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forsworned · 10 months ago

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USE YOUR HEART ft. NEEDY!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Warning(s): Sexual Content, Grinding, AFAB!Reader, Mentions of Narcotics

Synopsis: Simon is high off of morphine and it reveals his true feelings for reader...

Author's note: Idk because @dmitriene told me to do it and i <3 her

"I don't wanna be alone."

His voice breaks as he reaches out to you. His usual stoic demeanor had completely diminished in your presence. For the first time, Simon was needy. You gaze down at his hand gently gripping your hand, "I need you." He says. Pleas even. Dark, stormy, and now conflicted eyes are peering up at you and he tugs you toward him. You didn't know how to react. Seeing Simon so injured and broken makes you feel some type of way. Somewhat wrong, but somehow...powerful?

"You need me?" You finally spoke up. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

"Yes.” He croaks out.

The morphine that has been coursing in his system finally kicks in and you were experiencing the lowering inhibitions of Simon Riley, not Ghost.

The Simon Riley laying out on the infirmary bed before you at this moment was vulnerable, desperate, and reliant on your presence and aid--insistent even.

But naturally, you're hesitant. A situation like this is compromising and delicate. Given the nature of the circumstances and his stature, he is obviously still at an advantage, but it feels wrong to pounce at the opportunity. You don't want to feel like a predator skulking about as he studies you with reliant, onyx hues.

You look at the time on your watch.

12:38 AM

It was quite late, but the tugging of his hand over yours disrupts your train of thought.

"C'mere. I want you by my side." He susurrates and you're in a bit of a trance at the resonance of his soothing, sleepy tone. It's not its usual gruff and gravelly, but instead a lulling rasp that pulls you in.

"It's late, Lieutenant." You gently chide as you attempt to pry his fingers off your wrist, but he takes his free hand over your own and pulls you flush against him. Goddamn, he was strong. Even in his dazed and confused state, he is built like a fuckin' boulder.

But he's not listening to you as he fiddles with your fingers, tracing over the skin and where it creases and finely wrinkles. Over the nail bed, and the unfiled ridges, down to the chip that you earned from earlier when you reached for your gun in your holster too quickly. He's thumbing over the half-moon on your thumb and then the scar on the meat of your palm before he brings it to his masked lips as if to kiss it over the fabric.

A small, shuddering breath escapes you, and your eyes are glazing over before you swallow thickly. He cups your hand over his jaw and inhales sharply as he closes his eyes.

"Don't care." He replies, curling his bicep around your waist and secures you so have nowhere to go.

Your heart thuds at the contact and your cheeks are teeming with warmth. And suddenly it feels like the heat in there is turning to the max because you're sweating like a dog under his keen gaze and snug hold on you.

"Want you to stay." And it's as if he's speaking purely from the heart when he looks at you like that. You want nothing more but to crumble into his arms and cave into whatever feelings are lurking within you, but there's an urge to maintain your professionalism. And Simon senses that. He wants you to let go.

Why? He didn't know. Be it the drugs, the near-death experience, or the fact that you look utterly gorgeous under the strong moonlight or all of the above; he wants you with all his being.

His bandage-wrapped fingers loop around the bottom of his mask and he's lifting it up to expose just his lips as it scrunches up under his nose. Even if you have seen the sight a multitude of times over the years of knowing your Lieutenant, it is always as awestriking as it was the first time you saw it. His pretty rosy lips kiss at your wrist and you're stunned.

"Stay." He croaks out.

"And then what?"

You can't help yourself from asking such a silly question. You just need to feel needed by him because there is just something about the clinginess in his body language that pulls you in for more. If Simon is being honest right now, he's on cloud motherfucking nine. He's so high that everything feels like tunnel vision right now and you're the only damn thing he can focus on, not that he would want to focus on anything else.

So when he's telling you to stay, he damn well means it. But he also wants more. He's telling himself not to be too hasty, at least the logical part of him, though he is following his heart's desires. And his heart is conveying to him that he yearns for your closeness, for all your regard, and selfishly enough, your own heart.

At this point, all reasoning is being tossed out the window when he fixates on your trembling, shimmering eyes and your quivering glossed lips that are slightly chapped. But he's thinking to himself, one kiss. One kiss would fix that for you.

Simon is no longer struggling to sit up when he's tensing you closer to him feeling the sweat wetting the small of your back. His brows slightly raise and you feel your cheeks flush at his little observation, but he's not halting his motion to close the short distance between you two. He's bringing his hand over the nape of your neck, carding his scarred fingers through the tendrils of your hair and a soft sigh leaves your lips.

And the way you visibly relax draws out a small smile onto his lips as your foreheads collide. You don't even dare to open your eyes. You swallow thickly as you feel your breath become shallow and sharp. It fans against his lips and he's feels even more enticed to just kiss you.

"Dammit, [name]..." He finally breathes out. And you're eyes are on him and he can feel a thrill creep up his chine when he sees the flash of longing overcome your half lidded gaze.

And now you're yearning to bridge the distance, creeping closer to him, nudging your nose against his, and faintly brushing your lips over the stubble on his philtrum. You notice how his chest huffs out, stuttering as it leaves his lungs.

Long blonde lashes tickle at your own as your lips graze and you're heart is thumping out of your chest. You feel yourself holding back from your own hankerings but the moment that Simon brings his thumb to skim over your bottom lip, you feel the tension snap like a rubberband and you're crashing your lips against his. To hell with ethical conduct and decorum, you want nothing more than to satiate your thirst for him.

And with every kiss, you feel like your hunger is being appeased. The ferocity that grows in the depths of your groin is clawing out as you clamber on top of him and you're tuning out the noisy heartbeat monitor that's becoming rapid. And it cuts out, thanks to the swift movement of Simon pulling out the cord so he can nestle his hands under your shirt and slip his tongue between your open-mouth kisses.

He's losing himself in you and he doesn't care because the feeling of your nails digging into his abdomen is more than pleasant. As if the morphine wasn't dizzying enough, he was starting to feel like he was reaching some sort of seventh heaven. Especially when he hears the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he thumbs atop your hardened bud and gently tweaks it between his fingers.

The tent that's starting to feel like it's pitching between his legs is getting ground upon and he shudders at how fucking good it feels.

"Fuck." He murmurs as he lifts your shirt up to expose your breast to him and he's latching his lips to your sensitive nipple. It's a soft probing of his tongue against the erogenous zone and you're instantly arching your back and he grasps at your hips to abrade your clothed sex against him. And it feels so fucking good.

So, naturally, you're not stopping. And Simon can't help but become absorbed in your pleasure. Your milky moans are like music to his ears as he switches over to your other nipple. The friction builds in your lower belly as you get into a good rhythm and it becomes increasingly euphoric with every roll of your hips. And fuck, it's not even much but the way you are so touch-starved makes it all the better.

"Simon, I—hah—gonna—" You moan out, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his tongue swirls around your bud. He's already addicted to the way you're saying his name between your whimpers.

"Cum." He commands, as he clutches your hips to help achieve your oncoming orgasm. His sexy, raspy voice is enough to send you over the edge and a terrific gasp escapes you as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath is gone and you feel like your voice melts into a deep, hot sweetness that soothes your electrifying nerves.

There is a brief pause of silence as you catch your breath and the embarrassment skulks in and you don't want to withdraw from him. You only focus on his heartbeat which slows and his breath that levels. Your throat tightens as you shift awkwardly and his hand on your hip feels a little limp. You take another moment to memorize how he smelled to help you calm your nerves.

The aroma of his natural musk enmeshed with the faint scent of cypress digs into your brain as you try your hardest to engrave his essence before it slips away. With one more breath of courage, you withdraw from him to face the music but it seems he's fast asleep. His thumb is still hooked into the belt loop of your jeans, and you can't help but giggle at him.

A small sigh leaves your lips as you calm down from your climax and your shaky fingers, lower his mask back down so it's stretching over his neck. Maybe if you slip away right now he'll think that it was just a nice little wet dream...

But you feel his hand cling to you as you try make your sweet escape.

"Thought I told ya to stay." He mumbles under his breath while he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you and making certain you're not leaving his side anytime soon.

There's a feeling of assurance that fluxes over your edginess and you can finally breathe again. Simon's body feels weightless as he lays in this infirmary bed with your toasty form atop his. It feels heavenly to have your figure pressed against him and he hums in contentment. He's replaying the sound of your moans and the way your body writhed under his touch. And you're starting to feel the rigidity of his dirty thoughts against the zipper of your jeans.

"You sure?" You murmur back, feeling the warmth sidle back into your cheeks.

His grin grows under his mask and you can feel it against your forehead. Sleep overtakes him, but he gives you one last squeeze.

"'m sure."

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thelazyhermits · 4 months ago

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Even though I prefer to wait until TWST events reach the ENG server before writing anything for them, I just couldn't help myself when it comes to my Yuu's first meeting with Skully cause I just love him, and I really wanted to give writing him a try.

There are spoilers for the new JPN Halloween event underneath the cut, so if you don't want to be spoiled, I'd recommend not reading this, although I'm not strictly following what happened with Skully & Yuu's first meeting in the event since I wanted to put my own spin on it.

Also, I purposely avoided bringing attention to the event outfits here since my Yuu's event outfit hasn't been decided yet, so I'll just say Yuu focuses on her and Skully's clothes after this scene lol

Lastly, for those not familiar with my writing, my Yuu is female, so if that's not your preference, you probably won't wanna read this.

For those who do decide to read this, I hope you'll enjoy it! 😊💕

When you regain consciousness, it’s to the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling out to you.

“Hello..? Hello, my dear? Lovely lady sleeping in my arms?”

Upon hearing that voice, your groggy mind immediately focuses on the incredibly warm, gentle tone the unknown speaker uses when addressing you, which you’re unaccustomed to hearing thanks to the kind of upbringing you had and the kind of people you currently go to school with.

Seconds after that voice pierces through the haze that’s currently clouding your mind, you finally register the fact that someone is holding you in their arms, keeping you safely and comfortably secure against their chest.

“Can you hear my voice?”

Once again, the unfamiliar voice addresses you, and at the same time, you feel a long, slender gloved finger brush against your cheek with a tenderness that surprises you.

Just who is this person?

And why do they sound genuinely concerned on your behalf? Why is everything about them so gentle?

“Hey, my dear, please, open your eyes for me…”

Upon hearing that request, you finally pry your heavy eyelids apart, so you can finally get some answers to the questions currently swirling around your groggy mind.

After blinking several times to clear your blurry vision, you take in the sight of a handsome, white-haired boy, who appears to be around your age, judging from his young face.

Just after your eyes open, the mysterious stranger beams, “Thank goodness, you’re awake!”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at that charming smile, which looks genuine from your perspective. That and the obvious relief in his voice, which doesn’t in any way sound forced, make you think that he really has been worried about you.

After taking a moment to scrutinize the sincerity of that smile, your eyes drift upwards and focus on the boy’s sunglasses, whose dark, circular lenses are completely hiding his eyes from view.

You have to fight the urge to click your tongue upon seeing those sunglasses since his eyes being hidden will make it difficult for you to properly read his expressions, which is why you never liked dealing with the people in Japan’s underworld who wore this type of eyewear specifically because they wanted to make themselves hard to read.

Ironically enough, just after the topic of his eyes occupies your thoughts, the still smiling stranger brings his face dangerously close to yours, making you think he really has no concept of personal space, considering he’s doing something like this and had no qualms about holding you while you were unconscious.

“Oh my, what dazzling eyes you have, my dear. They are just as lovely as you are. I am overjoyed to finally be able to see them at long last.”

Strangely enough, rather than have the immediate impulse to hit him, like what would normally happen under circumstances like these, you find yourself feeling only amused, perhaps because this boy reminds you a lot of Rook, whose eccentricities you’ve grown quite accustomed to these last several months.

Of course, it also helps that your instincts are telling you that this person isn’t a threat to you, and you’re always inclined to believe them since they’ve never lied to you before.

That’s why, rather than push this stranger away, you decide to take advantage of this perfect opportunity that he just unintentionally provided you.

Faster than he can react, you grab his sunglasses and move them upwards, allowing you a clear view of his wide, red eyes, whose pupils have a cool, concentric pattern.

A smirk rises to your lips. “If you’re gonna check out my eyes, it’s only fair you let me do the same.”

After moving his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head, you find yourself pausing after your eyes focus on the diamond-shaped patches of black hair that are now located directly beneath the sunglasses.

It kinda looks like a face…a very familiar face at that. You note. Although, I can’t remember why it looks so familiar to me…

Since there are more important matters that you need to attend to right now, you quickly shelve those thoughts, with the intention of going back to them later.

Quickly, you refocus your gaze on the face of the stranger, whose arms you woke up in, and firmly take hold of his chin, so you can keep him from moving his face away from yours since this close proximity will make it all the more easier for you to read his expressions.

Your earlier smirk returns when the mysterious boy becomes noticeably flustered, making you believe he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine. “Now, let’s have a little Q & A, Mr. Up Close And Personal, so I can decide what to do with you.”

Giving the befuddled boy no chance to refuse, you ask, “Alright, the first and most important question is: Why did you decide to pull an unconscious girl into your lap? Sure, I can get wanting to wake me after finding me in such a state, but was that all really necessary?”

Rather than appear apprehensive upon being on the receiving end of your piercing, judgmental stare, the mysterious stranger, who appears genuinely surprised by your question, frowns, “Obviously, I could not allow a lovely lady such as yourself to remain on the cold, hard ground! I wouldn’t be able to call myself a gentleman otherwise!”

Because you can tell that he’s not lying thanks to the obvious sincerity in his eyes and voice, some of the tension in your frame eases as your gaze somewhat softens. “Heh, good answer. While not every girl would accept it, considering the circumstances, I will since I can tell you had good intentions, although I would still advise not trying something like this with any other girls since most girls would understandably hit first and ask questions later.”

Judging from his puzzled expression, this boy truly has no idea why a girl would react in such a manner, giving you the impression that he can be rather oblivious when it comes to the effects his actions have on others.

Rather than try to explain things to him, you move onto your next two questions. “Second and third questions: Who are you, and how did you end up here with me?”

Much to your amusement, rather than appear bothered by your interrogation, the white-haired boy, who’s once again smiling and has seemingly forgotten his earlier embarrassment, cheerfully answers, “My name is Skully J. Graves. It’s nice to meet you!”

“As to how I ended up here with you, I stumbled upon your unconscious form by chance after I woke up in this unfamiliar place.” He continues, “I’m afraid I can’t provide any further information since I am just as confused as you must feel about these strange circumstances we’re both now facing.”

The corners of your lips dip downward. He’s not lying about finding me by chance, but I get the feeling he’s not being completely forthright with me about how he ended up here.

It’s possible he just doesn’t remember how he got here since my mind was rather hazy when I first woke up, although my memories of what happened with the crazy book that Grim opened at the used book fair are starting to come back to me. You think to yourself. He may think I won’t believe him if he claims to not remember how he got here, or he simply wants to avoid saying anything that may make him look suspicious.

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot!” Skully exclaims, successfully drawing you away from your thoughts. “How careless of me!”

His concerned eyes peer into yours. “How are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere, my dear?”

Upon seeing that he’s genuinely concerned about you, your expression softens. While I get the feeling that there’s more than meets the eye with this guy, I can tell he’s not a bad person at heart. A bad person wouldn’t be so kind and gentle toward me, especially not while I’m interrogating them.

While this doesn’t necessarily mean Skully can be trusted, you can at least give him the benefit of the doubt and be open to the idea of eventually trusting him after getting to know him better.

I would still like to get some more info outta him, especially in regards to how he ended up in this place like me, but it’d probably be better if I space out my questions rather than bombard him with them all at once. You muse. While he’s been pretty accommodating thus far, that might change if I start asking questions that make him uncomfortable, and I’d rather avoid causing any kind of conflict right now when I’ve got other more important things to worry about.

Rather than continue interrogating him, it’d be better to just wait and ask more questions later on once Skully has become more comfortable with you, or even better, if you bide your time, you may glean new information from him that he willingly provides without you even needing to ask since he seems like a talkative kind of guy.

That’s why you finally release your hold on his chin, surprising him, since it’s really for the best that you quit giving him the third-degree, especially when the boy hasn’t even technically done anything wrong yet. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking, er…”

Realizing you don’t know if Skully is someone you need to be more formal with like your upperclassmen or if he’s the same age as you, you ask, “How old are you? I can’t tell if you’re older than me or not, so I’m not sure how I should address you. I’m sixteen, by the way.”

Appearing noticeably pleased, Skully eagerly replies, “I am also sixteen! How wonderful to make a new friend who is the same age as me!”

“And you may address me however you please!” He adds, “I will be overjoyed regardless because such a lovely lady is calling me by name!”

The corners of your lips quirk upwards at his cute response. “You’re quite the charmer, huh? I like that. It’s rather refreshing, considering how most guys my age act.”

“Alright, considering you have no preference, I’ll just call you Skully and not worry about any formalities, like what I do with my other friends our age.” You add.

Your smile grows. “Since I’ve gotten enough info to satisfy myself for the time being, I’ll put an end to my little interrogation and introduce myself. My name is Yuu. It’s nice to meet you, Skully.”

Skully beams, “What a lovely name! I’m so glad to meet you, Yuu-san!”

Catching you by surprise, Skully gently takes hold of your hand and tenderly kisses your knuckles. “I thank you for this wonderful encounter.”

Once you overcome your surprise, your expression becomes amused. He did call himself a gentleman earlier, so I guess I should’ve seen this coming, especially with his formal, old-fashioned way of speaking. He’s just like the gentlemen characters you see on TV.

Luckily for him, you’ve always been fond of those types of characters, so you think the two of you will get along just fine.

Plus, it’s not everyday you meet someone this sweet and gentlemanly thanks to the kind of people you normally hang out with, so you want to make the most of this opportunity to get along with this somewhat odd yet still quite endearing boy.

A grin rises to your lips. Most importantly, when a boy acts this cute, it makes me wanna spend more time with him and look for opportunities to tease him to see if he’ll give me some equally adorable reactions.

That's why you decide to have a little fun by shifting your hand that’s currently still being held, so you can gently grab Skully’s, surprising him.

Giving him no chance to react, you bring his hand close to your mouth and tenderly kiss his knuckles, mirroring his previous actions, all the while channeling the princely charm Cater always has you show off for your fans on Magicam. “Likewise, handsome.”

Much to your delight, Skully instantly becomes incredibly flustered because of your actions - to the point his blush covers the majority of his face, making you think this is the first time someone has ever done something like this to him.

Even better, after you release your hold on his hand, Skully, who has apparently been rendered speechless, considering how quiet he now is, uses both of his hands to cup his incredibly flushed cheeks, making him look even more adorable.

Your grin grows at the incredibly endearing sight. Looks like he's the type who gets super flustered when flirted with, like Deuce and Sebek. How adorable. I’m definitely gonna have some fun with this boy. Hehe~

Regrettably, you don’t get to enjoy this moment for very long, because, seconds after you recall how Deuce and Sebek usually react to your playful flirting, you finally realize that something is missing here.

Or rather, some people.

Wide-eyed, you immediately turn to look around and realize that the only people in the surrounding area, which consists of a barren forest that stretches out as far as the eye can see, are you and Skully. “Wait a minute! Where are my friends?!”

I can’t believe I let myself get so distracted that I totally forgot about the others! You internally scream. I’m a horrible mother! Where are my sons?!

As you panickily try to climb out of Skully’s lap so you can start a search for Grim and the others, the white-haired boy catches you off guard when he suddenly rises to his feet and takes you along for the ride.

Once on his feet, Skully gently sets you down, so you can stand on your own. “There you are, Yuu-san. Now, what was that about ‘friends’? Did you not come here alone like myself?”

Rather than answer his question, all you can do is stare at this boy who’s now towering over you like a lanky giant. Holy shit. He’s tall. I had figured he would be a tall boy just from how he was hunched over me earlier, but I was not expecting him to be this big. He may be even taller than Jack and Tsunotaro!

Skully curiously tilts his head when you fail to answer his question. “Yuu-san? Are you alright?”

Realizing this is not the time for gaping like an idiot, you give yourself a quick mental shake before replying, “Yeah, sorry. I was just surprised by how tall you are. I have some friends our age who are tall, but I’m pretty sure you’re even bigger than them, which seriously amazes me.”

“Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I should have some friends with me here since they were all with me right before I ended up in this weird place.” You continue, “While it’s possible I’m the only one who ended up in this crazy predicament, I find it unlikely, considering how close some of them were to me when I got enveloped by the weird magic that brought me here.”

Much to your amusement, mere seconds after those words leave your mouth, you hear some incoherent screaming coming from the distance, and you immediately recognize that voice as belonging to Sebek since you'd know that booming voice anywhere.

Thankfully, the screaming you hear isn’t the kind that indicates Sebek is scared or in trouble, so more than likely, he’s just freaking out about his current circumstances and/or your absence.

Your shoulders slump with relief when you hear your son’s voice. “Speaking of my giant friends, that voice belongs to one of them. Thank goodness. At least, now, I know where I need to go.”

“Would you like to go with me, Skully?” You ask, “I’d hate to leave you on your own, and we’ll have a higher chance of getting out of this mess we’re in if we work together.”

Skully beams, “I would be more than happy to accompany you! Thank you for your kind invitation!”

With that settled, you turn to face the direction that Sebek’s screaming came from, but before you can start walking, Skully surprises you when he quickly moves to stand in front of you.

Before you can question his actions, Skully gracefully bows before offering you a hand, smiling all the while. “Please allow me to be your escort.”

Since you see no harm in it and it would be nice to have a hand to hold onto while you’re walking through this somewhat creepy forest, you reach out and take his proffered hand. “Alright, thank you. Do you know your way around this forest, Skully?”

He shakes his head. “No, unfortunately, I am unfamiliar with this forest like you.”

Grinning, Skully asks, “But don’t you think it’s a wonderful experience to wander hand-in-hand in a mysterious forest?”

His question makes you giggle. What a romantic. Skully just keeps getting more and more entertaining the longer I talk to him.

After you rein in your amusement, you warmly smile, “Holding hands definitely would make this situation better, so I’m fine with walking like this.”

Plus, someone, who’s as touch-starved as you, would never turn down the opportunity to hold hands with someone, just as long as you know that person isn’t dangerous, of course.

You squeeze Skully’s hand. And I can’t turn down a request from someone who seems to be as touch-starved as me, considering his past actions remind me a lot of how I typically act around my friends, not when I know hand-holding will make both of us equally happy.

For a moment, Skully just stares at you in surprise, or at least, you’re assuming he’s surprised since you can no longer see his full face thanks to his sunglasses, which he returned to their rightful place after he helped you to your feet earlier.

His reaction further convinces you that your hunch about him being touch-starved is right since he really seems very unaccustomed to someone willingly accepting his touch.

Just like how you were before you came to NRC….

Once he overcomes his surprise, Skully’s earlier cheerfulness returns with a vengeance as he happily replies, “Let us be off then! I look forward to meeting all of your companions, whom I’m sure are just as lovely as you!”

Unfortunately, I doubt they’ll be excited to meet you when we show up, and they see you holding my hand. You wryly think to yourself.

And, of course, you were exactly right.

#fortune in twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #skully j graves #twst x reader #platonic skully j graves x reader #my writing #twst spoilers #twst jp spoilers #twst halloween spoilers #twst nightmare before christmas

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measuredingold · 5 months ago

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more cuddling with noah, but written properly 🥲 very short so i’m not considering this a fic so no word count and will probably tag this as a headcanon <3 anyways enjoy

cw/tw: fluff fluff fluff that’s literally it

A sigh from the top of the stairs breaks you out of your doom scrolling, eyes looking up from your phone to find Noah already staring at you.

His brows were furrowed and lips set in a deep frown, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he's been up a lot longer than you realized. Your eyes drop to your phone again to check the time, finding yourself frowning that it's well into the evening, and this is your first time seeing Noah since breakfast.

You look up. "Hi baby."

He sighs again before trudging down the steps, and you can practically see the heaviness of whatever is on his mind weighing on him. You shift on the couch to get in a much more comfortable position, back pressed into the cushions, and your arms opening once Noah gets closer to you. He gently falls onto you with a groan before wrapping his arms around your middle the best he can.

"Hi." He mumbles, face burying against the crook of your neck. One of your hands immediately finds a way to his hair, fingers carding through it while the other rests on his back.

"What's up?"

You feel his body slowly start to melt into yours, burrowing himself closer to you. You shiver at the feeling of his hands sliding up under your shirt, cool to the touch.

"Can't get this one part right." His voice is muffled against your neck and you can barely understand him, but don't bother moving him. You know this is the first time all day he's been semi-relaxed. "Pissing me off."

"Take a break, honey."

"I am." Noah groans. "Right now. Gimme like... 10 minutes, then I'll head back up."

You laugh softly, scratching at his scalp gently before smoothing down his hair. "You need a much longer break than that. How long have you been at it?"

"Uh..." It takes much longer for him to respond, brain probably fried from staring at his screen for so long. "Sometime this morning?"

"I figured that much. You were working before I even got up."

"Needed to get a head start on it." He yawns loudly then and tries to snuggle his body closer to yours, fingers digging into the skin at your sides.

"You can work on it tomorrow." You can't stop the frown forming on your lips, hand running up and down his back. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"...This morning."

"Noah."

"I knooow." It comes out as a whine and you can't help but laugh again, turning your head to press a kiss to the side of his head. "I forgot. Too caught up in the song. I didn't realize how much time had passed until like, 30 minutes ago."

"Want me to make you something? Or takeout?"

Another long moment of silence follows your question, and you think briefly that maybe he had already fallen asleep, the exhaustion catching up to him. Eventually you hear him make a noise and wiggle his body closer to yours, nose pressing against the base of your neck.

"...Takeout?"

"We can do that. Chinese?" Noah nods against you. "Want me to order it now?"

"In a second." He sighs out and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath against your neck. "I just wanna lay here for a while longer."

You practically melt at his words and your hand drops from his hair to wrap your arms around him fully. You wish it was under better circumstances, but you loved whenever he was in one of these moods. Where he needed to be as close to you as possible, practically needing to live in your skin to feel somewhat sane. You squeeze him to your chest, feeling him try to wiggle his way closer to you.

"Whatever you want, my love."

He practically purrs at that and your face flushes when you feel the brush of his lips against your skin.

"Thank you." He murmurs in response before relaxing against your chest again, letting out a deep sigh you think he's been holding in.

You don't say anything, just squeeze him tighter to you as you both lay there in silence, basking in the comfort of each other.

#bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #headcanons

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pleasantspark · 20 days ago

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Hello, I am the one who started the Tumblr!HelluvaVerse Critical Self Aware Blog Trend, AMA!

As people wonder why I did them? Well you can shoot an ask and I'll answer for now this is what the Self Aware AU is like.

Everyone BUT Stolas is self aware of how stupid everything is, the reasoning for WHY Stolas is singled out is because why not? We're strictly ANTI-STOLAS here.

All blogs run by the same concept but the people behind the blogs have their own Headcanons and takes on the characters, the only things that remain are based on @mammoncriticizes, @seraphinacriticizes and @pentiouscriticizes sides.

Satan is the true ruler of Hell and has a DAUGHTER named Jezebel.

Infodumps and Loredumps made by all three of the mainblogs will be posted between asks, so it's a blink and you miss type deal.

Why did you make this?

I don't know, wanted to have fun with working together with the Critical Community, by taking inspo by the Instagram!HelluvaVerse but do it with Tumblr a united front that has similarities to most things.

I'd like to thank @moxxiecriticizes for being the first person to join then recruiting @0ctaviacr1tical as well. I was doing this for shits and giggles and it looks like we MIGHT actually pull this off.

I'd like to join where can we start?

Well, goodie! There's a way you can do it!

Just make an account and shoot me an ask! I usually respond to them as fast as I can!

Join the Self Aware AU Community Tumblr and shoot your shot there. (https://www.tumblr.com/join/pnuZQ40)

Or request a character in a google forum which had NOT yet been made.

Also, make sure your name has some variant of critical or criticizes in it! With the characters name and what they are in the bio so we can identify us!

What's the AU about?

Mammon, being the first to break free from this illusion began to realize that 2 + 2 does not indeed equal fish as he questioned around early season one, and realized he was forced to do things that he normally wouldn't do under any circumstances. With the help of online Hellblr he is able to contact people through OUR tumblr space somehow to connect with a wider audience through some means.

With that, there's been an influx of people joining the cause, and with every new critical blog popping up that means more and more characters are currently realizing just how fucked up their world truly is.

Status on Redesigns.

As we stand, we do accept redesigns as we would like to rebrand the characters and we're using this AU to reinvent the new storyline so if you end up drawing the posts we make then we accept it. Reblog it as well.

Blogs In Order of Creation

@mammoncriticizes / @mammoncritical @seraphinacriticizes @moxxiecriticizes @pentiouscriticizes @0ctaviacr1tical @fizzcriticizes @stellacriticizes @soberedupcatcritises @loonacriticizes @duskcriticizes @nyxcriticizes

REFER TO THE ABOVE IF YOU HAVE ONE ALREADY. It's recommended you make it a side blog, we might actually have people run the Seraphina and Pentious blogs if people wanna join.

#. 💞 ; txt #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #spindlehorse critical #anti stolas #anti spindlehorse #vivziepop critical #anti vivziepop

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starberry-cupcake · 11 months ago

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back by popular (?) demand, I am now starting chapter 28 of gideon the ninth and I guess I'm sharing updates to the general public now ( @lady-harrowhark this is your responsibility). I think I'm gonna put them under this tag because I am being told I will want to look back on them later (sounds threatening ngl).

previously, in gideon the ninth:

isaac was ended by some junji ito shit

jannemary was ended by a stealthy junji ito shit

very pointed messages were written for them

which is too dramatic to be a random monster killing, if you ask me

gideon took a 15 minute nap and was startled awake in hell

gideon most definitely did not look much at the room before she took said nap, nor did she remember the paper she's still carrying around

I'm losing my mind at the paper

I'm like watching another d&d player choose to never look at something the dm gave them

were we are now:

gideon is back, now with More Trauma

harrow has the compassion of a feral kitten

this is a bad combination for me, personally, in particular, because this means gideon is going to look for comfort in my mortal enemy dulcinea

she gives her a talk that is trying to distract me from the fact that I don't trust her, but I will never trust her

she was like "it'd be better to die here than to be living longer and trapped" and I was like "wanna let me help you with that?"

palamedes has also been carrying a dulcinea boner, which also makes things difficult for me

because if my mortal enemy ends up being bad and dangerous, and palamedes is in danger, it would force camilla to be in danger, and we don't want, under any circumstances, to put camilla in danger

mayonnaise uncle has been gossiping in the eighth and ortus's mom (where I'm from, 'orto' means 'ass', so I will never forget his name) spilled the beans on the ninth

he offers gideon literal tea with a side of the metaphorical tea

here's where I went "boy, I sure hope harrow doesn't push gideon away and gives her a reason to turn to these guys"

harrow proceeds to do just that

with clockwork precision

I cannot emphasize enough how meticulously she did this

if pushing people away was an olympic sport, and if that was the way to judge this competition, this book would be 10 pages long because harrow has mastered the craft

you could hear gideon's psyche becoming dust

needless to say, we're having tea with the eighth soon, everyone bring your scones and poison

which, you know, fine, at least gideon will be told information

and btw, protesilaus is still live reacting from an unknown location

idk what regina george twin, yandere simulator twin and chad the third are doing but, at this point, I don't know what anyone is doing, really

except for dulcinea, I JUST KNOW she's up to no good

and the second is probably still dealing with the fact that they lost to Camilla The Everything

#tlt #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #luly rambles #luly reacts to tlt #tlt spoilers

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cosmiccrushes · 1 month ago

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A Sea Of Crows

Rook x Lucanis || 5.5k words

summary: Lucanis Dellamorte and Rook de Riva meet under the most unusual circumstances. But what's not unusual is the friendship, and eventually more, they find together.

notes: I have half a mind to keep writing this Rook (my og mage Crow Rook) and Lucanis into a longer form fic (maybe a series?) I do have a whole backstory planned for her that I think could be fun to explore but ahhh idk

UPDATE! I am going to keep writing this as a multi chapter fic. It's going to include Lucanis personal quests, main datv plot points I wanna cover, and eventually my named Rook's backstory as an Antivan Crow

also humongous shoutout to @ datvtranscripts on tumblr for their incredible work cataloging datv dialogue, massively helpful for this fanfic writer <3

~~~

CH 1: A Crow Underwater

Lucanis snaps the neck of the last Venatori cultist, letting their body thump to the stone at his feet. Spite’s wings dissipate at his back.

Someone speaks behind him, voice lilting in an almost playful manner. “I’m guessing you’re the reason we’re here.”

He turns to the two individuals who are entirely out of place in this underwater prison cell. Their unexpected arrival provided him with just the distraction he needed to burst from the crystal the Venatori had come to him in and dispatch them. He studies the new arrivals through narrowed eyes. One, a dwarf and the other, a Dalish elf, judging by the tattoos feathering around their eyes.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” His voice is gruff with disuse. A year locked away with nothing but a demon for a conversation companion would do that.

It's the elf who speaks again. “My name’s Rook. House de Riva. I’m here to bring you home. She’s Harding,” the elf jerks their head towards the dwarf whose hands tighten on her crossbow.

A fellow Crow? House de Riva. That makes them one of Viago’s. Has his grandmother sent them to retrieve him? The day's surprises continue for Lucanis. “House de Riva. You're a Crow.”

“Last time I checked.” The elf peers over their shoulder at an ominous groan from the prison’s walls. It appears the sounds of clashing Venatori and demons that Lucanis heard echoing through the Ossuary have resulted in a bit of structural damage. “We need to escape. Then we can talk.” The Crow, Rook, says, bringing their attention back to him. “I’m here to help. I’m breaking you out of here.”

“Only one of you’s a Crow?” Lucanis is baffled by this situation.

“And you’re possessed by a demon.” They sound curious, not judgemental, as their eyes trace the empty space around him where Spite's wings had been moments ago.

“It's complicated.” Lucanis supposes he should get used to people looking at him like he's an abomination. Only, this Rook…doesn't. Their gaze stays open and curious. Their partner's discomfort goes unhidden. But if Rook is alarmed by the presence of a demon-possessed assassin, they don't show it.

“Caterina promised us a mage-killer if we broke you out of here.” Rook says mildly.

“I can still work.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure more Venatori are on their way. We have to get moving.”

“Rook…” The dwarf looks to the Crow, her mouth pulled taught with wariness. “He's possessed.”

“It's fine, Harding.”

“Rook-” Harding tries again.

“I said I can work.” Lucanis bites out.

Harding glares at him. “And I’ll listen to whatever she says,” she gestures with her crossbow at Rook. “But I don’t trust him.” The last bit she addresses towards the elf.

“Understood.” Rook nods. “And we can discuss that later. Right now, I’d really prefer not drowning at the bottom of the sea.”

“I can’t leave yet. The Venatori have a vial of my blood. I cannot leave it in their hands.” He notes the staff at Rook’s back, marking her as a mage. She will understand better than any the gravity of a mage who owns your blood.

“Okay.”

“And I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan.” Lucanis locks eyes with Rook. “You know what that means. Crows don’t break contracts.”

“All right. We'll help,” she agrees easily. “But in return, I want help killing some things.”

“I’ll owe you.” Lucanis vows, noting the vagueness in her request. But a contract is a contract. Whatever things need killing, Lucanis would oblige. And if Caterina had sent her for a deal, Lucanis would never refuse.

“I’m sure we’ll owe each other before this is all over.” She pulls blades from her own belt, tossing them to Lucanis. “Let’s go. So, first order of business?”

“Blood first, then my target. Calivan. The prison warden.” Rook immediately takes the lead as they exit his prison cell. Lucanis follows and this provides him with a chance to study his mysterious Crow rescuer.

She's a wisp of a woman. Lucanis does not mean this derisively- he himself is of small stature and it serves him well as an assassin. But he has entire inches on her. She must make deadly use of that in their line of work. As they slink through the corridors of the Ossuary, Lucanis observes the fluid lightness of her steps and knows he’s right. A target would never hear her coming. Her long, silvery blonde hair falls over her shoulders in two, tightly woven braids.

“Where do we find them? Calivan?”

“In the tower. There’s a bridge.”

“Not anymore,” Rook replies and Lucanis wonders just how bad of a state the Ossuary has fallen into. “We’ll have to find another way across.”

A flurry of motion ahead of them as Venatori mages descend upon them in the chamber outside of his former cell. Lucanis refuses to even harbor thoughts that they will not escape this watery hell. He will not go back to that cell now that he is free, even if he must die instead.

“Good. Mages. My specialty.” Lucanis is so eager to have a blade back in his hand, to cause pain to the Venatori that Rook and Harding are barely needed in this fight. Spite lends his wings and Lucanis stretches his muscles for the first time in a year. He gets the distinct impression that Rook is deliberately hanging back– whether to study his abilities or to offer him a bit of vengeance, he is unsure.

Rummaging through the pockets of the slain Venatori, Rook raises a key, her triumphant smile spreading wide. “All right! One of them has a key. Must be my lucky day.”

Lucanis raises an eyebrow. “You have an odd idea of luck.” He glances pointedly at their surroundings.

Rook shrugs. “Well, I’m not dead yet. Neither are you. And actually, given the circumstances, that probably makes your luck better than mine.” She winks at him. Lucanis is suddenly very aware that these are the first true conversations he’s had with anyone in months. He’s not quite sure he’s doing it right. Is it possible to forget how to talk to people?

They move forward through the Ossuary. Lucanis wonders how his grandmother finally found his location and why it was this particular Crow she sent to retrieve him. Not a Crow from House Dellamorte. Not a Crow he had even met before, as far as he could remember. And despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Rook imparted a feeling that she was not easily forgotten.

“So, the Crows sent a mage to free their mage-killer?”

“No. They sent their best.”

“Did they?” Lucanis is genuinely curious how things may have changed within the Crows during his absence. Who has risen in the ranks, who has fallen. Had his cousin, Illario, moved closer to First Talon?

Rook raises one eyebrow at him, the other scrunching with what must be amusement as her lips curl up at the edges. “No. They sent who needed you and who came looking at exactly the right time. Although I am good.” She winks at him yet again. Lucanis searches his memory trying to recall what it means when people wink at you.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Two blighted elven gods have broken free of their Fade prison and want to blight the whole bloody world. You're the Demon of Vyrantium. You're the mage-killer. Hopefully god-killer is in there somewhere too.”

“Blighted gods?” Lucanis must have heard her wrong.

“Yeah. I know, it's a lot. Just what the elven people need.” There’s a hard edge pressing against her words. “So about your target?”

“Calivan. The warden of the Ossuary. He oversees everything here.”

“Where do we find him?” The dwarf– Harding– asks.

“He’ll be in the most fortified part of the Ossuary, but first, we have to find where they’re keeping my blood. I cannot touch Calivan until it’s dealt with.”

Their conversation is interrupted when they enter a new chamber and a swarm of Venatori pop into existence around them. Even as they fight, Harding keeps one eye trained on him, her distrust evident. Still, she is deadly with her bow– her arrows do not miss.

And Rook– Rook is an artist, raising her staff like a brush against canvas. She paints death over the Venatori and effortlessly falls into step beside him, no longer holding back. Perhaps Lucanis has grown poetic during his isolation. Or maybe, he is simply moved by the welcome familiarity of fighting alongside another Crow. It has been too long since he had a taste of home. Regardless, it is apparent that Rook wasn't being overly braggadocious about being good. She wields her magic with all of the finesse and grace expected of a Crow.

They proceed. Striking down Venatori as they go. Rook pauses when they move through a chamber that served as a workshop for Zara’s tormented creations. She examines the evidence strewn across tables, a strained expression on her face. “Wait… Were they torturing demons? How? Why?”

“They didn’t all start out as demons. Zara made sure they ended up that way.” Lucanis states bluntly. The blood stains would explain his point well enough.

“Zara?” Rook hasn’t looked away from the workbenches.

“Zara Renata. There might be a higher-ranking Venatori somewhere, but I don’t know of one. This place is all her.”

Rook stares solemnly at the tables a moment longer. The stillest Lucanis has seen her yet, like the suddenly smooth surface of a lake that normally ripples with currents. Abruptly, she turns her attention to the Venatori crystals blocking their path. She smashes them, her mouth set in a harsh line, her eyes gleaming with a stony anger. A dam broken, an undulating eddy of motion as she cuts through the Ossuary.

“Corpses possessed by demons. Watch out.” Harding warns, nodding to the undead shambling up the path ahead.

“Zara Renata’s work. This place exists just for her to make new, worse kinds of demons.”

“I think I’d very much like to meet this Zara. Show her some of my work.” Rook watches the undead as they take a diverging path around. Attention snapping away as she states, “Venatori ahead.”

“Mine.” Lucanis steps up, determined to take his pay in blood today. Rook makes space for him. More blood mages crawl out of their rat holes behind them. “Mierda. These guys. Let me hit him first, then you can take him down.”

“With pleasure,” Rook hums beside him. They fall into sync again, Lucanis’ pulse racing with the adrenaline of long overdue kills.

Rook steps over the corpses of the dead Venatori and Harding quickens her pace to walk alongside Rook. “Rook. You sure about this? Abominations…” Harding's tone conveys her feelings on abominations.

“We made a deal with the Crows to bring him back. And don't forget that it's gods we're up against.”

“Right. Well, abominations never end well. Just remember I warned you.”

Rook doesn't respond. Lucanis grits his teeth at the way they discuss him as if he's not here. One thing he can say he knows about Rook now though, is that she will complete her contracts– regardless of what she finds on the other end of it.

The ground shakes beneath them and a macing creak echoes through the Ossuary, stopping them in their tracks.

“I don’t like this!” Harding exclaims.

Rook has her arms held out at her sides, steadying her feet. “Can’t say I’m a fan either.”

Lucanis watches a stream of water trickle down a wall. “We may not have much time.”

They reach a chasm where a bridge must have once been. Rook stares frustratedly at the open air they need to cross. “Damn it, there’s no path through here.”

I. Can make. A path. From the Fade. The demon speaks in Lucanis’ head.

“What?” Lucanis forgets that speaking out loud will draw attention.

Let. Me. Pull from the Fade.

“What are you-” NOW, Spite yells. “Fine.”

“What is it?” Rook asks, considering him with a softness in her eyes.

“He says he can get us across.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Rook leans slightly to the side to peer around Lucanis, eyes flicking back to him in question.

“The demon. He says there’s something here. Something he can grab hold of in the Fade. It’s close.”

“By all means.” Rook waves her hand and stands aside, looking distinctly unmoved by the fact that Lucanis has just confirmed speaking to a demon inside his head.

Lucanis allows Spite just enough rein to reach out. He’s shocked when the demon’s magic manifests an entire chunk of stone as a makeshift bridge for them.

“Wow.” The awe in Rook’s voice mirrors his own. “The demon pulled all of that from the Fade?”

“I’m as surprised as you.” Lucanis tries not to think too much about all the demon could do if left unchecked.

They enter another workshop area where Venatori mages and demons brawl.

“They’re fighting? But the Venatori made all these monsters, didn’t they?” Harding asks.

“Blood mages. They never learn. Zara can summon all the demons she wants, but they don’t have to obey her.”

“And it doesn't look like they plan to,” Rook quips before plunging into the fray.

The ghost of a smile flutters across Lucanis' lips before he charges after her.

Rook rolls her head side to side, stretching out her neck after the last blood mage– the Fabricator, Lucanis recalls their moniker– drops to the ground, lifeless. “What did Zara want all these undead for?”

“Nothing. Those are the failures.” So many failures. Lucanis' stomach turns at the innocent life lost within these damp halls. He may not be innocent, but he lost life here too.

“If those are the failures, what does success look like?” Rook questions.

“She took the ‘best’ results out a few days ago. But some of the demons she created are still here.”

“Calivan. You said he’s the one in charge?” Rook pauses her exit from the room to look back at him.

Lucanis shakes his head. “No. He’s a lackey. He runs this place for a powerful magister. He was my target a year ago. Now we both want him dead.” Again, Lucanis feels compelled not to hide what he is now. It almost feels like he's challenging her. This Rook says she needs him to fight elven gods, says she's here to bring him home. But what home could a demon-possessed assassin hope to have? The fighting he could do, but he would have her clear about what exactly it is she's bringing back to Treviso.

“‘We’” meaning…?” Rook trails off expectantly.

“Demons don’t forgive.”

Rook’s eyes roam over him. “Neither do Crows.” She pivots, resuming her quick, sure pace.

They draw nearer the chamber with Lucanis’ blood vial. “We're getting close.”

“How are we supposed to find this thing?” Harding asks him.

“I know it’s here. We can smell it.” The thing lurking within him has heightened his senses.

Entering into an expansive room, Lucanis identifies that the vial of his blood is locked behind a Venatori crystal ward. He informs Rook.

“If I never see another Venatori crystal…” Rook says darkly. She immediately begins to wind through the room, smashing crystals with a swipe of her staff. Lucanis gets the impression that she is not a very patient person. He imagines that it has probably earned her reprimand in House de Riva. No Talon would allow actions borne of recklessness, but especially Viago.

In the center of the room are more tables strewn with corpses.

“Look at what's left of these people… they were tortured. What a terrible way to die.” Harding shakes her head.

“Very few people survive Calivan’s ‘rehabilitation.’”

“You did.” Rook says simply.

Lucanis peeks at her, but she continues her prowl around the room, hunting for crystals.

Rook smashes the last crystal warding the room. She sweeps out a hand in a grand gesture to Lucanis, bowing slightly at her waist. There is a mischief about her that again has Lucanis' lips twitching on the hint of a smile, such a strange feeling after a year of only horrors.

Lucanis’ eyes lock onto the blood vial at the far end of the chamber. “There. That’s the one. It has to be.”

Rook’s graceful steps lead her to the container. Lucanis joins her. She looks at him, shrugs, then shatters the vial with her magic. “All right then, that’s done. Now for our contract.” Lucanis doesn’t miss the way she says ‘our’ contract. Since she appeared before him, she has been fully committed to assisting him. She hasn’t questioned his motives or monitored him out of the corner of her eye like Harding does. Is she reckless? Or has he simply earned her trust so easily because he is a fellow Crow? And not just any Crow. Lucanis is well aware of the weighty pull associated with the House of the First Talon, House Dellamorte.

Lucanis guides them through the Ossuary’s halls to its heart– where he believes the warden to keep office. His fingers itch to put a blade through Calivan’s heart. They reach a lift, filing inside.

Harding again voices her concerns in a low, warning tone. “Rook…” The two must know each other well for Harding need not say more to express her thoughts to Rook.

“It’s us against gods Harding-”

Lucanis doesn’t particularly want to hear what Rook will say next so he interrupts. “I am right here, you know.”

“It’s fine. We can talk about something else.” Rook shoots a pointed glance at Harding. “What’s Caterina like?”

Lucanis is surprised by the question, even more surprised that he doesn’t know how to answer it. “After so long in this pit… I barely remember.”

“You’ve been down here for a year?” Rook cranes her neck to speak to him behind her. Her braids slide against her leathers.

“Mmm,” Lucanis grunts in response. What else is there to say?

“Is there anything we need to know about Calivan?” Harding asks.

“You want to hear about his torture methods or something else? We didn’t chat.”

“He might be turning those torture methods on us very soon, so,” Rook’s shoulders shrug noncommittally. She doesn’t rise to Lucanis’ spiteful bait tossed at Harding, though Harding glowers at him.

The lift stutters to a halt and they are emptied into a cavernous room.

A voice echoes across the space as they step fully inside.

“Ugh, this was entirely unnecessary. Zara and her little jests. ‘He’s already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won't this be ironic?’” The man scoffs. “Hilarious. And now look at the mess you’ve made of my facility. She always leaves me to clean up.”

“So this is Calivan.” Rook sounds unimpressed.

“He is.” Lucanis confirms. “The target I was sent for a year ago. A Crow never abandons a contract.” His fingers tighten around his blade, well, Rook’s blade. He looks forward to reuniting with some of his own.

Rook calls out. “Calivan! We’ll help you with the clean up. I think we’ll start by taking out the trash.” A vicious smile twists her lips and then she strikes.

Lucanis falls into the rhythm of the fight. A dawning awareness crests over him that if he is to continue working with Rook, he may have to get used to racing into battle after her. He might be more disgruntled about it if she didn’t wield herself so masterfully.

Lucanis ignores the savage jabs Calivan attempts to distract him with. What words could hurt him more than the horror of having a demon possession forced upon him?

Rook, on the other hand, grows increasingly annoyed with Calivan’s incessant insults– despite none of them being directed at her. Upon realizing the need to destroy the barrier protecting Calivan and beginning their coordinated efforts to do so, the prison warden screams at Lucanis, “You will return to your chains!”

Rook snarls as she toils to bring down the barrier. “Ma halam! You will return to dust!”

Calivan’s barrier falls and his enraged shouts summon a flood of demons to the chamber. Rook meets Calivan’s rage blow for blow. And despite Harding’s obvious misgivings about him, she too fights fiercely. When a Pride demon stands before them, they do not falter.

Calivan’s desperation grows as he weakens and their group gains ground. “No! I will not be defeated!”

“Sorry! We took a vote-” Rook snaps between swings of her staff. “-decided you die today! I’m sure you understand. Being an arrogant prick and all!” Spite guffaws against his skull and a grim satisfaction grips Lucanis. He’s never been particularly crafty with his words and finds that he relishes Rook’s lashing tongue.

With a final blast of Rook’s magic and Lucanis’ blade through his chest, Calivan is no more.

Lucanis releases a long held breath as he stands over his contract. “The Crows send their regards.”

Rook breathes deeply beside him, tucking her staff at her back. “So, we got your target.”

“Yes. The job’s done.” Lucanis has waited so long to say that.

Beside him, Spite inhales. Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet.

Lucanis grinds his teeth, staring hard at the demonic manifestation. He must not hear Rook attempting to get his attention.

“Lucanis… Are you all right? Lucanis? What are you looking at?”

When Lucanis finally registers Rook’s question, he turns to her. She is watching him, head tilted inquisitively at an angle.

Careful. They know. We’re not right.

Lucanis looks back to Spite, then at Rook. “You cannot see him. I wondered.” So, the disturbing likeness of Lucanis that the demon manifested as was only visible to him it seemed. Mierda. Was that a gift or a curse?

Rook’s head is still tilted at him. Her eyes shift from Lucanis to the vacant air beside him where Spite stands hidden from her sight. But she doesn’t look afraid nor concerned. “We clearly have things to discuss. Somewhere else.”

Harding nods vigorously.

“Agreed. I think…it’s time I got some air.” Lucanis feels a nervous thrill run through him at the thought.

Rook offers him a small smile. “Agreed. A Crow underwater… “ A shiver runs through her. “No thank you. I’m ready to get out of this place.”

Lucanis returns her smile, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. He cannot recall the last time he used them. “Imagine how I feel.”

***

The boat glides through the canals of Treviso. Lucanis' heart is in his throat as his city unfolds around him. He had been so close this whole time… He looks back to the rest of the boat's occupants and discovers Rook already watching him.

She smiles, gentle and friendly. “Welcome home.”

The first warmth Lucanis has felt since being locked in the Ossuary floods through him. Home.

They climb the steps to the Canatori diamond and he knows from the tense set of Rook's shoulders that he's not alone in sensing something is wrong. Rook glances at him, eyes tight with worry. He gives her a sharp nod.

Teia’s voice reaches his ears first. “Maker…”

Lucanis steps into a mess of a room. Broken furniture, strewn papers. Viago notices them first.

“Lucanis?” The Fifth Talon’s eyes flick over him and then to Rook at his side. Viago's clenched fists relax.

“What happened here?” Lucanis has never seen the Diamond so disheveled.

Illario slams his fist on a table. “A message. From Zara Renata.” His anger softens as he adds, “I can't believe it. You're home.”

Lucanis can't reconcile Illario's former words. “Zara… Her people got this close?”

“The woman who runs the prison?” Rook looks up at him for confirmation.

“The Venatori witch who captured me.”

“Revenge for the breakout, maybe?” The skepticism in Rook's tone matches Lucanis' own. How could Zara have moved so quickly?

“Where's Caterina?” Lucanis searches the faces in the room, but finds his grandmother's missing. His stomach roils with apprehension.

“She's…” Teia bows her head, her voice thick with emotion.

Viago steps up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulder. “The Venatori got her in the confusion.”

“I get one of you back, only to lose the other.” Illario sighs.

His grandmother… the mighty, unshakeable First Talon… no, it could not be.

Rook's tender voice at his elbow grounds him. “Lucanis… I'm so sorry.”

Lucanis is grateful for her simple words, spoken with earnestness. Her presence also reminds him of Caterina's last request of him. “I need to work.”

“Are you sure?” Concern squeezes Teia’s eyes. “You should take some time.”

“I don't need time– I need a target,” Lucanis says harshly.

His cousin addresses him. “You just got here, and already you want to leave again?”

Lucanis meets Illario's eyes, willing his brethren to understand. “Caterina gave me a contract. I'm not breaking the last deal she ever made. And I owe Rook. Once that's done… I'll come home.” If his home would still have him, when they learned what he has become.

“I'll return him in one piece.” Rook tells Illario. She sounds as though she wholeheartedly believes it, that she will act as a protector to the, now literal, Demon of Vyrantium. This Crow is a peculiar one.

“Thank you.” Illario inclines his head towards Rook. Then says to Lucanis, “Cousin, when you find Zara, I want– I need– to be there.”

Viago interjects. “We’re under attack. Antaam on one side and now Venatori on the other? Forget revenge, we need you-”

Teia stops him with firm words. “No, Viago. Zara came for us here. She took Caterina from my house. You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis. VI and I will hold down the fort.”

“I'll give her your regards, Teia.”

Teia lifts her chin. “For Caterina.” A chorus of “for Caterina” sounds around the room. Teia's eyes drop to Rook. “And you be careful. Or this one-” A nod towards Viago. “-will lose his head over revenge, whether he admits it or not.”

Viago huffs but doesn't deny Teia's words. “Do not make a mess of this contract,” he throws at Rook.

Rook rolls her eyes at the Fifth Talon. Lucanis’ eyes widen at the sight and he waits for Viago’s reprimand but it never comes. “Yes, Viago.” Rook’s tone borders on disrespectful, but still Viago does not react. Lucanis stares between the Fifth Talon and Rook in confusion.

Viago scowls at Rook momentarily, then directs his frown at Lucanis. His mouth opens like he’s going to say something to him. Instead he glares at Rook one more time, his mouth clamping shut in a hard line before shaking his head and walking away. Teia smiles at Rook before following Viago.

Lucanis very much wants to ask Rook what vital piece of information he’s missing that allowed her to walk away from that interaction unscathed, but Rook’s already moving away. “Let’s go. It’s time for you to meet everyone else.”

***

Lucanis isn’t sure what to make of the Lighthouse. The eluvians were a fascinating bit of magic and the Crossroads were downright bizarre. There’s a confounding peace about the Lighthouse, but Lucanis does not trust a place borne of the Fade. Spite is far less wary, seemingly comforted by the closeness of the Fade– if a demon could even be comforted.

Lucanis’ introductions to the rest of Rook’s team had been made and he had, predictably, been met with skeptical looks and guarded expressions. Bellara– the Veil Jumper and ancient elven artifact expert– seems the least distrusting of him. Her and Neve– a Shadow Dragon detective from Minrathous– sit at the large dining table behind him discussing his possession. Lucanis leans against the fireplace mantel, staring into the crackling flames.

“They’re the same thing. Mostly. Kind of.” Bellara is explaining.

“Except one will manipulate you. Or kill you. Or both.” Neve replies.

“But how do you get rid of them?” Lucanis attempts to not sound as frustrated as he feels.

“Um…” Bellara’s hands flutter against the table. Lucanis suspects he already knows the only answer the Veil Jumper will be knowledgeable of. He’d come to the same conclusion himself while locked in the depths of the Ossuary.

“What’s everyone talking about?” Rook draws his attention– and the demon’s, he notes with interest– as she enters the dining hall.

“Spite.” Lucanis answers through clenched teeth.

“The demon in Lucanis.” Neve clarifies. “When a person gets possessed, the demon usually takes control.”

“And they turn into a monster. The spirit just…molds them. However they want.” Bellara adds.

“I’ve heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That’s not a sure bet, though.” Spite bristles at Neve��s words.

“Well, there’s one way. But it’s..well…we’d have to, um…” Bellara stammers nervously.

“You’d have to kill me.” Lucanis finishes.

“There’s got to be another way. That can’t be the only solution.” Rook’s hands come to rest on her hips and an unyielding glint sparks in her eye. She looks as if she dares the world to disagree with her declaration. “Can’t we reason with Spite, maybe? Persuade it to leave?” Spite perks up at Rook’s question.

Lucanis gapes at the Crow mage who wants to have a chat with a demon. “Talk doesn’t work on Spite.” As the words leave his lips, Lucanis beholds with horror Spite manifesting beside Rook. He has never had to deal with the reality of Spite around other people and fear freezes him in place.

Spite leers at Rook, a scathing smile on his face. She won’t hurt you. How sweet. The demon’s derision drips through his sentence like honey, sticking unpleasantly to Lucanis’ skin.

No. Not sweet, dangerous. Lucanis stares into the determination solidified in Rook’s eyes. Very dangerous. If this partnership is to work, he needs Rook to be willing to stop him. Spite moves to Lucanis’ side and he tears his gaze away from Rook in relief.

I want to talk to them. Spite demands. Lucanis ignores the demon.

Bellara goes on. “Before we do, well, that. Let’s think this through some more. There has to be a solution.”

“I have people in Minrathous I can ask, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Rook nods at Neve. “All right. So what’s next?” Rook asks the room at large.

Spite growls in frustration. Let me talk to them! I want. To. Talk. To Rook! Spite lashes out in Lucanis’ mind and his head cracks to the side. He feels blood wet his nose and he grunts in pain.

“Lucanis!” Bellara exclaims as she and Neve spring out of their seats.

Lucanis holds up a hand to them. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Rook’s fists are curled at her sides. “Don’t pretend this is all right. It wouldn’t be fine if another person did it.”

She’s angry for him, Lucanis registers. He softens at this. “No, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If it were another person, I could solve this with a knife.”

“Why did he do that?” She asks.

Lucanis will absolutely not tell her that the demon wishes to speak with her. His skin crawls at the familiar way Spite said Rook’s name. The demon has never said anyone's name before, not even Lucanis’. “Throwing a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Perhaps he needs to learn what happens to Crows who throw tantrums,” she threatens.

Lucanis smiles. “I would prefer not to relive those lessons.” Rook’s closed fists loosen. “Just… give me a minute. He’ll get bored once everyone leaves.”

Rook’s eyes jump back and forth between his own. “I don’t like leaving you alone with a demon. I…”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lucanis reassures her, though he’s not sure it’s entirely true.

“Lucanis..”

“Please.” He needs to get her– and everyone else– away from Spite until the demon calms down.

Rook nods and gathers the others to leave.

As the door to the dining hall falls shut behind them, Lucanis addresses Spite. “You’re not speaking to any of them so forget about it.”

Rook. Wanted to. Talk. To me!

There’s her name again. It grates on Lucanis’ nerves. “Yes. To ask you to leave.” Lucanis spits.

Spite hisses, but falls silent. Lucanis closes his eyes, the fire in the hearth warming his eyelids. It’s true. Rook had thought to reason with a demon on his behalf. Lucanis sighs, peeling his weary eyes open. He heads towards a door at the back of the dining hall, opening it to find a long, narrow pantry. Oddly, a cot is already tucked into the far corner. Lucanis sinks onto it, letting his head rest against the stone wall at his back.

Rook will have questions for him eventually. But for now, he soaks in the fact that she respected his request, that she trusted him enough to leave him alone. He mulls over his own questions of what that could mean for a man who has truly become a demon.

~~~

Next → CH 2: Questions & Coffee

#rookanis #rook x lucanis #lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte #rook #rook dragon age #lucanis #dragon age lucanis #lucanis romance #rookanis fanfiction #rookanis fic #lucanis fanfiction #lucanis fic #datv #datv fanfic #a sea of crows

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romanreignsbae · 9 months ago

Text

I’ll help you - R.R

Me and my boyfriend Joe of 2 years now have always supported eachother no matter the circumstances. More recently Joe's schedule has been hectic as ever, because football season has started and he has a minor problem consuming him.

Since he came into college on a full ride scholarship for football this doesn't mean grades don't matter. He's an student athlete so his grades are always took into consideration before football.

Me and him have basically have all our classes together. In one class specifically, he's been struggling and is on the verge of failing, if his grade goes any lower, he will be taken off the football team until it goes back up and he can't have that.

We have a test in 2 days that's worth enough to bring his mark back up, so here I am in our dorm room trying to help him study.

I'm explaining the question thoroughly to make sure he understands. "So, Joe do you get it?" I ask him. I get no response so I look up at him seeing he's staring at me in awe. He then keeps eye contact while pushing my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. I blush profusely.

"Your so gorgeous baby, you know that" he talks in low voice while questioning me. But no- I can't fall for this right now.

"No Joe don't try to sweet talk your way outta this, you gotta get your grade up otherwise you won't be able to play" I remind him. He groans loudly before throwing his head back clearly annoyed.

I don't blame him because this is a pretty hard class, even for me. "C'mon Joe-" I get cut off with lips being smashed onto mines.

I try to pull away but he only deepens the kiss. I decide to let him get everything outta him, before I lecture him a little. He pulls away smiling at me with a proud look on his face. He reaches out and runs his finger over my now bruised bottom lip.

"Joe now seriously let's do a few more questions…then we can lay down and take a nap together" I try to compromise.

"Alright fine" he replies. What takes about 30 minutes we get through about 4 questions and I can see Joe's kinda starting to get the hang of it.

"Can we finally lay down?!” he pleads me in a whiny voice.

I nod my head and leads me to our bed. I lay down on my back and he crawls on top of me, laying his head on my chest. I start running my hands through his hair and within a few minutes I hear light snores. Before I know it I feel myself falling into a deep sleep too.

I wake up the next morning and get ready for my first class. I always wake up earlier then Joe because I like a fresh start to my day. I usually wake Joe up around 15 minutes before we leave cause he barely takes any time to get ready.

We get through all our classes and before we know it, it's break. Me and Joe hold hands walking through the courtyard. Usually during break we just sit under a tree and chill. I read occasionally if he wants to throw a football around with his friends. But it's rare cause he claims he would rather spend his time with me.

We place ourselves down under the big tree that gives a shadow to block the sun. I open my book bag and pull out the text books we need for him to study.

"Babyyyy nooo, not during break" he whines. I try not to giggle at his tone.

"Yes Joe, you have a practice that runs late tonight, when you get home your not gonna wanna study and the test is tomorrow, so you need to study" I explain.

He surprisingly complies and nods while he leans his head onto my shoulder.

"Ok so I'm gonna give you a few practice questions, and if you need help wait until the end, I want you to try these yourself at first" I announce.

I grab my notebook and write out a few questions. I hand the book over to him and I see him writing. A few minutes later he hands me back the notebook.

He had a confident look on his face and I hate to burst his bubble but these were all wrong. "Joe sweetie, these are wrong, but you got all the steps right, your just rushing the end" I exclaim.

He's truly so smart he just needs to try harder, and if he did I'm confident he would be doing phenomenal in all his classes.

"I know, I just don't have any motivation for this type stuff" he tells me. He leans forward and tries to give me a kiss. I back away and he groans.

"Y/n baby, please let me kiss you" he begs. A idea then pops into my head.

"Okay Joe, how bout every question you get right, you get a kiss, but… don't rush otherwise you won't get one" I compromise to him.

His eyes light up. He shoots up and sits up straight. "Yeah yeah lets do that, gimme some questions" he says almost excitedly. I laugh at his excitement.

I hand him the notebook and this time he takes about 20 minutes, I calmly read waiting for him.

I look over the answers and squeal. "Yes Joe! These are all right! I'm so proud of you, your gonna do great on the test" I exclaim.

He smiles at me proudly "that's because I have the best tutor" he tells me. He then quickly pulls me by my sweater and smashes his lips onto mine. We share a mini makeout session, until I feel my head throbbing in pain.

I quickly pull away and keep my eyes shut, the pain is so bad. "Hey! What the fuck man! Why the fuck would you do that" I hear Joe yelling.

I open my eyes and see that a football is right beside me. Great. I've had a football thrown at my head.

"Owww" I whine out while trying to contain myself from crying.

Joe collects all my books and puts them into my bag, he then picks me up and I nuzzle my face into his neck, his cologne calming and distracting me from the pain.

When he stops walking I open my eyes to see we are in the nurses office. Joe explains what happend to me to the nurse.

She quickly tests me out. "Ok well, it's not a concussion, but I suggest you rest now, stay home from school tomorrow and go back if you feel right" she tells me.

I thank her and we leave, while we walk to our dorm room, Joe's shit talking the guy who through the football at me, and about how he's gonna beat him up during practice.

When we get back Joe lays me down on our bed and gets a ice pack placing it on my head.

"I'm gonna stay here, instead of go to practice today" he lets me know.

I feel guilt wash over me. "No no, go Joe I'll be alright" I try to convince him. He doesn't budge at all though and pulls me onto his chest.

The rest of the night we spend cuddled up in our bed watching movies and order takeout.

The next morning I wake up before Joe per usual and decided I don't feel good enough to go to school. I wake up Joe and inform him he needs to get ready, but I'll be staying here.

He offers to stay with me, but I protest since he has that test today.

"Your gonna do great baby, just remember take your time and double check your answers." I tell him.

When it's time for him to go he kisses me softly before asking if I need anything before he leaves, which i refuse to.

I spend my day reading a book I've needed to get to, I took the opportunity since I had nothing better to do.

I look at the time and see Joe should be back any minute. While I'm finishing the book I hear the door slam open. I turn to my side to see Joe with a massive smile on his face.

"Baby, baby! Look what I got on the test" he practically yells. He walks over to me and sticks his hand out. I take the paper from him to see '93%' bolded in red in the corner of the page.

"Joe, you did it! I knew you could do it! I'm so proud of you!" I tell him excitedly.

The rest of the night is a calm night, I decide I need some fresh air so I sit on the bleachers reading during Joe's practice. And we spend our night embraced in each other's arms.

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cosmicaces · 7 months ago

Text

i've never been good at writing intros to posts and that isn't gonna change today, esp since only a handful of people are probably gonna read this. i am making this post for me, because this is something i noticed and i wanna talk about it. leave it to me to make a detailed post about a character from a movie from three years ago.

rody has pstd! let's talk about it

[ID: A screenshot from MHA: World Heroes' Mission. Rody is pointing at Deku, winking. Deku looks annoyed. End ID.]

to preface this:

i am not a professional 👍 i have ptsd 👍

analyzing characters is fun for me! this is how i am interpreting rody with what i know about him from the little media he's been in + some additional speculation. feel free to incorporate this into your belief system. or not! all that i ask is that you bear with me.

now, before i get into it (preface...2!):

everyone knows about fight or flight, right? well, did you know that there are actually 5 trauma responses? fight, flight, freeze, fawn, and flop. (there may be more, but these are the ones that have the most information on them.)

fight and flight are the body's primary responses to a bad situation. freeze, fawn, and flop are more complex responses that happen when the first two aren't available. little self-explanatory, but for the sake of infodumping:

freeze: the body is in a state of hyperarousal. the muscles are tight and ready for action but is ultimately paralyzed. think of a deer in headlights.

fawn/befriend/submit: this response involves complying/befriending the aggressor; people-pleasing in an effort to remain safe. this is more common in cases of abuse.

flop/shutdown/collapse: the body is in a state of hypoarousal, aka its shutting down; muscles go slack, brain stops receiving sensory info. this can often result in fainting. you know how some people faint when they see blood? or when they're on a rollercoaster? yeah, it's this.

it's important to have this context. as a matter of fact, you probably already know where i'm going with this:

rody faints when deku is climbing up the bridge. of course, right? he had reached such a heightened level of fear that, when his brain realized it couldn't trigger one of the other four responses, he just... flopped. why bring this up? well, and i think this is easy to miss, but rody didn't pass out once. he actually passed out twice.

when they first reached the train, it appears that, in their brief moment of safety, rody had collapsed.

[ID: Deku picks up Rody to shield him from Beros's oncoming arrow attack. End ID.]

[ID: Deku is carrying Rody, swinging under the bridge in an effort to evade Beros's attacks. At the end, Rody appears as though he is coming to. End ID.]

up until this point, rody had been freaking out during their escape from the police. for him to have no initial response to being physically moved by deku... hell, he looks like he's just coming to. if we're going based off of the dub, he even yells "what's happening?!" simply put: he shut down and, more specifically, he shut down in what had been perceived as a moment of respite.

the reason i point this out is because, while we don't choose our trauma responses, there are events that can impact what they can be.

so... what is the purpose of the flop response?

quoting from an article here, but it's thought to help people in three different ways: to reduce the mental impact of the circumstances, to cause a physical disconnect (thus experiencing the trauma less directly), and to prevent additional assault.

the point i'm trying to make here is, well...

[ID: A flashback showing Rody protecting his siblings. A villain strikes him with a pipe. End ID.]

rody's been assaulted! and this is only one instance that we know of. we don't fully know what he's had to go through when providing for his siblings, but there is no doubt that there have been negative repercussions on his mentality.

did you notice how he startles easily?

[ID: Rody puts his hand on Deku's shoulder, scaring him. His response startles Rody, causing him to flinch backwards. End ID.]

[ID: Bakugou suddenly appears behind Rody, causing him to jump. He flinches back, turning to face him. Pino is also startled, flying to sit over on his other shoulder. End ID.]

with ptsd, some people can develop an exaggerated startle response. this happens when your nervous system gets stuck in survival mode. your brain is hypervigilant; any sudden sound or movement that you don't expect can make you feel like you're in danger and your body has to be ready to react in a given moment.

look at the difference between how deku and rody flinch. deku has a standard flinch, but rody violently flinches, almost as though he's been struck. do you see how he moves his head? his arms? how, after both instances, he's starting to sweat? yeah 👍

continuing along this line of thinking, let's talk about rody's attempted betrayal.

[ID: Rody being approached by the oni villain. He braces himself for the attack, clutching at his head. End ID.]

i feel like most people, when cornered and under the imminent threat of being attacked, try to block it or defend from it in some way. rody... didn't do that. as a matter of fact, it looks like he's trying to hide.

[ID: Deku runs towards Rody, shielding him from an arrow. Rody panics and turns away. End ID.]

additionally, in this scene, rody is apologizing. in this moment, he sincerely believed that deku was going to hurt him for his betrayal. instead of trying to run, he just... froze. braced himself again. i know he was very scared, but, despite deku having just saved him, seeing his fear at being approached... psychologically, there's something else going on here.

i think rody had been re-traumatized.

again, we only have that one flashback regarding a violent encounter with villains, but i genuinely have reason to believe that it wasn't a one-off scenario. the only reason rody tried to fight was to defend his siblings. they are his reason for continuing forward. but... what if there were times when they weren't there? and he had to face the villains by himself?

... yeah. i think that's why he responded the specific way that he did. his life was actively in danger, yes, but how many times had he been in that position? pleading, trying to garner sympathy about his siblings, wanting to be let go? i think the severity of his psychological distress in that instant is what caused him to try and hide rather than attempt to minimize any incoming damage.

as for feeling threatened by deku, that can be easily explained, too. rody talked quite a bit about betrayal, it seemed like a very natural thing to talk about. he's probably had to betray some villains and gotten hurt for it. honestly, you could probably argue that this contributed to his confusion regarding deku protecting him instead.

similarly with starting posts, i am also very bad at ending them 👍

tldr; rody soul has ptsd as a result of his encounters with villains after his father's disappearance. this has given him an exaggerated startle response as well as both a freeze/collapse response in times where his life is threatened. who knows what other symptoms he may have! what we can say for sure is that this kid needs therapy.

if you read all this, thanks! i hope you enjoyed me dissecting him like a bug.

#cosmic chatter #rody soul #bnha #mha #my hero academia #character analysis #blorbo tag #does a kickflip #rody 🤝 hunter: traumatized 16 yr olds who have a little bird #cw eyestrain #for the gifs. super cannot forget that

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noise-misato-boy-destroyer · 22 days ago

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when i see u and other transfems who are cool and hot it makes me want to kill myself because i dont know how to be like that and idk what to do about it

i know you'll say shit like 'oh just strive to be the person u wanna be/be yourself/estrogen' etcb ut it doesnt feel like enough

Okay sooooo unfortunately for us broken dolls even getting to where I am won't make those thoughts go away, I still deal with them constantly because there's always a doll out there that'll give you that much dysphoria and gender envy and also life is terrifying but I promise promise promise it's light years better than anything I ever went through pretransition.

I couldn't act like myself in the beginning either because until you get like six months in you may not know who you even are yet, personally I emulated a bunch of girls I looked up to until I found myself n then as it turns out I wasn't too different from them to begin with. There's gonna be struggling, there's gonna be tears, you're gonna wonder why you did this and if it was even worth. This isn't easy by any definition of the word even under the best circumstances, but it's so far beyond anything I could have dreamed that I can't imagine going back. Again, it WILL be hard, there's just no way around that. I think of it like a pact with the devil; there will be a price but the rewards... Oh babygirl the rewards are worth every dysphoric sob session and every second guess and then some.

Don't get discouraged looking at dolls like me either because literally you can just be one, all the makeup looks you need are on here, all the fashion inspo, the community, the attitudes. Girl you're literally at the gender store right now, what looks good to you? I had a bunch of dolls tagged with like a fashion inspo tag for months before I finally took my first steps and that really helped me to find who I wanted to be.

Oh and estrogen will absolutely drive you crazy btw especially if you're already in this mental state, those first six months are a nightmare lowkey. I wouldn't have been able to transition without the support of the community on here.

People aren't just shitposting when they talk about how we're capable of anything. You gotta give yourself more credit <3

#i know it's just words but i hope this helps even a little bit <3

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chaotic-archaeologist · 2 months ago

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I saw a thing that was ask a doctor? So imma ask you somethin. Uh- so I've had a sore throat for a few days and I just suddenly got lightheaded. Google says strep. I'm very worried now but the thing is- I REALLLY don't wanna tell my mom. What do I do?

I am not a doctor. I am a graduate student pursuing a PhD in archaeology, so even if I was a doctor, I couldn't help you. I am also just a random guy on the internet, and though I sometimes refer to myself as everyone's internet brother, there are certain matters that you shouldn't entrust to someone you do not know. Your health is one of them.

Like I said, I'm not a doctor, but I can tell you exactly what a medical doctor would tell you if you had asked them:

You need to seek treatment with an in person medical professional.

Doctors cannot treat people over the internet unless it is under the very specific circumstances of an authorized telehealth platform. Even then, there are certain conditions that cannot be assessed without an in person medical exam. It is also illegal for doctors to provide medical advice online.

Strep is a bacterial infection caused by Streptococcus pyogenes, which is diagnosed by doing a throat swab to detect the bacteria. If left untreated, the infection of some strains of this bacteria can progress to scarlet fever, which is a more severe illness that can lead to permanent health problems affecting heart, joints, nervous system and skin.

Strep is also highly treatable with antibiotics, which can only be prescribed by a medical doctor following a positive strep test. By avoiding medical treatment, you also avoid the possible treatment and open yourself up to potential complications.

You may also not have strep. The internet cannot provide an accurate diagnosis. Google, WebMD, or any sort of AI are not substitutes for the appropriate diagnostic processes and the assessment of a trained professional.

I understand that there may be any number of reasons why you don't want to tell your parents. Unfortunately, one of the important parts of becoming an adult who is in charge of their own body is to make choices to take care of said body, even if those choices make you uncomfortable.

Barring any sort of unsafe home situation you do not mention in your ask, the most responsible thing to do is to tell your parents how you've been feeling and ask them to help you get yourself to the doctor. Alternatively, if you are living in an unsafe home environment, you can look for places that provide healthcare to at-risk youth, generally at low to no cost.

You need to see a doctor so they can determine what condition you do actually have and then inform you of the appropriate next steps to treat your illness.

-Reid

#he speaks #I am not a doctor and I cannot give you medical advice #real doctors still cannot legally give you medical advice on tumblr dot com #please go see a doctor

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helluva-squid · 2 months ago

Text

Okay I also wanna talk about Octavia because there are some... wild takes about her floating around.

I am an afab person who (surprise, surprise) has father-related trauma. It's not the same dynamic as Stolas and Octavia, but the end result was that I moved as far away as I could as soon as I was able and overall limited how much I saw and interacted with him. As I got older, though, I could better understand how a lot of my dad's behavior was the result of his own (unresolved) mental illnesses and generational trauma. It didn't mean I automatically owed him forgiveness, nor did it make what he did (and continues to do) any less painful. Part of healing from parental trauma is finding the balance between acknowledging the very real damage inflicted on you by someone who was supposed to be your guardian, and the grace and understanding that comes from eventually being able to see your parents as people who were just doing what they could with the shitty circumstances they found themselves in. It's one of the hardest things to learn - you can hold both of these thoughts at the same time, and one doesn't cancel out the other.

My relationship with my dad has improved a little over the years. I do still have to hold him firmly at arm's length, but at least having the perspective to understand why he acts the way he does has helped me to take it as less of a personal failing. Octavia is 17 years old, which is an age where you still see your parents more as Caregiver and less as A Whole Person. As the viewers, we know that Stolas did the best he could for Octavia - we know he loves her more than anything. We know that Stolas was put in an impossible position, too. His choices were essentially to save the person he loves and lose everything else, or let Blitz die and live the rest of his life under the control of Stella and Andrealphus. But it was still a choice he made, and the consequence of that choice was that Stolas effectively abandoned her, no matter how much he didn't actually want that. Octavia still loves her dad, wouldn't let her uncle hurt him, but either way she feels like he chose Blitz over her.

I'm pretty hopeful that as Octavia understands more about her father as a person - how deeply unhappy he was, both as a closeted gay man and as someone trapped in what was pretty clearly an abusive marriage - she will find it in her heart to forgive him. Stolas is, at the core of it, a good father, just caught up in really awful circumstances. But she also needs some time to be angry and hurt. Eventually I think we will get that beautiful vision Blitz had of the four of them as a blended family, but I don't think it's reasonable for Octavia to just Get Over It straight away.

Anyway, I have been surprised at some of the takes I've seen because I really thought it was a very grounded portrayal of familial trauma and mental illness. I love both Stolas and Octavia a lot as characters and I am really really REALLY looking forward to some step-dad Blitz in the future.

#helluva boss #helluva boss season 2 #stolas #octavia #idk how to tag this #just my thots

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usmsgutterson · 3 months ago

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We Could Leave The Christmas Lights Up Til January - S.R x reader

I am typing this authors note and feeling like the friend who's like "ITS CHRISTMAS" from the like. middle of the month forward when I'm actually the friend who reminds you how close it is to christmas or the new year bc I don't want to face that knowledge by myself and suffer well with others.

This was written as a through-the-years style fic. It'll have fifteen chapters which will correspond with the og fifteen seasons of criminal minds (I have not watched seasons sixteen or seventeen, please do not judge me lol) and three scenes per chapter, one set in November, one set on or around Christmas, and the last set at some point after it. The reader is also a fiber artist but if stuff relating to that comes up, I will make a note of whichever terms I need to.

Fic type - this is largely fluff!

Warnings - the reader in this has a slightly similar, but also somewhat dramatized version of my family dynamics bc I wrote this whenever the knit projects I was working on frustrated me and when writing the dynamics it just HAPPENED, but then I edited it so that the dynamics wouldn't hit SUPER HARD if I ever reread it. Otherwise, booze is mentioned a bit, and there is swearing present bc I apparently am incapable of writing a fic without dropping an f'bomb.

When you leave the office that night, it's half-past seven on a Friday in November. You and the rest of the team have the weekend off, and while Penelope and the others had gone out for drinks, you'd gotten back from a case in Miami that morning and had said no to the offer when she'd made it.

You had really just wanted to get home, if you were being honest. You told her you couldn't swing it because of plans already made with someone else, but Garcia didn't need to know that those plans were a glass of wine, Loops 'N Threads Classic Cotton and a crochet hook to work up some dishcloths in lieu of anything too expensive for your aunts christmas gift, or that the someone else you had plans with was your DVR so that you could catch up on the five episodes of Prison Break you'd missed because of the way that cases and work had been piling up.

She also didn't need to know that the wine your mother had given you would have a spot, or that after you were caught up with Prison Break you'd probably order and eat your way through an entire pizza from Antonios while watching a documentary about lemon sharks. Your Friday nights were your own, and even though you adored everyone on the team, you would seldom give up your Friday night ritual of doing a craft while watching whichever cable TV you needed to catch up on or whichever one the network of your choice had been running a marathon of, even if giving it up meant giving up dinner, drinks, and laughter amongst yourself and the rest of the team.

So, as you and Spencer are heading out—Spencer had declined Penelopes offer but hadn't specified his reasons as to why—he looks at you with a knowing sort of smile.

"Crocheting and Antonios?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

You nod once, lips pursing just a little while you mentally ready yourself for any oncoming judgement. "Mhm," you nod. "I have a bottle of red I wanna drink, so it'll be a tipsy crocheting night, I think."

"That sounds fun," he says. "Enjoy it."

"What're your plans for the night?" You ask. You've been with the team since six months after Spencer had joined up. You'd joined, under Hotch's wing, at the age of nineteen where Spencer had joined up under Gideons when he was twenty.

He shrugs. "I was thinking about calling my mom, seeing how she's doing," he says. "I try to call her at least once every so often and I do my best to write, but—it's just—"

"Maintaining those kinds of relationships isn't that easy," you nod. "I mean—my parents just live in my hometown so the circumstances are different, but I get it, even if it's to a lesser degree."

You don't really talk to your parents, and they don't really talk to you, and it's been that way since you went to the FBI Academy when you were eighteen. You came to DC after being hired by the BAU and they stayed in Maine, and things have been like that in the five years since you left the state.

"Your mom came around recently, right?"

You nod. "She was in town for a bit, but she came down while we were working on a case so I only got to see her a few times before she was heading back to Maine." She'd come up at the start of October, while you were working a case out of state, and she'd left six days after you'd returned from the case. In that time, you'd seen her at breakfast, lunch and dinner on three separate days. She'd left you the wine as a gift because she hated red and needed to pass it off, but you loved red wine so it was fine.

"Was it a good visit?"

"It was—well—it was fine," you laugh.

"That's the nicest way to put it?"

"Calling it fine is me being stellar," you laugh again. "Being kind, being gratiuitous, even. It was less than fine, but it could've been worse, and other visits of hers have been by miles."

Your relationship with your mother has been somewhat contentious since you were a teen, but she comes down once every few months and unless a case or something better comes up, you usually try to book Christmas off to spend it with your parents and sisters in Maine. This year, a bigger part of you than not is hoping that Christmas is disrupted by a case somewhere completely out of Maines reach, like Nevada or California or even the likes of Alaska, which has got to be some snowy hellstorm in the wintertime, though you can't say.

"You gonna go down for Christmas?" Spencer asks, laughing a little. He knows some of what your relationships with your family are like—knows that you and your mother have a difficult time finding common ground, knows that you and your father don't get along but have found some weird little middleground where you can exist without screaming at each other. He knows that you and your older sister are sort of friendly but only really mildly close, and that you and your other older sister don't talk often and see each other even less than the sparing conversations you have throughout the year—and he always looks at you kind of pitifully when your mother gets brought into the conversation, but there's been less and less pity as the years have passed, more sympathy.

"I don't want to," you laugh. "I really, really hope we get a case in Nevada or somewhere that even my mother wouldn't be able to justify asking me to drive down to Maine from. Like—I'd love it if we got a case in Alaska the day before Christmas Eve, honestly. I know it's not gonna happen, but—Christmas with them, my aunt, and my uncle? No. I can't subject myself to that without a whole lot of booze."

Spencer laughs, shakes his head a little bit. "You'll be fine," he says. "I won't hope that a case comes up at Christmas, but if one does, I'll buy you a victory tea."

"Why?"

"Because I know you love your family—you're hardwired to love them—but you hate Christmas with them, and I don't really like the thought of you being where you don't want to be because of family ties and guilt."

You laugh. "If it gets too dreary, promise you'll answer my call?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "Of course, but what if I call you first?"

"I will answer so quick," you laugh again, shrugging. "Seriously. Whether it's you or Hotch, I will take literally any excuse I can get to slip out from whichever room I'm in to the back porch just so I can talk to someone who isn't my aunt for a few minutes."

"Looking forward to that," Spencer says.

You smile, turning away as you do to hide it. It feels like an awesome ending to a mediocre day and you're grateful for that.

When your phone rings at five o'clock something along the lines of five weeks later, it's Christmas Eve. You've spent the last couple of hours alternating between cheap screw top rose and a jack and coke, occasionally swapping both options out for a hot chocolate that you spike with kahlua and a splash of baileys, and when your phone rings, the sound of it is a welcome reprieve.

You tuck a mug of boozed up hot cocoa into your right hand, answering the phone with your left as you dismiss yourself out to the back porch, standing amidst snow that's, by that point, a couple days old. A fresh coat is due to fall any day now, but by the time it does you'll probably already be back in DC.

"Hey," you greet. "How's Christmas on your end?"

"It's good," Spencer answers. "How is it on yours?"

"It's amazing."

"You've been drinking?"

"Jack Daniels, cheap rose, and the occasional spiked hot chocolate," you laugh a little. "It's making everyone more tolerable."

"Thats good," Spencer says. "Don't forget to drink water, though. It'll make you less hungover tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," you nod. "I've drank plenty of water—hangover headaches are fuckin' awful, and I don't feel like dealing with that tomorrow morning. A headache on top of dealing with my aunt? I couldn't put myself through that kind of torture."

"How've things been with you and your mom?"

"So far I haven't done anything to piss her off yet, which is surprising," you laugh. "Normally she's leaping down my throat the second I do something like use a tone that she thinks is amiss or defend my dad where she doesn't agree with him. I'll say something stupid and she'll yell at me before midnight though, I'm sure."

"Try to be a little optimistic," Spencer says. "I mean—just—take it easy. Don't do anything too nuts, okay? I know you well enough to know you have Prison Break on one of the DVRs in that house, and I also know that you know your own limits. Don't push yourself past them."

"I won't," you say. You know yourself well enough to know that you're probably lying, but you brought your needles and a skein of yarn so worst case you can just knit and keep your mouth shut, hopefully not miscounting any of your stitches in your drunken state. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I get in around ten on boxing day too, so—coffee?"

"Coffee," Spencer says. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Spencer," you respond, hanging up the phone thereafter. You stay outside for another few minutes, drinking your hot chocolate, watching the sky and prolonging the time between then and your next interactions with your relatives.

Eventually, when you go back in, you're met with a sly look from your aunt and a suspicious look in your mothers eyes, while your father and uncle chat about current events and your sisters are busy in a game of Uno.

"You got a boyfriend?" Your aunt asks, her smile cheeky.

You grimace. "No!" You say, beelining for the kitchen and the bottle of Barefoot brand zinfandel. "No—it's—it isn't like that. A friend had planned to call and I didn't say no."

"Oooh, a friend," your mother teases. "That's quite vague, Y/N."

You nod, finishing the last sip of hot chocolate in your mug and rinsing it out, setting it in your favored corner of the kitchen counter and reaching for the wine glass you'd left in that same area.

"Intentionally so," you laugh. "You two are so nosy. I love you both to bits and pieces, but—it's not anything like what you're thinking. The friend is a coworker."

You reach for the bottle of zinfandel and pour an amount that just barely skirts the edge of avoiding being obscene, putting the cap back on and leaving it on the counter along with the rest of the alcoholic companions that will reside on the countertop until at some point tomorrow, when the drinks are switched out from booze and beer to soda and water.

"You two will be an item in five years, I guarantee it," your aunt says. "Seriously. You don't be vague about someone with your family unless there are feelings there, Y/N."

You laugh a little more, taking a sip of your wine and debating rummaging through the fridge to find the brownies that you'd hidden in the back of the fridge for when the drunken cravings kicked in.

"I've been vague with you people about women coworkers," you retort. "I've been vague about mentors who are older than Dad. I'm vague about lots of things."

"You should open up," your uncle says. "Nobody likes a closed off little snowflake who wants to appear mysterious."

"Trust is earned," the older of your two sisters retorts. "You have to trust people to want to open up to them."

"Do you not trust us?" Your mother asks, looking at you with pain in her eyes.

Not like I did when I was a kid, you think. "I do! I just—work life and family life are two separate things to me. If I were as open as you guys want me to be, telling you work stories and funny office anecdotes, you'd all want to hear less about my job."

"Being an FBI agent can't be that hard," your uncle retorts.

"You say that as a man who's never watched someone you love like a sibling get shot at," you retort. "You've never seen someones body missing parts, or seen someone who narrowly evaded a serial killer shaking with grief and with survivors guilt already starting to manifest. I love you all, but not one of you understands what it's like, and I wouldn't wish you did across a thousand lifetimes."

Nobody knows what to say, but the look in your eldest sisters eyes is clear—she's proud.

"Well maybe you should work in a different area," your aunt says.

"I wouldn't trade my job or my coworkers for anything," you respond. "The plus sides make up for the drawbacks tenfold."

Things go a little quiet after that, and you eventually grab the bottle of Zinfandel and retreat back out to the back porch, not caring how cold it is.

You stare at the sky for ages, drinking your way through the entire bottle of zinfandel as you do. You're half asleep when your phone rings again, and you pick it up as you make back inside, figuring the rest of your family had gone to bed as well.

"Hey," Spencer greets. "Just calling to check in again."

"Hi," you respond. "Everyone else has gone to sleep, I think—nobody is in the kitchen or the living room, and if I don't hit the hay I'll be dead on my feet tomorrow morning."

"Do you have any sports drinks around?" Spencer asks. "The elctrolytes in them will help replenish the potassium and the salt that you lose after a lot of drinking. Bouillion soup also serves the same purpose, and water is basically universally known as the one thing you should consistently drink between alcoholic beverages."

"My mother gets a twelve pack of the fruit punch Gatorade, puts it in the fridge and normally will make the drunkest of us chug a bottle before we conk out, so I'm gonna grab one and then chug it and head to bed. Thank you for calling to check in, Spencer. It means a lot."

You head for the fridge and keep to your word, opening it and grabbing one of the gatorades.

"It's no problem," Spencer says. "I've know you—how long now?"

"Four entire years," you laugh, closing the fridge and pressing your forehead against the metal door of the freezer on top of it. "Oh, God. Four years of working at the BAU. That is a surefire way to make me feel old."

"How old do you think you'll feel when you've been working there for a decade?"

"Absolutely, positively, ancient," you say. "Oh my God—thirty three? That is not an age I can picture. Asking me to picture that while I'm drunk feels like such a low blow, Reid."

"How about twenty-eight?"

"I'm starting to think you just like the sound of my voice," you retort, laughing a little as you compose yourself just enough to turn your phone onto speaker and set it on the counter. You lean against the counter and take the screw top off of your gatorade, sighing a little. "Are you asking me if I have a five year plan, Dr. Reid?"

"Yeah," he says. "Yes is the answer to both your statement and your question."

"Well, in five years, I'll be twenty-eight," you start. "I'd like it very much if I were still on the team, and if I am, that means nine years at the BAU. I'm going to get better at knitting and finally stop knitting things for people who don't offer to buy the yarn or otherwise compensate, I think. I make things free for ungrateful people too often. Maybe even adopt a kitten or take in a shelter dog. Fuck—Reid, I can't really even decide what I'm going to do in the next five minutes, let alone the next five years."

You chug the gatorade as you think about it—a bigger apartment would be nice, one that's closer to work would be nicer still. One with a good view of the city, maybe a library or a liquor store within walking distance, if not a Michaels or a Joanns.

You've always been more of a cat person but you have a ridiculously insurmountable softspot for greyhounds and pitbulls, so if you thought you could take in an animal in the coming years, you would have the knowledge and the background to give them a good home.

You'd maybe want to change up your hair color, if the drunken opportunity presented itself. A change in appearance feels like the sort of thing a person finds necessary at the age of twenty four, in the last year before the brain fully develops and stuff starts changing bit by bit.

"I think I'll still be on the team," Spencer says. "I know it. I love what we get to do everyday, Y/N. Helping people? Saving lives? We do good. We're good people."

"What else do you think about the next five years?" You ask, your voice quiet.

"I think I'll still be living in my same apartment, and that I'll still bicker and get into prank wars with Morgan," Spencer says. "I think I'll still play chess against Gideon on the jet home, and I'll still love to learn anything I can. I know for sure I'm still going to be trying to get you to watch Dr. Who with me, though I hope you agree to watch it after five years of attempts at cajoling you to."

You laugh, and the air takes on a somber kind of tone. "Maybe," you say. "Not likely, but maybe, Reid. Look—I'm going to go to bed so that I can just deal with tomorrows probable hangover head on, but thank you for calling me not once, but twice tonight. I really needed some company that wasn't a little bit of an asshole."

"Yeah, of course," Spencer says. "I—well—merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Spencer," is how you bid him adieu, hanging up the phone thereafter. You throw the gatorade bottle into the recycling and head off to the room you'd claimed, turning the tv onto a low volume and falling asleep with The Muppet Christmas Carol beginning to play in the background.

"How was everyones Christmas?" Garcia asks, practically buzzing with excitement as she comes out into the bullpen. Spencer is leaning against your desk, the two of you talking about nothing in particular when she comes around, and Garcia looks at you with a happy grin. "How was Maine?"

"It was Maine," you shrug. "Snowed. A lot. In turn, everyone in my family drank. A lot."

"Oh," Garcia shakes her head. "Too many people and too much booze is God awful."

You shrug. "My parents, my sisters, and my aunt and my uncle hardly felt like too many," you say. "And the amount of booze in which I indulged hardly felt like too much."

"You had a lot," Spencer retorts, looking at you skeptically. "I got a text Christmas morning, if memory serves—"

"A text to thank you for being so nice," You fire back, cutting him off. "Totally not asking you for hangover cures. I would never."

Spencer shakes his head, laughing slightly. You grin, taking a sip of the tea he'd brought you that morning.

"Yeah," he says. "I didn't get a text asking for the ultimate hangover cure-all. I guess I must've remembered it wrong."

Your grin widens, and you nod. "Guess so. How were things with your Mom?"

"They were great," Spencer says. "I had a good time."

"I'm glad," you respond. "Your mother sounds pleasant."

"She is," Spencer nods. "I'd hate to spend more than an hour with yours though."

"She's comin' here in June," you fire back, leaning back in your chair as your grin morphs from grin to smirk. "Be careful for the next six months, Reid, or I'll invite you to dinner with her, myself, and my father."

"That sounds like some form of mideval torture," Derek fires, laughing. Spencer shakes his head.

"Not if Y/Ns there," he murmurs. You take another sip of your tea to avoid seeming flustered to the rest of the team, and Spencer sighs when JJ comes around. You sit up in your chair, already anticipating her next words.

"We have a case," she says. "A series of deaths in Witchita. Briefing room in ten!"

You and Spencer exchange a look. There are only a few days left of it, but it looks like the last of 2005 is due to be a whirlwind.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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i love the pumpkin decor from anura and the skulls from silk cradle !! even though its not even close to halloween,,,(its always in my heart lmao) i was thinking about bishops (+narinder and/or labert, if your up for it) platonically with a child! black cat reader (who is kind of like in the spooky month skid and pump mindset LOL, but the town they grew up in, possibly outside the lands of the old faith, is very halloween-centered)

i hope this isnt too specific !!

Don't worry, Halloween's ALWAYS in my heart haha. I love those decorations too! And the ones from the blood moon ritual. Can't wait for that event again

.........

Heket

With pumpkin patches flourishing in her domain, it only makes sense for her to have celebrations and rituals surrounding the harvest season.

Yet she knows nothing of this "Halloween" you've rambled on about to her followers, nor why you became so excited upon discovering that Anura's environment reflects the autumn season.

That's because the town you're from is centered entirely around the holiday, with you living among ghouls, skeletons, demons, crows, and (of course) other black cats.

To you, every day is Halloween and you're loud and proud about it!

You introduced the idea of jack o'lanterns to Heket when she discovers you carving a pumpkin, sticking a candle inside after you gutted the entire crop, much to her confusion and annoyance.

"You there..why do you waste precious food?" She accuses, but you're completely oblivious to her anger.

"Where I come from, we always carve pumpkins! And we make cool things like this!" You show her your finished product: a Yellow Crown carved onto the face of the pumpkin. "I offer this to you, Lady Heket."

"I see, but...what am I to do with it?"

"You put it outside your home to ward off scary spirits! Like those who wanna wilt the crops!"

She had her doubts about these traditions of yours, but she grows to like this "jack of lantern" and puts it into effect almost immediately.

More followers join in, learning how to carve their own pumpkins and place them outside their homes.

It actually gives the incredibly superstitious and paranoid some comfort that they won't be haunted or plagued by negative spirits/energy.

Heket made a point to allow an overabundance of pumpkin patches during Halloween season so there's enough for both food and carving.

She also discovers people are willing to pay for the best-looking ones, so she allows the elders to run stands by the fields and make some coin.

Ofc, a good chunk of the profits go directly to her.

Shamura

Skull piles and skeletal decorations are commonplace in Silk Cradle, being trophies of wars and intimidating those who dared wander into their domain--grim reminders that it could be their own skull next.

You, however, find them nonthreatening as you've had similar decor back in your little town of Halloween (/ref).

Fake or not, you loved them all the same (plus the cobwebs, even though most are just part of the natural environment) and had to ask Shamura if Halloween was celebrated all year here, too.

Although their brain struggles to recollect things, they have books on holidays and their ancient origins..so they are aware it exists.

But it's not one they ever cared to implement.

Nevertheless, they permit you to decorate your home to your heart's content with whatever skulls and bundles of silk you found--as well as pumpkins shipped from Anura.

They're nicer to you bc you remind them of Narinder back in his youth, fascinated with the spooky and the taboo.

All the giant axe traps and toxic pits scattered throughout Silk Cradle never bothered you, as you've seen them back in the spooky dungeons of your hometown.

Usually the resident bugs would freak out any newcomer shelling in new traditions..but Shamura told them that you, specifically, are not to be harmed under any circumstance and that they allowed this.

You've actually befriended Hauras, sewing them a spidery Halloween cape for them in place of the gray rags they wore.

They wear it with pride to every sermon from there on, not caring who judges.

Kallamar

This bishop's paranoia is a force to be reckoned with.

Even if one hapless follower said the words "red crown" in any context, he'll strike them down for "preaching heresy". He's easily scared of the taboo and misfortune falling into his realm.

So Halloween is definitely the last thing he wants to hear about, especially with its association of black cats (who are in turn associated with bad luck and Narinder).

He keeps trying to shoo you away when you try explaining that's a common myth.

If he sees you using bones and skulls as decorations, he feels sick to his stomach and orders you to take them down.

Those can be used to forge weapons or intimidate potential dissenters! They're not yours to keep!!

Yet you never listen, oblivious to his demands as you try telling him they're harmless.

Would he ever punish you for disobeying with sickness or sacrifice?

No...or at least not at this stage in your life.

That would damage his already-fragile reputation as a leader even further.

But if you grew up into an elder and continued with these "twisted traditions", however, he'd punish you as retribution for the "torment" you've brought upon him.

He just wishes you'd follow his ways and his ways alone.

Fortunately for you, that retribution never comes as he's brought into Lamb's cult during your teen years...with you keeping the Halloween tradition alive and well.

And Kallamar has a more open mind now, although he's still easily spooked by the decor Lamb brings out during the Blood Moon Festival.

The first time he partakes in it, someone pranked him with a fake ear and it traumatized him so bad he cried and hid inside his shelter.

But you comforted him, forgoing the festivities and sharing your candy until he was okay.

You just show him how to carve a jack o'lantern for the remainder of the night, and he's in awe as it glows.

Every year since, Halloween becomes less and less scary for him--and it's all ironically thanks to you.

Leshy

As a young bishop, he's open to ideas for traditions, holidays, etc. for his followers to enjoy.

So when little kitty cat you hailing from a distant land of Halloween propose celebrating it...he's all for it!

The only problem is, well, his sight.

With the Green Crown, he can see the general forms of followers, his siblings, and most structures within Darkwood, but he wouldn't be able to see the tiny details that gave Halloween its magic.

But you explained how you could go for bigger and brighter things. Like jack o'lanterns (made of both pumpkins and turnips) and skulls of giant beasts!

He approves of it and lets you lead in decorating the village nearest to his temple.

Followers initially questioned why they had to listen to a child, of all folks, but they're grateful it's something genuinely fun.

From your town, you've also brought scented candles to really enhance everybody's spooky spirit.

Especially for your Lord Leshy, who finds the smells delightful.

The pumpkin spice ends up becoming his favorite.

You've got him completely fixated on this event.

Plus it's a good opportunity for chaos to reign: with followers pranking one other and scaring each other half to death, dressing up like ghouls and skeletons.

The Bonfire Ritual is one Leshy likes to conduct to boost both his strength and cult morale (he's gotta benefit from all of this somehow too, of course).

Lamb

Not only did Lamb's cult know about Halloween...but they also celebrated it with the Blood Moon Festival.

You fully participated in the ritual every year, rushing outside just in time to see the moon turn blood-red and the sky darken for several days.

The ghosts of deceased followers usually terrified the living, yet you greeted all of them with smiles, waving goodbye as Lamb exorcised them with their book.

Crows, cattle skeletons, and even demons flocked to the cult as well, having been residents of your hometown, too.

And the decorations?????

You were obsessed and jumping for joy, wanting to decorate your little shelter and help everybody else with theirs!

And of course you participated in the many activities going on, including bonfire rituals, apple bobbing, and passing out soul cakes (yep you had a recipe for that from your hometown, too).

One year, Webber showed up and was initially scared since everyone was just staring at them and the spiders scattered around their feet..

But you greeted them warmly, showing them around the cult grounds and what the festival was all about.

Lamb themselves is impressed.

You're only half the age of most of their followers, yet you're active and very responsible (although only if your tasks have anything to do with Halloween).

So as a gift, they bless you with a jack o'lantern necklace. Not only does it light up at night, but its magical properties allowed you to lift up any pumpkin no matter its size with ease!

You vow to carve the biggest jack o'lantern the Old Faith's ever seen.

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #bishop heket #bishop shamura #bishop leshy #bishop kallamar #cotl lamb #child reader #cat reader #platonic #headcanons #halloween

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 11 months ago

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what was jk’s initial reaction to the revelation? Like after oc went outside to cool off and he was left with Jared and Jina. Did he tell them off? I really wanted to see what he would tell Jared since he was apperantly giving him the stink eye for a while now

"Jina" I call after her as I watch her stalking towards Jared as he walks back into the house after chasing y/n. "What?" she spits out, whipping her head back around to face me.

"Wanna try that again?" I ask, cocking a brow at her and she stiffens after realizing what she had done. "I'm sorry dad I just...well Jared he-" "What were you thinking Jina? Sneaking around with your best friend's boyfriend? Oh I'm sorry her fiancé" I say, throwing it back at her again to instill further guilt. "I raised you better than this and you know that" I growl out, trying to keep my anger at bay.

"How could you do this? Y/n was your first and from what I can see only true friend you've had since we moved here. Why would you do something that cruel?" I ask, clearly not understanding how my own daughter could cause someone that we both care about such heartbreak.

"I don't know dad it just happened okay. There's nothing I can do about it now so can we just drop it already?" she says, her head on a swivel, no doubt looking for where Jared had disappeared to. "No we can't just drop it. I expect to see you and Jared in my study. Now!" I bark out and her whole body stiffens in fear before running off to find him.

~~~~

I hear a faint knock at the door and grant them entry without even glancing up.

"You wanted to see us?" Jared asks with that all to familiar arrogant tone. "Sit" I bark out and they both take a seat at the two chairs I have placed in front of my desk. I stand up and glare down at Jared thinking about how easy it would be to snap his neck right now.

He's been a thorn in my side ever since Jina brought him and y/n over to the house for the first time and I've been waiting for the day I could put him in place. Although I wish it was under different circumstances.

His gaze always full of lust towards both of them when they weren't looking but oh how I saw it. I saw it every damn time and I kept my mouth shut mistakenly thinking that my daughter would stay as far away from him in terms of anything more than a platonic friendship and even that had me grinding my teeth at the thought.

"You're lucky you're not six feet under for what you did to y/n and Jina" I growl at him, holding myself back from hurting him. "Are you serious? She came onto me" he claims but I know without even looking at Jina that it's a lie.

"Oh yeah and so I guess you really don't have much of a brain if you couldn't tell her no or get her off of you. Or did you even try?" I add, cocking my head, cracking my neck in the process to gain some form of relief from the stiffness that come over me after I heard those devastating words leave y/n's mouth.

"Right" I say, filling up the silence Jared had left, all of us knowing he would be lying if he said otherwise. I take a deep breath before turning my back to them to compose myself before saying another word.

"I'm keeping the baby dad" she says, making the choice I was sure she would've made anyway, at least this way one less person has to suffer. Life might've been seen as being 'better' if she had taken the easy way out but we all know that we would've felt their absence everyday if she had.

"Did he force himself on you?" I ask her, not daring to look him in the eye otherwise I might snap. "Are you seriously asking if I raped her?" Jared says, getting up out of his chair and after that I'm at my limit and loom over him and look him dead in the eye, this time asking him the question since he so eagerly jumped in before she could answer.

"Yeah Jared I am. Did you rape my daughter" I growl out, praying to anyone who might hear me that the answer is no. "No I didn't fucking rape her" he grits his teeth and flares his nostrils, clearly trying and failing to intimidate me.

"He got me drunk dad but I said yes" Jina admits to me and before Jared gets whatever insult that had been bubbling in his throat out my fist collides with his face, leaving him falling to the floor and coughing back the pain from the blow.

"Fuck" he groans out as he staggers up to his feet.

"If I catch you anywhere near this house. If I see you touching either one of them I will gut you from the inside out you hear me?" I bark out at him and he flinches back at the volume, now knowing that violence is not beneath me when it comes to my girls.

"Yes sir" he says, hissing at the sting of his busted lip. "Get the hell out of my sight" I say and turn my back to him again and hear him stalk out of my office and out the front door.

"Dad why-" "Why did I what? Punch the guy who got my daughter vulnerable enough to be able to convince her to have sex with him and is now pregnant with his baby? Are you really asking me why I did that?" I scoff and she tries to speak again but I cut her off before she can say anything else.

"How long?" I question, waiting for the answer and dreading the number. "Wha-" "How long have you been sleeping with him Jina for fucks sake just answer the question" I shout and watch her cower back into her chair.

"Why are you talking to me like this? You've never yelled at me before" she asks, making my heart break as I see glimpses of the broken little girl I know she hides inside of her but not letting up because I know she needs discipline and not sympathy right now.

"How, long?" I say again, emphasizing each word. "Six months" she whispers out, cringing at revealing the shameful amount of time they had spent together. "How far along are you?" I question, this time a bit gentler. "Two months" she says even quieter than the last.

"Do you have a doctor?" I question, wanting to make sure that she and the baby are being looked after properly. "Not yet" she says hanging her head, finally letting her shame consume her entire being. "Get one and tell me the name so I can cover the costs" I say, my back turned to her, trying to withhold that part of me that wants to hold her and tell her everything is going to be okay. But she fucked up, and she deserves to feel the guilt and the shame of her actions for a while now that it's out in the open.

"Dad I can-" "This isn't open for discussion Jina. Find a doctor and send me their information or I will find one for you myself. Now leave, I don't want you coming back here until I say so" I say, keeping my voice as level as I can.

"But dad I-" "No Jina, go. We'll discuss this later" I say, leaving the room before I have a chance to lose my resolve and go to the nearest bedroom to calm down before seeing the rest of our lingering guests out.

~~~~~

Hope this answered your question hehe

Thanks for the ask love 🥰

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