#I don’t want to sacrifice my humanity to find more ways to spill blood

[soundsofastar]

rant ab the tech industry in the tags read if u want

[wizzard890]

So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings. 

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is. 

Like, let’s go down the list here. 

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals? 

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene? 

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated! 

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible. 

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)

[cripplemagics]

Tired

Summary: A snippet of writing describing Jay’s first time meeting Elias after he escapes, as well as the immediate aftermath.  triggers: blood, language, general creepy guy vibes (Elias is the creepy guy vibing here) mentions/implications of human sacrifices. 

Jay finds themself about to hyperventilate. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up as they walk between rooms. This building’s abandoned, yet they sense remnants of magic, dark and grotesque magic. Elias is here. They recognize the gnawing sensation along their spine. It takes everything they have to not turn and run. Lucas and the other agents are outside, waiting for any sign of danger. But Jay knows Elias will do everything to keep them from signaling for help. That’s why they have their knife and several spells they’ve learned since Elias was imprisoned. If he doesn’t know that they have the spell, he won’t be able to counter it. Or that’s what they hope.

None of the rooms show signs of being lived in. While old graffiti paints the walls, there’s no mattresses or lanterns or anything else. At least it’s that way until Jay walks into the room farthest from the entrance. Immediately the air’s knocked out of them by the smell of charred flesh. When they manage to get their breathing stable it’s only to feel their throat close in terror at the sight before them. A pile of several burned and mutilated bodies sit before a makeshift altar. Across the top a flask lays sideways, spilling what they only hope is wine or some similar red drink. There’s a dirty and matted long lock of hair, the color indiscernible. Jay gets the awful feeling it’s blonde beneath the layer of dirt. The last thing laid out is the picture of them that Lucky lost in the move. Runes frame their body. An old icon stands on the altar as well, the image too obscene and twisted for them to describe. However they know who it is. Tiranagu, the corrupt sorcerer who turned himself into incorporeal magic to live forever. The magic that possessed Elias years ago.

“I would’ve had more if you hadn’t run, you know.” Jay has a hand on their knife when they whirl around to see Elias in the doorway. He blocks their exit, blood covered arms stretched to lean against the door frame. They can’t help but notice how clean his clothes are, and it irks them.

“All this time in prison and you’re still anal about your clothes getting blood on them?” They’re not going to let him actually talk about why either of them are here. Maybe if they stall long enough the agents outside will pick up on the situation and come in anyway.

“I wanted to look nice for our reunion Jay! Is that such a bad thing?” Elias relaxes his arms, giving Jay a second to see the magic crackling around his fingers. “Besides, blood feels so much better on the skin than it does on fabric. It’s far more visceral and sensual, don’t you agree?”

“To put it simply? No,” Jay can’t help but grimace. “You’re gross and blood is gross. Do you have any idea how many diseases you could get from it? You could die!” Not that they mind the idea of that. Elias grins, a sure sign they said the wrong thing.

“I’m glad you care so much about my wellbeing, Little Bird.”

“It’s more that I’m surprised you forgot everything I taught you about the risks of blood magic. I thought you were smarter,” Jay snarks. “Don’t fucking come near me with all that on you! Do you have any idea what you’ve done anyway? Before, you at least wouldn’t murder anyone. But now you’re sacrificing people?!” They stop, hands now grasping at the hem of their shirt and twisting it. Honestly the thought about Elias sacrificing people to become more powerful is just now settling in. It makes them sick. Their heart’s racing, body thrown fully into flight or fight, except they’ve chosen to freeze.

“All for you, I promise.” Elias’s words are enough for Jay to start shaking.

This is bad, it’s time to get help. Just get to the hallway and scream.

“Jay, pay attention now. I don’t need you dissociating on me again. This is an important occasion after all.” Their eyes snap up to meet his gaze. They’re angry now and their lips are set in a defiant scowl.

“No, shut up.”

“What?” Jay would be lying if they said they didn’t relish the confused look on Elias’s face. “Baby, did you just-”

“Yes, I did just tell you to shut up. And you forgot: I’m not yours. Which means I’m not your baby.” A silent spell roars through their mind and in an instant Jay lurches out into the hallway behind Elias. They barely register a curse from him as they forego any regard for safety. Bolting down the hall they scream for Lucas to give the signal. Bad, bad, bad; what spell should I use? What can I use? Focus. No, panic! Get to safety! Find people! Go, go, go!

Jay stumbles into harsh sunlight, still screaming when someone scoops them up. “No! Get off me! I’m not gonna let you do this-”

“Holden!” It’s Lucas. “Breathe, I promise I’m not going to do anything bad.” Jay found themself trembling intensely but they manage to take deep breaths. People storm the building as they let Lucas gently pull them away to a truck set up as HQ. Cool air does nothing to calm the sting of their flushed cheeks, but it does relax their muscles. Serenity’s waiting in the door for them. The dog goes to their side without hesitation, grateful to see them unharmed. Jay’s grateful to be out of the heat, but they’re disappointed. “I botched the mission.” Lucas lets them go so they can sit. “Hey, no you didn’t. We knew going in that he most likely wasn’t going to be caught today.” “I panicked!” Jay protests. “He got under my skin again. I let him get under my skin.” They look to Lucas for an extended reprimand, but he’s too busy filling a cup with water to say much. “Hasn’t therapy taught you that healing isn’t linear? You got triggered today in a way you didn’t think you’d ever have to deal with again.” He hands them the cup. “No one’s going to hold this against you. If you want to debrief now, you can. But if you need to cool off then we can wait.” Jay sips the water, noticing a camera feed that shows the other agents bringing out the corpses. “He killed more people. They were sacrifices. That’s what unnerved me Lucas,” Jay gulps. “He’s getting worse again.” They don’t want to drink again. Water’s too much for their system in this state of panic. Nausea already twists their stomach. “I’m out of ideas.” “It’s not your job to come up with ideas Holden. It never was.” “I know! I --” Feel helpless, like I can’t do anything right, as if I’m never  going to solve this problem because all I do is make it worse. “I’m tired.” They feel Lucas’s gaze soften. It’s an uncanny ability that comes from the heightened senses of a person in crisis. Fear taints their soul like a mold spore taking root on food. Something has to change, or they’ll be susceptible to Elias’s magic again. “Then it’s time to get you off site.” Lucas holds out their backpack and their cane. “I’m not about to make you wait while the others search the scene. You’ve done more than your share of work.” “Geeze, thanks,” Jay can’t help the sarcasm dripping from their lips. They take their things, slipping a hand through the loop on Serenity’s leash once standing up. “You guys could pay me, y’know. That’d help a tiny bit when it comes to this whole situation. I’m easily doing three times more than most of the agents on your payroll.”

[sadnesslaughs]

You got abducted by cultists as you were heading to a restaurant for your date. After two days, the cultists have started a ritual, attempting to offer your soul up to a demon for power. But as the demon appears, it turns out that the demon they tried to offer your soul to is your girlfriend.

“Oh, come on. She’s already way out of my league. She’s like no one I’ve ever met before. It’s like she’s from another world. If I don’t show up for our date, she might leave me.” Alan said, squirming in his restraints. He didn’t stop squirming until a cultist whacked him over the back of the head, tilting the potato sack he had covering him.

“Shut up. It’s girlfriend this and girlfriend that. You’re the noisiest sacrifice we’ve ever had.” Abigail said, scoffing at the man restrained on the chair. She couldn’t help being a tad jealous. How frustrating it was to see someone so madly in love. Even her own love for their demonic queen would fall short of this man’s devotion to his gf. She went to whack him again, only for Billy to grab her wrist.

“Easy, our queen will be here soon. She doesn’t like her meals bruised. No one likes battered meat or something like that.” When Abigail lowered her arm, Billy moved to lean against the closest wall. Billy watching the summoning circle, which had been beautifully drawn in blood. The symbols written with focused precision. Even the moon symbol had a lot of love put into it, a few dotted stars appearing beside it.

“Big turn out this one. Our goddess is making it big. Think she will give us her gift now?” Brent asked, only to get shushed by the other two.

The demonic circle sparked to life, draining the soul from a poor cultist that happened to be standing a little too close to it. The newbie not realizing that every demonic summoning required a cult member to die. That member being the closest one to the circle. Something that the elder members of the group never told the new initiates. Not wanting to start an argument over who should be the one to die.

“I am Xaliq, the goddesses of death and carnage. You best have brought me a worthy sacrifice, as I have a rage that could make the heavens cry out in submission.” Those words caused the weaker willed cult members to drop to their knees. The members rubbing their faces against the ground, hoping to ignore her wrath.

Purple flames drifted from Xaliq, her appearance more reptilian than demonic. Xaliq’s nose was flat with two eyes that were missing their eyelids. Those fanged teeth poking out the edges of her mouth, her lips unable to fit them all inside. She hunched over as she walked, lowering her height to eight feet. When she approached the chair, she dragged a finger along the chest of her victim, only to pause.

“Where did you find this one?” The demon asked.

“You spoke to us? I’m so honoured. I love you, my demonic goddess. I would do anything for you and MMMMPH.” A clawed hand wrapped around the mouth of Abigail. Those cold demonic eyes staring her down.

“WHERE. DID. YOU. FIND. HIM?” The heat in the room became unbearable. The cult members near the summoning circle passing out from its intensity. When Xaliq released her fingers, Abigail spoke.

“Near Henry’s hungry bite. That crappy little burger place.”

“I quite like that place. It serves drinks with little umbrellas. My girlfriend loves it when I hold the umbrella over her head and say. Just in case it rains. It makes her laugh every time.” Alan smiled, wishing he could see this fascinating conversation that was happening in front of him.

“ENOUGH ABOUT YOUR GIRLFRIEND. Speaking about stupid human emotions is dumb.”

“Didn’t ya speak about emotions to the goddess?” Brent said.

“It’s not the same. My love is pure. Not whatever primal feelings this idiot has. I’m going to spill his blood.” Abigail reached for the knife in her robes, only to get stopped by the claw again. This time, it twisted her wrist until she dropped the blade.

“If you spill even a drop of his blood, I’ll spill yours for eternity. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes. Yes, my goddess.” Abigail bowed, wondering what she could have done to upset her goddess.

“Um. Alan, sweetie. It’s me. Are you ok? No one hurt you or anything?” Xaliq stared at Abigail. Alan’s next words going to determine what happened to her. Abigail shivered, wondering if she should run. Not that she could outrun a demon, even if she tried.

“Oh, not at all. I think I bumped my head at some point. Sorry about missing our date. I got pulled into a car by these lovely people. Is this some sort of dinner in the dark? Oh, or is it a show?”

Xaliq returned to her human form. At least she tried to. It was hard to remove your features so quickly. Those rounded horns still poking out as she pulled the potato sack off. Xaliq smiling when she saw her boyfriend’s beautiful face. “Oh, honey you were-“

“Um, goddess. You still have your….” Billy pointed to his head, tapping where the horns were on Xaliq. The demon glared at him for interrupting the moment, only to freeze when she ran a hand through her hair.

“Honey. Yes, this is a show. Do you remember when I told you that our lives could use a bit of spice? This is it. You’re my demon servant. Rawr.” She muttered that last part, feeling embarrassed about all of this. Alan stared at his girlfriend, then at the group of cultists who looked equally befuddled. Most having only recently woken up after passing out. After thinking it over, he nodded.

“I thought you meant a new restaurant. Not this. Your costumes amazing, though. Where did you get it?” He went to touch her horn, forgetting he was in restraints. Xaliq leant down, making sure his eyes were on her before she cut the rope with a sharp nail. The nail retracting after the cut.

“I made the costume. Sorry, this was a little too much, wasn’t it? How about we try another restaurant and forget about this?”

“Another restaurant? Oh.” Alan frowned, disappointed he was going to miss out on two for one burger night. The best day of the week, in his opinion.

“Although it would take a long time to find another restaurant. Let’s go back to our old faithful one. Come on.” She beamed, helping her boyfriend up. She hugged his side, ushering him towards the backdoor of the home. Xaliq trying to keep his gaze away from the bloody summoning circle. “Clean this place up. Remember, you’re my actors. So, it’s your job to make sure this place is cleaned up.” Once outside, she let Alan call a taxi. She made an excuse about forgetting her bag, quickly going back inside.

“Are you dating a human? Is there some trickery to this?” Abigail asked.

“I am. There’s no trickery involved. I planned to take his soul one night, and he proved too pure for my demonic charms. I’ve never found a soul I couldn’t steal. So, I studied him and eventually fell in love with him.” She blushed, holding a hand to her cheek.

“I’m happy for you. Does that mean we don’t need to sacrifice people anymore?” Billy questioned.

“No, I still hunger for souls and power. I’ll give you my schedule next time you summon me. So, you know when not to interrupt me.” Before they could respond, she vanished, leaving them alone.

“They're pretty cute together.” Billy waved at the door, assuming their queen had teleported outside.

“I wish she loved me instead.” Abigail howled.

“What do we tell da others?” Brent pointed to the new initiates, who had no idea what they had witnessed. Each mumbling to themselves.

“I’ll sort them out. You two get cleaning.” Abigail walked over to the initiates, making sure they kept quiet about this, while Brent and Billy began clean up duty.

[illusionsofdreaming]

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

[red-talisman]

An unbetaed snippet of post-CQL canon Yunmeng reconciliation, which is mostly extremely morbid and blunt conversation after beating each other hard enough that they’re too tired for their usual conflicting modes of emotional avoidance.

EDIT: now edited and posted on AO3. :D

CW for past suicidal ideation. Part of my “let WWX express some of his cynical humor and creepiness more often” and “let WWX find out about JC’s own sacrifice goddamnit” agendas.

___________________

Jiang Cheng stares blankly into the trees, their trunks slowly disappearing in the deepening darkness of twilight. Wei Wuxian’s back is warm against his and heaving for breath just as heavily. He thinks his ankle might be broken, but Wei Wuxian is probably worse off.

“You’re an asshole,” Wei Wuxian says thickly.

“Hypocrite,” Jiang Cheng mutters without heat, and Wei Wuxian manages a snort between his gasps.

“Yeah.” After a moment, he adds, with an echo of the old Yiling Laozu in his voice, “You know that if you ever do something like that again, I’ll probably find a way to do something worse than I did before.”

“If I do what, save your life by pulling the same fucking sacrificial shit that you do?”

“I swear to every god out there that I will bring you back as a fierce corpse and kill you myself,” Wei Wuxian says in a pleasant, albeit still somewhat breathless, tone. “I will dismember your carcass and make Jin Guangyao look like a fucking amateur.”

“Good thing Mo Xuanyu’s core isn’t worth shit, then,” Jiang Cheng replies. All of his attention is focused on the feeling of his brother’s bones and muscles moving against his own spine.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause. Somewhere distant Jiang Cheng hears the panicked yells of what’s probably the juniors they left behind a few li back. Then Wei Wuxian sighs. “We’re really fucked up.”

Jiang Cheng takes his time considering and discarding several possible responses. His ankle hurts like a bitch; Mo Xuanyu’s core may not be worth shit, but damn if his asshole genius brother hasn’t figured out how to make the most of it anyway. He finally settles on a tired, “Yeah.”

The silence stretches on long enough that Wei Wuxian goes on, more quietly, “You and Shijie are the only reason I didn’t die in the Burial Mounds. The Wens grabbed me before I knew whether or not you’d even survived the core transfer.”

Jiang Cheng tilts his head just enough to glance briefly over his shoulder. “How did you survive the Burial Mounds?”

“Nope, no, I’m not putting that on you. Not even Lan Zhan knows. I can’t...I can’t do that.”

“Fine. Then tell me, is any of it going to come back and bite us in the ass at the worst possible moment?” he asks dryly.

Wei Wuxian snorts, humorless. “Nah. It’s all mine.”

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?”

When Wei Wuxian hesitates for a few telling seconds, Jiang Cheng mutters, “You fucking asshole.”

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian sighs again.

“You left me.”

“You didn’t need me.”

“Who the fuck said that?”

The knobs of Wei Wuxian’s spine are starting to press painfully into Jiang Cheng’s. Wei Wuxian snorts. “I was practically a fierce corpse myself when I dragged myself out of the Burial Mounds. Your position as sect leader was too precarious,” he says bluntly. “You were seventeen years old with no real family, a sister who was getting married off anyway, and an adopted brother who’d been controversial years before the war even happened and who was clearly half-mad and getting worse. And I...my mind never really left the Mounds, honestly.” He coughs, makes a wet sound, and spits. “If I stayed much longer I was going to end up dragging you back into Hell with me. I was a risk you couldn’t afford and I wasn’t going to destroy Yunmeng Jiang a second time.”

"Don’t pull that bullshit, Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng is so, so tired. “Mother was wrong. You know Wen Chao was looking for any excuse. You’re as responsible for that as our shidi was for using a round kite.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t respond. Jiang Cheng makes a mental note to beat that nonsense out of him in the future, when he can lift his arms again and his ankle isn’t most likely broken.

But Jiang Cheng remembers what it was like to try turning weapons, human and sword alike, into tools of peace. There are still whole weeks of the Sunshot Campaign that are just smears of sense-memory: the cacophony of screams and curses; the reek of mass funeral pyres and the soft ash drifting through the air like black, silent snow; the startling warmth of being suddenly drenched in blood after Sandu sliced open another living human. Half the time he’d come back to himself laughing hysterically, unable to see anything through the tears on his face, and as the war dragged on, the tears eventually dried up. It had taken months afterwards to settle into the mindset of rebuilding for Lotus Pier. (If he’s honest with himself, he never really did settle there. There's always a part of him still dragging itself through mud made by blood spilled on battlefields and churned up by soldiers' boots.)

“Jin Ling’s the only reason I never actually killed myself after you died,” Jiang Cheng says. “...Don’t you ever tell him that.”

“Wait, what?” Wei Wuxian snaps.

“You saying I would’ve died without a core - it was never about not having a core, you idiot, not really.” Not to say that hadn’t hurt, and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t know how he would’ve managed life as a commoner. But there were still worse things to lose than a core, which had also just lost and was about to lose yet again. “I had a few ideas on how to do it, depending on where I was and what was available when I decided I might as well get it over with.” He huffs a brief laugh and idly rubs his thumb over Sandu’s hilt. “I thought poison might be a good option, if a little heavy-handed on the metaphor.”

“I’d be laughing,” Wei Wuxian says flatly, “if you weren’t talking about killing my little brother.”

“Am I?”

“You never stopped.”

The silhouettes of the trees start to blur in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “You left. You left, and everyone died, and somehow I was responsible for keeping our sister’s baby alive while the wolves tried to eat what remained of our sect from every direction. You left.”

“I never wanted to.”

“But you did.”

“Because I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe.”

“Because you chose strangers over family.”

“Because I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe,” Wei Wuxian hisses. Apparently they’re not so exhausted that they can’t get pissed after all. “I was hardly human anymore, Jiang Cheng. If I was going to die, then at least I’d die actually managing to save innocent people this time around and you would be safe from me.”

“I never wanted you to do that for me!”

“And I never wanted you to do that for me!”

The tension that had them both struggling to sit up straight suddenly breaks, and their backs collide again. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth against the urge to groan over the pain that ricochets through his chest and down his limbs. He hears a muffled yelp from behind him.

“You’re a damned fucking asshole and you’re my fucking brother and I hate you and don’t you ever assume you know what I need again, do you understand me,” snarls Jiang Cheng.

“You’re the damned fucking asshole and if you ever do that again then I will brand a reminder into your flesh right over the scar from the discipline whip,” Wei Wuxian snaps back, because he's never held back from fighting dirty if he thought it necessary.

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

They both stare into the dark forest, in opposite directions. It sounds like the juniors have finally picked up their tracks. Useless, the whole lot - Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hadn't exactly been subtle in stepping aside for a private conversation that inevitably escalated, how could it take the kids this long?

"Those dumbasses had better not forget that we're on a night-hunt," he says.

"Like we did?" Wei Wuxian replies.

"You started it."

"Did not."

"No, I'm not doing this with you."

"Hey, you started this one."

"Shut the fuck up."

They fall silent again. A cold breeze picks up and Jiang Cheng feels Wei Wuxian shiver, pressing back just a little more firmly against Jiang Cheng for warmth, and he...leans back too. Just a little.

"I'm still fucking pissed at you," says Wei Wuxian.

"And I've got years' worth to pay you back for," says Jiang Cheng.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Sect Leader Jiang!" they hear. "Senior Wei!"

"If you don't show up for the mid-autumn festival," Jiang Cheng suddenly says, "I'll come drag you out of the Cloud Recesses by the heels."

"But the dogs - "

"Don't be an idiot. Jin Ling's dog is the only one allowed in Lotus Pier, you know that."

Well, come to think of it, Wei Wuxian probably doesn't know that, but whatever, now he does. Wei Wuxian is terrifyingly silent, but before Jiang Cheng can say something that will inevitably bring them back to throwing fists, he hears a quiet, "Yeah, okay."

"Do you think they killed each other?" they hear Lan Jingyi asking loudly. "I mean, Sandu Shengshou versus the Yiling Patriarch - who would win?"

"Don't be an idiot," retorts Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian's body briefly shakes with a laugh. "My uncle, obviously."

"They're both your uncle, idiot!"

Jiang Cheng just sighs and lets his head fall back against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

[serendipitous-posts]

Sacrifice you for nothing

Tubbo and Ranboo get a history lesson

title from Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat

"Damn" Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. "That chandelier really is fighting you every step of the way, huh?"

"And it's winning" Ranboo adds.

Foolish, hanging from the ceiling as he fixes the corner piece, glares down at him. "It is not winning" he hisses "I won't let it win." That declaration would have been a lot more solid had he not squeaked as the chandelier rocked dangerously.

If that fell and broke he would actually lose it.

Tubbo has no mercy for him. "You must hate that chandelier right now" he mocks "must be your least favourite thing in the world."

 "Nah" Foolish grips a small chunk of gold carefully in his teeth to avoid breaking it "that would be cults" he mumbles. There's a brief bit of quiet below and then;

 "Oh yeah, I heard that the Eggpire wrecked your buildings or something."

 Chandelier finally fixed (for now) Foolish drops to the floor, a fall that would have shattered anyone elses ankles but just leaves him slightly winded. "Nah" he says "I've run into cults before; one's way worse than this one."

 "Worse?!" Ranboo exclaims "worse than the parasitic chicken embryo?!"

 "Far worse" Foolish confirms body language completely relaxed despite such a dark topic

 (but outside the seas begin to froth and bubbles, rapids forming and pushing and pulling, crashing against teeth sharp rocks and punching away at the cliffs surrounding it.)

 "they seem to keep popping up wherever I go. I-

 (hate them hates them with everything he is and everything he is supposed to be divine blood in his body but he can't save them can't protect everyone can't heal everything some things can't be reversed)

 "really don't like them. They suck."

(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry, I can take your broken pieces and stitch them back, back together and it won't be the same but it will be similar and that is all I can give you)

 (the totem in Ranboo's back pocket begins to burn)

 "I'll say" Tubbo agrees, then, with childlike curiosity and teenage macabre "which one would would you say is the worst?"

  Foolish falls still.

(the sea falls still. the totems stop burning.)

 (it is somehow worse)

 "Probably the one made for me" he says at last.

 The story goes like this; there's a village that prays to him daily. It's not that uncommon really; he's the God of the Ocean and the Undead. People pray to him for safe passage on the seas or to help them find a totem.

 But the people in this village are- to put it bluntly- really fucking annoying.

 It's not uncommon for people without totems to pray to him for hours on end, begging him to revive their loved ones, but these guys have turned it into an art form, any and all hours of the day, banging around in his head.

 And when words don't work, they turn to physical ways to show their devotion to their God. 

 Silly little mortals, trying to gain his favour with dead animals and trinkets, trying to gain his favour. He already gave them a way to cheat death, all they have to do is grab a totem. Why do they want another?

 They have all they need to survive. He painstakingly carved those totems. He will not give too much of himself.

 (lord foolish please my mother is gone i want her back lord foolish you can bring my husband back lord foolish fix this fix her i know you can)

 So he ignores the animal sacrifices and the pretty trinkets offered to him in exchange for reviving a daughter, a son, a wife, a husband. He cannot revive the long dead, he learned that a long time ago.

 The only real bearable one in the village is the child, and he doesn't even think the child knows what he is the God of, really, which is odd considering the inordinate amount of statues in the town. Whenever the child prays to Foolish, it's never about a dead loved one or the sea, it's always about what the child did that day. Foolish feels more like a diary than a God in those moments.

 And at least that's interesting

 (mister foolish i learned how to spell flower the other day f-l-o-u-u-e-r mister foolish i saw a dead cat on the side of the road the other day)

 (mister foolish are you ever lonely)

 The humans grow more and more frustrated with his complete and utter radio silence, and while he's out their festivals to him grow more and more complex, the animals growing bigger, rarer, more impressive.

 (i offer you this ender dragon egg this elytra this nether star this emerald ore this music disc)

 He's not gonna lie; the person who built that beautiful cottage had him for a solid minute.

 But he's not really paying attention to any of that; he's not the only God to have festivals and sacrifices in his name. Definitely not gonna be the last.

 (what do we have to do to bring back our loved ones?)

 He's just happy to build.

 Bargaining is a stage of grief, but so is acceptance, and they must learn to accept this.

 (except their not accepting it, the town is just growing angrier, more desperate, going bigger and bigger, hunting animals around them to extinction.)

 The first time they kill a human, he's pretty sure it's an accident. An old man, long past his time, probably just died from shock or disease.

 They put his body on the altar and offer him up to him, not to revive but as a sacrifice. He arrives, cloaked in illusions as thick as the fog around the town. He still sees Death though, watching sedately from where she's sitting on the wall, her angel beside her.

 They're gone in the next moment.

 The town never buries the old man, keeps him on the altar, and, after three days, Foolish takes him, takes him far away to an old field and buries him there.

 (the leader of the town finds the missing body and smiles. their god has accepted their gift)

 He hopes it's a one time thing

 (because what did they do to that man how could they these humans these ants small and painfully easy to kill but flocking together working together how could they turn on one of their own)

 (because what would he do then?)

 (after the man disappears from the altar, the child prays to him again, telling him the man's name, and how he once stopped the child from getting a rash from poisonous flowers. he liked violets the child tells him)

 (maybe the child really does know what he's the god of. maybe the child's just lonely.)

 He doesn't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe they saw the child trying to make conversation with a God instead of praying to one. Maybe the child, in the way all children are, said something controversial, maybe about the man who was left on the altar to rot.

 Maybe, maybe, maybe.

 He isn't there when the child is dragged out onto the streets, and dumped at the feet of the altar in front of the whole town, trembling and shaking. And the child is a child but is no fool, has seen the sacrifices has seen what has happened, and does what any scared child will do-try to run.

 And at the same time the child tried to back away, the leader swung his sword, and the whole town watched as the child screamed, eyes bloodied and slashed from the blade. 

 (he had been aiming for the neck)

 (not a fighter, that leader)

 "A life for a life!" The leader exclaimed and swung again.

 (the child collapsed on the floor and the crowd pressed in, eager to watch as they choked and gagged on the blood spilling out of their torn open throat, arms scrabbling into the ground like a beetle like a cockroach like an ant whose colony had turned on it)

 And- and then-

 And at the same time the child tried to back away and the leader swung his sword, the child had had one last panicked, desperate thought.

 (mister foolish, they're gonna kill me)

 And at the same time-

 And at the same time the leader slit the child's throat, a golden clawed hand grabbed him by his.

 "So yeah" Foolish says. "Cults are, like, the worst."

 Ranboo and Tubbo continue to stare at him. "Uh" Ranboo says, then promptly stops talking.

 "Did you . . kill them?" 

 He nods, bouncing on his feet a little. "Yeah" he smiles "good times."

 The two teenagers both look like they don't know what to do with that.

 "Well, at least they deserved it" Tubbo offers up attentively, and Ranboo nods

 "Can't believe they executed a child. Nobody deserves to die like that" Ranboo mutters and Tubbo winces beside him.

 "Y-yeah" Tubbo agrees nervously, twining his hands together "that poor kid. Hope it was peaceful."

 Foolish blinks at them. "Wait, what?" Then he replays their entire conversation and laughs.

 "Laughing at a kid's death" Ranboo notes, before turning to Tubbo "why are we letting him near Michael again."

 "No, no" Foolish waves his hands "you misunderstood me; the child didn't die."

 "You guys do remember I'm the God of Undying, right?" He raises an eyebrow at them both. "I healed the kid's neck wound right up." Ranboo just blinks at him in that slightly unsettling way that only an enderman can do.

 "I thought you didn't revive people personally."

 Foolish glances outside, past the both of them. "This was different" he says "this was-"

 (my fault my fault i turned a blind eye i could have stopped this sooner you choked and gagged and cried out for anyone to save you but in the end the motivation for your murder had to step in.)

 "-an exception."

 "Good for you!" Tubbo cheers, shooting his hands in the air vehemently "the whole stinking town is gone and you and the child lived!"

 Foolish makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Except the other towns had heard about the towns rituals. And it began to spread."

 Tubbo's hands drop. "Oh."

 "Yeah" he agrees "oh. But the worst part was the damage done to the child."

 "Let me guess" Ranboo says, dry as Egypt. "Traumatised?"

 "To put it mildly."

 (the child had turned blind eyes towards him, and when he had reached out to grasp the pudgy hand it had recoiled, the small body curling up away from him and he had burned)

 (the child hadn't seen or felt the tsunami that destroyed the entire town. but the screams- they had ears)

 "But uh" he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot "not just that. I'm the God of Undying, so I can heal other's mortal injuries."

 A long pause.

 "Their mortal injuries" he repeats.

 "Oh!" Tubbo jerks back "oh God! The child's eyes-"

 "I healed them" he says, then winces "tried to heal them" he corrects. Better. "But uh, because they weren't fatal they weren't exactly, uh, restored."

 (the mirror is broken and the cracks will show even when it's put back together and you'll never see the same way again my fault my fault i'm sorry i'm so so so sorry)

(this is all i can give you i am so sorry only child lonely child i cant take all you pain away but i promise you here and now you will be lonely no more)

"Damn." The closest Ranboo will ever get to a swear.

 "It gets worse" Foolish chirps "the other towns found out that a child had been blessed by the Totem God himself. Were very interested in what exactly this child could do."

 A long pause.

 Then. "Cults" Ranboo says faintly.

 "Cults" Foolish agrees cheerfully, thinking of a child screaming in agony with bloodstained eyes and a gashed throat as others looked on, indifferent.

 Cults Foolish thinks grimly as that same child is dragged up to be executed by the Eggpire.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (more to come)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: October 2021

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: dead body/crime scene, blood and bite wounds talked about in detail, hypnosis/compelling someone to do something against their will, overall discussion of murder (basically what we see in every episode of the show))

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: Absolutely nothing you don’t already know, this is legit from the first chapter. Hotch is a Vampire (although the LEOs don’t really know that), Rossi is a priest, Morgan is so empathetically telepathic he can touch the auras in the air, and Reid is Reid. I know I’ve been giving you the juicy HotchReid stuff but here have some case stuff too, to see what you’re in for with the plot and everything. This is FIRST DRAFT so it’s terribly unpolished, first part is generalized POV (hence the more professional titles) and the second is within the team dynamics so they get more familiar. idk my first drafts are messy and indecisive, enjoy anyway. 💕)

–

They approach the body and Rainer shoos away his pestering, hovering officers and --- winces once again at the sight of the bloodied woman. “This is the third body in two days; a jogger found her about 6 am. Coroner says she thinks she’s been dead for about 6 hours; killed in the middle of the night, just like the others.” 

“Closer to five hours, I think,” Dr. Reid says, crouching down to look closer. All long legs and his gun looking too big on his belt next to his FBI badge. “Could still be within the Witching Hour, though.”

“Do you have accurate time of death estimates for the other two bodies?” Agent Morgan adds on, already picking up the train of thought Dr. Reid has started on. The detective pulls out an old-school flip notebook book and looks through it before answering.

“3:15am the first night, 9:30pm last night and now this.”

“Well that rules out hex, sacrifice, and spell gone wrong,” he concludes, as the other agents surround the body to inspect it from all angles. “So what are we thinking?”

“It’s a frenzied bite,” Agent Hotchner points out, looking from where he stands and not having to get as close as Dr. Reid to inspect it accurately. His eyesight is better than any microscope. “Shows multiple entries, it couldn’t get a good enough hold to rip her throat. Or she struggled, so it wasn’t strong enough to keep her pinned down.”

“The boys think it’s a Vamp,” Detective Rainer points out. “Maybe a baby one, still learning the ropes?”

“Vampire changes are regulated and no sire would allow whoever they turned to do this,” Agent Hotchner says, a colder flint to his voice that matches the way his dark stare cuts up to the detective. “No one has been turned in the United States in the past twelve years.”

“It’s not a Vampire bite,” Dr. Reid agrees, putting on latex gloves to further inspect the body and test the bite radius. “And it’s not a werewolf bite, either.”

“...Werewolf?” the detective says with a winded sound, eyes wide and looking to the three agents who didn’t even blink at the word. “There’s -- there’s such thing as werewolves?” 

“Detective, I think you should let my team and I work, we will come to you with our findings and then help you track down your killer.” Agent Hotchner doesn’t leave room for argument, his dark brown eyes looking pitch black in the early morning light, and Detective Rainer… suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to walk away. Like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t comply; he fights it, tries to fight it, and feels his will crumble beneath him like a sand bank giving way under his feet. He turns, even that small gesture lessening the pressure crushing his chest, and takes a step away from the group, air swept into his lungs like a riptide. He makes a hasty retreat after that, winded as if he just ran up a flight of stairs and the sweet taste of oxygen being his only reprieve. He doesn’t know what happened, and wouldn’t upon further inspection until much, much later.

-

“That wasn’t very nice, Hotch,” Rossi points out with a look of glib reprimand towards their team leader. “I thought compelling feeble minded beat cops was for those who have no skills to avoid it.”

“My patience was running thin, and we need to move faster on this case before our unsub kills again. He’s escalating.” That much is obvious, by the timeline alone, but Father Rossi still gives him a side-ways glance that says he finds far too much amusement in the undead’s antics. “Reid, are you sure it’s not a werewolf bite? It would explain the lack of control and precision.”

“I’m sure,” Reid says with finality, and no one makes a mention on why. He had done more research than any human possibly could in the past few months on werewolf transformation and the after effects of attacks. With what happened to one of their former agents mere months ago, no one doubted his newly learned expertise. “It’s also not a shifter, or a ghoul. We can rule out ghost and poltergeist as well, no residue or temperature shifts.” 

“Demon possession?” Morgan asks, looking to Rossi just as he does his customary Sign of the Cross at the mere mention. Can’t help the gesture, after his own past experiences. Giving anything the power of a name, even arbitrary, can be a dangerous thing. 

“We can’t rule it out,” he admits. “The teeth marks are human, someone possessed would still have a hard time biting that deep and doing that much damage. Cannibalism is only reserved for the amusements of level three demons, however they aren’t usually powerful enough to reach the mortal plane or take possession of someone’s body. They would need help.” 

“You really think someone would weaponize a demon like that?” 

“We’ve seen people do worse things, as has history, but I’d like to hope it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime.” 

“We need more information,” Hotch concludes, arms crossed and watching as Reid stands up and removes the blood stained gloves. “Morgan,” his gaze cuts to the tall man in his deep blue suit. “Can you walk the scene, tell us what you see?”

“Not with this many people around,” Morgan shakes his head, eyes glancing to every person within a twenty foot radius. “Too many readings, the aura field here looks like an oil spill. The only thing I can latch onto is…” his gaze is back on the ground, hovering over the dead woman, who would have no aura to speak of at all and therefore a blank canvas. He replaces Reid’s space, crouching down to touch the air over the bite wound. Fingers spread wide, less than a foot from her but not touching, palm suddenly curving as if over an invisible shoulder, the place where someone had once been not so long ago. It could have been the coroner, or the crime scene photographer, but with it being so close to the body -- chances were it was the unsub.

“They were crouched down, half on the ground, no… human thoughts that I can hear,” he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand glide through the air a little more, following the curve of someone’s spine and up their neck, resting where the head would be. “They have a fever burning them up, hot as a furnace--” he keeps his hand there too long, suddenly jerks it back as if it had physically burned him, then stands up again. Shaking off the aura reading still sticking to his fingers and the forefront of his mind. “Sound like anything you’ve heard of, pretty boy?” 

Reid shakes his head, sharing a glance with Father Rossi. “We might have to go through some of your demonology books.” The older man grins wide.

“You just want to get your hands on them, at this rate you’ll have them memorized by next week.” 

“Dave --” Hotch says slow, a reprimand of his own.

“Fine, fine, I’ll have Garcia send us some scans. If the Vatican knew I was putting a book like that in his hands they’d strip me of all my titles.”

“Didn’t they already do that?” Morgan teases with a grin.

“Ex-communicated. I got to keep the dog collar, the honorifics, bless the holy water, you know -- the party tricks.” 

–

((if you want to be apart of the taglist just hit me up via comment, reblog tag, DMs or asks 💕))

[detroitbecomeyandere]

I completely forgot about fantic Ralph in my supernatural/fairy tale au. He lives deep inside the forest in a long forgotten temple and spends anytime not spent not hunting is spent cleaning and restoring the place. He so desperately wants to appease his god and the best way to do so in his mind is blood sacrifice, obviously the animals he's been using aren't good enough so he sets his sights to something bigger.

He sets traps up all around his forest and just waits, one by one he traps hunters and travelers who've lost their way. And with every fail he falls deeper into his madness, the killings get more brutal, the bodies looking more like ground meat then a person. Every waking moment of his is consumed by rage, how could his god not recognize what he was doing? How could they just ignore him like this?

One evening he hears a scream of pain as another victim is trapped, he grabs his dagger and heads out. You're on the ground your leg mangled and covered in blood still caught in his trap. Through your tears you beg him for help and you are relived when he starts to pry the trap off of you, when the teeth release your leg your adrenaline rushes to your head making your world go black.

When you wake your arms are tied above your head on a cold stone alter, the room is dark save for the moon light filtering in from the hole in the ceiling. Every move you make twists your leg and shoots pain up your spine, the man from before enters the room with a large ceremonial dagger and his intentions are immediately clear. Despite the pain you start struggling praying to God that the ropes loosen or that he falls and impales himself, however you have now such luck when the ropes hold and he is standing over you.

"Stop your wiggling, everything has to be perfect and you are going to ruin it!"

Irritation is the only thing on in his eyes as he glares down at you and his yelling only makes your struggles worse. You weren't going to die like this, you can't. He pins your shoulder down as he raises the blade in the other and brings it down into your shoulder forcing your eyes closed as you start screaming. Ralph rips it your of your flesh and stares at the blood as it rolls off, no matter how many times he does this he'll never get tired of the sight. Setting the dagger down he pushes his finger into the wound and reveals in your screams. After another harsh jag your manage to jerk your body out of his grip and ripping the top half of your dress in the process exposing your breasts to him. He presses you flat to the stone and freezes, there on your shoulder was his god's symbol.

Finally after all this time his god has shown him favor, sending you to him to be his envoy on Earth. He drops the blade to the floor and his body follows suit as he begins to offer his thanks, he gets so focused he almost forgets you but then a sob brings him back to you. "Ralph is sorry my god, I did not know you were who you are. Punish me god, make me repent!" When you don't respond Ralph realizes that in this human form you are not as powerful and could not smite him as he deserves. He looks at your face and sees only agony, agony he caused his god. Perhaps if he replaced the pain with something else you would find it in your heart to forgive him.

"My lord please allow me to fix my transgressions, let me take care of you." He climbs over your damaged form and gently cups your heaving breasts, your blood covers one and makes it more appealing to him. Ralph massages them carefully and rolls your nipples between his fingers untill they have pebbled, he gazes at your face to gauge your reaction and find your eyes half lidded in what he mistakes as pleasure and not blood loss. Licking his lips he leans down and takes your bloodied nipple into his mouth and starts to swirl his tongue around it, your blood is better than anything he has ever had. Using his free hand he leans down and lifts your skirt to your waist and prods your entrance and is delighted at the moisture there. He pulls the front of his trousers down and starts to press his hard on past into your tight heat, his eyes roll backwards as he feels closer to heaven then he ever has. Despite being semi conscious state you feel everything Ralph is doing to you but have no power to stop it, you try to pull your hips away but only succeed in pulling him deeper inside you.

Ralph immediately sets a frantic pass rutting into you as if it's the last thing he'll ever do and even if you killed him after this he would die the happiest man on the planet. He releases your nipple with a noisy pop and latches on to the other one and suckles on it with the same enthusiasm. Your body heats up as a knot builds in your stomach and soft moans start to make their way out of you, Ralph is howling above you as he loses himself to you completely. Every thrust feels like he's stroking your womb and after a particularly hard thrust you clamp down on him and gush around his cock. Your eyes start to roll back and you start to fade as you come down from your climax, by the time Ralph cums inside you you're completely passed out.

With a sense of pride Ralph pulls himself out of you and watches his seed spill out of your still twitching cunt, warmth builds in him as he gazes down on you. All his hard work was finally rewarded, now he just had to keep proving himself worthy to you.

[samdeancass]

Us Against The World

Requested by: Anonymous with #80 from 200 Prompts List: "Let's run away together".

Pairing: Deke x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Deke, Y/N, Melinda, Daisy, Coulson, Mack, Fitz, Simmons

Words: 1571

Description: When Y/N is captured, Deke races against time to save them. The situation leads him to a sudden realisation.

Bullets were firing at you from all angles. Daisy was across the other side of the base fighting off other in humans. Melinda was down for the count behind you. Panic was beginning to take over your senses as your surroundings were closing in around you. You had no other choice but to surrender to the enemy. Either that, or they kill you. Putting your gun in your holster, you raised your hands up above your head in a surrendering position.

“Stop firing! I surrender! Take me but please leave my friends alone!” “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!” Dekes panicked voice came through the comms and your heart immediately sunk. You closed your eyes and blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. Two figures walked towards you and knocked you out with the butt of their gun, whilst another talked through their comms to alert the others of the situation.

One of them picked you up and carried you away towards their ship right before Daisy came running through the corridor. She began to send out blasts towards the enemies but she was too late. Her eyes went wide when she seen your unconscious body in their arms. “Y/N!” She began to run towards the ship but it took off right as she got to the entrance.

She looked around and seen May on the floor, unconscious. Racing to her side, Daisy placed her finger on her comms and sent out a message. “Guys, May’s down. I’ll bring her back with me but…. They’ve got Y/N.” Her head hng low as those last words came out of her mouth. She gathered May in her arms and carried her out of the base.

On the other side of the comms Deke was walking back and forth across the ships floor, the severity of the situation completely taking over his senses. “Why would Y/N give herself up like that? How could she let that happen to herself?!” He began raking his hands through his hair, frustration and panic evident on his face.

Coulson stepped forward and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she had a good reason for doing what she did. The main thing that we need to do now is find her and take out those HYDRA agents.” Deke nodded his head and took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed to keep a level head if he wanted to save you.

Daisy and May soon returned to the ship, a little battered and bruised, but they were OK. May had woken up and was raring to go, as usual. Coulson gathered the whole team and began to talk through the plan. Luckily, your suit had a tracking implant in it, so Fitz and Simmons easily found your location. The team gathered their gear whilst Mack flew the ship to your location.

As Deke was readying up, his thoughts began to wander. He didn’t want to live this life anymore, a life where you could easily get hurt, or worse. He wanted to keep you safe and protect you from the dangers of the world. He understood that you loved being able to save the world, but if this has taught him anything it’s that life is too precious. He wanted to make the most of his life with you. You are the most important thing to him and he wanted to keep you with him, always. Once he made his final decision, he marched towards Coulson and whispered the plan in his ear. Coulson looked Deke straight in his eyes with a disappointed look but also understanding why Deke was doing this.

With Coulson’s approval, Deke sat down and waited to march into battle to save the woman that he loved.

 

Screams erupted from your body as the agent pierced your skin once again. Wounds and bruises littered your skin as your torture continued. They wanted information on Coulson and SHIELD’s plans, but you were never going to give them what they wanted.

“WHERE IS COULSON?!” The agent twisted the knife that was lodged in your shoulder which caused you to whimper in pain. You took a deep breath to mask the pain and looked the agent dead in the eyes. “Go fuck yourself!” The agent raised his hand and slapped you across the face, causing your head to whip to the side. The agent marched back towards the tray of torture devices and grabbed a large pair of scissors and placed them against your fingers.

“Is your team really worth all this pain? Are you willing to lose your fingers for them?” “I’m willing to lose my life for them.” He began closing the scissor blades on your finger, streams of blood erupting from your skin, however gunfire interrupted his concentration and he whipped around to the sound of the commotion. “This isn’t over.” He rammed your gag back into your mouth and ran towards the entrance of the room, gun cocked towards the door.

The doors flew open and in walked Daisy and Deke. Daisy took care of the agent whilst Deke ran straight over to you, guilt all over his face. “Oh baby, what did they do to you?” He took the gag out of your mouth and cradled your face with his hands. You leaned into his touch and let out the tears that you had been holding on to.

Deke leaned his forehead against yours and kissed your lips softly. “You’re ok now, we’re here. I’m here. Nothings ever going to happen to you again.” He turned his attention to your bonds, careful not to injure you anymore. Gently, he picked you up in his arms and carried you out of the HYDRA base, the rest of the team following close behind. In between this, you fell unconscious from the amount of blood that you lost and the severity of your injuries.

 

You woke up in the medical bay of the SHIELD ship. You looked around frantically but soon calmed down when you noticed Deke sitting beside you, sound asleep and grasping your hand tight. With your other hand, you ran your fingers through his hair to wake him up. Groggily he sat up and smiled when he seen you staring back at him.

“Hey princess, how you feeling?” “A little sore, but I’ll live.” Deke’s smile faded and was replaced with a serious expression, very uncommon for him. “Yeah, Y/N, but it could have been much worse. You could have died! What were you thinking giving yourself up like that?”

Your head tilted downwards a little. “I wanted to protect my team. We were surrounded. The only way to keep them safe was surrendering myself. It was the only way.”

“No, it wasn’t the only way! You could have called for backup! You didn’t need to put yourself in harms way for the team! Your life is worth more than that!” Your head shot up, an angry look on your face. “Well, what was I supposed to do? Let them kill us all?! Let them kill you?! I wasn’t going to let that happen! I love you too much to lose you!” Deke pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his emotions into it.

Pulling away, he cradled your face in his hands and caressed your cheek with his thumb. “I love you to, Y/N, which is why I think we should leave the team. Let’s run away together, to a place far away. You will never have to put yourself in harms way ever again. I don’t think I could go through this again, watching the woman that I love sacrifice herself. Please, let’s get away from all this and start a normal life. Get married, have children, grow old together. That’s all I want.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes and let Deke’s words sink in. “Ok, Deke. Let’s go, right now.” Immediately, his face lit up with happiness. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head before running off somewhere unknown.

 

You and Deke were standing hand-in-hand in front of the whole team, bags at the bottom of your feet. All eyes were on the both of you, confused and inquisitive. “Alright guys, we have some big news.” You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. “Me and Deke have decided to leave the team. If the recent situation has taught us anything, it’s that life is too short. I nearly died on the last mission and I can’t risk my life anymore. I want to be able to live out the rest of my life with the man that I love. I hope you guys can understand this.”

The rest of the team looked at each other before looking back at you with large smiles on their faces. “of course we understand, Y/N. What you did for us was extrodianary and we cannot thank you enough for everything.”

They walked towards you both and engulfed you into a group hug. Tears were spilled and smiles were given before it was time for you and Deke to depart to your new life. To say you weren’t scared was an understatement, but you were also excited for what your new life was going to bring.

[moawrites]

Digital ARCs (Advance Reader Copies) for A Giant Among Men are available from now until February 5th! 

“And if you think to take a drink, From Mímisbrunnr, wait and think; For blood spilled here will cost you dear; The Middle Realm lies very near.”

When Prince Býleistr finds a human in the forest, he isn’t certain of exactly what he should do with her. It’s been many centuries since any mortals have stumbled across the Realm of Giants, and Hrothwyn of Miðgarðr isn’t at all what he expected. With his plans to keep Wynn as a pet thwarted by members of his father’s war-thirsty court, who believe that a human sacrifice might be just what they need to open a doorway to the mortal realm, Býleistr decides that the only way to keep the intriguing little captive alive is to return her to her realm.

But Miðgarðr is a much more complicated world than Býleistr has been led to believe.

A dark force sweeps through the mortal realm, leaving burned villages in its wake. Wynn is determined to see an end to the cruel warlord behind the devastation, and if Býleistr hopes to ever find a way back to his own world, he has no choice but to join her on her quest.

Obviously, I want you to buy my book! But, if you’re eager to read it before it’s out, and/or you don’t have the money to drop on it right now, an ARC is a great way to get a free, early copy of the story and potentially leave a review! 📚

You can find it on StoryOrigin and on Booksprout - both of which are places where you can find other free ARCs in a wide variety of genres, too! (And, you can follow me on Booksprout to get notifications when I upload new ARCs) 🌱

[zodiyack]

Under Stars

Requested by anon: Hi, my love! I have a request where Y/N take the bullets instead of John. Like, she put herself in front of him allowing him to kill those men. She sees herself alone, since Thomas is married, Arthur has Linda and everyone is kinda moving on with their lives. After discussions (which makes her fell alone and useless) , Y/N sacrifices herself for John and his happinness, saying before she dies something like "I want you all to be happy". Sorry if u already made something like that + (Addition to their request)

Pairing: Shelby Family & Gray Family + Shelby!reader (no romance)

Warnings: Death, angst, murder, mention of depression, sad soft stuffs

Note: TITLE IS INSPIRED BY AURORA’S “UNDER STARS” FOR THE MEANING OF THE SONG WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE  K BYE I’M SORRY! Also; extra bit at the end, I added it cause the title, I hope it’s okie! I cried while writing this oml

Taglist: @matth1w​ @redspaceace​

masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

“Got nothin’ better to do on Christmas morning?” John put down his gun when he realized it was only Michael.

“Tommy wants everybody at Charlie’s yard now, come on.” Michael gave a slight tilt of his head. Y/n creeped out next to John, hair messed up from her nieces’ and nephews’ game of climbing on their aunt human-sized-jungle gym the previous night. They sure were excited hear that their aunt would be staying for Christmas.

He turned, pushing his dog into the house and trying to close the door so they could get going. “Get in. Get in!” They walked around, “What’s going to happen? It’s fucking Christmas.”

“Look John, we don’t have time for this.”

“Alright, just come into the house.” Michael interrupted him, “Just come to the meeting-” but he continued like Michael never even spoke. “Have some food”

Esme rushed to the door, pushing John aside when he opened it, despite his “ey”s, and stomped over to Michael. She got extremely close to his face and angerly spat out her take on the situation, “Tell Tommy Shelby we can look after ourselves!”

However, Michael remained calm. “Tommy says they could come for us today, Esme-”

“’Tommy says’,” she turned to John and Y/n, repeating her mimic, “‘Tommy says’,” turning back to Michael, she released the same anger, “Are you his fucking parrot?!”

“Look, it’s the mafia! Alright? This is the New York mafia we’re talking about!”

“And we’re the Peaky fucking Blinders.” John stated, gun slung over his shoulder.

“No, we’re not, John! We’re not the Peaky fucking Blinders unless we’re together!”

Esme stepped closer to Michael, “You were together in the gallows, with one man missing.”

Michael took a second, then ignored Esme and returned to his calmed state. “John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids.” John’s gaze began to move, as did his body when Esme turned to see his reaction, “Come to the meeting, and if you want to leave, then fine.”

“No. It’s Christmas day. We have a family now, we’re staying at home!” Esme shouted. Michael looked to Y/n with a pleading raise of his eyebrows. She closed her eyes and shook her head with shrug, there wasn’t much she could do to change Esme’s mind.

A man pushed over a hay bale, vaulting over it and readying his gun.

John, already facing the direction of the cart, did the same, cocking his gun and yelling to Esme and his sister. “In the fucking house!”

Michael lifted his head, noticing the man and cart. “Esme-” More men jumped out. Michael recognized the cart, which he had passed on the way here. The honking of his car’s horn as he rushed, a form of pleading for it to move out of his way.

John fired at them, hitting a hay bale but missing the men. “John!” Michael pushed Esme inside and tossed a gun to his cousin, who ran beside her brother in an attempt to help. She quickly realized her brother’s mistake in the choice of his gun. He was quick to shoot again, but the men were quick to shoot back, weapons faster than his shot gun.

Esme halted behind the door, glancing to the siblings with fear. No. It couldn’t be. It pained her just much as it would had it been the other Shelby. It wasn’t John, though he had been in the front, it was his sister. She pushed herself in front of her brother. Unknown to anyone but her, her mind flashed with thoughts of her family, of John’s family. Of Charlie and her other nieces and nephews. Of her mother.

The bullets hit her in repetition, over and over and over again. The bullets from the mafia continued hitting her stomach and chest leaving bloodied holes in her clothing and body. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion.

Y/n felt nothing but content. Peaceful. Free.

The violent scene resumed around her soon-to-be-lifeless body as she dropped to the ground. Michael was hit with a bullet, not enough to kill him, but grazing him just right, just enough, to make him drop to the ground as well, dragging John down with him.

A peaceful moment. Though she now lie hanging onto life as tight as she could, maybe just to say goodbye, she felt peaceful. A smile found it’s way onto her face, the shock and pain got to her, a dreamy look filled her eyes.

She could hear Esme’s painful screams, the agony and sorrow dripping from her throat. She felt John lift her head onto his lap and his tears drip onto her face. His face was red, nose snotty and eyes puffy as he cried for her to hold on. As he cried and told her that they’d find someone who could help. As he told her that they would kill the mafia for what they did to his sister.

“J-John.” She coughed up blood. Her head twitched slightly as John’s hand caressed her cheek, Esme and Michael now kneeling over her body as well. Y/n’s eyes scanned Michael’s wounds, to which he gave her a look. A look that read regret and possibly a message of “now’s not the time”.

“Take c-care of Esme and y-your kids. Tell them I-I love them. Tell all of our fam-family I l-love them.” She smiled up at his teary face, blood coating her teeth and spilling out of her mouth a bit. “I want you all to be happy.” 

With that last sentence, her eyes stopped acknowledging their presences and flicked up to the sky. A final breath left her mouth and her head lolled limp on his lap. His thumb, still stroking her cheek, felt the warmth leave her body, slowly being replaced with a dreadfully-familiar cold. The cold of the dead. 

His sister now lied dead in his lap, a smile still upon her face, no hint of regret anywhere. Esme clung to him once she processed Y/n’s passing. The way she shoved herself in front of her brother so carelessly, like she wanted it to happen. She thought of the way Y/n had been hesitant to join them or Tommy and Grace, or really any of the couples of the family, when they went places.

Before Y/n passed, when she was looking to the heavens, her mind showed her a sight. She stood before her mother, who was smiling and well in the afterlife. Y/n couldn’t think of anything else, but joining her. Her mother moved to the side, showing her more of what she could join in on. 

She knew all three of the women in front of her. Grace talked with John’s dead wife, both of them smiling at Y/n and eagerly beckoning her over to them. Her mum slowly moved her hand, welcoming Y/n to the paradise. 

So, she grabbed onto her mother’s extended hand and greeted her new company.

. . .

“Go fuck those bastards responsible!” Polly sobbed a yell at Tommy, returning to her place over Y/n’s body, brushing her hair from her face. Her lifeless body was brought to the family and chaos ensued.

Tommy grabbed handfuls of his hair and tugged while yelling until his face turned red upon the discovery of his dead sibling. Arthur threw items, flipped tables, and let the cries of agony escape him just as Tommy had. The rest of the family had pretty similar reactions, aside from Ada.

Her eyes were greeted with the sight of her sister, bloodied up and dead. Her hand darted to her mouth, tears spilled from her eyes, her legs moved to Y/n’s side before she could think of the action. Whimpers and small croaks of screams left her mouth muffled.

They knew one of them were likely to die at some point. They wouldn’t have handled that well either. But. Their sister? The kind and cheery one of the bunch. The one who hid her tough shield behind her forgiving smile? No one thought she’d be the first to leave the living.

Her depression was known, and her family helped her care for it, helped make her happy and let her know how much they loved her. They tried their hardest, and her thoughts of suicide were gifted to her in a disguise of murder. But why?

Why her?

“It should’ve been me...”

“Don’t say that John...she wanted you alive...”

“It should’ve though...” Pangs of guilt were sent straight to not just his heart, but his brothers’. His sister’s. His aunt’s. His wife’s. His cousin’s. They felt guilty for what had been done, the murder of Y/n was no one of the Peaky Blinder’s fault, but everyone still blamed themselves.

. . .

John and Esme cuddled into each other by the fire, no words being spoken, their hearts heavy and eyes watery. One of John’s children walked up to them, rubbing their puffy red eyes that matched their parents’ and tilting their head at their father.

“Are you crying cause you miss Auntie? Don’t worry, she’s just sleeping. Under those stars outside my window. She’s.. she has only fallen asleep.”

“What?”

“Auntie. She’s only fallen asleep. And when God says it’s time, he’ll wake her up.” The little boy climbed onto the sofa. “I hope she’s dreaming of me. What about you, mummy?”

Esme’s mouth had dropped in shock from the sentence. “I-I- uh yeah... I do too, my love. I think she’s dreaming of you, for sure. I- I think she’s dreaming of you, me, daddy, all of us.”

“I hope she has a good sleep. Speaking of sleep, can you tuck me in? Aunt Y/n did it a special way...I miss it when she tucked me in.” John and Esme’s hearts ached at the sight of their child, eyebrows scrunched in thought before he jumped up and his face filled with joy. “Maybe when she wakes up she can tuck me in again!”

“Of course sweetie...” Esme’s voice cracked with sadness laced through her words and smile. “Time for bed, dearest... Wanna show mummy and daddy how Auntie used to tuck you in?”

The boy beamed with happiness, nodding eagerly at the idea. “Mhm!” He grabbed his parent’s arms and pulled them into his room, telling them instructions. After he finished, they sat on his bed with him, their tears breaking free at his final sentences before he kissed them goodnight;

“Goodnight Y/n! I hope you wake up soon, we miss you! Sleep well and dream good dreams of me under those stars of yours!”

[patchies]

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: depictions of gore

Word Count: 1.8+k

Author’s Note: This story is heavily inspired by a dream I had around two months ago and it pushed me into writing it. I haven’t ever thought that I would be writing and publishing a story. Let alone in English since it’s very far from my mother language, but I have to admit I like it way more. As I am pretty proud of it, I’ve decided why not just try? This story is not going to be updated very frequently as I hardly find time and motivation, but I have the whole story mostly planned out and I have plenty of ideas for it! There are 7 chapters written altogether as of now and I will try to update at least once a month. I’ve started writing longer chapters from the 6th and those will take longer to finish, but I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 1: The Awakening

Your eyes are met with complete darkness, unable to perceive your surroundings. The creepy, dusty and smoggy atmosphere isn't making you any less uneasy and confused either. Quite the contrary, actually. An unbelievable sickening feeling takes over your stomach and a great migraine is ever so present. Steering your thoughts to completely different places than they're supposed to. You feel the rapid thumping of your heart and panic floats in your head.

It takes you a few minutes until your dilated pupils get used to the blackness, but when they do, you're able to see the outlines of some demolished furniture. Upon fixating more on your surroundings, you distinctly spot the torn plain green wallpaper and empty broken picture frames hanged up on the wall. The tattered blinds covering the cracked windows tell you it's night and you seem to have gained consciousness in the middle of it.

Though, when you attempt to rethink through your day and previous whereabouts, you come up blank. Something like a heavy fog restrains your memories. A metaphorical lock put around it to secure them away from your conscious mind. As much as you try to concentrate on the past, you're left with nothing. It doesn't only leave you grasping for the forgotten past, but it makes you feel stranded and gasping of any, and very needed, recollection.

A sharp inhale of air makes your head rapidly turn in the direction of the sound and squint your eyes. You can hardly see the body of the person. The dark corner makes it difficult to focus, yet the figure still seems to take notice of you instantly, “Who are you…?”

Speaks up a very groggy voice and you can deduce their voice is coming from the shadows. Utterly hidden by the dark abyss. It sounds masculine, so you leave it at that, not taking too much interest in finding out any more information about the strange human. He seems to be in the same situation as you, but you still decide to be cautious around him. He's only a stranger to you, so you aren't going to blindly trust him. After all, stranger-danger is a rule, right?

You choose to stay guarded for now.

“Why does it matter to you?” You harshly reply. There really isn't anything to go off when it comes to his personality and intentions. As much as you'd like to be happy about seeing another human being, you don't know in what situation you are stuck in and you aren't the stupidest, neither the smartest, in the world. You'd rather stay cautious than die, “I'm surprised you have the audacity to speak to me even though you're obscuring your identity from me.”

“Well, if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?” The stranger suggests, but you're inclined to not let him get through you.

“It doesn't matter to me. All I want is to get out and find whoever brought me here,” you simply say, “or search for my way home. That, doesn't have to involve you, nor your help.”

You turn your back to his voice, brushing him off with your words. Fixating your sight on the few boxes scattered throughout the room. You're sure he can feel your annoyance, but it's valid. He's making non-significant propositions, which is honestly irritable.

“I could help you. We could have each other's back.”

“What have I just said?” You inquire with an annoyed tint, “You have nothing of value to offer me, and you can't even step out of the shadows.”

With that said you slowly start to stand up from your position and look around for a possible exit. The floorboards creak under your weight as you step from foot to foot. The first thing that comes to your mind is to head straight for the windows for some unknown reason. Upon taking several steps to the blinds, you hear the stranger's footsteps echo. Your feet leisurely continue, but you're tempted to check behind you, therefore you do. Just in case he proves to have any malignant tendency.

There's still no silhouette of the other human, hence why you can't confirm what kind of a movement he's executed. With that done, you turn your head back and concentrate on the task at hand.

Once you get close enough to pull the blinds open, a loud screeching noise travelling throughout the whole street alerts both you and your companion. Blood pumps through your body at faster pace and you begin to be sceptical at heart upon hearing the scream of an unidentified creature.

“What the hell was that sound?” You can hear a slight waver in his voice. Presumably from not being able to decipher the inhuman noise from outside.

It didn't seem to scare you as much as it scared him. Although you did flinch back from the window, your guard has stayed high nonetheless the fright you experienced.

You shrug, but after realising he cannot possibly see you very well, you give him a response, “How am I supposed to know? Do you think I'm a witch?”

“Uh– yes and no?” After those words leave his mouth, your head turns to what you assume is his direction and give him a nasty glare. Offended thoughts swim in your head along with the throbbing pain of a headache.

A relatively loud scoff escapes your mouth and you fixate him with a harsh look.

You're sure he's going to die by either your hands, or he'll serve as sacrifice to the creature.

“You've chosen your destiny now, man.”

The scoff that leaves his mouth this time tells you that he's against the idea or he just plainly thinks you're joking. Either way, he's sold his soul by saying those words.

Cutting the conversation off, you finally get to glance outside the window, and you yell out a curse, which is enough to let the thing outside know of your existence. In the matter of seconds, it flies to your window and starts banging against it. It's long arms slam the panels with surprisingly little force. You fall back and try to scramble to your feet as quickly as you can. Can't go around risking your life even upon seeing the strength of the shadowy figure.

The man, who has chosen to stay anonymous up until now, decides against his better judgement to flee on his own to help you up. It doesn't show much strength, but the window already adores quite a few cracks, so you don't think it'll hold up for long.

“Just hurry up!”

As soon as you're stabilised and on both of your legs, you book it to the door. At first, the handle doesn't let you open them, but after a few sharp tugs it gives out and you fall to the floor again. You let out a curse once more, supporting your body on your forearms and stand up. The stranger only snickers behind you.

You stay silent and get your thoughts and clumsiness together.

“Here! We could hide in one of the other rooms!” He hurriedly tries to tug you to the direction he's talking about, but you don't budge. You can't take any risks when you don't know the house's layout and the person in front of you.

“I don't think it's a good idea,” you ponder over your thoughts, but after you hear glass being shattered, you run to another room and to the closest closet you can find. Completely disregarding the terrified look the man threw your way. You duck to the ground as hastily as you can and cover your mouth just in case. Soon wooden boards start creaking in the hallway and, even though you wished the man would be a sacrifice, you hope he's found a safe place and survives this monstrosity.

A rather loud groan is heard somewhat close to you and you peek through the small gap in the closet doors to see a rather disturbing view. One that you wish you haven't.

The creature has found a dead rat (rather beheaded the poor creature beforehand?) and is holding it to its bloody mouth now. Multiple sharp teeth sink over and over into the freshly killed animal, happily munching on the treat. It's turned sideways to you, so you can very clearly see all the contents of the rodent's body as it eats it. It's guts and blood spilling everywhere on the floor and on the demon itself.

You shudder, avert your eyes, and just look at your curled-up knees. ‘What in the name of hell have I just witnessed?’

It takes less than ten minutes to finish its fiesta and you can see the unidentified creature turn to smoke from your peripheral vision. It stays in that form and floats out of the room and you guess it leaves out the window it broke.

Silent tears start to fall down your eyes and you honestly aren't surprised. The whole encounter was traumatic to say the least. To you, it was as if you were the protagonist in a horror movie, being hunted down by some unknown force. Except this is real life that we're talking about. Your life is currently put at stake and you don't want to die so early. Be at the hands of the creature or some other mythical thing.

This won't be the worst thing to happen to you, Reader.  Or will it, now?

Was that demon chasing somebody before I yelled out?

It had seemed to be occupied by something else before you got startled by its presence on the little roof below the window. You can still remember the soulless holes for eyes staring in your direction vividly.

Was it me luring it to us? Could there be more people?

You sit there, contemplating the event that has just happened, for what seems to be forever. Blank stare put onto your hands as you cry and your body succumbs to total numbness. That is until the closet door creak open, forcing you to look up.

There stands a man of average height with messy brown hair. You notice just now how he exactly looks upon not having that much time to do so an hour (was it?) ago.

His eyes convey an emotion close to yours, which is utter fear and confusion. He silently offers you his hand and you gladly, albeit shakily, take it. He pulls you out the door and towards another room with a dusty and an almost broken bed, pulls you into his lap and tucks your head into his neck. Letting you quietly cry while he gently runs his hand across your back. You don't even care a stranger has you in his lap. He lets you cry until you have no more tears running down your cheeks.

Your guarded feelings towards the man begin to crack amidst the comfort you crave right now.

When you're done, you both can't get yourselves to break the silence. You’ve distanced yourself from him, but you both are too afraid to even utter a word and accidentally lure the creature back in. Although, he decides to break it with a small whisper and with an attempt of a comforting smile.

“Do you mind sharing your name with me now?”

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15 (Kiro’s Chapter) Final Part [Invincible Position] & [Silver Promise] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED!!!

This is the final translation of Kiro’s chapter 15 in MLQC season 2. Since there wasn’t much left, I decided to combine the last two parts of the chapter into one. Thanks so much for waiting and hoped that you enjoyed reading~

For the previous translations of chapter 15: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

I highly recommend reading Kiro’s Rumors and Secrets: A Boulder of Hope (translated by the wonderful @link4eva​ ) that’s included with the chapter karma.

[Invincible Position]

As soon as Helios said the words, the boy’s pupils lost their focus, and his body was shaking uncontrollably, as if he had to squeeze all his life to fulfill this absolute command.

The silver-white arc of light from his feet instantly shoots outward like ripples.

The dazzling light gathered in the palm of his hand and then exploded into countless arches, jumping around.

Joker’s calm expression finally broke. He struggled to get up and raised his hand with difficulty.

But nothing can be changed.

The moment the silver-white arc appeared, we had won.

In the next moment, some chaotic voices loomed outside the department store.

The boy’s body shook violently. Soon, the light dissipated and he fell to his knees helplessly, completely drained from the immense amount of energy used.

Probably this huge unstable force caused a certain amount of chaos in the city at the moment of transfer, but at least—

All of them left the misty Loveland City safely.

Helios smirked and was about to say something but suddenly a pool of blood spilled from his mouth.

MC: Helios!

I ran to him in a hurry, just barely managed to catch his quivering body. The strong smell of blood instantly filled my nose.

I carefully avoided the wound on his body and helped him up, took his gun and let him lean on my back, blocking Joker from him.

The knife in Helios’ hand was chilling in the light, and the blood-stained silver pistol was also extremely heavy.

But I still held it up straight and pointed it at Joker.

Helios: What are you doing?

MC: I will protect you.

Even though I know we have won, Joker is still here.

As long as he is still here, we must not let our guard down.

MC: I will protect you.

I repeated it again, without calling his name.

Joker: It turns out you did it on purpose.

Helios: Are you just realizing that now?

With a trembling hand, he took out the black metal box from his pocket and pressed one of the buttons.

The screen showed the city map of Loveland City. He glanced down, raised his head and smiled softly.

I followed his gaze and Joker frowned.

He glanced at the young boy who was sitting on the ground and his cold eyes revealed his anger at this moment.

Joker: Your goal was him from the beginning. You were using me.

Joker: A clever hunter must know when it is the best time to be injured, and then use the wound to attract its prey.

Joker: Unexpectedly, you are a very good actor.

Helios: Don’t be discouraged, you flatter me. This game is not bad, right?

MC: ….?

Could it be that Helios was injured deliberately?

I stared blankly at him trying to understand the meaning of their conversation.

He pretended to let me hypnotize the boy, then hid his Evol and purposely exposed his flaws.

He wanted to use this method to divert Joker’s attention and at the same time, consuming Joker’s physical strength.

When the time was right, he took advantage of Joker’s vulnerability and used Evol to command the boy to move the whole city away and save everyone.

He thought of everyone’s circumstances, figured out how to save others, and put me in the safest position in advance.

But he never considered himself. In order to ensure everyone’s safety, he let himself get injured.

My whole body was shaking, my back facing him, holding the pistol, my eyes were beginning to sting.

He slowly straightened his body, stretched out his sweat- and blood-soaked arm, wrapped it around my waist, and moved in front of me.

Sensing my gaze, he turned his head to look at me, his eyes had a certain light in them.

As if not caring about the scars on his body and trying to comfort me so that I don’t have to worry about him.

The boy who fell on the ground was panting heavily and then finally reacted, staring cruelly at Helios.

Teenage Boy: Da--damn it. You cheated!

Helios: You are so stupid.

Helios slowly stood up with my help.

The simple action seemed to consume all his energy but he didn’t stop, struggling to straighten his back, and looked down at Joker.

Helios: The current Loveland is just an empty city.

Helios: No one’s life will be threatened, no more conflicts will occur, and no one will die because of the hunter game.

Helios: You have lost the bargaining chip with me.

Helios: You lose.

Joker raised up his head, no emotions could be seen in his dark gray eyes.

Joker: As long as the fog still remains, the game can continue.

Joker: You can send people out but I can send people back again.

Joker: No one can stop it until I have the answer.

His nonchalant attitude made me a little angry. The tragedy I saw in the hunter game was so vivid that I couldn’t help but speak.

MC: ….What do you take human life for!

MC: No one is your experiment and tool to achieve your goals!

MC: No matter what you want to accomplish with the hunter game, it doesn’t matter if you are looking for CORE or looking for the lighthouse…

MC: You can’t turn a blind eye to life. No one can do that.

Joker’s expression moved slightly. He looked at me casually for a while, then spoke after a long time.

Joker: You know a lot.

Joker: But everything needs to be proven.

Joker: The formula on the paper, the theorems, and…

Joker: The ambiguity of the world.

Joker: The hunter game is just a method of experimentation.

Joker: All sacrifices and trials are necessary on the road to truth.

Joker: The world needs answers and if you can’t grasp it, you will never move forward.

Joker’s voice was faint but his eyes remained unwavering.

I was taken aback for a moment and I didn’t understand what Joker was referring to.

What does he want to prove?

He seems to have more secrets than I thought, like a complex mathematical equation. No matter how ridiculous his methods are, he will not stop.

Helios: No matter what you want to argue, you should not exchange innocent lives for answers.

Joker: Our position is different, there is no need to discuss it.

Helios: Don’t be too impatient.

Helios: I haven’t taken out my bargaining chip yet so how do you know that there is no need for discussion.

Helios looked at him calmly, speaking slowly, word for word.

Helios: You disperse the fog and I will take you to the lighthouse.

My heart jumped and I looked at Helios in surprise. He stared at Joker but secretly squeezed my hand, silently telling me not to speak.

Joker’s gaze fell on Helios, as if interested in his words.

Helios seemed to chuckle slightly and continued.

Helios: Evol energy fluctuations are not the only way to open the lighthouse.

Helios: You have worked hard but you have gone too far.

Joker: Why should I believe your words?

Helios: The thorny slab of the “8” sign, the transparent steps, the residual intelligence…

Helios: If you have entered the lighthouse, you should know what I am talking about.

Teenage Boy: Surely, you are deceiving us. There is no residual intelligence in the lighthouse!

Although the boy was powerless on the ground, he still retorted righteously, as if he was quite sure that Helios was lying.

I was taken aback for a moment, looked at Joker and found that he also showed a somewhat puzzled expression.

Helios didn’t speak and looked carefully at Joker for a while, suddenly the corners of his lips curled up, seeming to understand something.

Helios: It seems that you have never opened the lighthouse.

Teenage Boy: Nonsense, we have been inside many lighthouses!

Helios grinned and raised his eyebrows casually.

Helios: Are you sure?

Joker: Did you see the residual intelligence?

Joker spoke suddenly. There was no expression on his face, but I inexplicably heard a trace of apprehension in his voice.

Helios’ gaze stayed on Joker’s face for a moment, and then he answered directly.

Helios: It depends on your attitude to find out if I’m telling the truth.

There was finally a crack in Joker’s expression and he took a deep breath as if hiding his emotions.

Helios: Let’s talk about the conditions again.

Helios: I will take you to the lighthouse and you tell her how to disperse the fog.

Helios: Also, let her leave safely.

[Silver Promise]

Helios’s words pierced my heart like a sharp knife, and I grasped his hand tightly and looked at him anxiously. 

MC: I’m not leaving. I’m going with you.

Helios has suffered such a serious injury and there are still many things we don’t know about Joker….

In any case, I can’t let him go to the lighthouse with Joker alone.

Helios: This has nothing to do with you.

His tone was firm. I opened my mouth and wanted to say something, but Joker interrupted.

Joker: I can agree to your terms.

Joker: I’ll let her go and resolve the fog.

Joker: However, I need to prove first that you can indeed open the lighthouse.

Helios: You have no room for negotiation with me.

Helios interrupted Joker and his eyes were cold.

Helios: Tell her how to get rid of the fog, and then ask your lackey to send her away.

Helios: If you still want to go to the lighthouse, do as I say.

MC: W-wait….

Helios: Listen carefully.

He leaned close to my ear, and his tone was softer than ever before.

Helios: You need to disperse the fog in Loveland City.

Helios: So that the game can truly end.

He looked into my eyes with a commanding tone but comfort and encouragement lurked in those depths.

Helios: You want to save everyone and find that healthy Loveland City again.

His tone eased slightly, but his eyes were firm and left no room for argument.

I know he is right, and if I linger any longer, I will only drag him down and I can’t let him lose everything that he has done.

MC: But your body….

Helios: The wound looks scarier than it actually is. It’s not fatal.

I bit my lip, tried to restrain the urge to cry, and nodded gently.

MC: Okay, I promise you.

MC: But you have to promise me one thing.

MC: After the matter is over, you must contact me as soon as possible to let me know you are safe.

He bends the corners of his lips, the expression on his face softens considerably and I seem to see Kiro.

Helios: I promise you.

He raised his hand, lightly wiped the corner of my eye, and then let go of my hand.

The moment my palm lost the warm touch, my heart was empty as if I was torn open.

I turned around, not daring to take another look at Helios, fearing that I would regret making this decision if I delay it for another second.

The moment I walked to the boy’s side, I still couldn’t help but turn my head and look at Helios standing in the shadows.

Helios: “Wait for me to come see you.”

In the faint silver-white arc of light, I saw him open his mouth slightly.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and then, darkness swept through my vision.

The boy teleported me to the weather station in Loveland City and reluctantly told me that the special substance to eliminate the fog was hidden under the weather station.

After the teenage boy disappeared, I did not give myself too much time to process my emotions and started to work on dispelling the fog.

I contacted Zehn and asked him to send someone outside the city to find the weather station staff in the shortest time and bring them back to the city safely as soon as possible.

After that, I arranged for the BS researcher to come quickly and sample the special substance and swiftly conduct analysis and research on it.

While I was waiting, I started to edit the news about “Loveland City has successfully dispelled the toxic fog” on my mobile phone and prepared to release it after the fog was successfully eliminated.

Soon, the staff of the weather station returned and according to the analysis, many large metal cans without labels were found in the underground warehouse.

The staff frowned, seeming to know exactly what it was, and quickly picked up a jar and ran to a certain research room.

I took a step back slightly, turned and walked into the lounge.

At this point, this is something that can only be left to the professionals to do.

I looked at the vast white fog outside the window, but my heart was extremely peaceful.

“Boom—”

Mist containers scattered into the distance and exploded violently.

Upon release of those containers, the treacherous fog slowly disappeared and the night sky of Loveland City finally revealed a small array of stars.

The real midnight of Loveland City has come at last.

After confirming that the fog has dissipated, I posted the news bulletin to various social platforms, hoping that this information can spread faster.

When I was finished, it was already dawn, and a bit of cold morning light was reflected in the sky, and I stood in front of the window, my mind full of thoughts.

I looked up at the untouched starry sky and a rush of stinging pain surged in my heart.

MC: Kiro…

The superhero fulfilled his promise.

He returned the former Loveland City to everyone.

But no one knows how much he paid for this and no one knows whether he is safe.

I clenched my hands tightly, praying in my heart over and over again that he would come back safely as soon as possible.

“Buzz—”

There was a vibration from my phone and I quickly picked it up. After seeing the name on the screen, my prayers were finally answered.

Helios didn’t say much on the phone. He only asked me to meet at the bridge’s edge.

I hurriedly left the weather station, only to find that the sky was already bright and some people had gradually started returning to Loveland City.

The police sirens kept blaring along the way, “caution” tape was set up in every corner of the city, and several helicopters hovered in the air.

The Loveland City government and related agencies are actively doing recovery and post-work.

Maybe Loveland will return to the old days soon.

Thinking about this, I quickened my steps.

Upon arriving at the river, I saw Helios sitting on the railing of the bridge from a distance.

He sat there alone, his silver hair almost blending in with the blue sky of dawn.

My footsteps stopped, and seeing him like this, I felt a pang of emptiness in my heart.

Helios seemed to hear my footsteps and turned to look at me.

He has changed his clothes and all his injuries from yesterday were covered under the neat clothes, as if nothing had ever happened.

His expression is still so cold, but after everything that happened yesterday, I know that there is already something different.

I steadied my breathing and met his gaze.

Helios: I came to honor the promise.

Helios: You did very well.

MC: How are you?

Helios: Aren’t I standing in front of you unharmed?

I was slightly taken aback.

MC: What about Joker? Has the lighthouse issue been resolved?

He didn’t answer, just took the familiar metal box from his pocket and tossed it to me.

I caught the metal box in the air and saw an ocean sector displayed on the screen with many active coordinates on it.

Helios: These are the coordinates of all the players who were teleported away by “ghosts” in the game.

Helios: According to the map, they were trapped on a small island in the sea.

Helios:  I will start from Joker’s side to investigate the whereabouts of this group of people.

Helios: I have erased your information from the system. Joker will not find you.

Helios: There are also the coordinates of all the players in this device. I need you to be my eyes in Loveland City and always pay attention to their movements.

MC: What about you? Where are you going?

MC: You haven’t answered me yet. Has Joker’s problem been settled?

I subconsciously blurted out the question in my mind. I am pretty sure he is hiding something from me.

What he said seemed like he was going to some dangerous place.

Following his profile, I once again saw the strange-shaped earphone in his right ear, and my breathing became still.

Helios looked at me steadily, his eyes shining, but he was silent.

He seemed to have noticed my stare. After lowering his gaze slightly, he reached out and took off the earphone.

His eyes closed slowly, and when they opened later, the azure blue pupils were coated with a layer of piercing golden light.

At that moment, I seemed to hear the sound of a string that was always tight being torn off.

I closed my eyes and tried to suppress the constant bitterness.

MC: Are you going to use your power again?

MC: You want me to listen your orders and leave, right?

MC: Still want me to forget? Forget all this, forget about your ears.

I stubbornly opened my eyes, struggling with the silent person in front of me.

This is an unspoken conversation. Many things have changed since he commanded the boy.

Helios: You should have forgotten.

Helios: But I don’t want you to.

I stared at him blankly and was suddenly locked in place by his words.

The morning wind pulled the hem of his clothes and the dawn behind him broke through the thick clouds at some point and spread over his shoulders.

His whole body was bathed in a layer of warm gold.

Helios: I want you to always remember everything about me.

Helios: No matter…..what kind of me.

I blinked hard, the whole world became a little brighter, but only those golden pupils made my eyes become hot and damp.

MC: What I remember is always about you.

It’s you: the light is you, the darkness is also you.

From beginning to end, all I envisioned was him.

Hearing what I said, a faint smile appeared on Helios’ face.

Helios: I need you to stay.

Helios: Because only in this way can I feel at ease.

Helios: But just saying that, it is still you who is solely delivering trust.

I watched him approach me step by step in doubt, lowering his head, those golden eyes magnified in front of me, allowing me to see a complete self.

Helios: So you can command me.

MC: Me command you?

Helios: This is your privilege.

He bent down, raised his hand and gently brushed my hair behind my ears, his expression calm and relaxed, waiting for me quietly.

MC: I command you—

I looked into his eyes, knowing that it had no real effect, but I knew it was his own way to seal a promise that only belongs to us.

MC: You must come back safely.

The corners of his lips curled upward and the brilliant light fell in his eyes.

Helios: Wait for me to return.

His voice fell and he walked to the far side of the bridge without looking back. His back gradually disappeared at the end of the bridge.

I close my palms and tell myself in my heart—

He will come back safely.

This is our agreement.

In the ancient and mysterious giant building, the light from the walls faintly appeared.

The silhouette formed by the lines stood in front of Helios and Joker but was silent.

Joker circled the empty hall and walked back to where he was.

Joker: You lied.

Helios stood calmly in the shadows, as if he had anticipated the current situation.

Helios: Didn’t you lie to me too?

He looked at Joker and his expression gradually became colder.

In a remote corner of Loveland City, a faint mist floats quietly in a hidden dark place.

-End of Chapter 15-

[mushroom-cartel--writing]

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

.

.

.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

.

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷��̖?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

|

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

|

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

[phoenixyfriend]

The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss​, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil...  She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.