the uprise of those foreign feelings as he wonders what it is about you that made him this way. Maybe it was your strength, maybe it was your surprisingly tenacious side at times. The only thing he does know is that you're close to his heart and that he will never allow you to leave his side for that reason.

Sakura Haruno

🌸You start training your medical abilities shortly after Sakura has been made the new apprentice of Tsunade and both of you end up spending a lot of time together for that reason. Sakura has known you before that too of course, you're from a clan in Konoha with the special ability to shrink yourself and even people and things you touch. That's about all she knows though so she decides to use the chance to get to know you better now, looking on how both of you train to learn medical jutsu. Sakura has an affinity for healing though which is why soon enough she is able to move on to the more challenging stuff whilst you're still struggling with the basics. You're not afraid to ask her for help though nor is she arrogant that she's better than you, instead both of you begin studying together. At one point you even show her your jutsu when she expresses her curiosity and in the end Sakura can only stare in amazement down before carefully letting you jump on her palm and lifting you up. That's when she starts wondering if it would be possible for you to use your jutsu to shrink the wounds of people which would be of great help. 

🌸 Both of you are at one point inseparable as you're constantly seen together. You study together, you train together, you take your meals together. Tsunade has pretty much made you her second apprentice because both of you stick together like glue but also because Sakura has told her about her idea how to use your secret art which the Hokage figures out might be possible. Honestly, people already wonder whether you two are a couple or not and Ino has teased Sakura about it already a couple of times, triggering a blush to bloom on her friend's cheeks. Sakura's behavior does not make any of this easier though as she essentially acts like she's your girlfriend. She's really affectionate, prepares questionable medicine for you if you're sick and even insists to nurse you back to health when you fall ill. She's delusional so obviously she doesn't shy away from her feelings as she doesn't view them as wrong, she's initially just a bit flustered with her growing crush.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Miguel x Desi!Reader - Wedding Edition

Request from @shadofireshinobi!!

This was really fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There's lots of good representation in there and if you've never been to a Desi wedding, you'll probably enjoy learning about it <3

Synopsis: Miguel gets invited to an Indian wedding by Pav and asks you, his neighbor and someone who doesn't really like him, to teach him how it works. The two of you end up going together and have a great time.

TW: None, just a lot of fluff <3

____________________________________________________________

"No."

"Aww, come on, don't be such a party-pooper. You'll have fun!"

Miguel squinted at his AI, an annoyed look plastered across his face. "I said no. I'm not going to a wedding, Lyla."

"You can't turn down an invitation from Pavitr! Come on, do you need me to ask him to give you the 'look' again?" Lyla asked teasingly, teleporting in front of Miguel and shoving her phone into his face, Pav's puppy-dog expression visible on the FaceTime call she had him on. "How can you say no to that face?"

"Ugh."

Miguel waved her out of his way with a grunt. "Come on uncle, I promise you'll never go to a grander wedding! These people are close friends of my auntie's and I'm telling you, they put so much effort into their parties" Pav explained, his voice emanating from the phone Lyla had refused to put down. "Its not a normal wedding. Its an Indian wedding. What would I even do there? No."

Miguel was trying to focus on the screen in front of him, tracing out the dimensional map for some new anomaly chase he'd been planning on assigning out. "Come on, I'll explain it all to you! Or even better...you could have Y/N do it" Pavitr said with a grin, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Miguel through the screen.

Miguel froze at the mention of your name, his expression softening slightly. "You invited my neighbor?" he asked Pav, an dumbstruck look on his face. "Yes. She's very nice and she told me she hasn't been to a function in a long time. Besides, Maya Auntie told me to invite all my friends." Pav responded with a sly shrug.

"Since when are the two of you friends?"

"Since I helped fix her rooftop that your battle with that anomaly ruined."

"So its settled then. Miguel, you're going, final say." Pav gave Lyla a high five through the screen.

"No-" Miguel began to argue back, but the two of them were completely convinced. He knew there would be no point in trying to turn it down at this point, as Pavitr and Lyla would most definitely succeed in forcing him to this wedding, no matter how much he objected.

You were a very out-spoken civilian who lived fairly close to the bounds of the Spider Society. Because of this, you were often affected by the fights that would happen in and out of the society, some of these leading to actual property damage. Even then, your spirts were high and you ended up getting to know a lot of the Spider-people that passed by, even becoming friends with some of them, including Pav.

As for Miguel, the two of you had a complicated relationship. Miguel tried to be nice to you but you barely tolerated him. After all, he'd built his society next to the home your family had lived in for decades. He'd actually asked you to move and even offered to relocate you but you and your family had refused. And thats when you decided that he was a jerk and that you'd try to steer away from him and his problems.

But apparently, he needed your help now.

_______________

"You want me to take you to the wedding?"

"I want you to teach me how the wedding works."

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as you stared at the tall man standing before the frame of your front door. "And why would I do that?"

He gave you a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his head. "Because I asked nicely?" You snorted. "That's a first." He sighed, "Look Y/N, I know I haven't always been the nicest to you, but I don't have a choice in this matter and I'd rather not be embarrassed at the wedding because I don't know what to do there."

You looked at him for a moment before groaning and muttered under you breath, "Fine." You opened the door all the way to let him inside, head hung in annoyance. He looked fairly uncomfortable too, shuffling in with his fingers fidgeting.

You gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table and you sat down in front of him, leaning back and folding your arms over your chest. "You want something to drink or...?" He shook his head, still looking a bit awkward.

"Alright. Well, before I start, what do you already know?"

"Uh...nothing."

"Nothing?" He shook his head no.

"Okay. From the beginning then."

You spent a good thirty minutes explaining the intricate details of how Hindu weddings work to him, starting with the fact that they last anywhere from 3-5 days ("I'M GOING TO BE THERE FOR FIVE DAYS?" "No, only for a couple hours each day.") and the significance of each event. Then, you moved onto the attire, and even showed him pictures of all the things the guests would wear. Women would wear colorful saris while men would wear suits or kurtas.

"Please tell me you at least have a kurta."

"What's a kurta?"

You groaned. "I'll have Pavi drop one off for you." he nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm as he continued to listen to you speak. You told him about the food, and how it would be vegetarian on puja days but would probably have non-vegetarian options later on. ("You can't drink blood there by the way." "I don't drink blood!")

"Now, because you're not a close friend of the bride or groom, I'm guessing you'll only be attending on the third day. That's when the main ceremony is."

"What happens in the main ceremony?"

"The actual wedding. The other days are mainly just prayer days and for mingling between the families. But remember, its not like a western ceremony where we'll all sit down while the bride gets married. It'll be very Bollywood style."

"Bollywood?" He asked, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Oh my god, I have to show you before we go!" To his surprise, you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the couch, sitting him down before you began to search for the remote. He grabbed it off the coffee table and handed it to you with a smile, a bit taken aback by your excitement. "We?" he asked, sounding a little hopeful. "Were you planning on going with someone else?"

"No, no, it's just-"

"Besides, if I bring a date I won't have to worry about all those aunties trying to get their sons married to me." You said, shaking your head slightly as you turned on the TV. He stayed silent for a moment, trying to suppress the smile from forming on his face. "So I'm your date?"

"ah, here we go" you said, putting on K3G, one of your favorite Hindi movies. As the movie played, you pointed out the actors to him going "That's Shah Rukh Khan! That's Hritik Roshan!" despite him obviously not knowing who any of those people were. He just nodded along, watching you more than he watched the movie.

____________

The day of the wedding, you were in a rush getting ready, pulling on your sari hurriedly and fixing your makeup. You were wearing a dark green sari, with heavy jewelry that took ages to put on. Your earrings were also a dark green, matching with your outfit and making your skin and hair stand out beautifully. After you finished, all you had to do was wait for Miguel to show up.

The day you'd spent with him had been really nice. In fact, you found yourself liking him a lot more than you expected, considering how much you despised him at first. You were honestly really glad that he'd asked for your help, because otherwise you'd have never got to have so much fun rewatching your favorite Bollywood movie with him.

The doorbell rang and you rushed to open it, being greeted by Miguel standing in the doorway, wearing a sleek black kurta, courtesy of Pav. He stood there awkwardly, a slight smile on his face as he looked you over. "You look nice." he said quietly, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. "You do too." you felt yourself growing silent as you stared at him. He looked better than you'd expected. This man was full of surprises.

You cleared your throat and beckoned for him to come in. After filling him in on the details, and even giving him some bangles of your own to wear, the two of you were off to Pav's dimension. The moment you entered, it was like a blow to the face. The sounds, the sights, the smells, they were all almost overpowering.

The two of you head to the wedding venue, both fairly silent. "So...you ready?" You asked him, looking up to see his slightly nervous expression. He tugged at the collar of his kurta. "Yeah. I just feel a little...out of place."

"Don't. There's going to be plenty of other non-Indians there. Hobie and Gwen are coming too." You said, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Besides, you have me."

After entering the venue, the two of you greeted Pav who was there with Gayatri, being all smiles as usual. He pointed the two of you in the direction of the rest of the crowd where you introduced yourself to some of the aunties while Miguel followed like a lost puppy. He was noticeably taller than most of the people there, so it was a lot easier for you to find him than for him to find you.

As you greeted more and more people you found yourself slipping behind the scene, helping out with moving things and passing out food and party favors. Then, because Miguel was glued to you, he joined in as well.

You couldn't help but laugh to yourself as you watched all the aunties swooning over him. He seemed like the perfect gentleman in his traditional attire and with his helping hands on. It was sweet. "It's Miguel, right? Who are you here with? Your wife?" One of the aunties asked him, inspecting his kurta. "Uh, no, I'm here with a...friend." He said quickly, seeming a bit nervous. He noticed you looking at him and flashed you a quick smile before continuing to put things away with a little horde of women following him.

After at least an hour of helping out, you felt your feet starting to cramp, and decided to do a shoe change. After changing out of your heels into more comfortable sandals, you realized your jhanjharas didn't match anymore. So of course, you gave them to Miguel. "Can you hold these for me?"

He looked at you for a moment before taking them out of your hand. "What are they?" He asked, inspecting them carefully. "They're like anklets" you replied, already hearing someone calling your name to come help out again. "hmm." he responded, continuing to turn them around in his hands, dark gaze focused on the little gems and jewels decorating the thin material.

When he came to join you, you realized he wasn't holding them anymore. You opened your mouth to ask where he'd put them but then you saw, he'd put them around his wrists. You felt a blush forming on your face at the view. They looked so small around his wrists. You shook it out of your mind and continued what you were doing.

Eventually, as the event progressed, the actual wedding started. To entertain the guests, the bride and groom began their performative dance, a classic form of entertainment that most Desi weddings have. Miguel was standing next to you, arms awkwardly folded across his chest as he watched them perform, his eyes on you the entire time. "What?" you asked, returning his eye contact with a slight smile. "Nothing. I just...wasn't expecting a dance."

You laughed softly at this and continued to enjoy the performance as more of the guests joined in, the previously choreographed number turning into a mess of random people joining in and swaying to the music. Although a bit crowded, it was a lot of fun. You could see Pav and Gayatri dancing together and even caught a glimpse of Hobie messing around with some random Desi girl. Miguel seemed to notice this too and kept glancing at you until he finally mustered up the courage to ask, "So...would you like to join in?"

You looked at him, slightly surprised. "You want to dance?" You asked, giving him a sly grin. He shrugged quickly, looking away. "Well, everyone else is doing it. Besides, you look like you wanted to join anyways." he said quietly, trying to hide the small smile forming on his face.

With a teasing eye roll, you stretched out your hand towards him which he promptly took, and the two of you melted into the crowd. He was shuffling along at first, his height making it difficult for him to blend in with the rest as well as you did, but eventually he grew more comfortable and took your hands, swaying with you to the music.

You were focusing more on the bride and groom than on him, and you barely noticed when your bangles caught on the edge of his kurta's cuffs. He laughed quietly at your embarrassed expression as you tried to pull it away. "Here, let me" He said, gently taking your hand in his and removing the bangle. While you watched, he removed the fabric from the bracelet before sliding it back onto your wrist, eyes looking directly into yours.

Even after he'd placed it on, the two of you kept your eyes on each other, unwavering until he chuckled softly and looked away. "I wasn't expecting us to get to know each other so well" He said, looking at you slyly. "Me neither" you caught your breath, clearing your throat before stepping back slightly, but he held onto your wrist. "Hey, we're not done dancing yet, are we?" he asked as he pulled you closer again, fingers intertwining with yours.

"Its a good thing you were willing to come with me. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't be having this much fun" he said quietly as he timidly placed his hands onto your waist, your arms going around his neck. While the rest of the crowd danced wildly to the fast-paced music, the two of you took it slow, eye contact seeming more intense than usual. "I'm glad I took you as my date." You said with a smile.

"Anytime." he gave you a lopsided grin, shyness slowly melting away as he held you.

"Anytime?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head up at him slightly.

"Anytime."

Taglist

@therealloopylupin2099 @daydreaming-en-pointe @vileviale @s6onder @puff-hugs

[saturnwisteria]

"My Heart Is Inflamed With Burning Anguish"

(Yasutaro Soga)

For the HBO Rewatch Prompt Family, I introduce Bianca Umezaki. This excerpt of what will undoubtedly be a longer piece references Executive Order 9066, wherein all persons of Japanese ancestry living in the western parts of California, Oregon, and Washington, as well as some parts of Arizona, were forcibly relocated from their homes and incarcerated farther inland in various concentration camps. TW for period-typical racism and language, including the J-slur.

---

It's not the first time she's heard it, and it certainly won't be the last. Always the same vitriolic disgust clinging around the single syllable, the ending plosive ringing in her ears.

"What the fuck's a Jap doing here?"

Bianca knows better than to respond. She's always been level-headed, knows how to reel in her emotions before they get the better of her. Unlike her fellow pilot, who's head whipped to the offender, eyes narrowing on her target. Rory is always ready to jump into fights that aren't hers by right--this is Bianca's problem to deal with, it's her neverending fight--and one day it's going to bite her back. Bianca places a firm hand on Rory's arm, ever the cool water to her raging fire.

She tells the sneering man the same thing she always does: "I'm an American."

It makes her want to scream. This churning mess of pride and fear and forced shame is one she knows intimately; she's lived with it since she was a child, running rampant through the streets of Oakland, California with her brother, Bill. She'd lived in a bubble then, surrounded by other Japanese Americans in what they lovingly called Lil' Yokohama.

She had lived on a little corner, sitting slanted midway up a steep hill. At the very top of which, if she stood between the buildings just right, she could see the Pacific Ocean. Her family owned a little grocery store on that corner, living in the apartment above. She loved how the evening light would slant through the windows, setting the crates of vegetables and fruits aglow. How her father would give her a boost up onto the sales counter when she was still too short to peer over it.

Her soft-hearted father, who wore his heart on his sleeve; the heart that was made of overripe fruit, and that only ever got bruised for his troubles. She'd lived in a bubble of Issei and fellow Nisei, hardly ever seeing a white person until she went off to college. Yet Bianca had still come face to face with prejudice in that little corner store.

Bianca had always wondered if people would have taken issue with her father if he'd just been a Black man; if the part they couldn't sit with had been that he was a Black man married to a Japanese woman.

Not everyone in Lil' Yokohama had minded. Plenty of their neighbors loved her father, and who wouldn't? He was shy and soft-spoken, but if you got him on the topic of whatever book he was reading this week, he could ramble for ages. He loved poetry and baseball, and languages. When he'd tuck Bianca into bed at night, one of her favorite stories was how he had met her mother.

I was walkin' down the quay when I heard the voice of an angel. She was laughin' with her girlfriends, it was pure music, Bebe. I didn't understand a lick o' what they was sayin' but I knew I wanted to listen for the rest o'  my life.

He'd immersed himself into her mother's culture, learning her language, her traditions. And she had fallen for his determination to know her in her entirety. They shared pieces of each other in the salty air of the harbor, where she would ask him things about America that she'd been too nervous to ever voice before. She'd teach him basic bits of Japanese, and he'd help her learn how to read in English.

He had taken her mother's last name when they eloped.

Bianca's heart aches at the memories, but none of it makes a difference anymore. Both her father and that little corner store of her childhood are gone.

Bianca had been in her last year of college when it happened, right before the end of the semester. Pearl Harbor had sent shockwaves through the whole country, but it seemed only the people like her were dealing with the aftershocks. Friends looked at her with pity, with distrust, with suspicion. Most people side eyed her as if she was hiding something, as if she'd pounce on them at any second. Even professors wouldn't look her in the eye. It cut her to the quick, and she had prayed that this war would pass quickly.

Her naivety then made her laugh bitterly in remembrance, just a few months later. She still recalls the deep pit of dread that had opened up in her stomach when she'd read the order, posted on the walls of the lecture halls at Berkeley: "Instructions to all Persons of Japanese Ancestry..."

She had rushed to find a phone, dialed home and didn't breathe until she heard Bill's voice trickle through. Both she and Bill, as first generation Americans of a Japanese mother, were Nisei. But Bill was also a Kibei--a Nisei who had gotten a college education back in Japan before returning to America.

"I'm guessing you've seen the order?" He drawled through the phone.

"Yes, yes," her mind was still reeling, thoughts all out of order, "Can they really do this? Just-just move us somewhere else? Why?"

"Bebe, you know why. They think we're going to sabotage this war somehow. I'm pretty sure they think the Issei are going to pledge their undying loyalty to the Emperor and rampage or some shit," Bill sighs over the phone. He's the eldest, her big brother by a gap of four years.

"Does mom know?" Bianca chews her lip. Their mother was Issei, part of the class of Japan-born immigrants who had chosen to move to America. Some had gained citizenship, but some still held the status of resident alien.

"Yeah, she heard it from the Iriki sisters. She's figuring out what we can take right now. Listen," there's shuffling, and Bill must be taking the cord and hiding in the pantry, like he used to do when he was a teenager calling girls up late at night. Whenever she caught him, he would sneak her a cookie as a bribe to keep quiet. "I know things must be rough for you at Berkeley right now. But don't come home yet. Finish your degree first. You're too smart to drop everything at the last minute. They are letting you finish your exams, right?" Bianca hums in affirmation. "Good. Mom's worried about you, but I've been telling her you can take care of yourself. She's scared if you don't come back right now they'll keep us apart, but I've been talking with Toshi Mora and John Okada--you remember those guys?--and they say we should be kept together as long as I register us for evacuation. So please, take care of yourself. I'll let you know what happens as soon as I can."

"How can you be so calm about this? We're being asked to cooperate with the violation of our fundamental rights!" She was seething, hands gripping the receiver tight enough it creaked under her hand. On the other end, Bill sighed deeply, tinged with exhaustion. She could imagine him rubbing his thumb between his brows, same as he did when she would protest something as a young teenager, replying that there were things she just didn't understand yet.

"Bebe, I'm not okay with this anymore than you are. They're doing this because they believe we're disloyal because of our blood. If we don't go along with this, they'll just see it as a confirmation that we are disloyal to this country."

Bianca's heart had sunk in her chest, and then grown cold. Sometimes she's not sure it'll ever warm up again.

Standing in the middle of this shitty Officer's Club in Nebraska, eyes all around the room pretending not to eavesdrop on this exchange, she feels more tired than ever.

I'm an American. Maybe someday she'll actually be treated like one.

The lieutenant opens his mouth again, a leering smirk twisting his face. "You know what they say. A Jap's a Ja-"

He doesn't get to finish before Rory's fist connects with his face. She's half his height, but he stumbles back from the blow, hand coming up to touch his mouth, the blood welling up where her fist split his lip open.

"Don't talk to my copilot like that," is all she says, turning on her heel to walk over to the bar and order a drink.

She remembers how she had tried hard not to feel humiliated as she left her last exam with a suitcase in hand and made her way down to the buses. The diverse array of faces around her had made the whole thing seem surreal. Some were long and empty; some smiling while chatting with friends, eating the free food the Church had provided; some were bored or nodding off, as though their entire lives weren't being uprooted. But then, what was there to do about it?

She feels that same surrealness settle over her now. The band picks back up, filling in the shocked hush that had descended on the room, and just like that everyone turns away again. The lieutenant's friends come to lead him away, muttering about that rabid bitch.

There are some days where she regrets volunteering when the opportunity came around. Why fight for a country that can so easily strip citizens of the certain inalienable rights they're endowed with? It's hard not to feel helpless, and easy to feel alone. But then there are the days where someone steps up and shoulders part of the burden.

Bianca feels a little spark ignite, smoldering ash reawakening in the tundra of her heart. She follows Rory over to the bar, and takes a seat.

[spotaus]

Woah!!! Ec-4o.Verse reference?? Bringing you Geno! (With a bunch of notes that are intelligible off to the sides-)

Cropped versions for easier reading/zooming! But to be more fun about it, here's a Lore Recap for each design! (I'd say these designs are from... hmm, a hundred years or so? He's a Boss Monster so he lives a lot longer.)

(Tw: Mentions of Death, Self-Loathing, Mental Illness, and I feel a few other things)

Pre-War:

Geno was a normal guy, had a dayjob, but was beloved by his friends for being a Programmer. He was lazy, had awful work ethic, but would pump out amazing quality work for cheap as long as he was given the time to do things at his own pace. He has a passion for Psychology, but was awful socially, so he designed programs that mimicked mental illnesses in Test Ectos (ectos not embedded with personalities or magic) so people could research mental health without risking patient wellness. He made A.Z. too, the first real mimicry of mental illnesses in children. Geno got attached and kept A.Z. himself, the last prototype of the code. The finalized ones can be found anywhere, but he kept A.Z. around, and even though A.Z. wasn't sentient it was such a good mimicry, Geno practically treated him like a son.

Geno was known for his work, and was contacted by the government of his country to come and work on a big nation-wide upgrade they were planning to improve ecto functionality. Again and again Geno simply ignored their letters, emails, chats, and attempts to call. It wasn't his field of study, so he could care less. So, all that led to the government sending people to confiscate A.Z. from Geno and shut down his workshop under the pretenses of 'unethical programming methods'. He was forced to relocate, and A.Z. was basically held as blackmail to force Geno into working. (Since A.Z. wasn't sentient, he was simply property, and therefore there was no legal issues with the government taking him.)

Before/During the War:

In this time, Geno was among hundreds of other talented people from all across the country who were 'recruited' to work on this project. People who didn't comply with orders went missing, loved ones were "lost" and life projects destroyed. Geno was part of the Programming team (there were also Medical, Bio-Enhineering, and Engineering teams) and he was initially supposed to just shut off the programs within an Ecto that gave them emotion protocols, even the ones infused with magic.

But, as things went on, he was told to do more and more. He was involved in more marketing and branding and announcements. He was made to be on screen, be the face of the change. His background was good for publicity (man who studied ways to harmlessly study mental health) and he was supposedly trustworthy. By day he'd stand up beside someone and listen to them implore people to bring their ectos in for this quality of life upgrade to their nearest government office. By night he'd be slaving away infront of code, being forced to find a way to make these robots kill people. Just enough people. To nullify themselves when it was all over. I'm his despair he tried to make it so that their emotion drives would at least register these events as something positive, so they felt no distress if they were sentient. He tried so hard to stop but any backlash did nothing. So he kept his head down and worked quietly.

And then he was transferred locations. Somewhere closer to the heart of the operation. He met Sci, a man unaware of the Culling Orders or the heartache, because they government had been treating him well. He was a bio-engineer, and his project (nicknamed Fresh) was like if a self-healing code was a living thing and could slow, or even heal, wounds. The government wanted it, in the case that it could unlock immortality. Sci was getting funding and a cushy life. Geno realized Fresh was the best way he coukd possibly end all of this war that was in the works. For good.

So he poured hid heart and soul into finishing that code. "A change of heart prompted by wanting so desperately for his prized project, AZ, to be saved" He claimed. There were a few useful bots that filled through the office. He offered to install code that would prevent the Culling Order from activating inside them since they were going to be preserved. While adding code he added failsafes and kill codes and important information from his and others work he wanted saved. He added the names of every researcher he knew had been drafted into this unwillingly. He did it in secret, so entrenched in code only another programmer would notice.

And then the war started, and Sci learned the truth, and people started dying. Geno had to convince Sci to help him after that. Sci feared being killed. He feared not being able to finish his work. He feared not being protected from the pain and destruction outside. It was a long plenty of *years* that Geno had to configure just the right plan, just the right way to ensure that Sci abd Fresh would survive it. That the rest of the base would be no threat and that it'd stop the Ectos and the Culling Code.

And then he did it. He put an end to the war, at the price of all the power on the continent running to every piece of tech, and at the price of his own arm and eye.

Post-War:

Geno was disfigured. He knew that to make an EMP large enough to cut off all electricity, he would need to overload his own master consol to the point of battery meltdown. An explosion. He didn't tell Sci. Only mentioned he'd need Fresh on-hand. So when it exploded, his left arm (non-dominent just like he planned), his chest, and the right side of his skull (his left eye was better) were demolished in the blast and dusted near instantly. Sci and Fresh managed to save his life, and Sci, resident Bio-Engineer, was able to replace his missing limbs and his wounds with spare ecto parts over the course of a few weeks.

Geno was slow to recover, nearly on the verge of falling down during recovery (He didn't know where they'd stored A.Z. if he was even still in-tact, he had been the reason so many humans and monsters had died, and now to reverse his mistake he'd taken out the electricity the country had been relying on for the past thousands of years.) But he pushed through. He was Determined. He needed to get to the four robots he embedded information and failsafes into. But they were scattered across the country for aafe-keeping. Incase he'd failed. So he has to hunt them down.

As soon as he can he leaves. Sci stays. Geno promises he'll come back (he doesn't). Geno takes a medical uniform, packs the supply belt with programming tools, and moves out. He enters the main story while on this trek to hunt down his Ectos. Not a single one is where they should've been, and he can't help but be furious, praying to a non-existant God that they weren't scrapped by heathens out for parts or destroyed in a rage by scared survivors.

Looking for the four? One day their trackers finally Light up again. One by one. All in the same location. And Geno follows it like a moth to the flame.

[karatekels]

Valek TIG. Reader is Jack’s daughter (18+). The church put the cross at a church at a catholic boarding school for slayer’s children in training to be future slayers, trying to keep everything that needed guarding together. But in reality Valek is able to get the cross and a definite reason to keep Jack engaged in the fight. What would be better than turning Jack’s only family against him. Enemies to lovers.

I'm SO excited to finally get to this one! I hope that it's worth the wait - I'm anticipating it to be 4 chapters in total, and this is definitely going to be the shortest one.

TW: Indoctrination by the Catholic Church, implied death, blood (very minor... for now)

---

Heirloom - Chapter 1

---

Deep in the centre of Tuscany sits the medieval town of Monteriggioni, perched on a hill and surrounded by high stone walls. A centuries-old fortress, it has long been a place of protection for its allies, and can become fully self-sufficient during times of trouble.

It has been operating as a self-sufficient town for decades now, its gardens plentiful.

While official records claim a population of ten thousand, the number of people living in this little city fluctuates like the ebb and flow of a powerful tide.

The comings and goings of its occupants are a well-kept secret, known only to those who are allowed access to the city in the first place.

Within the walls of Monteriggioni, the next generations of Slayers receive their training.

To the public, this education is given a generic name of importance, one that oozes prestige but does not invite questions: The International School of Siena.

To anyone that looked over the curtain wall of the battlements, they would observe a quiet town with more than its fair share of churches, a large fortress at its centre. In practice, each church was a classroom, the fortress a dormitory to thousands of children and young adults, all slayers-in-training.

Some were orphans taken under the protection of the Catholic Church, others were the children of slayers, descendants of the Crusaders.

All were soldiers. Or at least, they would be before they were allowed beyond the city’s walls.

Those responsible for the Scholars of Monteriggioni (as they were known) held various roles: providers, priests, parents. But above all, they were protectors and educators.

And when you had completed your scholarship and were done being protected and educated by the Elders, you waited.

You, Y/N Crow, have been waiting for years.

You aren’t exactly thrilled about it.

You had spent the first thirteen years of your life raised by a single mother that had done everything possible to keep you from the dark world your father operated within. You hadn’t even met the man until a few months after the fire that had destroyed your life and taken your mother from you.

The Catholic Church had claimed you as a ward with the written permission of your biological father immediately upon your mother’s death, a strange and unwelcome presence as you had not been raised with any sort of faith in your life. Having nothing left in America, you had been relocated to the tiny town of Monteriggioni and introduced to the terrifying reality of vampires that walked among us in the night.

You hadn’t believed the stories until you were forced to witness the execution of a goon with your own eyes, the memory of their screech and charred body burned into your mind forever afterward. You had spent the next ten years being moulded into a warrior, a weapon wielded by the Church to exterminate the unholy scourge of the earth that was the growing vampire population.

And you’ve spent more than two years now waiting to be recruited so you could leave this place.

How was it that you, daughter of the infamous Jack Crow, Master Vampire Hunter, hadn’t been added to a team yet? And even if the nepotism hadn’t helped you, you had excelled in your training. So what could possibly be the reason you were still stuck in Monteriggioni?

You suspect that your so-called father has something to do with it.

You really hate the man.

Where did he get off, taking you from your home and everything you’d known and forcing you to follow in his footsteps and then not even letting you out into the world to prove yourself? The best years of your life, the time when you were supposed to find yourself, had been unceremoniously taken from you, and for what?

With nothing better to do, you had taken to exploring the catacombs beneath the city as of late, trying to map out the complex system of tunnels you had grown up on top of. You would hardly say that you were even an amateur cartographer at this point, but your ever-expanding maps made sense to you, at least.

Your focus over the last few months has been the western quadrant of the tunnels. Your exploration of the other areas have all yielded at least one secret passageway or hidden room, but you haven’t found any in this section yet.

These dark, underground halls had long stopped being scary to you, but today something feels different, like there is a chill in the air. While it had been early evening when you’d descended into the tunnels, night was likely only falling now, and you knew it took a few hours after sundown for the night’s chill to seep this far into the ground. You’d been dealing with an inexplicable draft as well, which shouldn’t have been possible underground, but there it was, playing with the flame of your torch again and threatening to extinguish it.

Ordinarily, you could fiddle with the fuel and the airway to create a smaller, more stable flame – with all of your training, you really only required the tiniest fraction of light to see in the dark – but the symbols marking secret entrances were small, and you needed as much light as you could get if you didn’t want to risk missing them entirely.

You were right to do so, coming across two small symbols shortly after reigniting the torch for the fourth time today: one in the shape of a crescent moon, the other an empty cup. You had seen the latter symbol before, here in the catacombs; it indicated the need for a blood sacrifice for the passageway to open. The moon, however, you had only seen in ancient texts, usually used to symbolize change or transformation due to the multiple phases of the lunar cycle. It probably had something to do with what was housed inside, which meant that it wasn’t one of the disused passageways that led out of the city.

Eagerly, the curiosity burning within you, you set your torch on a nearby sconce before unsheathing your dagger, slicing your thumb with the ease of long practice and pressing it against the symbol of the cup. When you remove your thumb from the wall, the symbol looks like a goblet of wine, and a deep rumbling can be heard before the wall slides open a crack.

Bracing yourself against the opposing wall, you press on the newly revealed door with your leg, pushing it open, the sound of stone on stone grating but not unpleasant. Stepping inside the room with your torch in hand once more, your breath is taken away by what’s inside.

Up on the old stone altar, dozens of candles guiding your gaze upwards like the bannisters of a divine staircase, is a large black crucifix, adorned with gold and rubies. A real, sacred relic, right before your very eyes, glittering magnificently in the torchlight…

Relics like these were rumoured to have been stashed all over the city over the centuries. You’d come across some of the altars where they had been kept during your explorations, but they had always been empty, the precious artifacts moved somewhere else or destroyed.

Did anyone even know that this was here? Should you know that this was here? What were you supposed to do know that you had come across it? You weren’t exactly supposed to be poking around down here; you hope you don’t get in trouble.

“Crow…” an unfamiliar voice, husky yet soft, purrs from behind you. You turn guiltily, hoping that a priest or cardinal isn’t about to condemn you for being down here.

But no one is there, waiting to pass judgement on you.

Something about that whisper of your name has your hair standing on end, and you suddenly feel quite claustrophobic in this stone room beneath the city. Time to get out of here.

Taking one last look at the cross, you take your torch in hand and return it to the sconce in the main hallway, moving to reseal the altar room. Your eyes skim past the symbols that marked this place, before doing a double take.

The cup is no longer red with your blood; instead, a dark stain fills the chalice, the way rock did when it got wet. A shudder runs through you, and you think that the spike in adrenaline will at least make it a bit easier for you to push the think wall of stone back into place.

“What is your name, child?” a new voice, this one equally as unfamiliar as the first, asks from the shadows. You shriek, diving for the torch and brandishing it against the darkness, looking for the speaker.

“Where are you?” you demand, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “Show yourself!”

“Your name…” the voice demands again, high and clear like the ringing of a tuning fork.

“Y/N!” you cry out, wanting the voice to stop more than anything. “Y/N Crow.”

“Did I not tell you, Cassandra?” comes the deeper voice, clearly a male. “Her blood does tempt me so, just the same as her father’s. The blood of a Crusader…” the voice hisses, and you come to a horrifying realization.

Your blood sacrifice hadn’t been absorbed by the stone.

It had been licked clean.

Vampires were underneath Monteriggioni.

Sure enough, two figures slowly emerge from the shadows, staying just on the edge of where the light of the torch fades. From what you can see, both are dressed head to toe in black, only their faces and hands visible, bare and ghostly white. The female is short, shorter than you, with long auburn hair that falls in waves like spilt blood, while the male towers over you even from this distance, his hair dark and brushing his shoulders.

You don’t reply, you can’t reply. You can’t even breathe.

You just turn and run.

You think you hear the faint whispers of a conversation between them, but it’s hard to be certain as your heart pounding in your ears drowns out every sound but the thudding of your feet on stone.

You desperately try to picture your map in your head, but this was the area of the catacombs that you were least familiar with. Left… you need to go left.

There’s a whoosh of air, and your torch flickers again, nearly going out, and then the female vampire stands in front of you with a gentle smile.

Oh. They had been the source of the breeze down here.

Placidly, you wonder how long they had been down here for, how long they had been following you for.

You don’t give it too much thought; you’ll be dead in a moment anyway. You’re glad that the dormitories didn’t have any entrances to the catacombs; that would give everyone else a chance, at least.

“Come with me,” Cassandra’s piercing voice demands, extending a clawed hand towards you.

You take an immediate step back; it’s more of a reflex than anything. She gives you an encouraging smile that doesn’t meet her wide, pale eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one,” she insists, despite being several inches shorter than you are. “Now come with me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes seem to glow, and you find yourself moving towards her, feeling like you were floating. She was mesmerizing you.

Knowing that her powers of hypnosis are at work does nothing to break you from their spell, and as you find yourself walking into her open arms, Cassandra laughs delightedly, wrapping you in a cruel imitation of a hug.

“Now… sleep.”

Weightless, your world fades to black.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

One of the things that disappoints me the most about John Carpenter's Vampires is that there are quite a few cool ideas and concepts that are just... not built on at all, in favour of more screentime for Katrina's abuse or James Woods's unpleasant quips. I really want to build up this world, and that starts with giving at least SOME of the other Master/Mistress vampires a name, starting with Cassandra!

[your-queer-dad]

Hi Dad

This is the person who wrote about being too old recently and about a lost ask. I don’t have the previous text anymore so I’ll wri

TW: rant, suicide mentiones, depression, OCD intrusive thoughts, war, ED

So, I have been going through some stuff for the last ~10 years, having to relocated cause of war twice, various toxic situations and relationships, coming out as trans and loosing half of my friend group, so on. But I always felt like there will be a point where somehow, through magic, luck and working on it, I would get better.

But recently I’ve been feeling kinda hopeless, it seems like all any attempt at improvement does is just show me a new flavour of how being miserable. My 20s will end in a few years and I’m just a mess again. Most days it’s hard to do basic tasks and my work on top of that, some days it’s hard to even take public transport cause my brain like to tell me that I’m a predator if I look at people for more than 0.01 seconds without a “good reason”. I’ve even tried taking the easy route out, but could go through with it.

I am also overweight and have been so for most of my life. I know that this is just my body type and that some people find it beautiful, but I just cannot force myself to love it. Been going through starving myself and overeating phases but always end up in the same phase. A year and a half ago, when I cried alone on my birthday because I saw myself in the mirror and thought that noone could ever love me like that. That I am trapped forever being forgotten and unwanted and playing second fiddle to the happy endings of other people.

I have wonderful friends, a good career, I live in a beautiful and queer-friendly city. But I just don’t know how to not feel awful and dissociated and guilty and in pain all of the time. I even eat salads everyday, yes dad, you can be proud of me I no longer feed myself frozen pizzas! Tried 5+ different psych meds, went to multiple therapists and looking for one again, talked to a bunch of doctors but nothing is ever helping. Nothing is ever getting better in my head or in my heart.

Sorry if this is too dark, I just wanted to vent a but without burdening my friends with it again.

Thanks for being around, dad.

Hey kiddo! I'm really happy to hear from you again. It sounds like you've been through so much kiddo and I'm so sorry you've been through so much. But you're still here, and it sounds like you've been trying so hard. I'm so proud of you- and I'm really glad you're here.

The thing with mental health is you can have the most picture perfect life you could imagine, friends, family, career the whole shabang- and still be depressed. Sometimes mental health issues don't go away, or we struggle with them for years and years. Maybe they'll never go away. But we grow around them, our lives expand and bloom around it, and sure it's still there but as things grow the issues feel smaller and smaller. It'll be there, but you'll have other things as well.

Not every day can be a good day, but someday the good days will out weigh the bad ones. You just gotta hold on til you see them.

I'm so incredibly proud of you kiddo. You're doing so well, through so much shit- keep going and I'll always be here to listen. 🫂

- dad x