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diejager · 2 years ago

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BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy.

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog.

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard.

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making.

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you.

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities.

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet.

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves.

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent.

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier.

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect.

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you.

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier.

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family.

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did?

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls.

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries.

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him.

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation.

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König.

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp.

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close.

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them.

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it.

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials.

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no?

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world.

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you.

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature.

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words.

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness.

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin.

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch.

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise.

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess.

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics.

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies.

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores.

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you.

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety.

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions.

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

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lov3lybarista · 2 months ago

Text

𝑪𝒉. 1 𝑽𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒓

Wattpad: lov3lybarista

Pairing: Professor Cillian Murphy x OC

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 3.3k+

Masterlist.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ Song: In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier

The morning of the first day of the semester began more gray than usual. The end of August had begun its slow tumble into a humid fall, and the air in the Thornebridge woods was cool enough to sting the lungs. Cillian Murphy stood silent before the tall window in his dim bedroom. The fabric of his white button-up was crisp against his skin, and his fingers rolled the cufflinks absentmindedly.

His dog, a retired German shepherd, slept curled at the center of the dark navy rug in his room. The cat, like always, sat perched on his vanity like a gargoyle, watching the mist curl out from the forest with his orange tail swishing in contempt.

The house next door to his has sat empty since he first moved in three years ago, not like he cared much for neighbors. Though in the mornings he would often watch it, the ivy climbing higher up its stone walls with every day that passed, the garden continuing to overflow.

But not anymore. He stepped out onto the balcony, the air coating his skin in prickles, the feeling of something different hung like an omen around him.

There.

Through the archway of now trimmed hedges and climbing blood roses, where the iron gate remained locked to separate, she stood like a vision from a dream. She was near the middle of the now perfectly reawakened garden, still as stone, a camera balanced delicately in her hands like it was an extension of her being.

On the edge of the tall, dark fence, a raven sat perched, its feathers gleaming like spilled oil, slick with morning mist. She observed, waited, then clicked until the camera shuttered the image of the raven into something eternal.

The woman wore a deep violet top, cropped slightly at the end just enough to reveal the toned elegance of the bottom half of her navel, her skin smooth, somehow shining with an olive undertone like she was angel made flesh and not human. Dark-washed jeans hugged her hips and legs, with deep golden stitching, something vintage, maybe, clearly expensive. Her heeled boots were leather and black like the bag she had hung over one shoulder, slouching like it carried its own secrets.

She stared down at her camera for a long moment, silently judging if the picture was well enough to keep. Then she looked up.

Her gaze met his without hesitation. Her eyes were like an arctic glacier, iron gray—the same shade that painted the sky this eerie morning. It wasn't bold or shy, just present and startling him enough to make his heart thump faster in his chest. Her skin glowed against the chocolate brown shade of her hair, long and styled like she was some runaway model off of a 90s runway that his mother used to point out whenever it was broadcast on television.

She didn't smile, and yet something sweet lingered in her presence—something that was unmistakably kind, gentle, feminine.

He should have looked away, but he couldn't. He usually would have. Yet this time, he held her gaze, composed as his brooding allowed, and gave a silent nod.

She didn't return it.

She turned on her heels, unbothered, and disappeared through the arch like a dream fading into the depths of sleep. He stood there silent for a long moment after, his cufflinks still not yet all the way buttoned.

"Shit," he whispered finally, quietly, to no one in particular, not even the cat.

And with that, he gathered himself together to where his leather briefcase waited, and left to begin the first day of the semester.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Room 113 of the Winston Hall smelled of cedarwood and paper, the lingering of leather from lined bookshelves dusted the edges. The walls were dark-paneled and tall, with arched windows that held historically stained glass scenes that reached towards the sky like they could clear it—yet today, they were drenched in fog. The sickly warm mist clung to the glass, collecting in falling droplets that dimmed the forest view outside.

He had made it early like he always did. It was his first seminar of The Human Condition Through Modern Tragedy, a notoriously brutal class where students either learned to grow teeth or drop it quietly by October.

Cillian stood before the class in his usual composure, pressed and buttoned into a black suit, his figure carved from the coolness of the impending storm outside. His fingers twisted a piece of chalk between their pads, the powder covering them with each passing second.

Behind him on the board, in a deliberate scratchy hand, was written:

"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing. -Socrates"

The students who sat on the dark oak benches were quiet, tense. Some stared blankly, some busied themselves with taking out electronics or paper, some both. Most looked like they had been warned before they stepped in here.

The door creaked open again, late.

It was her. The woman from the garden. She stepped in like she hadn't been late at all, not frantic nor rushed, just steady, calm. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiles, and his stomach twisted at the sliver of her perfect skin flashing beneath the deep violet of her shirt. His eyes trailed down her without meaning, the same clothes, the same chic bag that screamed sophistication and old money hidden in its depths.

Then her eyes met his—

Again, there it was, that cool gray stare. It was like cold water being poured on his skin, soft smoke that curled in the capillaries of his lungs.

Alluring, that was the word for it.

Not in the way some students had been with him in the past, no, not bold or cloying. It was odd, intimate in a way that made the air between them feel...secretive, private, sensual. Uncomfortable.

The silence filled her in as the only name that hadn't been claimed during his roll call: Aria Vanderlyn. It now echoed in his head like a warning siren.

Cillian shifted just once on his feet, his fingers tightening on the chalk, "Welcome in, Miss Vanderlyn."

She paused at the bottom of the first row, a faint smile curling her lips like she didn't know if she should play embarrassed or stick to not caring. "Sorry, I was late," she spoke for the first time. That voice—it was so low, so sweet it made the words warm with intimacy, like she was whispering a secret into his collarbone, "I got lost."

He held her gaze, she didn't drop it.

"Ah," he put on a dry tone, trying to feign his composure and hoping it wasn't showing, "The Thornebridge labyrinth claims another poor soul."

A few students let out a snicker, and someone in the back whispered something about her being "hot" under their breath. He ignored it.

He waved a hand vaguely at the front row, already regretting it as the words rolled out of his mouth, "Sit."

She moved with that odd elegance that always seemed to follow her, like she wasn't walking so much as gliding. She took the corner seat in the front row, separated enough from the others to shadow herself against the wall. It was close enough that he could see the dip of her shirt, the smooth line between her full breasts that peeked from the V-neck of that deep purple fabric. He immediately regretted catching it, his eyes darting away as she crossed her legs and adjusted her bag.

She said nothing. Looked up right at him, that same unnerving, sugary-sweet stillness.

He cleared his throat, "Right, back to what I was saying..."

He hadn't noticed the chalk he clutched had snapped in half until he went to write again.

She didn't speak again. Didn't take any notes, didn't look around.

She just watched.

The assignment was passed down the rows by the middle of the class, after his dreaded syllabus breakdown. It was meant to be simple, or so it looked on paper.

It was one paragraph. The prompt:

What story has changed you? What story has haunted you?

It was something he had typed up that morning while he waited for his coffee to brew, handed it out without much drama. But the room had gone uncomfortably still. Pens halted, whispers drifting in the air compiled of complaints.

He didn't clarify.

That was the entire point.

Now he paced the room. Slow, deliberate—weaving between dark paneled rows like a shadow, reading over some shoulders, no praise forming on his tongue, only the occasional nod or low murmur. He wasn't necessarily cruel or mean...he was just cold. The kind of cold that made students try harder to impress.

He had reached her. Aria. Tucked into the front corner, untouched by the sun that seeped through the fogged windows, her pen in hand, yes, but the space right below the question held no words.

Instead, she was sketching. Not a doodle, no, she was drawing. It was of a little girl, watching a house from the outside, through the window the shadows of a family sat having dinner. Cold and warm. Lonely and loved. The scene she rendered felt real. Private.

He stood over her shoulder, watching her silently. She felt it. Her head tilted up, slowly. Those eyes met his again, gray, wide, startled—not with fear, though. It was with that dreamlike daze she held, like she didn't realize he was real until he stepped into her space, into her sketch.

There was something so strangely sensual about it, not with purpose or coyness. Something in the way she looked up, like she was prey but unafraid, that softness clinging to her like perfume.

"You've been sidetracked," he muttered, his jaw tight as he stared down at her. He should have stepped back, he was too close.

She blinked once, the flutter of her long, dark lashes making his hands clench into a fist behind his back. She smiled just barely.

"Sorry," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. That sweet, airy lilt to her tone again, like a dream realizing it had a voice and decided to sing. "I didn't know how to put it into words."

He inhaled slowly, his mind churning hard, "You need to learn then."

She ignored his light scolding, like his cold words weren't able to pierce the dreamlike air around her. Her eyes flickered down his shirt, tracing his tie, then back up.

"Your cologne," she said gently, "it's nice."

He had paused, frozen. She wasn't flirting, not really. It was just a statement. Honest, strange, unfiltered. But from her lips, it sounded like more.

She looked back down at her paper, as if her words hadn't just tilted the world slightly off-axis.

He swallowed the burn down his throat.

"Finish the prompt," he said quietly, "learn to write instead of draw. That will be much more helpful for you in this class."

She nodded, not looking up, obedient, sweet. Like she had meant no harm at all.

He walked away too fast.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun had finally begun to dim behind the trees that lined the quiet cul-de-sac, bleeding amber light into the thick Rhode Island fog. The homes, modern but dignified in that rich old-money way, stood timeless. Brick and neutral stone, long driveways lined with hedges and trees for privacy, but not too much. Just enough to remind the others around that they weren't alone.

Cillian's sleek black BMW purred as it pulled into the dark driveway, the solar-powered lanters that lined it just now flickering on with the descent of the sun. He killed the engine, his mind slowing as the silence settled.

He stepped out just as the other car began to pull in. Her house. Sleek, black, same body trim as his, but it was a Mercedes. It slid into the driveway just a couple of feet from his, he watched behind his door like he would need it to shield him from the increase of his heart rate.

Aria stepped out, still in that same deep purple fabric and those dark jeans, her hair loose down her back like brown silk ribbons. She didn't glance at her phone or rush, not even a sigh of exhaustion. She just stepped into the quiet of the dead-end street, turning to her back seat.

She paused, though, feeling the glare of his eyes on her back like he was aiming at a target she couldn't see. She turned her head slightly, her slim shoulder curving delicately as she looked over it to watch him.

Those gray eyes again, sweet, soft, wide. Unreadable but not cold, that same look that made him breathe heavier without realizing it. It was like she saw something in him no one else had ever dared to look deep enough for; it burned.

Cillian tried for casual, nodding once at her, though the tightness in his jaw gave it away. "Evening."

"Hi," she echoed, her voice like the wind that carried a loose feather.

She turned again, returning to her task as she opened the rear door, leaning down to grab her things—her bag, a camera case.

He should have turned away before his eyes wandered. He didn't.

They strayed, catching sight of her from behind. Her jeans were fitted too well, they hugged her too right, the curve of her rear bent over into a heart shape, the flesh plush against the tight grip of the denim.

His collar felt tighter than it had all day.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He thought.

The worst part about it was that she wasn't trying; nothing about her was trying.

It was all natural, just her existing.

That fucked with him worse than flirtation. He could dismiss flirtation, he could scold it. He couldn't disapprove of her natural grace though, not her natural elegance, her beauty. It made his head throb against his skull, his chest feeling tighter with guilt, was it guilt? He didn't know, which made it worse. He wasn't used to not knowing what to do.

She straightened again, swinging her bag over her shoulder, holding her camera delicately in the crook of her arm like it was a baby. She gave him another one of those odd, too-sweet smiles before disappearing into her front door.

His hand was still clenching tightly onto the top of the car door. This was going to be a problem. A very, very bad problem.

A neighbor, a student. Brilliant, beautiful, and beyond damn strange.

It has to be a coincidence, he thought, right?

"Bloody hell."

And then he went inside, wondering if the next time he saw her, he would finally be able to breathe properly again.

He didn't see her for the rest of the week.

The evening that Saturday pressed down like a fever. The air was thick, humming with nocturnal insects just waking, the rattle of sprinklers hissing from neighboring lawns. The sun bled like lava on the horizon, a fiery orange, lighting the outline of the trees ablaze as it hid behind the woods into its descent.

Cillian had just stepped out of a shower, his navy short-sleeved shirt slipped on lazily as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He had almost convinced himself she was some fever dream conjured from fog and violet fabric.

Then the doorbell rang.

He opened it and nearly choked on his spit.

There she was, Aria, just three steps away from him. No fog now or long-sleeved violet fabric. Just sun-sheened skin and the sort of outfit someone would only wear if they've never been embarrassed in their entire life.

Small, airy pink linen shorts printed with tiny strawberries, heeled flip-flops with a rhinestoned toe-thong. An anklet wrapped around her thin bone, gold, delicate, glittering on her smooth tan skin like it was sparkling a secret to him.

It drew his eyes, flickering down to her toes that were painted a bright white. So were her fingernails, long and elegant. She wore dainty gold rings, a bracelet quietly dangling off her petite wrist.

And a fucking tank top. White, tight, no bra. The air left his lungs before he could catch it, before he could stop his eyes. Her breasts were full, falling gently with her breath, the peaks of her nipples pressing against the taut fabric, the slight rosy color bleeding through.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, look up, now, he panicked

She blinked up at him. Innocent, wide-eyed.

"Hi," she breathed, voice airy like a lullaby, "I made you cookies."

She held up a glass dish with gold metal handles, some designer brand he couldn't name if he tried. The cookies were wrapped in beige wax paper, tied with a pale pink ribbon. It looked like something you could pass in a bakery window.

He noticed right away that there was only one dish. None for any other neighbor.

Just him.

Her smile widened, as if she realized he was connecting the dots, but she didn't seem to care either.

"I consider you the only neighbor worth bribing."

He stared at the ribbon, the cookies, then back at her.

His voice was rough, rasped, "I was trying to cut back on sugar. Thanks."

She smiled sweetly, "Try to cut back another time."

Her eyes flickered past him, her neck craning delicately as she tried to look into his home. "Are your cat and dog here?"

He inhaled sharply, surprised. He stepped back out of instinct. "They're, uh...inside."

"Yay," she said, her eyes brightening. "We should have a playdate. I mean with mine. I have a cat and a dog too. I think they'd get along."

He blinked at her, trying to register her words. She was being serious. There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice, she spoke like she was a little girl asking to borrow a cup of glitter. That made it so much worse.

She took a step forward, just enough to let the smell of her perfume drift into his lungs. Light, clean. Peaches and some sort of blossom, expensive and sweet. It was so feminine it made his tongue feel heavier in his mouth, like it was a rock instead of flesh.

"Hm," she hummed, her head tilting to stare up at him, "I just wanted to say hi properly. And...your cologne?"

He froze again, his eyebrows lifting, "What about it?"

She tilted her head some more, like a cat peering up at him, "What brand is it? My dad's birthday is next week, I want to buy it for him."

What the fuck, he thought.

There was just something so wrong about the way she said it. Not really because of her voice, no—it was lovely, too lovely for him—but because it hit something feral in him. Not the mention of her father, but the thought of her thinking about it. Of her thinking about him, about the way he smelled.

He ticked his jaw side to side.

"I don't think he would like it, your father."

She frowned only for a moment, and it made his neck heat up. "Oh," she whispered softly. She smiled again after that, like she understood the joke but wasn't sure why it was funny.

She gave him the tray, her fingers curling around his unnecessarily, the touch burning and cooling at the same time.

"I'll get going now," she said, still smiling, "before your shirt takes itself off."

He parted his mouth but couldn't respond.

She turned and walked away, the soft slap of her flip-flops against the concrete, her hair flowing behind her like some fancy chocolate fountain, its ends curling gold underneath the sun's fading light.

He didn't shut the door until long after she had left. He stood there, staring down at the pretty dish in his hands.

"...What the hell is happening?"

author's note: im not going to lie, this story is a bit freakkyyyyy nastyyy. lol taglist and dms are open, comment if you want to be on taglist!! :)

#cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy oneshot #cillian murphy imagines #peaky blinders #professor x student #professor x reader #cillian imagines #cillian smut #cillian oneshots

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letthemkook · 1 month ago

Text

♡THE PANTHEON SERIES: AMORENT P.JM♡

Pairing: Eros!Jimin x Maiden OC (You as Evadne)

Theme: Divine obsession, reluctant romance, immortality vs mortality, possession disguised as affection

Genre: Dark fantasy, mythological romance, psychological drama

Warnings: Yandere behavior, emotional manipulation, divine coercion, obsession, non-graphic dubcon implications, power imbalance, eventual SMUT

Intro: He heard her song in the forest and followed, unseen. She sang for no one, yet he listened like it was a prayer. Eros does not fall — he chooses. And once chosen, she would never be free of him

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

Part 1: Of Honey and Hemlock

The forest knew her name.

It wasn’t something Evadne ever questioned—how the leaves rustled gentler when she passed, how birds would draw near instead of flee, or how the stream’s current softened whenever her bare feet touched its edge. She had grown up in these woods, tucked just beyond the olive grove that separated her tiny village from the wilder realm. And every morning, she came here to sing.

She sang as the sun kissed the branches. Songs passed down from her mother, songs in praise of Demeter and Artemis, and songs she wove herself from dreams and longing. Her voice was clear and warm, edged with a melancholy softness that made the wind forget to blow and the deer stop mid-step.

On this particular morning, Evadne’s voice lifted with a lullaby her mother used to hum when her father still carried strength in his bones.

“Mighty gods of earth and sky,

hear the cry of mortal breath,

give us peace before we die,

shield us from the arms of death…”

Her voice broke at the final note, just slightly. She clutched the fold of her dress and blinked hard. She hadn’t meant to sing that one. Not today. Not after the night her father coughed so violently the oil lamp flickered and spat its flame in fear.

Behind a column of trees, cloaked in shadow and divine silence, the god of love stood watching.

Eros had not meant to enter the mortal plane that day. He had been drifting, half-bored and petulant after a quarrel with his mother, Aphrodite. Olympus reeked of indulgence and cruelty, and he wanted none of it. He had meant to fly over the mortal world, to toy with the hearts of kings or seduce a priestess out of curiosity.

But then he had heard it.

A song, laced with ache and grace, floating across the veil between realms. It pierced him—not with one of his own arrows, but something deeper. Something older. By the time he found the source, he had shed his wings and taken on the form of a mortal man, just to approach without alarming her.

She was unlike anything he had seen. Her beauty, yes—mortals would call her breathtaking, radiant, touched by divinity. But what struck him most was her soul. It bled into her music, colored her every movement. Her sorrow wasn’t bitter. It was soft, devotional. And it made him want her in a way that felt more dangerous than any conquest.

He watched her tuck her shawl around her shoulders and make her way back toward the village, the basket on her arm empty save for a single plucked daisy. Eros followed, unseen.

Evadne didn’t know she had caught the attention of a god. She had other things to worry about.

Her father, Lysandros, lay pale and weak in the corner of their clay home. She knelt beside him, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead.

“You must stop singing in the mist,” he rasped, voice raw. “The forest will catch your voice and never give it back.”

She smiled softly. “Then at least something would remember me.”

He grunted, coughing. Evadne gently lifted his head to sip water and adjusted his blanket.

In the village, Evadne was known as the most beautiful maiden—though she hated the title. It made her a magnet for men she had no interest in. Suitors spoke her name like it was a prize, never a person. And yet none of them visited when her father fell ill. None of them stayed when she wept at the healer’s door and received only bitter herbs.

After washing the cloth, Evadne made her way to the market to purchase fruit. Her fingers brushed apricots and figs, her eyes calculating every coin. But she couldn’t move far without being stopped.

“Evadne,” crooned Theros, a butcher’s son. “You must try the honey I made.”

“No, thank you.”

“You wound me.”

Another voice—Pelios, the stonemason. “My father says you need a man to help you with your father. I am offering myself. Generously.”

“I decline. Generously.”

Their smiles twisted. Their voices sharpened.

“Think you’re too good for us?”

“She wants a prince, not a real man.”

Evadne turned her back on them. Her throat felt tight.

From a distance, leaning against a whitewashed column, Eros watched.

He saw the tilt of her chin, the stubborn grace with which she walked, the tremor in her fingertips. He wanted to scorch every man who dared speak to her that way. But she didn’t need fire yet.

She needed gentleness.

The next morning, Evadne opened her door to find a delicate silver comb resting on the threshold. It was shaped like a swan, the feathers carved so finely they caught the light like real plumage. A note, unsigned, read: For your hair, which puts the stars to shame.

She furrowed her brow and tucked the comb into a drawer without a second thought.

The next gift was a string of pearls, each one more luminous than anything found in the village market. Again, she refused it.

And again. And again.

A bracelet of sunstone. A cloak of woven crimson silk. Perfume in a glass vial that smelled like night-blooming jasmine. Each time, she returned the gift or left it untouched, confused but resolute. She did not want to owe any man anything. Not even kindness.

Eros began to ache. Not from rejection—he had never been refused anything in his immortal life—but from how carefully she guarded her heart. It made him furious at mortals. It made him ravenous.

He watched her from behind temple pillars, from treetops, from the shadows of her own home. And one day, he heard her singing again—but softer, cracked.

“If you see me, O gods above,

don’t send a prince or foolish love…

send me a cure, a drop of grace,

to keep my father in this place…”

She stopped. Her shoulders shook. And then she fell to her knees and prayed.

Eros swallowed something sharp in his throat. He had brought the wrong gifts. She didn’t want beauty or wealth. She wanted healing.

That night, he left behind a wrapped bundle of rare, enchanted root from the slopes of Mount Ida—mixed with ambrosia and fennel, known to ease fevers and slow the spread of illness. He placed it by her window with no note.

He returned, cloaked again as a mortal, to watch her reaction. But before he could see her reach the window, he heard shouting.

A man—one of the suitors from before—had cornered her behind the well.

“Stop pushing me!” she cried.

“You’ve had too many chances to be grateful!” the man snarled.

Eros saw red.

He did not draw his bow. He did not need it.

The air thickened. The earth quaked, subtly at first, then harder. The suitor’s hands flew from her arms as he stumbled back, mouth gaping in confusion. His eyes rolled back as invisible pressure crushed his chest—not enough to kill, but enough to paralyze.

“Touch her again,” Eros said, stepping forward with eyes glowing gold, “and I will reduce your name to dust.”

The man collapsed.

Evadne stared at the stranger with wide, trembling eyes. The golden shimmer in his gaze faded, replaced by something soft—concern, maybe. Or hunger disguised as affection.

She turned and ran.

He did not chase her.

But he appeared again that evening, standing at the edge of the grove with the bundle of medicine in his outstretched hand.

“You prayed,” he said, gently. “They listened.”

⸻

Evadne stared at the man in the grove.

The sun had begun to fall behind the hills, casting golden light over the olives and setting fire to the edges of his silhouette. He looked otherworldly like that—unreal, even. His dark hair caught the light like polished bronze, and his eyes, though now gentled, still flickered with something she didn’t understand.

And in his hand, the bundle of herbs.

She recognized the scent at once. Fennel, thyme, wrapped in linen with something far rarer beneath it—something resinous and sweet, like nectar and crushed laurel. She stepped closer, cautious.

“Where did you find this?” she asked, her voice low.

He smiled, but not in a way she trusted. “A place beyond your maps.”

She didn’t know whether to call him a liar or a miracle.

“You were there this morning,” she said instead, the tremble still in her voice. “You hurt that man.”

“I protected you,” he replied.

“No one asked you to.”

His expression faltered—only for a moment. “No,” he said. “But I heard you ask for help. And I answered.”

Evadne didn’t know how to respond. Her hands itched to take the medicine. She had no reason to believe it would work—but her heart told her it might. Still, this man… he made her feel like she was standing at the edge of a storm.

“Who are you?” she asked.

His smile returned, slower this time. “A friend.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Yet,” he said. Then held the bundle forward again. “Take it. For your father. No strings.”

That was a lie.

But Evadne didn’t know that yet.

She took the gift, hesitantly, her fingers brushing his. A strange warmth coiled through her wrist at the touch, like her blood had heated under her skin. She shivered and stepped back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened, not in menace but in desire. She didn’t see it—how his gaze lingered on her lips, how tightly he held his hands behind his back to stop himself from reaching out and tucking a curl behind her ear.

“You’re welcome, Evadne.”

Her breath caught. “I never told you my name.”

He tilted his head. “Didn’t you?”

And then he was gone.

⸻

The next morning, her father’s fever broke.

Evadne wept into his blanket when he opened his eyes with clarity for the first time in days. He sipped broth. He smiled. And he even joked about how she must have threatened the gods to make them listen.

She hadn’t told him where the herbs came from. Part of her didn’t want to. Part of her didn’t know how to explain.

The man—whoever he was—had vanished as mysteriously as he arrived. But she could still feel the echo of his presence in her house, like a scent that lingered too long. She hoped, selfishly, that he wouldn’t return.

He did.

That evening, she found a small box by her door. Inside, a carved figurine of Artemis in a hunting stance, flawless in detail, sculpted from ivory and set with eyes of lapis lazuli. It was beautiful. It was excessive.

And it terrified her.

She brought it back to the woods and left it where he had first appeared.

That night, she sang again—alone, or so she thought.

Behind her, Eros crouched on a branch, watching with parted lips. Her voice was softer now, less sorrowful. Still lovely. Still aching. He wanted her to sing for him alone.

He wanted—

The feeling struck him hard.

Possession.

Not the playful flirtation he felt for queens or priestesses. Not the amusement he gained from watching mortals fall in love. This was something ancient. This was claiming.

He thought of binding her wrists in silk and making her recite his name until her voice trembled. He thought of dressing her in nothing but starlight and keeping her in a temple carved from rose quartz. He thought of building a world where no man could look at her without dying for it.

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

He would wait.

For now.

⸻

Days passed.

She thought maybe he was gone for good. Life resumed its fragile rhythm. Her father healed slowly. She returned to the market, but she watched every shadow.

Eros did not appear.

He left no gifts.

But he watched.

She never saw the hawk that perched on the roof. Or the white rose that bloomed in winter behind her window. She didn’t notice how every man who spoke of her with lust fell sick for three days without explanation. She didn’t hear the whisperings of the gods growing uneasy.

Because Eros had never acted like this before.

On Olympus, Aphrodite leaned back on her throne and sipped pomegranate wine.

“You’re obsessed,” she said.

“She is mine,” Eros replied.

“Then why haven’t you taken her?”

“I want her to want me.”

Aphrodite laughed, too loudly. “Foolish boy. Love isn’t about patience. You make them want you. That’s the whole point.”

“She’s different.”

“She’s mortal.”

“She’s mine.”

Aphrodite shrugged. “Then claim her. Before someone else does.”

⸻

One night, Evadne returned home late. The market had been busy, and her father had insisted she take her time. As she climbed the steps to their home, she felt it again—that flicker of warmth, like eyes on her skin.

She turned.

He was there.

Sitting beside her door, barehanded, no gift this time. Just him. Mortal-looking. Gentle.

“You’re following me,” she said flatly.

“I never left.”

Evadne’s spine stiffened. “Then leave now.”

He didn’t.

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Not even thanks for healing your father?”

“That wasn’t you. That was the gods.”

He smiled faintly. “I am the gods.”

She froze.

Something in his voice changed. No longer playful. No longer soft. Just truth.

“Eros,” he said.

The name tasted like honey and fire in the air. Her lips parted, disbelief flickering across her face.

“You’re lying.”

“Would you rather I said I was a man, just to comfort you?”

She took a step back.

“You can’t be—”

“Why do you think your heart races when I come near?”

“It doesn’t—”

“You think I didn’t hear you sing to me?” he asked softly, stepping closer. “You called, Evadne. I listened. I always do.”

She stared at him, terrified.

“I want nothing from you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t.”

“I think,” he whispered, “you want someone to choose you. Not because you’re beautiful. But because they see you.”

He stepped closer.

“I see you.”

She bolted.

⸻

She didn’t remember how far she ran—only that her lungs burned, her sandals slipped in the dirt, and her heart thundered in her ears like war drums. Branches clawed at her arms. The forest that once knew her name now loomed like a stranger.

She stumbled over a root, fell, scraped her hands.

When she tried to rise, a hand caught hers.

“Don’t,” she gasped, struggling.

“It’s me,” came his voice, low and careful. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You already have.”

Eros knelt before her. His form blurred in the moonlight—not quite man, not quite god. There was a shimmer around his shoulders, a tension in the air like the moment before lightning.

“I told you,” he murmured. “I answered your prayer. That’s all.”

“You lied to me.”

“No,” he said. “I disguised myself. That’s not the same.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

He touched her cheek. She flinched. His brow furrowed.

“You don’t trust me yet,” he whispered. “That’s all right. You will.”

“You think you can follow me, spy on me, control my life and I’ll fall into your arms because you healed my father?”

He said nothing.

“You’re a god,” she said, voice shaking. “You could have anyone.”

“I don’t want anyone,” he said, softly, fervently. “I want you.”

“Why?”

“Because you sing like you’ve never known love,” he said. “Because you care for your father as if your own body were breaking in his place. Because you rebuff men who speak to you like you’re a trophy. Because your sadness makes even the stars grieve. I watched you, Evadne, and I felt.”

He leaned closer, his lips inches from hers.

“For the first time in centuries, I felt something I couldn’t name.”

Her voice trembled. “That’s not love.”

His eyes flickered gold again. “I am love itself. If that is not love I will rearrange the cosmos until it so.”

He reached for something behind him. A small clay pot, sealed and marked with divine script. He placed it before her on the mossy ground.

“Medicine,” he said. “Real medicine. Enough to ensure your father survives the winter.”

She stared at it.

“Take it,” he added. “There’s no catch.”

“There’s always a catch with gods.”

“Not with me,” he said. “Not with you.”

She hesitated.

He studied her expression. “You think I’m cruel.”

“I think you’re dangerous.”

“I am,” he admitted, his voice silk. “But not to you.”

She reached out with shaking hands and took the jar.

The moment her fingers brushed the cool clay, something shifted.

A tether snapped into place between them—unseen but binding. Eros felt it coil around his ribs like a ribbon. She had accepted something from him freely now. That was all the permission he needed.

He stood slowly.

“I won’t touch you again without your consent,” he said.

Evadne looked up at him warily. “Do I have your word?”

“You have more than that,” he said. “You have my oath. My vow. My obsession.”

Her blood turned cold.

He smiled, but it wasn’t warm. It was worshipful. Possessive.

“You don’t have to love me yet,” he said. “But you will.”

He stepped back, then disappeared—not walked, not turned, but simply vanished into air, his form dissolving into mist and petals of gold.

Evadne sat frozen for a long while, her hands around the medicine, her heart beating out a rhythm she didn’t understand

#bts imagines #bts #imagine #bangtan #bts updates #love #yandere #park jimin #yandere jimin #jimin imagine #bts jimin #ancient greek #greek mythology

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sakurafraise · 1 year ago

Text

🎀summer dolly essentials🎀

Everything to keep you pretty and protected!!

Self Care

• Good body and face sunscreen!! Making sure your skin is protected is the most important part of everyday!!

My face favs: Rohto Tone up UV essence skin aqua and neutrogena clear face!!Both with spf 50!!

Body favs: Coola fragrance free spf 50, kopari shimmer spf spray

Great Deodorant: Dove and Sheamoisture

Smelling Sweet

• Moisturizing body washes with pretty summer scents!! I always love to have some sort of sweet vanilla base or strawberry poundcake scent on me!! but for summer i do tend to branch out to sweet coconut or pineapple smells!!

• NO MATTER WHAT TIME OF YEAR USE A BAR SOAP FOR YOUR BASE TO ACTUALLY CLEANSE YOUR SKIN!! I love the dove sensitive skin, antibacterial, coconut, or deep moisture soap bars!!

• Post shower as soon as i turn my water off I go straight in with a body oil while my skin is still wet and let it sink in while i do my skincare!

• I always follow up with a yummy smelling lotion to make sure my skin is extra hydrated!! i love the eos vanilla cashmere lotion and the nivea vanilla lotion!!

Pretty shimmery skin

• I love wearing body shimmer year round but ESPECIALLY in the summer!! I love the bath and body works strawberry poundcake shimmer spray, the hempz spun sugar and vanilla lotion with shimmer,the tree hut vanilla body butter (which has shimmer), and the tree hut shimmer mist!!

Summer dolly makeup

I will probably end up making a separate more in depth post about this, but just some of my summer dolly makeup essentials and tips!!

• Lip scrub, lip butters and treatments, and of course flavored GLOSS!!

• pink/peachy toned blushes

• thin brows

• pink and gold shimmer highlight!

• hydrating setting spray/ facial mist!

#my post #dreamy tips #self care #dolly tips

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999vixen · 2 months ago

Note

Excuse me, do you make requests? If so, can you do one about butters and a reader with eating disorders? (⁠⊙⁠_⁠◎⁠)

(I don't own them but it's a topic that catches my attention.)

i most definitely take requests! you ask and you shall receive! (≧◡≦) ♡

i got a little carried away with this one though.. you didn’t specify what kind of eating disorder, so i went with Pica, and Anorexia. this is kind of rushed, so, sorry about that..

anyway, heavy trigger warning!! & thank you for requesting! ♡

➜ LEOPOLD “BUTTERS” STOTCH X FEM!READER

｡𖦹°‧ trigger warning; eating disorders (Pica, Anorexia if you squint), consumption of non-edible stuff (brief), auto-cannibalism, cannibalistic urges, self-harm, body dysmorphia, psychological topics, body horror, blood, gore (?), mentions of spit.

[Name] is hungry.

so, so hungry.

starving.

salivating at the thought of filling up the void within her stomach.

hurling at the sensation of brimming the aching emptiness.

are the shivers adorning the sunken skin from ecstasy, or existential dread?

staring at the clump of cafeteria food on her tray, she poked the mashed potatoes with her plastic fork. the dimmed fluorescent lights flickered slightly, the smothering school air muffled the chatter of the surrounding students. distant laughter crowded her eardrums, yet, all she could focus on was the bland nutritions taunting her. taunting her resolve. her soul. her existence. her essence. the faint illumination highlighted the bleak texture, the barely cooked meat gleamed in rosy tints, stingy oil decorating the tissues.

she's hungry.

alone.

sneaking a glimpse at the seat next to her, her half-lidded eyes settled upon a vacant bench. the drool seemed to gather in her mouth, slimy tongue poking the flesh of her inner-cheek, the bones of her teeth clashed, emitting a revolting screech that echoed within her organ of hearing. separating her vision from the spot that seemed to garnish her irises with dreary mist, the shivers upon her skin tingled, causing her sight to falter. her bloodstream turned frigid within her veins, incessant architects of doom replaced the platelets within the carmine wetness, pumping irregularly into her hollowly full heart.

is her heartbeat delicious?

tingle. tingle. tingle. tingle.

she's itchy.

the shivers are prickling her skin.

staring at her bare hands, the sombre tint of her dermis accentuated the ashy bones poking the thin of the protective layer. her veins bulged from underneath, inflating rhythmically with each spurt of vital fluid. she could feel the blood vessels on her skeleton, buried deep into the sinews. the shivers prodded her being, her focus solely on them. the saliva within her mouth accumulated, slightly escaping from the corners of her parched lips, coating her teeth, and drowning her system in the symptom of famine. she glanced at the food yet again, but swiftly retreated back to the shivers poking out of her body.

does her skin taste good?

would it taste any different with shivers?

it's cold.

she wants to eat.

leisurely nearing her thumb closer to her damp lips, her hand trembled, with each flicker, her muscles spasmed cynically. she applied pressure to her jaw, clenching her teeth harshly, she wondered if she would start bleeding from her cavities due to the weight. her grip on the fork wavered, as the cutlery connected with the brisk metal of the table she occupied, reverberating with a soft thud. her fingers felt empty at the division of the utensil, but they had always felt empty, uncompleted, yearning to hold something that would warm them up once more.

would her teeth shatter within her mouth if she didn't eventually stop grinding them against each other?

would they taste good?

would they quell her hunger?

no.

the shivers look appetizing.

she needs her teeth to chew through skin.

the back of her thumb stilled against her drool-coated lips, resting on the shredded plush, the barrier of her notions disregarded the murmurs traversing around the sullen walls of the cafeteria. the static stinging the cortex of her brain made her intestines feel fuzzy with the urge to stifle the murk of malnutrition. confined within the oubliette of gnawing rapacity. disconnecting the thread that tied her teeth together, the odious shriek came to a halt, as she detached her lips from one another, her spit cascaded down onto the skin of her finger.

is it cold? is it warm?

she wants to suffocate in the spit of another.

another dribble of spit followed after, dampening the corium of her finger with the transparent wetness. it gleamed dimly underneath the luminescence of the bleak fluorescent lights, steadily cascading down the sombre lane of her hand, and leaving a trail of voracity behind. her teeth latched onto the flesh, sinking into the tissues, penetrating the cells of her skin, she could feel the metallic tang of vermillion moisture establishing their home atop her tastebuds. a pang of agony fluttered throughout her body. it was nothing in comparison to the pit inside the veins of her heart.

she nibbled upon the sinews, mangling the layer of the epidermis apart with the sheer force of her teeth. the liquid repainted her lips with its brightness, that quickly darkened due to the impending pace of her chewing. the blood gushed down her throat, embracing the entirety of her being into the metallic clasp of its salvation. her grip rough upon her thumb, and her flesh snug within her mouth, she adjusted her eyes, her pupils enlarged within the austere hue of her irises, quivering with need. her lenses of the world blurred, her senses hazed, as she found herself gazing into the eyes of a blonde male.

his tourmaline irises stared at her figure. staring, staring, staring, staring, staring. why is he always staring at her? is he hungry too? no. he's her friend. she'd know if he was hungry. her stomach churns at his insistent focus, yet, she never tore her flesh away from the congenial enclasp of her mouth, she desired for the blood to drip down into the abyss of her digestive system. the ache for the lacuna to be satisfied is severe, pulsating underneath her skin viscerally, and tingling within her veins. she wouldn't let him stop her from appeasing the fiend's vacuity that has been brewing for decades.

"is this seat taken?"

a hesitant tone shattered her lust-ridden reverie, as she flinched slightly due to the interruption. despite the reluctance of his voice, it punctured the brisk heap of garnering deprivation that had begun to slither into her cerebrum, cordiality fleeted in between the hasty gaps that were left behind by the immoral need of fulfillment. [Name] covertly separated her teeth that longed to banjax the vessels coursing through her body, as she hid her injured thumb into the grim of her pants. a frown swirled amidst the filth smearing her lips; she couldn't erase the wretched strokes of her visible disappointment.

when did he move?

yet— his tone. so warm. it's warm. unlike the spit in her mouth. unlike the blood in her being. if she emptied the clots of her intestines into her own throat, she wouldn't ever hope to achieve an ample of the complacency his tone brought to the expanding need of the fiend.

would his tone feel as snug in her belly?

"what?" [Name] muttered lowly, once more facing the bland lump of cafeteria food with convulsing lungs, his words didn't register within her mind. all she could focus on is the warmth. the shivers returned to her skin. her teeth ached at the sensation. "um," he stuttered, uncertainty brimming his timbre, as he fidgeted with his nicely trimmed nails, "can i sit here?" he repeated, bashfully smiling at her. [Name]'s gaze connected with his tender features, as a scorching chunk made itself known within her vocal cords at his expression.

his neat blonde hair fell slightly over his thinly furrowed eyebrows, the sparkles bathed the aquamarine tints of his irises, flooding them with tides of sacred refulgence. his pink lips quirked upward in a dubious beam, radiating his smile-lines. his dimples peeked from in between the pale of his cheeks. his mien hopeful, yet tame, as he indulged in the presence of the murky girl before him. her heartbeat quickened at his expectant gaze, palpitating with longing, her guts recoiled within her body, she could feel her respiratory system collide with her digestive system.

she wants to eat. eat. eat. eat. eat. eat.

her sclera glazed with wetness, she could feel tears waltzing through her arteries. he's her friend. has been for quite the time. yet his company never failed to deepen the nihility of her essence. "yeah, of course you can sit here, Leopold." she responded, the amity she wished to portray dissipating into the metallic gasoline of the blood she ingested a few minutes prior, the flavor lingered on her tastebuds, salving upon her tongue with the constant reminder of her hunger. she attempted to offer a smile to the male that had started to settle down beside her, acutely aware of the carmine liquid delving within the cracks of her lips.

her smile looked akin to an ignited thread barely hanging onto reality. fragile. brittle? no. unsure. descending.

descending towards what?

the gash upon her thumb oscillated, pumping due to the morbid searing of affliction, the profound sensation reechoed throughout the raging cells of her body, fiery underneath the taunting humming of the asphyxiating zephyr. she discreetly buried her finger deeper into her pants, metrically smudging the vital fluid all over the dross that tainted the clothing. the filthy scent of cafeteria food wafted through her nostrils, as she became aware of her surroundings, she felt her large intestine squeezing the smaller one, mashing the organ into a pile of pulpy carnage.

the grotesque vacuum within her soul stapled itself onto the movements of the blonde haired male, observing his posture, deluging in his expression. he was softly unwrapping his half-eaten lunch with tender hands, carefully setting the lid aside with a nimble touch.

her stomach rumbled.

the sound captured his attention, as he glanced at her, only to find her unblinking stare consuming his actions. the drool returned. tenfold. the saliva gathered on top of her mushy tongue, dripping into the gaps of her almost-rotten teeth. she pursed her lips tightly, striving to maintain her genial grin that seemed to be contorting. Leopold returned her attempt of benevolence, it appeared to be more bountiful, swaying on the soft of his lips. "are ya hungry?" he questioned, briskly glimpsing at her untouched mass of insipid nourishment. meek tone fleeting from his throat.

of course she's hungry.

she isn't looking at the repulsive clump of sustenance, though.

her glands watered, as she stared at him.

"the food here isn't really.. the best." he timorously added, clutching his utensil within his hand, as he mindlessly poked his food, slightly arching the curve of his eyebrows, contemplating his next words. his cotton-filled tone graced her eardrums once again, she discerned it amongst the jabbers of the students, his voice echoed with an edge of qualm. [Name] chuckled in response, the noise hollow upon her tongue, flavorless within her mouth. "no, not really." she shrugged, the untruth absconding into the air, decaying the docility of the atmosphere.

another glimpse at her unsavory meal.

uneaten.

Leopold hummed in reply, before digging into his own nutriment, "i don't mind sharin', y'know." he muttered between bites, directing his gaze at [Name]. her eyes never wavered, lingering upon his lips for a second too long. despite her throat flooding with her bitter drool, it felt withered, shriveled with undeniable thirst. her breath hitched at his attention, her nostrils flared faintly, as her nerves trembled. repugnance with a hint of disbelief swirled underneath the sentiments, she couldn't stop her sclera from dampening, she squinted to shackle the drops where they belonged.

how could he eat that?

it's disgusting.

does he not see it too?

[Name] couldn't distinguish what he was stuffing down to his stomach, she couldn't bare to peek at it. his adam's apple bobbed in his throat, as he swallowed, awaiting her response. her silence unnerved him, in spite of the noisy buzzing of the atmosphere, her hushed stillness blared cruder. more intense. she exhaled deeply, her chest reverberating, her spit settled within her mouth, threatening to overspill. she couldn't find her voice, perhaps it was buried beneath the brawny bundle of famine gnawing at her essence. the daunting quietude shattered against her jagged giggle, "i know, i'm just not hungry." liar. liar. liar. "thank you, though." said a smile that oxidizes her skin.

the blonde male nodded gingerly to her words, widening his smile in reassurance, before directing his gaze to his meal, his fork punctured the nerves of the chicken he was eating, pausing, "d'ya wanna hang out after school, then?" he questioned, his movements demure, as his grip stilled, his vision almost wandered to the carmine staining her lips. [Name]'s pupils shuddered, her sight camouflaged within the draped curtain of unyielding smog; the tears were leaking, and they were going to be tattletales of her hunger. but she couldn't. she couldn't look away, no matter how hard her sclera tugged upon her irises to move.

his mannerisms are so delicious.

she doesn't want to hang out.

will she even survive until then?

but, he's so sweet. so, so sweet. her mouth tingled with anticipation, her stomach caved in on itself, attempting to grasp that feeling of fruition within her vexingly deserted body, her saliva smothered the bones that ached.

"yeah, of course!" [Name] replied, the blood that persisted wriggled within the decay of her teeth, as she had strived to echo a sign of her normalcy in the sound of a giggle; but, all that had escaped was a ghastly sigh that scrunched her esophagus. Leopold nodded eagerly to her agreement, "neat! meet me at Stark's Pond after your classes!" he resounded, his tone airy within her ears, the school bell reverberated soon after his sentence, causing him to hastily pack his lunchbox into his bag. "see ya later, [Name]." he waved, before stumbling in between students to get to his classroom.

[Name] stared at his disappearing figure, almost reaching out a hand to clasp his shirt, yet she swiftly retreated her limb, squeezing her injured thumb, the twinge of affliction engendered her bloodied teeth to clutch the tainted carmine of her lips, caging a peeved whine behind her quivering uvula.

she isn't done eating yet.

and the traitors residing within her eyes fell at the loss of her meal, the liquid truth tarnished her sombre skin with the stream of forbidden desire.

Stark's Pond, Stark's Pond, Stark's Pond. [Name] hummed, her timbre an unstable melody of her abiding famine, she awaited Leopold's arrival, with a grimacing mien, and ashen lips. the tints of the afternoon painted the empyrean realms coppery, melting within the rosy shadows of the clouds, the brisk zephyr surrounded her anatomy, tracing the exposed skin with silvery claws that caused the shivers to return. she found herself in front of the body of water, gazing into her reflection.

the shivers...

where is he?

did he notice?

separating her vision from her contorting reflection, she stared at the graying grass peeking from the sanctitude of the snow, her sclera reddened. of course, he noticed. he noticed the scorched vermilion that dried upon her lips, the aggressive gashes her teeth left behind on her skin, the seeping abrasions that gnawed at the hue of her dermis, the blood that oozed from the wounds within her mouth, the shattered glass on her vanity dipped in the same grotesque liquid that whispers. her hunger. her hunger. he noticed. did he? he did.

perhaps, the bruises littered around his body made him more prone to noticing.

returning her vision to the puddle of darkened water, she found her wide eyes staring back at her, the outline of her pupils looming inside her soul, her irises seemed to drool. seemed to deform, and splinter the hurdle of sanity she strived to showcase.

her eyes.

are they blue? green? maybe hazel?

they look brown.

no, they aren't brown.

so, what color are they?

what's color?

does it matter?

is she skinny? chubby? normal?

what's normal?

is being like this normal?

yes, it is.

her soul is rattling.

maybe, she'll be skinny today, and chubby tomorrow.

food is disgusting.

she wants to eat his smile.

why don't you eat?

food will only taint her skin with pimples, and stretch her guts with calories.

but, you're hungry.

do his eyes taste as sweet as they look?

you'll never feel full.

shut up.

"[Name]!" Leopold's cheery tone drained the gnarled viridescent of her thoughts, as she swiftly turned around to acknowledge him; the rusting sepia papery against the beam that attempted to stretch across her face at his appearance— it reeked of iron. "hello!" her tottering voice responded, the perpetual winterbourne of her corroding drool threatened to spurt through the fissures of her teeth. the male stilled in front of her, the slightest bit tousled, he offered her a grin, with a hand on his nape.

"well, geez, i hope i didn't keep ya waiting for long," he uttered aloud, his breaths rowdier than usual, his pale skin embracing the hue of a fleecy flush that cluttered across his cheeks. [Name] shrugged his words off, the fluxing grin that had hoped to fragment the animalistic desire of the fiend relishing in the tender blush upon his face, as it seemed to twist into something real, "you didn't! so, what's the plan for today?" she replied, nudging him softly with her elbows, the bestial hush of the smile tugged upon the sentimental strings of her withering beat, it pressurized the expression to turn into one of a drool-layered grimace.

would her skin turn red if she devoured the color on his face?

would her eyes?

Leopold outwardly brightened upon hearing her words, as he ushered her to follow him, "c'mon!" he urged with a sign of his hand, [Name] swiftly followed his lead, strolling beside him with the ghoulish tension emanating across her upheld mien. she observed the quirk of his lips stretch, his lashes caressing the soft of the area beneath his narrow eyebrows, the glimmers within his irises twinkling when the fading sun rays bid its farewells one last time to them. "where to?" she questioned, with an arch of her brow that almost seemed mechanical— unnatural.

because, truly she wasn't at all curious.

"'t's a surprise!"

with a pep in his steps, he continued onward, the fading hues of the sunset painting his countenance in summery tints that harmonized the tranquility of his features. the aerospace blared in faux serenity, the hustling of leafs a faraway echo of ataraxy, as she trailed after him, the salivating ink of her pupils immersed itself into the orchestration of his presence. her canines peeked from in between the flesh of her lips, cleansing the tinges of rufous from the fragile skin with her mouldering slobber. she compressed her mutilated thumb in her grip, mashing the injured sinews— torturing them, as they dribbled the appalling liquid onto her palm, onto her shivered skin

nibble. chomp. chew. masticate.

hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry—

"we're here!" Leopold exclaimed, coming forth akin to the thawing sun beams amidst the tattered turmoil of desolate brume. [Name] winced, as she bitterly tore her gaze apart from the flare upon his face. the sight of a picnic mat greeted her, a homely basket perched atop of it, the graying turf underneath just a little brighter, the quavering of fusing snow forsaking portions of pitiful fragments behind. the girl disregarded the tremor within her stomach, nodding to him in approval, the rot flashed a smile; "is that why you were so out of breath earlier?" she softly remarked— softly. no, it wasn't soft. grating, scratching at the silk, desperately begging for it to lend her the front she attempted to portray.

Leopold's hand attached itself to his nape once more, lightly grazing it, "yeah, i just," he started, his breath hitching within his throat at her expression. the festering dazzle that gouged, stapling the smirch of murk onto the leer that had strived to appear cordial. because, of course he noticed. her occupying a lone lunch table in the corner of the cafeteria everyday, staring at the lump of sustenance with a wooden expression— as liquid cascaded down her chin— he couldn't tell if it was from her eyes or her mouth. blotches of rust faulting the cells of her skin, wounded scrapes, all of it. "never mind that, let's go eat!" he shook his head, dissipating his thoughts.

he noticed, [Name].

your meal has eyes.

sweet, sweet eyes.

"yeah, let's go e̴͓̝̖̣̫̠͔͒a̴̡̻̲͈̝̖͊̎̾́̓̾͠͝t̶̞̯̹̝͙̝̀͂͜." she reechoed his words, grasping his tender hands within her own, the shivers tingled. quivering, shuddering at the touch. she maintained the pseudo mannerism, sustaining the quirk of the lips that ignited the aching void. it didn't taste as sugary as it looked upon his face. stiffening due to the sudden contact, Leopold let her lead him toward the arranged picnic he set up, only loosening up once she released her hold on him. he didn't miss the way she swiftly licked the drool spewing from her mouth.

settling upon the delicacy of the mat, they sat on it, the contact of their hands grimly severed. Leopold delved into the basket, he unwrapped a sandwich, as he stretched his arm to her, offering her the clump of nutrition. [Name] gaped at it, she noticed the hues of the airspace transforming into gloomy dusk, the crickets made themselves known, chirping, chirping, chirping. in agony or merriment? she gulped a block of smothering saliva, studying the light bruises that decorated his hands, the pleasant trim of his porcelain nails, and her appetite had dispersed. "uh, no, thank you, i'm not hungry." stop lying. lying isn't normal. your existence isn't normal.

normal, normal, normal.

is the color of her eyes normal?

Leopold tilted his head, the swirls within his irises gleaming with perplexity at her statement, "wuh! but ya barely ate during lunch—" he expressed, creasing the arch of his eyebrows in a furrow. he adjusted his sight, gazing at the sandwich within his hand, "don't ya like turkey sandwiches? there's pies too, if ya wanna," he ranted, his speech halting midway when he felt the trace of a chilly breath upon his lips, returning his pupils to their primary placement, he found himself engulfed by asphyxiating silhouettes of exhibiting tenebrosity; displayed grisly for the tints of his glittering to gruffly observe.

her mouth warped into a barren snigger, the vestige of her attempted amity melting within slobber coated fangs that gleamed in illusionary consolation. the dimmed twinkle of the moonlight had begun to mournfully arise amidst the murk, the lustre of the satellite scorned the wandering souls, shining just enough to give hope that there would be a way out, a quixotic ideal, condescending, loud for the forlorn, quiet for the deceased. her hand gently— no. steadily. in preparation, connected with the fluffiness of his sweater, "what do you like to eat, Leo?" she questioned, the inquiry childish in its nature, yet, derisive on her tongue. tasteless.

the drumming of his heart came to an abrupt halt, fixating on the moribund flicker within the devilry consuming her eyes. the spit fleeing from her agape mouth merged within the specks of blood adorning the flesh of her inner-cheeks (was it from the glass shards she actively shoved down her throat, or the coaxing urge to nibble upon the sinews residing inside? all in hopes of satisfying the demanding chasm, of course!), "well, g-gee, [Name], that's a hard question." he stuttered, a feasible attempt of stability is what his tone had strived to portray, but it felt dim against her asphyxiating expression.

the sandwich disconnected from his grip, as it fell upon the picnic mat with a dull thud, his fingers clutched the fabric underneath him, squeezing it in hoax security. [Name] hummed to his words, her face inching closer to his with vigorous concentration, her irises roamed the revered canvas of his features, her sludgy tongue peeked from in between her damp lips that grinned in blasphemy. her other hand connected with the sweater engulfing his chest, "i-i mean, there's a lot of lovely dishes, ain't there?" he continued, the edge of his words almost brimmed with the pointed coating of alarm. "what about ya?" he questioned, chucking gauchely.

his body tensed from underneath her, pulsating in an unstable rhythm of barely-contained panic from her sudden outburst. her enclasp tightened upon his shoulder, compressing the flesh beneath her unyielding force. their breaths jumbled together in jarring cacophony of glacial fever, his heartbeat resounded lustily within the corridors of her mind, engendering her cells to clash irretrievably, the blood vessels pumped eagerly against her quivering bones. the carmine wetness within her being seemed to transform into echoes of drool, frothing at his mere existence.

his back connected with the picnic mat at the loss of his balance, as [Name] collided with his hammering heart, her ears upon his chest, her irises embraced the impending murk, as she shut her eyelids. Leopold groaned from underneath her at the fall, his hand swiftly moving to caress his strands of hair, his other arm finding their way atop her waist. "your heartbeat." she softly whispered, her sclera glazing from underneath the gloominess her eyelids offered, her voice tender amidst the wails of the zephyr, the strings of her hearing thriving off the pounding of his organ.

your heartbeat is my favorite thing to eat.

but, for how long would the sound alone suffice?

#south park #south park x reader #fanfic #oneshot #south park fanfiction #butters stotch #sp butters #butters oneshot #butters x reader #leopold butters stotch #south park oneshot #butters x y/n #sp x reader #cannibalistic #yearning hours #eating disoder trigger warning

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gardening-guy · 6 months ago

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aaaaaaaa one of my roommates who is also one of my closest friends let me spend an allocated amount of money on whatever i wanted for a late holiday gift and i am going to use it to convert one of my living room bookcases into an indoor seed-starting cabinet!!!

it's one of those kinda tall white bookcases that you can get from target. i try to avoid target as much as possible nowadays, but i bought this bookcase back when i was just starting in college, so i'm comfortable with using it instead of throwing it away as unnecessary waste.

i'm buying the following:

small humidifier

4 thin grow light panels

a bag of seed-starting mix (we're trying out espoma organic brand)

10 seed-starting trays with 12 cells each

a surge protector for the outlet that i'll be plugging the humidifier, grow light panels, and my current grow lights into

new spray bottles for misting plants & for neem-oil solution

my first actual bottle of neem oil (how i haven't bought this yet, i have no idea)

more plant labels

2 new bags of potting soil just for the rest of my houseplants

8 window box planters for a separate project (i'll be drilling them into either my backyard fence or onto the back deck railing)

additional ideas and advice are appreciated! i can post a picture of the bookcase that i'll be working with once i get home from my shift :)

#gardenblr #hobby: gardening #gardening #gardener #plantblr #plants #plant #houseplants #houseplant #seed starting #seedlings #garden #grow lights

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 year ago

Note

ASG visit a grocery store plz

Shinra has a system where groceries are delivered to the First's apartments upon order, however this time Angeal was inspired to explore the city and suggested they all take trip to the local grocery store for their shopping.

• Sephiroth is in the produce aisle, roaming over the fresh vegetables and rediscovering ones he forgot about—what is a romanesco and why does it look like that? *buys some because it looks interesting* —and then it happens: the sound of a thunderstorm as the vegetables get misted. Sephiroth is like a little kid as he watches, mystified, as the vegetables get showered to the sound of rain. Whoever invented this is brilliant. Sephiroth stands there, waiting for another show for a good 10 minutes before he walks off, disappointed. It should be voice activated.

• Genesis finds the cereal aisle and makes a beeline for the one thing he came here to find: Stamp Puffs: Limited SOLDIER edition! - Now with a miniature figure of your favorite hero inside!

• He grabs the box with his face on it, tears it open excitedly and......HUH? Where's tiny Genesis?? Why is there a SEPHIROTH figurine instead?? This is HIS CEREAL BOX IT HAS HIS FACE ALAKSJAJSHSJ

• Angeal is busy shopping around for the necessities—milk, eggs, yogurt, olive oil, those chocolate-filled snack cakes Sephiroth says are "meant for children and unfit for a SOLDIER's diet" but he ends up eating half a box worth of anyway....

*Angeal spots Genesis opening a cereal box in the cereal aisle. To his left is a pile of opened boxes, to his right is a pile of Sephiroth action figures*

Angeal: Gen, what are you—

Genesis: BLASPHEMY *sets a tiny Sephiroth on fire*

Angeal: I don't know you *walks away quickly*

• Sephiroth finds an entire watermelon. He has never purchased his own fruits before, let alone a watermelon. Sephiroth sees other shoppers slapping their watermelons. He thinks this is standard procedure and slaps his watermelon. He breaks the watermelon in half. Watermelon juice flies everywhere. People are staring. Sephiroth takes off with his smashed watermelon.

• Angeal is still going through his shopping list: garlic, tomatoes, toothpaste, those fun cookies he gives Zack whenever he performs a task successfully that Lazard says is immoral but Angeal will continue to give him anyway.

*Angeal finds Sephiroth looking at a jar of two-in-one peanut butter and jelly*

Angeal: Hey, bud! Having fun?

Sephiroth: This item is a prime example of inefficiency. They deliver a skewed ratio, with a significant percentage more peanut butter than jam, as if they fear exceeding a certain jam threshold, despite jam arguably being the superior component of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Not only that, but by mixing the two, it distorts the distinct flavor profiles achieved when spreading peanut butter and jam separately. And then they have the audacity to charge 8 gil for it. I am disgusted.

Angeal: Why is there a smashed watermelon in your cart?

Sephiroth:

• After opening 33 boxes of Stamp Puffs with his face on it and finding nothing but Sephiroth action figures, Genesis gives up. He starts to walk away when he sees a small child pick out a box with Sephiroth's face, open it, pull out a Genesis action figure, and exclaim "Cool, I got Genesis! He's my favorite one!" — Genesis is now sobbing into a bag of bread. He still has to pay for the 33 boxes of cereal though.

• They all regroup back at the checkout line. Angeal is standing there, mystified as Sephiroth's cart is filled with items such as a gallon of honey, 6 entire boneless sliced hams, several trays of frozen convenience dinners, bubblegum-flavored children's toothpaste, and purple shampoo.

Angeal: Pray tell what the purple shampoo is for.

Sephiroth: An elderly woman in the shampoo aisle informed me that this is very good for gray hair.

Angeal: But your hair isn't—oh never mind. Genesis, what on earth are you going to do with 33 boxes of cereal and 33 Sephiroth action figures.

Genesis: File a complaint to the marketing department. Can you believe all of the Genesis cereal boxes came with Sephiroth action figures? Every single one of them.

Sephiroth: I apologize for coming inside of you.

Genesis:

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #crisis core

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sugarybisous · 2 years ago

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how i got rid of my body acne and achieved the smoothest skin ever and also plan on keeping it hydrated during the colder months 🫧🧼🧴🚿

i absolutely love and adore the naturium brand it really has transformed my skin and helped it so much ive used each product separately but get the best results using them together.

THESE TWO BODY WASHES RIGHT HERE! ive had body acne for as long as i can remember and these two washes have magically made them go away. i notice when i use other body washes my skin tends to revert back into breaking out but these body washes help my skin so much and clear up my skin so well. i still am left with the scarring but they also have a vitamin c body wash for skin brightening that also exfoliates that i want to try out for my scars.

ROUTINE FOR SMOOTH HYDRATED SKIN:

1. the first thing i do is dry brush, you might not be able to tell the difference in the beginning but you will after and especially after consistent use.

2. the next thing i do is shower like normal and use shower tools to really help clean my skin whether it’s an exfoliating glove, wash cloth, loofah, exfoliating wash net,etc…(i recommend an exfoliating glove and wash net for a deeper wash and for extra smooth skin as well you will definitely notice a difference in the texture of your skin after!) i also of course use the two body washes i listed above, the salicylic acid one first then the multi-oil body wash after.

3. the thing that seals the deal…a body oil! yes you are going to use it right after you shower with water still dripping on your skin! (i pat very little water off my body so im not sopping wet reaching over for my body oil) but the water is the key into locking in the moisture when you rub the body oil in the water will be absorbed into your skin and you will not be soaking wet anymore, and the way your skin will feel after? SOOOO SMOOTH!!

after this i like to still layer on my smells through body lotions, body mists and perfumes because these have zero to little fragrance to them

the body oil i use is the palmers coconut body oil which is very affordable going under $10 i believe and this brand has been very good to my skin as well i love their coconut line. and another affordable drug-store body oil is the neutrogena one both unscented and scented i don’t have it personally (which will probably change soon tbh) but ive smelled and felt it in person before and loved it.

this routine gets my skin nice and smooth every time im soo obsessed, i hope this helps! ♡

#sugarybisous #mine

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goodolddumbbanana · 8 months ago

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[Superhero au] Pre Dazzle - Ur... You make him cry, boss

Warning: Solar get ties up.

“You know, Eclipse, we should stop ending our confrontation like this. With me in the sky without a scratch and you writhing at my feet like a worm that needs to be torn apart.”

Yellow glinted from SUN’s blue glasses, almost in contrast to Solar’s already ashen-colored hoodie. A wrong decision, a subjective judgment that had separated Solar from his group. Moon was still too busy scattering civilians, and Lunar was still struggling with SUN’s henchman. He was alone here, as usual, being the punching bag for this asshole.

A loud explosion made Solar frown. Half of SOlar’s systems had shut down, unable to withstand the impact. His internal systems were also plastered with yellow icons, as the incessant notifications of urgent need for repairs rang out deafeningly.

Fine dust formed a mist that curled in the air, as the smell of burning plastic and soot condensed together noxiously, with the crackling of the rubble surrounding Solar.

The malicious mockery could be tasted in SUN's eyes, as they drew closer, the pleasant ringing of their footsteps, the way they stared at Solar's body that was almost paralyzed, the result of that bastard wondering what would happen if they just plugged in the various wires in the circuit board behind his head, after they dunked him in the water.

“I mean, aren't you tired?”

The voice was too gentle, as if they were genuinely concerned for Solar's well-being. It made his finger marks dig deep into the ground, leaving long holes as he raised his insolent eyes to the villain hovering high in the sky, his throat cutting with searing pain.

“Aren’t you allergic for shut the fuck up?”

Solar growled, his throat aching, feeling like a few pebbles had gotten stuck in the screws moving inside him, as the attacks he had suffered from SUN a few minutes ago had left no mercy in their aftermath.

“Hmm…” The villain just tilted his head, his fingers flicking Solar’s rays. A snap of his lips was heard as they said ‘Nope!’

The movements were almost too fast for Solar to react, as they giggled, lifted him up by the neck, and slammed him into a nearby wall.

Bricks flew out, causing the world in front of Solar to spin. The sharp pieces hitting his face were not as painful as SUN’s annoying voice. A few of his rays had cracked in half, black oil splattered all over his shirt.

“You don’t understand, the moon killed my brother.”

SUN’s fake joke was so empty that Solar felt disgusted. He felt like an ant, a toy in SUN’s hands, only alive because they were bored.

This time too, they only managed to save the world, because SUN was busy arguing with his henchmen and forgot to focus on their plan to blow up the moon.

Solar didn’t understand, and didn’t want to understand, with SUN’s power, whether he destroyed or dominated the world, it was all a piece of cake. But they were still here, with their unrealistic and ridiculous plans, as if they just wanted to play, as if they just wanted to dip their hands in blood and lick it like a cat just wanting to play with its prey.

They just wanted to spread agony and suffering, and they didn’t care whose life they took, as long as it was fun.

And in those empty, cruel eyes, there was no one but themselves.

“So, tell me Eclipse, what should I do with you?”

SUN’s voice again. They hummed, the bells clanging along their steps. There was something extremely eye candy, the way their crimson robes undulated as if they were alive, flexibly hugging SUN's slender body like a cat's tail.

The sunset cast a burnt orange glow over SUN’s face. They sat down, tilting their heads to look at him, their hands roughly grasping his rays, forcing him to look at them properly. Still as splendid and intact as ever, without a trace of worldly dust, with the mocking and indifferent look of a god from another world. Their minds always seemed to be lost somewhere, with a distorted look as if they only saw him, and this world as numbers, inanimate objects.

As if they were the only ones who existed here.

They still spoke so nonchalantly.

"You ruined my plan, you even injured my minions. I should have blown you up, or just made your death so slow, you would beg me to put you out of your misery.”

SUN whispered into Solar’s ear, their voice was soft, too gentle and sweet as their hands squeezed Solar’s shoulder blades, causing the metal to almost dent inward.

“But I’m feeling merciful today, so… Why don’t you sleep for a while, huh, Hero?”

Light exploded before Solar’s eyes. A searing pain shot through his body, leaving him unable to react, only to convulse and collapse to the ground. Everything became too blurry, and what remained in SOlar’s memory, was SUN’s hateful crescent smile.

—-

Tick… Tok…

Solar didn’t know if it was the steady ticking of the clock, or the buzzing, fan-like sound that woke him up.

Where the hell was he? Just a few minutes ago he was still in the square, then–

Ah…

Solar grimaced, a terrible pain that seemed to crack his circuit board in half, pushing the jammed data to Solar’s CPU.

Everything flashbacks to his eyes.

The plan went wrong, he was separated from Moon and Lunar, and was knocked out by SUN.

And he woke up here… Where was this?

Everything was dark, hazy. It smelled like detergent, and the dampness was stagnant as if he were in a bathroom. He tried to get up but was immediately pulled back. It seemed like his neck was chained. The wire pressed against Solar’s shoulder.

For a moment, Solar was terrified, thinking that SUN had finally gouged his eyes out or done something to negate his abilities to such an extreme degree.

But luckily, that wasn't the case. His eyes were just covered, felt rough like tape. And what was even more uncomfortable was that he was tied up.

Solar didn't know what the hell SUN had done, but his entire body was tied to the ground, making him unable to move at all. Solar's two hands were tied together and coiled with iron chains behind his back, while his ankles were all jingling as if the steel wires were being coiled together.

Rubbing against the wall, he realized that the chain was quite long, and based on the feeling from his rail, the end of the chain seemed to be fixed to the wall.

Solar tried to stand up, but only caused the chains to get tangled together and made him fall over. The black dust and oil stuck to Solar's palms, making him frown unconsciously in disgust.

‘Calm down Solar, first you need to figure out where you are.’

Solar gritted his teeth to calm himself down. He couldn’t be so desperate, if SUN kept him alive, maybe they needed Solar for something. He just needs to have hope.

Now he needs to think of a plan to escape.

Diagnosing himself internally, he breathed a sigh of relief when none of his functions were too badly damaged. His battery was still at 54 percent, still not too bad, enough for him to think of a way to escape. And now, Solar needed to focus on his surroundings.

Took a deep breath, he curled up against the vertical wall, then tried to adjust his hearing to the highest possible level.

Tok… Tak…

They were probably on water, judging from the crashing sound he heard. The pungent smell of detergent, mixed with the strong iron smell of blood and oil, filled his nostrils. The steady, occasional clicking of the keyboard. Solar could also vaguely hear the sound of the television in the distance—

“MIKU, WE’LL TALK ABOUT YOUR NOVEL WRITING HABITS LATER!!!! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO WRITE ABOUT YOUR BOSS LIKE THAT!!!--” SUN’s distant shout startled Solar. When did they arrive? Solar’s radar didn’t even sense anything. Just a gust of wind blew by and—

“Oh, Eclipse~~ I didn’t expect you to wake up so early—”

SUN was speaking when he stopped. Solar could vaguely feel SUN’s gaze staring at him. There was a gasp from SUN’s direction, and then his mortal enemy walked out, the sound of footsteps fading away and their shrill, angry voices.

“MIKU!!! I TOLD YOU TO TIE HIM UP!! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?”

“What do you mean, Boss? Didn’t I tie him up nice and tight?” SUN’s henchman responded, her voice sounding bored, as if the anger of a villain who could turn dozens of cities into dust was a joke.

“NOT LIKE THIS!!! YOU— WHY DID YOU USE SO MANY CHAINS?!!!”

“Isn’t this supposed to be an extra session for you two? I just like making things more spicy.”

“Miku… I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you for real this time. And I’m going to cut your head off and throw it into the blender.” SUN hissed, even without looking, Solar could feel the smoke starting to puff out from the top of SUN’s head.

“Boss, you know that’s my kink. Don’t threaten me with a good time if you will chicken out on this latter. Being crushed by a criminal… Oh daddy, thinking about it makes me—”

“STOP!! Okay… I’m sorry. I admit I was wrong. Please stop talking.”

The sound faded away. It was gratifying to see SUN miserable, but was there something wrong with the way he was tied up. Honestly, if that was Miku’s job, she did a pretty good job for a lackey.

He literally couldn’t move.

The sound of the door slamming interrupted Solar’s train of thought. SUN’s irritation, even the blind could see it.

A deep breath to compose themselves, then the voice returned to its usual contemptuous sneering.

“Isn’t it embarrassing? Letting you see this.”

A cool swish around Solar’s neck and arms. Suddenly, his movements became easier. His arms were still tied behind his back, but everything about him was now free to move, including his neck. “What do you want?” Solar spatted out each word, wriggling his legs to relieve the fatigue. The real question he wanted to ask was why the hell was he in this place, because usually SUN would just dump him into whatever trash pit when they got bored and just leave him to fend for himself.

Not once had they dragged him back—if he guessed correctly, their lair.

“What do I want? Hmm? Let’s see…” The bell rang once more in Solar’s ears, he could feel the soft, itchy feeling of the ribbon brushing against his cheek as someone’s footsteps drew closer. “—What could I want? Guess what I could want Eclipse? Money? World domination? Escape from boredom? Haha… I, right now, just want…”

The hem of SUN’s cloak draped over his legs, the minty scent mixed with someone’s extremely clean detergent lingering near Solar’s nose.

The soft feeling and weight of a hand pressed against Solar’s thigh. The mockery was disguised as an invitation, as if they were something innocent. “…to be alone.” Solar could feel the curve of their backs, as they pulled themselves closer to Solar, as if to make him feel pressured by their presence. As if to make him fear them.

The vague shadows of their hands descended.

A gentle pressure on Solar’s blindfold, as their fingertips leisurely traced lines up his jaw, then slowly go down to his neck.

Slow and gentle, as if asking a child not to eat cookies before dinner.

“I want you to stop bothering me. Once and for all.”

Solar didn’t really hear what SUN said. Too used to SUN deliberately making him feel uncomfortable, he just waited patiently for them to get close enough to make his move. Time seemed to stop between the two of them as Solar slammed his head into Sun’s face. He didn’t even care if his life was in SUN’s hands or if SUN could easily snap his neck right now, he just wanted to make that bastard feel angry for as many seconds as possible.

SUN’s screams of pain and confusion as he kicked his legs forward, knocking them down sounded like music from heaven for Solar.

In a flash, he pressed his knees against the other’s stomach, pinning them down with his own body. It was ridiculous, Solar didn’t even have any breathing space, but right now, he himself was panting. He could feel his entire body trembling, as the distance between him and freedom was only a hand’s breadth.

Of course, reality came back and slapped Solar in the face.

There was a growl of thrill under his knees, and suddenly, a strong pull on his neck caused him to fall backwards.

“You like to play like that, don’t you!”

That bastard used the damn chains they had cut as weapons against Solar. They didn't even use their strength, just pure physical strength to grapple with Solar, as if there was something funny about watching him clumsily fight them with no vision and his hands tied behind his back.

"Fuck you!" Solar spat. He ignored the taste of oil in his mouth and charged forward, only to fall over due to the shortness of the chains.

"Language." SUN scolded. "Aren't you a hero? Really proves my point." SUN sighed. "You never know when to stop." They sat on Solar's back, occasionally patting his head like a dog.

The shadow moved closer to Solar's head, as they pulled him up. They even dusted him off, removing the sharp pieces of stone he had hit while they were wrestling. Solar stiffly tried to show his glare and malicious feeling, as the other tapped on his intact ray. It was quite painful, especially with the way they pressed their rounded fingertips to the top and pulled, as if wanting to rip it off Solar's head.

"Then, I'll make you a proposal." SUN's voice was leisurely, their hands brushing against Solar's collar.

"You leave me alone, and maybe... your two little friends... will stay intact."

"What do you mean by that?" Solar was startled, raising his head. It felt like something was twisting ugly in Solar's stomach, as if it was fear.

SUN had never used this method, they always simply exploded their power to wherever they hated. But SUN was also an evil person, and with these disgusting tricks, Solar was also used to it to the point of pain.

He just never hoped SUN would lower themselves to this level.

“Hehe… How stupid do you think I am that I don’t know you’re trying to buy my time? Your little fairy and scientist have been… captured by my loyal minions.” The bell rang as SUN leaned on his shoulder in delight. Something rustled as they waved it in front of him.

“Hey Eclipse… Do you want to know what they’re doing?”

At this moment, Solar finally understood the devil with an angel’s face. They spoke so softly, so sincerely, but their words were filled with cruelty. For the first time, Solar felt fear, he half dared to listen, half refused. Anxiety writhed like a knife stabbing into his heart.

<SJGUIOSP{

It sounded like radio static. Then gradually, Solar heard screams. The pitiful screams of innocent people, and…

Moon and Lunar.

“Help!! Eclipse!!! Help me!!!”

“Oh boy… Don’t worry Eclipse, we’re fine, we’ll be fine!!.”

“What do you mean???!!! You idiot, we’re about to die!!!”

And was cut off by a flat, emotionless voice.

“Boss, can I blow them up now?”

“No!! Don’t!!” Solar screamed. He tried to move forward but couldn’t, just desperately following the sounds of the people he cared about.

“Oh? My hero doesn’t want me to destroy these people?” SUN whispered, his even, hateful tone creeping nausea down SOlar’s spine.

“So you know what you have to do?” SUN tapped Solar’s head.

“What?”

“Apologize.”

“Huh?”

“I say sorry.” SUN said sternly. The cold tiredness was the most genuine, for the circus act just now. “Apologize for wasting my time. Sorry for being a troublemaker. Sorry for hurting my lackey. Sorry for being you, a hero, but more useless than those policemen out there.”

“And promise not to bother me again. Including giving this warning for those other annoying heroes.”

“If you promise to ignore me every time you see me, then the people, under your responsibility, will live.”

SUN’s whisper was like sweet venom biting into Solar’s metaphorical heart.

“You don’t want innocent blood on your hands again, right?”

Solar’s knees trembled. His throat felt like it was faulty, he couldn’t make a sound.

“If I agree, what will you do next?” Solar’s voice faltered. Only to be answered by a jingling sound, as SUN’s arm pulled Solar around the neck.

“It’s not something you need to care about anymore, right?”

“So, what’s your decision?”

“I—”

“Save me, Eclipse! I’m scared!! I don’t want to go!!!”

“Don’t worry about us!!! Ecp—”

The voices mixed together, tearing him into two different pieces.

Is it too selfish when he just doesn’t want the people he cares about to be lost again?

“I– I’m sorry. Please spare them—” Solar gasped, squeezing out each word. His head was pounding. Everything was spinning and smashing him into a hundred pieces. He couldn’t think, any logical plan or backup plan, all gone when the people he had worked so hard to take care of were weighed down.

Eclipse was a hero but SOlar had always been selfish.

He couldn’t, he just couldn’t…

“It’s okay.” SUN’s voice was gentle in Solar’s ear, causing him to lift his head.

“I forgive you.” SUN’s palm brushed against Solar’s cheek, as they brought the walkie-talkie to their mouths.

“Blow them up, buddy.” SUN’s silvery bell-like laughter and the endearing voice from the other side like a nightmare shattered Solar’s fleeting reality.

Solar didn’t even have time to scream. He hadn’t even finished speaking when the sound of the explosion hit his ears.

BOOM!!!

The screams died down quickly, along with the flickering of flames and the sound of something breaking.

Ah…

There was a static sound ringing in Solar’s ears.

He still couldn’t process it. It felt like it wasn’t real.

Is that all?

It hurts… It hurts so much… His chest shouldn’t have hurt like this.

Suppressing everything Solar was feeling right now, he trembled, gritting out each word.

“Did– Didn’t you say we would make a deal?”

His voice box seemed to be broken because no matter how hard Solar tried, he couldn’t form words. A pat on the head from SUN, and for a moment, Solar could see the golden light flashing from the bastard’s crescent-shaped eyes.

“I lied. Have you forgotten that, hero? Villains always lie.”

Something wet was dripping from Solar’s chin. Was he shivering? It was so cold, why did Solar feel so cold? He couldn’t understand, he just knew that he was shivering.

He couldn’t show weakness, he couldn’t cry in front of that cold-blooded bastard.

But Solar still lowered his head, unable to hold back the trembling sobs in his throat with black oil dripping from his eye sockets.

Look at that SOlar, that’s your true nature, a destroyer of happiness. Wherever you go, there will be devastation.

How disgusting you are, Eclipse.

The overly familiar voice in Solar’s ears belonged to the ghost he had killed. And, another voice, more meticulous, gentle that Solar rather just ran away.

‘What would you do without me, Eclipse?’

00000000

“Haha– Look at you, I was just kidding. It was all fake–” SUN laughed heartily.

Eclipse’s face went blank like an idiot, making him laugh out loud. Yeah, SUN was evil, but he wasn’t evil enough to do that. Professionals have standards. Threatening the hero’s loved ones, the cheapest trick in Villain 101. SUN was just so fed up with the face they always wore and the way they always got in his way, he wanted to make a prank to embarrass them.

It was easy to imitate the voices of the sidekicks. He meant, they were all animatronics, the dialog boxes were pretty similar.

And the guy named MOnty made a pretty good script, even if it was just an online transaction.

He should pay them more, SUN thought slowly, still staring at the camera.

He didn't expect them to apologize to him easily like that. Anyway, everything has been recorded, he will bring this evidence back and upload it online for the whole world to know how pathetic their hero Eclipse was.

Huh?

Why was his hand wet?

Did they hit any water pipes so hard that they cracked them?

No, it was black.

Oh… Huh?!

SUN looked closely at Eclipse's face. Two lines of black liquid were flowing down Eclipse's cheeks. They were crying. Ouch… They were crying… OHHHHH

Those three words hit SUN's face like a hammer. It shook SUN and slammed SUN to the ground, screaming the words you are a terrible person.

A sob echoed in the silent atmosphere. Luckily Molten was going outside, otherwise with their enhanced hearing, they would definitely crawl out to check if SUN was okay.

…

What now? SUN hadn’t actually thought about what he would do at this stage. He was always the type to act first, think later.

Beat Eclipse off, mock him, sure. But then what?...

Uh…

And with Eclipse keeps continuing to shed tears like this, it became awkward, and—

Did he go too far? He had been like this all the time before, he never cried.

And now, should SUN comfort Eclipse?

“Um… I was just kidding… See… They’re still alive.” SUN hesitantly poked his fingertips. He awkwardly moved closer to wipe Eclipse’s tears. But the more he wiped, the more they flowed. And when he removed the tape from Eclipse’s face, the black oil came out even more, soaking a black patch on SUN’s shirt.

SUn’s internal system was screaming, congratulations, you fucked up, and the little SUNs in his head were jumping around screaming.

What the hell could he do?

“Hey Boss, are you done with your antics? I need you to take me out.”

Okay… SUN admitted that he still thought MIKu was a nuisance, but he had never been more grateful for Miku’s presence than now.

“Miku!!! Save me— Oh, I mean, help me with this.”

“Huh? Don’t tell me you guys are playing too rough and I need you to find a mechanic?”

The rude bastard who never respected SUN stepped in. The smile on her lips disappeared when she saw SUn still wiping Eclipse’s tears, surrounded by a pile of ruins.

That deranged dared to look at him with judgmental eyes.

“Boss. What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything??”

“You guys didn’t do bondage with each other too hard, right? I totally understand if that the case but~~~”

“You don’t understand shit!!”

SUN waved his hand. Both of them completely ignored the sound of metal being torn apart from each other.

Bang!!!

SUN flew into the wall unexpectedly. He groaned and crawled out, before MIku's wide eyes, proving that even she had no idea what was going on.

"Come back here."

The voice was truly terrifying.

SUN turned around in shock. His mortal enemy, standing unsteadily, with a murderous aura like that of a demon from hell.

Their eyes were red, they growled his name in their throats as if it could tear SUN in half.

Honestly seeing his hero this angry, it would be an understatement to say that SUN didn't feel a little bit scared.

Solar staggered, his wrist aching terribly, with a wet feeling dripping onto the floor. The sound of the chain falling onto the tiled floor was still too much for Solar's processor to process the situation, he could only vaguely hear SUN stammering about how this was Tungsten, how the hell could he break it.

Shakily, he brushed the remaining tape off his face, the soft light of the bathroom hitting Solar’s eyes. Oh, so he was right. Nice, he liked potted plants. After a few seconds of panic, Solar had finally realized that he was being pranked. But he didn’t expect SUN to be so caught off guard that Solar could just break the lock and attack them like that. His hand limply touched the button in his palm, the familiar voice of Moon rushed over, intermittently telling them that they were okay and where the hell he was.

Good… Good… Good.

Solar nodded numbly.

Fuck SUN.

Solar just wanted to punch someone right now.

His eyes widened, capturing SUN’s image in his retinas. Their enemy looked more rugged than usual, probably still confused with the stunt he pulled.

Good, let them be confused.

His hand flashed, and Solar smiled contentedly, as he heard SUN scream loudly.

“Shit–!! MIKU!!! Throw your stuff out the window, we—”

BOOM!!!

—-

“Hey Moon.”

“Hey SOlar. Sorry… I’m late again. It’s okay, I've got you now.”

“... I’m just tired. I think I want to go home and sleep.”

“Don’t worry buddy. Just leaving everything for us, and resting. We got you now.

—---

Somewhere…

“Boss, it’s all your fault.” Miku yelled as she was carried by SUN like a sack of potatoes as they flew through the night.

They could have had a cozy place to stay and not drive SUN’s cleaning function crazy. But no, now they had to find another place to stay, which took a ton of time because her Boss was a picky bitch.

“I KNOWWWWW. Now shut it before I drop you!! We also need to find Molten too.”

#i accidentally make it too long #god i tired #haha #i am suck #superhero au #may rewrite it later #sun and moon show #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #tsams sun #sams sun #tsams solar

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changingplumbob · 7 months ago

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Glenn: Does the pleasure, umm... does the colour tell you...

Henri: Tell me what? Because I'm pretty good at telling the shades apart

Glenn: How... like how strong the bond between the people was

Henri: Sometimes, if it's strong and has been for some time

Glenn: So it wouldn't tell you how much he really liked me

Henri: Glenn I generally go with, if they're having fun with no clothes, they have to like you at least a bit

Glenn: Oh

Henri: It uh... it does show that it was your first time sharing woohoo with someone

Glenn: It does?

Henri: Yeah, the strength of the blue hue differs depending on novelty

Glenn: You're not going to make fun of me now are you

Henri: What? No. The whole concept of virginity is outdated, straight centered and sexist

Glenn: I can't argue with that. Do you think I should tell him

Henri: He... didn't know it was your first time?

Glenn looked down and shook his head.

Glenn: I thought about telling him but I was worried he wouldn't go through with it if he knew

Henri: Fair enough but Glenn, I'm getting the feeling you want to pursue things with this guy. If that's the case you should tell him eventually, he'd probably like to know. But it is up to you, don't tell him if you don't want to but just be aware the truth has a way of coming out

Henri needed to grab another layer from home for the cold but he sent Glenn up the tower to prepare the cauldron. Glenn hadn't actually done any work with potions before. His grandfather had always been nature based and Glenn followed his tutelage.

Peeking underneath he saw a bed of crystals forming an element of some kind. Best set it on fire he supposed. He said a quick incantation for a small flame, sending it down to the crystals. A bed of mist above them seemed to ignite and start glowing blue.

Henri: We should probably put something in it before the bottom of the cauldron scorches

Glenn: Oh, how like you put oil in a pan first?

Henri: Exactly. So generally you want to use water as a base. Most of the ingredients you use will be water soluble

Glenn: Will be what?

Henri: It just means they'll break down and mix together. You can just fill it up with tap water or, do you know the spell for siphoning water from the humidity in the air

Glenn: Umm, I do not

Henri muttered a spell and waved his wand and a lot of water appeared in the cauldron.

Glenn: Umm, did you get all that just from the air

Henri: Cauldrons have this... what's the English word? Magnification ability, they will always look more full than they are since the magic is done on a small scale. Makes baking a lot of fun in a cauldron

Glenn: So, it looks like a big bubbling pot but it isn't

Henri: Nah. You'd be lucky to get four flasks out of this

Henri explained the right incantations for stirring the mixture and after showing Glenn the proper stance let him have a go at copying him.

Henri: So now we add the apples

Glenn: Do we just throw them in whole Snow White style?

Henri: Pardon?

Glenn: You know when the Evil Queen dips the apple in the mixture and a skull appears on it to kill Snow White?

Henri: That will not be happening. Okay so you want to core the apples and throw in the peel separately. Then get the seeds from inside the core and grind them up to a fine powder

Glenn did as instructed, saying the required spells and stirring the mixture with each addition.

Henri: Okay so I think it's time to add the pleasure

Glenn: How much do we need

Henri: Well it's a potion of plentiful needs. That means all your needs go up, all your needs get satisfied

Glenn: So... all of it?

Henri: Exactly! Now it's best to drip it in slowly while stirring. Go ahead

Glenn unstopped the vial and began to let the refined pleasure drip into the cauldron. Muttering the incantation to stir the mixture he wondered at the colour being added. Henri said the amount of blue showed novelty but Glenn couldn't see any blue in the pink. It must just be that after all the years Henri had lot of experience telling the pinks apart.

Henri: Alright now you just need to let it blend properly. I'll leave you to it, you'll know when it's done

Glenn: Wait, how will I know when it's done

Henri: It's gray now but when it's ready it will turn dark blue over about 30 seconds. Then you can just bottle it up

Glenn: Thank you for talking me through it Henri

Henri: You're welcome. Now I got to get to the bakery

Glenn waved him off and watched the cauldron. It took maybe 20 minutes but then the mixture did change to a solid blue. Glenn was delighted it had worked and began to fill up some flasks with the potion. Maybe he could gift one to Silver when he came back?

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #GWG #GlennSutherland #HenriHart

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desigirldairies · 1 year ago

Text

Reveal Your Bollywood Glow: Unveiling Celebrity-Inspired Skincare Secrets.

This blog is going to be all about Indian & bollywood inspired products and skincare tips. If you also want a blog separately about Indian natural and authentic skincare or hair care I'll surely make it. 🫶

Know Your Skin Type : Identify your skin type - whether it's oily, dry, combination, or sensitive - to tailor your skincare routine effectively.

Cleanse Like a Star : Use a gentle cleanser like Cetaphil or Neutrogena to remove dirt and makeup and a oil cleaner is a must if you wear makeup daily. Opt for micellar water for a quick and effective cleanse on busy days. (But I don't really recommend it).

Exfoliate for Radiance : Incorporate a mild exfoliator like St. Ives Apricot Scrub or The Body Shop's Vitamin C Glow-Revealing Liquid Peel to slough off dead skin cells and reveal glowing skin. And my personal favorite coffee scrub from The Bombay shaving company. Don't exfoliate more than twice a week.

Hydration Is Key : Use a hydrating toner such as Clinique Moisture Surge Face Spray for an instant boost of hydration or toner + mist from pilgrim works like magic (my fav 😭).

Targeted Treatments : Include a serum with ingredients like hyaluronic acid (for hydration) or vitamin C (for hyperpigmentation) if you are under 17 or 18 like me don't use vitamin c or if you want to use in very less %, I use 2% kojic acid for my uneven skin tone from pilgrim, it's very begniner friendly. (Always consult a dermatologist for your skincare don't go around seeing videos on insta and YouTube believing them). I recommend Minimalist if you want chemical bases serums.

If you are above 23 or 25 Incorporate a retinol-based cream like RoC Retinol Correxion Deep Wrinkle Night Cream for anti-aging benefits. (Got this tip from mumma for y'all 😭✨️)

Sun Protection Essentials : Always apply a broad-spectrum sunscreen with SPF 30 or higher, such as La Roche-Posay Anthelios Ultra Light Fluid, to protect your skin from harmful UV rays. More affordable and effective sunscreens from brands — dot and key, aqualogica, Dr. Seth and wish care.

Overnight Nourishment: Use a hydrating overnight mask like Laneige Water Sleeping Mask to replenish moisture while you sleep. Incorporate a facial oil like The Ordinary's Rose Hip Seed Oil for added nourishment and radiance.

DIY Treatments Inspired by Bollywood:

- Try a turmeric, gram flour and yogurt face mask inspired by Priyanka Chopra for glowing skin.

- Use aloe vera gel like Deepika Padukone for its soothing and hydrating properties. (MY fav bolly actress btw 😭❤️)

Lifestyle Tips for Healthy Skin : Stay hydrated by drinking plenty of water throughout the day people are not stupid that they are going around telling you to drink water, IT'S A MUST!. Incorporate antioxidant-rich foods like fruits, vegetables, and green tea into your diet for overall skin health.

Some of my fav brands (mostly available in india) : dot and key, Foxtale, pilgrim, minimalist, st. Botanica, organic harvest and aqualogica!

Fav brand released by a bollywood actress: Hyphen by Kriti Sanon, their lip balm can even beat Rhode's lip balm istg- and their sunscreen 🔛🔝.

Channel your inner Bollywood diva and achieve a radiant, flawless skin with these skincare tips and product recommendations. Let your skin glow like a star!

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oldestenemy · 1 month ago

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in, out, repeat

After enduring a handful of…oddly charged moments between Pork and an old…friend? Adversary? Khan is certainly something in that vein—the crew of the spiral ark finally has a way out to the rest of Empyrea. Even if the somewhat…crash landing of the escape pod sets the wizard’s still spinning head even more askew. There are bigger problems. More immediate ones at any rate.

The wizard steps out of the pod onto Zanadu, and realizes immediately that they’ve made a mistake. The air is so thick with Shadow it’s like they’ve stepped back into the Hive…

Worse, maybe.

Zanadu is oppressive. Heavy and desolately cold.

Their ears are ringing.

None of what Khan says actually registers.

Deep clicking laughter echoes over in their head.

Washing everything else out.

Their skin starts to crawl, almost vibrate, goosebumps rising with the cold that feels to have already settled behind the scar on their chest. Eyes alight on the street before them, flooded with Shadow creatures. Not Weavers and Arachna like they are familiar with, but real proper denizens of Shadow itself. Things that match the things they summon, the forms they can wrap themself in.

The wizard is dizzy again, the ground beneath their feet has abruptly gone sideways. Vision fading in and out. Hazed over. A voice near them. Too far away beyond the rushing in their ears. Every limb feels locked in place. How is it they can be swaying and feel so still—trying to take a breath, failing for how their lungs seem thick and waterlogged.

“Hey!” Something finally sharp enough to cut through the static, Duncan has them by the shoulders, when had that happened?

The wizard blinks hard, twisting out of his grip and looking around.

The nearest of the creatures have moved on.

Seemingly uninterested—for now—in the groups’ presence.

“What in Raven’s name is wrong with you?” Duncan demands, and he’s not the only one looking at them as though some kind of justification is needed.

Well.

Tough.

“Nothing.” They lie, “We need to get out of the street. Khan—where did you say we were headed?”

“Wizard—”

“—I said it’s nothing.” They repeat, sharper now. “We’re wasting time.”

Breathe.

In.

Hold……

Out.

Over and over and over. Steps and words and breathing and a separation from their own body. The cold isn’t there if they ignore it. The darkness like mist trailing around their feet doesn’t have a shape if they just stop looking. They can manage until this is over. They have no other choice.

~*~

Repeatedly, every time they step back into the streets, Duncan watches the wizard struggle to get a handle on something. Every time there is a moment where their form almost shakes with the effort of trying to keep it in. So much that the energy of it is pouring visibly off them.

The first time he hadn’t wanted to assume.

Zanadu was…intense.

It reminds him uncomfortably of certain corners of Darkmoor he had spent much of the last year in.

Still, he kept his mouth shut. Gave them the benefit of the doubt. But kept watch on the way the Shadow slinking like an oil-slick made smoke seemed to twist around the wizard’s legs every time they stopped for too long.

And for a while it seems they can manage it.

With discomfort and difficulty.

But managed nonetheless.

It happens in a split second.

“—wait!”

The formless Shadow that hangs around all their feet like fog draws towards the wizard and Duncan throws out an arm to stop the rest of the crew moving forward. The wizard looks back, eyes briefly brown, then gold, then gone as the side of their jaw seems to rip open from lip to temple with Shadow. Splitting apart into that faceless dark as it swallows them. Leaving the thing he’d seen in Nidavellir behind. Not quite Shrike, not quite Seraph, winged and clawed and wild.

It stares at him.

Or, it stares as much as he can tell without seeing eyes.

The moment breaks and the wizard takes off towards the main square, wings carrying them far faster than could be followed.

“Do they typically do that?” Pork asks, watching the street they had disappeared down in concern.

“No,” Duncan tells him, “the rest of you should head back towards the leisure dome—I have seen this happen once before—it’ll be safer if you just let me handle it.”

What he means by handle it he has yet to figure out.

If it just means dragging their unconscious body back from somewhere? That’s doable.

If it means fighting them while they’re in that form?

…He has his doubts.

Even if he could manage binding them to a circle—with perfect clarity comes the memory of the wizard plunging claws into the chest of that spider mage in Nidavellir. The wet crack of its exoskeleton coming apart. How little effort it seemed to take them. The fear in all those eyes.

So long as he can avoid being on the receiving end of that…

~*~

He finds them halfway through ripping a Sentinel’s armor open.

“Wizard!” He hates this. Despises it. But there’s nothing else he can call them.

Their faceless head turns toward him, watching him as it blindly finishes tearing the Sentinal below it in half. Duncan’s stomach drops, stepping back as the thing that is—and isn’t—the wizard approaches. One wingbeat enough to lift them skyward and touch down barely a foot before him.

Maybe this was a mistake—

—still.

He doesn’t have much of a choice now.

He reaches forward, hand on their chest, sinking through swirling Shadow and immediately doused in bone-deep cold. The wizard’s Shadow is bitter and sharp. It settles against his hand like a thousand tiny knives. Searching and scratching, looking for an opening to dig into. It wants to rip him apart just as much as the creature it had left dissolving behind them on the ground.

But at least some part of them seems to recognize him.

Enough not to categorize him as a threat at any rate.

He’ll take that victory for now, small as it is.

Drawing energy down into his fingers, calling the Shadow that surrounds them into his own.

Come on.

Gods are they always on the verge of this? So much pours off them that it’s hard to imagine any other answer. One person can’t hold all that power without it needing to go somewhere, the fact that they held onto it this long at all—

—he can feel his arm starting to shake, even with just the effort of pulling enough to remove the transformation. Watches the inky darkness make a home under his skin.

The wizard comes back with a ragged gasp, form vanishing in an outrush of smoke. Duncan drops his hand back to his side, hopefully before they even notice its presence at all. His fingers are numb to the point of pain, as though he’s left them sitting in an ice bath for hours on end. Blood moving slow in his veins, warmth returning but, struggling.

“Wizard?”

Their eyes snap sharply into focus, molten pupil-less gold going flat before finally fading out into brown. They even manage to look irritated for all of a few seconds before their body pitches forward, grabbing a handful of his robes before they fall too far. They don’t speak. For a moment they just stand there, catching their breath, using Duncan to keep themself upright.

“Are you—”

“—your voice is like a railroad spike—please shut up.” Hoarse and quiet and oddly echoed, as though spoken into a tunnel, the wizard finally lets go of him and steps back. Taking stock of where they ended up, shifting their shoulders like something hurts.

And then vanishing. The soft ticking of a clock accompanying the teleport.

Leaving Duncan standing alone at the steps of Khan’s palace, a quick attempt to follow being met with the return of their blocking ward. Right, new world, new ingredients needed to break through.

Of all the stupid—

—fine.

Sure.

He spares one glance back at the palace doors, and heads off toward the leisure dome again.

~*~

The wizard sits alone at the top of their watchtower.

Staring without really seeing over the grounds below.

Arms wrapped around themself.

Fingernails digging faintly into their own skin.

Breathe.

In. In in in in.

Hold.

Wait.

Out-t-t-t.

It still stutters.

Half an hour and it still stutters on the release as they shake.

Caught in their lungs.

They were supposed to have a handle on this—they had been getting better at it again, Velma had been helping. As much as she could without knowing the whole story. They should tell her the rest. They should tell her at least some.

They can’t.

Speaking it feels like making it real.

Admitting to the level at which they have ruined any chance of control.

“Shadow is tied closely to emotion, being a reflective magic, and a more…” Velma tilts her head, worrying the arm of her monocle between her teeth. “Lets say reactive in lieu of calling it truly sentient. Reflective and reactive. It takes into account what you feed into it.”

The wizard nods along, “Does it matter? What emotions it draws from?”

“Immensely!” Velma says with a grin, “Shadow drawn from pain or sadness or anger is going to look different than Shadow drawn from something like, say, determination or curiosity.”

“Those aren’t emotions.”

“Hmmm, I guess feelings might fit better. That being said there will always be an underlying emotion to those feelings, won’t there?” She seems so delighted by the discussion, by the opportunity alone to have it. It’s almost making up for how unsettled the words are beginning to make the wizard feel. “Drawing Shadow from one place over and over will create something of an unfortunate tether. You don’t want to be calling on the same feelings all the time, the same thoughts, the same power, you’ll overload yourself—not to mention the risk it could pose to the rest of your magic.”

And therein lies the problem.

The wizard’s Shadow has never come from anything other than rage and desperation.

~*~

Read the whole series here <3

#wizard101 #stevie is still stuck in the spiral #wizard101 fanfiction #w101 #wizard101 fanfic #duncan grimwater #i have a writeblr for this but shhh #w101 fanfic #w101 fandom

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