#❛ ― ic answers. / the black panther lives.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Logan Sargeant is a silly little guy

@vii-tto idk why but it wouldn't let me tag you. Hopefully you see this. also @spell-of-the-rain i added things if you want to check out 75-87

But here's the list of things i know/want to know about logan sargeant

Favorite Actor is Brad Pitt

Favorite Movie is Wolf of Wall Street

Favorite food is a hamburger

Has a boat and often goes deep sea fishing

Lived in London since he was 15

Lose Yourself by Eminem is his favorite hype up song

Is a Dolphins and Heat fan

Enjoyed “No Man, No Cry” by Jimmy Sax

Drinks iced lattes with oat milk

Pumpkin spice lattes?? Edit 12/16/23: No

Has been to Wimbledon

Knows what cricket is

Has a rescue dog named Coco

Also enjoys hockey Edit 11/1/23: Supports the Florida Panthers NHL team and has gone to at least 1 of their games with his friend Kyle Kirkwood

Does he follow college football?

What does he think of the new Miami head coach? 

If not for motorsport, does he think he would have gone pro in a different sport, and if so which one?

Enjoys listening to 50 Cent (is also a big rap fan in general)

Can he speak any other languages with any degree of familiarity?

Cannot draw

Can make a sandwich (other foods?)

Rates all food from one bite and with weird decimals

Gritty-ed in his f1 car

Makes the Williams photographers look like they take good photos

Does he have an English or a Florida driver’s license? And does he still have US citizenship even though he lives in the UK? What kind of visa is he on?

Top three female athletes? (Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Megan Rapinoe are all acceptable answers) 

Collects Aussies and Kiwis for friends

Does he like the snow? Prefers the heat but does he like snow?

Does he like Missy Elliot? (Requirement) 

“Basic Halloween Bitch”

Calls people “mate” but in an American accent which will never stop being funny

Eye Crinkles™️

Does not have a set eye color he’s just too mystical for that

Has never been to a concert (presumably too busy with racing)

He can swim, he can drive, but can he ride a bike? Edit 11/15/23: He can indeed ride a bike

American commercial cars or  European ones?

Has an older brother but is like an older brother to Benny’s kid

Likes marshmallows

Does not like black beans

Did not think apple could be chips

Knows how to sail??

Knows how to golf

Can paddle (required for any F1 driver)

Lost the F3 championship in 2020 bc of a DNF in the last race

Can he sing??

Does he drink energy drinks? Red Bull or Monster? 

He and Duracell are passionately making out

Blush is very pretty 

Wears a lot of baseball hats

Somehow beat jet lag (expat king)

Mostly spends his nights in but he has some nights out (presumably very interesting ones)

Has an iPhone with a blue case

He looks very pretty in blue

His eyes are sometimes blue

Blue=fav color?? Edit 11/6/23: favorite color is Ocean blue (credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

Pretty insecure (armchair diagnosed anxiety)

Close with his brother and parents but maybe not his extended family?

Is Florida State his college team?? (Worst thing a man can be is a Florida St fan) Edit 12/16/23: believing that FSU got screwed over this year is acceptable

Did he graduate high school??

Did he ever consider going into NASCAR or did moving to Europe at a young age kind of set in stone his path towards open-wheel racing?

Hair is blond/dirty blond

Does he vote in American elections?? (If he supports RonD I cannot stan)

Burger Sauce™️

Logan Hunter Sargeant, certified Frat Bro, most American man ever

Has seen peaky blinder and presumably stranger things

Knows how to carve a pumpkin but has not celebrated Halloween at home in a bit

Possibly dating some instagram model

Caused $4 million in damages, gets payed $1 million a year, and supposedly brings in $30 million in sponsors

Key phrases: “Locked in”, “Bam/Boom”, “Done and dusted” Additions 11/1/23: "Oh hell yeah", "I think you're a little lost here, Chief". Additions 11/6/23: “Yeh” (gets quieter throughout the word (how it’s one syllable??)), “on the bounce” (credit to @spell-of-the-rain i believe)

Joined the Williams Driver Academy in 2021 

Got stuck in F3 bc he didn’t have the money to move up

Driver for Carlin in 2022

Former teammates include Liam Lawson, Oscar Piastri, Frederick Vesti (Edit 11/6/23: Max Fewtrell possibly?)

DOB: December 31, 2000

5'11

Had a giveaway for gloves he used to win an F4 race on Twitter in 2017 and both Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell replied

Originally his number was 3 but he switched to 2 for F1 (to much fan consternation who thought he had so many better options)

Childhood best friends with Kyle Kirkwood, a current Indycar driver

Logan's older brother Dalton raced in NASCAR until 2018

Did a commercial for Sport23

Does not have cowboy boots as of COTA 2023

Born in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, USA

lived in Switzerland from 14-15(?)

knows the conversion rate for a kilometer

is taller than a tuna fish

Podiumed at the Macau Grand Prix in 2019

Won the CIK-FIA championship when he was 14 Additions as of 11/1/23

Loves waffles but they are not his favorite dessert

Very patriotic (oh hell yeah)

is the first American F1 point scorer in 30 years and the first one to score on home soil since 1989

Went to see the Nets in NYC (but would have preferred to see the Knicks)

has a custom Miami Dolphins jersey with his last name on the back

Claims to know all the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" (credit to @formulaaone) (Edited 11/6/23)

Additions as of 11/6/23:

Under the same talent agency as Alex Albon

Has the same manager as George Russell

George Russell was his mentor coming up

Went to a catholic private school (credit to @wenevrknew)

Does not like fish? (Credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

He runs weird (in my opinion as he reminds me of my brother when he was 12 (he ran very strangely))

Karted in Las Vegas when he was a kid

Can he drive a stick shift? (Alex believes he cannot)

Enjoys video games

Refers to his car as “she”

Knew how to attach a visor to his helmet prior to February(? Could’ve been March but before the season) 2023

Additions as of 12/16/23

Broke his arm in a 2014 German Karting Championship when Marcus Armstrong took him out at T1 (credit to @spell-of-the-rain )

Has gotten his head eaten by the Golden Knights mascot

If he could have any superpower, he would like to teleport

Has never flown a drone

Favorite racing movie is Talladega Nights (sad Mater noises)

Does not trust other people to drive him

Would rather sleep in then get up early

Considers himself fairly organized

His mother makes a very good sweet potato casserole

Got his habit of worrying from his mom

“Santa’s Little Helper”

Driving for Williams Racing Formula 1 Team in 2024

Got out qualified by his teammate every race of 2023

[sassycheesecake]

yakuza!Tetsurō Kuroo x Reader "The Panther"

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, blood, violence, death

Kenma is currently walking down the hallway towards his friend and Kumicho’s room of Nekoma headquarters, Tetsurō Kuroo.

He has a big notepad in his hands, news from the spies in the city about their rivals the Crows of Karasuno.

The sound of his all star sneakers echo on the black marble floor, it’s shine shows that the place is kept tidy and clean.

Finally arriving at the door, before Kenma can even knock, he hears giggles from your side and loud obnoxious kisses from Kuroo‘s side that the dyed blonde wishes he could immediately erase from his brain.

Nonetheless, he sighs in annoyance and knocks loudly, a habit he thankfully put on after the last time he walked in without knocking.

Needless to say, he’s been scarred of the image of you, naked, on top of Kuroo, giving him a blowjob.

"Who is it? I specifically said not to be disturbed." Kuroo answers with anger in his voice.

"It’s Kenma. I know you said that but Yaku said that he caught some crows in our habitat. Trying to convince our usual costumers that their shit is better than ours."

The Saiko Komon hears shuffling on the other side, along with some squeaks of the bed.

"Come in." Kuroo calls his trusted friend and advisor in.

Opening the door, Kenma sees you and the ravenette getting dressed.

You having put on a red silk robe, fix your hair a little bit to the side, trying to cover your hickeys while Kuroo just puts on loose sweats, staying bare-chested.

His whole upper body is covered in tattoos, on his back a giant black panther roaring into the viewers face, his left arm a mixture between various skulls that have water and fire going through them like a wild tornado. On his other arm, dark clouds with red spider lilies and a scarred face of a geisha decorate his skin.

On his chest however, is a Japanese cherry blossom flower with your name in it and it’s Kuroo‘s most important tattoo. It shows he is bonded to you for the rest of your lives, he wears it on his skin with pride and smugness.

You however have not a single patch of ink on your skin.

"Hello Kenma." You smile with a blush on your face, clearly still flustered by your previous activities with your lover.

Kuroo is walking around the bed with the messy sheets towards Kenma and the golden-eyed man spots an open pair of handcuffs at the headboard and he looks away to the side, embarrassed on the inside to figure out what the the two of you have been doing.

"Hey (Y/N)." Kenma replies back quietly, keeping his focus on the ravenette with the messy hair and lipstick marks across his face, neck and chest.

"Kitten, why don’t you get us something small to refresh on? I could go for a Campfire Straight Rye with some ice in it." Kuroo turns to you with a smile, while taking Kenma‘s notepad from him.

You nod and make your way to the attached kitchen, ah the luxury of Kuroo’s belongings never fails to amaze you.

While you’re gone, Kuroo‘s smile is instantly gone and replaced with a frown.

Looking over the notes and attached photos of beat up faces, Kuroo rubs his hand over his tired face, the responsibility over an entire organization sometimes kicks his ass and he wishes that he could spend it more with you instead.

"So where are the little rats now?" Kuroo asks while cracking his neck from side to side.

"In the torture room. Yamamoto and Kai are currently trying to gather information out of them as we speak."

You return from the kitchen, in one of your hands a small glass with honey-colored liquid and round ice cubes floating in it.

Handing it to him, he wraps his long arm around your waist, pulling you to his side while giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, not caring that Kenma is still in the room.

Gulping down the drink in one go, the ravenette hands the glass back to you with a small smile.

"Thanks baby. I am really sorry, I gotta take care of some business with Kenma." He leans his forehead against yours, rubbing your nose with his.

"No worries, I understand, I‘ll be waiting here." Giving you one last kiss, Kuroo picks up his discarded white shirt from the floor, following the Saiko Komon into the direction where they torture and question people for information.

"Kuroo, you’re covered in (Y/N)‘s lipstick, clean yourself up if you want to keep your reputation."

Rubbing his face off, he gets most of the kiss marks off, grinning sheepishly at his friend.

"That feisty little cat needs to mark her territory. You know her."

"Please spare me the details." Kenma says in disgust.

Standing guard in front of the door, Lev let’s both of them inside and Kuroo can hear the throwing punches and the groans of pain that follow by it.

"Ahhh, Eiji my friend, long time no see." Kuroo sings in greeting.

Hearing the leader‘s voice, Yamamoto stops and steps aside.

The middle aged man that is hunched over in a strapped chair looks up with big eyes, fear reflecting among them.

Eiji works as one of the spies for Karasuno, unfortunately the cats caught him faster than he could escape.

"Where’s your friend? I thought you birdbrains work in teams together." Kuroo bends down a bit, looking into the blonde man‘s face.

Eiji doesn’t answer, still struck with fear, parts of his face swollen and already turning blue.

Grabbing his short hair, Kuroo raises Eiji’s head which has him flinching strongly.

"Answer me dipshit. Why the fuck would you think it’d be a smart idea to enter our district?" The Kumicho almost roars like an angry panther.

"I-I am sorry! The boss said I should try to expand the Crows‘ grounds. I-I was just trying to sell a little bit I swear!" Eiji cries in fear.

Kuroo hums, only giving a snap of his fingers towards Yamamoto and he understands immediately.

When the blonde saw that his torturer pulls out his Sig P938, he is shaking, desperately trying to get Kuroo‘s mercy.

Before Eiji can say anymore though, Yamamoto pulls the trigger.

The blood from Eiji‘s head lands on Kuroo‘s face and partly on his shirt.

A sudden vibration of his phone makes the ravenette curious, opening it up to see it’s a nude picture from you and he grins widely like a Cheshire Cat, texting you back as he turns to walk back to his room.

"If you‘ll excuse me now, I gotta finish what I started earlier." Kuroo lastly says before going back to the direction of his room where you wait in anticipation.

When Kuroo is gone, Yamamoto snickers while he cleans the blood off of the instruments he used on Eiji.

"He is so whipped for that woman. Did you know he has her contact saved as 'Feisty little minx'?" Yamamoto laughs.

"Well be glad you haven’t seen them having sex, it still haunts my nightmares." Kenma adds bluntly with a shudder.

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 2 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series! The plot thickens...

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Woah. This is... incredible.

I mean, it was incredible when I looked up and saw a fucking castle, but this? All this shiny white and gold? I feel like I'm going to be a royal's personal servant. But, this is Pomefiore dorm- and I'm in Pomefiore! Does that mean I'm the royal?

"Alright!" Vil's call for attention is met with the ceasing of the oohs and aahs in favor of all eyes on him. He looks powerful, but not in an intimidating way- rather, I feel drawn to him. Based on the body language of those around me, though, that might just be a "me and Grim" thing. The kid on my right looks meek.

"Third years, you know what to do. Second years, you do what the third years are doing. Rook, on my left. First years, I am still waiting on the list with all your names on it, so you will be placed into your dorm rooms now. Those of you with feline slash feline-adjacent familiars, stand in the circle." With magic, he draws a large, glowing blue outline of a circle on the floor to his right. I look at Grim and make our way through the crowd, my cat on my shoulder, and stand in the circle. There are nine people standing on Vil's right by the end of it, including me.

While I have Grim, there's a kid on my right with white hair, caramel skin, and an ice-blue panther-looking thing that's about as tall at the shoulder as he is at the hip. Its eyes are completely black, like ink, and it's apparently just as confused as its human.

To my left is a kid with an opossum. The 'possum has a deep blue body and tail, along with a white head that almost makes it look like the thing is wearing a skull. Its eyes are seagreen everywhere except the pupils.

Vil points at the kid on my left. "What's your name?"

"K-Korrak." The kid rolls the r as he says it.

"Alright, and what's your name?" He's pointing at me now. But, before I can stutter out my answer at the question I should've been anticipating, Grim answers for me.

"I'm Grim!" Vil does not appear as amused as he did. Grim, taking notice, adds, "and this is Yuu."

"You? I do not believe that is me."

"No, no, Yuu. Y-u-u, not y-o-u."

"Ah, okay. Yuu, Korrak, you two will be in room 109. There is a cat tree for your familiars to share and two cat beds for them to split. Here you are." He hands me a key with the Pomefiore crest on the end. Upon examining it, the number 109 is engraved on it.

"You two may now go to your dorm room and get settled in. I trust you know how to retrieve your things?" Korrak nods. Grim and I say nothing. Vil smiles, as though pleased. "Off you go, then."

Room 109 is easy to find. It's on the left, just like every other odd number, and is on the first floor. The door is huge, large enough to fit me and Korrak shoulder-to-shoulder with Korrak's familiar standing on his head, not touching the top of the doorframe.

Inside, there's two twin canopy beds, two small, blue cat beds, two pristine white nightstands, and- as promised- a cat tower, right in the middle. I take the canopy bed on the right. Korrak flops down onto his new bed, waves his magic pen, and starts unpacking the luggage he just summoned. There isn't much- just a two rolly bags and a backpack.

Korrak's familiar takes notice of my staring. "Pilot parents," it says, "everything has to fit on a plane." I nod. This new world has airplanes, too, huh?

There's a knock on the door. "Come in," Shouts the 'possum. Vil opens the door.

"Yuu, come with me. Now." I immediately approach, Grim now on my head, to follow Vil down the hall and into what looks to be a makeup department you'd see in a "behind the scenes: live-action movie" documentary.

A blonde boy I recognize as Rook is already standing there, motioning for me to sit in one of the chairs. I look to Vil for confirmation before taking the seat. Rook takes Grim off of my head, sits in the chair next to mine, and places Grim on the counter in front of him.

All Grim has time to say is, "myaah?" Before Rook pulls out a cat brush and starts brushing my familiar's fur. Grim soon settles into the comforting sensation with a continuous purrrrrr.

"Yuu. Look at me." Vil's voice draws my attention once more, and I look directly into his violet eyes. "Why the fuck is your hair this matted? When did you last brush it?"

"Uhh... good question. I'd tell you if I knew."

My answer is honest. The rage in Vil's eyes is bright like floodlights.

"Why don't you know?" I shrug. Vil's voice is low and nearly sinister- but not quite.

"Grim." Vil's head snaps toward Rook, as though daring him to speak again. "When was the last time Yuu brushed his hair?"

Grim shrugs. "I dunno. We met just before the ceremony."

The upperclassmen now appear confused, Vil more so than Rook. "You... Just met? Today?" Vil alone speaks at first, but his and Rook's voices blend together for the final word.

"Yeah, Grim wanted to enroll and broke open a coffin-box so he could have a uniform."

"Hench-Human knew my name. Somehow, I knew his. Dunno how that works, but that probably means he's my familiar, right?"

Both the blondes are stunned into silence. Rook is the first to break it.

"So, did you meet and magically bind as children, only to forget and be reunited years later as familiars?" He looks... exited now. "Beauté!"

"Probably not," I jump in, "given that I'm not from a world with magic, and can't use any myself."

Vil looks shocked. "What do you mean, you can't use magic? How in tarnation did you get a spot at Night Raven College with no magic?"

"Hell if I know. Hey, where are we? I know we're in Pomefiore dorm at Night Raven, but... geographically, where are we?"

Vil sighs. It's obvious that he never expected that question, or the lack of magic.

"Twisted Wonderland, spud. That's the broadest way I can put it."

"Okay. Broadest way I can put it, I'm from the Milky Way Galaxy."

Now he's looking at me weird.

"We are in the Twisted Galaxy's Selm system, on the specific planet 'Wonder.' People usually call our planet 'Twisted Wonderland.' With that in mind, where are you from?" Rook's elaboration gives me a better idea of what to say next.

"Earth, of the Milky Way Galaxy's Sol system. I've only really heard people call it 'Earth.'"

"Myaah, I never knew Twisted Wonderland was the name of the planet! That's so cool!"

Vil sighs and starts cutting my hair. "Let's... worry about that after we get this rat's nest off your head." Rook goes back to brushing Grim. For a moment, I allow myself to believe everything is okay. And, for the first time in my life, that feels true.

[shimmerbeasts]

Stalking The Wounded Dog

Following Vi had been a thing of ease.

When an animal was wounded enough, it usually tried to find refuge in some secluded spot where it could bleed out in peace and safe from the leering eyes of predators. Not Vi though. Vi chose to take her wounds and wear them like black paint on her skin, presenting herself for all the leering predators and their salivating jaws as if she was daring them to rip her apart.

While Jinx apparently made a mockery of Zaun's animalism by becoming more than a predator, Vi made a mockery of her heritage by turning her role in the natural order inside out. Vi had not filed down her fangs and claws as Jinx had feared. She had done something worse. She had traded those weapons for bucking hooves and piercing horns. She had made herself a wounded prey animal and she fought with the fear of death against everybody in that ring.

The air in the hall of the underground fighting ring was stale and dusty. The sickly pale green light of lamps installed in the ceiling reminded Jinx of Zaun. Funny how that worked. Ever since her rocket, it seemed some of her home's violence had spilt over into perfect Piltover. The floor had been busted open to expose the rot underneath.

The hall was packed. A sea of people from the lower houses and classes of Piltover. Enforcers, cobblers, traders. All those, who did not have enough money to live in a house of marble and gold. Jinx thought she could even catch sight of the leering, leathery hides of Zaunites with their flashing fangs, rolling tongues and clicking claws. She let herself be pushed forth by the maelstrom, cocooned in a simple greyish-brown hood to conceal her telltale blue bangs and startling purple eyes. The visitors were creating a pooling river from the betting stands over towards the edges of the arena where you could look inside.

Jinx finally reached the betting stand. In a swing sat a yordle with grey skin and sunken, green eyes; his fat, little body was practically trapped in an ugly, bright yellow jacket. Jinx wondered idly if his guts would spill coins as she watched him munch on a few tentacles, riddled with grittle.

"Yes?", he asked.

"Red betting cards", Jinx ordered, her voice quiet and hoarse. She rummaged in her cloak in search of her coin purse and asked idly: "Is it possible to meet the young upstart post-stage?"

The yordle let out a throaty laugh, spit flying in Jinx's face. She remained unmoving, though her nostrils twitched and her lips pulled down.

"You are a fan of our young upstart, eh?", the ringleader said with a slimy grin on his round, bat-like face, "Can see why. That crazy butch has been wiping the competition left and right since she started here. Brought in a nice sum of money."

"In a manner of speaking", Jinx answered the question, "Now can you arrange this or not?"

The yordle shook his head and said: "Sorry, cutie, but normally, we don't do behind-the-scenes meetings. Though maybe I make an exception for you, sweetie. Go all in with something that is worth it. If our violent panther wins, you are free to meet her."

Jinx reached under her cloak again and procured her Zapper pistol. The yordle's eyes went wide. He called: "Oh, that's a fancy gadget you got there, cutie. All in then?" Jinx slammed Zapper on the wood and shoved him in the direction of the yordle. Her voice was like ice as she said: "All in."

The crowd was in uproar as the beginning of the first match drew nearer. Jinx let herself be manoeuvred closer to the edge of the pit. Standing between two other burly men, who almost obscured her from view, a single purple eye stared down at the pit, burning with fever.

The ring leader's voice came over a speaker as he shouted: "Good evening lads and lassies! Welcome to the first round of Piltover's Boxing League! Today we have an exciting match for y'all! Are you ready?" The crowd cheered, whooped and stomped their feet. "In the right corner, we have our defender of the golden belt! Last year's champion! You know him, you love him! Give it up for Thundering Thomas!"

Under a loud roar, a large, muscular man a good two times Vi's size came running into the ring. He only wore a pair of shorts, adorned with the aforementioned golden belt, a heavy leather item, adorned with a giant golden buckle. He had pale blond hair, which looked like he had been struck by lightning once, judging by how weirdly jagged it sat on his head. The man pounded his chest, roaring as loudly as possible while the crowd cheered him on.

Jinx stayed silent, though as the part of the announcement, she was actually here for, came through, she grinned wily. "And in the left corner, we have his challenger! You were just as surprised by her upstart as I was! Give a hearty welcome to the newest and most vicious member of our ring! Don't let her claws hit you. Here is Tigress!"

Excited thrills and whistles could be heard. Someone very drunk in the back row yelled: "Please go out with me!" Jinx gave a derisive snort, however, she gave a hearty clap, her rhythm a similar pattern to the slow clap, Silco had done in the cannery so many years ago. As the yordle prepared to bang the gong, shouting for bets, Jinx merely raised her hand with cold confidence, flashing one of the few red cards in the entire room. She fell silent, purple gaze locked exclusively on Vi as the gong rang in her ears.

@ferinehuntress

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP I have been thoroughly wrecked by Yoongi. HIS VOICE? HIS CHARISMA??

My god. He's been your bias since debut?! You're strong woman. How did you do it?? One concert and I'm ready to bear kids for him. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

/gen

*

Ask 2: I'm sorry!!! But look at this!!!! twitter com/sujimschim/status/1652517741226790913 looolll I think army's gonna be okay (pun intended lol) Sorry I think I'm having a post wlive high right now. lol Also did you hear about that insanely lucky army who got Yoongi video on their phone AND got to sit next to Jimin during the concert?! Like WOW. I'm amazed. Isn't that harder than the lottery?? lol Ok I'll really stop. Have a good night!!

*

Ask 3: A TO THE G TO THE U TO THE STD

*

Ask 4: Yoongi looks SO GOOD IN WHITE T WALKING DOWN THE HALLWAYYYYYYSSSSSS?!@#@!K?!@! THANK YOU JIMIN FOR SCOLDING YOOOONNNNGGGGIIIIII!!!!!!!!!

*

Ask 5: I love how Yoongi sticks to his first iteration of Sorry for being cute choreo. That choreo is becoming a lore of its own. yoominforlife lol Also OMGGGG his concert haegeum performance is gonna be LIT. I personally really love the name of the song and all the word play that's hidden inside it

*

Ask 6: i want to fuck yoongi till the paint peels off the walls i need to suck his thick fat cock clean empty, gobble his midas balls till i gag and after that read him my deontological critique of neitzche's assertion that god is dead. because god is well and truly alive and i just sucked his balls dry. i was lost and stupid in the wilderness of my ignorance of his divine hotness. i doubted your mind for your esteemed love for him. i was foolish but he has made me a believer. i want to be shoooshed by yoongi. then fuck him till he blacks out. consensually.

sorry. pls don't hate me bpp yoongi just drives me so fucking insane.

*

Ask 7: D-Day tour setlist is INSANE. Banger after friggin baanger Bpp! Have you tried to rank Suga's songs before? All his solo songs too can you rank them Bpp?

***

Hi Anon(s),

Anon in ask 2, your link. And yeah, that person was super lucky. 💜

I need to confess to y’all. I caved and got myself an earlier ticket. Usually, I buy my tickets for later in the tour to give myself time to calm down and adjust. I’d have spoiled the setlist for myself, listened to it ad infinitum till the lyrics were ingrained and my hormones were in equilibrium. But this time I couldn’t wait till the Cali dates, (still going). I had to see Yoongi tonight.

And Christ, I have ascended.

I know I will not be coherent, I’m already trying to self censor as I write , but I want to get this out here because many of you have sent me asks about him, some I know I can’t post ever, so I’m hoping someone else gets it whatever it is I’m tying to say.

…

Yoongi is so beautiful.

Yoongi is a rock star, and I mean that in a literal sense. He makes rock music, thinks like a rock star, and sings like a rock star. His live renditions of Amygdala are the perfect example of this. Pairing screamo rock in the chorus with the guitar solos in the outro, everything about Yoongi's vision for that song is centered around liberation, a value that's inherent to a rock star.

*

(Yes. That’s the objective correct answer.)

I laughed reading all your asks btw. (Anon in ask 6, I see you, I get you, and I don't judge you.) Ranking Agust D's songs is impossible for me. My personal taste is screamo rock and dirty trap or drill, I like songs with distinct percussion, lots of guitars, and/or distortion, voice cracks, autotune, etc. Artists like Nirvana, ONE OK ROCK, Kendrick Lamar, Twenty One Pilots, and Jimin give me bits and pieces of that sound, but no one in BTS knows how to scratch that itch for me better than Yoongi.

He’s just the right kind of insane to speak my language.

The duality that shimmers around Jimin like a mirage and is central to his magnetism, where you can’t be sure of who, what, exactly you’re looking at - man, woman, child, king, snake, panther, cat, metal, silk, fire, ice - all in one. That duality, lives in Yoongi’s music.

It’s elsewhere too, but it lives in his music. Even underneath all of that, he just makes some of the best music around.

That beat change at the end of Shadow? That's music tailor-made for me. Cypher Pt 3, AGUST D (the song), What Do You Think?, Trivia: Seesaw, the live performances of HUH?! and Amygdala are a revelation. All his music sounds perfectly made for me.

I honestly have no choice but to love him.

(I have no words when it comes to Yoongi.)

I won’t exactly rank his music here. I’ll discuss some of my favourites based on things like production, message, flow, feel, etc. Maybe.

Production

724148

This song is criminally underrated. I mean it's a crime more people aren't screaming from the rooftops about how crisp this track is. Listening to 724148 was the first time it really hit me how brilliant Yoongi is as a producer.

So Far Away ft Suran

You need to listen to this song on good speakers. It will change your life for the better. Do that, then come back here and tell me how you feel.

Burn It ft MAX

You know, when I heard the live performance of this song, I called a friend to help me re-calibrate my speakers. To recreate that feel. The production on the song is insane. Not to mention Yoongi's flow in the second verse.

Amygdala

The guitars are placed and layered perfectly. I love how forward the drums are in the mix. The autotune is one of my favourite things about it too. The entire song is perfect.

Daechwita

Am I the only person who hears the same static in the song intro that continues faintly in the foreground for the entirety of the song? As though you're entering a glitch. It's so sick. The main/central beat doesn't vary much, all the texture comes from Yoongi's adlibs. And he does an excellent job elevating it to something more.

*

(It truly embarrasses me that I cannot allow myself to talk about him. He’s that… much.)

Flow / Delivery

You've all seen me go on and on about Jimin's vocals. About how much Jimin's voice is the catalyst for ecstasy when I listen to BTS's music. But Yoongi's voice affects me just as strongly, if not more, in a very different way.

I’m a sucker for the kitten. That insane high pitched thing he does drives me to the limits of my sanity. But he’s also a natural baritone. A nasty one at that. You can hear it in the music he makes. And that’s my kryptonite.

Have you listened to HUH?! Like, really listened to it? Do you hear his flow from 1:08 - 1:15?

Do you hear how disgusting this brat is?

Fuck.

Let’s just move on.

Some favourites where his flow, delivery, switch-ups, is frankly ridiculous:

Shadow

Burn It ft. MAX

AGUST D

HUH?! ft j-hope

Cypher Pt. 3

Aside, the instrumental of this track, along with Cypher Pt. 4, Dionysus trap remix, Danger MMA 2019 version, and We Are Bulletproof Eternal, is incredible.

*

Feel

Honsool

Making a list based on pure vibes, Honsool has to show up. Yoongi captured the unmoored, untethered feeling of drifting through haze, distilled and crystalized into Honsool. Genius.

Give It To Me

What Do You Think?

HUH ft j-hope

Tony Montana ft. Jimin

I'm a sucker for the grit in their voices in this song. The live version specifically.

(He’s such a problem for me y’all…)

*

Not to get into this, but he also does sweet, poppy songs too. Some faves being That That, Amygdala, People, Trivia: Seesaw…

He is a true artist.

And nothing is hotter than that.

*

Message

I started writing this long paragraph about the themes in his music and stopped because I’ve really gone on long enough. I’m barely keeping it together here. I just saw him lose his mind with happiness at the ARMY who disguised her iPhone as a Samsung. That wide smile on his face is still replaying in my head. I’m happy he’s happy, because he’s made me so happy.

Anyway, some fave tracks I reach for, for their message:

5 - Strange ft RM

4 - UGH

3 - Snooze ft Ryuichi Sakamoto & Woosung

2 - Amygdala

1 - People

In a class of its own, I have to mention The Last. That song is a reckoning and wake up call. It's everything and I'm forever proud of Yoongi for making it.

*

Have y’all imagined what the concert will be like in 2026? Have you really sat down to think about what it could look like? Because I have. And it looks like pure bliss. No matter what is happening in the world at that time, I must see BTS.

It’s a decision I made last June, but Yoongi on this tour has breathed fire into that desire. He’s made me want him, crave his sound, daydream of his music playing in my head…

If I could I would’ve sued this man already.

Anyway, Anon in ask 1, welcome to getting wrecked by Yoongi. He is layer upon delightful layer of loyal, creative, tortured beautiful genius hovering just on the edge of insanity. I’m hopeful that he completes his tour as planned, enlists as planned, serves as planned, and is discharged and back to BTS as planned.

In the meantime, I’ll fully enjoy the time he’s spending with us and the music he’s making for us. I’m happy y’all are joining me in this too. 💜

[ctrlsznwrites]

to wakanda

summary. after not hearing from her older brother for months, she has a few visitors at her doorstep. pairing. erik 'killmonger' stevens x aniya stevens [sibling!oc] author's note. i'm redoing this series to update it, so show me some love and hopefully i can get some new material out soon. word count. 1.23k

masterlist

Aniya was sitting in her apartment on a hot summer night in Oakland, watching the first reruns of Chicago Med. Her mind hadn’t been at rest since the last time she heard form her brother after he killed Claw before making his way to Wakanda. Letting out a deep sigh she continued to focus on the tv show while eating her ice cream. When the drink she had on her coffee stable started to shake, sitting up from her previous position. Reaching for the remote, she muted the television trying to pay close attention to the sounds from outside her apartment.

Moving quietly, she set her ice cream down on the coffee table, when there was a knock at her door. Cursing under her breathe she quickly got the gun she keeps taped under her coffee table, making her way to the door. Aniya cocked the gun taking  a deep breathe before opening the door to only be met with the Dora Milaje.

Much to her dismay, she fixed her glasses on her face before pulling her lower lips to show her mark before letting the women in. Soon enough the Black Panther followed behind them, Aniya watched as the five people made their way into her home judging her surroundings. She quickly checked the hall one last time before closing the door and locking it.

“Just give me on moment, I’m gonna put this away and we can talk about why you’re here and how you even know I exist.” Walking away before anyone could answer.

Aniya’s mind was racing as she packed away her gun, how they found her. Was it because of Erik? Was he okay? And why after all this time are they just now coming to see her? What could have happened to warrant this surprise and completely unwelcome visit.

Making her way form her coat closet in the hallway of her unit, she made her way back into the living room to see the Dora standing around her cousin who was sitting on her couch. An unpleased scuff left her mouth as she took in the whole scene in front of her.

“Excuse me your highness, I don’t know how they raised you where your from. But you speak before you take a seat in someone’s home here.” She spoke abruptly sitting across from him.

T’Challa’s face morphed into one of shock standing quickly not wanting to make this difficult trip any worse. This caused Aniya to chuckle before extending her hand for him to sit again.

“Now, what do I owe this pleasure to? Came to make nice with the traitors other love child?” T’Challa could not only hear the sarcasm that dripped from her voice but also the hurt.

“N’Jadka has requested you presence in Wakanda, he only recently made us aware of you.”

Aniya let out a chuckle of disbelief before looking him up and down. “So, let me just make this make sense for me, just bear with me please. After not hearing from the only living relative I have left, for five almost six months. He all of a sudden wants me to just drop everything I have going for myself to join him in the country to which killed me father? He can kiss my ass, and I mean that.”

Sitting back on her seat for a moment, she bit her lip trying to keep the tears at bay realizing there has to be a reason as to why it took him so long to reach out to her. And there is a reason he wants her to be with him.

Rubbing her hands up and down her face to dry her tears before trying to make sense of everything. “Alright, I’ll go but first tell me why after five months reached out for me now. And not when he got there? What happened?”

T’Challa watched as he saw the resolve of his little cousin break, seeing that she felt as if she was abandoned by her family, especially the only family she knew personally. His heart hurt for everything she went through the last few months, knowing what her brother did and the reason why she feels the way she does.

“Well for starters his entrance into Wakanda…” T’Challa went on to tell Aniya about what happened once her older brother made his way into Wakanda. As he told her about Erik dying and being revived  she fell into complete hysterics knowing that once he woke up he didn’t have family with him.

Along with the fact that he could’ve been dead forever and she wouldn’t have known, not being able to put his body to rest. Learning about everything he went through and that he was willing to leave her by herself just didn’t sit right with her. It honestly broke her spirit in a way she didn’t even expect.

Aniya let out a sigh as she moved her hands up and down her face. “So, did you know about me after he was hospitalized, or did he tell you after he woke up?”

“We found out about you after he was hospitalized, but before we could reach out to you he woke up and wanted for you to be there when he was ready.”

Aniya nodded clasping her hands open and closed in anger that her brother didn’t want her to be there for him. “Give me an hour and I’ll be ready.” Getting up she took her almost now melted ice cream, putting it in the freezer.

As she walked to her room grabbed her suitcase, while picking out clothes she saw her reflection in her mirror. Her hand went to her necklace, it was the only thing she had of her mother. It was a necklace her father gave her before he died, and her mother gave her the necklace before she died 15 years ago. 

Sniffling she looked away and continued to pack trying not to think about the fact that Erik was willing to leave her alone in this world knowing he was the only real family she had. They had gone through everything together and she didn’t even know the real reason he went to Wakanda.

“I swear to god when I see that nigga it’s on sight.” She mumbled to herself as she finished zipping up her bag.

Slipping on a pair of vans, she grabbed a few more things before making her way to the front where her three unexpected guests were. Nodding, she signaled she was ready to go. They continued their way to the roof after she had locked up her apartment.

They all boarded the aircraft where there was a beyond awkward silence. Looking around she saw how advanced everything was and now she understood why her father betrayed his country. They got to live in a utopia without worrying while her people were dying for just existing. She scuffed feeling this bubble of anger sit in her chest that she had to deal with her best friend being shot in front of her while her cousins didn’t have to worry about living to see the next day.

“Is something wrong?” A Dora asked looking over her shoulder.

Aniya shook her head no, deciding she didn’t trust herself not to snap at the older woman. Closing her eyes, she leaned into her seat trying to relax, she was finally going to Wakanda.

[clawbehavior]

Hello (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

I am sending u warm wishes ✨

For the ask game :

7,15 & 17

6 (everything, everywhere all at once)

18 (my heart is going back to you, i just don't know) and/or (skin deep)

19 (final coda)

21 (skin deep) and/or (till kingdom come) and/or (elevator troubles)

I apologize for having so many questions, i simply love your writing 😅

not only do i appreciate that you asked a bunch of questions, i love that you asked about these specific stories! they've been on my mind lately, which you somehow picked up on?? i thoroughly enjoyed answering your asks and appreciate you sharing that you love my writing. sending many warm wishes for the weekend anon ❤️❤️

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

everything everywhere all at once (once i finish it). i spent all my free time July last year plotting out where corruption happens in government and how it trickles down into gaon and yohan's lives. i was doodling in the back of my notebooks and working through several Google docs at once. that experience was rewarding because i got to move between multiple layers of the story, thinking not just of how gaon and yohan relate to each other when gaon's in debt, but also how their ties with the rest of the world actively shapes their romance. that agility makes me proud of myself.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

'til kingdom come' because i LOVE fantasy, when fics of this genre are a rarity in this fandom. plus, i liked the new context to their initial meeting in the office, where instead of staring because gaon looks like isaac, yohan's staring at his long-lost and oblivious lover. but i honestly love all my au's and my favorites change because it's the one i'm writing at the time pfft.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

an au inspired by 'his dark materials'! yohan's demon is a male black panther named baheera. gaon's is a white doe. the story would deal with touch, in that gaon and yohan's demon touch all the time but through layers like clothes and latex gloves. yohan doesn't know because he and baheera can be in separate rooms, but when he finds out he's PISSED because touching another person's demon is reserved strictly for family and lovers, when gaon is neither. and then we find out that it was yohan and gaon's demon who touched first, because when the office got destroyed, she tackled yohan to the floor ro shield him. gaon didn't see and she never told him. 

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

fic: everything everywhere all at once 

this is serendipitous because i was thinking of this exact story when i read the question and so were you it turns out! remember how ms. ji experiments with food to disastrous results? the culprit in this story is elijah. she mixes together strange assortments of flavors and foods to the point that if she orders something normal (like plain vanilla ice cream), yohan knows she's upset.

18. If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

fics:

- my heart is going back to you: sunah kidnapping gaon

-  skin deep: a fluff one shot of gaon supporting yohan's particular brand of parenting. yes, we can read him The ABC's of Firearms for Kids. no, he cannot accompany you on a hunting expedition when it means staying up past his bedtime, etc.

19. If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve?

fic: final coda 

gaon healing his relationship with elijah. this story draws on the New Testament interpretation that Jesus ordered Judas to betray him. similarly, yohan knew it was coming but let it happen anyways. elijah never knew, and she was ripped apart by the experience. that's hard to bounce back from, so gaon would make a concerted effort to do so. the story ends with elijah visiting him in Switzerland and preparing an elaborate meal for him. 

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

fics: 

- skin deep: gaon meeting min jungho for lunch after he gets the implant removed, and having to play it cool even though he's afraid of the professor

- til kingdom come: a flashback to their original lives where the prince saves the commander's battalion from an ambush, disobeying his father's command in the process. this is when the commander realizes how in love the prince is with him. they sleep together for the first time. (i actually wrote this scene fully. the only reason it's not published is because it felt like a random chapter instead of a plot driven update, but i think about it a lot.)

- elevator troubles: smut in yohan's office.

- eeaao:  yohan returning home to find gaon deeply asleep in his bed & realizing he's in love with gaon. he compares the feeling to being stabbed

[bloodofthewitch]

❝ you have the biggest heart. it is your greatest quality and probably also your greatest flaw. ❞Is that ASA BUTTERFIELD? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually OLIVER SANDERS { male, he/him }. He is a 696 year old WITCH. He is a SHOP OWNER can easily be found at HIS SHOP or SUNNYSIDE. He is known for being STUBBORN, SELF-SACRIFICING, and GUARDED but also INTELLIGENT, KIND-HEARTED, and EMPATHIC. You could probably bribe them with SWEETS or piss them off by TELLING HIM WHAT TO DO. 

Full Name: Oliver Joseph Sanders Nickname: Oli, Olive, Ols Birthday: October 31st, 1327 Age: 696 Gender: Male Species: Witch Sexuality: Homosexual Neighborhood: Sunnyside Languages: English and American Sign Language Traits: Intelligent, empathic, kind-hearted, fun-loving, determined, loyal, guarded, stubborn, self-sacrificing, hopeless romantic, witty, and mischievous

Intel:

Their Priorities: Furthering his magical education and expanding his business Muse’s soft spot: Sweets and kindness Greatest strength: Besides his magic, his big heart, and intelligence Greatest vulnerability or weakness: His big heart Muse’s secret: He sleeps with a spelled teddy bear named Rudy that his father gave him as a child Hobbies: Coloring, arts and crafts, studying magic and experimenting with it, astronomy, watching movies and anime, reading comics, drawing/painting, playing the drums, and reading books Things they love:  Star-gazing, cooking, cuddles, being caressed, hanging out with friends/family, sweets, hot coco, attention, oversized sweaters, ice cream and milk, dancing, and Atlantes - his black panther familiar Pet Peeves: Being told what to do

-              Like every Sanders child before him, Oliver was born to an unbroken and long line of powerful witches that dates further back than history can remember. Somewhere in Europe was their ancestral home but that changed in the mid-1500s. They fled to the New World to escape the Burning Times - the witch trials in Europe that lasted almost 400 years - and moved around before becoming the first settlers in Salem. They remained there for several decades until the one in Salem began, forcing them to leave once again to avoid prosecution for the second time. Eventually, Los Santos became their new home and has remained so ever since.

-              He was almost killed in a massacre of the Anderson Coven when he was younger. The Sanders and Anderson covens had been allies for centuries, and Oliver was chosen to apprentice there as was customary for them. It was during the height of the Black Death that Oliver sought their help to heal his dying father from the plague when they were attacked by a vampire. The coven was slaughtered indiscriminately with Oliver caught in the crossfire as he was mistaken for a member. After it was over, he was the only survivor as far as he knew. To this day, he doesn’t know who the vampire was or why they attacked the coven but didn’t go looking for answers either.

-              Oliver is an only child but he wasn’t raised as one. He comes from a large extended family coven that consists of him, his parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who were his surrogate siblings and they all live under one roof. They are extremely tight-knit and consider their home to be their own little village, which they are greatly protective of. However, they’re still welcoming to anyone if they don’t cause serious problems. His family isn’t rich, even if their very large house says differently, but Oliver was still able to live a comfortable life where anything he needed was always provided for by someone.

-              He contracted meningitis at the age of seven and was nearly killed by it. He was so small that there was no guarantee that he would make it but he still managed to pull through and it cost him his hearing. The illness damaged both of Oliver’s ears, taking with it the many sounds that he’d come to love over the years. It was from then on, that his life was never the same again. It became hours of uphill battles with learning to communicate again and how to accept he was a little extra different from the rest. With all the hard work he put into his rehabilitation, and the help of the Deaf community, Oliver was eventually able to navigate the difficulties of being deaf while living in a hearing world.

-              Most times Oliver is mistaken for being shy and quiet or dumb because he’s deaf, but he’s not like that at all. He’s very extroverted and friendly in actuality and able to befriend just about anyone regardless of their hearing ability. His heart is literally the size of Africa and he has the capability to love and find the best in even the worst of people, wanting only to shower others with all the care and support he thinks they deserve. He’s sensitive and forgiving but will not let someone walk all over him either. Accepting others and keeping an open mind when it comes to things is how he walks through life, treating others the way he would want to be treated because he believes it’s important and understands what it’s like to be treated differently. Although Oliver does have some trust issues due to being in two abusive relationships at a young age, it isn’t hard to get to know him.

-              He opened his occult shop House of the Horned God in 1920 to serve the witch community in Los Santos, providing all of their needs regardless of which path they have chosen. It started out as a humble shop that consisted only of Oliver, and occasionally his cousins, but the business quickly boomed from the rise in disposable income. Soon, it became well-known and a staple in the community due to Oliver’s vast knowledge of magic thanks to his family’s magical library. Over one hundred years later, his business has expanded but Oliver can still be found in that same shop as if time had never passed.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Neighbors

Best friends &friends

Family members

Fellow witches

Enemies

Favorite friend (fluent in ASL)

Flings

Polyamorous lovers

Gimme all the plots ^^

[yelenasdiary]

Hey hey! Here’s a little post about me 💖

Name: Rachel.

Feel free to call me Rach or if you come up with something, I’d love to hear it!

Age: 24.

Pronouns: I go by She/Her.

From: Australia 🇦🇺

Sexual Orientation: I identify as Bisexual, although I have a very high preference for women!

Favourite TV Shows & Movies:

Bones - this is my all time favourite show!

WandaVision - by far my favourite marvel show!

Criminal Minds

Wentworth Prison - way better then OITNB sorry!!

Greys Anatomy

Medium - bit of an oldie but a goldie!

Maleficent

Little Women

Midsommar

Just Like Heaven

Another Period - such an underrated show!

Friends

Taking Lives

Wind River

Australia - don’t judge me, it’s lowkey a good movie.

Sorry for Your Loss

Main Faves:

The first 5, I will literally watch anything they’re in!

Florence Pugh

Angelina Jolie

Elizabeth Olsen

Emily Deschanel

Paget Brewster

Jaden Smith

Ice Cube

Justin Bieber

Scarlett Johansson

Adam Sandler

Kevin Hart

Michael Ealy

Sebastian Stan

XXXTENTACION

Music: I like a lot of old school RNB & old school rap, hip/hop music. I drabble in pop music but I tend to stay away from over popular artists.

Favourite Marvel Movies:

Black Widow

Age of Ultron

Civil War

Captain America & The Winter Soldier

Eternals

Black Panther

Thor: Ragnarok

Doctor Strange in The Multiverse of Madness

Extra facts:

I have 2 dogs & a cat.

I have no tattoos as yet.

I have my first, seconds & helix pierced.

My dream destination is Rio De Janeiro, Brazil.

I love jewellery! Gold or Rose gold are my go to!

My favourite color is a very certain shade of blue.

I collect comics & pop vinyls.

My favourite food is Italian.

If there is anything else you’d like to know, hit my ask box! I’m happy to answer anything 💖

[strawwritesfic]

Bucky Barnes x Female!Super Soldier!Reader: Clarify

Summary: Goodbyes always last longer than they’re supposed to, don’t they?

Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (implied PTSD; not compliant with Black Panther, because I wrote this before Black Panther came out; Steve & Bucky friendship; set at the end of Captain America: Civil War)

Challenge: "160 Collective Drabbles" challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.  

Clarify

Medical facilities. Medical facilities were still medical facilities, no matter where they sat geographically. Same quiet, echoing voice calling physicians from place to place. Same too calm, too bright hallways. Same awful stench of acrid cleaning solution on top of the sweet rotting of sickness. It stuck to your hair, clung to your clothes. You could practically taste it, feel it congealing in the back of your throat. The longer you stood there, the worse it got, whether it was all in your imagination or not.

Even those at the nearby station had taken notice by then of your constant fidgeting. With your eyes fixed on the door before you, you only saw that one approached when she appeared at your shoulder.

“Sorry for startling you,” she said after you’d nearly leaped to the other wall in fright.

You did not answer but half-crouched in silence to size her up. Once you’d visually confirmed she had no needles or any other suspicious instruments on her person, you straightened, though you still did not draw nearer to her.

A few days into your stay in Wakanda had passed, and by then most of the hospital’s staff knew you by sight. You suspected King T’Challa had had a few words with the ones you came into frequent contact with, because they treated you with a level of kindness that bordered on disturbing. This woman was no different. She did not remark on your ridiculous behavior. Instead, she smiled and said:

“Can I get you anything? Water? Maybe you’d like to sit down? You’ve been standing for hours now.”

After a few seconds of prolonged staring, you managed to answer with a very soft, “No.”

The pity in the beautiful woman’s eyes did not change, but she smiled again, and—thank whatever deity they worshiped in Wakanda, if any—headed back to her station.

“All right,” she said over her shoulder. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Your mind wouldn’t change. Still, you nodded once before you returned to your vigil. The nurses and doctors meant well. Being rude to them gained you nothing. How to speak with them without seeming rude, you had no idea. Regular human beings remained a mystery to be worked out to you. Medical staff didn’t usually ask what you wanted. Having learned that no one in Wakanda’s largest research facility would touch you without your permission didn’t make it any easier to look them in the eye.

At least that day was to be your last inside that particular building. You imagined the staff would be glad to see the back of you. Unfortunately, where else you would be after that day had yet to be decided. Until very recently, your life had seen you always with someone. Soon you were to be all alone, with no direction for the first time ever. Was life worth living in that sort of blankness?

Any thoughts you might have had on the matter ground to a halt when the door you’d been so carefully watching slid open. You recoiled, prepared to spring away a second time, but it was only Captain Rogers—Steve, he’d ask you to call him—there to tell you that they were ready for you.

You held your breath as you stepped past him. All your concentration focused on keeping yourself small enough that you would not brush against Captain Rogers in the narrow space. The room beyond him was vast, polished, and brightly lit. Such a massive difference from your own treatment room couldn’t entirely prevent the goosebumps erupting on your skin. The smell of ice and cold metal lay heavy in the air.

“At ease, soldier.”

Your hunched shoulders unwound somewhat at the familiar command. This done, your fear faded enough for you to pay more attention to the people stationed in various places. Finding the source of the voice was easy enough: Bucky sat perched on a comfortable-looking bed in the center of the room.

He looked so different those days, all round edges where the hard angles used to be. His unkempt hair now fell softly to frame his face. For the first time in the years you’d known him, Bucky Barnes looked at peace. Not happy, but the closest thing people like you could get. It was such a strange sight that you almost failed to note the gaping space where his cybernetic arm used to sit.

When your staring got to be too much, Bucky cocked his head to one side and asked, “See something you like?”

You scowled. Along with the new look, Bucky had picked up entirely new behaviors, especially after Captain Rogers had caught up to you both. Bucky was kinder, more open. Most days you thought you liked it, but you continued to be unable to work out how to act in return. Unlike Bucky, you had no memories to hunt out. HYDRA had had you since your conception, an experiment gone wrong forced right. Now he wanted to joke when he knew you weren’t human, that you couldn’t even begin to understand humanity—when he was leaving you without his humanity.

Though your scowl usually got him smiling, Bucky frowned upon seeing it this time. “Come on. Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”

“Like what?” you asked sullenly.

“Like you’re trying to figure out if slipping a dagger between my ribs would be worth it.”

He said as much with a complete lack of concern. Even if Captain Rogers—who remained lurking by the door, trying to pretend he wasn’t present—didn’t trust you not to stab Bucky, Bucky did. Why not? For two years, you had shared his meals, shared his apartment, shared his burgeoning emotions. But never during any of that had he threatened to leave you before.

The strange burning in your eyes had only just started when Bucky smiled and opened his arm. An overwhelming desire to go to him, to crawl into lap as you would have done as a child (only to be dropped and disciplined) overcame you. You allowed yourself a single step in his direction. He was not the only one changed by freedom in a wider world. What that meant for what you and Bucky were for each other wasn’t clear.

“Sergeant Barnes,” said a man in a lab coat that had been standing nearby working at a computer station.

Without taking his eyes off where you stood still as a statue, Bucky waved him away. “Just a few more minutes,” he said.

You realized then that this was it. Your time had run out. Bucky was going under. In some way that you couldn’t fathom, you hadn’t been enough.

“Hey,” said Bucky. “Don’t start that.”

The gentleness in his tone shocked you. You had not even realized you were crying. Now the warm wetness on your cheeks seemed obvious. Compartmentalizing your embarrassment at having shown weakness in front of strangers, you drew closer to the one being in the room who was not one of those strangers. Your tears obscured your vision of Bucky’s face, but could do nothing to prevent your noting the comforting pressure of his hand cupping one of your cheeks. How you did not flinch away when this same hand had struck you so often in your youth, you did not know—only that that had not really been Bucky, in the same way that that had never really been you.

“You’re going to be okay, you know,” he said.

“Without you?” You were relieved your tears had not effected your voice but still wished you could staunch their sudden and apparently infinite flow.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The lie made you frown. You were not fast enough in your anger to turn away, however, and Bucky caught your wrist to pull you back to him. His earnest blue gaze drilled into your own eyes so hard that you found yourself rooted to the spot.

“I mean it, okay? We left HYDRA together. We’re gonna leave Wakanda together, too.”

He was still lying. What else could such a ludicrous promise be? No one knew how long deprogramming Bucky might take. No one knew how long your body might keep going. But he went on, unable to see his own falsehood, or unwilling to.

“When I get out,” he said, “I’ll be better for you. You won’t have to worry anymore. I’ll be me. No more relapses. We’ll have a real shot at making this work…if you agree to wait for me.”

The room rang with anticipation, almost as though even the scientists were eager for your answer. Hot faced, you tried to regain ownership of your arm, but Bucky wouldn’t budge. He meant what he said. His words were insane, but he meant them. What was more, he wanted you there with him.

“I don’t know what I am without you,” you replied thickly.

“That’s okay. You’ve got some time to figure it out.”

“When you’re free—after I’ve been alone for so long—”

“You won’t be alone. I talked to Steve. He’s going to look after you for me. Get you all socialized. Make sure you get to see the people in this world. I’ve been neglecting that part of your training.”

“I don’t want to see the people in the world with Captain Rogers.”

Your petulance only made Bucky smile. Deep inside your abdomen, your intestines writhed. This was wrong. You were asking—begging—to be punished, but you’d never wanted anything more in your entire life than him…even if “want” was something of a new concept to you.

He sensed your weakness. No sooner had you shut your eyes to rid yourself of the sudden weight crushing you than did Bucky swoop in to kiss the very tip of your nose. Some long-buried human instinct had you shifting until your mouths met. Only an uncomfortable sound from the direction Captain Rogers stood broke you apart.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, unable to quash the surge of feelings inside you from reaching your mouth now that Bucky had so expertly unlocked them.

“I don’t really want to go either.” Bucky moved his hand to get a better grip on yours. “But it’s for the best.”

“It’s not fair.”

His lips trembled like he wanted to laugh, but all he said was, “Life isn’t fair for people like us. Promise me you’ll stay with Steve? It’s not just you I’m worried about. He needs looking after and socialization, too.”

You threw a look at the man in question. Captain Rogers shot you a sheepish smile that you did not return. After all your captors had told you about Captain America, the thought of following him around like a lost puppy curled your insides. On the other hand, there had been no reason for him to protect you from the UN death squads. He’d come to Romania for Bucky. He’d turned fugitive for Bucky. And yet, he had done the same for you. Captain Rogers couldn’t be too bad, if he showed so much kindness to your caretaker and yourself.

“Fine,” you finally muttered.

Bucky kissed you again—a short, swift kiss that left your lips feeling vaguely burned.

“I’m ready,” he told one of the workers before you could renege or add conditions to the deal.

Your sound of protest was short-lived. How could you say anything while Bucky looked at you with such a light in his eyes?

“Be a good girl now,” he said.

He knew you didn’t want to watch. As soon as he let go of your hand, you were out of the room like a shot. Alone. Knowing the one person who had ever cared about you—ever known you—was voluntarily leaving threatened to send you into yet another panic attack. The room spun. Bucky was already gone. Frozen again while you grew and changed. You gasped for air. Maybe you’d die there. Wakanda was as good a place as any, or maybe better than most. If only you could—

“Are you all right?”

Your spiral interrupted, you found yourself once again in the hospital hallway, once again with the beautiful nurse from before. Her wide, soft eyes regarded you with…pity? Mercy? Was there a difference?

“He’ll be okay,” she told you in a confident whisper. “King T’Challa has the best scientist in the kingdom on the case. She won’t rest until your boy is safe. He’ll be okay.”

You opened your mouth to argue—Bucky wasn’t yours, how could he ever be okay after all of that, how could you ever be okay after all that—but she brushed a soft hand against your shoulder and you remembered that what he wanted while he was gone for you to make human connections. All it took was that small one to cause you to crumble right along with your will to fight.

“Can I come sit with you?” you mumbled, staring at your feet. “Until Captain Rogers comes out? I promise I won’t get in your way.”

“Of course you can.”

She led you quietly away from that room—the room that had taken Bucky from you, but only after your first kiss. The rest of the staff at her station smiled at you and didn’t seem at all annoyed that this was an expression you could not return even if you wanted to. They offered you a chair into which you gratefully sank. Breathing came easier as time passed, and you thought maybe, just maybe, if the people around you were so nice, life might end up worth living.

[pumpacti0n]

I’m a pacifist, but being dogmatic about non-violence is a very bourgeois take and its proof that the training by our corporate masters to be passive and fearful is complete.

morally speaking I’d argue self defense is exempt from being at odds with pacifist ideals given that you cant be peaceful if you’re fucking dead. there will be no peace as long as the wealthy white warlords (and #girlboss warlords/warlords of color) and their schemes go unchallenged.

every conscious living creature that’s aware of a threat will attempt to defend themselves and avoid harm if possible, so why should we expect otherwise for ourselves and fellow humans? liberals love to fret about antifa and rioters and anarchists and whatnot but the alternative to direct action is laying down and dying. and no one has earned that sacrifice from us.

it’s too big of a price to pay to let fascists live in “peace” while they’re destroying everything in their path. I think we must get past this purely fictitious delusion that we can love our enemies to death and by inflicting violence on them we degrade ourselves. this isn’t the same as a scorched earth policy and wanton execution of everyone deemed “counterrevolutionary” or whatever in an endless quest for vengeance.

appeals to non-violent dogmatism has been weaponized to stifle socially progressive movements and justify even more violence directed at the people who challenge authorities. to me, “revolutions are always violent” doesn’t mean that we seek out conflict (because that’s not strategic and guerilla warfare is the only legitimate method of defeating the forces in question,) but only recognizes that the current state of the world is already violent to begin with, and the owner class will reflexively increase the violence whenever the process of exploitation is threatened (or believed to be threatened).

The reason why the state doesn’t (often) deploy legions of stormtroopers and tanks to attack legal protests and voters is because they don’t constitute a major threat to the hegemony and the power structure. if you’re marching with cops and resist only in the approved methods by following the law to the letter, you can bet that you aren’t effectively challenging their supremacy in any meaningful way... it’s purely spectacle!

non-violence presumes that there is a possibility to create peace, but if the conditions aren’t there, then it’s simply waiting to die. you can’t have a nice dinner party in the middle of an active war zone unless you’re fully insulated from the terror that war brings. and this is class war. that’s why you’ll only find this kind of rhetoric coming from people more invested in preserving the already violent status quo and Not people who live the violent conditions daily.

You’d have no love lost for the destruction of an oppressive system unless you benefit from that system or find it more preferable to surrender fully than to resist. there’s no way that a violent system will allow for a peaceful resolution especially as the violence it inflicts is uninterrupted, and the perpetrators or their defenders show no interest in relenting for even a moment.

The Black Panthers wrote “on self defense” back in 1969 and they made many keen observations about the hypocrisy of so-called “peacekeepers” and their assertion that fascists have more of a right to safety than we do. It’s so wild how the talking points haven’t changed much, still lacking substance, still appealing to broken ethical standards and relying on the same bunk ass eye-for-an-eye fallacy that’s been thoroughly dissected and read for filth almost a century ago

keep this all in mind next time you see people conflating the next series of riots with terrorism and perpetuating this myth of anarchists causing trouble because they just want to drink the blood of innocents and burn down your grandmothers house while the victims of drone strikes and ICE and economic genocide are swept under the rug.

when they ask: “but must they be so violent?” you might answer: “because “kaboom!” is understood universally, but “stop killing us” apparently isn’t.”

[classysassy9791]

When a job goes terribly wrong, the Fairy Tail guild is left to pick up the pieces. Mourning the deaths of their guildmates, Lucy can't seem to find the strength to move forward. But she comes to realize one person understands. His madness was her mercy, and she finally began to hope that maybe he could make her heart beat again.

Fandom: Fairy Tail Genre: Adventure/Tragedy Warning: Character Death(s) Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l

Chapter 3 Word Count: 3,100 Can also be found here

I give up on editing this anymore so here it is

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.

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The first thing Juvia noticed upon entering the guildhall that morning was that Gray was nowhere to be found. More often than not, he arrived earlier than she, prompting a touch of concern as to where the ice-make mage could be. He had taken a job the day before, so there was a chance he could be sleeping in after arriving home late.

The second thing she noticed was the hum of electricity among her fellow guildmates. They gathered at the tables closest to the stage, everyone murmuring amidst themselves. Knitting her brows with worry, the bluenette weaved her way over to where Wendy sat.

“Good morning, Wendy,” she greeted the young girl with a small smile. “Why is everyone so lively?”

With a drained look she offered, “Hello, Juvia,” before dropping her gaze to the floor. “I-I guess you haven’t heard yet.”

Blue eyes glanced between her and Charle, who perched beside her with a hollow expression. “Hear what?”

“Well, Team Natsu went on a mission yesterday and-”

Her heart missed a beat, terrifying worst-case scenarios coming to her mind with Gray’s absence. “Where’s Gray?” Juvia demanded anxiously. “Has he returned?”

Wendy quickly nodded, setting her panic at ease. “Yeah, he came home. He’s in the infirmary right now. I’m not sure what happened, but he and Lucy were hurt pretty bad.”

Her eyes shifted distractedly over to the hallway leading to their clinic. “Maybe Juvia should go check on him.”

“Absolutely not,” a woman interrupted before she could scamper off to his side. Porlyusica suddenly appeared with her ever present scowl. “He needs to rest. Leave him be.”

“O-Oh… Ah… right,” Juvia stammered, feeling a blush come to her cheeks. She still felt anxious, but knew better than to question the elder woman’s words. “Will he be all right?”

“He’ll be fine. He’s a stubborn fool.”

The water mage breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“Hey, you guys!” Levy called as she bounced over, Team Shadowgear hot on her heels.

“Oh, good morning,” Wendy greeted.

“What happened last night?” the solid-script mage asked, concerned lines creasing her brow as she took note of their medicinal advisor. “Jet told me he had to fetch Porlyusica.”

“Gray and Lucy were badly injured,” Juvia explained. “What happened is still unclear.”

“Cana didn’t offer an explanation either when she came to get me,” Jet said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never seen her so sober.”

Levy fiddled with the hem of her dress nervously, giving Wendy a questioning glance. “Is Lu okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” she affirmed with a small nod. “They both just need some rest for now.”

“What’s everyone buzzin’ about?” Gajeel questioned as he sauntered over, keeping his eyes peeled on the rest of the guildhall. “Ain’t like them this early in the morning.”

Panther Lily hopped onto the table next to Charle. “We’re usually never here this early,” he pointed out.

“Master wants to make an announcement.” Cana strolled over, her customary barrel of alcohol propped against her hip and a soft warmth blooming upon her cheeks. “It’s not good.”

“Why do you say that?” Levy asked.

“I saw Lucy and Gray come in last night. It was pretty bad.”

“You don’t think something terrible happened, do you?” Wendy fiddled with her hands anxiously.

Gajeel folded his arms over his chest. “Didn’t they go on a mission with Salamander?”

“Yeah, along with Erza and Happy.” Levy’s hazel eyes quickly scanned their gathered guildmates. “But I haven’t seen either of them all morning.”

“The Thunder Legion was sent out, too,” Cana mumbled. “This doesn’t sit well with me.”

The guildhall suddenly hushed as Makarov entered the room, climbing up onto the stage in order to be better seen and heard. Mirajane stood beside him, but her usual cheerful smile had been replaced by a deep frown. Her eyes were rimmed red and her cheeks were flushed, making it apparent to everyone that she had been crying. Levy exchanged an anxious glance with those beside her.

Their master cleared his throat, his eyes noticeably misty. “My heart is heavy today,” he began, his voice thick with tears. “I come to you not as your guild master, but as a member of the family we hold dear. Unfortunately, in this world, not everything can be fixed, no matter how much we wish it could.”

Dread had Levy’s stomach locked up tight and her teeth clenched together.

The room fell eerily silent. “Yesterday, our strongest team went on a mission to capture bandits in Freesia. But demons from the books of Zeref blindsided them.”

Levy swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. It became hard to breathe. Where was Erza, Natsu, and Happy? Why weren’t they there?

“It is with a broken heart that I tell you some of our family did not make it home alive.”

“N-No,” Levy whispered, her hands muffling the gasp that escaped as tears welled in her eyes. Loud murmurs of disbelief rang out across the guild, fear building in a frenzy as everyone turned wide eyes to their master.

He paused for a moment to reel in his emotions as Mirajane quietly broke down sobbing beside him. “Natsu, Erza, and Happy all died in battle. They were our beloved family and fought bravely to instill the protection of those we hold dear.”

The news passed through the guild like a hurricane. Levy’s mind was laid waste by it, the desolation she felt all consuming. She suddenly felt weak in the knees, falling backwards onto a bench. Cana dropped her alcohol, causing the contents to spill onto the floor. The room filled with hysterical crying, the screaming sobs molding together to form one.

“T-Tom Cat…?” she heard Charle whisper from beside her, a choked sob escaping Wendy’s lips.

Gajeel clenched his hands into fists, wide eyes staring as he tried to comprehend the master’s words. “S-Salamander? No way…”

Levy cried as if her brain was being shredded from the inside. From her mouth came a cry so raw that Gajeel bent down to pull her to his chest, running shaky fingers through her hair. She curled her hands around his shirt so she could find some gravity with her violent shaking. The whole world vanished for her. Now there was only pain enough to break her - to break them - pain enough to change them all beyond recognition.

“My children!” Makarov cried out above the noises of desolation.

The screams quieted to soft, choked sobs, as they all turned blurry vision toward him. Each of their expressions begged him to have the answers as to how this had happened… as to how they were supposed to endure such a loss.

He looked over each and every one of them, his own tears falling down his cheeks. “Y-You’re going to think that the pain will never end, but it will. That I can promise. But first, you have to let it all in. You can’t fight it; it’s bigger than you. You have to let yourself drown in it, but then, eventually, you’ll start to swim. And every single breath that you fight for will make you stronger. And I promise you, you’ll beat this! We all will!”

“How the hell did this happen?!” Macao called out angrily. “How?!”

Makarov shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have all the details. Thank Mavis that Gray and Lucy were both brought back home alive. They’re in the infirmary recovering thanks to Wendy and Porlyusica.”

Levy squeezed her eyes shut, listening as Gajeel mumbled incoherent phrases, as Juvia cried for a queen, and Wendy sobbed for a fellow dragon slayer. She took in everything, feeling as if a weight pressed on her chest, and she was drowning in her own tears.

Their master wiped his hand under his nose like a child. “I have postponed any job requests for the time being. With the jewels we received from the Games, I will cover all expenses until further notice. Do not break alone, my children. We are a family, and we will get through this together - as a family.”

Within the mess of emotions surrounding her, Levy repeated Makarov’s news over and over again in her mind.

Natsu… Erza… Happy… dead…

Lucy… Gray… alive…

And then her eyes opened wide.

Lucy…!

...

Lucy felt emotionally bankrupt. There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped her mind in swirling blackness. She peeked out from beneath her covers and looked at Gray with eyes filled with anguish. He was sitting up, his gaze trained on the window, as he had been for the past two hours.

Reluctantly, once he had woken up and questioned what had happened, she had given him the news of their friends’ deaths. He had yelled out in denial, refusing to believe her, but as she replayed their final moments out on the battlefield as Virgo and Loke appeared, reality started to set in.

Since then, he had clammed up. He had sobbed - she had never seen him so vulnerable - and then he went silent. He now stared vacantly out at the sunrise, as if searching for something.

About an hour ago, she had heard all the commotion coming from the main hall and knew the rest of the guild had been told the news. The door creaked open, catching Lucy’s attention. She glanced over her covers to see a petite young woman with blue hair peek her head in.

“Lu…?” she whispered hesitantly.

The blonde debated if she wanted to see her friend, or if she would rather pretend to be asleep so she could be left alone. Thinking better of it, she pulled the blanket off of her face. “Hey, Levy,” she replied softly.

Levy stepped over, her hands clenched in front of her as if to keep them from trembling. Her cheeks were red and blotchy from crying. “Oh, Lucy…”

Her words were so tender and full of sympathy, that Lucy felt tears welling in her eyes all over again. “He-He’s gone,” she said, her voice cracking. “They’re all gone.”

Lucy’s body began to shake with her sobs, the sound breaking free from her throat, savage and raw. Levy pushed away the covers and slid into the bed next to her. She wrapped her arms around her friend, running her fingers through her golden-spun hair, and whispered soothing words to help calm her shattered heart.

Sometime during it all, Juvia came to Gray’s bedside, reaching out a trembling hand around his own. “Gray…?” she whispered.

His only response was to pull away, ignoring her presence completely. The desolation he felt consumed him, his mind became an icy wasteland; the wind howled in his soul and wrapped icy tentacles around his heart so tightly, it almost stopped beating.

And faintly, he realized, it had begun to rain.

...

Sitting alone at the Fairy Tail guildhall, Cana took a swig from her glass and waited for the effects to kick in. She waited. And waited. But the numb feeling inside her didn’t wane.

The quiet of the guildhall made her blood run as cold as Fiore’s winters. It was as if nature conspired against her in the dark, not daring to whisper the reassurance she craved. Echoes of boisterous voices spun through her mind, of a lively guild filled with fistfights and magic.

Now, there was only silence.

It gnawed at her insides, hanging in the air like the suspended moment before falling glass shattered on the ground. Like a gaping void. It needed to be filled with sounds, words, anything.

The main door creaked open and she heard soft footsteps echo in the empty guildhall. Mirajane walked over to Cana, giving her a weak smile, barely noticeable in the dim lighting. “I thought I’d find you here.” Her blue eyes, which were usually so bright and kind, had dulled to an opaque grey. They were puffy, but her tears had finally dried up.

The card mage tilted her head in acknowledgement, taking another long gulp. “Where else is there to be?”

Humming her agreement, the eldest Strauss sibling slipped behind the bar for a glass to fill from the tap, and joined Cana in a drink. Once the news of what had happened had sunk in, everyone had dispersed to find their own way of grieving.

“I used to complain about how loud the guild was. All the fighting and the music and the people non-stop talking,” Cana said, her voice brittle as if she were about to cry. “Now, it’s too quiet. I’d give my right arm to hear Natsu start a fight or for Erza to end it, or for Happy to make another of his snarky comments.”

Blue eyes peered wistfully over the darkened guildhall, memories of their childhood revolving through her mind. Over a decade had passed since the first of them had stumbled into Fairy Tail. Even after all they had been through at such a young age, they had still been so innocent as to what lay ahead. “It’s a frightening thought, that in one fraction of a moment, everything you hold dear can be altered forever.”

Cana gripped her glass tighter. “It all just feels like a bad joke.”

“I don’t think the universe is kidding this time.” She didn’t need to voice aloud the circumstances regarding Lisanna’s death. Her body had disappeared in a glitter of golden light. This time, there was no mistake that Natsu, Erza, and Happy were gone. Mirajane took a sip of her drink thoughtfully, swirling the alcohol around in her mouth, relishing in the burn before swallowing.

Cana raised a brow suspiciously. “Since when do you drink?”

“Since I woke up yesterday and never imagined the day would end this badly.” The barmaid shrugged, silver hair a mess and her eyes sad. “I always thought there were bad days, but not in the way most people think, you know? I think… I think really bad days happen when everything seems to be going wrong, and you just want to throw your hands up in the air and give up. Because clearly, the world is out to get you.”

Tears welling in her eyes, Cana held up her glass. “To really, really bad days, then.”

They drank quietly as the shadows grew darker and it wasn’t until after nightfall that they realized something.

As it turned out, a person couldn’t drink away the silence.

...

Every breath was an implosion.

Lucy sat on the edge of the bed with no strength to move. Her shaky fingers finally came to a stop after running restlessly through her messy hair. She bit down on her lip trying not to burst into tears. It wasn’t going to help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Night had fallen, causing everyone to leave the guild. Juvia had fallen asleep in a chair, her head resting on Gray’s bed, but Lucy had persuaded Levy to go home. Brown eyes lifted to look at her teammate, lip quivering.

“Gray…?” Her voice came out in a choked whisper.

“Don’t.” The word was deliberate, and sharper than knives. He didn’t even bother to face her, instead lying on his side with his back toward her.

Lucy glanced away, feeling as if she had been slapped. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, the events of the day leaving her feeling hollow. “You don’t get to do this,” she muttered, clenching her hands into fists.

“Don’t,” he repeated. “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear you say what I think you’re gonna say.”

Gray had woken up hours ago with the bitter taste of ash in his mouth and the grit of building caked into his skin. Somehow, before Lucy had replayed the events of the battle for him, he had known it was over. A part of him really knew. People always say they thought they would know if someone close to them had died. Maybe it was true. Because something inside him had broken on that day, and he knew it was over.

Grief felt like emptiness in his heart, a sheer of nothingness that somehow took over and held his soul, threatening to kill him entirely. It gave him this heavy feeling that was like the weight of the world sat on his chest.

He knew grief very well.

He felt it when Ur looked back at him, her body becoming the infamous iced-shell, as she gave her life for his. “I want Lyon to discover the world; Gray, you too, of course. You don’t have to be sad,” she had told him with a smile. “I’m alive. I’m eternally alive as ice. Step into the future. I’ll seal your darkness.”

He felt it when Ultear had given years of her life to give him one more minute of his, changing his fate entirely - her elderly face, tilted with lips pulled up, a shake of her head, wordlessly telling him it was okay.

And he felt it when Erza turned her back to him, scarlet hair shimmering in the fire’s glow; her armor cracked, her swords drawn. “I made a promise! I told Ultear I would look after you,” she had shouted back to him, facing the demon head-on as he lay bleeding. “And I never break a promise!” Even though by then she was already dying, she fought on. She was drenched to the core in blood and yet she fought on. She fought on until she collapsed and could fight no more. And then with the crack of bones, she was gone.

Why?!

Why did every woman he had ever learned to care for decide that his life was worth more than theirs? Why was he always the one left behind to mourn, to feel the guilt of their deaths?

It wasn’t fair, dammit!

“Please… Gray…”

Lucy’s voice drew him from his thoughts and he glanced down to see he had wrapped the sheets tight in his fist, turning his knuckles white. He closed his eyes, but she somehow knew he was listening.

“We-We have their blood on our hands… Tell me it’s going to be okay. Promise me it’s going to be alright,” she cried meekly. “Tell me we have a reason to be here when they aren’t.”

He was silent for a moment, turning his hardened gaze to the dark sky outside. “I can’t.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable to come up with any response.

[curvynerdfan]

Wolf of Kattegat

Thank you @boomhauer for requesting. This is the longest piece I’ve ever written totalling over 3.5k words. It has definitely put me in an Ubbe mood! I hope you enjoy it!

Ubbe x tattoo artist reader

Ubbe was giddy when he woke up Thursday morning. Hvitserk had managed to get Ubbe scheduled with his tattoo artist. His brother’s tattoo artist was renown in Kattegat and all of the surrounding cities.Their art was immaculate and it was surprisingly difficult for Ubbe to get an appointment without Hvitserk’s help. He could have always asked Ivar but that kind of frustration didn’t appeal to him.

It still shocked him that it was so difficult for him, a Ragnarsson, to get on the artist’s schedule. He knew she was phenomenal, that is why he was willing to wait. But who in their right mind would deny Ragnar Lothbrok’s son.They must be insane, it was very rare for someone to be unaware of his family’s line of work. The Lothbrok legacy was known across the country and no one dared cross them, those who did rarely lived to regret it. The High Seat Incorporation was involved in a plethora of business endeavors. It’s name paid homage to Odin and everyone’s deep seated belief that the Lothbrok family descended directly from the All Father.

While he could have gone to his typical tattoo shop, this tattoo was special to him. His father was referred to as the “Wolf of Kattegat” and he now felt confident in stepping down as leader and letting Ubbe take over. Bjorn took over foriegn affairs after his uncle Rollo’s betrayal. Many people thought that Bjorn would be the next leader of the Lothbroks, he was passionate about travel and felt like he was following in his father’s footsteps but still being his own man. Hvitserk’s role was much more on the criminal side of the business. He enjoyed participating in the night life and was typically running their club or meeting with unnamed business partners. . Ivar majored in architectural and mechanical engineering but always wanted to be involved in raids. He was also called in to retrieve information, when typical methods of torture just weren’t cutting it. .Lastly Sigurd was in charge of the creative qualities behind their business. Of course the family was involved in criminal activity but a majority of the business was legitimate. Sigurd helped with marketing, contracts and business relations. The new tattoo was going to signify Ubbe’s new status, while honoring his father at the same time. ========================================================================

“We aren’t open for walk-ins until 12pm darling,” she said without lifting her head, “ You’re three hours too early.”

“No, I believe I am right on time.” a gruff voice responded.

Y/N snapped her head up and almost gave herself whiplash. She had never seen a man this stunning and powerful in her life. She felt her jaw drop and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt and dark wash jeans. There were several pieces of jewelry adorning his body. A chain with several charms that looked like runes, a golden band resting on his wrist, and a skull ring were the most notable.

“I have an appointment with Y/N. I hope she is in. I even brought a peach green tea, like mother said.”, he gestured, lifting the large iced drink in his right hand while keeping his coffee in his left.

Ubbe was beginning to worry. While the girl behind the counter seemed nice and was no doubt talented based on the sketches he was staring at, she didn’t necessarily give off the vibe of the talented and high end tattoo artist responsible for the work he has seen on his family members. She was wearing an oversized cardigan and a pair of ripped jeans. Sure there were tattoos peaking out but the glasses resting on top of her french braided hair did not give off badass tattoo artist vibes. A smirk creeped across his face when he realized she was gawking at him and cleared his throat to get her attention again.

“ Ohh, um, yeah I can take you back and get you set up”, Y/N said with a small smile.

Ubbe followed the lovely lady through the back of the parlor and design studio, up a flight of stairs and was happy to see how professional Y/N’s workplace was. Not that the downstairs parlor was trashy, it was just obvious for the public. This area seemed intimate and very classy. A shapeable leather tattoo chair was in the center of the room. It appeared that the artist can manipulate the chair so the arm rests and leg rests could be extended or bent for the customer’s comfort.

“You can have a seat,” Y/N gestured to the chair “I’ll go make sure everything is ready.”

The girl walked out of the room and Ubbe couldn’t help but hope that she was going to get his artist. While alone, he took in the rest of his surroundings. The walls were pitch black but there were large windows with sheer curtains to keep the room light and airy. A massive mirror sat between the two windows so clients could check their work. There were also framed pieces of artwork scattered across the room. The tattoo cart sat to the side of the chair and could move as the artist pleased.

Ubbe realized he had been observing the space for a while and quickly sat down when he heard the door began to open. He tried to look relaxed and nonchalant so he stared at one of the art pieces, a muscular panther resting in a tree. It was a beautiful piece that seemed to possess raw power even though the beast was snoozing.

Y/N had quickly ran into her apartment once she got Ubbe settled in her studio. She made sure there was nothing in her teeth, added a quick swipe of lipgloss and sprayed some more perfume. The man in her studio was gorgeous. Everyone she questioned before accepting Ubbe as a client failed to mention that particular trait. He oozed power and an air of dominance. She could tell he was in charge of any situation but was confident instead of cocky. That trait obviously ran in the family.

“So, when will Y/N be here?”, Ubbe finally asked, he was really starting to doubt whether he’d be getting a tattoo today.

Y/N did a double take, “What? What do you mean, when will I be here?”

Ubbe looked shocked and he was astonished. Then she realized that neither of them introduced themselves..

“Oh wow! Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N and I’ll be your artist today!” she said with a sheepish smile,”I am sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’ll take that tea from you now.” she reached her hand out.

“My apologies, I assumed you knew what I looked like.”, Ubbe apologized.

He quickly handed over her drink, their fingers brushing when he passed the drink off. When Y/N reached to grab the drink, the oversized aztec-patterned cardigan fell off of her shoulder revealing detailed snake tattoos trailing across her left collarbone and shoulder.. It also revealed what may be a bralette or some kind of black laced tank top. Ubbe let out a huff when he took in her appearance for a second time. His eyes darkened when he realized how beautiful she really was. The fluffy and plain cardigan with what he believed were called ‘mom jeans’ gave her a demure and almost frumpy look. The outfit was definitely more for comfort than aesthetic. He couldn’t help but admire her body and the artwork that enhanced it. He also noticed chunky snake earrings dangling from her ears and a chain necklace caressing her throat.

“Alright, here is the finished tattoo outline. Please be honest and let me know if there is anything else we need to alter before we start. It won’t hurt my feelings. Every tattoo has a special meaning and I want you to be able to look at it with pride.” Y/N rambled before gently placing the sketch in his lap before setting up her rolling cart.

A small smirk rose on Ubbe’s face. While Y/N was obviously flustered, he could tell that she was passionate about her trade and dedicated to giving her clients the best experience possible. She wandered over to a black minifridge and patted the top of it where a keurig rested.

“While you look your tattoo over I can run through some basics I find important. Your brothers said you already have plenty of tattoos so I hope you know how to care for them properly. Either way, I have a set of printed instructions for you and I usually have customers come in a week after getting inked so I can lay eyes on it and make sure no touch ups are needed. I will also provide you with a healing salve and cleaning solution.” Y/N waved her hand over the fridge, “You’re getting a decent-sized tattoo with a significant amount of shading so we need to make sure to take breaks. I have a wide variety of snacks and drinks available. Feel free to stop me at any time for any reason. Today is all about making sure you have the best experience possible and the tattoo is something you love. That being said, do you have any questions or are there any alterations I need to make before we get started?”

Y/N finished her spiel and shrugged off the cardigan on her shoulders. Ubbe began to answer her, but lost his words when her body lost the cardigan. He was slowly beginning to realize that Y/N may be his dream girl. Her jeans were higher on her hips and he stopped breathing for a second when he came to the conclusion that she really was just wearing a bralette for a top. He could see a rose peaking out on her right hip and tried to stop himself from imagining how far down that design trailed.

A dainty giggle brought Ubbe back to the conversation again, “Umm”, he shook his head to clear it, “No there is nothing I’d like to change and I will let you know if I have any other questions. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“Okie dokie then! Let’s get started!” Y/N said clapping her hands together. “Uh, I think you’re going to have to take your shirt off.” she stated, her voice slowly softened to a whisper.

Ubbe chuckled to himself and began taking his shirt off and Y/N gently told him to leave it on halfway. He wanted the tattoo on his right forearm so only his right side had to be uncovered. Her client’s comfort was always her first priority and even though she would love to see that hunk of a man completely naked, she knew it was better to be professional.

She began to lay the outline down where they had decided to place it and tried her best to keep her gaze from wandering to his delicious abs and bulging arm veins. Y/N softly grabbed Ubbe’s hand and dragged him in front of the mirror. Trying to guide the muscular man was a little more difficult than she had expected. She tripped herself up while leading him and felt his other hand wrap around her waist, in hopes of steadying her.

Ubbe notice Y/N get her boot hung up on a floor board and quickly grabbed her waist with the hand she hadn’t already claimed. He pulled her to him with his right hand and steadied her with his left. He let out a sigh of relief once they were both steady. Y/N gasped, and her free hand went to rest on his chest. Ubbe looked her over to make sure she was okay. His eyes trailed up her body, eyes pausing on the curve of her waist and again on her breasts before quickly trailing back up to her face. Y/N’s eyes were zeroes in on Ubbe’s face. Her eyes were trained on his lips. Ubbe let out a hum that Y/N could feel in the palm of her hand and snapped her eyes up to his.

“I, uh,” she shook her head, “yeah, um, look over the outline in the mirror and from other angles. Every once in a while a client can find an angle that ruins the aesthetic, so make sure you love where it is at.” she said, gently pushing away from him and walking over to grab her drink off of the cart.

The refreshing drink helped her clear mind and her throat. Ooo, that man made her heart race faster than anyone before. After a couple of long pulls from her drink she looked up and smiled when she noticed he really was analyzing the design from every angle.

“This tattoo means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”, her voice soft but curious.

He nodded his head and made his way to the chair, “ It really looks phenomenal the way it is Y/N, thank you.”

She blushed and let out a soft “thanks.”

He settled into the chair and she dragged her rolling seat and cart across the room. She pulled gloves onto her hands and got ready to start. She turned his arm to get the best angle and Ubbe began to speak again.

“You have no clue who my family is, do you?” Ubbe continued when she shook her head. “”We run The High Seat, it is one of the largest incorporations in the country and most definitely the most expansive in companies and investments. Have you ever heard of the Wolf of Kattegat?” he asked. When her eyes squinted in recognition, he continued, “He is my father, Ragnar.”

She stopped him to ask “Aslaug’s husband?”

He chuckled, he could only imagine what his mother spewed about his father,”Yes, that Ragnar. Anyways, he has decided to step back from the business and work more legitimate in a position of advisor. I am taking over as the Wolf of Kattegat. We are also the commanding family of Ansuz”, he chuckled darkly when she flinched, “now, doll, you have nothing to fear from me or my family. Let alone any of my heathens. My mother adores you. So do Hvitty and Ivar. Hate to say it but I think I am under your spell as well.”

“I-I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she said, paying careful attention to his arm,”and my reaction wasn’t all from fear, a majority of it was because it is hard to believe that I am that naive. The leader of the most dangerous crime organization is sitting in my chair.” she let out another giggle, this one reminded Ubbe of Floki, “hell, I even interrogated your family before deciding to take you as a client. Why didn’t you just make me?”

“Mother taught me better than to demand a woman to do anything and I admire your dedication”, he noticed your confused look, “You only tattoo those you believe you can trust. In turn, your clients, my family trusts you. It is like a badge of honor to say my wolf was designed and ingrained in my skin. I refuse to taint that by behaving like a pompous ass.”

She smiled at his description of her work. Y/N knew her practice of vetting clients was peculiar. Most artists were more focused on the money they can make off a client. She wanted to know the person she was leaving a piece of herself with. Y/N had spent over a hundred hours perfecting the piece she was now inking into his skin.

The next couple of hours were spent talking about his family, the stress of his new position, and so much more. Ubbe made sure to ask questions about her family, interests and upcoming projects. At the end of the session, Y/N felt like she had known him for years. The Wolf of Kattegat seemed very down to earth for such a renown crime boss and CEO.

When the tattoo was finished, she cleaned it and instructed Ubbe to look at it in the mirror. His eyes scanned the mirror several times enjoying the way the tattoo made him look and feel. He twisted his wrist several times, analyzing the way the light was hitting the wolf. Y/N was bouncing on her toes. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or nervous. Ubbe’s face suddenly lit up and he grinned from ear to ear and Y/N couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of excitement.

She sat Ubbe back down and began reviewing how to care for the tattoo one more time while carefully wrapping his arm so the shirt wouldn’t irritate it. While she was elated that the god-like man before her loved her art, she knew he was about to leave. She felt like she truly knew Ubbe and the rest of the Lothbrok family. It hurt to think that it may have only been for the day.Once his arm was properly bandaged, she no longer had a reason to keep him with her. Y/N gently let him know it was finished. He immediately pulled out a stack of cash.

“Ubbe! This is too much! We already discussed price before you got here.”, Y/N said, exasperated.

“Yes , we did. That was before you brought this beautiful piece to life on my skin. That was also before I realized how important you would be to me.” He paused and let out a chuckle,” I will not ask you out today, lest you believe that is why I am paying you this amount. I am giving you this because you managed to make this tattoo more remarkable than I could ever imagine.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed when Ubbe implied his desire to date her. It was good to know that it was not a foolish desire held on her own. She loved his praise and was happy that he loved your most recent passion project. She also couldn’t help but feel empowered by his words.

“Thank you, Ubbe. I will see you in a week to see how it is healing.” she stated clearly trying to sound professional before leading him down the stairs and to the front of the shop.

Ubbe smiled to himself. He would not ask her out today, but he did make sure to slip his number into tha cash during one of their breaks. He only hoped she would notice it soon. The pair had carefully made it to the front windows of her shop. Both appeared to be thinking of a way to delay their goodbyes. Instead of procrastinating his eventual departure, Ubbe decided to embrace it and use it as an opportunity to embrace her as well.

Y/N froze when two burly arms wrapped around her waist. She slowly reached her arms up around him and rested her cheek on his chest. Ubbe took a deep breath of her vanilla scent and lightly pressed his lips against the crown of her head.

“Goodbye, princess”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

6:57 PM

So should I save your number in my phone under Ubbe or Wolf of Kattegat🐺?

@justahopelessssromantic @princessofthalia

[deputy-videogamer]

Demon in Disguised | Part 1 |

Paring: Geralt x Reader

Warning: Minor Blood

Notes: Don't worry there will be a part two and it will have smut in it. But for now enjoy the small cliffhanger.

Part 2

Ahh humans~

So frail, so paranoid, so deliriously fearful. Especially if the humans are just vulnerable to things they can't explain, take your for example. You have an appearance of a human, but in reality you are nothing more than a demon. More specifically one of the Seven Demons of Hell, your brothers and sisters just love taking pleasure of bringing their sins into the lives of humans.

A man having an affair with his wife? You can blame Asmodeus for that. A person who kills another person out of jealousy? Blame Beelzebub for that. A bloodly fight that was out of anger or revenge? Blame yourself for that. You once enjoy these misfortunes that you laid upon the humans, but now it has been.....well boring for you.

You wanted something more than just making people suffer. You wanted to have an adventure, the thrill, the excitement of your adrenaline pumping in your veins. Sitting on your throne watching people suffer is not what you no longer call fun but instead an endless suffering. No pun intended. That's when it had hit you, why stay here watching people suffer, when you can have fun up there up there. The place where plenty of people live instead of just waiting for the next victim to die and judge what have sins they have done to bring down here.

Which brings you here. Drinking at a pub in a village where the men slammed their drinks on the tables as waitresses went by table to table. For the past couple of years you have made quite the living of being a traveler who tells a person's 'future' for a couple of coins to buy some items. Not like it matter to you materialistic things never interested you in the first place.

All of sudden the pub had gotten quite, you broke your gaze from the book you were reading from to see what had stop the ruckus. At the doorway of the pub was a man with long white hair that was tied into a ponytail with intriguing golden cat like eyes.

"What's a freak doing here."

If you recall correctly this 'freak' was called a 'Witcher' from the books you have read. People with supernatural abilities that was similar to the Mages here, but of course with a few differences. Apparently these Witchers slay monsters for money and they aren't really welcome to most people because of their actions. Such hubris these humans possess judging one's abilities and actions instead of taking the time for knowing them.

You eyed the man as he walked to a table that had a man drinking away his problems because of an incident. From what you heard lost some supplies and men to something in the woods nearby. Not that you care about someone's misfortune, you went back reading your book when something caught your interest in the man's and Witcher's conversation.

"The monster you are describing sounds like a demon, but not any demon that I may know of."

A smirk slowly appeared on your face when you heard this. If a Witcher who is suppose to identify all types of monster can't even identify this demon then it must be from Hell. Perhaps this day won't be just you sitting around reading afterall.

Closing your book, you went up their table with your cane. The cane is just part of your disguise to make you look cripple and helpless. There are occasional times where some robbers and bandits tried to steal from you but that only led you to use some 'magic' on them.

"May I ask you what did this Demon looked like?" Both men looked at you when you appeared. You took a quick glance at the Witcher's medallion hoping it wont react to you. You leaned on your cane as the client explained what he saw.

"It's skin completely green and there something on it's head like some kind of octopus. On it's back was spider like legs and it appeared to have some green light around it." You automatically knew what it was.

"Ah! The demon you are describing to me is a Timor Daemonium or a Fear Demon. It's a good thing you ran for your life, crafty bastards can summon lesser demons to help them fight."

"You seems like you know this demon." You turned your head towards the Witcher and gave him a small smile.

"Yes, I happen to came across these demons a few times." That was a lie. These types Demons where created from Lucifer; where there is fear there is pride.

It seems like siblings want to return to Hell if they are sending their creations to find you.

"Mr. Witcher, may I tag along on your hunt. You can keep the reward I'm not interested in that. What I'm interested is the demon." The Witcher looked at you suspiciously, but soon agreed.

With the agreement settled, the two of you were out your way to find the Fear Demon. You were perhaps a good distance from the village for you to drop the act. You swung your cane onto your shoulders and started to walk naturally. This caught the Witcher's attention.

"The cripple act is something you always do?"

You looked up to the white hair male and gave him a sly smile. "Something like that. In this age men or women wouldn't want to have sex with someone who is cant walk properly know can they?"

"Not if you have your chest out like that." He mumble but you heard it just fine afterall advance hearing is part of the Demon charm.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

The road to the location was silent for quite away, but you decide to break the ice once more.

"The name's (Y/N) and you are Mr. Witcher?"

"Geralt of rivia. Rather be called by my name than Mr. Witcher. You seem to know your demonology quite well."

"It's my pride and joy the only thing I can actually do than just reading one's 'future'." You air quote the word 'future's.

Geralt raised an eyebrow when you said this. He was about to ask you what you just meant when you stopped him with your cane. You raised a finger to your lips to silence him as he listen to whatever you were trying find.

It was then he realized why you stopped them, a green like fog floated in a small part of the forest that most likely was hiding the Demon.

Using your cane to grabbed his necklace you brought Geralt closer to whisper in his ear.

"They are vulnerable to lightening. Can you cast anything like that?"

"I can cast Aard will that work?" You gently removed your cane from his necklace and took a step forward.

"That will have to do. I'll distract for a bit once you have a clear shot cast your spell and I'll do the rest." You raised your cane in front of you then announcing a name.

"Talon, I might need some help." A black smoke started to come out of your cane then a panther came out of the fog. Turning back to Geralt you told him hide while you faced the Demon.

Unaware to you is that when you summon your 'familiar' Geralt's medallion started to vibrate. If he question you now then they will lose the Demon, but if he question you later then you might not even answer his question at all. But with no other option he did what you ordered.

Talon had pounced on the Fear Demon giving you time to remove your blade out it's sheathed and started to attack it. If you remember correctly from what Lucifer said they are vulnerable to any type of lightning attacks, even though Aard is not a lightning base attack it should do the trick.

You caught off one of it's spider like appendages that were trying to attack you. It's blood seeped out of it limb, but one it's limb managed to hit your side. You grunted as the rising pain to your side, but manage to pull through.

You dodged an incoming slice from the Demon before it ripped off Talon off it's back. You scanned the area to see where did Geralt hid, your search ended quickly when Geralt had appeared behind the Demon then attacking with Aard. With a stroke of your arm a black smoke appeared around you changing your (h/c) hair to a silver color with the tattoos that was scatter on your arm suddenly glowed.

"Alliges Duplicia (Bind)." The tattoos on your arms were removed and sent flying towards the demon, binding him.

You were amused as it tried to struggled it's way out of the bonds.

"Cur auxilium eius? (Why are you helping him?)." The Demon sneered at you. Luckily Geralt can't understand what it's trying to say, but that doesn't mean he already knows something's up with you.

"Cause why not?"

"Plurimum autem periculosissima et daemonem. Et auxiliatus sum tibi haec ... homine isto? (You are the most powerful and most dangerous demon. And yet you help this...this human!)."

"First of all, this human is name Geralt. Second of all you mean former. I step down remember?"

"Inferos non inveni novum irae. Tu tantum potior esse irae. (Hell has not found a new Wrath. You are only one best suited to be Wrath.)"

"Well, you better find a replacement soon or..." You took a quick glance at Geralt who gave you a raised eyebrow. Seems like he is slowly starting to put the pieces in it's place. "Or else Hell will release it's demons and the Dammned soon."

"Talon, return him to Lucifer." You called out to your familiar . The panther compiled with it's order grabbing the Demon by it's hair it disappeared into a cloud of black smoke.

You sighed. It seems like your siblings won't be stopping their attacks anytime soon as long as you stay here on Tameria.

"You have a lot of explaining to do." Oh yeah that's right. Geralt can't understand what the Demon just said.

"Depends how much they are paying you." You swiped your hair back as the once silver color return back to it's natural hair color.

"25 crowns."

"Shit. Fine 10 questions you can ask me, but first camp." Geralt notice how it was already dark so he'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.

Once the fire was going, the two of you sit on opposite directions for safety reasons. Which was fine by you, you still needed to to patch up the nasty wound on your side. When you finished you rummaged through your satchel to pull out the same book you were reading earlier.

"First question go." You said. Geralt would've thought you were getting impatient, but considering how you were kicking back and reading a book said otherwise.

What a strange person you were. If you are consider you a person.

"Don't know what that demon was saying, but base on how it called you a daemonem or a demon just like how you translated back at the tavern. You are just like it aren't? A demon?"

You finger stopped at the tip of your page that you were about to turn. The gesture meant that Geralt was right you aren't human.

"You aren't wrong." You turn the page and set your book down to the side to get up and slowly walked towards. "But it's my turn Witcher do you want to know really want to know what my Demon name is?"

When you went to his side if the fire you were already up to his face. With a a smirk on your face waiting for his answer.

"Ire. What does it mean?"

"I'll give you a hint. When a person sees you; a Witcher. What is there reaction?" Geralt was slowly starting to see what you might be, but had to be sure to confirm it.

"They look at me with disgust, hatred, and..." For some reason couldn't finish the last part of his sentence as he gazed into your eyes. He wonders if you were actually a succubus or incubus or even a demon who can hypnotize people.

"Go on." You encourage him to finish it. "Unless you want me to say it for you, Geralt of Rivia."

God. Just hearing his name from your tongue makes him want to take you here an now.

"They look at me with..."

"Anger." The two of you finished at the same time.

"Oh fuck it." Geralt pulled your head closer to his giving you a heated lip session. If he was going to die at least he was going to die from a sexy sin demon.

Taglist

@jessevans @mystrie @midnattsorg

[lunarthedragon]

Demon!Jaskier Part 3

Part One: here | Part Two: here

+++

He likes the quiet worlds. The worlds that are stuck between wars, between enlightenment, between art, between history. When people are just people, never to be written into their books or scrolls or tombs.

It is quiet. It is honest.

He thrives off the delicate moments of reality. The joy and entertainment not meant to sooth a wound. Not meant to pride over philosophy.

It is pure-honest-raw. Mindless laughter, never forced. A burn from an oven, not a pyre. A bruise from a toy ball, not a fist. A cut from a page, not an axe.

He likes these best.

+++

He does not wake slowly. He is unconscious and then not. There is little difference, little change, except how others perceive him, and he never cared much about that anyway.

His chest has been wrapped in thick bandages. Not to heal, but to keep blood off the lovely, fine sheets. The curse is gone, he can feel the push-pull on the wound has been relieved, and he begins to mend the hole.

There are still black veins along his bared limbs and his eyes are pitch black as they look to the sorceress sitting at the foot of the bed. Her back is to him. She does not know he is aware.

He recedes back into his body as the wound heals, feeling like wet wax in a mold, wanting to harden and take shape but never quite-right.

The black veins recede, but his eyes stay dark.

“Hello,” he says, his voice an echo in his cavernous body.

The sorceress stills, startled, but composes herself quickly as she looks around at him. There are designs, freshly painted, on her front, and he tilts his head at them.

“You’re awake,” observes the sorceress, slowly standing, attempting to look bigger than she really is. Chaos envelops her like an old friend, in a way he has seen so few sorcerers and sorceresses do – too frightened, too lost, too greedy – and he straightens back up.

“Yes,” he says. He would usually be more talkative, but he is flayed and speaking at a distance, far away in his own body, and he would like to slip back into an unconscious state. Make his body prone and receptive. Fill in the corners of that mold and dry until he can momentarily pretend that he fits.

“You are—”

“I don’t like you putting spells on my friend,” he cuts her off, black eyes blinking slowly. He never was spectacular with his filter.

The sorceress arches a brow, delicate and strong in a single motion. Impressive. “Now, how would you know about that? You were asleep,” she accuses without actually accusing. Jaskier thinks he quite likes her.

“Was I?” he questions, lips stretching into a too-big, too-thin smile.

The sorceress narrows her purple eyes suspiciously, turning to pace to the other side of the bed, like a prowling panther. “You are not human,” she says, then scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Clearly. Energumen?”

“I really would appreciate it if people would stop calling me that,” he huffs, pouting, and adjusting to sit back against the headboard of the bed.

“Demon, then?”

“Close enough,” he shrugs, setting his hands in his lap.

“Certainly something strong enough to pick a fight with a djinn and survive,” the sorceress observes. “I know you do not hold the djinn’s wishes. I know it is Geralt, despite him saying otherwise.”

“Likely attempting to explain the wound,” Jaskier nods.

“Claimed a wish gone bad,” the sorceress explains, “That you’d wished never to have your heart broken again.”

“And he calls me the dramatic.”

“And now, he has done what I needed done and waits where I can easily retrieve him.”

“Yes…” Jaskier pauses to look around the, frankly, lovely room. “Where is Geralt?”

The sorceress sneers, somehow still beautiful, and says, “What? Don’t know everything after all?”

“Of course not, Y̸͖̓̏ẻ̵̚ͅn̶̐͜n̷̳͒ę̸̒f̴̫̽e̷̖̜͝r̷͔͚͛,” the sorceress startles as he tears her name from the void, from her chest, from the past and present and future. “If I knew everything I wouldn’t bother living in your worlds. It would all be far too boring.”

Yennefer storms back to the foot of the bed, a firestorm in her eyes waiting to come loose. She glares at him, glares down to the pieces of him that still remember agony.

“Either you will help me,” she says, warns, commands, “Or I will fetch your Witcher and use the djinn.”

“You will never bear children, Yennefer of Vengerberg,” he says calmly, casually, as he slips sideway and sits on the edge of the bed. His doublet and chemise are missing, likely too stained with black ooze to ever be recovered, and he begins to unwrap the bandages around his chest. His skin is whole again, no flesh scar in sight, but he still feels it. Faint and fading. A ripple to be ironed out.

“Excuse me?” Yennefer says, hardly more than a whisper, the firestorm within growing so hot she coats herself in ice to combat it. “You have… No idea what I—”

“You are familiar with the conjunction of the spheres?” he cuts in, not in the mood for… whatever had been winding up there.

“What? Yes, of course!” Yennefer snaps, sharp as icicles.

“I predate that. Predate your sight and your books. Your cells and your marrow,” he says lowly, looking towards the sorceress as he wraps up the black-stained bandages. Dark veins that match his eyes reappear on his shoulders and arms. Comfortable. Familiar.

“I have lived far more lives than you can imagine. I have experienced heartache, fury, sorrow, euphoria. I have been a mother, a father, a killer, a savior. Do not claim I do not understand, for I understand more than anyone,” he heaves a breath he does not need, “Speak clearly. Your wild rage falls on deaf ears until it can be wielded.”

“Order to my chaos?” Yennefer snarls, a memory in her eyes that Jaskier does not dwell on.

“Sword to your knight,” he corrects, “Scythe to your reaper. You coat yourself in it. It is the armor you hide behind, when it should be a weapon you wield.”

Yennefer says nothing, glaring at him, her plan falling apart around her without her even realizing. Her mind is shifting, changing, adjusting. Reconsidering.

“My choices were taken from me,” she snarls eventually. “Stolen from me.”

“Some were,” Jaskier agrees, because it is partially true. The threads of Yennefer’s past and fate not all pulling towards herself. “This one wasn’t.”

She looks at him sharply, taking a step towards him as if to threaten. To hurt.

“It was your own choice that led you to this outcome, but that is what hurts the most, isn’t it?” he says and his voice twists, thickening and bubbling out as his hands turn black, too. ”It was always someone else’s fault for hurting you. Abandoning you. Leaving the scars that cannot be seen. You’re used to it. Used to letting someone else take the lead. You may not give them the sword, but you bare your neck.”

“Be quiet,” Yennefer growls, taking another step closer.

”But then, you finally have a choice. Your own choice. A choice with repercussions, but you take it because it is yours. You think you take control. You think you have rule over yourself. Yet all your actions are a cry for help. A cry for vengeance. A cry for pity.”

“Shut up.”

”You are a response, Yennefer of Vengerberg!” he roars, the windows shaking, the candles flickering, the stones growing moss. He pauses, staring at the furious, lavender eyes before him, and calms himself. He pulls back his veins, his claws, but leaves his eyes. “You could so easily be action. You do not want your womb. A child. You want to be loved, but refuse to love yourself.”

“Who says I don’t love myself?” Yennefer snarls, leaning towards Jaskier, who looks up at her from his seat. Completely calm.

“You wear a very pretty mask. My whole life is a mask, I know what they look like,” he replies, then begins to stand. Yennefer steps back, as if she expects him to attack, but he just stands there, holding his hand out in offer.

“I have lived as a mother for children I never gave birth to,” he says, his voice soft, cool as frozen dew, and Yennefer stutters in her spot. Her eyes widen.

“How?” she demands, stepping closer again, but not taking the offered hand.

“Many ways. Surrogacy in some places. Adoption in others. Love in them all,” he says and Yennefer’s lips thin, apparently not liking that answer. Jaskier narrows his eyes. “A child is not obligated to love you. To care about you. And they won’t if that is all you want out of them. But to love yourself and give love, you will always have it returned.”

“What happened to me ‘wielding fury as a weapon’?” Yennefer snaps.

“I do not see why you cannot have both?” Jaskier tilts his head.

They are silent, his hand still outstretched, and her aura thick. Thick with the unsaid. Thick with the reconsidered. Thick with the plans she thinks she hides so well from him. Thick with power and possibility.

She glares at him, glares with a purple wildfire, and slowly reaches out and takes his hand.

+++

Jaskier, after Cintra, makes sure to visit often.

The midday shadows are long and the night is thin, letting him bleed through the streets and alleys and people without them knowing.

They don’t see him come, don’t see him go, but they are resigned that he exists. That he is there. That he means no harm.

Calanthe attempted to throw him out the first few times she turned and he was standing beside her, but each time guards dragged him to the gate they found their hands empty as their queen’s enraged shriek echoed through the halls.

Eist thinks he’s funny. Jaskier likes Eist.

Pavetta always sees him like no one else does, sees the shadow of his shadow, the voice that curls under his skin, and she greets it like a friend. He always plays her the sweetest songs, assuring her the soul in her belly is strong and bright.

Then, when Cirilla enters the world, he sings for her too and makes her laugh with his tricks.

She has chaos in her core like her mother, not yet soured from repression, and she grows up fearless of boys or swords or dark eyes. She laughs when Jaskier flickers behind a guard, startling them when they turn. She begs him to “do the thing” and watches as a hand pushes under his skin, like pushing against a curtain, and strains the skin. He vomits black to scare off tutors when she grows tired of lessons.

“You spoil her more than me,” Pavetta smiles as she and Duny prepare for a trip on the sea.

Jaskier smells death, feels it in the back of his eyeballs, knows they will not return and the space in the shadows of Cintra will fill with sorrow and tears, red like blood. He can feel the void, closing around them, and it feels like he’s staring at a mirror.

It feels like him.

“Someone needs to,” he says instead, smiling, his blue eyes twinkling.

“She’s a princess,” Pavetta rolls her eyes.

Jaskier says nothing. He says nothing nothing nothing.

Only good-bye.

+++

“Good news, Geralt!” Jaskier announces as he walks out of the mayor’s house just as the Witcher comes towards it. “I have made a lovely new friend! You met Yennefer, yes? Gorgeous sorceress? Bewitched you to harass a few diplomats?”

“Got me thrown in a cell,” Geralt growls, looking dubious but also incredibly tasty. Jaskier has never seen him in the leathers he wears now.

“Charming woman, isn’t she?” He then notices Geralt’s own eyes flicking downward. At first, he assumes he is looking at the new shirt Yennefer gave him and he puffs up, preening at the attention, but then realizes the Witcher is likely concerned over something else.

He reaches to pull down the loose collar of the black top and show his bare chest. Something in Geralt jumps, but it is repressed so violently even Jaskier cannot see it.

“I am perfectly fine. As I assured you before,” he smiles and Geralt huffs, looking away. “Now, onto the subject of that djinn. We should sort out your last two—”

“One. I only have one wish left,” Geralt corrects, “Blew up a guards head.”

“Unoriginal, but very well,” Jaskier huffs and he can feel the swell of the djinn in indignation. He doesn’t hide his smirk. He is safe from any further attacks thanks to Geralt’s first wish. “Now, as for the third and final wish… I had an idea,” he smirks even wider, thinner, and glances back at the house where he can feel Yennefer in thought.

Her spell had been dispelled the moment Jaskier touched her skin, and she had begrudgingly accepted that. She had not changed her mind, but she had been given much to think about. He could feel the turmoil in her head, the fire raging white but compressing into a single point.

It worried him.

He did not do well with worry.

“It is your choice, of course, but hear me out…” he turns back to the Witcher, who watches him closely, standing closer than seems necessary. “I worry for what she will do. I worry she will do herself too serious a grievance before she can become something greater than her past. You must be careful with your wording, but…”

“You want me to make a wish for her,” Geralt finishes, looking thoughtful, and his own eyes flick to the mayor’s house.

“It is your choice, of course, and you really must be aware how you word it, but I think—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s eyes thin suspiciously, eying Geralt and feeling out his mind. His soul.

He is curious. Not like when he is given a particularly unique contract. Something lighter and sweeter. Something that doesn’t fit what Jaskier knows of Geralt, but somehow feels familiar on his skin. It’s…

Oh…

Geralt is smitten.

He tries to hold back his smile, but it leaks through anyway. It doesn’t feel happy. It feels anguished.

Geralt steps back, crossing his arms and closing his eyes, deliberating over how he wants to say his final wish. Considers for a long time. And then his lips move and the pressure in the air nearly knocks them back.

A storm on the ground, twisting and roaring. Something tethers, like an anchor caught on a stone. Heavy and unruly. Breaking and holding.

It pulls tight, braided with fire and ice. Geralt’s shadow stretches towards the sun.

And then the djinn is gone.

Jaskier feels it pulse once before it is fully free, the current taking it up, up, up. The euphoria is palpable, vibrant as a bird’s feathers. Refreshing as the open air. Warm like home cooking. Freedom.

Jaskier is staring up at the clear sky, clouds curling like a storm, but not with the same promise, when Geralt sucks in a sharp breath.

Jaskier looks at him, then follows his gaze back to the mayor’s house. The windows have been shattered from the release, but he doesn’t think there is anything to be concerned over. Still, Geralt pushes past him, speaking lowly, “I’ll meet you back with Roach,” before hurrying towards the building.

The tether – anchor crushing a stone, holding a ship still as a wave comes crashing down – fades as Geralt leaves.

Jaskier blinks. Whatever the djinn did, it clearly had nothing to do with him… But what could Geralt’s final wish have been? And how could the djinn have manipulated it for their own, malicious enjoyment?

The feeling of finally-here-colliding-obsession-infatuation-pleasure-pain-agony knocks the breath out of Jaskier and he steps back, staring up at the house in shock. Euphoria, but a different kind. A physical kind. Mounting and mounting in a way that feels too sudden. Too rushed.

He knows the feeling. Partakes in the feeling. Loves the feeling.

But this makes something in him roil and curl, contorting back and away until it pulls at his spine. Pulls at his veins like strings on a puppet. Pulls on his heart, strangling it with arteries and claws.

Why? Why does this hurt? Why does he care?

He moves without moving, the world twisting and spinning beneath him before he collapses in a field of flowers on the other side of the world. On a continent forgotten and abandoned.

The crushing on his heart becomes too much and he falls to his knees, raising a black, clawed hand, and plunging it into his chest. Ribs shatter like glass, red blood gushes before it turns black. Skin and eyes turn black, black, and blacker still. Not veins, an all-encompassing shadow eats over his flesh. A living-dead-vacant echo.

He rips out his lungs, throwing them out of the way, and tears out his heart with a shriek. He shrieks and shrieks and shrieks, black vomit and tendrils and hands erupting from his throat and his chest and his spine and his limbs. A mass of nothing and everything.

A single hand is held out, fingers too long, seemingly unaffected by the way the rest of him writhes and cries out. His red heart, still beating, sits in his palm, waiting and hurting and never going away.

He wants the end, but he cannot want himself.

With a shuddering, worldly crack, he pulls his hand in, cradling his heart close to the crater where it once sat.

Anguish. Anguish. So much anguish.

It was his own fault.

Shouldn’t get attached.

That’s why he’s here.

Kill the middle. End the lessons. The journey is death. The end is nothing.

Take him back.

Take him back.

Take me back.

+++

When he comes to, he is whole. His chest is whole and pink, like a fresh wound or a human, he forgets.

There are no organs in his palms, only dirt and ash.

Tears roll down his face. They taste like the ocean.

He’s crouched in a field of death and decay, dead flowers hanging over too-large corpses. Hands, larger than buildings, frozen where they fell in the distance. Ribs curve like archways over his head, closing him in.

He stands and turns and he is gone, smiling when Roach is there and nickers in greeting, the world green and lively once more. The mayor’s house off in the distance, but he pays it no heed. Instead, he pets the Witcher’s mare and waits. Waits. Waits.

A̵l̶w̶a̵y̶s̷ ̷w̴a̸i̸t̵i̵n̵g̸.

+++

Here are the people that asked me to tag them for this part! However, not all of them Tumblr would let me mention, so please make sure you’re not set as a private blog or anything like that. @so-damn-mishalicious​ @patrycjami-chan @matcha0milk @zoeyszone @katgirl05 @tokilabitch

It’s also on ao3 now: here

Part 4 to come soon. These are really fun to write!

[speaknowslut13]

Hello honey bunches!

I am also dead after yesterday’s announcement akdhskhska Red was not at all what I was expecting to come next but I’m so excited! Red holds such a special place in my heart ugh 🥺 which songs are you most looking forward to??

Gross, I’m sorry to hear that the fire season is already bad there. It’s predicted to be a bad one in my home state too, but it usually doesn’t come in full force until august. I do not miss the smokiness at all. It hasn’t quite hit triple digits here yet, but close, and it’s so humid, I feel like the air is sticking to me. Hopefully it cools off just a bit soon for both our sakes!!

Awe that’s so cute! 🥺🥺

Well maybe I’ll take a dive into black panther this evening while I lay in front of my fan hahaha. Oh I didn’t realize Deadpool was marvel! I love that movie, Ryan Reynolds is *chef’s kiss*

The answer is NEVER to downsize books oml 😶😶 I have four bookshelves at my parents house, one at my friends house where I lived for five summers, and one where I currently live. Someday they will all be back with me, but that day is not today sadly

Awe okay love that! I’m happy for you that you’re all close 🥰 I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned but I have one younger sister and I miss her terribly.

Ohhh interesting! Coding goes way over my head, I’ve tried a few free online courses to like learn the basics but I just can’t quite seem to get there. I love watching resin pouring videos, it looks so cool! WhT kind of stuff would you want to make?

Okay but like it’s a fun poem. And that last stanza is really touching! Honestly if it speaks to you, why not want to have it read? Ahh sonnet 130. We spent probably too much time analyzing it in my Shakespeare class but I still can’t hate it because it’s so beautiful. I just finished “The Carrying” a collection by Ada Limón that was pretty good! Quotes from her work sometimes float around on here.

Satire is good when I like it and bad when I don’t, hope that helps 😌 A Modest Proposal is always a fun one to read, and as far as contemporary stuff goes, every once in awhile reductress has something good. That’s so funny about your husbands reaction tho hahahaha would’ve loved to have seen his face.

Ohhh that ones had been on my TBR for awhile, I read Daisy Jones & the Six by that same author and loved it, so your recommendation may have just bumped Seven Husbands up on the list!

What have you been up to over the weekend? And what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? 🍦

Thanku for the flowers omg sunflowers are my favorite 🥺 here’s some back to you 🌹🌷🌻

During the actual school year, I work part time as an assistant English teacher at a high school/English lecturer at a college, right now I’m doing online tutoring! I definitely want to stay in education long term.

Sending you big hugs! Xoxo 💖 Drew

Hey Drew my dear! I’ve had time to process red being announced. I’m a little bummed because we have such a long wait. I fully anticipate being a complete wreck when it drops. I love almost all of red. I’m looking forward most to the unreleased tracks and that ten minute song we all know is all too well.

It was funny in ironic way that she described red as a heartbroken person. I was baffled when the academy told her it wasn’t cohesive enough to win Album of the Year. I’ve always argued that they missed the point. That grief isn’t traditionally sonically cohesive and that’s why it actually is sonically cohesive. Just not in the way they expect. She said it way better than I ever could though.

Ryan Reynolds is top tier amazing. Any movie he’s a part of I instantly like. I’m pretty sure Chase and I would both leave each other for him if he asked. No questions. And we’d both understand entirely. 😂

I need to get my hands on a copy of Daisy Jones and the Six. I want to read that one. But unfortunately, the public library and I aren’t on speaking terms and going and buying a book recently hasn’t been exactly easy. I can’t wait to go into a half price books again. I’m just waiting to do all the non necessary shopping. My daughter obviously isn’t Vaxxed yet. I’m hoping they approve the vaccine for her age group soon. 🤞🏻. I’m nervous to send her back to school in August. But it’s important. She’s on an IEP. So this last year has been rough on all of us. Now the district won’t offer online again so it’s in person or not at all.

Yay America! 🙃

We spent the weekend doing errands and swimming. I have a job interview this week. I haven’t worked in years but I feel like I need to again. There’s just multiple complicated facets to my life that I’m not sure how to juggle. Hopefully I will figure it out. Or it’ll be all for naught.

So I have a few favorites. Like coffee, orange sherbert, and chocolate. But I can’t eat any of them anymore. I have to avoid dairy. I can have a little dairy here and there but milk and ice cream irritate my digestive system too much anymore.

I love food. Love it. Salsa is amazing. Pizza. Wonderful. Spaghetti and marinara dishes are my entire world. Do you know what all that has in common? 🍅 in the last couple of years I’ve not only developed a slight dairy intolerance, but a tomato allergy and a gluten intolerance! I’m sad 😞 Tomato is in everything though. It’s like I can’t get away from it. It really sucks.

I 100 percent don’t recommend chronic illness. If I was leaving an Amazon review it would be one of those “have to give it one stars but it’s really zero” reviews.

Bless you, Drew. I admire anyone who educates. It’s a skill set that I have very little patience for. So anyone who can is like a god to me.

So my little ADD brain almost forgot to talk about the resin! It’s a cute little idea we have for Dungeons and Dragons. But I’d also like just to create all kinds of different things. Plus it’s an excellent reason to acquire a 3D printer.

Chase and I are trying to learn how to play DnD. He’s always been interested and I’ll follow him anywhere 🤷‍♀️ plus character creating is fun! When it comes down to the actual playing, I don’t know if I’ll enjoy it or not. But I’ll try almost anything once.

I hope your weekend was splendid and I can’t wait to hear back from you soon!