#(+ joy and golden who I mentioned are victims before)

[multishipper-baby]

Finally decided to publish all the executions for my DR AU, with names and all! General trigger warning for violence and death.

Ultimate Seamstress Execution: The Tailor Shop of Death.

Chica is in front of a table covered in fabric, seamstress tools and a clock. There's a shackle around her neck with a chain that extends upwards. Maipet hands her a piece of paper with measurements and instructs her to make a dress before the time limit runs out.

She gets to work, trying to finish the dress as quickly as possible. However, as she works, the chain slowly starts pulling her upwards, choking her. Just as she's about to do the finishing touches, the chain abruptly moves faster, making her accidentally rip a part of the dress. With the time limit now over and no way to fix her mistake, the chain finally chokes her to death.

Ultimate Copycat Execution: Funhouse Mirrors.

Loon is put in the center of a room whose walls are made from reflective glass. The walls slowly start closing around him and, in a panic, he starts trying to break through one of them with his body. After throwing himself against the wall various times, the glass shatters, making him fall to the floor.

As he takes a second to look over the many cuts he received from the the glass, movement catches his eye, and he notices that he's surrounded by more walls of glass closing in on him. Frustrated, he tries to break through them again, only to find out that this glass is much more resistant. Not being able to break the walls, he's quickly crushed by them.

Ultimate Hypnotist Execution: Newton's Cradle.

Cami is hung upside down, with both her legs and hands restrained. At both her left and right, various spheres hang lined up from the ceiling, the same size as her head. The rightmost sphere is slowly lifted and then released, hitting the others- which lands a blow to her head, causing her to strike the ones at her left. With every cycle of this happening, the spheres pick up speed, striking her head harder and harder, until they eventually run out of momentum. By the time they stop, Cami's head is completely covered in her own blood.

So, this, but with a human head in the middle:

Ultimate Basketball Player Execution: Flagrant 2 Foul- Suspension!

Fox is attempting to climb out of what appears to be a giant basketball net. There's only an abyss below the net, with no indication of how low the drop is. As he struggles to climb, Meg appears at the top of the net, visibly worried about him. Wanting to get to his sister, Fox tries to climb even faster.

Eventually, he's close enough to almost reach her... But just at that moment, the net catches fire. Feeling the burning in his hands, he instinctively lets go of the net, falling down. He tries to make a grab for another part of it, but the net disintegrates due to the fire, and he's left plummeting to his death.

Meg, who tried to reach into the net to save him, ends up badly burning the right side of her body.

Ultimate Bodyguard Execution: Explosive Firing Squad!

Eak is left at the top of a tall building, with no way to get out except for a door at the bottom of a long staircase. As he starts going down, a bullet grasses his face, and he quickly turns to his side. Various Maipets with guns surround the building, and are firing at him through the windows. He begins to descend as fast as possible while more bullets grace him, some even managing to hit his arms, which he's trying to use to protect his head.

Finally, as he's reaching the bottom, a bullet hits him on the side head and he falls down the last set of stairs... But it's not strong enough to kill him. Painfully, he crawls until he reaches the door and grabs the handle. As soon as the handle is pulled down, a loud beeping sound starts playing, and he barely has time to react before the whole bottom floor explodes. The building collapses in on itself, completely burying his body under rubble.

[fleetingcalypso]

Even children can act as Kings, even Kings can act as children.

≋ There is a certain joy in acting childish with one's lover at times. Far too often with time we become accustomed to a routine and abandon that carefreeness. Play harmless pranks on your beloveds, it is worthy if only to hear their laugh, see their smile lines and their eye crinkle.≋

≋ Cardan Greenbriar x Jude Duarte ≋

≋ Word count: 1350 words.

≋ CW: Mentions of alcohol. This is set sometime after Queen of Nothing, nowhere specific in the timeline, just a dip into Cardan and Jude's married life.

“Quit your squirming and drink this.” Jude’s ever present frown is noticeable even just by the tone of her voice, “I’d rather not have to pry your lips open, pour tea down your throat and risk staining these pristine sheets.” She was met just with an amused hum, coming from the bump currently occupying the High King’s bed, unruly raven strands of hair stand out against the blankets. “Your aim is far too perfect to ever miss my lips, sweetest joy I’ve ever known.” His muffled voice fails to hide the saccharine honey dripping from his words, in fact it did nothing to dissuade her from the matter at hand: make Cardan drink a hot tea to facilitate his return to sobriety. 

Brown eyes roll in annoyance and her free hand itches to throw the covers off his body, pin him to the bed and make him listen to her, but knowing him he’d find no lesson nor punishment from it, only pleasure. “You’ll find that flattery rarely ever is a way to change my mind, Cardan. I won’t repeat myself, sit up and drink.” Oh, how he loves that sliver of a threat in her voice. Reluctantly his form emerges from his burrow, with sluggish movements and a low groan that sounds anything but dignified. He’s sitting up at last, but the worst is yet to come: the herbal tea residing in the golden goblet Jude holds needs to be drank by his royal lips, and if he’s so kindly complied with sitting up, she can only imagine how much the High King is going to whine before he takes even the smallest of sips. To her surprise no whine comes, instead, as Cardan is greeted by a scowling face -of which he is too busy admiring pouty soft lips he knows taste like a golden sunset- Jude is greeted with rosy cheeks,a glazed gaze veiling a trickster’s twinkle and the smallest peek of pearly white teeth biting down on a bottom lip that is still damp with what is most likely faerie wine. For what feels like forever, but very well could have been only a second, the only movement in the room is midnight eyes running across all of Jude’s features, drinking her in like she was the sweetest of inebriants, resting at the very bottom of a bottle, swirling around in a hurricane of red at the slightest movement of his hand. “Every time I look at you, wife, you always look more beautiful than the last. And when I blink, and my eyes are shut, that’s when the magic happens, I can still spot you imprinted in the darkness. That’s never enough for my greedy heart, though, lucky for me when light comes back, you’re still there. You don’t disappear when the dark fades. You never do.” There are the words of a drunk, Jude needs to remind herself: a drunk who is very much in love with her, a drunk who married her and fought against all odds to forever keep her by his side, a drunk who is the High King of Elfhame and who rules on , but a drunk nonetheless. A foolish enamored fae who thinks he can get out of sobriety with the allure of a few sweet words.  No one could be this adoring to another living being, she’s sure of it, he seems to wholly be the contradiction to each and every one of her assumptions about the world. The way his words don’t slur almost turns her into a helpless victim to his charm. Almost. “Drink, Cardan.” Not even a single droplet of tea accidentally rolls down the goblet when she taps the edge of it against his bottom lip. Another hum escapes him as his eyes narrow, maybe the scent of sweet herbs swirled together delights him, or maybe, just maybe it’s her being too flustered to say anything that makes his heart sing.

“This is what I awake for, each day of my lowly life,” he says, his voice swirling in the air like a glamour as his long, rings-clad fingers graze hers while wrapping around the cup, “To hear you say my name, just like that. You make it sound like a curse and a blessing, all at once.” 

“Cardan,” she insists he stops talking and begins drinking. After another moment of admiring her, the corner of his lips curls upwards, he takes just a small sip, barely enough liquid makes it into the warmth of his mouth to be considered one. “Done.” His voice is a level of low she’s heard only a handful of times before. 

The scoff that leaves her is almost comedic, he doesn’t miss a second before his voice from low becomes a purr from the back of his throat, “I’ve done it, my love. Shouldn’t I be rewarded?” Jude’s fingers softly tilt his head up, she should have seen this coming. “You’ll get your reward when you drink all of your tea, you sly, cunning thing.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” He breathes.

“You could always find out.” 

“I don’t need to. I know you’re not lying,” The goblet slips out of his hand and hits the floor with a clunk after he chugs what is probably the sweetest herbal tea ever created. A rivulet descends down his chin and he does not bother to wipe it.

Her world and its views shift when Cardan pulls her onto the bed, next to him with a swift motion. “Reward me, now.” He murmurs, his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers threading through brown locks. He doesn’t have to wait much, she’s eager to give him his prize just as much as he’s eager to receive it. 

Their lips meet in the middle first in a soft kiss, until it evolves and it becomes difficult to ascertain where Jude ends and where Cardan begins. His knee nestles itself between her thighs, her hands slide into his unbuttoned shirt, their breaths are entangled as one. 

“I love watching you fight,” he sighs against her neck, “Even if it’s against me. Especially if it’s against me.” His fingers draw invisible, shapeless figures on her back, sending shivers down her spine, they’re still clothed but when he holds her like this she can’t help but feel naked, completely and utterly naked. 

Their glistening lips meet one last time before Cardan’s hand slides down to intertwine his fingers with hers, “It was worth it.” One slightly confused look from his human goddess prompts him to elaborate, “Having to drink that horrendously sweet tea for the second time. It was worth it, if it got you to look at me the way you do.”

“Second time?” Jude sits up, her head tilts in an even deeper confusion, this time whirling with a blossom of confusion that quickly shifts into annoyance once it clicks. 

His laugh echoes in the room, “Liliver all but forced it down my throat a couple hours ago as you threatened to do, just now. While her… quite intimidating ways have worked on me, I was curious to see how you’d convince me. As it turns out, not even my darling wife can unmask my facade when she’s busy worrying about me.” 

Satisfaction tastes sweet, it tastes even sweeter when a soft pillow hits him a number of times, knowing he was able to trick his quick-witted Jude and that she is retaliating with the one thing she finds comfort in: violence, although a softer, more sensible version of it, is a feeling he’ll never grow tired of. To Jude’s dissatisfaction Cardan’s laugh only grows louder and more melodic.

It’s a bright, warm summer’s day in Elfhame. From Insmire, to Insmoor and Insweal no one has any idea that the High King and the High Queen are busy having a pillow fight in the privacy of their bedroom, not a soul would suspect that just for a moment their monarchs are playing like children, keeping secrets from the world like teens and living their love like grown ups.

[dovithedarklord]

Stucked - Part 4

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

..............................................

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains blood and gore, violence, some body horror, and some dubcon (lightly). Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

......................................................

Author's Note

The story gets more complicated and violent, so be prepared!

I've been watching way too many horror movies again, and I was sick too, so I gathered some firsthand experience for some of the sensations our poor MC has to face. But now I feel much better, can't say the same about her... Well, there's that :D

Have fun! :D

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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The sound of soft laughter fills the walls of the house, painted golden yellow from the fire, and the lingering shadows of your companions loom over the carved wood like nightmarish demons. And with each step, you get closer and closer to the deceptive cheerfulness that unfolds below, which flows like a sick play around the laid table. As if an idyllic moment was snatched from a comedy movie meant for children and families, every minute of which is full of perfectly written laughter and undisturbed joy, but every giggle crawls into your ear canals on the slimy legs of a disgusting maggot, to bury itself in your brain and push you closer to madness with each minute.

You sneak closer to the stairs with careful quietness, unable to take your eyes off the scene unfolding in the middle of the spacious living room, because you're afraid that if you draw attention to yourself sooner than necessary, you won't have a chance to escape. Although the treacherous little voice in your head warns you that all your chances of disappearing from this terrible, artificial world were lost when Simon closed his arms around you.

And you reflexively look for the blond man, and as soon as your strained gaze finds his burly figure sitting at the table, terror envelopes your stomach in an icy grip. Every bit of him is deceptively calm, and he rests next to Johnny in his chair with such careless relaxation as if he always belonged there at the birthday dinner. But you see the waiting danger in his eyes, which makes him look like a wolf killing some time before finally tearing his victim to pieces, who doesn't even know that they willingly laid their neck in his open jaws. And it seems cruel how the two girls engage in a light-hearted conversation with the two men amid wild gesticulations and cozy delight, because you know exactly that each carefree sound that leaves their mouths is a precursor to a painful scream in the dead of the night.

Every member of yours is protesting against going down, and your legs tug you back like leaden weights, as you try to drag your body, heavy with fear, forward. As if with each step, the thread that binds you with weak fingers to the fleeting promise of survival is unraveling a little more. You'll have to go down though. Because if you hide, you risk the wrath of the game. You need information to get a new clue, and if you don't join this miserable charade, you'll lose any chance of finding anything. You have to do it even if every cell of yours screams agonizingly with dread.

The polished wood of the stairs creaks as you slowly descend the steps, and the eyes of the two men fixate on you almost on command, like two hungry vultures before which the delicious meal has finally appeared. And you realize bitterly that it's not so far off  from reality, because you're probably only a few hours away from someone quenching their thirst with your still-warm blood after they've hunted you down like an animal.

NO! Enough! You can't think that! Even though this wretched place wants to make it difficult for you to win, you must not let it get its way, because then you'll wither away in this quicksand of raw flesh and screams, stuck in endless suffering. You must not let it win. You won't let it win.

Your determination eases the trembling that shakes your knees wildly, and as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you straighten your back out, because these two bloodthirsty monsters must not see that they were able to plant the seeds of hopelessness in your mind. Even if this bitter feeling has taken root, you should not allow them to find morbid joy in it. Because that would be equal to your defeat.

"The birthday girl is finally here!" Pam exclaims enthusiastically as she turns back to you to look at you, and for a moment her kindness breaks your heart as you let her spring up and lead you to the empty chair at the head of the table with tender, friendly love. You don't deserve a minute of her attention, even if there's nothing real behind it. A fictional creature, whose empty shell is filled with life by the game, just so that it can take this temporary existence away as painfully as possible. But still, as she pushes you down to the chair with a warm smile and squeezes your shoulder excitedly, your throat tightens painfully with pity. You gave up trying to save them a long time ago, you forgot the compassion you felt for them, yet now your brain, overloaded because of the impossible events, allows you for a moment to feel sympathy for them. "The best place belongs to the celebrated!" She chirps, and when she's certain that you've made yourself comfortable, he strolls back to her seat, with such an unworried spring in her step that you recall quite cruelly how quickly this lightness turns into desperate fear as she runs for her life. And despite this sugary-sweet show, it'll happen soon enough.

And even to you, it's strange how the whole dinner scene begins with such familiar movements, even though Simon has intruded on the well-known story as an uninvited guest. And this might be because he only occasionally interjects a short comment into the smooth flow of events, otherwise not disrupting the dialogue that you have already heard torturously many times. If he does answer, the game bends the threads of its own story so smoothly that, in spite of the new change, you end up in exactly the same place where you have always been. And this fills your soul with such fiery hope that suddenly every cell of yours ignites with the wild desire to act, because if the presence of the masked man doesn't lead the story in a completely new direction, then there is a chance that the clues will still be there where they were before you discovered them... And that makes the doubts clinging to your gut seem to withdraw, and you feel that you can finally breathe for the first time since discovering the book.

"It's so nice of Johnny to put together this dinner, isn't it?" Rebecca chimes in, lifting another bite into her mouth with her fork, carrying her gaze around on the myriad of appetizing dishes displayed on the table with real delight. And you tear yourself out of the continuing web of your thoughts with a startled wince, in which you've been immersed far away, already browsing through the series of clues you've found so far. You run your confused eyes through the group at lightning speed, and when you meet the girl's puzzled expression, you reluctantly turn your attention back to them.

"Yeah... It's very nice of him." You blurt out your scripted, well-rehearsed dialogue, and although your tongue almost goes numb under the weight of the lie, you’re able to force the faint line of an authentic-looking smile on your mouth.

Although everyone seems to calm down, you see sparks of interest in Simon's eyes. And as you carefully look at him and your gaze intertwines with his, you see the unmistakable lines of a smile appearing around his eyes in the warm light. But there is nothing comforting about this gesture, because an almost condescending kindness emanates from his every cell, and this makes him look like no more than a spectator of an unfolding sad comedy. And if he really knows that you're not from here, then all ot this is really nothing more for him than watching a movie up close, the end of which he's perfectly aware of. But you can still surprise him. Because you won't let him think he's in charge. You just have to find a clue…

And you jerk back, almost startled, as Johnny's face swims into your vision, thus hiding the sight of his friend from you, and the change happens so suddenly that you just stare into his cheerful blue eyes, blinking with bewildered surprise.

"It's nothing! I'd dae anythin' for my wee lil' Bunny!" He utters enthusiastically, and although his words don't sound like lies, fear snakes into you along his deep voice. Because this sentence has never appeared anywhere before, and it's so new to your shocked brain that you're unable to register how one of his tanned hands slowly slides onto your fist gripping the fork, wrapping around it like an anaconda on its prey. And even though his touch is light as a feather, you feel as though he's squeezing you in a way that makes all your bones crack, like a couple of dry tree branches. What's this again? Why does the story diverge if it has followed the main storyline so far?

"You're such a lucky girl! I would sell my soul to be treated so well by someone!" Pam sighs longingly, and as she folds her hands in front of her chest with feigned offense, your confusion deepens. Because suddenly this whole horrible interlude takes a turn that is completely unknown to you. Up until now, it's been Pam who has had any sort of romantic streak, because she's the one who gets killed for living out her lustful passion. Thus far, you've never been the center of attention in this way, not even at any level worth mentioning, and the realization that now this is just another complication and death flag cuts into your brain like a knife. And suddenly you feel that the taste of the food turns to ash in your mouth, the dryness of which drags the waves of nausea up your throat.

"Is there something wrong?" Rebecca's worried question cuts through your shock, and as you realize that every pair of eyes is staring at you, you’re filled with the desire to escape. But you don't even dare to move, because you're afraid that every irresponsible action you make will trigger an avalanche that will have harsh consequences.

"I think my stomach is a little upset. Maybe I caught something." You try to explain yourself weakly, and with every nerve you attempt to force authenticity into your features, slowly releasing your hand from Johnny's grip. You have to wait to see what else changes, and to have the slightest chance to search for hints later. Because if you're not careful enough, you lose all hope of even finding a clue.

"Oh, poor lil' Bunny." Johnny grumbles, and although there is some pity in his voice, a hideous undertone lurks behind the sympathetic words that make goosebumps prickle on your skin in an instant. And maybe an outside observer would think that there are indeed wrinkles of kind concern on his face, but you see the joy in his eyes. Like you've just given him something he's been waiting on pins and needles for. "Let me help ye!"

And you soon understand how he wants to help you. Because, as the chair cries out with an ear-splitting scream, when he pulls it uncomfortably close to you, then it's too late for you to escape. The wolf has already found you, and you can do nothing but watch with stunned helplessness as it starts to devour you.

Not a single sound can escape your mouth, as your protest gets stuck under the lump that jumps into your throat, and you freeze in fear as one of Johnny's big hands slides over your back with easy naturalness. And as his warm fingers begin to draw slow, soothing circles on your back, as if he really wants to drive away your growing sickness with his gentle touch, but you go as still as a statue, completely unmoving. You're unable to turn away from the man, whose gaze is fixed on you with such intense attention, as if someone had hypnotized him. But you already know better than that. You see those ice-blue eyes gliding across your face, and you know that he finds his joy in the frightened curve of your eyebrows, the motionless panic of your eyes, and the quivering line of your lips, like a hungry hyena feeding on terror. And as, during his seemingly innocent adventure, one of his fingers almost imperceptibly slips under the clasp of your bra, crumpling the soft material of your t-shirt, that hungry grin appears on his mouth, with which a beast flashes its teeth at its victim. And the scene in the kitchen takes shape in your brain so quickly that you're unable to hold back the frightened whimper that erupts from you.

"There's no need for that... I'd rather rest." You try to oppose meekly, carefully choosing each of your terrified words, and when you pull back from the man's suffocating proximity, his palm spreading over your back prevents you, holding you back as easily as if it wouldn't be more to him then just a minor inconvenience. And you’re probably right, because even though you can see the cords of the sculpted muscles dancing on his arm from the corner of your eye, his whole body still remains in your personal space with unmovable carelessness.

"Dinnae be silly!" Johnny silences your protest, and from the curve of the smile on his lips, the tentacles of anxiety growing inside you cling to every single cell of yours. Because it suddenly becomes painfully clear that you've fallen into a trap and you don't even have a chance to flee. "I'll help ye... ye'll let me, won't ye?" He inquires, but there is something very certain about his question, as if he asked it just for the sake of fun, because he already knows the answer anyway. And why wouldn't he act like that? He slyly lured you into his arms, and now it's time for him to enjoy the fact that you’re exactly where he wanted you all along.

And although your brain is feverishly working on excuses that you can use to escape, like a frightened little rabbit running from wolves, the man gets to work much sooner. His wandering hand on your back crawls up your spine with the deadly slowness of a snake, and as his fingers dance along each small bump, you instinctively get a chill from the condescending tenderness that mixes with his touch. And you feel how the tiny little hairs stand up in the wake of his fingertips, and fear spreads through all your limbs, as if a paralyzing poison had been injected into you. And if resistance had even crossed your mind, then all your stray thoughts disappear immediately, because as soon as he clamps his hand on the back of your neck to lock around it, you freeze as terrified as if you had turned to stone.

You see the cheerful sparks in his eyes as he recognizes how obedient he has made you become, and you helplessly let his free hand, which has been resting on the table until now, come to play on the feeble stage of your body. And although you’re unable to take your eyes off his face, you catch in your periphery as he touches your knee almost teasingly, and you can't suppress the trembling that moves inside of you as his fingers begin to slither toward your thigh. You can feel the heat emanating from him even through the material of your pants, and you swear that the imprint of his palm almost burns into you as he stops to grip the soft flesh.

And like a wild animal about to feast, he flashes all his teeth with the grin that moves to his face, and as he rests his forehead on the crook of your neck, the treacherous warmth in your stomach rises in addition to fear when, following the hoarse laughter that rises from his throat, as his hot breath fans over the sensitive skin.

You turn your eyes to your surroundings in desperation, but all hope is gone when you see the expression on your companions' faces. Because the mouths of both girls are frozen in languid smiles, and they're watching the obscene moment unfolding in front of them as if it were the most natural thing in the world that someone climbs on you in the middle of a birthday dinner. Like they're watching the finale of a romantic movie, not Johnny slowly eating you alive like a starved dog. But it makes you even more upset when you glance at Simon as a result of a thoughtless reflex, because you immediately regret that you dared to look at him at all. The man continues to rest in his chair with undisturbed calm, and as he carelessly throws his hand on the back of the chair and tilts his head to the side, he follows the wet path of Johnny's mouth as his lips travel to the pulsing veins on your neck with such morbid interest, as if it were nothing more to him then some light fun. And you realize with alarm that you can't hope for help, because the game is more than happy to let this whole horrible situation continue, even if it goes against its own rules...

And when you feel the blunt edge of one of Johnny's canines drawing his mark into your skin with almost mocking fondness, that something that has so far locked your body in a paralyzed shackle snap. Because now you know for sure that nothing will happen the same as before, and your only chance to survive is to disappear from here right now. An unknown strength of determination moves into you, and you tear yourself out of his arms so unexpectedly that even he flinches back in surprise for a moment as you spring up from your chair.

"That will be enough! I better rest." You break the stunned silence, and although it's impossible not to hear the fear hidden in your voice, the decisiveness grows much stronger. And despite the fact that you feel that this small rebellion is already disturbing the apparent calm of the game, you don't care. You have to escape, because if you don't get out of their sight, your hours are numbered. And you can no longer allow yourself to die irresponsibly, no matter what lies ahead.

But just as you would take advantage of Johnny's surprise to free yourself from the prison of his thick arms, someone who has been watching this madness as a silent spectator until now finally joins the events. Simon leans forward in his chair with nerve-wracking slowness to look up at you with his elbows on the table, and that's enough for the sinister spasms of panic to close around your stomach in a violent embrace. Because you see the light that dances in those dark eyes... And they tell you that you made a big mistake, and he'll punish you for it with the greatest pleasure. He warned you, didn't he?

"Sit down." The man motions his head towards your chair, and his statement sounds much more like an instruction than a request. You'd be foolish to think he's only making suggestions when you see how menacingly his hoodie stretches over his broad shoulders as he hunches over the festive table. "The party's about to start." He adds, and you don't like the amusement in his tone at all. Like he’s already amused by something, which you have no idea of yet.

"I don't want to." You squeeze it out of yourself, and although you try to put confidence on your face, it doesn't escape the masked man's attention as you force down the stomach acid pushing up into your dry throat with a frightened little swallow. Because you can see his mouth open under the dark textile covering his face, as he follows this small movement, and from the play of the light of the fire, it looks like he's grinning...

But before you can even decipher what kind of storm might be brewing, you're distracted by something completely different. And as you feel Johnny's hot breath penetrating the thin fabric of the t-shirt covering your belly, you turn back to him in fear, but it's too late. You were too irresponsible, and you lost sight of the monster, in whose claws you have been writhing on the fading edge of safety. And now, as his big hands find the round curve of your hips and his fingers playfully grip it, you already know that the fragile chance of your escape is drifting further and further away from you. You're not deceived by the innocence with which the man settles his chin on your stomach, nor by the way those beautiful sky-blue eyes stare up at you, because you feel the certainty with which he hides the escape route with the coverage of his strong body.

"And then what will happen to them?" Johnny asks, and the worry that enters his voice hits you unprepared, and the confusion instinctively takes over your features, as you take in the way the line of his troubled eyebrows meet. And from this tiny little move, his concern seems quite genuine, and it only pushes your mind even deeper into your ever-increasing shock. What the hell is he talking about?

"With whom?" The cautious question breaks out of you, because your brain, which is buzzing with stress, is unable to understand who he could be aiming at. But you don't have to wait long for him to clarify and dispel the doubts from your mind, because as his head finds a comfortable resting place on your belly, as he turns back to the table, smoothing his face against you, you immediately understand who you have forgotten about until now.

"With your friends." He answers easily, removing all the care from his tone, which he has smuggled into it so masterfully so far. There is something stomach-churningly intimate about the way he nuzzles your navel with his nose, and the way he almost burrows into the warmth of your body, which makes every cell of you instinctively scream for help. And as his arms close around you in a slow but deadly sure embrace, even though you don't fully see the horrible expression he's wearing because he's hiding in your clothes, your eyes find his reflection in one of the elegant glasses. And on the delicate surface of the glass, the corrupted, bloodthirsty smile that spreads across his lips is distorted almost like a nightmare.

"What are you talking about?" You hesitate, scared, and your voice comes out of your mouth like a pitiful whisper that it seems quite distant even to your ears. And you're unable to tear your gaze away from the glass, because you see the man's crooked smile widen further and become a twisted snarl on the glass, which suddenly brings back all the memories of when you were on the other side of that grin. With this exact expression, he plunged a knife into your beating heart and watched as the light of life faded from your eyes. And this makes you realize that, even though you waited for a soothing play, the time for bloodshed has long come.

"Dessert is comin' now." Simon joins in, and this simple little sentence sounds deceptively harmless from his mouth. But as he turns to your companions opposite him, who have been sitting in their seats in a happy stupor until now, you realize that you won't be the target now. However, this doesn't calm you down one bit. "Pam." He almost snaps at the girl, in a tone that sounds like he's asking a trained dog to show off the latest trick it's learned. And you're horrified to learn that the analogy couldn't be more accurate, because Pam shoots up with such enthusiastic joy, as if her owner had really dangled a reward in front of her nose.

"Oh, right away!" She gushes cheerfully, and for a split second, you can't understand why she reaches for the huge knife resting next to the cake so suddenly because of the fear sitting on your brain. You just watch, paralyzed, as she places her left hand on the table, and as the warm light glints on the cold metal of the blade, something quite uncomfortable grips your insides. And when the girl turns to you and her gaze sinks into yours, you see nothing but the bottomless emptiness shining in those bright eyes, as if all the life that the game had so graciously instilled in her had disappeared.

But even though she looks like a lifeless puppet, the sound of the knife piercing through bone is very real, as the next moment she cuts off her index finger with one simple and swift movement. The sick crack almost echoes in your ears, as if someone has just started slicing a deliciously fresh carrot, but as blood gushes out of the wound in rich drops and paints the snowy white of the tablecloth crimson, you know that your eyes are not fooled.

"What…. what the hell..." You stutter, and you feel your brain getting short-circuited by the sight. Because Pam just pulls out the knife buried in the wood of the table with unflinching glee, so as if nothing had happened, she raises it again and strikes the next finger with it. Moved by the force of the attack, the severed digit rolls away, plowing a trail of blood in its wake, drawing a grotesque painting among the multitude of bowls resting on the table. This awakes the pulsing nausea in you again, and you clasp your palm over your mouth to try to hold back the rest of your dinner, which starts gnawing up your throat. However, Pam doesn't even seem to perceive the outside world, the wide smile on her face stretches into a grotesque grin, and her teeth are pressed together with such force that you can almost hear them crack.

"Why dinnae ye sit down, hmm?" Johnny's voice breaks through your shock, and you startledly tear your eyes away from the horrible serenity on Pam's face to turn to the man again, because suddenly even this seems like a better idea. But as he glances up at you from under his dark eyelashes, and something quite predatory flashes in his eyes, you know that the dinner slowly soaking in blood would have been a more soothing sight. "If yer gonnae be the dessert, then she can stop..." He offers, and your stomach turns from the sugary kindness that sits in his words.

And when his arms holding you in check slowly let go of their hold, you'd think you finally can catch your breath for a moment, but much sooner the air gets stuck in your lungs, as his fingers grasp your thighs with almost painful force, and you can feel their marks soak into your skin like fresh purple bruises. His face is pressed against your lap, and his tongue sticks out of his mouth to draw a wet path along the small seam running in the middle of your pants, and you can feel the heat emanating from him even through the rough material of your jeans, then you would try to back away in alarm, but you don't get far. His grip locks you in place much more firmly, and the treacherous tingle that awakens in your frozen body pushes you towards dizziness when he finally finds that tiny sensitive bud through the fabric, which makes you tremble and grip his broad shoulders in terror. And a deep, almost animalistic growl erupts from Johnny's throat when he catches this instinctive little movement.

Another tears you out of the paralysis towards which you drift more and more surely, and as Pam, laughing joyfully, sweeps the stump of her ring finger away in the puddle of blood on the tablecloth, you're already glad that Johnny is so willing to let you cling to him. When you catch Simon out of the corner of your eye, you're unable to stop yourself and almost automatically direct your gaze to him. And you would swear that you have never seen a more beautiful man, because the lustful look with which his dark eyes fixate on you, while one hand caresses his stomach lazily, is not entirely of this world. You follow almost in a daze as his fingers dance leisurely along the bulging hardness of his pants, and only another snap brings you back to the present before you allow yourself to be lured into the trap they want to drag you into in such a vile way.

No matter the two men's angelic faces, no matter the sinful power emanating from them, it penetrates your paralyzed consciousness too strongly, as the sea of blood spreading across the table slowly reaches you and begins to drum in heavy drops on the floorboards. Because only monsters are capable of such horror, and it awakens the desire to escape in you enough that your heart rate, which is accelerating in dread, finally pumps out the adrenaline in your body so you can act.

You reach for your glass resting on the table so unexpectedly that you manage to surprise Johnny when you smash it on his head. And you know that it won't do him any serious damage, but the pain lasts just long enough for him to release you in the middle of a tortured hiss, and you can take advantage of this to get out of his arms so nimbly that by the time he comes to his senses, you're a safe distance away. No matter how much a faint sense of guilt awakens in you, when you turn your back on everything and sprint towards the stairs, for leaving your companions at the mercy of the beasts, the survival instinct raging inside you drives this weakness to the hidden corner of your skull much sooner. Because these bastards were trying to use this, and they wanted to take advantage of this to catch you...

Even through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you can hear the laughter that comes from Johnny when you reach the top floor, and you know exactly what that voice promises you. There's nothing in it but cruel amusement, and that just helps enough to speed up your steps towards your room. And as soon as the small abode finally envelopes you, you slam the door behind you with such force that its loud bang almost shakes the house. But for once, you don't care if you make noise, because the chase has already started, and there's no point in being subtle.

You lock the door with trembling hands, but you know that you won't be able to keep them out for long, because you've experienced Johnny's power enough times. That's why you rush to the closet resting next to the wall with lightning speed, and you push against it clenching your teeth, because it might delay them for a minute longer. The furniture sways with a creak, as it slowly obeys the violent urging, and as you shove it with your shoulder again and again with angry desperation, it finally gives in and falls in front of the door with an loud crash, spilling all its contents to the floor. And although a sharp ache shoots through your arm as you step back to examine your makeshift barricade, all pain fades when you hear heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs in the sudden silence. They're coming after you.

And you immediately search for a new way out, and as soon as your gaze settles on the open window, you already know what you have to do. Because even though you know that there are enough dangers out there, the uncertain darkness seems friendlier than waiting here to see what kind of retribution you'll receive for interrupting the two men's fun.

And when the doorknob turns for the first time, you're already outside on the narrow roof, and you only take one last look at the door, which is slowly beginning to shake wildly, before you disappear in the cold night.

And only one thought screams in your head: You have to survive the night.

[bi-bard]

I Polish Up Real Nice - Kelly Severide Imagine (Chicago Fire)

Title: I Polish Up Real Nice

Pairing: Kelly Severide X Reader

Based On: Bejeweled

Word Count: 1,479 words

Warning(s): mention of unhealthy relationship

Summary: After Kelly messes up what he and (Y/n) had, he sees (Y/n) seemingly thrive on their own.

Author's Note: This is such a good song.

Also, I feel like I am so mean to Kelly and I'm sorry. He just fits a lot of these kinds of stories. I'll write something cute for him soon, I promise.

MIDNIGHTS - TAYLOR SWIFT WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

My first memory of that night was getting pulled into a hug as soon as I walked into the bar.

It was Sylvie, who had been texting me every time she went out to join them.

I hugged her back, chuckling a bit at her excitement.

I had been ignoring her.

I had been ignoring most people outside of work.

It was a natural part of the last few weeks I had gone through.

"I missed you," she mumbled into my ear before stepping back. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," I replied, looking down at myself for a moment.

It had been a while since I had worn the outfit that I wore that night. I liked it. It made me feel confident and happy. It was a feeling that I deserved... even though I had to actively work to convince myself of that fact.

"I'm sorry for not joining you sooner," I explained.

"No, no, it's fine," she promised. "I was just getting worried about you."

I hugged her again before letting her drag me to the bar.

I personally believe that we all deserve a Sylvie. The golden retriever that is incredibly protective and supportive. We all deserved that love and support from someone. It would suit us all well if we all took on that role for another person.

I hopped up on the bar stool.

It was a good night... for the most part.

I got to see plenty of people that I hadn't seen in a long time. It was nice to be back with them all. I had spent so much time running from work to home and then back to work that I had lost sight of the joy of being connected to my friends during times that weren't emergencies.

There was a lull in the conversation.

It was met with someone placing themself in the seat on the other side of me. Sylvie grinned at me before standing up and walking to one of the tables. I turned around and saw Jay Halstead sitting next to me.

I didn't know him super well. We had mostly seen each other in passing. He'd be at the E.D with a victim or suspect or just to talk to his brother while I was going about my work. The environment was usually too fast to give me time to stop and make small talk with him.

But now, I had the time and will to make that effort.

"Hey," I said. "Nice to see you, Jay."

"You too," he replied. "It's strange to not see you running around from room to room."

I chuckled. "Yeah... been a long time since I went out."

"I hope I don't make you regret the choice."

"I doubt it," I shrugged. "May make it worth the time."

He chuckled this time.

The conversation was nice. Natural. It had been a long time since I had so naturally fallen into a conversation with someone that I hadn't known for an extended period of time.

And then, I just felt uncomfortable.

Something washed over me like a wave.

There's this feeling when you're being stared at. It's almost like a tickle. Something just felt off, even if you couldn't see it.

I turned my head, pretending to scratch my eye as I looked over.

I managed to catch Kelly's eyes on me as I did so.

I almost groaned.

Kelly and I had a history.

He was the reason that I hadn't wanted to go out. I didn't want to see him again. I didn't want to deal with him.

Our relationship was messy. Messy and private.

I didn't mind a private relationship. I did mind Kelly's definition of a private relationship. When I pushed for more, he made me feel guilty for trying. It was all just... too much.

I felt like a secret.

He was free to talk to and flirt with whomever he wanted to. However, if he ever thought I did the same, he'd find some way to make me feel guilty.

I wanted to believe none of it was intentional. That he just didn't know better. But that doesn't make it better. That didn't mean I had to sit there in it.

So, I didn't.

I called the whole thing off.

Adjusting back to being myself was rough. I hadn't even realized how much I had changed. That's what I was trying to do by focusing on work and then going straight home. I was trying to go back to who I was before.

But here he was, already making me feel like my confidence for the night shouldn't be on display for everyone else. Just him.

I turned back to Jay a moment after I looked away.

I must've tensed a little too much. He noticed something.

"You okay," he asked. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused by the question. "You just seem uneasy."

"I'm fine," I waved it off. "Please, keep telling your story. Sorry."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I promised.

He grinned at me and nodded. He found his way back to the story had been telling me. Something about his brother. I made a note to make fun of Will at work later using the information I was being given.

We had been talking for another few minutes before I felt a hand on my upper arm.

I looked over to see Kelly right next to me.

"Can we talk," he asked like I wasn't in the middle of a conversation.

I looked over at Jay for a moment. "Just a minute. I'll be right back, I promise."

Jay nodded. "I'll be here."

I grinned at him.

I stood up and followed Kelly outside. I knew that I needed to handle this now. Firm line in the sand. I needed to put up a boundary... which was nerve-wracking but necessary.

"What do you want," I asked.

"What's going on there?" he replied.

"I'm having a conversation with a person at a bar," I shrugged. "Why do you care?"

"Because I care about you."

"I'm sure," I nodded. "But good news, you and I aren't a thing anymore, meaning that you don't have to supervise my conversations. I'm an adult, Kelly."

He sighed, looking down.

"I... I don't want you to be involved in my life, Kelly. I'm sorry but I don't. You may not realize it completely, but I... I wasn't happy with you. Not the way we were. So, we're done. I would appreciate it if you would try to maintain your distance outside of work-related circumstances."

"What are you talking about?"

There it was.

That fear that he truly was unaware of what he had been doing. I thought he would have had some kind of wake-up call. I was wrong.

"I tried everything just to get you to see me as more than... whatever you thought I was," I explained. "I... I wasted so much time giving all of myself just for you to dismiss me in the morning after you got your fix."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, you're being a bit dramatic-"

"Gifts and date plans and birthdays and new clothes to impress and... let's face it, we had different intentions when it came to this relationship, Kelly," I shrugged at him. "I'm not gonna stay in a relationship where the effort I put in isn't appreciated or reciprocated."

"So, what?" he said. "You're just gonna go hook up with Jay? A couple of weeks is what it took for you to be ready to jump into bed with someone?"

"I was gonna be mature about this," I muttered. I took a deep breath and offered him a sickeningly sweet smile. "Some of us can be friendly without the intention of getting into someone's pants. I know that's a new concept for you."

"He doesn't see it that way."

"And I can handle that," I nodded. "Be sure he takes me to dinner first."

Kelly's jaw just clenched.

"Have a good night, Kelly," I waved before walking back inside.

Jay was still sitting at the bar, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the side of his glass.

"Hey, sorry about that," I said as I sat next to him again.

"Everything okay," he asked.

"Yeah," I nodded. "All taken care of."

Jay just nodded.

"You were telling me a story," I motioned for him to keep talking, wanting to get back into the conversation.

"Right, yeah..."

If Kelly came into the bar after that, I didn't see him.

I felt like a weight rolled off my shoulders as I had walked back inside that night. I felt more freedom. It was easier to breathe and smile and talk without focusing on every piece of my relationship with Kelly. I only had to focus on myself.

And I have to say... focusing on myself felt really, really good.

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

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[not-so-lost-after-all]

Something Halloween-y about ascended Astarion meeting the ghosts of his past. Gosh, I tried to keep it less angsty, I swear.

...

He burned the palace down, that huge bloody reminder of his guilt, humiliation and stolen future. It felt glorious and he laughed. Of course, Anya was long since gone by that time, that soft-hearted fool. Last time he saw her she was giving hugs to their so called friends at the inn but she only had one long wide eyed look for him. What more was there to say anyway? But Astarion didn’t need her blood or her body to feel warm, not anymore. He chuckled and it sounded ugly even to him.

…

He knew it took her years to find someone else and it happened to be some half-elven woman, the same as Anya. They called her Constance. Pretty little thing, he admited when the spawn broght her to him. This girl was no fool. The muscles in her face tensed when looking at him. Her eyes like those of trapped animal. So Anya told her about him, she regognized him – it filled him with some perverted joy.

Constance only pleaded with him to simply kill her, not with anger but with soft voice. He searched his heart to decide how this is going to go. That emotion was like jolt through his chest, stronger than anything in years. Rage. Anya loved him, took that away like he was rotten and gave that so easily to this… nobody… and this Constance dared to ask for mercy.

Oh, she screamed at first. By the time he was finished with her, the bed was soaked with blood and she was lying there pale and with thousand yards stare, with just occasional twich in her hands. „Don’t worry. I won’t even make you beg.“ He remembered how in different life, so long ago that it wasn’t even true anymore, he begged to be healed. Only later he realized how foolish it was – he got better and then for two centuries he always, always did heal. He quickly pushed that thought away…

Of course Anya came to rescue her „true love“ like the idiotic white knight she was, she dared to return to the city. It was rather warm cloudy day and it was drizzling when she came to the gate of his palace, demanding to speak to him. He ordered Constance to go kill her and decided to watch it from the window because that sight will certainly be priceless.

He didn’t hear what they were saying but Constance was no fighter so they only exchanged a few blows with Anya constantly dodging. After finally running dagger through the heart of his new spawn, Anya looked at him. He could swear there were tears in her eyes before she turned to leave. He sipped on that pain, another hollow victory but victory nonetheless.

…

He could hardly believe what the spawns told him. After half a decade, Anya was back again. She was visiting his grave on one crispy, golden autumn day. He wondered how she figured that out but it must have been the elven woman who was keeping her company. He wondered… but surely that woman was not what he thought.

The next year on the same day, he decided to go to the cemetery himself. And there she came, an elven woman with blue eyes and silver hair much like his own. He tried to connect the face with memories of his mortal life but there was almost nothing but perhaps…

„Hello, sister,“ he said joyfully behind her back. He wished he could feel that for real but at least he learned to pretend. He just needed to know.

There was an entire journey on the silver-haired woman’s face when she saw him. Horror, disbelief, then sorrow. He guessed Anya didn’t bother to mention to her that he’s not actually lying in that grave.

The woman frowned, mumbled his name and cautiously reached to touch his cheek to find out if this is even real.

„Gods, what have you done?“ she spoke softly.

Astarion caught her hand. „Anything I had to survive,“ he hissed. Then he spoke more warmly because he didn’t want scare her, not her. The bloody games he played with the victims they brought him, the orgies he participated in to make himself feel alive, the spawns and servants who pretended to love him – it all had meaning (it all had to have meaning) but someone who actually used to care for him? „Stay for a while, please.“ For a moment he forgot how to act proud.

But she only shook her head. „You would doom us all, I’m sure.“

She didn’t return the next year. But he guessed he at least knows his birthday now.

…

It took another decade for him to hear about Anya. This time she visited the cemetery on that autumn day with her family, Gale and their little son and daughter. He watched them from afar and barely heard how they both recounting their big adventure to the children. Somehow it didn’t suprise him that Anya lied that their friendly rogue died to the children too. That hurts, darling, he thought.

It was almost funny that that insufferable wizard won in the end. For the first time, Astarion thought about what would have happened had he made different choice because that concept was so foreign now. Pathetic spawn like the rest of them, for whatever time he would have had. Always scared, hungry and in the shadows. She would have been the only thing left and she would be free to leave anytime. But would that be that hopeless? Gale´s always been kind, surely he would be willing to help? Or Halsin would.

For a moment he was considering murdering them, the kids included. But they remembered him after all these years. Astarion would almost feel touched if such thing was possible.

He learned that Gale died in fire a few years later. He was the first of them to go.

…

It was ironic that the palace was on fire, just like Cazador´s was once upon a time. There were corpses of his spawns and those of mortals around. His children were dead, his servants… but… he killed them all, didn´t he? Yes, but the men of duke Ravengard actually took their lives.

There was poisoned arrow burried in his shoulder and whatever that poison was, it was already making his hand black and his mind hazy.

Anya was lying on the floor next to him, bleeding. Was it him who gave her that wound on her chest? He didn´t remember. She probably deserved it for siding with Wyll though.

She touched the palm of his hand. „Just get up if you want to leave with me,“ she insisted. Anya was looking at him with pleading eyes, like it ever made a difference with him. She got on her knees and shook his shoulder. „Get up!“

„Alright, alright.“ He won´t die like this, it´ll only be on his terms.

Before they left, he kissed he like he wanted to devour her.

[catflowerqueen]

Today’s episode just proves that Moon really is a good big brother and his first instinct is to accept new prospective siblings with open arms (because remember, he did try to help Eclipse at first before Eclipse turned him down flat—and Bloodmoon didn’t express an interest either way, but they were still met with tons of empathy, even if it wasn’t expressed to them directly). He also has tons of empathy, and it is telling that the Computer was the one who shot down KC’s first suggestion of just getting rid of him by saying Moon would never allow it, being proved right by Moon confirming as much with no hesitation literally seconds later. But yet again I worry about his general mental state and self-worth, because while it is good that he was taking responsibility for his actions and attitude toward Sun in the early days, I do think he was still shouldering a bit too much of the blame. Though I do give him credit that he did, actually, acknowledge KC as a contributing factor to that.

And I think it is interesting that KC prefaced his desire for Moon to live with saying “just let me do this for you.” I’m not sure if he did that intentionally to mimic what Sun was saying before going off on his hunt for Eclipse, but either way I think it’s going to have a big impact on Moon one way or another. On the one hand it might just further cement his stubborn self-sacrificing nature and determination for KC to live, since what Sun ended up doing right after saying those words resulted in the absolute fiasco the two of them have found themselves in currently. On the other hand, it might sway him to actually sit down and listen more to KC’s reasonings and arguments, since Sun just proved that desperate people really do actually do desperate things, and KC and Moon are currently in a more desperate and delicate situation than Sun was.

Speaking of Sun, Moon’s absolute joy at hearing Sun had come back to the daycare was really sweet. He just sounded so relieved his brother was safe. And he didn’t even care that Sun accidentally put him and KC in this dangerous position.

I do hope the two of them can survive, though. A terrible father KC might be, but he does deserve the chance to live and continue growing. And Moon deserves the chance to be able to relax and enjoy autonomy without having to worry about sharing or having someone unexpectedly take over.

…Not to mention that he deserves to have friends who actually like him and spending time with him and acknowledging him, and not someone just pretending to be him. It’s fine if they’re friends with KC and Lunar as well, but Moon shouldn’t have to take a backseat to all of that by default.

Honestly, at this point it is probably best if he just gets a new set of friends altogether, because it is abundantly clear that outside of Monty (and sort of kind of Golden Freddy? He’s more of a mentor, so I don’t think he really counts in the same way) the others don’t really know him or care about him more deeply than being on friendly coworker terms. And, like—Sun and Moon have been dealing with literal world-ending threats! Even Vanny was nervous about touching any of their shenanigans in the course of her current evil schemes. And the others don’t seem to even notice, let alone care. And yet Moon is continually offering them free therapy!

Gregory gets a pass since he is a literal child, and so does Roxanne—at least to an extent—given that she was one of Eclipse’s victims. But—from a completely story-driven point of view, and ignoring the limitations imposed by real world schedules and such—it is getting ridiculous at this point just how out of the loop everyone is on Sun and Moon’s life.

Anyways… that aside, I will be interested to see what ultimately happens with Moon and KC’s situation. But either way, at least they aren’t at odds anymore and can actually understand and sympathize with each other, and there won’t be hard feelings on either of their ends no matter the outcome. Maybe lots of regrets if one of them does have to sacrifice themselves, but at least that will show that both of them did care about each other.

[auggielovesreading]

Can we just talk about the joy that this theory brings me

Ya know the theory that Gregory (security breach) is Evan Afton, Glamrock Freddy is Micheal Afton and Vanessa (Vanny) is Elizibeth Afton? I mean, I LOVE IT. And sure, I’m not a fan of security breach as a part of the franchise. I have a full post about that from recently if you wanna check that out, but this theory makes me appreciate the game A LOT more than I did before. Like, for example, let’s look at this ending of security breach:

When you successfully save Vanessa, you’re shown this drawing of her, Gregory and Funtime Freddy eating icecream on the hill together. A family torn apart by tragedy and circumstance reunited to finally be kids together. It’s the perfect ending. Not to mention the resemblance between the hill in this drawing and the cemetery hill:

The franchise has always followed this family; the Aftons. The dad, William Afton, being the killer. The purple guy. The man responsible for many children’s deaths and a series of horrible chain restaurants all linked back to disaster and torment. The mother fallen victim of suicide if you are to collect and listen to the therapy CD’s in security breach (given that the Vanny = Elizabeth theory is correct) and then rebuilt using remnant into Ballora. The sister, Elizabeth, following her curiosity of her fathers newest animatronic right into her death, going on to possess the animatronic “baby”, then presumably being rebuilt using robotic parts and such (which is expanded upon in other stories in the novel. This is not new to the lore), and then finally the two sons, Evan having his frontal lobe bitten off by one of the animatronics after a bad prank his brother pulled, resulting in his death (and possible rebuilding), and Micheal, the last living Afton, who we play as in all the games. He follows his fathers past desperately trying to right the wrongs that have been left behind.

Aka: the story has LAYERS. The whole thing is about, not just William, but the siblings. They constantly try to reconnect with eachother. Everytime Golden Freddy (who is possessed by both Evan and a ghost ‘Cassidy’) flashes the screen, we’re left with the message “It’s me”, which was first interpreted as some scary horror game bullshit is now understood as a helpless younger brother calling out to his older brother, “It’s me in here!” So heartbreaking ngl.

Now, before I get hate, let me explain why I believe each of the siblings ARE Vanny, Freddy and Gregory.

Evan = Gregory:

Now, this one is often hated on, but I think the evidence is easy to follow. We all remember the signature line that drove all us theorists CRAZY! “I will put you back together.” Presumably said by Evans toy Freddy, but written in a slightly different font colour than his normal text. It could be a mistake, but let’s not forget that Scott doesn’t make mistakes. The deeper into the lore we got, the more literal that line felt. Story after story in the books talking about a distraught child’s death followed by a grieving parent rebuilding them via robotics. Now let’s remember that the talking Freddy doll was made by William, Evans dad, to spy on him and keep him inside. So when the doll says “I will put you back together” that’s coming straight from the mouth of stabby stab himself, purple guy. “You are broken,” he says, and as any loving dad would, he will put him BACK. TOGETHER.

Now let’s read this line from security breach,

spoken TO GREGORY from Freddy. What odd wording.. it almost reminds me….

An obvious nod that that NOTORIOUS LINE! It’s also apparent that in the original script, Freddy said “You’re bleeding, you are hurt.” But they changed it to “you are broken” because it fit the story more. Could be a mistake right? SCOTT. DOESN’T. MAKE. MISTAKES.

Now, let’s get to the design.. because this one is clear as day. Evan is only shown in 8-bit form with brown hair, a strand falling between his eyes, two stripes on his shirt and shorts. Gregory is introduced with brown hair, a strand fallen between his eyes, two stripes on his shirt and shorts. How much thicker can they lay it on? He was rebuilt just like Charlie, (Henry’s daughter/ the puppet.) it would also explain the bad ending of security breach where Greg escapes and runs into the street where he’s living. Him being homeless is totally understood considering the fact that both his parents are literally dead (except William ig because dear old dad always comes back) and he isn’t even entirely human.

Micheal = Glamrock Freddy

Now, this one I love. Micheal was burned down with all the animitronics and his dad by Henry,

“And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be.” - a speech from Henry to Micheal as he burned down the building.

And the security breach location was built above that burnt building as shown in the ending. We all know ghosts can haunt the animatronics, so who other than Micheal to guide his younger brother to safety. Plus when they enter the basement, Freddy goes mad. This isn’t an exact quote, but he starts saying things like “I know this place, I’ve been here before, I am not me, my friends are down here” etc. “my friends are down here” is telling. He knows these spirits which WOULDNT be the case if he was just an AI. There was also a quote in the OG script for SB that I’m now having trouble resurfacing (MatPat spoke about it) where he said that he remembered Gregory. I just think this theory is really going somewhere. It almost makes up for the shit that security breach added to this fandom, lmfao.

Elizebeth = Vanny

Again, we know about the rebuilding of kids being a constant in this franchise, so we all know this is possible.

Now let’s talk about the CD’s from security breach. If you collect them all and then load them into Michaels secret room in the basement, it plays recordings from therapy sessions between Vanessa and her therapist. They date back to Help Wanted where (if you didn’t know) Vanessa was the tape girl who guides you through the story of Jeremy and the weird shit going on with glitchtrap. There are a few lines that stand out. The therapist talking about her mother’s death which fits right in with the story of Ballora and the plot of the kids and dad. Her therapist also says, “I remember your dad. Bill, right?” Which got me confused for a moment before I remembered that Bill is short for William. Also her resemblance to Elizabeth with the golden hair and green eyes which is enough proof because, idk if I’ve ever mentioned this but, Scott doesn’t make mistakes.

So to put it simply. They’re siblings and it makes Security Breach almost salvageable.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

The big long lore post

This post contains summaries of all of my character lore, and will remain on the pinned post on the blog for easy access!

PLEASE NOTE - THIS WILL HAVE TRIGGERING CONTENT WITHIN IT. CREEPS WITH ABUSE MENTIONS ARE MARKED.

Obvious disclaimer! Some of these are VERY different from their original canon, and that’s the point for me. I understand not everyone likes or wants to follow my lore, but my writing follows this lore.

Putting them under a keep reading because this is so long

Jeff (Mentions of abuse):

The second-born son to a family that didn't want him, born weaker but more intelligent than his older brother, Jeff was physically, verbally, and emotionally abused by his mother his entire life. The only kindness Jeff ever knew was from his older brother Liu, the attributed golden child of the family. Used to being a victim of bullying, his luck took a turn for the worst when he was escorted to an open field, tied up, and lit on fire by the worst of his bullies, only making it out alive due to Jane saving him. On the night that he snapped, he murdered his parents in cold blood before trying to escape, harming his brother in the process. To disguise himself easier and cause a distraction, Jeff in a break of panic and insanity started several house fires as a diversion. Jeff now lives life through a facade, presenting himself as a strong and capable person, hiding the weak, scared version of himself inside.

Liu (Mentions of abuse):

The first-born son to a family that originally treasured him, life started off good for Liu, until Jeff came into the mixture. While Liu will never tell Jeff, and will never shatter his reality, Liu was not as loved and treasured as Jeff thought. Their mother constantly pushed Liu to be the best, better than Jeff, and would beat him and scream at him as well whenever he disappointed her, however, Liu was better at hiding the bruises. Sully developed in his early adolescence as a way for him to cope with the trauma of his mother, Sully taking the brunt of the abuse and Liu trying to save his brother from the same fate. On the night that Jeff attacked him while fleeing, Liu ended up wandering into the woods, and in a state of half-death, ended up in a state of limbo. He ended up stumbling through a hidden area to access the Underworld from the human world, and in his state of limbo transformed into a self-aware zombie. Liu now spends his days trying to reconcile with his sibling.

Jane:

Jane grew up a normal child in a loving household. However, her fate was changed when the Masters family moved in across the street. While Jane had always shown the boys kindness, often helping Jeff in secret, telling off his bullies, and protecting him from the shadows, she felt ultimately betrayed when in his spark of insanity he lit her house on fire in the wake of his path. Jane suffered severe injuries trying to navigate inside to her parents who ultimately ended up dying in the fire. She vowed to seek revenge upon Jeff, but upon learning they both contracted with Slender and were not allowed to fatally harm each other was forced to form a truce with him. She's learning to give him ounces of forgiveness these days and finds hating him to be too exhausting as she tries to move on. They're neither friends nor enemies.

Nina:

Involved with the above three, Nina often followed in her older brother's footsteps and took great joy in terrorizing Jeff, hating him from an early age. She ended up developing a crush on the older brother, Liu, although he never returned her affections due to the age difference and her treatment of his sibling. After learning that Liu still loves Jeff even after the incident, Nina now holds that same hatred for him as well. After Jeff ended up seeking revenge and killing his bullies, he accidentally left Nina alive, and she viewed this as him mocking her and getting back at her for the years of abuse. She is now devoted to trying to kill him. She also has an issue with Jane who no longer has any drive to kill Jeff, viewing Jane as a traitor and an idiot for giving up on her vengeance. She is currently employed under Zalgo and works as one of his highest-ranking workers.

BEN (Mentions of abuse):

An only child born to a happy household, BEN was well-loved until his mother passed away when he was still a child from an illness that had been plaguing him for years. His father turned to alcohol and violence to cope, and while his mother would protect BEN when he was younger, once she passed BEN was forced to endure years of abuse alone, obtaining his fear of water from his father mock drowning him as an abusive punishment. After saving up cash and trying to escape, BEN's father discovered his hiding space and in a fit of rage and betrayal, intentionally drowned BEN in their bathtub. Now a mess of hollowness and fear, BEN drowns (pun I didn’t notice until beta reading) himself in work and games to distract himself from his trauma, trying to prevent himself from attempting to actually drown himself again from the emotional high it had given him. Working as the trusted, intelligent informant under Slender, he does whatever he can to hide his past from others.

Toby (Mentions of abuse):

Born as the second child to an influential CEO who was insanely fixated on having the perfect family, Toby, his sister, and his mother lived in an abusive hellhole for a very long time. He was rapidly punished once he started developing his Tourette's, as his father viewed it as an imperfection, and so all of their punishments would continue growing worse. Strict education and strict rules must be followed, and if you break them, endless suffering follow. Toby, unable to feel the pain of punishment, was forced to watch his sister and mother be tortured, serving as a much more effective punishment for Toby. Mock execution, starvation, isolation, sensory deprivation/assault, anything that would terrify his family, his father would do. After his father accidentally murdered his sister in a punishment gone wrong, Toby snapped and murdered him, escaping and running away while his mother covered for him. His mother still loves him and cares for him today while he recovers from all the abuse in hiding at Slender's mansion.

Tim and Brian:

Friends from a young age, Tim was the quiet loner, and Brian was the anxious boy who couldn't make friends. Brian was drawn to Tim like a moth to a flame, and the two of them were always side by side. They lived perfectly normal and happy lives until Brian got the interesting idea for them to try and be ghost hunters. It started off as an innocent and stupid hobby until they actually ended up stumbling upon truly cursed items, leaving the two of them to become possessed by entities that we now call Masky and Hoodie. The two of them searched everywhere to try and get help but no exorcism could expel the spirits from them. They eventually stumbled upon Slender in the woods near Brian's house, and he took them in, offering assistance with the entities now residing in them.

Kate:

A girl with a penchant for exploration, Kate had a habit of escaping from the free world and spent most of her time in the woods located behind her house. She liked the exploration and would try and visit cursed areas around her town, and one she had discovered online wasn't too far from her, at the very edge of the woods. It was an old shut down mining facility, however, it was shut down for a reason. There was a cursed monster lurking in the depths, and it ended up casting its curse upon her, invading her senses and causing her to leak a dark, wet, ashy substance when in her cursed and transformed state. She ended up being saved by Slender, attracted to the commotion as he keeps tabs on some of the entities residing in the human world. He gave her a place to live in his mansion and helps her cope with the curse residing in her veins. Due to the effect the curse has on her eyes, Kate was even originally unaware of Slender's true appearance. 

Natalie (Mentions of abuse):

A daughter born in a family hoping for only boys. With a misogynistic father looking for a son to pass his business down to, Natalie was the opposite of what he wanted. Their next child, Natalie's younger brother, would go on to be the favored child, while Natalie was forced to behave like a boy and not allowed to own anything remotely feminine, and she was even referred to as "Nathan" instead of Natalie in the house. Natalie and her mother were routinely beaten by their father due to his hatred of their existence. After her younger brother grew close to her, treasuring Natalie as his older sister, this made her father even angrier and the abuse ended up escalating. As Natalie grew older, she tried harder and harder to become more feminine, and her father in a fit of rage started to sexually assault her as it was the only thing women were good for in his mind. Eventually, after dealing with all of this for so long, her younger brother snuck Natalie a knife, giving her the means to murder their father while he covered for her, allowing her to escape. The two are still in touch to this day and have made lots of progress in recovering.

Helen (Mentions of abuse):

The only son born to rich and influential parents who were hoping for a daughter. Helen lived two lives, one as a studious young boy in the public, forced to get the highest possible education, and in private nothing more than a toy for his parents to dress up as a girl, forcing him to act feminine and portray himself as a girl behind closed doors. Helen found escape in art and wished to grow up and pursue it, however, his parents ridiculed him for this, destroying any art supplies they would find and physically abusing, degrading, and humiliating him constantly as punishment. One of Helen's duties behind closed doors would be to dress up as a woman and cook dinner for them every night, and one day after finally snapping he poisoned their dinner, effectively killing them before escaping and running away, discovering Slender a few years later. Helen doesn't remember doing so and will dodge questions about it if asked, but his parent's corpses were discovered heavily mutilated and posed artistically. Helen still retains this habit today, although he always claims he never remembers doing so.

Dr. Smiley:

A completely normal man on the outside, Smiley always had a flair for the more inhumane sides of science on the inside. He liked pushing experiments a bit too far, doing things a little bit too monstrous for what would be considered safe. He lived as a well-respected doctor during the day and a sadistic experimenter at night. He was eventually outed for his crimes and went to escape. He lived on the run for a few years before Slender chose him specifically for his medical knowledge, scouting him as the first official doctor for the mansion residents, so long as he kept his experiments on their targets rather than those that lived within the mansion. 

Sally (Mentions of abuse):

A child that was raised in an orphanage that was actually used as a human trafficking organization. Sally was a frequently used target within the organization, one of the more popular children. Constantly abused and assaulted, Sally never knew peace for the entirety of her life within that hellhole. Eventually, the organization was discovered, and in a last-ditch effort, all of the children within it were murdered and disposed of. Sally went on to wander around in the Underworld as a tormented spirit until Slender found her and took pity on her, giving her a place to finally rest. She still carries her severe hatred and mistrust of men but is making progress in recovering in the safety of the mansion.

Eyeless Jack (Mentions of abuse):

Another child brought up in an orphanage as his parents died in an accident when he was still a child, Jack ended up getting adopted into what he hoped would be a loving family. He was instead taken into a cult that only picked him due to his heterochromatic eyes. Forced to study, become nocturnal, and isolate themselves from each other, the children of the cult had to follow all of the various rules within it. Those that disobeyed rules would serve as human experiments as punishment, and despite being perfectly good, other kids would pin things on Jack so he had to suffer. After reaching a certain age, Jack would also be forced to consume human flesh. They went through all these lengths to prepare a vessel for a demon they wished to summon, and Jack would go on to become that vessel, the vessel for Ambrosa, the demon of scholars. Carved with symbols, branded and mutilated, eyes removed as an offering for the demon, in his final rebellion, rather than having the demon summoned, it fused its own soul with Jack's by accident, turning Jack himself into a demon that slaughtered all remaining humans in the organization and lost his memories in the process. He was eventually discovered and rescued by Slender, taken on as a second doctor. He views himself as a monster, containing feline ears, a tail, claws, teeth, and instincts, tormented by the glimpses of horrid memories he possesses and prefers to live alone.

Laughing Jack (Mentions of abuse):

Designed as a toy for Isaac by the Overworld, Jack was sent to him as a gift. Whoever possesses Jack's box has complete control over him and can command him at their will. This would have served no issue, had Jack not suffered an immediate glitch in his system after being received, becoming self-aware, however, he was unable to speak or move without commands from Isaac. Jack would grow traumatized, being forced to watch as Isaac was abused by his parents and unable to help him, left for years staring ahead and unable to move. Jack began to grow bitter and spiteful towards Isaac, for Isaac could do everything that Jack couldn't, could live however he wanted while Jack had to follow commands, and the more bitter he grew, the duller his once bright colors would become, now dull and washed out. Jack, unaware of the fact that his emotions were leaking into Isaac, ended up influencing Isaac to become as bitter and spiteful as himself. Isaac would begin to use Jack to kill animals, destroy houses, and set them ablaze to torment those he hated. It wasn't until Isaac brought home a girl and tried to assault her, ordering Jack to restrain her so he could that Jack finally snapped and gained control, denying Isaac's demands, although Isaac forced him into his box, and forced him to watch Isaac's crime, taunting him all the while. Isaac made the mistake of calling him back out, and Jack acted on impulse, torturing and murdering him, causing him to fall and truly become demonic, gaining claws and fanged teeth in the change, possessing darker magic. Eventually taken in my Slender, he now harbors a fear of children due to their cruelty and lack of empathy and views himself as a monster.

Jason:

Originally designed as a mechanical life-size toy for a magical toy shop in the Overworld powered by a music box "heart", Jason carried out his days as a caretaker and assistant in said shop. He was beloved by children and soaked up the attention like a sponge, however, envy is a hell of a drug. Eventually, the children would begin paying attention to newer models more than Jason, and he soon became ignored and forgotten. After becoming too self-aware, and too jealous, he suffered a system glitch and mutation. No longer the favored toy and beginning to become possessed by his jealousy, Jason snapped, slaughtering all those in the shop at the time and being cast into the Underworld. He now harbors a severe fear and distrust of people, especially children, and he fears everyone will take advantage of him and abandon him. He's built up a powerful facade for himself in the Underworld and garnered himself high standing, doing whatever he can to manipulate and keep the spotlight on himself so he can keep soaking up the attention.

Candy Pop:

In Candy's original lore, he fused with Night Terrors upon accidentally glancing into the mirror he was trapped in by Candy, but I take a different stance on this in my lore, saying Candy never trapped him in the first place. The other main difference, instead of Candy/Night slaughtering the rest of the Genyrs together, Night had come to slaughter them himself to absorb their souls. After witnessing all of his people having been killed, Candy in a last-ditch effort fused his soul with Night's, trapping them together and forcing them to share a body. This might be subject to fluctuation in the future as I don't have all of his lore completely meshed out, but this is a general idea. 

Hobo Heart:

Hobo's main lore could be followed by the OG for my blog if you wished, although I have one key difference in my own lore. In the original, it was C.C that ended up causing him to break free, but in my lore, it was someone else. Hobo, one night when wandering around, stumbled upon a nice old witch outside of her hut, unaffected by the aura he gave off, she was the first to ever show him kindness. She took him in where he had nowhere else to go and would help him in his tasks while teaching him things like simple spells as well. She was the one that eventually gave him the power to fight for what he truly wanted and to live his life, and upon her passing, he decided to take charge of his own fate, abandoning the tree he had served and choosing a life of his own, left only with the treasured necklace she always wore that she had left him. While traveling in the Underworld, he happened upon Slender's mansion, asking for employment, as the witch had actually informed him of "the tall man in the world of death", the one who would look out for him. Slender was happy to welcome him on as part of the crew.

Puppeteer:

Originally a boy with a normal life, he was cruising along and living the high life. For lore reasons I haven't completely fleshed out yet, he would go on to become haunted by a spirit. It began to slowly drive him insane, and he would do whatever he could to escape the spirit that kept tormenting him, leading him to end up committing suicide, however, that allowed the spirit to mesh into him, causing Puppeteer to become the poltergeist he is today, although no longer the cheerful, happy boy he was, and now the narcissistic and demanding person that the spirit possessing him used to be. While not a full possession, Pup still retains his memories from human life but finds it hard to let down his guard and allow his true self to come out. He ended up accepting a job offer from Slender as he had nothing else to do with his afterlife. 

Slender:

The oldest son of the Mann family, Slender has always had high expectations on his shoulders and was the most educated, forced to follow along in his father's footsteps. In an act of teenage rebellion, Slender decided to instead take after his mother and fulfill his own life in the meantime. He founded his own assassination company as a way to further spite his father, now competing with him for the better company, founding the mansion as a place to take in employees and help them to recover from their trauma, being especially drawn to wandering, lost souls. When the time comes and his mother steps down, he will take after her and become the head grim reaper in the Underworld, in charge of harvesting and guiding souls.

Trender:

The second oldest son in the Mann family, trender was always closest to his mother who works part-time as a model and has an affinity for fashion. He always accompanied her, making many acquaintances early on in life, devoting himself to becoming a fashion designer when he grows up, and he ended up succeeding. He is a renowned stylist, respected in both the Underworld and Overworld for his designs, and he's an extremely sought after designer. 

Offender:

The third born son, and the one that struggles the most. While all of his other brothers always had clear aspirations, praise, and attention placed on them by their parents, Offender often drifted around, unsure of what to do with himself. With a passion for entertaining people, he would go on to found the Underworld's most popular club and bar, although he finds it hard to feel fulfilled with this when his brothers have done so much for. He often puts himself down and wishes he could have done something better with his life.

Splendor:

The final born son, and the most surprising one. Extremely eager, bubbly, and friendly on the outside, Splendor has a dark and sinister side to himself, almost like a split personality (but not quite as it's still "him", it's just triggered by certain reactions), and he does his best to keep it hidden as he hates it and hates how it brings fear to people. Splendor travels the three worlds helping children in need and getting them the care and support that they need. 

Zalgo:

Zalgo was the only son and heir to the king and queen of the Underworld. He was never allowed friends or any source of entertainment and only had studying and work to occupy his time, harshly punished by his parents if he strayed from the path they made for him. He has a deep distrust of others due to the fact that many are eager to take advantage of him due to his status as the current king of the Underworld. He has a side company, an assassination one like Slender's that he uses to occupy himself and more diplomatically wipe out the scum of the Underworld. He has a deep affinity for plants, literature, and magic, and pursues them in his free time.

[skiitter]

Also in my roundabout way I would like to request a Lann ficlet, start with angst but make it happy? or just happy. Or just anything because you are a great writer!!

okay so uh this got away from me but here's 3.8k words of lann pining after the commander and being an idiot in love.

He is not staring. He is restringing his longbow after their latest run in with the remaining demons still lingering in the area, that's it. He is absolutely not staring at his two companions huddled together across the fire. He is not watching with rapt, singular focus at their every interaction, seeking answers in her soft words, his sardonic remarks. The Aasimar gestures rudely with his hands, and she laughs loud, the chorus of it echoing through the empty ramparts. When Daeran dips his head low to whisper in her ear, the skin of her neck flushes and Lann forces himself to look away.

He's pretty sure they're sleeping together. It's hard to know for sure, thanks to his complete lack of experience in interpersonal relationships, not to mention his one and only lover having been someone he'd known since birth. Wenduag was a blunt edge of expectation, and Lann always knew exactly what was happening between them. When it comes to the Commander and Daeran, however, he isn't totally sure.

That unknowing, that gray area of wretched hope, is killing him. Falling for her was not on the agenda, seeing as she'll live for hundreds of years and he's lucky if he's got a decade left. Not to mention that she's (probably) gonna save the world and he's just some Mongrel who's legacy won't extend beyond the small role he's played in the crusade. He's never been a glutton for punishment, what with life underground being horrid enough already, but there is a sweet sting in accepting his unrequited love for her that he can't shake. It drives him, despite it's doomed end, to do whatever he can for her fight. If he cannot give her his heart, he will give her his life.

"You're staring," Seelah whispers, her hulking form crouched next to him as she sharpens her longsword.

"Can you blame me? Looking forlornly into the campfire is just one of my many talents."

Seelah chuckles and jerks her head slightly towards the Commander and Daeran. "Oh you're looking forlornly alright, but it's not at the flames. You should talk to her."

"I do talk to her. I talk to her everyday. Are you saying you don't? Honestly Seelah, she's your commander, you--"

"Fine fine, play coy. I'm just saying Lann, we could die at any minute. Do you really not want her to know how you feel?"

Lann swallows, the ugly reminder of mortality and how the sword strung above him dangles far lower than the Commander's tightening the sinew around his heart. "Sh--she doesn't need any more burdens. The Commander's got enough going on, what with that pesky Worldwound thing." He spares one last glance before turning his body away, enduring the biting cold as the heat of the fire leaves his scaled skin. "She doesn't want to deal with a lovesick Mongrel and really, who could blame her?"

"How could you possibly know what she wants if you don't talk to her?"

"Because it's not her wants I'm concerned with, it's her needs. And she needs me to be good ol' reliable Lann. She needs me to shoot my arrows and kill the baddies. She needs--she needs something she can count on and that something is me."

The Abyss happens all at once and it's a miserable experience for them all. Their time in Drezen made him soft, he thinks, because the camp at the Nexus is horrifically uncomfortable. The ground is somehow colder and harder than any other he's slept on and no amount of fire really chases away the shadows.

They spend a significant amount of time in Alushinyrra, and a significant amount of money staying at the Bad Luck Tavern just to avoid the discomforts of the Nexus. It's on one such expensive stay that a group of frankly moronic thugs try and rob the Commander while she sleeps. Her ever-present and ruthlessly protective Velociraptor dispenses them in quick measure, ripping the throat out of the final victim before Lann even has his bow drawn.

Up until that point they'd opted for three rooms, in groups of two, but they downsize to one after the attack. The Commander's life was hardly in danger but playing with fate isn't something she likes to do, chaotic nature be damned. The tavern owner grumbles but, with a golden incentive, allows them to drag one of the other beds into the room so the sleeping arrangements aren't quite so cramped.

Ember curls up into the Commander's side, her sisterly affection having transformed them from companions to near family. Woljif takes the other bed, offering half of it to Regill. The severe gnome answers him with a severe look and Woljif extends the offer to Lann instead. He glances at Daeran but the Aasimar is already tucking himself into the space between the Commander and the wall. With not a small amount of jealousy, Lann resigns himself to his fate and joins Woljif.

A soft rustling pulls him from a restless slumber some time later and Lann wakes just in time to see the Commander whisper something to Regill, who is stationed at the door, before slipping into the hallway with Daeran in tow. He watches them until they vanish and, as he looks away, makes uncomfortable eye-contact with the gnome. Regill's face is as impassive as always, but Lann feels guilty for some reason, like a kid caught with his hand in the rat cage.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Regill asks him as they head out the next morning. Well, not morning since there is no sun or sky or joy in Alushinyrra.

"Hard to say, this city does tend to be a bit on the rough side," Lann responds.

"The Commander has assured me any physical relationships she has with the party aren't going to be a problem." It's not a question but it's not not a question and Lann looks around to make sure the others aren't paying attention.

"We uh, we aren't in a physical relationship?"

"I know."

"Riiiiiight."

"But you want to be, which is arguably worse. So I'll ask you again, is this going to be a problem?"

It occurs to Lann that he should probably do a slightly better job of keeping his apparently obvious feelings on the Commander to himself. "Uh, no. No, it's not." Regill doesn't seem satisfied but then again, when does he ever? "Is uh, I mean, are the Commander and Daeran--"

"I do not gossip," Regill snarls. "Bother the thief with nonsense like that."

Lann does not, in fact, bother the thief with nonsense like that. Instead, he pushes down the swelling of affection he feels at every interaction with the Commander and focuses on the mission. It goes well enough, all things considered, until Savamelekh shows up and nearly kills him.

The demon's revelations are a bit too much for his overtaxed heart to bear and the subsequent bender doesn't help at all. When the Commander finds him, though, he just babbles on about wanting to prove to her he can be what she wants, what she needs, and that she can trust him. "I want to be somebody you can count on. I don't have anything to offer apart from my bow and my dumb jokes....and my life. And they're all yours, if you want them." He glances away, shame and discomfort crushing him from the inside out. "But I doubt you do, not now that I've let you down."

"....I could never turn my back on someone I care about just like that." She's been talking this whole time but it's these words that register hard and fast. Lann stares at her, and she stares back, and the weight of things unsaid on her face is a blessed curse. He forces a smile, bashful but steady, and pulls away from the conversation. It's too much to think about, especially because hope is not his friend, despite its insistence on hanging around.

Later, back at camp, away from everyone but her sharp-eyed Velociraptor, the Commander comes for him. He's not avoiding her, not that he really could thanks to the nature of their new normal in the Abyss, but he's not not avoiding her either. He's sitting at the edge of the cliff, staring out over the sea of fire and the city of demons. She sits beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and they are quiet for a long time.

"Next time I get drunk and come to pour my heart out to you, I'll jot down notes first," he says lightly, glancing at her. Her face is hard to read, not the open expression she'd given him back at the tavern, but he knows her well enough to know she's bothered by something. "I'm kidding of course. I'd never do that -- I don't do notes, I improvise."

"Why do you do that?"

"Improvisation is just one of my many skills, honed from my illustrious life as a Mongrel hunter. Sometimes, you got out to hunt for some rats and end up fighting a--"

"Lann, stop." He does, if only because her tone is firm. "Why do you always demean what you say with humor?"

"I'm....funny like that?"

She scowls at him and her raptor lets out a soft hiss. He's pretty sure they're connected, somehow, because otherwise that would be just plain freaky. "I love that you're funny, Desna knows we need something lighthearted with Regill around, but sometimes I--" She falters, his rocksteady monument of a Commander, and it scares him. "Sometimes I just want you to tell me how you feel."

His heart races, and hope is such a dangerous, cruel thing. "I did tell you how I felt...I meant what I said, back at the tavern. I...I'd do anything for you." The confession settles between them, demanding to be addressed.

"For me, or for the crusade, for the cause?" She's asking him a different question, he thinks.

"I--"

"Because Lann, I--you are--"

"What about Daeran?" He says it in a rush, because he can't handle whatever it is she's trying to confess.

"What about Daeran?"

"Aren't you--ya know--"

"Lann, would you do anything for me or for the crusade? To whom are you pledging your life too? Is it me? I need to know because I cannot carry on like this."

More shame, some more guilt, all for Lann. Of course his unwanted affections made her uncomfortable, of course he took her caring treatment of him to mean more than it was supposed to. He wants to leave, because he also kind of wants to cry. "Commander..."

"Not commander. Lann, please for this moment can I just be a person to you?"

She's crying, for some reason, and he doesn't know what to do. "You're always a person to me. I--you know that."

"To whom do you pledge your life?"

In the end, he knows what's more important. "The--the crusade." Lann knows that she needs to be able to rely on him without thinking he's reading into her every action, her every word. His wants are second to her needs, just as it should be.

Her face crumples, though, and the twist of her mouth breaks his heart. "Right. Okay. Of course." She stands, dusting her robes off and refuses to look him in the eye. Lann realizes immediately that he's said the wrong thing, despite his efforts to do the exact opposite.

"Commander--"

"Have a good night, Lann. Thank you for….thank you for clearing that up."

Her raptor snarls at him when he stands up to stop her and she is gone.

The next day, she announces they are heading deep into the heart of the Abyss. And, for the first time since he followed her out of the dark and into the sun, she leaves him behind.

Six months. Six long, bloody, dangerous months. He runs point with Greybor, struggling to keep the Commander's hoard of refugees safe, and spends each watch with Solsiel, pointedly not talking about their missing leader.

Several times the idea of her death comes up and he stops fighting against it. He's pretty sure they'd leave but there is no where to go. Groups of demons hunt them for sport and it's a miracle he's able to keep himself in one piece. Nenio is insufferable. Seelah is too positive. He misses Ember, and Wolfji. He misses Regill and his cold practicality. He misses the Commander and the smile she used to shoot him when he'd struck down an enemy in their path.

Eventually, it's just the five of them left. Every other life she'd saved has been systematically eradicated by the horrors of the Abyss. Still, they wait because what else are they supposed to do?

She returns, of course, because she's more myth than woman these days. What was six horrific months in hell for those left behind, was less than two weeks for them. Two weeks. The Commander doesn't cry when she sees the devastation that's been wrought in the wake of her absence. Her left hand trembles, but she stays strong. Just as quickly as they'd come, she shows them the way home.

Drezen is in shambles and it takes another week just to kill the demon forces that have taken their city. In that week, she treats him as warmly as she does Greybor. That is to say, her polite indifference is breaking him.

As things return to normal, and he contends with the loss of his tribe, Lann considers what to do. He's messed up, somehow, and he's spent six months worrying over it. He's pretty sure she wanted him to admit that it was to her he swore his life. He's pretty sure he knows why. A (admittedly short) life spent hunting for things unseen and he completely missed the things she'd tried to say.

He misses her feverishly. She's busy, daily, managing the shambles left of her crusade armies after the Queen had her way with them. The party has yet to leave Drezen since returning and Daeran has yet to leave the Commander's side. Lann feels replaced, usurped, and he cannot take it anymore.

Her door is shut, but there is candlelight spilling out underneath. Before the courage leaves him, he knocks and calls out her name.

"Lann?" She opens the door and he's half expecting to see Daeran, arrogant and naked, sprawled across her bed. Instead it's just her, exhausted and anxious, looking at him with a guarded expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, ya know, just everything." He tries for humorous but it comes out pathetic and they both frown. "Can I--can I come in?"

She steps aside, allowing him entrance. He's never been here, in all his time in Drezen, and while he's not totally sure what he expected, it's still a surprise. Her quarters are small, smaller than the house she'd given him upon their initial taking of the city. The desk is covered in maps and missives, and her gear is in a pile by the door. The raptor has a bed, set up beside her own, and Lann is pretty sure it looks far more comfortable than the Commander's. There is nowhere to sit so they both just stand there, awkward and uncomfortable, as she closes the door.

"What's going on? Have you heard from the clan?"

That particular sting of worry rolls over him and Lann shakes his head to push it away. "No, not yet. All quiet on the Mongrel front."

"I'm sorry, Lann." She reaches out for a moment, as if to comfort him, but stops herself short. "We'll find them, I promise."

"I didn't come here to talk about the clan."

"Okay."

"Boy, is this awkward. Uhm," he clears his throat to buy time. "Do you remember that last conversation we had?"

Her expression becomes an echo of the one she wore that night. "I do."

"I uh, I would like to do it over again."

The Commander narrows her eyes. "Why?"

Lann runs a hand through his hair, and stares at the wall beside her because if he looks at her, he'll fall apart. "I think I messed it up."

"Lann, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I kinda do."

She shakes her head. "It's okay I know that--what you said it's--we're fine."

"You were gone for six months, ya know. Six shitty, ugly months. You've never left me behind before." It's not an accusation but she flinches anyway. "I had a lot of time to think. Not a lot else to do, really. Well, aside from entertaining Nenio and rejecting Camellia's frankly terrifying propositions."

"She asked to sleep with you?" The Commander is suddenly furious and Lann is shameless in how warm her indignation makes him feel.

"Well, not in so many words and really, I'm kind of dense, but sneaking into my bed at night was--"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--what?"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--I don't know what you think sex with a Mongrel is like--"

"You slept together?" Her fury simmers down and turns her face cold.

"No! This isn't about that. I don't want to talk about Camellia. It was only once and--no. She didn't--we--nothing happened."

"You could--"

"Commander, excuse the insubordination here, but please shut up. This isn't easy and I'm losing my nerve." She frowns, but stays silent. "I want to change my answer."

"To what question?"

"To the one you asked me that night. I lied."

"What?" The inflection is too hopeful and Lann forces himself to look at her.

"It's not for the crusade or the cause or the world. It's--it's for you. My life, I mean. I'm pledging it to you. I misread things, I didn't understand what you meant. I--my life, my bow, my dumb jokes, it's yours." He struggles not to fidget, or downplay what he's saying with humor. She's staring at him, and she's crying but this time he knows why. "And my heart. If--if you want it. It's yours."

"Lann," she whispers and closes the gap between them. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his face, and they are trembling. It's a perfect match to his own shaking nerves. "Are you sure?"

He laughs, and it's watery. "It's hardly something precious to me. It's just all I have to give you and--and well really, it's already yours."

"How long?"

"Ugh no, the last thing you need to know is how long I've been pining over you."

"It was the Gargoyle attack for me, the one at the camp." She confesses it so easily, and he's rendered speechless. "When it was you that came to find me and tell me everyone was taken, my very first thought was relief; relief because they didn't take you." She presses her forehead to his own, their noses brushing. "From the moment we left for Colyphyr, I regretted leaving you behind. I could barely focus for the first few days because I was so worried about you. Every day I woke up, expecting to see you, to talk to you, and you weren't there and it was my fault. I was so mad at myself for letting my stupid feelings get in the way but the thought of having you near and knowing you'd never want me that way it--" her voice breaks and he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have realized what you were asking, I--"

"No, I'm sorry," She pulls back to look at him. "I'm so sorry I didn't just come right out and ask you how you felt. I was just scared, scared of rejection and what I would do if you said no."

"I would never--I love you." He reddens from ear to tail and he immediately wants to take it back.

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

"Well, I didn't really want to just come out and say it. I was hoping for a little more romance. Some candles, maybe a rat shaped pastry or two. We could probably get someone to play--"

"I love you, too." She captures his mouth with her own before he can stumble over anymore words and Lann relents happily to her efforts. She kisses him like he's always wanted to kiss her, all passion and tenderness, and disgustingly sincere affection. Their arms wind around one another and she pulls him to her bed.

Lann stops her. "We don't have too, really. I know I'm not exactly easy to look at--"

"Lann. I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention.” She sets him down beside her and once more takes his face in her hands. “Don’t you ever, ever talk about yourself that way again, okay? I love you, all of you, every bit and I want you, in any and every way you’ll let me.” She kissed him again, softly. “We don’t have to rush into anything, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just--just please know that, regardless of what you’ve been told, you’re beautiful and--and I will happily take you to bed every night.”

“Just to bed?” He aims for suggestive and, every bit the archer, he strikes true. “But there are so many other places I wish to be taken.”

“We’ll have a veritable world tour of it, but for now, can I have you here? Because this is all I’ve thought about for months and if I don’t fulfill that fantasy, I may die.”

“Regill would have my head for that.”

“He is possibly the least sexy person you could bring up at this point in time.”

Lann crowds into her, forcing her backwards until he has her pinned beneath him. “Imagine the report I’d have to write: Knight-Commander of the Fifth Crusade dies because local Mongrel fails to fulfill her sexual fantasies.” He kisses her once before moving his attention down the breadth of her jawline, and onto her neck. Her breath hitches, pressing her body up into his. “Good thing that’ll never happen because I’m a terrible writer.”

“Lann,” it’s nearly a whine, only just, but it’s enough to make him shudder, “please.” He’s always been excellent at following orders and there is no reason to stop now. Whatever she needs, he thinks, whatever she asks, he’ll give. It’s a scary thought, but it’s the only one he’s had for it feels like his whole life. Her hands snake across the skin of his chest, pulling at his armor with frantic hands. “Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

He relents, and soon they are but a tangled mess of limbs. It’s nothing like he’s known, but he’s ruined forever now. He’s hers, like he has been since that serendipitous moment beneath the ruins of Kenabres, and to his unbelievable shock and surprise, she is his.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

@moaa @kookieyachi @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[along-came-atsushi]

The search for yourself – An analysis about Tachihara

Several characters in BSD express a wish for home and family. Most of them have either lost their families or were abandoned by them. Especially for those characters, the word ‘family’ expands the definition of being related by blood.

In BSD ‘family’ doesn’t mean people who are related to you, but people who accept you for who you really are and who truly care about you. Some examples would be the relationship between Fukuzawa and Ranpo, or Sigma and how he sees his customers.

Tachihara’s arc deals with the same theme and his search for who he really is.

[Beware: Spoilers for the whole Hunting Dogs Arc!]

His Past:

It’s been shown that Tachihara and his older brother are granted with a similar ability: The ability to create and/or manipulate metal. But Tachihara seemed to be less talented or able to control his ability than his brother, at least in the eyes of his family. When his brother died in the war they were outraged and sad about his death. At the same time, they openly told Tachihara to be the one that should have died in his stead, showing complete disregard for his existence:

Tachihara’s brother thinks positively about his family, given how he talks about them. He knows that they miss him and he himself wishes to return back home. Due to this it’s possible that he doesn’t even notice the difference in his family’s treatment between him and Tachihara, since he never addresses that problem anywhere. Tachihara on the other hand has to feel that no matter who he is and what he does, even ultimately if he’d die, they wouldn’t care for him.

He has been compared to his older brother his whole life and was never accepted as his own person, which leads to him in not understanding who he is and what he should do.

[Side note: I’m not a psychologist, but I read that parents that treat one child as the golden egg (Tachihara’s brother), while treating the other as the black sheep (Tachihara) is a trait found in narcissists. With this they try to have one person who admires them (Tachihara’s brother) and the other who fears them (Tachihara). Considering this and the way Tachihara has been treated by his family, it is highly possible that he is the victim of a narcissistic upbringing. It might be that one family member was a narcissist and with their treatment of Tachihara influenced the other family members to do the same. They joined the narcissist in their behaviour out of fear (acting as enablers), so that they themselves wouldn’t get viewed and treated by the narcissist and others the same way.]

.

Joining the Hunting Dogs:

After his brother’s death Tachihara ran away from his family and decided to live a life on the streets, trying to survive by stealing and doing other criminal activities, where he then was found by the Hunting Dogs and invited to join them:

The Hunting Dogs highest priority is to protect their country and its citizens, no matter what it takes. They have been shown to let people join them when they realize that those people have an intention to protect others, or are willing to self-sacrifice in order to protect something. (e.g. Jouno offering Kunikida to join after he saw that Kunikida wanted to protect the ADA, Fukuchi offering to train Akutagawa after he realized he was fighting for something.)

.

But the problem of the Hunting Dogs’ mentality is that they have a black and white view regarding “justice” and “crime”, or people they perceive as “good” and “evil”. They immediately hunt down the ADA without further investigation on their assertions (that they’re innocent and all was a set-up), even expressing joy about torture and killing, when a person is a “criminal” and therefore “evil” in their eyes.

The only way to get rid of your crime is to join them and in this way being useful to them. This results in people involuntarily joining them, because they have no other way, which has been the case with Tachihara. He was found being guilty, because he stole something from them, and then offered of being freed from his crime, but only if he joins them. Which means that he doesn’t join them on his own accord and is then pressured into their black and white morale.

[Side note: Tecchou seems to be the only one able to look on a more greyish view regarding “good” and “evil” people, as seen when he talks with the café owner and promises to not kill Lucy and the ADA. Fukuchi feels guilty for at least having to kill children in the past.]

.

The Hunting Dogs seem to stick together because they have to, less because they want to. Jouno is annoyed with Tecchou’s behaviour and Tecchou is annoyed by Jouno’s actions. Teruko dares Jouno not to read her heartbeat and with that tries to keep him from getting to know how she truly feels. She also seems to be afraid of Fukuchi for some reason, hence why she butters him up in an extreme and exaggerated way:

Ultimately, Fukuchi their own captain, is the one who plays them all and lies to them the most. They are bound together by their duty and have no real trust in each other.

Tachihara has been shown to feel somewhat uncomfortable when being with the Hunting Dogs and is sometimes weirded out by their behaviours. Even though he is the only one who has no quarrels with his colleagues and gets along with them pretty well, openly expressing concern when Teruko is wounded. But at the same time, he keeps his distance to them and addresses them formally or by their ranks.

While Tachirara talks with Yosano it can be understood that he didn’t join the Hunting Dogs out of his own conviction, but because that way they wouldn’t kill him for his crime. By joining and fighting for them he had a purpose in life and people who needed him because of his ability. He claims to have turned into someone who was “neither my older brother nor his opposite” and that “orders make me who I am.”

.

Infiltrating Port Mafia:

When Tachihara joins the Port Mafia as a spy and works for the Black Lizard, he is met with a different mentality regarding loyalty and justice. As explained above the Hunting Dogs have a black and white view regarding justice and crime, and people they consider to be good or evil. They express joy about killing and torturing, even though they are considered to be “the good guys”. While the Port Mafia is also known to be extremely cruel, they are not considered as “the good guys”. In other words, the Port Mafia are represented as the “villains”, and the Hunting Dogs are represented as the “heroes” in the eyes of the government.

Although it’s been mentioned that you shouldn’t get too close with anyone in the Port Mafia, forming a close bond with others is still possible. Something that differs the Black Lizard from the Hunting Dogs is that they stick together, e.g. when Higuchi saved Akutagawa, despite the fact that she could’ve died doing so alone, which is something that Tachihara was concerned about:

In the end, the Black Lizard stood behind Higuchi’s decision and followed her, saving Akutagawa in the process. They did so not solely because she was their superior, but because they have trust in her and respect her.

Tachihara playing the Double Agent is similar to Ango’s role during Dark Era. They both joined the “evil” side as a spy, but found people they got close with and care about. Both of them aren’t able to shake off their feelings regarding these people who became dear to them, despite their original orders and mission.

Characters in the BSD universe make friends with people who are on the opposite side or who are their enemies. They also tend to ally with their actual or former enemies, if it means to achieve the same goal.

Tachihara acts way more casual with his Black Lizard colleagues. He calls Hirotsu “gramps”, Higuchi “big sis” and Akutagawa “big bro”, suggesting that he sees them as his family, even though he may do so unconsciously. The Black Lizard have shown to truly care about Tachihara as a person as well, even without knowing about his ability.

They are relieved to know that he isn’t hurt or dead. Furthermore, Hirotsu highly compliments Tachihara and admires him for his mindset and actions. In return, Tachihara feels guilty for having to hurt Hirotsu and Gin, back then already not able to fully betray them.

.

Playing the Double Agent:

Later on, Tachihara’s true intentions for joining Port Mafia get revealed. He realizes that he used his brother as an excuse, and understands that in reality he was just trying to find his true self. Before that, he told himself that he joined only to get close to Yosano for revenge. During his whole childhood he had been compared to his brother, which left him with major self-doubts and a lack of self-identity. If he wasn’t as good, as useful, as heroic like his brother, he would be nothing. He would have no value:

Tachihara states several times that he “wanted to become someone”. Too insecure and afraid to identify with who he is, he simply decided to take the opposite way his brother took, and identified with the role he was given. First, he was a delinquent and simply “bad”. As a Hunting Dog he was then given the role of a military officer, whose job was to catch terrorists. When he got his order to infiltrate Port Mafia as a spy, he probably tried to identify with just that. But this given mission helped him to get away from his role as a Hunting Dog, and he found a place where he feels he truly belongs to.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that throughout this arc he gets portrayed in a mirror-like way:

It’s supposed to point out his search for himself, and which side he will choose in the end, now that he is learning to trust his own instincts. He slowly steps out of the shadow of his brother and accepts the person he is.

This is possible for him to do, because he has the support of the Black Lizard. During his time with the Hunting Dogs he simply followed orders and had no opinion of his own, but a purpose in life. He did this to please them and being accepted as someone worthy by them. When he rejoins the Hunting Dogs, but secretly still works as a spy in the Port Mafia, he realizes that his mindset already follows that of a Port Mafia member:

Since the Port Mafia has a more greyish view on crime and justice and have clashed with the ADA several times in the past, they turn out to be the ones to truly believe that the ADA were set-up by someone and are not terrorists.

Hirotsu and Gin both encourage and support Tachihara to form an opinion of his own, when he asks them about the ADA’s case, and not to simply believe the false facts:

This is furthermore emphasized by Mori as the Port Mafia’s boss discussing the ADA’s case with the Black Lizard and with this, stating his trust in them:

Due to the circumstance that Tachihara is treated as an equal among his Black Lizard peers and treated with trust, he’s starting to be able to question the accusations against the ADA and comes to the logical conclusion that something is wrong. This later leads him to take the search for the real mastermind into his own hands, instead of simply following orders.

It’s his own opinion and own choice what leads to the tearing of the page and its power, and with it the Decay of Angel’s plan:

This in itself is a very nice twist, because it was something neither Fyodor nor Dazai could know about or orchestrate. They both could only make people go so far and act in a certain way, but not tear through bonds people share with each other. Which gets confirmed when Dazai said that it’s the people on the battlefield making the world turn, and not those planning schemes.

In the end, it’s Mori as the Port Mafia’s boss to decide whether he keeps or kills Tachihara for his betrayal. It’s a rule to kill those who have betrayed the Port Mafia. But Mori already knew which side Tachihara will choose and which side he feels he belongs to, even before Tachihara himself did.

- - - - -

Last but not least, I want to thank the person who requested this meta from me. I hope you enjoyed reading this and that it was worth the wait. I had immense fun writing about characters who usually aren’t on my radar that much. Thank you very much!

[Edit: “he simply followed orders and had no opinion of his own, or a purpose in life” was changed to “he simply followed orders and had no opinion of his own, but a purpose in life“. Which was phrased wrong by me in the original post!]

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Composed of the Elements

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  When a case takes the team to (Y/N)'s home town, her best friend Spencer helps her leave all the baggage behind.

Title Song: Sweet as Whole, Sara Bareilles

Word Count: 2705

Warnings: high school bullying, brief mentions of a case, smoking

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” -Oscar Wilde

~

You walked into the bullpen with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other.

“Morning, (Y/N),” your best friend, Spencer, called from his desk.

“Morning, Spence.” You sat down at your desk. Before you could get settled, JJ announced a case.

“We’ve been called in to a small town in Indiana,” JJ said, clicking on the slide projector.

“Wait. When you say small town…” you said, feeling your body tense.

“We’re going to (L/N)’s hometown,” Hotch confirmed. After going over the details of the case, he said, “Wheels up in thirty.”

Spencer reached for your arm, but you were up and moving to the bullpen before he could catch you. He watched as you grabbed your bag from your desk, ignoring Morgan’s attempts at conversation. Your usual peppy, outgoing self was gone, replaced with a stranger.

When the team gathered on the jet, they discussed the case together. You sat at the back of the cabin, staring out at the clouds, tapping on the table in front of you.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Gideon sitting in front of you. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I never thought I’d be going back there. I thought I could leave and never look back.”

“Hey, I know it isn’t easy, but we need your help. You know this town and the people in it. That can help us.”

You sighed and stood up. “Fine.” Walking over to the team, you said, “One thing you need to know about these people: they don’t like outsiders. At all.”

“What do you mean by outsiders?” Hotch asked.

You scoffed. “Anyone who isn’t born and raised in the town. Even if you’ve lived there for years, if you weren’t born in Newton, you’re not to be trusted. You’ll see first-hand when we meet with the local PD.”

“What about the victims?” Derek asked you.

“I knew both of them in high school,” you said, flicking through the file. “But I don’t know what anyone has been doing with their lives.”

Spencer couldn’t help but notice the sadness in your eyes. Despite his aversion to touch, he reached out and rested his hand on top of yours. You were his safety net. He loved you, as more than just his best friend.

~

When the team got to the police station, you stuck to the back of the group while JJ and Hotch made introductions.

“Detective Miller,” Hotch said, holding his hand out. “I’m Agent Hotchner. You’ve already spoken to Agent Jareau. This is SSA Gideon, Dr. Reid, SSA Morgan, and SSA (L/N).”

“Wait. Little nerdy (Y/N) (L/N)?” the detective said, finally noticing you. “Wow, who would have thought you’d come back to Newton?” You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes down.

“Do you have a place we can set up a case board?” Spencer asked, noticing your unease.

“Sure.”

“Did you know the victims well?” JJ asked him.

The detective nodded. “We all do. Kelly’s my son’s teacher. Julia and I dated in high school. Our kids are friends.”

“Does everyone in town know each other well?” JJ asked as she helped you pin the crime scene photos to the board.

“Of course. We’re like a family. When your town only has 300 people, you have to look out for each other.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “You have something to say there, (Y/N)?”

“She’s Agent (L/N) to you,” Gideon interrupted. “JJ, Julia Coleman’s family is here.”

~

“You look different,” Detective Miller said to you as you worked late to help nail down the profile. “You look good.”

“Detective Miller-”

“Come on, you can call me Tim.” He stepped closer to you. “You don’t have to be so professional.”

“Excuse me,” you said, though it was no more than a whisper. You slipped out of the room and stood outside the precinct, leaning against the wall. You pulled a small box out of your jacket pocket.

“Since when do you smoke?” Spencer asked you, coming up next to you.

You lit a cigarette and took a drag before saying, “Since high school.” Seeing Spencer’s concern, you said, “Relax, I haven’t for a while. It’s only when I get really stressed.”

“You know, each cigarette takes about seven minutes off your life.”

“If it’s seven minutes I don’t have to spend with Timothy Miller or anyone else from this damn town, then I don’t care.”

“What did he do to you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, (Y/N), it’s me. Talk to me. Please?”

You looked at your best friend’s pleading eyes and sighed. You put out your cigarette and said, “You know I didn’t have a good high school experience. After my mom died, my dad moved us to his childhood home. I moved schools halfway through the first semester. I was the weird new kid who wore all black with braces and clunky glasses and was way too into Stephen King books. I was an easy target.” You cleared your throat. “Julia and Tim were my biggest tormentors. When they dated, it was worse.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

You chewed your lip. “Tim asked me to the prom when he and Julie were on an off period of their relationship. I got so excited, like an idiot. I mean, I knew he didn’t like me in that way. After all, why would he?” You laughed, but there was no joy behind it. Spencer felt his heart clench at how you saw yourself. He thought you were the most beautiful, amazing woman to ever exist.

“But I thought at least I’d have a friend, you know? I rented a dress and did my hair, all that stuff. Tim said he was going to pick me up. He never came.” Your eyes burned with tears at the memory. “The worst part was, my dad didn’t know there was anything going on. After-after my mom died, he gave up. When he wasn’t working, he was drinking and smoking.” You shook your head. “Tim just brought all those feelings back.”

Spencer reached out and wiped the tears off your cheek. “You didn’t deserve any of that. No one deserves that.”

“Carrie was my favorite book in high school. I wonder what that says about me.”

“Why don’t we head back to the hotel?” Spencer offered, holding his hand out to you. “Rest might help us with the case.”

~

The next morning, the team discovered there was another murder. Misty Lincoln had been killed in the same way as the other two victims. Spencer was graphing the geographical profile while you sat at the table, staring at the crime scene photos.

“You see something?” Hotch asked you.

“I’m not sure. Uh, could I- could I take like two hours? I think there might be something that’ll help us in my dad’s old things.”

“Sure. But you’re not going alone. Take Reid with you.”

You knew better than to argue with your boss. “Yes, sir.”

When you and Spencer got into the SUV, your fingers started tapping the steering wheel as you drove, letting muscle memory guide you. You pulled into the parking lot of a storage facility. Spencer followed behind you as you passed row after row of storage units. When you finally stopped, you flipped through your keychain until you found one you were looking for. You hadn’t spoken to Spencer since getting in the car back at the station, and he was starting to worry.

After you opened the door to the unit, you looked at Spencer. “After my dad died, I moved all his stuff here. I got rid of some stuff, of course. What would I ever do with an old couch that had more cigarette burns than upholstery?” You ran your hand over a white garment bag. The golden lettering was faded, but Spencer could still make out the word bridal, and what he could infer was the word boutique from the few remaining letters. “Some things I just couldn’t get rid of.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Spencer asked you, picking up a picture at the top of an open box. You were between who he could only assume were your parents, and you all looked happy. You looked just like your mother. The small you, who couldn’t be much older than 8, clung to the woman’s side. Your father had his arm around your mother’s waist. It all looked very domestic.

“Sure,” you said, digging through a box at the back of the unit.

“Why have you been acting so different since we got here? I mean, you’ve been acting so meek and timid, which isn’t you. I once heard you threaten a cop that you would, and I quote, ‘shove your foot so far up his ass that he would taste the mud on your shoe.’ What’s going on?” He set the frame back on the top of the box.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess… I spent so long trying to distance myself from this place and when I came back, I was back to being a scared little 15-year-old.”

“But, you’re not, (Y/N). You’re strong and confident.” It was then Spencer heard you sniffle and noticed you were crying. “(Y/N)?”

You wiped your face. “Sorry. It’s just… I worked so hard for the image of me that you all see and-and I’m just so afraid that being here is going to erase all that. I worked so hard at the Academy to form an identity that wasn’t this and-”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), hey,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Breathe. Our image of you is not going to change just because your old tormentors are here. I- uh, we, the team, we love you. You’re our family. I think Garcia would riot if Hotch ever tried to get rid of you.” You chuckled at that and it made him smile. “Now, how about we get out of here and work more on our profile?”

~

When you got back to the precinct, Hotch asked you, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.” You pulled an old yearbook out of your bag. “All the victims are from the same graduating class, and they were all in the same extracurriculars. Look.”

“We’re ready to give the profile,” Gideon said after flipping through the book.

Your team gathered the police department to deliver your preliminary profile.

“We’ve come to the conclusion that our unsub can only be a local,” Spencer said. “He-”

“There’s no way,” Officer Miller interrupted. “No one in this town would do that. Besides, why would I trust this walking stick insect over the people I’ve known my whole life? You’re wrong, Stick-Bug.”

“How dare you,” you said, stepping forward. The rest of your team stepped away. They knew what was coming. No one would say it, but they all knew how you and Spencer felt about each other. “How dare you talk to Spencer that way. Captain Bell invited us here to help you find out who’s murdering members of your community. You have no right to talk to my family that way.”

“Your family? These people are your family?”

“A family is anyone who makes you feel loved, and by that definition, yes. These people are my family. And if you ever talk to any of them like that again, I will bring your life crashing down around you with one simple phone call.”

“Oh, look who’s finally got a backbone,” Tim laughed. “Little (Y/N) thinks she sounds all big and threatening.”

“It’s not a threat, Timothy, it’s a promise,” you said. “And I’m sure Captain Bell would take you off this case if I told him you have a conflict of interest. I’m sure he’d love to know you’d had an affair with one of the victims. You and Julia never could stay away from each other, could you?”

Spencer fought a smile at seeing you return to yourself, as well as seeing Timothy’s face pale. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way to thank you.

~

The case was finally over. Like always, Spencer had been right. The unsub was a guy from your graduating class who felt the women from your class shunned and mistreated him. Thankfully, you were able to sympathize with him and get him to come in without any extra violence.

Hotch was giving the team the night in the hotel before heading back to Quantico in the morning. You were flipping through the channels on the hotel’s TV, already in your pajamas by 8:30. You finally settled on some old reruns of Friends when there was a knock at your door. You groaned and extracted yourself from your blanket cocoon and trudged over to the door.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” you asked after opening your door to reveal Spencer, still in his work clothes.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

“Spencer, I’m in my pajamas-”

“That doesn’t matter. Just, come with me. Please?”

You tugged your old sweatshirt on and followed Spencer down the hallway, to the elevator.

“Where are we going?” you asked him.

“It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“You trust me, right?”

“Of course, I do, Spence. You know that.”

“Okay well,” he covered your eyes with his hands and guided you forward. He dropped his hands and said, “surprise.”

You were standing on the patio of the hotel’s restaurant, the tables had been pushed to the side and lights were strung up all around.

“Spence, what’s all this?” you asked as he gently pulled you to the center of the patio.

“A way to say thank you,” he said. When he saw the confusion on your face, he said, “For sticking up for me at the precinct. I know it must have been hard to stand up to Detective Miller. And-and I remember you telling me that you don’t have many good memories here, and then I thought about your prom story, so…” He held his hand out to you as music started playing. “May I have this dance?”

You smiled and took Spencer’s hand. He rested his free hand on your waist, and your free hand rested on his shoulder as the two of you gently swayed to the soft music coming from the patio’s speakers.

“How’d you pull this off?” you asked him.

His smile was a bit sheepish. “Morgan and Garcia helped me pull some strings.”

“Of course they did. Garcia is the all-powerful puppet master.”

Spencer laughed as the two of you continued to dance. When Spencer heard you sniffle, he stopped and pulled away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He brushed a tear off your cheek. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No. It’s happy tears.” When you saw that Spencer still looked confused, you explained, “I never thought I’d have someone in my life who cares about me this much. I mean, look at all this. You did this just to make me happy.” You rested your forehead against Spencer’s and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. Spencer’s arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Of course I did. I love you. I-I mean, I care about you. Because you’re my best friend and-”

“Spence,” you said, stopping his rambling. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment.

Spencer’s brain, which usually worked at three times the speed of the average person, slowed to practically a halt. You had just kissed him. The girl he’s been longing for just kissed him. She kissed him . You were about to say something to him when his brain finally caught up and he kissed you back.

When the two of you pulled apart, you said, “Well, I guess my prom was worth the wait.”

Spencer smiled at you and kissed your forehead before continuing to dance with you.

~

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." -Anais Nin

[the-record]

Mother’s Day

A/N: Dad Spencer!!!! Just something super cute because I am tired and totally wanting kids rn. Sorry I haven’t been posting a lot, keep starting new things and then getting distracted. Some cute stuff coming out soon!

Category: Fluff. So. Much. Fluff.

Warnings: Very brief mention of crime, some mentions of food, I think that’s it? 

You were getting ready to go out to the grocery store when you heard your ring tone. *Spencer <3* You smiled and answered it.

"Well if it isn't my favorite genius."

"Hey bub. How are you?" You smiled at the pet name.

"A little tired. How are you? How was that case?" He seemed cheery so you figured it went well but it never hurts to ask.

"It was good. Hostage situation but we got everyone out safely and apprehended the unsub. Listen, can I ask you something?" You felt your nerves get worse.

"Uh yeah of course baby, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner? And more importantly, if you wanted to meet my daughter?" You bit you lip and smiled. You thought he was going to break up with you, this was the best thing you had heard in a while.

"I would love to Spence!" You were truly over the moon.

You had heard about his daughter. He adopted her after a case years ago, before you met him. Her parents were both victims but the unsub left her. She was apparently just like her father even if he wasn't her biological father.

"Great. It's totally casual. Just going to order takeout and watch a movie."

"That sounds perfect. I'll head over soon."

"I'll see you soon. I love you."

"Love you too." You hung up and jumped around in joy. You had been over to Spencer's before but she had always been at sleepovers or playdates to it could just be the two of you. You were over the moon. After dating for 3 years, he trusted you enough to let you into his daughters life.

He greeted you at the door. "Hey bub." He placed a short and sweet kiss on your lips before leading you inside and taking your jacket.

"What a gentleman." He lead you into his small house and you saw a little girl sitting on the couch eating pizza.

"Lorelai, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, this is Lorelai." You walked over to the girl and kneeled down by her.

"Hi Lorelai. it's nice to meet you."

"Hi." She was just as shy as her dad which you found cute.

"She's a little introverted." You stood up and smiled at him.

"Well she clearly takes after you." You stood their for a moment staring at him in awe before remembering you brought something with you. You reached into your purse and pulled out a necklace. It was a gold chain with a dainty butterfly on it. "Hey Lorelai, I brought you something." You held out the dainty jewelry to her. "Your dad said you really liked butterflies." She set down her plate a large smile grew on her face.

"Thank you! Can you help me put it on?" You nodded and she came next to you so you could clasp the necklace on her. You let it go and adjusted it so it sat perfectly on her.

"It looks beautiful on you." She smiled and sat back on the couch before returning to her pizza. You noticed a movie playing, Lilo and Stitch.

"Do you want a slice of pizza?" You leaned back into your boyfriend.

"Yeah." You looked up at him. "A piece would be nice, thank you." He kissed the top of your head and went to the kitchen to bring you something to eat. "Lorelai?"

"Rory." You looked at her confused. "Call me Rory, please." You nodded.

"Rory, do you mind if I sit next to you?" She scooched over slightly as an invitation to sit. You sat next to her and watched the movie. Lilo and Stitch was one of your favorites. She seem enticed by the movie and didn't her eyes off the screen for a second. Spencer entered again and smiled at the sight of you and Rory. He handed you a plate and sat next to you. You whispered to him, "She told me to call her Rory." His smiled grew even bigger and he put his arm around your shoulders.

"Daddy?" You both looked over at the little girl who was putting her plate on the coffee table.

"Yeah angel?"

"Can I sit with you and Y/N." You grinned and moved over slightly so she could sit in between you both. She got up and cuddled between you two, resting her head on Spencer. You smiled at the them, silently hoping one day she might be like that with you.

The movie dinners started to become more frequent and Rory started to warm up to you. When you came over she gave you a hug on site. At dinner she would talk to you about school and her friends. The pizza became home cooking. The movies became games. The hangouts became sleepovers. The sleepovers turned into you moving in. And that once shy, introverted girl, was begging you to cuddle and play and chat with her. You heart skyrocketed every time she asked you to play and not her dad. Then the best thing you could ever imagine happened.

“Hey Y/N?” You saw the little girl come around the corner.

“Hey baby what’s up?” You put down the knife you were using to chop up salad.

“Can you make chocolate chip cookies for the party tonight?” You smiled. You made fresh cookies for her to take to school every week in her lunch. 

“Of course. Do you want to help?” Her eyes lit up and she nodded. “Ok. I have a very special recipe,” You pulled down the recipe book in your spice cupboard. “This is my own recipe I came up with when I was just a little older than you.” She started to read the ingredients and got stared while you made dinner for tonight. When you had to wait on the food you helped her with the cookies. You played music and danced with her while the cookies baked. You noticed Spencer in the entry way of your kitchen. “Holy-” You cut yourself off because you hated cursing in front of kids. You pulled the girl to you, her back on your legs. “Spencer how long have you been standing there?” He came over and kissed his daughters head before doing the same to yours.

“Not long. You having fun kiddo?” He picked up Rory in his arms.

“Yeah! Mom let me help her make the cookie dough.” You felt the tears pool in your eyes and tried to blink them back, but one betrayed you and slid down your cheek. It had been a year since you moved in and you and Spencer would be 5 years in a couple of months. Never once did you even think about being called mom. You wiped the stray and checked the cookies, a perfect golden brown. 

“Hey Rory, do you want to come with me to go get ready while your dad finishes up down here for us?” She nodded and ran up the stairs leaving you in the dust. You hugged Spencer. “Did you hear her? She called me mom.” He cupped your face with his hand.

“I can’t wait to hear that name more.” You laughed softly and put your hands on top of his. “I love you Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I love you too Spencer Reid.”

Little did you know that wouldn’t be your only surprise that night.

You sat upstairs with the little girl. She was putting her air in a ponytail while you did your makeup. You were matching it to your dress. It was a navy blue, long satin dress. You apparently were having a fancy dinner tonight so Spencer said to dress the part. You could never say no to him. You felt a slight tug on your dress.

“Rory what’s up?” You looked at her.

“Can you do my makeup?” You smiled and decided that, yeah, that would be ok. She was only 7 but a little eyeshadow and lip gloss couldn’t hurt. You sat her down in your chair and told her to close her eyes. It was very subtle and natural. Just a little crease definition and some highlight on her inner corners. You put a clear lip gloss on her. 

“Perfect. You look gorgeous. Now go put on your dress ok? I hung it up in your room.” You finished your makeup and threw on some black heels to pair with the outfit. Some gold jewelry and you were all set. You walked down the stairs to see your oh so handsome boyfriend in the kitchen finishing up dinner. 

He was stunned.

You were stunning.

“Wow.” You chuckled softly at his comment.

“Did you see your daughter?” He shook his head and you heard little feet running in. She ran over to you in her light pink dress. You picked her up.

“Wow. My two favorite girls. You both look beautiful.” You blushed a little when he winked at you. You heard the doorbell ring and set down the girl, walking to the door. You saw JJ and her family. 

“Wow, Y/N you look, wow.” You smiled at JJ’s compliment.

“Wow yourself.” You saw Henry and bent down. “Your uncle Spence is in the kitchen.” You winked at him and he darted down to there. “Hey Will. Come in.” You opened the door a little wider so they could come inside. 

“The house looks great. You are really rubbing off on him.” I chuckled slightly.

“I do try. We won’t talk about our bedroom and bathroom though, still under construction.” JJ laughed a little. “Wine?” 

“Please.” You walked into the kitchen and pulled out lots of glasses and some bottles of wine. You poured a glass for yourself and JJ. “Does Will want any?” She shook her head and you looked at kids beside you. “Do you guys need something?”

“Can we have some?” You shook your head at Henry.

“This is big kid juice. Only for the adults. Do you guys want some little kid juice?” They both nodded and you grabbed them each a bottle of apple juice which they ran off with. You walked to the living room with Spencer. Even with heels he still had quite a few inches on you. The doorbell rang and as you stood up to get it Spencer stopped you.

“I got it.” You nodded and sat back down, talking to JJ. 

You heard Penelope, Alex, and Derek come in. They were chatting in the entryway but you couldn’t really define their words but the name Emily caught your interest. You both looked up and saw the wonderful Penelope in a bright fun dress as always. 

“Wow oh wow! Y/N come here!” You stood up and gave Penelope a hug. “It’s been too long.” You nodded in agreement.

“I know! We have to have a girls night soon.” You saw Emily walking in. “Emily?” You pulled her into a hug. “I thought you were in London?”

“I was but I have some time off and Spencer told me you were having dinner tonight so I just had to come.” You smiled. Emily had taken you in as family the moment Spencer introduced you to the team.

“That’s great. I’ll let you talk to everyone but we have a lot to catch up on.” She nodded and you went to the door to see your boyfriend. “Emily’s here.” He nodded. “Alright. What’s going on?”

“What makes you think something is happening?”

“Spencer. You told me this was a fancy dinner. You have been playing with your hands all night and now Emily is here.” He shrugged and lucky for him the doorbell rang. “This is not over.” You opened the door. “Hotch! Hey Jack! Henry and Rory are in the living room.” You hugged Hotch.

“Spencer treating you well I hope?” You nodded.

“Like I’m the only person on Earth.” He smiles a little walks to the living room. He was quickly followed by Rossi. 

“Y/N! How are you kiddo?”

“Hanging in there. Everyone is in the living room. Penelope probably has the wine.” He nodded and you followed him to the living room, but not before locking the door. There was conversation flowing before Spencer announced dinner. You all sat around the table enjoying the food and dessert. Jokes and stories being told. 

You all circled back to the living room. 

“Y/N?” You looked down in to the girl in front of you.

“Hey sweet girl. What’s up?”

“My dad has something to ask you.”

“Ok. One moment.” You turned around and were faced by Spencer, surrounded by candles. “Spencer, what’s going on.” You glanced around nervously but he held your hands.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I met you 5 years ago today. I was at the coffee shop on my day off of work and I saw you sitting there at a little table and all I can remember thinking is, “Wow. She is gorgeous.” So I bought you a cookie and put my number and name on it since I was so bad at talking to people.” You felt tears well up into your eyes. “You ended up calling me about 5 minutes later. I was sitting on a park bench drinking coffee and I answered the call. Thank god for me being a risk taker that day. Your first words to me were, “Hi. I’m Y/N. Turn around.” And that was our first date. Months later, we had been hanging out often and I asked you to be my girlfriend. Years later you met Rory and were only kind to her. I love you Y/N Y/L/N. Will you marry me?” You nodded and hugged him.

“Yes! Yes, 100% yes!” Your friends cheered around you as he placed the ring on your finger. You picked up Rory. “How do you feel about me being your mom?”

Your eyes fluttered open as you woke up from the sun peeking through your curtains. You expected to see someone next to you but were disappointed. These feelings didn’t last long though as you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in!”

Your husband walked in holding a tray with food, along side Rory and Emily.

The girls sat on your right. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Being Engaged To A Handsome Nobleman But He Turns Out To Be Lestat Who Makes You His Latest Victim

Lestat De Lioncourt X FemReader

Warnings: Death, mentions of blood, violence

(A/N:) Happy first day of October my lovelies! I hope you are all ready for some delightfully spooky and frightful imagines! I have six written out so far and I plan on writing more but I'm going to spread them out over time! If you have any requests make sure to get them in to me and I'll see if I can write them for you! But until then happy reading!

~Countess

Life was beyond blessed at the moment for you. You had everything you could ever dream of and were engaged to a most handsome noble lord. Your parents were beyond ecstatic and wanted you to have the dream wedding you always longed for ever since you were a child. Your friends listened to you gush at tea time joyfully giggling as you described your husband to be. Though you could see a flash of jealousy at some points in the conversation but quickly it disappeared and their joyful gazes returned. You knew that they would find love like you had one day and you assured them that you thought of that often. Now as you set before your large mirror readying yourself for the evening with your beloved you couldn’t help but hum as you were unable to contain your happiness. Finishing the last details you could hear your maid announce that said man had just arrived. As you emerged you could see him standing within the foyer, golden hair shining under the candlelight and rosy lips upturned in a gracious smile.

“Good evening,” you curtsied in greeting before Lestat took your hand giving a kiss to the soft skin.

“Good evening,” he purred sultrily. Before whisking you out the front door your parents came to say goodbye. Your father was talking sternly with Lestat as your mother held you tightly. They had always been protective over you but Lestat had shown himself to be the perfect gentleman. With one last hug your mother released you only to be embraced by your father. One last warning from the man who protected you your whole life you were whisked away out into the cooler evening. You shivered once before giggles erupted from your throat. The night was crisp but clean and people dotted the streets. Stars glittered above where lantern light couldn’t touch. The streets felt like a wonderland and Lestat felt like your prince. Dinner went well though as usual Lestat didn’t eat. When you had first met him you had thought it weird that he wouldn’t eat around you but he always had a reasonable excuse on why he could not dine with you. The night waned on further as the temp drop furthered. Walking in the park quickly warmed you but what joy you had felt at first was being replaced by a feeling of unease. Something didn’t seem right and Lestat’s grip seemed to tighten. Halfway through the park thunder rumbled loudly, lightning splitting the sky in bright white light. You could have sworn the lightening bolts were smiling gruesomely at you.

“Lestat,” you sniffed scared out of your mind. “I’m ready to go home dear this weather is frightful.”

“Don’t worry dear,” he stroked your cheek his nails prickling your skin. You could have sworn he had claws but you chalked it up to the cold clamminess of your skin. “My home isn’t far from here. I’ll take you there and we can weather the storm in safety.”

“But darling I really want to go home.”

“And why is that,” he took your wrist squeezing it harshly making you cry out. “Do you think I’m incapable to take care of you?”

“No that’s not it at all,” you pleaded trying to get him to release you. “I am just a little tired and long for my bed. This evening has been so wonderful that you’ve tired me out.”

Lestat smirked, “I can tire you further if you so desire.” You wrenched yourself away fear taking over at seeing the bloodlust within his gaze.

Finally free you fled from the man you had thought you loved. His laughter rang out through the darkness as your shoes clacked against the stones on the park’s pathway. You couldn’t see and the rain wasn’t helping. You trembled from fear and the cold rain plastering your hair and clothing to your body. You dared not scream out in fear that the monster you realized was Lestat would find you. Danger suffocated you trying to close off your throat as you forced air into your lungs. Your dress was drenched making your running slow. You felt heavy and despair was taking over until you saw the exit to the park. Lantern light had never looked so good as you burst into the golden light. Frantically looking around the streets for help the once crowded area was now bare and desolate like a graveyard. You could have cried but the overwhelming urge to keep going wouldn’t let you. Starting in the direction back home you kept an eye out for Lestat while looking for whoever soul who could still be outside at this hour. You still felt it too dangerous to scream out until you were halfway home. A figure up the road brought you a sense of ease.

“Help me,” you cried holding your soggy dress up to run faster. “Help! I’m in danger!”

The figure turned their features still to far to make out. You could tell it was a man by the way the silhouette was shaped. You stopped trying to catch your breath only able to speak between pants.

“My…fiance…he’s trying…to kill…me…”

“Ohhhh,” the man spoke and your blood froze, “you poor dear.” Finally your savior was revealed under the pale waning lantern light, Lestat’s face was once again above you his lips drawn back to reveal sharp pointed fangs.

“No,” you screamed fighting to get away but he held tightly leaving bruises on your arms.

“Don’t worry love it’ll be all over soon,” he snarled gleefully. Fangs sunk into your neck piercing the artery in your neck. Blood gushed from your wound and down Lestat’s throat. At your scream all the lanterns were snuffed leaving you in darkness as the man you had thought would be your forever drained your life leaving you nothing but a dried husk to be found in the sickly rays of sunlight.

[i-make-questionable-choices]

When the Hurt Comes, So Does the Happiness.

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Torture, SPN level gore, mentions of rape/non-con, mentions of forced bestiality(nothing graphic), angst.

Summary: When Alastair disappeared after Anna’s death, he took you with him, holding you simply to torture the Winchesters. With the knowledge that angels are tracking him down, he sets out to hurt you as much as he can.

A/N: This kinda replaces the end of 04x15. Also my first work so please please please let me know how I did or anything else. Feedback is golden!

When Dean came back to life after 40 years in the pit, he had had trouble believing he was, in fact, alive. Paranoia followed him from hell, and it took a while for him to realize that his resurrection was not some cruel joke. It had taken some time, but slowly, he had accepted that this was real. That you were real.

But now you were gone. Plucked from his grasp like a child plucks a flower from the earth. It made Dean wonder if he ever left Hell.

—

Alastair hummed softly, relishing in the cries of his latest victim. It had been surprisingly easy to take his best student little pet away from him, and, though he was no where near either of the Winchesters, the knowledge that they would be driving themselves into the ground looking for you almost had him singing.

He hadn’t felt such exhilaration during a torture session as he was feeling since the righteous man had fallen onto his rack. And while he couldn’t use some of his preferred techniques, considering he wanted you alive, the knowledge that Dean was suffering at your mere absence was delicious.

Carefully selecting a pair cuticle nippers from his cart of tools, he turned with a flourish, grin falling as he realized you were unconscious. You were no fun unconscious, after all, he liked your screams.

With an aggrieved sigh, he dropped the nippers back on the table and, begrudgingly, snatched up a heavy leather collar. He sulked over to the rack where you lay unconscious and cinched it around your neck, far too tight for it to be comfortable, then stormed out of the room

—

When you flickered back into consciousness, all you could do was try and breath.

The still air chilled your bare skin, raising goosebumps along the paled flesh. The leather around your neck, though suffocatingly tight, was eerily comforting, and though it confused you, you lent into it. You needed all the comfort could could get.

Despite the freezing air and the chills that ran along your skin, the outside of your left thigh burned with a vengeance. Tears welled in your eyes as you recalled the moments before you fell unconscious.

The pain from the brand had cast all other thoughts from your mind when Alastair had seared what he called a ‘permanent reminder’ of himself into your skin.

It was all too much, the cold, the pain, your hunger, and the confusing comfort of the collar. You didn’t see it coming, but you barely had seconds before you passed out once more.

—

Alastair waking you up by pouring water on you wasn’t unusual, as a matter of fact, it seemed to be his preferred method. But each and every time the water had been icy.

This time, it was boiling.

You screamed as it awoke you, drowning out Alastair’s cruel laugh as you gasped and sobbed. Your body spasming against its restraints, desperately trying to evade the pain.

“Good morning, pet,” the sickly sweet tone of his voice sent shivers up your spine, “did you enjoy your bath?”

A slight pull choked you for a moment as Alastair undid the buckle before the collar disappeared.

“You fell asleep on me last night, quiet rude don’t you think?” He grinned as tears streamed down your face, tinting pink as they washed away bits of dried blood. “No matter, we have plenty of time for just us today!”

A flash a metal caught in the cold light as Alastair brandished the cuticle nippers once more.

Slowly, delicately, he lowered them to your face, tracing your features just as Dean used to in the wee hours of the morning. If Alastair knew this, he would rejoice knowing that the seat gesture was now ruined by his doing.

He reached your lips, then without warning, split your upper lip in half.

Your wail was music to his ears, the fading sound leaving him yearning for more. He forced you to count threatening you with harsh punishment should you refuse.

By the time they got to one-hundred, your body was shaking with sobs, voice cracking. To add insult to injury, your stomach, having gone four days now with out food, rumbled and groaned.

Humiliation flooded through you, your cheeks burning.

Through tears you spared a glance at your torturer,  furrowed brow widened as you perceived the look of sadistic joy upon his face.

“Pet!” He cried, the same way a mother or parental figure does when you do something unexpected. "You should have told me you were so hungry!”

He released the nippers, letting them clatter to the ground.

“I wasn’t going to feed you just yet but I suppose we could switch things around a bit…” The strap across your forehead prevented you from turning your head completely, but your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw the contraption Alastair selected; a long tube, open on one end with a funnel connected to the other.

In a desperate attempt at self preservation, you clamped your lips tight, ignoring the burning pain that spread across your face at the pressure on your cut lip. Alastair snorted, the corners of his smirk curling up further.

“Very well then, if you insist on being difficult…”

You cried out as he shoved the tube up your nose. It wasn’t a large tube, but good god was it to big for such a small space. You could feel it scraping away at the inside of your nose, could feel the blood trickle down to your mouth.

There was barely a warning before it entered your throat; a slight tickle at the top of your mouth, perhaps.

You coughed and gagged as he slipped it down you throat further, eyes leaking tears like a faucet.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the tube stopped moving. Sniffling, you sobbed, not bothering to muffle the sounds of crying.

“Bonne appétit, kitten.”

You couldn’t see what he poured into the funnel, part of you didn’t want to anyways. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, waiting for whatever pain you would feel next. You did not expect to feel a tickle in your chest before your body spasmed into a coughing fit.

“Whoopsie!”

Alastair’s voice sent shivers up your spine. “Wrong way. I’m so sorry, kitten, how careless of me.”

Pulling it back out was just as bad as him pushing it in, it was unnatural and you so longed to claw at your neck.

It took him a moment to actually get the tube into your esophagus, but with a sharp jab and a feel around your neck, he was pretty sure it was in the right place now.

He was halfway through, ignoring your gags in an effort to repeal the foreign device, when his head shot up, eyes gazing towards the door, before a smirk adorned his mug.

“Well, pet, it seems that we have a guest,” he reached for the collar, tightening it more than he ever had before. “You’ll be a good girl while I go and greet them, won’t you?”

With a slight bow, he disappeared from your vision, exiting somewhere behind you and slamming a door you couldn’t see. The only sounds now audible were your gags as your body fought to expel the tube from its system.

Tilted onto your back, it was excruciatingly hard for you to vomit up the tube and you needed up spewing several mouthfuls of bile onto yourself before you could spit it out.

With Alastair gone, you began to process your situation.

Naked, shorn, and weak, covered in cuts and burns and bruises, sticky with blood and bile and the filth of the dogs Alistair had set on you. Helpless. Alone. Collared, branded, and chained like an animal. For the first time in these two weeks, it hit you just how pathetic you were was.

It was the straw that broke the camels back. The loneliness. The time to think. With a shuddering gasp, you descended into tears

—

Dean sprinted through the halls of the warehouse. Slamming his hands into every door, yelling out your name. The desperation raw in his voice.

He reached the end of the hall and tried the door; locked.

At first, he backed up, trying with all his might to kick it down, and then to bodyslam it open. When his body couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed his gun.

Aiming it at the glass square in the door, he fired several times until he had a hole large enough to reach through.

Shards of glass still clinging to the door frame pierced his jacket at sliced his skin, he didn’t care, he had to check everywhere.

It was an awkward angle, and Dean could barely reach it, but he managed to twist the knob on the inside until the door swung open; revealing the carnage inside.

—

It took the Dean a moment to register that the form on the table was indeed the women he was looking for. No longer did you sport your gorgeous H/C locks, the hair barely dotting your shaved scalp as it began growing back. Your skin was so stained and burned and bruised it didn’t look human.  

Hesitantly, as if approaching a frightened rabbit, Dean paced forwards.

“Y/N?” His voice as hesitant as his steps.

Your eyes flew open, fearful as a rabbit chased by dogs. The relief that flooded them as soon as you realized who it was was immediate.

“de-an?” Your voice choppy and hoarse.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” Dean struggled to blink back tears.

“s-sammy?”

“He’s okay, I’m gonna get you outta here, okay sweetheart?”
 You hummed, eyes half closed as your head lolled to the side, a couple tears cutting through the grime on your cheeks and nose.

Silence hung between them as Dean fiddled with straps around your wrists, slick blood and bile. The straps had been locked so tightly that they had rubbed the skin raw and left it paled as blood smuggled to fill back in.

As the moved to your ankles he grimaced, noticing the sticky white mess that dripped down your inner thighs.

You didn’t make a sound as he adjusted your prone figure to sit forwards, letting you lean against his shoulder as he fiddled with the too tight buckle around your neck. He didn’t care about the vomit that dribbled down your chin, staining his shirt, nor did he care about the blood that seeped into his clothes.

His only focus was you.

The collar fell away from your neck leaving behind rubs and bruised skin. Dean had expected the removal of the collar to calm you, not for your breathing to speed up ten-fold, nor to be able to feel your heart pound against his chest.

“no.” It was barely a whisper, a hint of a word, but Dean stilled, pulling back as he gripped your shaking shoulders. His mind was scrambling for answers, what had Alastair done to you? Why were you wearing t-

Oh.

He pulled you tight against his chest once more, murmuring reassurances in your ear as he hid his own tears from view.

His rage burned as he recalled his time apprenticing under Alastair; the time that monster had shown him one of his more ‘refined’ techniques.

Conditioning.

Training the victims mind into associating the removal of a collar or chains or the opening of their cage with extreme pain. It was a technique so ruthless that Dean had never been able to bring himself to do it.

Not even at his worst.

It took Dean a moment, but, as he desperately tried to banish those horrid memories from his mind, he shrugged off his jacket. Gently as he could, he draped the fabric over your shoulders and carefully guided each arm through the sleeves.

It was a bit too big, your fingers still hiding in the sleeves, but it gave you a shred of modesty and you clutched at him tighter.

When his arm wormed its way under your knees, you stifled your whimper as best you could but you could not conceal the tiniest of squeaks that escaped your cracked lips.

Deans eyes filled with pity, mouth parting to apologize but you beat him to it.

“P-please, just get me out of here.”

He hesitated a moment then steeled himself and nodded, his other arm supporting your lower back.

“Sorry about this sweetheart.”

You gasped softly as some of your injuries rubbed against his shirt and fresh tears sprang in your eyes. As he lifted you closer to his chest, you brought your trembling arms up around his neck, leaning your chin over his shoulder.

The beat of his steps both jarred your injuries and provided comforting sounds, lulling you into a more restful state. You would have fallen asleep had Dean not stepped outside moments later.

The air was crisp, slight breezing chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you burrowed deeper into Deans arms and he tightened his hold on you. As he carried you away from the hellhole in which you had been trapped, the sky came into view. And with the sky, came the stars.

They twinkled, blurring in you teary eyes and you took in a long, deep breath of fresh air.

You couldn’t help yourself; sobs wracked your body as it truly set in that you were finally free. Free from Alastair and his pain. Free from his torture. Free.

Dean didn’t say a word. He knew exactly the emotions that were coursing through you. When he had first come back, he had been hesitant and as wary as a rabbit. Not daring for ages to believe that his resurrection was not some cruel joke.

As he reached the Impala. He had to shift his hold on you to reach the passengers side handle and even then he had difficulty opening the door, but he managed. Not daring to set you down and the unforgivingly cold concrete.

Slowly ducking his head, he lowered you onto your back onto the cool leather seat of the Impala. He made to pull away but your arms tightened around his neck, terrified of losing him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart, I’m just gonna grab you a blanket, okay? I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He took time to check that everything he did was okay with you, letting you know everything so as not to leave you dreading something he would do, even if he knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. Gently he took ahold of your forearms, clutching them between fingertips, and lowered them to your chest. Pulling away quickly, he opened the door to the backseat, reaching up onto the rear dash to grab one of the thick blankets they kept there. He shut the door as quietly as he could, but that didn’t stop you from reflexively tensing at the abrupt noise. Though Dean noticed, he said nothing, it wouldn’t help you right now anyways.

Carefully, he worked the blanket underneath you, then laid you back down on the leather, wrapping you up nice and tight. He ducked back, about to shut the door when the rustling of feathers sounded behind him, alarming the both of you.

Quiet as a cat, in all his trench-coated glory, was Castiel. His eye were stoic and matched Deans fiery gaze.

“What do you want now?” Dean snarled, turning completely and shielding you from the angels view.

For a moment, Castiel was silent, eyes dropping to stare at the road beneath him before he returned his gaze to Dean, stepping forwards.

“This hasn’t been easy for you.”

“Yeah no shit! What the hell do you want?”

“I’m here to help.” He nodded at you.

“Why the fuck would you do that. You’ve done nothing for us since you pulled me outta hell!” Deans voice was low and angry, yet cautiously quiet.

Behind him, you shivered as the night air crept in through the open door.

Castiel said nothing, lifting his chin to regard Dean. The look he sported was not judgmental, but perhaps slightly inquisitive. And not the type of inquisitivity that came alongside confusion, no he knew everything he wanted and needed to, but instead a type of inquisitivity that prompted Dean to stop and think.

For a few tense moments, only the stars dared to move, it seemed even the air around the angel and the hunter stilled. Then, slowly, cautiously, Dean stepped back.

“Fine, but hurry the hell up!”

Periwinkle eyes softened, a look of compassion that one might expect when they thought of an angel, and he leant over you.

At first you shrunk away, not willing to be near anyone other than Dean, but you had to trust Dean, trust that he wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t mildly trust near you.

Eyes glowing blue, Castiel pressed but two fingers to your forehead. The tenseness in your shoulders seemed to relax and the frown upon your lips softened. A wave of warmth, like a loving hug, washed through you, chasing away the pain Though the bloodstains and other substances soiling your skin remained, the physical damage was slowly washed away.

He stepped back, allowing Dean to approach you and examine his work. Though Dean still had his back to him, Castiel gave one last thoughtful comment.

“We’re not all so stuck-up, if you give us a chance.”

Dean had barely started to turn before Castiels wings rustled once more and he disappeared into nothingness.  

He stared long and hard at the spot where the angel had once stood, the let his gaze wander upwards. Overhead, a patch of cloud was slowly pushed across the sky, and the moon glowed brightly. She smiled down at the hunter as he gazed at her in return.

Dean lowered his gaze.

He stood there for only a moment longer then turned, shutting the passengers door behind him and walking across the front of the car. He pulled the door open and plopped down in the drivers seat, exhausted.

He hadn’t expected it, but a soft smile graced his features as you scooted closer to him, wresting your head against his thigh.

Starting the car he pulled out from the curb, placing one hand on your head. You murmured then nuzzled into the touch.’

It would take weeks, maybe even months, but, as he sped away from Alastair’s hellhole Dean knew you would be okay.

Both of you, would be okay.

[hauntedziosportrait]

The Relativity and Connections between Jamaasian Lore and Mirabai

WARNING! ⚠️ Very religious themes. I apologise if I have any incorrect or outdated information, it's very risky writing about something surrounding a certain religion when in fact.. I'm an atheist.

The lore of Jamaa has always been a really tricky and fairly eerie topic to cover. It has themes from all sorts of different cultures and despite the main tale being retold, changed and edited one thousand times, the information we receive is clear about who the certain deities and characters are and what their roles to play give.

Today, we're looking more on the more eerie side of Animal Jam- The relationship between Mira and Zios. Surprisingly, we know more about our enemies the phantoms than we do the entities we're serving. Alot has been told about Mira, but on the other hand, not much information has been provided about Zios and his identity making him more or less a very suspicious character to take heed of. That's why there are so many theories regarding him specifically; the most we know is that...

●He is the spiritual highest point of the Jamaa heiarchy, having created Mira and setting the stars and planets in motion

●He is often depicted as a bodyless golden mask surrounded by intricate patterns and grooves

●He was the lover of Mira

●He dissappeared at some point in time and never came back.

To jog your memory, I'm going to be basing this theory more on the Old Jamaasian Lore. Interestingly, the lore was changed to make it appealing to a younger audience, but in the old lore we get a stronger sense of emotion and alot more information about the guardian spirits of Jamaa.

Zios is practically a God. He sets several plants, stars and seas in motion. Eventually he gets lonely and gives life to a deity said to be the perfect incarnation of humble beauty; a graceful grey heron named Mira. Mira and Zios get on well together and she often tells him how talented and artistic he is.

Eventually, Zios falls for her, and creates a beautiful land for he and Mira to share; Jamaa- as a sign of his love.

Mira is ecstatic and suggests and creates the idea of giving live to mortal inhabitants to the land- us, the animals. However, Zios gets a little snappy at Mira for that. He meant for this place to share just between the two and for nobody else to interfere.

He then snaps at Mira for creating the Animals and the two fall into a fearsome and emotional argument. Mira's tears then, without her knowing, come into accidental contact with the mortal world. Since she is an omniscient deity, mixing such power with normal life would end in ruin- Thus creating the phantoms.

Here's the catch. Mira and Zios are too wrapped up in their argument to notice the phantoms attacking Jamaa. Since the phantoms were created by Mira, they would only obey her. That is why they are after Zios, to avenge Mira. Also a case why we never see the phantoms target Mira specifically.

Then, they notice the peril Jamaa is in and, still angry at eachother, select the powerful and strong remaining animals in their selective tribes as Alphas to defend.

Shortly after, Zios goes missing. We're told the phantoms took him through the phantom portal never to be seen again. However, there is alot of evidence to suggest he fell victim to the phantoms and gave in to their side, furthermore taking control of the Phantom Empire. That may be why, despite their goal being reached, they continue to harass and attack the alphas, Jamaa, and by extent, Mira.

From then, the Alphas succeed, and all is well. Zios, however, is never heard of again.

Despite their argument, Mira is eternally upset. That is why phantoms keep producing, due to her tears. Since Zios left angry at Mira, it may be an extra that she thinks Zios left hating her.

And... That is what is inferred from the old lore. The new lore consists of less knowledge about Mira and Zios, but more information about the Alphas and of course the animal heartstones.

Now, here is the thing. The tale of Jamaa is very familiar sounding to some people. Zios is often seen as omnipotent and very powerful. He's often seen as similar to several different gods in mythology..

●Zeus, the Greek god of sky and thunder (This one is self explanatory, even their names are similar: however I've seen this one cause a bit of controversy as this is comparing Zios to a technically VERY problematic god.. Also, Mira sounds alot like Hera!)

●Viracocha, the great creator deity in the pre-Inca and Inca mythology in the Andes region of South America. He's mainly mentioned in incan and mesopotamian mythology as the high creator god (and this one shares more similarities than you may think!) They both had lovers, both dissappeared after creating the world, both had similar powers (examples of heliokenesis) and they actually look REALLY similar, most likely Zios' design being based off of Viracocha's golden armor. Viracocha pictured below!

●And the last one... Krishna. An important religious figure in Hinduism and the final reincarnation/eighth avatar of Vishnu.

And that last one is what I'm planning to talk about today!

The perhaps most important part of this theory is Mirabai. Mirabai, often called Meera or Mira, was a 16th-century Hindu mystic poet and devotee of Krishna. She was known for her elegant beauty and poetry, as well as her eternal devotation to Krishna.

Meera pictured below as well as a figure of Krishna in the distance.

Surprsingly, we have our own Mira too. And if we're comparing Zios to Krishna, this relationship makes alot of sense. Meera was in love with Krishna, and Mira was in love with Zios. "In her last years, Meera lived in Dwarka or Vrindavan, where legends state she miraculously disappeared by merging into an idol of Krishna in 1547. While miracles are contested by scholars for the lack of historical evidence, it is widely acknowledged that Meera dedicated her life to Lord Krishna, composing songs of devotion and was one of the most important poet-saint of the Bhakti movement period." That paragraph was taken from Meera's Wikipedia entry, and relates alot to the story of Mira and Zios. Its said that Meera one day miraculously dissappeared just like Zios did and they only things she left behind were her poems, music, and of course, her devotion and husband-like considered relationship between her and Krishna.

Krishna pictured below.

Most of Meera's poems are dedicated to God in the form of Krishna, calling him the Dark One or the Mountain Lifter. "Some Meera songs include Radha, the lover of Krishna, and her jealousy and hatred for them. All her poems have philosophical connotations, mainly centered around Krishna."

The "Dark One" and "Mountain Lifter" terms are certaintly strange. Why would somebody refer to a "Dark One" in such a loving term?

Lets not forget the example of Zios not only representing the light in most cases, but spiritually, representing the dark. There's alot of evidence to actually suggest instead of the common thought that Zios represents the Sun and Mira the Moon, it may actually be the vice versa in a yin yang sort of way. Light and Dark cannot coexist without eachother and Zios and Mira are a great example of that.

I may explain the Zios is the moon thing a different time but you're going to have to roll with me here on this one... Zios is a perfect representation of the dark. Dark gives space and life to the light, but of course light always gives life to the dark.

Also, "Mountain-Bearer"... Not much to say here. Quite literally what Zios did to create Jamaa. "In her poems, Krishna is a yogi and lover, and she herself is a yogini ready to take her place by his side into a spiritual marital bliss. Meera's style combines impassioned mood, defiance, longing, anticipation, joy and ecstasy of union, always centred on Krishna."

Let's take a look at perhaps the most well known poem by Meera... And perhaps the one that relates the most to Jamaasian Lore. I am aware Julian2 has covered this in a video before, but here im going to take a proper analysis.

My Dark One has gone to an alien land. He has left me behind, he's never returned, he's never sent me a single word. So I've stripped off my ornaments, jewels and adornments, cut my hair from my head. And put on holy garments, all on his account, seeking him in all four directions. Mira: unless she meets the Dark One, her Lord, she doesn't even want to live.

— Mira Bai, Translated by John Stratton Hawley

Alot to process here. Let's see what we can compare.

●"My Dark One has gone to an Alien Land"-  Zios= Krishna: has gone to the realm of the phantoms/alien land

●"He's left me behind, he's never returned, he's never sent me a single word"- Exactly what Zios did. Never responded to Mira and didn't speak to her again after his dissappearance.

●"So I've stripped off my ornaments, jewels and adornments, cut my hair from my head"- Julian2 suggested this may be about Peck running away but this has been outdated. This could possibly refer to the "jewels and adornments" being the Alpha stones as Mira gives them away.

●"And put on holy garments, all on his account, seeking him in all four directions."- This refers to Mira yet again giving the alphas their Alpha Stones and after that she prepares to go out and find Zios.

●"Meera: unless she meets the Dark One, her Lord, she doesn't even want to live."- Unless Mira doesn't meet her Dark One- in this case, Zios-she doesn't feel the will to live, referencing her sorrow and despair without him.

I'm not sure about you, but I'm very convinced AJHQ may have based their lore on this poem specifically.

There is another poem that can relate to the legend of Jamaa, but there's not much to infer. I'm not going to do a thorough line by line analysis, but hopefully looking back on the analysis I just did you can atleast gather some stuff.

After making me fall for you so hard, where are you going? Until the day I see you, no repose: my life, like a fish washed on shore, flails in agony. For your sake I'll make myself a yogini, I'll hurl myself to death on the saw of Kashi. Mira's Lord is the clever Mountain Lifter, and I am his, a slave to his lotus feet.

"Meera speaks of a personal relationship with Krishna as her lover, lord and mountain lifter. (Sanson Ki Mala Pe Simru Main Pi Ka Naam) is written by Meera Bai Shows her dedication towards Lord Krishna. The characteristic of her poetry is complete surrender." -Quote from Wikipedia

The song of Sanson Ki Mala Pe Simru Main Pi Ka Naam is an interesting one-referring to her "beading the name of her beloved on the garland of my breaths". Interestingly, this song refers to Krishna as a Cuckoo Bird- A little bit of a crack theory, but this may suggest Zios could actually be the same behind that mask of his?

Examples of this bird-referring lyric are this quote from that same song:

"He is a melodious bird

He is a magnificent man

This foolish girl has taken

The beloved’s heart as the Lord"

I will link the full song plus English translation below!

https://www.google.com/amp/s/ekta25.wordpress.com/2011/06/23/sanson-ki-mala-pe-simroon-main-pi-ka-naam-on-the-garland-of-my-breaths-i-have-bejewelled-my-beloveds-name/amp/

Intresting... Perhaps Zios IS some sort of bird!

In conclusion, Mirabai's poetry, devotion and songs have alot of connections to Jamaasian Lore! I find this interesting, but this did help us gather quite a bit of information!